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Then, Flavia, come, and let us grieve,

Remembering though upon what score; This our last parting look believe,

Believe we must embrace no more.

Yet, should our sun shine out at last ;

And Fortune, without more deceit, Throw but one reconciling caft,

To make two wandering lovers meet;

How great then would our pleasure be,

To find Heaven kinder than believ'd; And we, who had no hopes to see

Each other, to be thus deceiv'd!

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But fay, should Heaven bring no relief,

Suppose our sun should never rise : Why then what 's due to such a grief,

We've paid already with our eyes.

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LET perjur'd fair Amynta know,
What for her fake I undergo;
Tell her, for her how I sustain
A lingering fever's wasting pain;
Tell her, the torments I endure,
Which only, only the can cure.

But, oh! The scorns to hear, or see,
The wretch that lies so low as me;
Her sudden greatness turns her brain,
And Strephen hopes, alas ! in vain :
For ne'er 'twas found (though often try'd)
That pity ever dwelt with pride.

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PHILLIS, fince we have both been kind,

And of each other had our fill; Tell me what pleasure you can find,

In forcing nature 'gainst her will.

"Tis true, you may with art and pain

Keep-in some glowings of defire ; But still those glowings which remain

Are only ashes of the fire.

Then let us free each other's soul,

And laugh at the dull constant fool, Who would Love's liberty controul,

And teach us how to whine by rule.

Let us no impofitions fet,

Or clogs upon each other's heart; ; But, as for pleasure first we met,

So now for pleasure let us part.

We

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We both have spent our stock of love,

So consequently should be free ; Thyrfis expects you in yon' grove;

And pretty Chloris stays for me.

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Phillis, this pious talk give o'er,
And modestly pretend no more ;

It is too plain an art :
Surely you take me for a fool,
And would by this prove me so dull,

As not to know your heart,

In vain you fancy to deceive,
For truly I can ne'er believe

But this is all a sham ;
Since any one 'may plainly see,
You 'd only save yourself with me,

And with another damn.

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STILL

TILL, Dorinda, I adore ; Think I mean not to deceive you :

For I lov'd you much before,

And, alas! now love you more, Though I force myself to leave you,

Staying, I my vows shall fail ; Virtue yields, as love grows stronger ;

Fierce defires will sure prevail ;

You are fair ; and I am frail, And dare trust myself no longer,

You, my love, too nicely coy,
Left I should have gain’d the treasure,

Made my vows and oaths destroy

The pleasing hopes I did enjoy
Of all my future peace and pleasure,

То

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