III. SET BY MR. DE FESCH. STREPHONETTA, why d'ye fly me, Since your charms I so much prize. But I plainly see the reason, IV. SET BY MR. SMITH. COME, weep no more, for 'tis in vain ; You sigh and weep: the gods neglect That precious dew your eyes let fall; Our joy and grief with like respect They mind; and that is, not at all. We pray, in hopes they will be kind, They hear; and the return we find Then clear your brow, and look more gay, Do not yourself to grief resign; Who knows but that those powers may The pair, they now have parted, join? But, since they have thus cruel been, And could such constant lovers sever; I dare not trust, lest now they're in, They should divide us two for ever. 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; To make two wandering lovers meet; How great then would our pleasure be, But say, should Heaven bring no relief, V. SET BY MR. DE FESCH. LET perjur'd fair Amynta know, But, oh! she scorns to hear, or see, The wretch that lies so low as me; Her sudden greatness turns her brain, And Strephon hopes, alas! in vain: For ne'er 'twas found (though often tried) That pity ever dwelt with pride. VI. SET BY MR. SMITH. PHILLIS, since we have both been kind, Tell me what pleasure you can find, 'Tis true, you may with art and pain Then let us free each other's soul, And laugh at the dull constant fool, Who would love's liberty control, And teach us how to whine by rule. Let us no impositions set, Or clogs upon each other's heart; We both have spent our stock of love, VII. SET BY MR. DE FESCH. PHILLIS, this pious talk give o'er, In vain you fancy to deceive, But this is all a sham Since any one may plainly see, And with another damn. VIII. SET BY MR. SMITH. STILL, Dorinda, I adore; Staying, I my vows shall fail; Virtue yields, as love grows stronger; Fierce desires will sure prevail; You are fair; and I am frail, And dare trust myself no longer. You my love, too nicely coy, Lest 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. To my vows I have been true, And in silence hid my anguish, But I cannot promise too What my love may make me do, While with her for whom I languish. For in thee strange magic lies, And my heart is too, too tender; |