 | The Rover ; Or, Happiness at Last |  |
2
SCENE II.
To him, Sylvia.RECITATIVE.
Sylvia.
Deceitful Colin!
Colin.
So!
Sylvia.
Ungrateful Swain!
Colin.
What is it makes thee, Charmer, thus complain?
Sylvia.
What means this cold Neglect? did you not swear
This Morn shou'd view us join'd a happy Pair?
Colin.
Ha! ha! my Sylvia, canst thou be so weak
To build a Hope on aught a Youth shall speak?
When ev'ry Sense was fondly lost in Joy,
When all the Lover did my Soul employ,
Ten thousand tender Things perhaps I spoke,
As Pleasure form'd 'em, from my Tongue they broke;
That then I made this Promise, I'll allow,—
But must the Man perform the Lover's Vow?
AIR.
When first I sought your Heart to move,
And urg'd my warm Address,
You swore, by all the Pow'rs above,
I ne'er shou'd gain Success:
But long that Vow was not your Care,
You did to Love incline:
Then is it mighty strange, my Fair,
That I shou'd, too, break mine?
And urg'd my warm Address,
You swore, by all the Pow'rs above,
I ne'er shou'd gain Success:
But long that Vow was not your Care,
You did to Love incline:
Then is it mighty strange, my Fair,
That I shou'd, too, break mine?
RECITATIVE.
Sylvia.
And must that Kindness meet with this Return?
Is that the Cause which I must ever mourn?
Sure I have to the falsest of Mankind
O, shame! my Honour, and my Heart resign'd.
Colin.
Soon as the welcome Dawn spreads o'er the Skies,
This doleful Ditty takes its awful Rise:
Remains untold till Sol his Course has run,
And often ends not with the setting Sun:
3
The Cuckoo's Tone must tire the list'ning Ear.
AIR.
Consider discreeetly, ere Wedlock you choose,
That nothing but Death can the Bondage unloose;
As Fancy directs, you may now sport and play,
And clasp a new Lover with e'ery Day;
But then, One alone all your Beauty obtains,
And who'd give their Freedom, to rattle in Chains?
That nothing but Death can the Bondage unloose;
As Fancy directs, you may now sport and play,
And clasp a new Lover with e'ery Day;
But then, One alone all your Beauty obtains,
And who'd give their Freedom, to rattle in Chains?
Six Months I have lov'd; 'tis too soon too believe
In Man, that's so cunning, and prone to deceive;
First judge well my Temper, my Humour, and Parts,
For joining of Hands often seperates Hearts.
And when I perceive no Objection remains
I'll marry, and joyfully rattle my Chains.
In Man, that's so cunning, and prone to deceive;
First judge well my Temper, my Humour, and Parts,
For joining of Hands often seperates Hearts.
And when I perceive no Objection remains
I'll marry, and joyfully rattle my Chains.
RECITATIVE.
Sylvia.
How shou'd we act, our certain Fate to shun?
If coy we are disdain'd, If kind undone.
AIR.
When soft Ideas fill the Mind
With pleasing am'rous Pain,
What can a harmless Virgin do?
Resistance is in vain:
For, ah, to hear the deep-fetch'd Sigh,
Behold the streaming wat'ry Eye,
And not, through Sympathy, comply,
Was past the Art of Sylvia.
With pleasing am'rous Pain,
What can a harmless Virgin do?
Resistance is in vain:
For, ah, to hear the deep-fetch'd Sigh,
Behold the streaming wat'ry Eye,
And not, through Sympathy, comply,
Was past the Art of Sylvia.
The Maid who never yet was try'd
Knows not her Virtue's Pow'r;
For oft' the Victim Conq'ror turns,
In one unguarded Hour.
Me, me! ye Nymphs forbear to blame!
But shun the Rock that wrecks my Fame.
Go strait, Betrayer, and proclaim
To all, the Fate of Sylvia.
Knows not her Virtue's Pow'r;
For oft' the Victim Conq'ror turns,
In one unguarded Hour.
Me, me! ye Nymphs forbear to blame!
But shun the Rock that wrecks my Fame.
Go strait, Betrayer, and proclaim
To all, the Fate of Sylvia.
4
Colin.
That I'm above; conceal'd my Transports dwell;
For know, sweet Maid, I scorn to kiss and tell.
Now let's divide, my Sylvia, and repair
You to some kinder Youth, I to as kind a Fair.
Exit.
| The Rover ; Or, Happiness at Last | |