 | Poems |  |
The Cure.
Nymph.VVhat busie Cares too timely born
(Young Swain!) disturb thy sleep?
Thy early sighs awake the Morn,
Thy tears teach her to weep.
15
Sorrows fair Nymph are full alone
Nor counsel can endure.
Nymph.
Yet thine disclose, for until known
Sickness admits no Cure.
Shepherd.
My Griefs are such as but to hear
Would poyson all thy Joyes,
The Pitty which thou seem'st to bear
My Health, thine own destroyes.
Nymph.
How can diseased Minds infect?
Say what thy Grief doth move!
Shepherd.
Call up thy vertue to protect
Thy Heart, and know 'twas Love.
Nymph.
Fond Swain!
Shepherd.
By which I have been long
Destin'd to meet with Hate.
Nymph.
Fy Shepherd fy: thou dost Love wrong,
To call thy Crime thy Fate.
16
Alas what Cunning could decline,
What Force can Love repel?
Nymph.
Yet, there's a Way to unconfine
Thy Heart.
Shepherd.
For pitty tell.
Nymph.
Choose one whose Love may be allur'd
By thine: who ever knew
Inveterate Diseases cur'd
But by receiving new?
By thine: who ever knew
Inveterate Diseases cur'd
But by receiving new?
Shepherd.
All will like her my Soul perplex.
Nymph.
Yet try.
Shepherd.
Oh could there be,
But any softness in that Sex,
I'd wish it were in Thee.
Nymph.
Thy Prayer is heard: learn now t'esteem
The kindness She hath shown
Who thy lost freedom to redeem
Hath forfeited her own.
The kindness She hath shown
Who thy lost freedom to redeem
Hath forfeited her own.
| Poems | |