For me t' admire, at such a rate,
So damn'd a face, will prove
You have as little cause to hate,
As I had cause to love.

SONG XI.

A FAREWELL

TO LO V E.

BY SIR CHARLES SEDLEY.

NCE more Loves mighty charms are broke,
His ftrength and cunning I defy;

Once more I have thrown off his yoke,
And am a man, and do despise the boy.

Thanks to her pride, and her difdain,
And all the follies of a fcornful mind:
I'd ne'er poffefs'd my heart again,
If fair Miranda had been kind.

Welcome, fond wanderer, as ease,

And plenty to a wretch in pain,
That worn with want and a disease,
Enjoys his health, and all his friends again.

Let others wafte their time and youth,

Watch and look pale, to gain a peevish maid, And learn too late this dear-bought truth,

At length they're sure to be betray'd.

When least I feem'd concern'd, I took

No pleasure, nor no reft;
And when I feign'd an angry look,

Alas! I lov'd you beft.

F

ALSE though she be to me and love,
I'll ne'er pursue revenge;
For ftill the charmer I approve,

Though I deplore her change.

In hours of blifs we oft have met,
They could not always laft;
And though the prefent I regret,
I'm grateful for the past.

SONG XIV.

BY

MR.

ADDISON*.

F 'tis joy to wound a lover,

I more to give him eafe,

When his paffion you discover?

Ah! how pleafing 'tis to please: The bliss returns, and we receive Transports greater than we give.

*In the

opera of Rofamond.

I 4

SONG

SONG XV.

LOVE FOR LO V E.

BY SIR FULKE GREVILL, LORD BROOKE.

A

WAY with these felf-loving lads,
Whom Cupids arrow never glads!
Away poor fouls, that figh and weep,
In love of those that lie asleep!

For Cupid is a merry god,

An. forceth none to kifs the rod.

Sweet Cupids fhafts like destiny
Do caufelefs good or ill decree;
Defert is borne out of his bow,
Reward upon his wing doth go!

What fools are they that have not known,
That Love likes no laws but his own?

My fongs they be of Cynthias praise,
I wear her rings on holidays,
In every tree I write her name,
And every day I read the fame.
Where Honour Cupids rival is
There miracles are feen of his !

If Cynthia crave her ring of me,
I blot her name out of the tree:
If doubt do darken things held dear,
Then well-fare nothing once a year!
For many run, but one muft win!
Fools only hedge the cuckow in!

The

The worth that worthiness should move
Is love, that is the bow of Love;
And love as well the fofter can,
As can the mighty noble-man.

Sweet faint, 'tis true, you worthy be:
Yet, without love, nought worth to me.

SONG XVI.

BY JOHN BULTEEL*.

CH

HLORIS, 'twill be for eithers reft
Truly to know each others breast;
I'll make th' obscurest part of mine
Tranfparent, as I would have thine:
If you will deal but so with me,
We foon fhall part, or foon agree.

Know then, though you were twice as fair,
If it could be, as now you are;

And though the graces of your mind

With a resembling luftre shin'd;

Yet, if you lov'd me not, you'd fee
I'd value those as you do me.

* A perfon, of whom, it is believed, nothing more is known, than that he was the collector of a small miscellany, published about the middle of the laft century, whence this and another fong are extracted, both of which were ascribed to him by manuscript notes in a copy the editor has feen: it was therefor but justice to prefix his name.

Though