............!

Is it because you fear to share
The ills that love molest;
The jealous doubt, the tender care,
That rack the am'rous breast?

Alas! by some degree of woe

We every bliss must gain : The heart can ne'er a transport know, That never feels a pain.

[CONGREVE.]

CYNTHIA frowns whene'er I woo her, Yet she's vex'd if I give over;

Much she fears I should undo her,

But much more to lose her lover:

Thus in doubting she refuses,
And not winning thus she loses.

Pr'ythee, Cynthia, look behind you,

Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you, Then too late desire will find you

When the power does forsake you. Think, oh! think, the sad condition To be past, yet wish fruition.

[CONGREVE.]

LOVE's but the frailty of the mind When 'tis not with ambition join'd; A sickly flame, which if not fed, expires, And feeding, wastes in self-consuming fires.

"Tis not to wound a wanton boy,

Or amorous youth, that gives the joy; But 'tis the glory to have pierc'd a swain For whom inferior beauties sigh'd in vain.

Then I alone the conquest prize,
When I insult a rival's eyes;

If there's delight in love, 'tis when I see
The heart which others bleed for, bleed for me.

[CONGREVE.]

FAIR Amoret is gone astray,

Pursue and seek her, every lover; I'll tell the signs by which you may The wand'ring shepherdess discover.