Imatges de pÓgina
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In Love the Vietors from the Vanquish'd fly;
They fly that wound, and they pursue that die.

The Face of Love is such,
That still it fees too little or too much./ Dryd. Ind. Emp.

The Proverb holds, That to be wise, and love,
Is hardly granted to the Gods above.
A gen’ral Doom on all Mankind is pass'd,
And all are Fools and Lovers first or laft:
This boch by others and my feif I know,
For I have serv'd their Sov'raign long ago;
Ofc have been caught within the winding Train
Of female Snares, and felt the Lover's Pain ; (Pal. & Arc.

? And learn’d how farthe God can human Hearts constrain. Dryd.

Love is the pleafant Frenzy of the Mind; And frantick Men in their mad Actions show A Happiness that none but Madinen know.

Love is that Madness which all Lovers have;
But yet ’tis sweet and pleasing so to rave:
'Tis an Enchantment where the Reason's bound,
But Paradise is in th'enchanted Ground;

A Palace void of Envy, Cares and Strife,
Where gentle Hours delude so much of Life.
To take chofe Charms away, and set me free,
Is but to lend me into Misery ;
And Prudence, of whose Cure you so much boast,

(Ghan. Reitores the Pains which that sweet Folly lost. Dryd. Cong. of

I have no Reason lefc that can assist me,
And none would have! My Love's a noble Madness,
Which shews the Cause deserves it. Mod'rate Sorrow
Fits vulgar Love, and for a vulgar Man ;
But I have lov'd with such tranícendent Passion,
I foar'd at first guire out of Reason's View,
And now am loft above it.

Dryd. All for Love.
In Love what use of Prudence can there be ?
More perfe&t I, and yer more pow'rful She!
One Look of hers my Resolution breaks ;
Reason it self turns Folly when the speaks ;
And aw'd by her whom it was made to sway,
Flatters her Pow'r and does its own betray. Dryd. State of Ian.

Does the mute Sacrifice upbraid the Priest?
He knows him not the Executioner.
On! she has deck'd his Ruin with her Love;
Led him in yolden Bands to gaudy Slaughter,
And made Perdicion pleasing

Dryd. All for Love,
Wirrels ye Pow'rs!
How much I suffer'd and how much I strove.
But mighty Love who Prudence does despise,


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For Reason shew'd me Indamora's Eyes:
What would you more, my Crime I sadly view;
Acknowledge, am afham'd, and yet pursue. Dryd. Auren,

For Love does human Policy despise,
And laughs at all the Counsels of the Wise. Dav, Circe

For Lovers Hearts are not cheir own Hearts,
Nor Lights, nor Lungs, and so forth, downwards. Hude

I came, I saw, and was undone!
Lightning did chro' my Bones and Marrow run,

A pointed Pain pierc'd deep my Heart,
A swift cold Trenibling seiz'd on ev'ry Part;

My Head turn'd round, nor could it bear
The Poyson that was enter'd chere.

A Change To Twift what Heart did ever feel!
It rush'd upon me like a mighty Stream,
And bore me in a Moment far from Shore !
I've lov'd away my self in one shore Hour;
Already I am gone an Age of Passion.
Was it his Youth, his Valour, or Success?
These might perhaps be found in other Men:
'Twas that Refpect, that awful Homage paid me
Thac fearful Love which trembled in his Eyes,
And with a silent Earthquake shook his Soul :
But when he spoke, what tender Words he said ?
So sofely, that, like Flakes of feather'd Snow,
They melted as they fell.

Dryd. Spex, Fry,
Thus anxious Fears already riez'd the Queen
She fed within her Veins a Flame unseen:
The Heroe's Valour, Acts, and Birth inspire
Her Soul with Love, and fan che secret Fire.
His Words, his Looks, imprinted in her Heart,
Improve the Passion, and encrease the Smarc.

I am not what I was since Yesterday;
My Food forsakes me, and my needful Reft:
I pine, I languish, love to be alone,
Think much, speak little, and in speaking figli:
When I see

Torrifmond I am unquiet,
And when I see him nor I am in Pain.
They brought a Paper to me to be sign’d,
Thinking on him; I quite forgot my Name,
And wric for Leonora, Torrismond.
I went to Bed, and to my self I thought
That I would think on Torrijmond no more
Then shut my Eyes, but could not shut out him.
I turn'd, and try'd each Corner of my Bed
To find if Sleep was there, but Sleep was lost,


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Feav'rish for want of Rest, I rose, and walk'd,
And by the Moonshine to the Windows went ;
There thinking to exclude him from my Thoughts,
I cast my Eyes upon the neighb'ring Fields,
And e'er I was aware ligh'd to my self,
There fought my Torrismond.

Dryd. Span, Fry.
I'm pleas'd and pain's fince first her Eyes I saw,
As I were ftung with some Tarantula :
Arms and the dusty Field I less admire,
And soften ftrangely in some new Desire ;
Honour burns in me not fo fiercely bright,
But pale as Fires when master'd by the Light.
Ev’n while I speak and look, I change yet more,
And now am nothing that I was before.
I'm numb'd and fix'd, and scarce my Eye-balls move;
I fear it is the Lethargy of Love!
'Tis he! I feel him now in ev'ry Part;
Like a new Lord he vaunts about my Heart ;
Surveys in State each Corner of my Breast:
And now I'm all o'er Love !

Dryd. Conq.of Gran,
He'd got a Hurt
On th'Inside of a deadly fort,
By Cupid made, who took his Stand-
Upon a Widow's Jointure Land;
Drew home his Bow, and aiming right,
Ler fly an Arrow at the Knighe:
The Shaft against a Rib did glance,
And gall'd him in the Purtenance.

O Love! O cursed Boy!
Where art thou that cormene'st me thus unseen,
And ragest with thy Fires within my Breast
With idle Purpose to inflame her Heart,
Which is as inaccessible and cold
As the proud Tops of those aspiring Hills
Whofe Heads are wrapt in everlasting Snow,
Tho'che hot Sun roul o'er 'em ev'ry Day :
And as his Beans, which only shine above,
Scorch and consume in Regions round below;
So Love, which throws such Brightness thro' her Eyes,
Leaves her cold Heart, and burns me at her Feet.
My Tyrant, but her fart'ring Slave chou art,

(Valent, A Glory rourd her lovely Face, a file within my Heart. Roch.

That proud Dame for whom his Soul
Was burnt in's Belly to a Coal,
Usd him fo like a base Rascallion,
That old Pyg (what d'y' call him) malion,


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That cut his Mistress out of Stone,
Had not so hard a hearted one.

Love, like a Shadow, while Youth shines is shown;
But in old Age's Darkness there is none. How. D. of Lerm.

Mine was an Age when Love might be excus’d;
When kindly Warmth, and when my springing Youth
Made it a Debt to Nature : Yours in your declining Age ;
When no more Heat was left but what


When all the Sap was needful for the Trunk;
When it went down, then you constrain'd the Course,
And robb’d from Nature to supply Desire :
Oh! 'tis meer Dotage in you.

Dryd. All for Love
The Bloom of Beauty other Years demands,
Nor will be gather'd with such wither'd Hands:
You importune us with a false Desire,
Which sparkles out, and makes no folid Fire.
This Impudence of Age, whence can it spring ?
All you expect, and yet you nothing bring :
Eager to ask, when you are past a Grant ;
Nice in providing what you cannot want:
Have Conscience; give not her you love this Pain;
Solicit not your self and her in vain :
All other Debts may Compensation find,
But Love is ftri&t, and will be paid in kind. Dryd, Auren.

You cannot love, nor Pleasure cake nor give ; But Life begin when 'tis too late to live : On a tir'd Courses you pursue Delight; Let slip your Morning, and set out at Night. Dryd. Auren.


While on Septimius panting Breast,
Meaning nothing lefs than Reft,
ficme lean'd her loving Head,
Thus the pleas'd Septimius said:
My dearest Acme! if I be
Once alive, and love not thee,
With a Passion far above
All that e'er was called Love,
In a Lybian Defart may
I become some Lion's Prey;
Let him, Acme! let him tear
My Breast, when Acme is not there.

Acme, inflam'd with what he said,
Rear'd her gently-bending Head;
And her purple Mouth with Joy
Stretching to the delicious Boy,
Twice (and twice could scarce suffice)
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She kiss d bis drunken rowling Eyes :
My little Life! my all! said the,
So may we ever Servants be
To this best God, and ne'er retain
Our hated Liberty again:
So may thy Passion last for me,
As la Passion have for thee ;
Greater and fiercer much than can
Be conceiv d by thee, a Man.
Into my Marrow it is gone,
Fix'd and setti'd in the Bone ;
It reigns not only in my Heart,
But runs like Lifa ro' ev'ry Part. Cowl. Cat.

Madam 11 as is my Duty,
Honour the Shadow of your Shoe-tie.

For your Love does lie
As near and as nigh
Unto my Heart within,
As my Eye to my Nose,
My Leg to my Hose,

Or my Flesh unto my Skin. Shak. Locrine.
My Love's to violent, so strong, fo fure,
As neither Age can change, nor Art can cure. Dryd. Virg.

All conftant Lovers fhall in future Ages
Approve their Truth by Troilus : When their Verse,
Full of Proteft, and Oath, and big Compare,
Want Similes; as Turtles to their Mates,
As true as flowing Tides are to the Moon,
Earth to the Centre, Iron to Adamane :
At last, when Truth is tir'd with Repetition,
As true as Troilies shall crown the Verse,
And fanctify the Numbers.

Prophet may you be!
If I am false, or swerve from Truth and Love;
When Time is old, and has forgot it felf
In all things else, let it remember me ;
And after all Comparisons of Falshood,
To sab the Heart of Perjury in Maids,
Let it be said, as false as Créfida. Shik. Dryd. Troil. & Cros.

Go bid the Needle his dear North forsake,
To which with trembling Rev'rence it does bend;
Go bid the Stones a Journey upward make;
Go bid th'ainbitious Flame no more ascend :
and when these false to their old Motions prove,
Then will I cease thee, thee alone, to love.

Quoth he, to bid me not to love,
Is to forbid my Pulse to move ;


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