BEAUTIES CRUELTY:
OR, THE
Passionate Lover
An Excellent New Play-Song, much in Request. To a New Play-house Tune.
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T Here is one black and sullen Hour,
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which Fate Decrees our Lives should know;
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Else we should slight Almighty Power,
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wrap'd with the Joys we find below;
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'Tis past, dear Cynthia , now let Frowns be gone,
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a long long Pennance I have done,
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a long long Pennance I have done,
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For Crimes, to me, alas unknown,
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for Crimes, to me, alas unkown .
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In each soft Hour of silent Night,
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your Image in my Dream appears;
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I grasp the Soul of my Delight,
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slumber in Joy, but wak'd in Tears:
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Ah, faithless Charming Saint, what will you do,
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let me not think I am by you,
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let me not think I am by you ,
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Lov'd less, lov'd less, for being true,
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lov'd less, lov'd less, for being true .
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B efore dear Cynthia , I beheld
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thy charming face, my heart was free,
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From love, and knew not how to yield
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to any beauty but to thee:
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Bright as the Sun that in the East doth rise,
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Did force me by a sweet surprize,
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did force me by a sweet surprize ,
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To yield the conquest to your eyes.
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to yield the conquest to your eyes .
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One pleasing Smile, my charming fair,
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my Love-sick heart with joy to fill;
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Thy pierceing Frowns breeds my Dispair,
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Oh! let those Eyes that Wound, not kill:
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Since by a Smile my heart you did Inspire,
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And cre-a-ted in it a Fire,
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and cre-a-ted, etc.
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That never, never can Expire,
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that never, never can Expire .
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No longer then thus Tyrannize,
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but all your cruelty give or'e;
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And not a heart to true dispise,
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that will for ever you adore:
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Ah! Charming Nymph , grant love, for love again
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Do not by Frowns create my Pain;
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do not by Frowns, etc.
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Nor Torture me by your disdain:
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nor Torture, etc.
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What is my Crime, dear Cynthia , that
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my punishment is so severe?
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Tell me that I may Expiate
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my Crime, by a Repenting Tear;
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Forbear by Cruelty to torture me,
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I offer you a Heart that's free,
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I offer you, etc.
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From falce deceit and flattery?
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from falce Deceit, etc.
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Oh! why you powers did you frame
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her heart so hard and face so fair?
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Her face did first my heart inflame,
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her cruelty breeds my dispair:
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Make her more kind, you powers then I crave
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That she my cure the wounds she gave,
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that she may cure the wounds she gave ;
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Or send me to my wish't for Grave,
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Or send me to my wish't for Grave .
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