The Lovers Invitation: OR, THE Forsaken Batchelors Complaint. It Being a Pleasant New PLAY-SONG. See how Cross Fates work Lovers daily woe, Which from hard-hearted Virgins Eyes they throw; Such as Create Diseases in the Mind, For which no Cure but yielding Love they Find. To the Tune of, Love in Phantastick Triumph sat ; Or, May in all her Youthful Dress.
|
L Ove in Phantastick Triumph sat,
|
whilst Bleeding hearts around him flow'd
|
From whose fresh pains he did create,
|
and strange Tyrannick power he show'd;
|
From thy Bright eyes he took his Fires,
|
which round about in Sport he hurl'd,
|
But 'twas from mine he took desire,
|
enough 'tundo th' Amorous World.
|
From me he took his sighs and tears,
|
from thee his pride and cruelty,
|
From me his languishment and fears,
|
and e'ry killing Dart from thee?
|
Thus thou and I the God have arm'd,
|
and set him up a Deity,
|
But my poor heart alone is harm'd,
|
whilst thine the Victor is, and free.
|
O're me he reigns without controul,
|
spurs on my passion as he please,
|
and with Loves Feavours heat my soul,
|
whilst you are calm and live at ease:
|
Whilst you your Ears shut to my moan,
|
and turn my gentle sighs away,
|
You little think I am undone,
|
whilst with your frowns you Love delay.
|
What if my Wealth be not so great,
|
if Lands and Flocks I call not mine;
|
Can Fair Aminta therefore [ha]te,
|
can she on nought but Riches shine;
|
True Love and Fortune seldome lye
|
under one Roof, seldome agree,
|
Riches true Love can never buy,
|
by Treasure it can't purchast be.
|
Fortune it's true has large command.
|
Riches and Honour her obey,
|
Yet ne'r with mighty Love could stand,
|
o're true Love she ne'r yet had sway,
|
Then turn my Dear Aminta turn,
|
to thy admiring Loving Swain,
|
Who scorch'd by your fair Eyes do burn,
|
and without you must live in pain.
|
Must Sigh his days away in grief,
|
and tell the senceless Woods his woe,
|
To Rocks complain without relief,
|
if you my Dear no pitty show:
|
O give a Cordial Smile to raise
|
my Drooping Soul send from your Eyes
|
Those pleasing Glances, those sweet Rays,
|
that can with ease all Hearts surprize.
|
Consider well that you was made
|
to yield to Love and soft Delight,
|
O why are then our joys delay'd,
|
why turn you thus our day to night:
|
A thing so fair sure never can
|
be cruel, when such vows are sent,
|
To all the powers of Love by Man,
|
to ratifie his true intent.
|
Delay not then, no more delay,
|
come smile a Gentle smile or two,
|
And turn my night into a Day,
|
restore me, make me live a new:
|
To Pleasure you my care shall be,
|
my Tongue shall your loud praises chime,
|
Aminta then be kind and free,
|
and loose not in disdain your Prime.
|
Great Nature made you for increase,
|
and things not us'd, their Luster loose,
|
Then to be Cruel ever cease,
|
and a Kind Lover kindly chuse;
|
Love and good Nature do not scorn,
|
O! be not cruel to the Man
|
Who for your sake so oft doth mourn,
|
Who must without you be undone.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|
|