The
Young Lovers ENQUIRY:
OR,
The Batchelors Question to Cupid.
To an Excellent New Ayre, Sung at the Play-House.
IF Love's a sweet passion, why does it torment? If a bitter, O tell me, whence comes my content?
Since I suffer with pleasure, why should I complain, Or grieve at my fate, when I know 'tis in vain,
Yet so pleasing the pain is, so soft is the dart, That at once it both wounds me, and tickles my heart.
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II.
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I grasp her Hand gently, look languishing down,
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And by passionate silence I make my love known;
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But oh! how I'm blest when so kind she does prove,
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By some willing mistake, to discover her love;
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When in striving to hide it, she reveals all her flame,
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And our eyes tell each other what neither can name.
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III.
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How pleasant is beauty? how sweet are the charms?
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How delightful embraces? how peaceful her arms?
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Sure there's nothing so easie, as learning to love,
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It's taught us on earth, and by all things above;
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And to beauty's bright standard all the hero's must yield,
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For 'tis beauty that conquers and keeps the fair field.
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IV.
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To beauty's bright scepter thus all things do bow,
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'Tis to her that we court, and to her that we wooe;
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It so strangely does vanquish, and soften the mind,
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That we yield at first sight, to a beauty that's kind:
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'Tis a treasure we dote on, and dream on each night,
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And there's nothig but beauty can breed such delight.
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V.
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As soon as the mornings bright rays I behold,
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(Like a bride deck'd with roses, and rubies, and gold)
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Straight I think on fair Celia, divine and so sweet,
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And long for to see her and sigh at her feet:
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Every moment I'm absent, I languish and dye,
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And I live by the sweetness and beams of her eye.
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VI.
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Then grant, O ye powers, that her I may find
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Always yielding to love, and most charmingly kind;
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That at last by entreaties, she may be my bride,
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And I have the honour to lye by her side:
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Oh! the pleasures that beauties can give when they please,
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They can wound and can cure a poor lover with ease.
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VII.
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I'll envy no princes, but sweetly will live,
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Rest contented with pleasures that Celia can give;
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From all rivals and fears, may we both ever live free,
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And for ever be happy, and ever agree:
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Thus sweetness and innocent freedom we'll prove
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All the joys that kind heav'n gives to those that do love.
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