BEAUTYs Cruelty:
OR,
The Passionate Lover.
An excellent new Play-song much in Request, to a Play-house Tune. Licensed according to Order.
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THere is one black and sullen hour,
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which Fate decrees our lives should know,
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Else we shoud flight Almighty Power,
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Wrapt with the Joys we find below:
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Tis past dear Cynthia, now let frowns be gone,
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Along, 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! unknown.
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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 wakd 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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Lovd less, lovd less, for being true,
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lovd less, lovd less, for being true.
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Before 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 piercing frowns breeds my Despair,
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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 created in it a Fire,
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and created, 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 tyranize,
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but all your cruelty give ore
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And not a heart so true despise,
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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 me by your disdain.
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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 tortue me,
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I offer you a Heart thats free
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I offer you a Heart, etc.
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From false deceit and flattery,
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from false deceit and flattery.
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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 enflame,
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her cruelty breeds my despair:
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Make her more kind, you Powers, then I crave.
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That she may cure the wound she gave,
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that she may cure, etc.
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Or send me to my wisht-for Grave,
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or send me to my wisht-for Grave.
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