The Kind MISTRESS:
Who being jealous that the Man she lov'd,
Constant unto another Woman prov'd,
She could not brook another should possess,
Him whom she lov'd more then she could express:
She bids him give her Wealth and Honour, all
But his own self, him she her own must call.
To a pleasant new Tune, call'd, The German Princess's Farewel, etc.
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LOng days of absence, Dear, I could endure,
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If thy divided heart were mine secure,
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But each minute I find myself without thee,
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Methinks I find my Rival's arms about thee.
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But she perhaps her interest can improve,
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By all the studied arts of wealth and love;
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Whilst I, alas! poor kind and harmless Creature,
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Plung'd in true patience, trust me it shews good nature.
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In her fair hand lay silver and rich gold,
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But what I must not name let my hand hold:
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Give her rich robes, and jewels without measure,
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Do but allow me every night the pleasure.
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I dye to think that hapless I should lose,
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Those sweet imbraces no one can refuse,
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Yet dare I not for shame my flames discover,
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I dread the name of, Poor Forsaken Lover.
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If she have wit and beauty, charms of love,
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Some think I have the same, and those will move;
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If she can smile, and kiss, and cling about you,
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All these I'll do before I'll go without you.
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O let not all my Rival's laugh and say,
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I am become a silly Cast-away;
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Though all are bound to pay you wealth and honour,
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It all comes short of what you lay upon her.
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I'll force my soul, and summon all my charms,
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E'er any she shall lye within your arms,
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Except I found decays in every feature,
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Or that old age had spoil'd the works of Nature.
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Oh! oh! my Dear, where art, where art thou now?
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Hear my sweet call, and hearken to my vow,
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What tho' you love her, yet you ought to leave her,
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I vow my heart shall be thine own forever.
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I'll act such things, i'll laugh, and dance, and sing,
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I'll hug and kiss, and love like anything;
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Then change me not, till I can do no longer,
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I'll use a means to make my spirits stronger.
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But if she must have interest in your heart,
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Dear Love, let it be but the weaker part;
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Or if she once enjoy's a greater blessing,
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You know my thoughts without the words expressing,
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Should I be left by you, and quite forlorn,
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All other objects my proud heart would scorn;
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But if you still persist and will not mind me,
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I'll mourn to death and leave her here behind me.
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When Death hath done its worst, and I am cold,
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'Twill force a sigh when you such clay behold;
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Alas! too late you'll with your Friends lament me,
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But when I was alive you'd not content me.
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