The True Lover's Paradice.
Cupid with his Golden Dart!
Pierc'd this Youngster to the Heart;
He counts Love a pleasant pain,
And his Freedom doth disdain,
Let other Lovers pattern take
By him who'll Dye for Celia's sake.
To an Excellent New Play-House Tune: Or, Ah how Pleasant are the Charms of Love.
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AH! how pleasant are the Charms of Love,
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which like Streams are always flowing?
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Ah! how pleasant are the Charms of Love,
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which like Streams are always flowing?
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So my Passion's still a growing,
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nothing but my Celias eyes can move,
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So my Passion's stil a growing,
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perfect and immortal are the joys above.
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When Celia did my heart surprize,
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every Sinew felt a pleasure;
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Each kind look from her obliging eyes
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fill'd my heart with endless Treasure:
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Love, O Love! is the only Treasure,
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joy and blessing from the grave and wise,
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Give me Love, and Life, and Pleasure,
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I shall never envy what the World enjoys.
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In Love I chiefly now delight,
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and Doting grown in me no wonder,
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The Darts which did me once affright,
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and dread me far worse than Thunder,
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Now are welcome unto me,
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increasing still my warm desire:
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Celia's Captive I must be,
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she and none but she, that feeds my fire.
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'Tis she that breeds my hearts content,
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I am like one dead without her,
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If from me once she doth absent,
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she carries all joys about her:
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With her looks she kills or saves me,
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and breeds my comfort, or my grief,
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In subjection she enslaves me,
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Celia thou most cunningly hast plaid the Thief.
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I now take pleasure in my Chains,
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in my Fetters I delight me,
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Yet sure to feel uncessant pains,
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if my Celia once doth slight me:
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On my heart is her impression,
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adding to my passion night and day,
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I from Love make no digression,
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Celia at thy feet my dearest Life I'll lay
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Oh was ever such a pleasant wound
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as my tender heart hath pierced?
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Or ever such a pleasing sound?
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or any in love better versed;
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Freedom now shall be despised,
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and Celia I am only thine;
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His sences sure must be disguised
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that in his heart desires to be a Libertine.
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Cupid I will only thee adore,
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and account it clear my Duty,
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My reason I do shew therefore,
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I am compell'd by Beauty
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Thy fairest eyes have so encharm'd me,
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thy self-love I must deny,
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And Love's Fire's so strangely warm'd me,
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Celia I most freely for thy Love can dye.
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Farewell all those pleasant Joys
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wherein Free-men are delighted;
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For they to me appear as Toys,
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by me they ever shall be slighted:
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Love's the thing that doth possess me,
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his Riches fain I would enjoy,
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With my Celia, Cupid bless me,
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nothing then of Crosses can my Love annoy.
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