Oh! Love, that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,
Want to be prized above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of thy Tyranny complain,
We all are bettered by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe.
Love wakes the dull from sluggish Ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold.
’Tis he reforms the Sot from Drink,
And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choak’d the Glutton lies, and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine’st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue’s unconquerable Aid,
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind retire
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth’s kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest.
Gay. Ah, Julia, Julia! if this soft Preparation
Were but to bring me to thy dear Embraces;
What different Motions wou’d surround my Soul,
From what perplex it now.
Enter Nymphs and Shepherds, and dance.
[Then two dance alone. All go out but Pert and a Shepherd.
— If these be Devils, they are obliging ones:
I did not care if I ventur’d on that last Female Fiend.
Man sings.
Cease your Wonder, cease your Guess,
Whence arrives your happiness.
Cease your Wonder, cease your Pain,
Human Fancy is in vain.
Chorus.
’Tis enough, you once shall find, Fortune may to Worth be kind; [gives him Gold. And Love can leave off being blind.
Pert sings.
You, before you enter here
On this sacred Ring must swear,
[Puts it on his Finger, holds his Hand.
By the Figure which is round,
Your Passion constant and profound;
By the Adamantine Stone,
To be fixt to one alone:
By the Lustre, which is true,
Ne’er to break your sacred Vow.
Lastly, by the Gold that’s try’d,
For Love all Dangers to abide.
They all dance about him, while those same two sing.
Man. Once about him let us move,
To confirm him true to Love. [bis.
Pert. Twice with mystick turning Feet,
Make him silent and discreet. [bis.
Man. Thrice about him let us tread,
To keep him ever young in Bed. [bis.
Gives him another part.
Man. Forget Aminta’s proud Disdain;
Haste here, and sigh no more in vain,
The Joy of Love without the Pain.
Pert. That God repents his former Slights,
And Fortune thus your Faith requites.
Both. Forget Aminta’s proud Disdain;
Then taste, and sigh no more in vain,
The Joy of Love without the Pain,
The Joy of Love without the Pain.
[Exeunt all Dancers. Looks on himself, and feels about him.
Gay. What the Devil can all this mean? If there be a Woman in the Case — sure I have not liv’d so bad a Life, to gain the dull Reputation of so modest a Coxcomb, but that a Female might down with me, without all this Ceremony. Is it care of her Honour? — that cannot be — this Age affords none so nice: Nor Fiend nor Goddess can she be, for these I saw were Mortal. No— ’tis a Woman — I am positive. Not young nor handsom, for then Vanity had made her glory to have been seen. No — since ’tis resolved, a Woman — she must be old and ugly, and will not balk my Fancy with her sight, but baits me more with this essential Beauty.
Well — be she young or old, Woman or Devil, She pays, and I’ll endeavour to be civil.
[Exit.