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XII.

SONG OF A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS,

Who being cross'd by their Friends, fell mad for one another; and now first meet in Bedlam.

[Music within.]

The lovers enter at opposite doors, each held by a

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For like him there is none:

'Tis the dear, dear man; 'tis thee, Dear! AMYNTAS. Hark! the winds war;

The foamy waves roar;

I see a ship a far,

Tossing and tossing, and making to the shore:
But what's that I view,

So radiant of hue,

St. Hermo, St. Hermo, that sits upon the sails? Ah! no, no, no;

St. Hermo never, never shone so bright;

'Tis Phyllis, only Phyllis, can shoot so fair a light: 'Tis Phyllis, 'tis Phyllis, that saves the ship alone, For all the winds are hush'd, and the storm is overblown.

PHYL. Let me go, let me run, let me fly to his
AMYNT. If all the Fates combine,

And all the Furies join,

[arms.

I'll force my way to Phyllis, and break through

their charms.

[Here they break from their keepers, run to each other, and embrace.]

PHYL. Shall I marry the man I love?
And shall I conclude my pains?
Now bless'd be the Pow'rs above!
I feel the blood bound in my veins ;
With a lively leap it began to move,
And the vapours leave my brains.

AMYNT. Body join'd to body, and heart join'd

To make sure of the cure,

[to heart; Go, call the man in black to mumble o'er his part. PHYL. But suppose he should stayAMYNT. At worst if he delay,

'Tis a work must be done,

(We'll borrow but a day,)

And the better, the sooner begun.

Cho. of both.] At worst if he delay, &c.
[They run out together hand in hand.]

W

XIII.

SONG.

FROM "MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE,"

I.

HY should a foolish marriage vow,

Which long ago was made,

Oblige us too each other now,
When passion is decayed?

There are several excellent songs in "King Arthur," so interwoven with the fable of the drama, that they would suffer, in effect and intelligibility, if separated. A song in "Love in a Nunnery," and another in" The Duke of Guise," are not worth transcribing. B 2

We lov'd, and we lov'd, as long as we could,

Till our love was lov'd out of us both; But our marriage is dead, when the pleasures are 'Twas pleasure first made it an oath.

11.

If I have pleasures for a friend,

And farther love in store;

What wrong has he, whose joys did end,
And who could give no more?

'Tis a madness that he

Should be jealous of me,

Or that I should bar him of another;
For all we can gain

Is to give ourselves pain,
When neither can hinder the other.

[fled;

XIV.

SONG.

From "TYRANNIC LOVE."

I.

AH, how sweet it is to love!

Ah, how gay is young desire!
And what pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach love's fire!
Pains of love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.

II.

Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
E'en the tears they shed, alone,
Cure, like trickling balm, the smart.
Lovers, when they lose their breath,

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Love and Time with rev'rence use,
Treat them like a parting friend:
Nor the golden gifts refuse,

Which in youth sincere they send;
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.

IV.

Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein;
But each tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink-in again:
If a flow in age appear,

'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

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TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM.

FAREWELL, too little and too lately known,
Whom I began to think, and call-my own;
For, sure, our souls were near ally'd; and thine
Cast in the same poetic mould with mine:
One common note on either lyre did strike,
And knaves and fools we both abhor'd alike:
To the same goal did both our studies drive;
The last set out, the soonest did arrive.
Thus Nisus fell upon the slipp'ry place,
Whilsthis young friend perform'd, and won the race.
O early ripe! to thy abundant store,

What could advancing age have added more?
It might (what Nature never gives the young,)
Have taught the smoothness of thy native tongue.
But satire needs not those; and wit will shine
Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line:
A noble error, and but seldom made;
When poets are by too much force betray'd.
Thy gen'rous fruits, tho' gather'd ere their prime,
Still shew'd a quickness; and maturing Time
But mellows what we write, to the dull sweets
of rhyme.

Once more, hail, and farewell; farewell thou young,
But, ah, too short Marcellus of our tongue!

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