The mysteries of love & eloquence, or, The arts of wooing and complementing as they are manag'd in the Spring Garden, Hide Park, the New Exchange, and other eminent places : a work in which is drawn to the life the deportments of the most accomplisht persons, the mode of their courtly entertainments, treatments of their ladies at balls, their accustom'd sports, drolls and fancies, the witchcrafts of their perswasive language in their approaches, or other more secret dispatches ...

The Melancholy Lover.

HIther I come delightful groves To spend my sighs, and make my moan, To whose still shades it best behoves To make my plaints and sorrows known, And these gentle trees invite, To pity my disconsolate plight.

'Tis rigorous love that doth torment This disturbed heart of mine;

But of a Creature so Divine, That I ought not to repent To have loved, though unlov'd again, The sole author of my pain.

Is bright Sylvia gentle bowrs, To your gloomy walks unknown? Who loves to spend the harmless hours Among silent groves alone; Hnd can with her presence bright To the darkest shades give light.

Sylvia hath about her charms Nations able to subdue; And can conquer with those arms More then mightiest Kings can do: But I that am her chiefest aim, Am destin'd to the greatest flame.

I die Sylvia, when I behold Those eyes that set on fire my heart; Yet I (for love is uncontroll'd) Greedy, and fond of my own smart: And captive to my misery, Love to behold those Stars, and die.