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The Languishing LOVER Cured, And the Coy LADY by Cupid Converted.
In a Passionate Discourse of Love, between Florio, Cupid, and Philida.
To the Tune of, Hang sorrow cast away Care.
[illustration]
[illustration]
VVHat a sorry Life I live,
since that Love hath found me,
And what Treasures would I give,
that Cupid had not bound me:
For his Dart hath pierc'd my Heart,
I cannot endure it,
And inflicted so much smart,
That no Herb can cure it.
Surely Cupid is not blind.
but hath Eyes to sée with,
And his Dart hath prov'd unkind,
that he wounded me with;
For it did all Comfort Kill
when it pierc'd into me,
And my Soul with sorry fil'd,
Oh! it will undo me.
Heavens bless my dying Heart,
heavenly Powers defend me,
Love néed not use so much Art
and Cruelty to bend me:
For my silly Soul did yield,
when 'twas first assailed,
And to Cupid gave the Field,
Oh! then my spirits failed.
Cupid, What is thy intent.
what is thy desire?
Let thy Bow be now unbent,
for I am all on fire:
O! swéet gentle God of Love,
let thy Arrows miss me,
Let her whom (in vain) I love▪
Kill me, if not kiss me.
What a pining Life have I,
what a sad Condition?
Ease me Love, and let me fly,
this lingring Contrition:
Kiss me, or else cure my Wound,
O! some pitty show me;
Can there no Relief be found,
But Love must overflow me.
If my worthless Body must,
be thy Arrows di••t,
Then convert me into Dust,
and let me have some quiet:
Let thy Arrows take their fill,
since she cannot abide me,
With my Blood, come Cupid swill,
Thou enough hast try'd me.
[illustration]
[illustration]
FOre'd I am to yield I sée,
and adore thy Power,
For thy Art hath conquer'd me,
and hath brought me lower:
I that did before neglect,
and dispise to love thée,
Give thée now all due respect,
And for pitty move thee.
O! swéet Love be not so fierce,
but with pitty moved,
Let thy Golden Arrow pierce,
the Heart of my beloved:
Let us share in equal parts,
and prostrate lie before the,
Then our joyful flaming hearts,
For ever shall Implore thee.
(he lies down.)
The Authour.
Cupid hearing this Complaint,
fearing 'twould undo him,
Sends his best beloved Saint,
fitly fixt unto him?
Cupid doth himself descend,
from his shrine of Glory,
To compleat the happy end.
Of this Lovers story.
Cupid.
Loaging Lover live and leave,
this thy sad Lamenting,
Though the Arrows in my sheave
cause this Discontenting:
By my Quiver and my Bow,
I swear she shall not miss thée,
I'le present Her to thée now,
Court her and she'll kiss thee.
Philida.
Where's this loyal Lover that
so with pitty moves me,
Jove forbid that I should hate,
Or kill the Thing that loves me:
I am none of those coy Girles,
that to Death will doom thée,
Knights, & Lords, & Dukes & Earls
shall not take me from thee.
Florio.
What swéet words have I heard said,
lovely smooth and even,
Cupid sure hath struck me dead,
and I am now in Heaven:
This is Philida I sée,
with all joys about Her,
Heaven cannot Heaven be,
If it is without her.
Philida.
Sure 'tis Florio appears,
(as God Cupid chain'd him)
He hath Lov'd me seven Years,
and I as long disdain'd him:
But the God hath struck my heart
and put Love into me,
If Florio should play my part,
'I would utterly undo me.
Florio.
Philida! Oh! Philida,
let me come and Court thée,
By Loves pure and precious Law
I vow, I will not hurt thé:
Saints with Angles that are good,
do as much as this is,
I swear no motion of my blood,
shall mingle with our Kisses.
Philida.
I'le not tie thée up to that,
prethée Kiss and spare not,
And what more thou would'st be at,
in this sit I fear not:
Love cannot be fed with Air,
Kisses are but Bubbles,
But let's be a Wedded pair,
To avoid all troubles.
Florio.
That's a real royal way,
to prevent miscarriage,
There's no Wormwood in the ••oy,
that is mixt in Marriage:
Quick let's to the Altar go,
there to be made Fellows.
Men and Maide are Fire & Tow,
When Cupid blows the Bellows.
FINIS.