SMALL is the Bee, and makes with his small Sting the most grievous and painful Wounds. But what Thing is smaller than Love? in every little Space he enters, and hides himself in every little Space. Sometimes under the Shade of an Eye-lid, sometimes amongst the little Curls of beautiful Hair, sometimes within the Dimples, which a sweet Smile forms in a lovely Cheek, and yet he makes so deep, so mortal and incu∣rable Wounds. Alas! my Breast is all one bleeding Wound, and cruel Love hath a thousand Darts in the Eyes of Sylvia. Cruel Love, Sylvia Cruel, and more Savage than the Woods. Oh! how does that Name a∣gree with thee, how well did He foresee, that gave it thee.

The Woods conceal Serpents, Lions, and Bears within their verdant Shades, and Thou within thy Lovely Breast con∣cealest Hatred, Disdain, and Cruelty; worse Savages than Serpents, Lions, and Bears: These may be tam'd, but Those never can, either by Intreaties or Gifts. Alas! when I bring new-blown Flowers, thou refusest them perverse, per∣haps, because thou hast Flowers more fair in thy lovely Face; Alas! when I present thee with beautiful Apples, thou refusest them disdainful, perhaps, because thou hast Apples more beautiful in thy lovely Bosom. Alas! when I offer thee delicious Honey, thou rejectest it scornful, perhaps, because thou hast Honey more delicious in thy Lips: But if my Poverty cannot give thee any thing, which is not lovelier and sweeter in thy self; myself I give thee, why do'st thou unjustly despise and abhor the Gift? I am not to be despis'd, if I saw myself a∣right in the liquid Mirror of the Sea, when the other Day the Winds were silent, and the Sea lay still without Waves. This Face of mine of a sanguine Colour, These my large Shoulders, These my brawny nervous Arms, This hairy Breast, and These my shaggy Thighs, are Marks of Strength and Manhood; and if thou art incredulous, make Trial of it. What wilt thou do with those tender Boys, who have the soft Down scarce springing on their Cheeks, and who with Art Page  47 dispose their Hair in Order? these are Women in Shew and in their Strength; tell me, would any of these follow thee through the Woods and the Mountains, and fight by your side against Bears and Wild Boars. I am not Ugly, no, thou can'st never despise me, because I am thus made, but only, be∣cause I am Poor; Alas! that Country-Villages should follow the Example of great Cities: and truly this is the Age of Gold, since Gold alone prevails, Gold only reigns. Oh! whoever thou wert, that taught us first to make a Sale of Love, accurs'd be thy buried Ashes, and cold Bones, and may never be found a Shepherd or Nymph, who passing by, may say, Rest ye in Peace: But may the Rain wash them, and may the Wind toss them, and may the Flocks and the Traveller trample them with un∣clean Feet. Thou first didst shame the the Nobility of Love; Thou didst imbit∣ter all its pleasant Sweets: Venal Love, Love, the Servant of Gold, is the greatest, the most abominable and hideous Monster, that e'er the Earth produc'd, or the Sea beneath its Waters. But why do I tor∣ment myself in vain? all Creatures make Use of those Arms which Nature has given them for their Safety; the Stagg exercises his Speed, the Lion his Claws, and the foam∣ing Boar his Tusks; and Beauty and Grace are the Power, and the Arms of a Woman. Why don't I, for my own Assistance, make Use of Violence, since Nature Page  49 has made me fit to commit Violence, and to Ra∣vish; I'll force and ravish that, which she un∣gratefully denies me, as the Reward of my Love. For as a Goat-herd has inform'd me, who has been Eye-Witness, and ob∣ferv'd her Steps, she's accustom'd to go often to refresh herself at a Fountain, and he has shewn me the Place; There I de∣sign to hide myself amongst the Bushes and the Shrubs, and wait, till she comes, and as I see an opportunity, rush out upon her; what Opposition, either by her Flight, or with her Arms, can a tender Maid make against me, so Swift and so Strong? let her then Weep and Sigh, and use all the Power of Intreaty and Beauty: if I can once wreath my Hand in her Hair, She shall not part from thence till I have bath'd, for my Revenge, my Arms in her Blood.