STATE & AMBITION.
A New SONG AT THE DUKES THEATRE.
[...]
I.
STate and Ambition alas will deceive ye,
there's no sollid joy but the Blessing of Love,
Scorn does of Pleasure fair
Silvia bereave ye,
your fame is not perfect till that your remove:
Monark's that sway the vast Globe in their glory
now Love is their brightest jewel of Power,
Poor
Strephons heart was ordain'd to Adore ye,
ah! then disdain his passion no more.
II.
Jove in his Throne was the Victim of Beauty,
his thunder laid by, he from Heaven came down
Shap'd like a Swan, to fair
Leda paid duty,
& priz'd her far more than his Heavenly Crown:
She too was pleas'd with her Beautiful Lover,
she strack'd his fair Plumes and feasted her eye,
And he too in loving, knew well how to move her
by Billing begins the Business of joys.
III.
Since Divine powers example have given,
if we do not follow their precepts we sin,
Sure 'twill appear an affront to their Heaven,
if when the Gates open we enter not in:
Beauty my dearest was from the beginning,
ordained to cool Mans Amorous rage,
And she that against that decree will be sinning,
in Spring she will find the Winter of Age.
IV.
Think on the pleasure while love's in it glory,
let not your scorn loves great Altar disgrace,
The time it may come when no Swain will adore ye
or smooth the least wrincle age lays on your face
Then hast to enjoyment whilst love is fresh blooming,
and I in my heighth and vigour of day,
Each minute we loose our pleasure's consuming,
and seven years to come will not one past repay.
V.
Think my dear
Silvia, the Heavenly blessing,
of loving in Youth is the Crown of our days,
Short are the hours where Love is possessing,
but tedious the minutes when crost with delays
Love's the soft Anvil where Nature's agreeing,
all Mankind are form'd, and by it they move,
'Tis thence my dear
Silvia and I have our being,
the
Cesar and
Swain spring from Almighty
love.
VI.
I see my dear
Silvia at last has consented,
that Blush in your Cheek does plainly appear,
And nought but delay shall be ever repented,
so faithful i'le prove, and so true to my dear:
Then
Hymen prepare, and light all thy Torches,
perfume thy head Altar, and strew all the way,
By little degrees Love makes his approaches,
but Revels at Night for the loss of the Day.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Ball and Harp, near the Bear-Tavern, in Pye-Corner. 1684.