Cupid's Master-Piece: OR, Long Wisht for Comes at Last: Or, The happy Meeting of William and Mary.
A pretty Damsel of Sixteen 'tis said,
Was Courted; but of Love she was afraid:
She slights sweet
William (so she call'd his Name)
He took her first Repulse; then she with shame,
Laments her scornful Folly: Now she Loves,
And languishes with grief, till
Cupid moves
Her
William once again for to be kind;
Which soon he did perform: Now both are joyn'd
In Love's strict Mutual Bands, and Marryed,
Let none, though once deny'd, in Love despair.
Tune of, Caelia's
my Foe.
GOd
Cupid's unkind
Since my Soul he confin'd,
For to Love
one doth prove
So unconstant in Mind:
He has wounded my heart
With an amorous Dart:
But my Dear
will not hear,
Though I tell him my smart.
Once 'twas he did smile,
Which my Heart did beguile;
But then
all young Men
I did scorne for a while:
But my Mind's alter'd now,
And by
Cupid I vow,
I do with
him to Kiss,
If I could but tell how.
What a madness it is
To refuse proffer'd Bliss:
'Tis a grace
to Embrace,
When kind Love bids us Kiss.
My Desires are too late
And I curse my hard Fate,
Who first did
me forbid.
For to make him my Mate
SWeet
William was he
Who at first tempted me:
His Name
I can't blame,
Though so cruel he be:
But now I do fear,
My Complaints he won't hear,
Though I'm crying,
and dying,
Each Hour ith' Year.
But if yet I could guess
Any Hopes of Redress,
I would pray
Night and Day,
For a better Success,
If my Love I make known,
And he should it dis-own,
Then with Grief
past Relief,
I were ever undone,
So sweet is his Voyce,
That it makes me rejoyce
For to hear;
him I fear,
Will not make me his Choice.
He's so proper and tall,
And so handsom withall,
That his sight
does delight,
And my Senses enthral.
When my
Billy doth sing,
He doth make the Groves ring;
'Twould invite
to delight,
Each sensible thing:
Though my words are in vain,
Yet till Death I'le remain
His own,
though ne'r known
To be wed by my Swain.
Thus with Sighs she did End:
But kind Love was her Friend.
Now at last,
he made hast,
And his Bow he did bend:
He peirc'd
William's Brest,
That he could take no rest;
And Love
did him move,
Which he quickly exprest.
To the Damsel he goes
VVho did languish in woes,
And with Arms
full of Charms
He Embraces his Spouse.
He did her take Heart:
For God
Cupid by Art,
Did enjoyne me,
and confine me,
Never from you to part.
This made her Heart glad,
Which before was so sad:
They were Marry'd,
and ne'r tarry'd,
Such Desires they had
Let none then despair,
Though tormented they are:
For be sure,
Love that's pure,
Love's Pleasures shall share.
FINIS.
London, Printed for VV. Thackeray, T. Passenger, and VV. Whitwood.