The True Lover's Paradice.

Cupid with his Golden Dart
Pierc'd this Youngster to the Heart;
He counts Love a pleasant pain,
And his Freedom doth disdain,
Let other Lovers pattern take
By him who'll Dye for Celia's sake,
To an Excellent New Play-House Tune: Or, Ah how Pleasant are the Charms of Love.
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AH! how pleasant are the Charms of Love,
which like Streams are always flowing?
Ah! how pleasant are the Charms of Love,
which like Streams are always flowing?
So my Passion's still a growing,
nothing but my Celia's eyes can move,
So my Passion's stil a growing,
perfect and immortal are the joys above.
When Celia did my heart surprize,
every Sinew felt a pleasure:
Each kind look from her obliging eyes
fill'd my heart with endless Treasure:
Love, O Love! is the only Treasure,
joy and blessing from the grave and wise,
Give me Love, and Life, and Pleasure,
I shall never envy what the World enjoys.
In Love I chiefly now delight,
and Doting grown in me on wonder,
The Darts which did me once affright,
and dread me far worse than Thunder,
Now are welcome unto me,
increasing still my warm desire:
Celia's Captive I must be,
'tis she and none but she, that feeds my fire.
'Tis she that breeds my hearts content,
I am like one dead without her,
If from me once she doth absent,
she carries all joys about her:
With her looks she kills or saves me,
and breeds my comfort, or my grief,
In subjection she enslaves me,
Celia thou most cunningly hast plaid the Thief.
I now take pleasure in my Chains,
in my Fetters I delight me,
Yet sure to feel uncessant pains,
if my Celia once doth slight me:
On my heart is her impression,
adding to my passion night and day,
I from Love make no digression,
Celia at thy feet my dearest Life I'll lay.
Oh was ever such a pleasant wound
as my tender heart hath pierced?
Or ever such a pleasing found:
or any in love better versed;
Freedom now shall be despised,
and Celia I am only thine;
His sences sure must be disguised
that in his heart desires to be a Libertine.
Cupid I will only thee adore,
and account it clear my Duty,
My reason I do shew therefore,
'tis I am compell'd by Beauty
Thy fairest eyes have so encharm'd me,
thy self love I must deny,
And Love's Fire's so strangely warm'd me,
Celia I must freely for thy Love can dye.
Farewell all those pleasant Ioys
wherein Free-men are delighted;
For they to me appear as Toys,
by me they ever shall be slighted:
Love's the thing that doth possess me,
his Riches fain I would enjoy,
With my Celia, Cupid bless me,
nothing then of Crosses can my Love annoy.

Printed for I. Conyers at the Black Raven in Holborn.

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