I bartered it for honours, wealth, and pleasure,
Three things which mortal men do covet most;
And 'faith, I over-sold it to the fiend:
What, one-and-twenty years, nine yet to come!
How can a soul be worth so much to devils?
O how I hug myself, to out-wit these fools of hell!
And yet a sudden damp, I know not why,
Has seized my spirits, and, like a heavy weight,
Hangs on their active springs. I want a song
To rouse me; my blood freezes.--Music there.
A SONG BETWIXT A SHEPHERD AND SHEPHERDESS.
Shepherdess.
_Tell me, Thyrsis, tell your anguish,
Why you sigh, and why you languish;
When the nymph whom you adore,
Grants the blessing
Of possessing,
What can love and I do more?_
Shepherd.
_Think it's love beyond all measure,
Makes me faint away with pleasure;
Strength of cordial may destroy.
And the blessing
Of possessing,
Kills me with excess of joy._
Shepherdess.
_Thyrsis, how can I believe you!
But confess, and I'll forgive you;
Men are false, and so are you,
Never nature
Framed a creature
To enjoy, and yet be true._
Shepherd.
_Mine's a flame beyond expiring,
Still possessing, still desiring,
Fit for love's imperial crown;
Ever shining,
And refining,
Still the more 'tis melted down.
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