He. Time and Place you see conspire,
With tender Wishes, fierce Desire;
See the willing Victim stands
To be offer’d by your Hands:
Ah! Let me on Love’s Altars lying,
Clasp my Goddess whilst I’m dying.
She. Oh Lord! what hard words, and strange things d’ye say;
Your Eyes [too] seem closing, and just dying away:
Ah! pray what d’ye want? Explain but your mind,
Which did I but know, perhaps I’d be kind.