A Dialogue for an Entertainment at Court, between Damon and Sylvia.
Damon.
Ah, Sylvia! if I still pursue,
Whilst you in vain your Scorn improve;
What wonders might your Eies not do:
If they would dress themselves in Love.
Sylvia.
Shepherd, you urge my Love in vain,
For I can ne'er Reward your pain;
A Slave each Smile of mine can win,
And all my softning Darts,
When e'er I please, can bring me in
A Thousand Yeilding Hearts.
Damon.
Yet if those Slaves you treat with Cruelty,
'Tis an Inglorious Victory;
And those unhappy Swaines you so subdue,
May Learn at last to scorn, as well as you;
Your Beauty though the Gods design'd
Shou'd be Ador'd by all below;
Yet if you want a God-like Pittying Mind,
Our Adoration soon will colder grow:
'Tis Pitty makes a Deity,
Ah, Sylvia! daine to pitty me,
And I will worship none but thee.
Sylvia.
Perhaps I may your Councel take,
And Pitty, tho' not Love, for Damons sake;
Love is a Flame my Heart ne'er knew,
Nor knows how to begin to burn for you.