A Song. Sett by Mr. Henry Purcell.
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IN Chloris all soft Charms agree,
Enchanting Humour pow’rful Wit;
Beauty from Affectation free,
And for Eternal Empire fit:
Where-e’er she goes, Love waits her Eyes,
The Women Envy, Men adore;
Tho’ did she less the Triumph Prize,
She wou’d deserve the Conquest more.
But Vanity so much prevails,
She begs what else none can deny her;
And with inviting treach’rous Smiles
Gives hopes which ev’n prevent desire:
Reaches at every trifling Heart,
Grows warm with ev’ry glimm’ring Flame:
And common Prey so deads her Dart,
It scarce can wound a noble Game.
I could lye Ages at her Feet,
Adore her careless of my Pain;
With tender Vows her Rigour meet,
Despair, love on, and not complain:
My Passion from all change secur’d,
Favours may rise, no Frown controuls;
I any Torment can endure,
But hoping with a crowd of Fools.
A Song. Set by Mr. Tho. Farmer.
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