Melting, Panting, oh how she moves;
Come, come, come my Dear,
Now we've nought to fear,
Mortal sure was never so blest,
Come, come, come, &c.
Pray don't trifle, my dearest forbear,
I shall die with Transports I fear;
Clasp me fast my Life,
'Twill more Pleasure give,
Both our stocks of Love let's Joyn,