The Cure. A Dialogue.

The Cure.

A Dialogue.

Claius

COme Coridon, Sit by me gentle Swain; Thy Cheek is pale: Speak Shepheard, where's thy Pain?

Cor.

Say, Claius Priest of our great Pan (for you Of Humane Science th'utmost Limits know) Is Physicks pow'r to th' Bodies use confin'd, Have you no Medicine for a troubled Mind?

Clai.

Yes, for as Balsoms raging Pains appease Sage Councells to distemper'd Souls give ease, Ev'n Love is no incurable Disease. Ha Swain! What meant that Suddain blush and start? Have I guest right, and toucht the tender Part?

Cor.

I wou'd Conceal't, but have not learnt to Feign — You've guest, and while you Nam'd it, Wakt my Pain.

Clai.

T'effect the Cure we'll take the Safest course, And Trace the Malady to its first Scource: Say then, what Female Gims and Baits were laid; Or was your fond Soul by its self betray'd?

Cor.

When from Severer Business I withdrew, Twixt Love and Me a fatall Friendship grew: Such was my Ignorance and his Craft, my Brest Admitted the Impostor for its Guest; With my Hearts Blood our Covenant we seal'd, A Solemn Contract nere to be repeal'd: Then all Delights young Sorcerers Enjoy, A While did my deluded Soul employ, Love fed my waking Thoughts with glorious Theams, And blest my Slumbers with transporting Dreams. When at an awfull Distance I survey'd My Nymph, Transported, to my self I said, Ah Charming Fair! Oh Excellence Divine! Whilst Love wou'd Whispering Answer — Swaine She's Thine.

Clai.

Thus, Whilst from far our high-plac't Hopes appear, (The Gulfs between Conceal'd) we deem them Neer.

Cori.

Yet boldly through all Obstacles I prest.

Clai.

Why therefore Shepheard are you not possest?

Cori.

Force not th' Unwilling secret from my Brest, There let it Lurk in Sympathizing Night, And never roam from its dark Cell to Fright. Let it suffice that on a Barren Soil I've Lost of many years th' Expence and Toil.

Clai.

Do's the false Nymph — The Wages you so dearly Earn'd refuse?

Cori.

My self I cannot, will not her Accuse. But my Releif must from your Councells Rise: Examine not good Claius, but Advise; Bring your best Art (for 'twill your best require) T'unspell my soul from Love's tormenting Fire.

Clai.

Call Reason to your Aid, you'l put to flight The Foe not to be quell'd by other Might. Of happiest Love's Delights Sum up th' Account, And Learn to what the Totall will amount; Then in the Ballance Love's Vexations Weigh, How certain These, and how uncertain They. Sordid his joyes, and of delight so nice, That Female Coyness only gives them Price. Short-liv'd the warmest Amorist's Desires, At Kindling Hymen's, oft Love's Torch expires. There are that from Large Dow'rs derive their Flame And These in full Career pursue their Game; They wreck their Witts, the Golden Prize to gain, But dream not how that Gold is wrought into a Chain.

Cor.

When late Love's false suggestions I Obey'd, 'Twas in Pursuit of Happiness I strayd. My credulous Youth had seen no brighter Flame, And Streight Concluded that from Heaven it came. In Errour's Night Love's Fire shone bright and gay, But at th' approach of Reasons conqu'ring Ray The Meteor's lost in the full Blaze of Day.

Clai.

Mistake not Swain, I wou'd not Quench your Flame, But slip your Passion at a Nobler Game. Wave Sensual joys, and with a Flame refind Court those Diviner Pleasures of the Mind. To sacred Virtue next make your Address; Confess you've no Regard of Happiness, Or Live henceforth of Virtue's service proud, The brightest Beauty and the best endow'd. She'll guard your Youth from Passions banefull Rage, With peacefull Thoughts divert the Pains of Age. But then in Largest Streams her Blessings Flow, When Love grown Bankrupt can no more bestow. When rig'rous Death shall check your Circling Blood, And Life die stifled in the Frozen Flood, Your pensive Nymph at large may tell her Grief, But to your ravisht Soul give no Relief; 'Twill lurk a pensive Ghost in Caves all day, And to it's Reliques Mid-night Visits pay. But pious Souls by Death are Gainers made, By Virtue to th' Elysian Seats convey'd; There Mirth and Peace, and softest Transports reign, Delights refind from all Allays of Pain; The Gratefull Soil untill'd her Harvest yields; Unclouded Skies and ever-verdant Fields. There Aemulation no Dissention gives, For Happy Each in others Blisses Lives. No Cares o'th' Future their free Thoughts Employ, The Business of the Place is to Enjoy. That Swain is most Industrious held that best Improves his Bliss, exceeds in Joyes the Rest. If Love can Bless beyond these Heights, Return To dragg his Chain, and in his Feavour Burn; Take Leave of blissfull Immortalitie, Chide my impert'nent Zeal to set you Free, And Court the Frowns of some imperious She.

Cor.

Destroy not thus your gen'rous Courtesies By an unfriendly and unjust Surmize; Heav'n sends me Freedome, and to sell the Pledge, Must Brand me with the foulest Sacriledge. 'Gainst Love and Beauty I'll maintain the Fort And fix a Guard of Virtues in my Heart.

Clai.

If Beauty's Force too rashly you despise, 'Tis Odds but you are ruin'd by Surprize: Wou'd you live free from Female Tyranny? Nere Parly with the Tempting Sex, but Fly. Their very Tears are Fewell to Desire, And with their Sighs They'l Fan th'expiring Fire. Their Mirth and Grief, their kindness and Disdain, Are fatall All, and Work Poor Shepheards Pain! Nature and Art Conspire to Arm the Fair; For in the Charming, All things Charming are; Their Glances Darts, and ev'ry Curl a Snare.