Reading ends in melancholy, Wine breeds vices and diseases, Wealth is but care, and love but folly, Only friendship truly pleases. My wealth, my books, my flask, my Molly,...
Touch the lyre, touch every string; Touch it, Orpheus; I will sing A song which shall immortal be, Since she I sing's a deity; A Leonora, whose bless'd birth Has no relation to this earth.
Haste, my Nannette, My lovely maid, Haste to the bower Thy swain has made. For thee alone I made the bower, And strew'd the couch With many a flower. None but my sheep...
Whilst others proclaim This nymph or that swain, Dearest Nelly the lovely I'll sing: She shall grace every verse, I'll her beauties rehearse, Which lovers can't think an ill thing. ...
Let perjured fair Amynta know What for her sake I undergo; Tell her, for her how I sustain A lingering fever's wasting pain; Tell her the torments I endure, Which only, only she can cure. ...