Grief is infectious, and the air
Inflam'd with sighs will blast the fair.
Then stop your ears when lovers cry!
Lest yourself weep when no soft eye
Shall with a sorrowing tear repay
That pity which you cast away.

Young men, fly, when Beauty darts
Amorous glances at your hearts!
The fixed mark gives the shooter aim;
And ladies' looks have power to maim,
Now 'twixt their lips, now in their eyes,
Wrapp'd in a smile or kiss, Love lies.-
Then fly betimes; for only they
Conquer Love that run away.

DIALOGUE.

[From a MS. in the possession of Mr Malone.]

Q. TELL me, Utrechia,' (since my fate,
And thy more powerful form decrees
My heart an immolation at thy shrine,
Where I am only 2 to incline)

How I must love, and at what rate;

By what despairs, 3 and what degrees,

I may* my hopes enlarge, and my desires confine?

"Eutresia."

3" And by what steps."

2 it is ever."

4"shall."

A. First, when thy flames begin,

See they burn all within;

And so, as lookers-on may not descry

I

Smoke in a sigh, or sparkles in an eye.

I would have had my love a good while there,
Ere thine own heart had been 3 aware:

And I myself would choose to know it,
First, by thy care and cunning not to show it."

Q. When

4

my love is, your own way, thus betray'd,

Must it still be 5 afraid?

6

May it not be sharp-sighted then, as well,

And see you know that which it durst not tell,

And from 9 that knowledge, hope *° it may

Tell itself a louder way ?

A. Let it alone a while:
And 13 so, thou may'st beguile
My heart, perhaps, 14 to a consent
Long ere it meant.

For whilst I dare not disapprove,

Lest Is betray a knowledge of thy love,

7" know thou know'st." 8" dares."

9" by."

10 ❝ find."

12 ❝ me."

I❝ itself o'er."

13" For."

14" perhaps" is wanting. 15" that.”

I shall be so accustom'd to allow,

That I shall scarce know how

To be displeas'd when thou shalt it avow.”

Q. When, by love's powerful silent sympathy,
Our souls are got thus nigh,

And that, by one another seen,

They need 3 no breath to go between,

Though in the main agreement of our breasts
Only our hearts subscribe as interests;
Yet, it will 5 need

6

Our tongues' sign too, as witness to the deed.

A. Speak then: but when you whisper out the tale Of what

you

ail,

Let it be so disorder'd, that I may

Guess only thence what you would say.

Then, to be able to speak sense

Were an offence:

And, 'twill thy passion tell the subtlest way,

Not to know what to say."

I ❝ not." 3" There needs." 5" Will it not." 7" tell."

2" powerful secret."

4" Only" is wanting.

6" The tongue's."

8" to be able" wanting.

N. B. The variations in the notes are from a copy printed in the works of Sir R. Fanshaw, who translated this dialogue into Latin hexameters.

WILLIAM STRODE

Was born about 1600, and died in 1644. He became D. D. and canon of Christ Church, having served the offices of proctor and public orator to the University, and had the reputation of being a good preacher, an exquisite speaker, and au eminent poet.

The following specimens are extracted from a miscellany called " Wit restored," 1658, 12mo.

Answer to "The Lover's Melancholy."

[Vide p. 63 of this volume.]

RETURN, my joys! and hither bring
A tongue not made to speak, but sing,
A jolly spleen, an inward feast,
A causeless laugh without a jest,
A face which gladness doth anoint,
An arm, for joy, flung out of joint,
A spriteful gait that leaves no print,
And makes a feather of a flint,
A heart that's lighter than the air,
An eye still dancing in its sphere,

Strong mirth which nothing shall control, A body nimbler than a soul,

Free wandering thoughts, not tied to muse, Which, thinking all things, nothing choose, Which, ere we see them come, are gone ;— These life itself doth feed upon.

Then take no care but only to be jolly:
To be more wretched than we must, is folly.

SONG.

In Commendation of Music.

WHEN whispering strains do softly steal With creeping passion through the heart,

And when at every touch we feel

Our pulses beat, and bear a part;
When threads can make
A heart-string quake ;-
Philosophy

Can scarce deny,

The soul consists of harmony.