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But when thou Dy't, thy Treasure dies,

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And thou canst leave no Legacies.

What Madness is it then to fpare,

When we want power to make an Heir?
Live Chloris then at the full rate,

Of thy great Beauty; and fince Fate

To Love, and Youth, is fo fevere,
to fevere,
Enjoy 'em freely while th'art here.
Some caution yet I'de have thee use,
When e're thou doft a Servant chufe.
We are not all for Lovers fit,

No more than Arms or Arts or Wit.
For Wisdom fome refpected are,
Some we fee pow'rful at the Bar;
Some for Preferment wafte their time,
And the fteep Hill of Honour climb;
Others of Love their business make,
In Love their whole Diversion take.
Take one of thofe, for in one Breaft
Two Paffions live but ill at reft:

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And even, of them, I'd have thee fly
All that take flame at every Eye.
All those that light and faithless are,
All that dare more than think thee fair.
Take one of Love who nothing fays,
And yet whom every word betrays.
Love in the Cradle pretty fhews,
And when't can speak, unruly grows.

T

THE

ICTURE.

In Imitation of

ACREON'S BATHILLUS.

By the Right Honourable the ARQUIS of NORMANEY.

Hou Flatterer of all the Fair,
Come, with all your skill, and care,

me fuch a Shape, and Face,

our Flatt'ry would difgrace.

not that she would appear, well for you she is not here; e can you with safety see er Charms defcrib'd by me,

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Who, alas, have found too well;

What a power does in them dwell;
I, alas, the danger know,

I, alas, have felt the Blow

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Mourn, as loft, my former Days,

That did not fing of Celia's praife;
And those few that are behind
I fhall blefs'd or wretched find,

#OAM

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With her tempting Eyes begin,

Eyes that might draw Angels in

To a fecond fweeter fin.

Oh, those wanton rowling Eyes!

At each glance a Lover dies:

Make them bright, yet make them willing,
Let them look both kind and killing.

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Next, draw her Forhead, then her Nose,

And Lips juft opening, which disclose

Teeth

Teeth fo white, and Breath fo fweet,

So much Beauty, so much Wit,

To our very Soul they ftrike,

All our Senfes pleas'd alike;

But fo pure a white and red

Never never can be faid;

What are words in fuch a cafe?

!

What is paint to fuch a Face?

How should either Art avail us?

Fancy here it felf will fail us.

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Next to her, the Matchless She,

We fhall wonder most at Thee.

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