The ARGUMENT.

Acontius, in the Temple of Diana at Delos, (famous for the Refort of the most Beautiful Virgins of all Greece) fell in Love with Cydippe, a Lady of Quality much above his own; not daring therefore to Court her openly, be found this Device to obtain her; he writes upon the faireft Apple that could be procur'd a couple of Verfes to this effect,

"I fwear by Chafte Diana, I will be

"In Sacred Wedlock ever join'd to thee,

and throws it at the Feet of the young Lady: She fuspecting not the Deceit takes it up, and reads it, and therein promifes her felf in Marriage to Acontius; there being a Law there in Force, that whatever any Perfon fhould Swear in the Temple of Diana of Delos, fhould ftand good, and be inviolably obferv'd. But her Father not knowing what had past, and having not long after promised her to another, just as the Solemnities of Marriage were to be perform'd, she was taken with a fudden and violent Fever, which Acontius endeavours to perfuade her was fent from Diana, as a Punishment of the Breach of the Vow made in her Prefence. And this with the rest of the Arguments, which on fuch an

Occafion

Occafion would occur to a Lover, is the Subject of the following Epifle.

R

Ead boldly this; here you shall swear no more,

For that's enough which you have fworn before. Read it; fo may that violent Disease,

Which thy dear Body, but my Soul doth seize,
Forgets its too-long practis'd Cruelty,
And Health to you reftore, and you to me.
Why do you blush? for blush you do, I fear,
As when you firft did in the Temple fwear.
Truth to your plighted Faith is all I claim :
And Truth can never be the Caufe of Shame.
Shame lives with Guilt, but you your Virtue prove
In fav'ring mine, for mine's a Hufband's Love.
Ah! to your felf, thofe binding Words repeat,
That once your wifhing Eyes ev'n long'd to meet,
When th' Apple brought 'em dancing to your Feet.
There you will find the folemn Vow you made,
Which, if your Health, or mine, can ought persuade,
You to perform should rather mindful be,
Than great Diana to revenge on thee.
My Fears for you increase with my Defire,
And Hope blows that already raging Fire.
For Hope you gave; nor can you this deny,
For the great Goddess of the Fane was by;

She was,
and heard, and from her hallow'd Shrine
A fudden kind aufpicious Light did shine;
Her Statue feem'd to nod its awful Head,
And give its glad Confent to what you faid.

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Now,

mine?

Now, if you please, accuse my profp'rous Cheat,
Yet ftill confefs 'twas Love that taught me it.
In that Deceit what did I elfe design,
But with your own Confent to make you
What you my Crime, I call my Innocence,
Since Loving you has been my fole Offence.
Nor Nature gave me, nor has Practice taught
The Nets with which young Virgins Hearts are caught.
You my Accufer taught me to deceive,

And Love, with you, did his Affiftance give;
For Love stood by, and smiling bad me write
The cunning Words he did himself indite :
Again, you fee I write by his Command,
He guides my Pen, and rules my willing Hand;
Again, fuch kind, fuch loving Words I fend,
As makes me fear that 1 again offend.
Yet if my Love's my Crime, I must confefs
Great is my Guilt, but never fhall be less;
Oh that I thus might ever guilty prove!
In finding out new Paths to reach thy Love.
A thousand Ways to that fteep Mountain lead,
Tho' hard to find, and difficult to tread.

All these will I find out, and break through all,
For which, my Flames compar'd, the Danger's small.
The Gods alone know what the End will be;
Yet if we Mortals any thing foresee,

One way or other you must yield to me.

If all my Arts fhould fail, to Arms I'll fly,

And fnatch by Force what you my Prayers deny :
I all those Heroes mighty Acts applaud,
Who first have led me this illuftrious Road.

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I

I too

-but hold, Death the Reward will be; Death be it then

For to lose you is more than Death to me.
Were you lefs Fair, I'd ufe the vulgar Way

Of tedious Courtship, and of dull Delay:

But thy bright Form kindles more eager Fires,
And something wond'rous, as it felf, inspires;
Thofe Eyes that all the Heav'nly Lights out-fhine,
(Which Oh! may'st thou behold, and love in mine)
Those fnowy Arms, which on my Neck fhould fall;
If you the Vows you made, regard at all;
That modeft Sweetness, and becoming Grace,
That paints with living Red your blushing Face;
Thofe Feet, with which they only can compare
That through the Silver Flood bright Thetis bear;
Do all confpire my Madness to excite,
With all the Reft that is deny'd to Sight.
Which could I praise alike, I then were blest,
And all the Storms of my vex'd Soul at reft.
No wonder then if with fuch Beauty fir'd,
I of your Love the facred Pledge defir'd.
Rage now, and be as angry as you will,
Your very Frowns all other Smiles excel;
But give me leave that Anger to appease
By my Submiffion, that my Love did raife.
Your Pardon proftrate at your Feet I'll crave,
The humble Pofture of your guilty Slave.
With falling Tears your fiery Rage I'll cool,
And lay the rifing Tempeft of your Soul.

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Why

Why in my Abfence are you thus fevere?
Summon'd at your Tribunal to appear,
For all my Crimes, I'd gladly fuffer there,
With Pride whatever you inflict receive,

And love the Wounds those Hands vouchsafe to give,
Your Fetters too-But they alas are vain,

For Love has bound me, and I hug my Chain.
Your hardest Laws with Patience I'll obey,
"Till you your felf at last relent, and say,
When all my Suff'rings you with Pity fee,
He that can love fo well, is worthy me.
But if all this should unsuccessful prove,
Diana claims for me your promis'd Love.
O may my Fears be falfe! yet fhe delights
In juft Revenge of her abused Rites
I dread to hide, what yet to speak I dread,
Left you should think that for my felf I plead.
Yet out it must, 'Tis this, 'Tis furely this,
That is the Fuel to your hot Disease;

When waiting Hymen at your Porch attends,
Her fatal Meffenger the Goddess sends;
And when you would to his kind Call confent,
This Fever does your Perjury prevent.
Forbear, forbear thus to provoke her Rage,
Which you fo eafily may yet affwage.
Forbear to make that lovely charming Face
The Prey to ev'ry envious Disease:
Preferve thofe Looks to be enjoy'd by me,
Which none fhou'd ever but with Wonder fee:
Let that fresh Colour to your Cheeks return,
Whose blooming Flame did all Beholders burn.

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But