SONG.

TEll me no more you love; in vain,
Fair Celia, You this passion feign;
Can they pretend to love, who do
Refuse what Love perswades them to;
Who once has felt his active flame,
Dull Laws of Honour will disdain;
You wou'd be thought his Slave, and yet
You will not to his pow'r submit.
More cruel then those Beauties are,
Whose coyness wounds us to despair;
For all the kindness which you shew,
Each smile and kiss which you bestow,
Are like those cordials which we give
To dying men, to make them live▪
And languish out an hour in pain;
Be kinder, Ceiia, or disdain.