XXIV. Yet, to compofe this midnight noife, (The rage, Upon yon' toilet lie my keys. XXV. Her keys he takes; her doors unlocks; Through wardrobe and through closet bounces ; Peeps into every chest and box ; Turns all her furbeloes and flounces. XXVI. But Dove, depend on't, finds he none; And now the maiden, bolder grown, I marvel much, fhe fmiling faid, No, traitor, angry Love replies, XXIX. breaft; Search then, the faid, put in your hand, And Cynthia, dear protectrefs, guard me: As guilty I, or free, may ftand, Do thou or punish or reward me. XVIII. Hold up your head: hold up your hand : XIX. For that, by fecret malice ftirr'd, Her blushing face the lovely maid Rais'd just above the milk-white sheet; Nor glows fo red, nor breathes so sweet, Are you not he whom virgins fear, Then what have I, good fir, to fay, Diana chaste, and Hebe sweet, I would not give my Paroquet XXIV. Yet, XXIV. Yet, to compofe this midnight noife, XXV. Her keys he takes; her doors unlocks ; Turns all her furbeloes and flounces. XXVI. But Dove, depend on't, finds he none; And now the maiden, bolder grown, I marvel much, fhe fmiling faid, Or, may be, in the tea-pot drown'd? No, traitor, angry Love replies, He's hid fomewhere about your breaft; A place nor god nor man denies, For Venus' Dove the proper neft. Search then, the faid, put in your hand, And Cynthia, dear protectrefs, guard me: As guilty I, or free, may ftand, Do thou or punish or reward me. .XXX. But ah! what maid to Love can truft? And in a moment forc'd it lower. O, whither do those fingers rove, O Venus! I fhall find thy Dove, Says he; for fure I touch his featlier. A LOVER'S ANGER. As Cloe came into the room t' other day, I peevish began; where fo long could you stay? In your life-time you never regarded your hour : You promis'd at two; and (pray look, child) 'tis four. A lady's watch needs neither figures nor wheels; 'Tis enough, that 'tis loaded with baubles and feals. A fo heedlefs no mortal can bear temper Thus far I went on with a refolute air.. Lord bless me! said she; let a body but speak! On the left fide my breast, what a mark it has made MERCURY |