Pretty _Floramel_, no Tongue can ever tell, The Charms that in thee dwell; Those Soul-melting Pleasures, Shou'd the mighty _Jove_ once view, he'd be in Love, And plunder all above, To rain down his Treasure: Ah! said the Nymph in the Shepherd's Arms, Had you half so much Love as you say I have Charms; There's not a Soul, created for Man and Love, More true than _Floramel_ wou'd prove, I'd o'er the World with thee rove. Love that's truly free, had never Jealousie, But artful Love may be Both doubtful and wooing; Ah! dear Shepherdess, ne'er doubt, for you may guess, My Heart will prove no less, Than ever endless loving: Then cries the Nymph, like the Sun thou shalt be, And I, like kind Earth, will produce all to thee; Of ev'ry Flower in Love's Garden I'll Off'rings pay To my Saint. Nay then pray Take not those dear Eyes away. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ ROBERT KING. [Music] By shady Woods and purling Streams, I spend my Life in pleasing Dreams; And would not for the World be thought To change my false delightful Thought: For who, alas! can happy be, That does the Truth of all things see? _For who, alas! can happy be,_ _That does the Truth of all things see._ _A_ SONG. _Sett by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL. [Music] In _Chloris_ all soft Charms agree, Enchanting Humour pow'rful Wit; Beauty from Affectation free, And for Eternal Empire fit: Where-e'er she goes, Love waits her Eyes, The Women Envy, Men adore; Tho' did she less the Triumph Prize, She wou'd deserve the Conquest more. But Vanity so much prevails, She begs what else none can deny her; And with inviting treach'rous Smiles Gives hopes which ev'n prevent desire: Reaches at every trifling Heart, Grows warm with ev'ry glimm'ring Flame: And common Prey so deads her Dart, It scarce can wound a noble Game. I could lye Ages at her Feet, Adore her careless of my Pain; With tender Vows her Rigour meet, Despair, love on, and not complain: My Passion from all change secur'd, Favours may rise, no Frown controuls; I any Torment can endure, But hoping with a crowd of Fools. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ THO. FARMER. [Music] When busie Fame o'er all the Plain, _Velinda's_ Praises rung; And on their Oaten Pipes each Swain Her matchless Beauty sung: The Envious Nymphs were forc'd to yield She had the sweetest Face; No emulous disputes were held, But for the second place. Young _Coridon_, whose stubborn Heart No Beauty e'er could move; But smil'd at _Cupid's_ Bow and Dart, And brav'd the God of Love: Would view this Nymph, and pleas'd at first, Such silent Charms to see: With Wonder gaz'd, then sigh'd, and curs'd His Curiosity. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FISHBURNE. [Music] Why am I the only Creature, Must a ruin'd Love pursue; Other Passions yield to Nature, Mine there's nothing can subdue: Not the Glory of Possessing, Monarch wishes gave me ease, More and more the mighty Blessings Did my raging Pains encrease.