A Song sung by Mrs Aliff in the Play called Tyrannick-Love or the Royal Martyr set by Mr Henry Purccell  

Ah! how sweet, Ah! how sweet, how sweet it is to Love; Ah!— Ah!—  
Ah!— how gay is young desire. And what pleasing  
pains, and what pleas●●t pains we prove, when first, when first me feel a Lovers  
fire. Pains of Love are sweeter far than all. all. all. all. all. all.  
other pleasures are. Pains of Love are sweeter far, than all, all, all, all,  
other plea— s" s are are   

Sighs that are from Lovers blown,  
Gentle more and heave the heart,  
Even the tears they shed alone.  
Like trickling balm cure the smart,  
Lovers when they lose their breath.  
Bleed away an easy death.