Cupid AND DEATH A Private Entertainment, represented WITH SCENES, VARIETY OF DANCING, AND music, BOTH vocal & instrumental.  
Written By J. S.  
LONDON, Printed for John Crook and John Playford, and to be sold at their Shops in St. Paul's churchyard and in the Inner Temple   


THE SCENE  A Forest, on the side of a Hill a fair house representing an inn or tavern, out of which cometh an Host, being a jolly sprightly old man; his Cap turned up with Crimson; his Doublet Fustian, with Jerkin and hanging sleeves, Trunk Hose of Russet, Stockings yellow, cross gartered; after him a Chamberlain. FIRST ENTRY. HO. 
Are all things in their preparation  
For my immortal guests?  Ch. 
Nothing is wanting  
That doth concern my Province sir, I am  
Your Officer above stairs. The great Chamber  
With the two wooden Monuments to sleep in  
( That weigh six load of Timber, sir) are ready.  
That for the ●●●●ce D'amour, whom we call Cupid,  
I have trimmed artificially with Roses,  
And his Mother's myrtle. But I have  
Committed sacrilege to please the other,  
Death does delight in ewe, and I have robbed  
A churchyard for him. Are you sure they'll come  
To night? I would fain see this dwarf called Cupid,  
For tother I look on him in my fancy,  
Like a starved Goblin.  Ho. 
Death. I must confess,  
Cuts not so many inches in the Say  
As our last Venison, 'tis a thin-chapped hound,  
And yet the Cormorant is ever feeding.  Ch. 
But good sir resolve me,  
Are they good spirited Guests? will they tipple  
To elevation? do they scatter metal  
Upon the waiters? will they roar, and fancy  
The Drawers, and the Fiddles, till their pockets  
Are empty as our neighbour's drone? and after  
Drop by degrees their wardrobe? and in the morning,  
When they have daylight to behold their nakedness,  
Will they with confidence amaze the streets?  
And in their shirts, to save their pickeled credits,  
Pretend a Race, and trip it like fell footmen?  
These rantings were the Badges of our Gentry,  
But all their dancing days are done I fear.  Ho. 
These were the garbs, and motions late in fashion  
With humorous mortals; but these guests are of  
No human race.  Ch. 
Pray what attendance have they?  Ho. 
Love has two  
Gentlemen, that wait on him in his Chamber,  
Of special trust, he cannot act without them.  Ch. 
Their name's sir, I beseech you?  Ho. 
Folly and Madness.  Ch. 
A pair of precious instruments,  
Sure they are well descended sir.  Ho. 
The fool  
Could ride a hundred mile in his own pedigree,  
And give as many Coats—  Ch. 
Fool's coats, there are  
Enough to wear them.  Ho. 
As he had acres in  
Eleven fat Lordships,  
And played at duck and drake with Gold, like pebbles.  Ch. 
Was this man born a fool?  Ho. 
No, but his keeping  
Company with Philosophers undid him,  
Who found him out a Mistress they called Fame,  
And made him spend half his estate in Libraries,  
Which he bestowed on colleges, took the toy  
Of building Quadrangles, kept open house,  
And fell at last most desperately in love  
With a poor dairy maid, for which he was begged—  Ch. 
A fool?  Ho. 
And leads the the Van in Cupid's Regiment.  Ch. 
What was the madman sir?  Ho. 
A Thing was born to a very fair per annum,  
And spent it all in Looking-glasses.  Ch. 
How?  
That's a project I never heard on, Looking-glasses?  
How many did he break sir in a day?  Ho. 
They broke him rather, in the right understanding,  
For Nature having given him a good face,  
The man grew wild with his own admirations,  
And spent his full means upon Flatterers,  
That represented him next to an angel.  
Thus blown up, he took confidence to court  
A Lady of noble blood, and swelling fortune;  
Within three days fell sick of the small Pox,  
And on the fourth run mad, with the conceit  
His face, when he recovered, would be like  
A country Cake, from which some Children had  
New picked the plums.  Ch. 
A brace of pretty Beagles.  Ho. 
They are here.  Ch. 
I see not Death.  Ho. 
He's the last thing we look for.  Enter Cupid, Folly, Madness; the host joins with them in a Dance. 

SONG.  
THough little be the God of Love,  
Yet his Arrows mighty are,  
And his Victories above  
What the valiant reach by War,  
Nor are his limits with the sky,  
O'er the milky way he'll fly,  
And sometimes wound a deity.  
Apollo once the Python slew,  
But a keener Arrow flew  
From Daphne's eye, and made a wound  
For which the God no balsam found;  
One smile of Venus too did more  
On Mars, than Armies could before;  
If a warm fit thus pull him down,  
How will she ague-shake him with a frown;  
Thus Love can fiery spirits tame,  
And when he please cold Rocks inflame.   Enter Death, he danceth the second entry, after which he speaks. De. 
Holla! within!  Enter Chamberlain. Ch. 
You are welcome Gentlemen; ha?  
Quarter, oh quarter, I am a friend sir,  
A movable belonging to this Tenement  
Where you are expected, Gupid is come already,  
And supped, and almost drunk, We ha' reserved  
According to order, for your palate, sir,  
The cockatrice's Eggs, the cold Toad-Pie,  
Ten dozen of Spiders and Adders tongues  
Your servant Famine, sir, bespoke.  De. 
Live, live.  Exit. Ch. 
I thank you sir; a curse upon his physiognomy;  
How was I surprised? 'twas high time to comfort me,  
I felt my life was melting downward.  
Death, oh Death.  within. Ch. 
Who's that? I do not like the voice. What art?  Enter Despair with a Halter. Des. 
A miserable thing.  Ch. 
Ay, so thou seemest;  
Haste not a name?  Des. 
My name, sir, is Despair.  Ch. 
Despair, my time's not come yet, what have I  
To do with thee? what com'st thou hither for?  Des. 
To find out Death; Life is a burden to me;  
I have pursued all Paths to find him out,  
And here i'th' forest had a glimpse on him,  
But could not reach him with my feet, or voice;  
I would fain die, but Death flies from me, sir.  Ch. 
I wonder you should travel in the Forest,  
And among so many Trees find none convenient,  
Having the tackling ready, 'bout your neck too.  
Some great affairs take up the devil's time,  
He cannot sure attend these low employments,  
he's busy 'bout Leviathans. I know not,  
there's something in't; you have not made your will sure.  Des. 
Yes sir, I carry it women, it wants nothing  
But his name, and my subscription.  Ch. 
Whose name?  Des. 
His name I mean to make my Heir.  Ch. 
who's that?  Des. 
That charitable man  
Will bring Death to me, there's a blank left for him,  
And if you please to do me, sir, the office,  
Even you shall be the man; I have professed  
An Usurerer this fifty years, and upwards,  
The widows and sad Orphans, whose estates  
I have devoured, are croaking in my Conscience.  Ch. 
And shall he be your Heir that does this feat?  
To make you acquainted with this cannibal  
You talk of?  Des. 
Oh my happiness.  Ch. 
I'll do it.  
But I believe you are sorry for your baseness,  
Your Rapines and Extortions—  Des. 
Mistake not,  
am sorry for no mischief I have done,  
That would come near Repentance, which you know  
Cures all the achings of the Soul. If I  
Could but be sorry, Death were of no use to me.  Ch. 
Keep ye of that mind, you say very right sir,  
I'll try what I can do  
With Death, to do your Conscience a courtesy,  
He's now within our house; I'll bring you pen  
And ink to write my name too, honest Father.  Des. 
Thou art my dearest child, take all my blessings.  Ch. 
Here's like to be a Fortune.  Exit. Des. 
I want strength  
To climb, I see a very pretty twig else He climbs  
And space for a most comfortable swing,  
'Tis a hard case the devil will not help  
At a dead lift. He falls.  
O my Sciatica.  
I have broke my spectacles, and both my hips  
Are out of joint, help—  Enter Chamberlain with abottle of Wine. Ch. 
Death will be with you presently, the last course  
Is now on the Table that you may not think  
The time long, I have brought you▪ ha? rise up sir.  Des. 
Alas, I have had a fall, I was endeavouring  
To do the meritorious work, and hang  
Myself, for Death me thought was long a coming,  
But my foot slipped.  Ch. 
Alas what pity 'twas?  
If I had thought your Soul had been in such  
Haste, I would have given you a lift before  
I went.  Des. 
It was my zeal.  Ch. 
Alas it seemed so,  
You might have took the River with more ease,  
The stream would have conveyed you down so gently,  
You should not feel which way your soul was going.  
But against the frights, Death might bring with him,  
I have brought you a bottle of wine. I'll begin sir.  He drinks, Des. 
Would it were poison.  Ch. 
So would not I, I thank you,  
'Tis pure blood of the Grape.  Des. 
Wine?  Ch. 
As my charge, I know you do not use  
To pay for Nectar,  
I bestow it sir.  Des. 
That's kindly said, I care not if I taste—  Ch. 
I'th' mean time please you, I'll peruse the Will,  
I can put in my own name, and make it fit  
For your subscription— what's here?— Reads.  
Ha? a thousand pound in jewels— in ready money  
Ten thousand more— Land— ha' preserve my senses.  
I'll write my name and thank Heaven afterwards.  
— Here sir, before you can subscribe, the Gentleman  
Will come and kill you to your hearts content.  Des. 
Hum! this foolish wine has warmed me, what d'ye  
Call the name on't?  Ch. 
Sack.  Des. 
Sack, my truly son—  Ch. 
Nay sir make haste, for Death will be here instantly.  Des. 
At his own leisure, I would not be troublesome▪  
Now I do know his lodging, I can come  
Another time.  Ch. 
But the will Father, you may write now—  Des. 
Deeds are not vigorous without legal witnesses;  
My Scrivener lives at the next Town, and I  
Do find my body in a disposition  
To walk a mile or two. Sack d'ye call it?  
How strangely it does alter my opinion?  Ch. 
Why? have you no mind to hang yourself?  Des. 
I thank you,  
I find no inclination.  Ch. 
Sha'not I be your Heir then?  Des. 
In the humour  
And spirit I now feel in Brain and Body,  
I may live— to see you hanged; I thank you heartily.  Ch. 
But you will have the conscience, I hope,  
To pay me for the wine, has wrought this miracle.  Des. 
Your free gift I remember, you know, I use not  
To pay for Nectar, as you call it. Yet  
I am not without purpose to be grateful,  
Some things shall be corrected in my will,  
In the mean time, if you'll accept of a Gives him the Halter.  
Small Legacy, this Hemp is at your service,  
And it shall cost you nothing, I bestow it.  
We men of money, worn which 〈…〉 and cares,  
Drink in new life, from Win●●●● costs us nothing.  
Farewell, and learn this Lesson from Despair,  
Give not your Father Sack to be his Heir.  Ch. 
Not a tear left? will's brains were in the bottle.  Exit. 

SONG.  
VIctorious men of Earth, no more  
Proclaim how wide your Empires are;  
Though you bind in every shore,  
And your triumphs reach as far  
as Night or Day,  
Yet you proud Monarchs must obey,  
And mingle with forgotten ashes, when  
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.   

Devouring Famine, Plague, and War,  
Each able to undo mankind,  
Death's servile Emissaries are,  
Nor to these alone confined,  
He hath at will  
More quaint and subtle ways to kill.  
A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,  
Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.   Enter Chamberlain. Ch: 
Ho Master, Master.  Enter host. Ho. 
What's the mátter?  Ch. 
Nothing but to ask you, whether you be  
Alive or no, or whether I am not  
My own ghost, that thus walk and haunt your house.  Ho. 
Thou lookest frighted.  Ch. 
Death and his train are gone,  
I thank Heaven he's departed; I slept not  
One wink to Night, nor durst I pray aloud,  
For fear of waking Death; but he, at Midnight,  
Calls for a Cup to quench his thirst, a Bowl  
Of Blood I gave him for a morning's draught,  
And had and Ague all the while he drank it.  
At parting, in my own defence, and hope  
To please him, I desired to kiss his hand,  
Which was so cold, o'th' sudden sir, my mouth  
Was frozen up, which as the Case stood  
Then with my Teeth, did me a benefit,  
And kept the dancing bones from leaping out,  
At length, fearing for ever to be speechless,  
I used the strength of both my hands to open  
My lips, and now feeled eve 〈…〉 I spoke  
Drop from it like an Icycls 〈…〉  Ho. 
This cold  
Fit will be over; what said Cupid?  Ch. 
He  
Was fast asleep.  Ho. 
The Boy went drunk to bed,  
Death did not wake him?  Ch. 
It was not necessary in point of reckoning.  
Death was as free as any Emperor,  
And pays all where he comes, Death quits all scores.  
I have the summa totalis in my pocket.  
But he without more ceremony left  
The house at morning twilight.  Ho. 
Ha? they knock—  
Get thee a cup of Wine to warm thy entrails. Exit Chamb.  
Though Love himself be but a water-drinker,  
His train allow themselves rich Wines. Your Fool  
And Madman is your only guests to Taverns,  
And to excess; this Licence time affords,  
When Masters pay, their servants drink like lords.  Enter Chamberlin. Ch. 
Sir, they call for you, Cupid's up, and ready.  
And looks as fresh, as if he had known no surfeit  
Of virgin's tears, for whose fair satisfaction,  
He broke his Leaden shafts, and vows hereafter  
To shoot all flames of love into their servants.  
There are some music come, to give his godship  
Good morrow, so he means to hear one Song,  
And then he takes his Progress.  Ho. 
I attend him.  Exit. Ch. 
But I have made my own revenge upon him,  
For the hard-hearted baggage that he sent me;  
And Death I have served a trick for all his huffing.  
They think not what Artillery they carry  
Along with them, I have changed their Arrows.  
How Death will fret to see his fury cozened?  
But how will Love look pale, when he shall find  
What a Mortality his Arrows make  
Among the Lovers? let the God look to't,  
I have put it past my care, and not expect  
To see them again, or should I meet with Death,  
I shall not fear him now; for Cupid, if  
Lovers must only by his Arrows fall,  
I'm safe, for Ladies I defy you all.  

SONG.  
STay Cupid, whither art thou flying?  
Pity the pale Lovers dying.  
They that honoured thee before, Will no more  
At thy Altar pay their vows.  
O let the weeping Virgins strew,  
In stead of Rose, and Myrtle boughs,  
Sad ewe, and funeral Cypress now.  
Unkind Cupid leave thy killing,  
These are all thy mother's Doves,  
Oh do not wound such noble Loves,  
And make them bleed that should be billing.    
The Scene is changed into a pleasant Garden, a Fountain in the midst of it. Walks and Arbours, delightfully expressed, in divers places, Ladies lamenting over their Lovers slain by Cupid, who is discovered flying in the air. Enter a Lover playing upon a Lute, Courting his Mistress; they dance. Enter Nature in a white Robe, a Chaplet of Flowers, a green Mantle fringed with Gold, her hair loose they start and seem troubled at her Entrance. Na. 
Fly, sly my Children, love that should preserve  
And warm your hearts, with kind and active  
Is now become your enemy, a murderer.  
This Garden that was once your entertainment  
with all the beauty of the Spring is now  
By some strange curse upon the shafts of Cupid,  
Designed to be a Grave; look everywhere  
The noble Lovers on the ground lie bleeding,  
By frantic Cupid slain; into whose wounds,  
Distracted Virgins pour their tears so fast,  
That having dreined their fountains, they present  
Their own pale Monuments; while I but relate  
This story, see, more added to the dead.  
Oh sly and save yourselves, I am your Parent  
Nature, that thus advise you to your safeties.  Enter Cupid, he strikes the Lover. 
He's come already.  Lover. 
Ha? what Winter creeps  
Into my heart?  Na. 
He faints, 'tis now too late,  
Some kinder God call back the winged Boy,  
And give him eyes to look upon his murders.  
Nature grows stiff with horror of this spectacle;  
If it be Death to love, what will it be  
When Death itself must act his cruelty?  Enter Death. 
And here he comes, what Tragedies are next?  Enter old Men and Women with Crutches. Na. 
Two aged pair, these will be fit for death,  
They can expect but a few minutes more  
To wear the heavy burden of their lives.  Death strikes them with his Arrow, they admiring one another, let fall their Crutches, and embrace. Exit Death. Na. 
Astonishment to Nature, they throw off  
All their infirmities, as young men do  
Their airy upper garments. These were the  
Effects of Cupid's Shafts; prodigious change!  
I have not patience to behold 'em longer.  Exit. They dance with Antique postures, expressing▪ rural Courtship. 

SONG.  
What will it Death advance thy name  
Upon cold Rocks to waste a flame,  
Or by mistake to throw  
Bright Torches into pits of Snow?  
Thy rage is lost,  
And thy old killing Frost▪  
With thy Arrows thou Mayst try  
To make the young or aged bleed, But indeed  
Not compel one heart to die.   

CHORUS.  
O Love! oh Death! be it your fate  
Before you both repent too late to meet and try  
Upon yourselves, your sad artillery.  
So Death may make Love kind again,  
Or cruel Death by Love be slain.   Enter six Gentlemen armed as in the field to fight three against three; To them Death, He strikes them with his Arrow, and they preparing to charge, meet one another, and embrace. They dance. 

SONG.  
CHange, oh change your fatal bows,  
Since neither knows  
The virtue of each others Darts;  
Alas, what will become of hearts  
If it prove  
A Death to Love,  
We shall find  
Death will be cruel to be kind:  
For when he shall to Armies fly,  
Where men think blood too cheap to buy  
Themselves a name,  
He reconciles them, and deprives  
The valiant men of more than lives,  
A Victory, and Fame.  
Whilst Love deceived by these cold shafts, in steed,  
Of curing wounded hearts, must kill indeed.   

CHORUS.  
Take pity Gods, some ease the world will find,  
To give young Cupid eyes, or strike Death blind.  
Death should not then have his own will.  
And Love, by seeing men bleed, leave off to kill.   Enter Chamberlin leading two Apes. Ch. 

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes,  
All you that delight to be merry come see  
My brace of Court Apes, for a need we be three;  
I have left my old trade of up and down stairs  
And now live by leading my Apes unto Fairs.  
Will you have any sport? draw your money, be quick sir,  
And then come aloft Jack, they shall show you a trick sir.   

Now▪ am I in my natural Condition,  
For I was born under a wand'ring Planet;  
I durst no longer stay with my old Master,  
For fear Cupid and Death be reconciled  
To their own Arrows, and so renew with me  
Some precious acquaintance.   Enter Death, He strikes the chamberlain. Ch. 
Oh, my heart,  
'Twas Death I fear, I am paid then with a vengeance;  
My dear Apes do not leave me, ha? come near—  
What goodly shapes they have, what lovely faces!  
Ye Twins of beauty, where were all those graces  
Obscured so long? what Cloud did interpose  
I could not see before this Lip, this Nose?  
These eyes? that do invite all hearts to woo, them,  
Brighter than Stars; Ladies are nothing to them,  
Oh let me here pay down a lover's duty;  
Who is so mad to dote on woman's beauty?  
Nature doth here her own complexion spread,  
No borrowed Ornaments of white and red;  
These cheeks were no adulterate mixtures on them,  
To make them blush as some do, fie upon them!  
Look what fair cherries on their Lips do grow?  
Black cherries, such as none of you can show,  
That boast your beauties, let me kiss your a—  Enter a satire, that strikes him on the shoulder, and takes away his Apes. 
What's that? a shot i'th' shoulder too? ha.  
What will become of me now? oh my Apes!  
The Darlings of my heart are ravished from me.  He beckons, and courts them back with passionate postures. 
No? not yet? nor yet hard-hearted Apes?  
I must despair for ever to enjoy them.  
Despair? that name puts me in mind,  He looks in his pocket, and pulls out the halter. 
'Tis here;  
Welcome dear Legacy, I see he was  
A Prophet that bestowed it; how it fits me?  
As well as if the Hangman had took measure.  
'Tis honour in some men to fight and die  
In their fair Lady's quarrel, and shall I  
Be 'fraid to hang myself in such a cause?  
Farewell my pretty Apes, when Hemp is tied  
Drop tears apace, and I am satisfied.  A Dance of the satire and Apes. Upon the sudden a solemn music is heapd, and Mercury seen descending upon a Cloud, at whose approach, the other creep in amazed. In a part of the Scene within a Bower, Nature discovered sleeping. Mer. 

Hence ye profane, and take your dwellings up  
Within some Cave, that never saw the Sun,  
Whose Beams grow pale, and sick to look upon you;  
This place be sacred to more noble Objects,  
And see where Nature tired with her Complaints  
To Heaven for Death and Cupid's Tyranny  
Upon a bank of smiling Flowers lies sleeping,  
Cares that devour the peace of other bosoms,  
Have by an over charge of sorrow wrought  
Her heart into a calm, where every sense  
Is bound up in a soft repose, and silence;  
Be her Dreams all of me. But to my embassy.   

Cupid, wheresoe'er thou be,  
The Gods lay their commands on thee,  
In pain of being banished to  
The unfrequented shades below  
At my first summons to appear.  
Cupid, Cupid.   Enter Cupid. Cup. 
I am here,  
What send the Gods by Mercury?  Mer. 

Thy shame and horror. I remove  
This mist. He unblinds him.  
Now see in every Grove  
What slaughter thou hast made, all these  
Fond Cupid were thy Votaries,  
Does not their blood make thine look pale?  
All slain by thee,' two▪ not prevail  
To urge mistakes, thy fact appears;  
Jove, and the Gods have bowed their ears  
To groaning Nature, and sent me  
From their high crystal Thrones to see  
What blood, like a dire Vapour rise,  
Doth spread his wings to blind the eyes  
Of Heaven and Day; and to declare  
Their Justice and immortal care  
Over the lower world, but stay  
Another must his fate obey.   

Death heretofore, the looked-for close  
To tedious life, the long repose  
To wearied Nature, and the gate  
That leads to man's eternal fate,  
I in the name of every God,  
Command thee from thy dark abode,  
As thou wilt fly their wrath, appear  
At my first Summon—   Enter Death. De. 
I am here.  Mer. 
Nature awake, and with thy sleep  
Shake off the heavy Chains that keep  
Thy Soul a Captive.  Nat. 
Mercury?  
Or am I still in Dreams?  Mer. 
Thy Eye  
Take truce with tears, see much abused  
Nature, whom thou hast long accused,  
Leave thy wonder, and attend  
What the Gods by Hermes send.  
But first I charge you to resign  
Your fatal Shafts.  Cup. 
Ay, these are mine.  They change. Mer. 
Cupid, the Gods do banish thee  
From every palace, thou must be  
Confined to Cottages, to poor,  
And humble Cells, Love must no more,  
Appear in Prince's Courts, their heart  
Impenetrable by thy Dart,  
And from softer influence free  
By their own wills must guided be.  Cup. 
I shall obey.  Mer. 
Death, thou Mayst still  
Exercise thy power to kill,  
With this limit, that thy rage  
Presume not henceforth to engage  
On Persons, in whose breast, divine  
Marks of Art, or Honour shine;  
Upon these, if thy malice try,  
They may bleed, but never die;  
These are not to be overcome,  
Above the force of Age or tomb..  
Is Nature pleased?  Na. 
The Gods are just.  Mer. 
To this you both submit?  C. D. 
We must.  Mer. 
Ye are dismissed.  Exeunt. Nat. 
But Mercury,  
What satisfaction shall I have  
For noble Children in the Grave  
By Cupid slain?  Mer. 
They cannot be  
Reduced to live again with thee,  
And could thy fancy entertain  
In what blessed seats they now remain,  
Thou wouldst not wish them here.  Na. 
Might I  
With some knowledge bless my eye,  
Nature would put on Youth.  Mer. 
Then see  
Their blessed condition.   
The Scene is changed into Elysium, where the grand Masquers, the slain Lovers appear in glorious Seats and Habits. Na. 
Where am I?  
The World no such Perfection yields.  Mer. 
These are the fair Elysian fields.  

SONG.  
OPen blessed Elysium Grove,  
Where an eternal Spring of Love  
Keeps each beauty fair, these shades  
No chill Dew or Frost invades;  
Look how the Flowers, and every Tree  
Pregnant with Ambrosia be;  
Near banks of Violet Springs appear,  
Weeping out Nectar every tear;  
While the once harmonious spheres,  
( Turned all to ears)  
Now listen to the Birds, whose choir  
Sing every charming Accent higher.   

CHORUS.  
If this place be not Heaven, one thought can make it,  
And Gods by their own wonder led, mistake it.   Na. 
Oh, who shall guide me hence? old nature's sight  
Grows feeble at the brightness of this glory.  Mer. 
I will be nature's conduct.  Na. 
Mercury— be ever honoured.  Exeunt. The Grand Dance. Enter Mercury. Mer. 

Return, return you happy men  
To your own blessed Shades again,  
Lest staying long, some new desire  
In your calm bosoms raise a fire;  
Here are some Eyes, whose every beam  
May your wand'ring hearts inflame,  
And make you forfeit your cool Groves,  
By being false to your first Loves.   

Like a Perfuming gale o'er Flowers,  
Now glide again to your own Bowers.   The Curtain falls.  
FINIS.