Beauty's Triumph:  
OR, The Joys of Faithful Lovers made complete;  
Showing the amorous Address of a young Gallant to a fair Virgin, whose consent, notwithstanding her many coy objections, & concluded the happy Marriage, under the feigned names of Amintor and Silua, Being a most pleasant and delightful New Playhouse SONG.  

All that's called Beauty, for Man's use was made,  
Why then should he of Females be afraid?  
Encounter them but brisk, you'll find them yield,  
'Tis seldom known they long do keep the Field;  
But if you fear to court faith, e'en despair;  
For Cowards never Cupid's Plunder share.   
To a New Playhouse Tune; Or, The Reward of Loyalty, etc.  
 
 

A Pox upon this needless Scorn,  
Sylva for shame the Cheat give o'er;  
The end to which the fair are Born,  
is not to keep their Charms in store:  
But lavishly dispose in haste  
of joys, which only youth improve;  
joys which decay when Beauty's past▪  
and who when Beauty's passed, will love?   

When age those Glories shall deface,  
revenging all the cold disdain;  
And Sylva shall neglected pass  
by every one admiring Swain;  
And we can only pity pay,  
when you in Love too late shall burn;  
If Love increase, and Youth decay,  
ah! Sylva, who will make return?   
 
 

Then haste my Sylva to the Grove,  
where all the sweets of May conspire  
To teach us every art of Love,  
and raise our charms and pleasures higher:  
Whilst in each others arms we lie,  
closely embraced on banks of flowers,  
The duller World whilst we defy,  
Years shall be minutes, ages hours.   Sylva. 

Forbear Amintor to deceive,  
a harmless Nymph thus to betray;  
Could you of Honour me bereave,  
your passions soon would melt away:  
Oh blame not Virgins that are coy,  
but that your constancies we prove;  
For if our trust you once enjoy,  
farewell for ever constant Love.   

Our Beauty's like a new blown Rose,  
when sullied you will cast away;  
And seek out where a fresh one grows,  
no more will you our Charms obey.  
I blush to think should I be kind,  
how soon I should my fault Repent;  
When you unconstant as the Wind,  
would all my newborn joys prevent.   

And for some fairer leave my Love,  
sly my embraces with disdain;  
Oh than my sighs would nothing move,  
I might regardless then complain,  
Then cease your suit Amintor now,  
say not I'm coy nor yet unkind;  
When Man so often breaks his Vow,  
and is to change so oft inclined.   Amintor. 

Thou brightest form that I adore,  
fairest of Creatures say not so;  
My Love shall last for evermore,  
and endless passion still shall flow:  
No Beauty shall divide my Love,  
to thee it shall be ever sure;  
Then hast we to this pleasant Grove,  
to try the Charms that e'er endure.   Sylva. 

Could I poor harmless Nymph but trust  
you'd constant prove, than could I raise  
My passion high, and 'twas but just,  
but then perhaps your Love decays:  
While I am like a Phoenix fried,  
in scorchings of self-kindled flame;  
Yet were I once in Wedlock tied,  
methinks I'd blush away my stain.   Amintor. 

A thousand blessings on my Love,  
those Sacred Bands shall tie us fast;  
Come let it be, and then we'll prove  
those transports that will ever last.  
Sylva. I yield, I yield, tho' blushing still,  
methinks I dread, but let's preceded;  
For once Love conquer shall my will,  
Venus our Nuptials are decreed.   Amintor. 

And Venus witness now we haste  
to pay our Offerings at thy shrine;  
No more will we Loves moment's waste,  
nor lose a pleasure that's Divine:  
But in each Grove we'll sport and play,  
and feed our Flocks, while the sweet strain  
Of Philomelia close the Day,  
and calls us to our home again.   
Finis.   

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden- Ball, in West-smithfield.