Loves, Triumph over Bashfulness OR, The Pleas of HONOUR and CHASTITY overruled.  
Being a pleasant New Play-Song by way of Dialogue between Celia and Strephon.  

When Love takes up his Arms, all force must yield,  
He will be Victor, his must be the Field:  
Vain is Resistance no force could e'er withstand  
The swift-winged shofts sent by his nimble hand:  
Celia brings Honour, Chastity, and fame,  
Not dreaming but they can resist the same;  
But that they were not proof the Nymph soon found,  
For through them all, Love did her bosom wound.   
To a pleasant new Playhouse Tune.  
 
 
 
 

ON the Banks of a River, close under a shade,  
young Celia and Strephon one evening were lapped,  
The youth pleaded strongly for the fruits of his Love  
But Honour had won her his flames to reprove:  
She cried where's the lustre when clouds shade the Sun  
Or what is Rich Nectar, the taste being gone,  
Amongst flowers on the stalk, sweetest odours do dwell,  
The Rose being gathered, it looseth its smell.   Strephon. 
My dearest of Nymphs the brisk Shepherd replied,  
If e'er thou wouldst argue, begin on Loves-side:  
In matters of State, let all reason be shown.  
But Love is a power will be ruled by his own:  
Nor need the coy Lasses be counted so rare,  
For scandal can't touch the chaste and the Fair:  
Most scarce are the joys Loves Alimbeck does fill,  
And Roses are sweetest when brought to the Still.  Celia. 
But alas cried the Nymph, when my Beauty is gone,  
Love will take wing and will leave us to moan;  
But Honour's more lasting where virtue does reign,  
It finds no decay, but for aye will remain:  
And freshly will blossom, although in the Grave,  
When Love is forgotten it trophies will have,  
O think of Diana the Hunters chafed Queen,  
How she for her virtue renowned hath been,  Strephon. 
No more of these fancies than Strephon replied,  
But let this cool shade your coy blushes now hide,  
For what were such creatures by Heaven fir●● made,  
Or why was Love sent this great world to invade;  
It's power be so weak to fond Virtue to yield,  
And such a bright beauty could chase him the Field:  
No more of this coyness, my Celia no more,  
Let's riot in pleasures and never give o'er.  Celia. 
The Nymph with such blushes that ushers the morn,  
Turned from him her face, whilst fair tresses adorn  
Her Ivory white shoulders, and faintly thus said  
Forbear now to tempt thus a harmless young Maid:  
To such fond enjoyments as virtue will maim  
'Tis pleasures more lasting sweet Strephon I aim,  
For lost Virgin honour there's nought can repair,  
And she that doth lose it no longer is Fair.  Strephon. 
Yet sighing, the Shepherd Suit did renew,  
And implored that since she her kind heart did subdue  
She'd own the poor victim her eyes did obtain,  
And no longer require his kind love with disdain:  
But whilst the young Kids & the lams they did play  
And the bleating flocks o'er the plains they did stray:  
Upon the blue bed of sweet Violets that she,  
Would yield, yield him her, and for ever be free.  Celia. 
Must I break all my vows, the fair nymph did return,  
With eyes that like Phoebus at noonday did burn,  
Oh what will the World of poor Celia then say,  
If she should the laws of Love's Archer obey:  
Who his Bow and his Shafts so oft have difyis'  
And still smiled at those o'er whom love tyrannised  
But why should I name it, I may do so still,  
With that a soft sigh her fair bosom did fill.  Strephon. 
Which Strephon well noting full soon espies  
A yielding to love in bright Celia's bright eyes,  
And though coily she seems his suit togain-say,  
Yet he found by her glances she soon would obey;  
When he in his arms the fair nymph did embrace,  
And cried my sweet Celia, O turn not thy face:  
For the world is benighted, the Sun once away,  
And your eyes turned from me no longer 'tis day.  Celia. 
Then sighing and blushing they long time sat mute,  
No longer being able against love to dispute:  
O honour she cried must I bid thee adieu;  
and what I have bread of love must I prove true;  
But alas should I yield now dear Strephon, and there  
Her sighs and her blushes the rest did declare,  
Which the Shepherd to smother embraced with a kiss  
And after some struggling she yielded to bliss.  

And under the Shade by a murmuring Spring,  
Loves sweets they enjoyed, whilst birds they do Sing  
And warble their Ditties the Lovers to cheer,  
Who offered to Venus without any fear:  
No more she her honour opposes to love,  
But under each Shade does the pleasure approve;  
Though blushing seems coy, yet she burns with desire  
And in her soft breast she does cherish Love's Fire.