The Languishing LOVER Cured, And the Coy LADY by Cupid Converted.  
In a Passionate Discourse of Love, between Florio, Cupid, and Philida.  
To the Tune of, Hang sorrow cast away Care.  
 
 

What a sorry Life I live,  
since that Love hath found me,  
And what Treasures would I give,  
that Cupid had not bound me:  
For his Dart hath pierced my Heart,  
I cannot endure it,  
And inflicted so much smart,  
That no Herb can cure it.   

Surely Cupid is not blind.  
but hath Eyes to see with,  
And his Dart hath proved unkind,  
that he wounded me with;  
For it did all Comfort Kill  
when it pierced into me,  
And my Soul with sorry filled,  
Oh! it will undo me.   

Heavens bless my dying Heart,  
heavenly Powers defend me,  
Love need not use so much Art  
and Cruelty to bend me:  
For my silly Soul did yield,  
when 'twas first assailed,  
And to Cupid gave the Field,  
Oh! then my spirits failed.   

Cupid, What is thy intent.  
what is thy desire?  
Let thy Bow be now unbent,  
for I am all on fire:  
O! sweet gentle God of Love,  
let thy Arrows miss me,  
Let her whom (in vain) I love▪  
Kill me, if not kiss me.   

What a pining Life have I,  
what a sad Condition?  
Ease me Love, and let me fly,  
this lingering Contrition:  
Kiss me, or else cure my Wound,  
O! some pity show me;  
Can there no Relief be found,  
But Love must overflow me.   

If my worthless Body must,  
be thy Arrows di●t,  
Then convert me into Dust,  
and let me have some quiet:  
Let thy Arrows take their fill,  
since she cannot abide me,  
With my Blood, come Cupid swill,  
Thou enough hast tried me.   
 
 

FOrc'd I am to yield I see,  
and adore thy Power,  
For thy Art hath conquered me,  
and hath brought me lower:  
I that did before neglect,  
and despise to love thee,  
Give thee now all due respect,  
And for pity move thee.   

O! sweet Love be not so fierce,  
but with pity moved,  
Let thy Golden Arrow pierce,  
the Heart of my beloved:  
Let us share in equal parts,  
and prostrate lie before the,  
Then our joyful flaming hearts,  
For ever shall Implore thee.   (he lies down.) The Author. 
Cupid hearing this Complaint,  
fearing 'twould undo him,  
Sends his best beloved Saint,  
fitly fixed unto him?  
Cupid doth himself descend,  
from his shrine of Glory,  
To complete the happy end.  
Of this Lover's story.  Cupid. 
Loaging Lover live and leave,  
this thy sad Lamenting,  
Though the Arrows in my sheave  
cause this Discontenting:  
By my Quiver and my Bow,  
I swear she shall not miss thee,  
I'll present Her to thee now,  
Court her and she'll kiss thee.  Philida. 
Where's this loyal Lover that  
so with pity moves me,  
Jove forbid that I should hate,  
Or kill the Thing that loves me:  
I am none of those coy Girls,  
that to Death will doom thee,  
Knights, & Lords, & Dukes & Earls  
shall not take me from thee.  Florio. 
What sweet words have I heard said,  
lovely smooth and even,  
Cupid sure hath struck me dead,  
and I am now in Heaven:  
This is Philida I see,  
with all joys about Her,  
Heaven cannot Heaven be,  
If it is without her.  Philida. 
Sure 'tis Florio appears,  
(as God Cupid chained him)  
He hath Loved me seven Years,  
and I as long disdained him:  
But the God hath struck my heart  
and put Love into me,  
If Florio should play my part,  
‛ I would utterly undo me.  Florio. 
Philida! Oh! Philida,  
let me come and Court thee,  
By Love's pure and precious Law  
I vow, I will not hurt the:  
Saints with Angles that are good,  
do as much as this is,  
I swear no motion of my blood,  
shall mingle with our Kisses.  Philida. 
I'll not tie thee up to that,  
prithee Kiss and spare not,  
And what more thou wouldst be at,  
in this sit I fear not:  
Love cannot be fed with Air,  
Kisses are but Bubbles,  
But let's be a Wedded pair,  
To avoid all troubles.  Florio. 
That's a real royal way,  
to prevent miscarriage,  
There's no Wormwood in the ●oy,  
that is mixed in Marriage:  
Quick let's to the Altar go,  
there to be made Fellows.  
Men and Maid are Fire & Tow,  
When Cupid blows the Bellows.  
FINIS.   

London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.,,