Good Luck at last: OR, The Art of Scorning discovered.
Tune of,
Ah Jenny Gin, &c.
Alex
[...]s.
HOw long
Elisa
[...]a
[...]l I mourn
and sigh to yo
[...]
[...]
How long do
[...]ou design to scorn,
and
[...]e dere remain
Shall
[...] no power have to free
me from this wound I bear?
Nor
[...] to drown my misery?
ye gone must I despair?
Elisa.
In vain
Alexis you pretend
t
[...]
[...]n
Elisa's heart,
You
[...] your t
[...] do speak,
for
[...] augment your
[...]:
Then Co
[...]dial Admonition take,
in time
[...]our suit give
[...] ▪
Draw in those rains which are too slack,
resolve to love no more.
Alexis.
Command the torrent of the Sea,
its head-long course to stay.
Or make fierce Tempests calm to be,
when those you do obey:
Then I'le resolve to court no more,
for I'le pren
[...]
[...] p
[...]ove,
I'le leave the
[...] I adore,
and quite relinquish love.
Elisa.
Ami
[...]a
[...] now my heart doth own,
he now
[...]njoys that
[...].
To him it doth belong alone,
nothing can
[...]
[...]:
Hence there
[...]or
[...] h
[...]ld Usu
[...]
[...],
if good wo
[...]des can
[...]
[...]ll,
I this experiment
[...]ill
[...] ▪
severer usage shall.
A
[...]exis.
All will not do; for I w
[...]ll
[...]ake
to my last
[...]igh '
[...]
[...] ▪
Nought my hot p
[...]ssio
[...] ca
[...] remove
but the cold
[...]and of d
[...]a
[...] ▪
Death, who
[...]ed
[...] appear,
when e're
Alexis pleas
[...] ▪
This fatal Sword shall fetch him here▪
my second
[...] for ease.
To thee (O
Cupid) I must make
my self a sacrifice.
A purer
[...] you ne'r did take
into eternal bliss:
Sword, now thy dreadful point appear,
to strike
Alexis dead,
And send his soul exempt from care
to its celestial bed.
Elisa.
Hold, hold my dear that impious hand,
this bloody Scene remove,
Let Death avaunt at the command
of my all conquering love:
Long since you did
[...]ain my heart,
though always I
[...]'d coy,
Though I
[...]o
[...] had the art,
you
[...] was
[...]
Al
[...],
Charm me
Elis
[...]
[...] that voice
tell th
[...] to
[...]
[...]ove,
Tell them that
[...] have joys
as great as
[...]
Come dear
[...], come apace,
fly to my longing a
[...]m
[...].
Let us injoy while time
[...]nd place
invites each others charms.
FINI
[...]
LONDON, Printed for P. Brooksby at the golden Ball near the Hospital gate in West Smithfield.