TURN, TURN THY BEAUTEOUS FACE AWAY

Turn, turn thy beauteous face away,
How pale and sickly looks the day,
In emulation of thy brighter beams!
Oh envious light, fly, fly, begone,

Come night, and piece two breasts as one;
When what love does, we will repeat in dreams.
Yet (thy eyes open) who can day hence fright,
Let but their lids fall, and it will be night.

TURN, TURN THY BEAUTEOUS FACE AWAY

Turn, turn thy beauteous face away,
How pale and sickly looks the day,

meleander:If thou canst wake with me, forget to eate,
Renounce the thought of Greatnesse; tread on Fate;
Sigh out a lamentable tale of things
Done long agoe, and ill done; and when sighes
Are wearied, piece up what remaines behind,
With weeping eyes, and hearts that bleed to death:
Thou shalt be a companion fit for me,
And we will sit together like true friends,
And never be devided. With what greedinesse
Doe I hug my afflictions? there's no mirth
Which is not truly season'd with some madnesse.

Who would have thought that face of thine
Had been so full of doubleness?
Or else within those crystal eyne
Had rest so much unstableness?
Thy face so fair, thy look so strange,
Who would have thought so full of change?

SONGS

I

SONG OF JEALOUSY

I

What state of life can be so blest
As love, that warms a lover's breast?
Two souls in one, the same desire
To grant the bliss, and to require!
But if in heav'n a hell we find,
'T is all from thee,
O Jealousy!
'T is all from thee,
O Jealousy!
Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,

EPILOGUE

Now , in good manners, nothing should be said
Against this play, because the poet's dead.
The prologue told us of a moral here:
Would I could find it! but the Devil knows where.
If in my part it lies, I fear he means
To warn us of the sparks behind our scenes.
For, if you 'll take it on Dalinda's word,
'T is a hard chapter to refuse a lord.
The poet might pretend this moral too,
That, when a wit and fool together woo,
The damsel (not to break an ancient rule)
Should leave the wit, and take the wealthy fool.

PROLOGUE

SPOKEN BY MR. BETTERTON

A S when some treasurer lays down the stick,
Warrants are sign'd for ready money thick,
And many desperate debentures paid,
Which never had been, had his lordship stay'd;
So now, this poet, who forsakes the stage,
Intends to gratify the present age.
One warrant shall be sign'd for every man;
All shall be wits that will, and beaux that can:
Provided still, this warrant be not shown,
And you be wits but to yourselves alone;
Provided, too, you rail at one another,

Your little hands,
Your little feet,
Your little mouth —
Oh, God, how sweet!

Your little nose,
Your little ears,
Your eyes, that shed
Such little tears!

Your little voice,
So soft and kind;
Your little soul,
Your little mind!

Lovers, like wrestlers, when they do not lay
Their Hold below the Girdle, use Fair Play.

" Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
" This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.

A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;

Tho' Grief and Fondness in my Breast rebel,
When injur'd T HALES bids the Town farewell,
Yet still my calmer Thoughts his Choice commend,
I praise the Hermit, but regret the Friend,
Who now resolves, from Vice and L ONDON far,
To breathe in distant Fields a purer Air,
And, fix'd on C AMBRIA ' s solitary Shore,
Give to St. D AVID one true Briton more.
For who would leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's Land,
Or change the Rocks of Scotland for the Strand?
There none are swept by sudden Fate away,