Act well the lover; let thy speech abound In dying words, that represent thy wound. Distrust not her belief; she will be mov'd; All women think they merit to be lov'd. Sometimes a man begins to love in jest, And, after, feels the torments he profess'd. For your own sakes be pitiful, ye fair; For a feign'd passion may a true prepare. By flatteries we prevail on womankind,700 As hollow banks by streams are undermin'd. Tell her, her face is fair, her eyes are sweet; Her taper fingers praise, and little feet. Such praises ev'n the chaste are pleas'd to hear; Both maids and matrons hold their beauty dear. Once naked Pallas with Jove's queen appear'd; And still they grieve that Venus was pre ferr'd. Praise the proud peacock, and he spreads his train; Be silent, and he pulls it in again. 720 Let us believe 'em: I believe they see, Be just in dealings, and defend the right; Nor Nile did floods, nor heav'n did rain supply. A foreigner at length inform'd the king That slaughter'd guests would kindly moisture bring. The king replied: "On thee the lot shall fall; Be thou, my guest, the sacrifice for all." 740 For tears will pierce a heart of adamant. If tears will not be squeez'd, then rub your And now 't is nature, what before was art. She strives by force her lover to detain, And wishes to be ravish'd once again. This is the sex: they will not first begin, But, when compell'd, are pleas'd to suffer sin. Is there, who thinks that women first should woo? Lay by thy self-conceit, thou foolish beau Begin, and save their modesty the shame; 'Tis well for thee, if they receive thy flame. 'Tis decent for a man to speak his mind; They but expect th' occasion to be kind. 8t Ask, that thou mayst enjoy; she waits for this; And on thy first advance depends thy bliss. Ev'n Jove himself was forc'd to sue for love; None of the nymphs did first solicit Jove. But if you find your pray'rs encrease her pride, Strike sail awhile, and wait another tide. They fly when we pursue; but make delay, And, when they see you slacken, they will stay. Sometimes it profits to conceal your end; Name not yourself her lover, but her friend. How many skittish girls have thus been caught? He prov'd a lover, who a friend was thought. Sailors by sun and wind are swarthy made; A tann'd complexion best becomes their trade. 'Tis a disgrace to plowmen to be fair; Bluff cheeks they have, and weather-beaten hair. Th' ambitious youth who seeks an olive 850 Nor Pylades Hermione embrac'd; And find a pleasure in our fellows' pain. Beware your brother, and your next of kin; 860 Six feet for ev'ry verse the Muse design'd; But Cupid, laughing, when he saw my mind, From ev'ry second verse a foot purloin'd. "Who gave thee, boy, this arbitrary sway, On subjects, not thy own, commands to lay, Who Phoebus only and his laws obey? 'Tis more absurd, than if the Queen of Love Should in Minerva's arms to battle move; Or manly Pallas from that queen should take II To his mistress, whose husband is invited to a feast with them. The poet instructs her how to behave herself in his company. YOUR husband will be with us at the treat; While his lewd hand descends below the board? Now wonder not that Hippodamia's charms, At such a sight, the Centaurs urg'd to I am not half a horse, (I would I were,) Yet hardly can from you my hands forbear. Take, then, my counsel; which, observ'd, may be Of some importance both to you and me. Be sure to come before your man be there: There's nothing can be done; but come howe'er. Sit next him, (that belongs to decency,) But tread upon my foot in passing by. Read in my looks what silently they speak, And slyly, with your eyes, your answer make. 20 My lifted eyebrow shall declare my pain; My right hand to his fellow shall complain, And on the back a letter shall design, Besides a note that shall be writ in wine. ear. If you are pleas'd with what I do or say, Handle your rings, or with your fingers play. As suppliants use at altars, hold the board, Whene'er you wish the devil may take your lord. When he fills for you, never touch the cup, But bid th' officious cuckold drink it up. The waiter on those services employ: Drink you, and I will snatch it from the boy; Watching the part where your sweet mouth has been, And thence, with eager lips, will suck it in. 81 He locks you in; I follow to the door, And whate'er fortune shall this night be- Coax me to-morrow, by forswearing all. ALEXANDER'S FEAST OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC; AN ODE IN HONOR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY [Dryden wrote this greatest of his lyric poems for the celebration of the Feast of St. Cecilia (November 22), 1697: compare note, p. 252, above. It was first set to music by Jeremiah Clarke; next, in 1711, by Thomas Clayton; finally, in 1736, by Handel (Malone, I, 1, 296–307). It was published as a folio pamphlet in 1697, and was reprinted in the volume of Fables, 1700. In a letter to Tonson, written about the close of 1697, Dryden says: "I am glad to heare from all hands, that my Ode is esteem'd the best of all my poetry, by all the town: I thought so my self when I writ it; but being old, I mistrusted my own judgment. I hope it has done you service, and will do more (Malone, I, 2, 63).] I |