Remedy of LOVE.. W° By Mr. EVELYN. Ould you be quite cur'd of Love? To the open Fields repair; Cool'd with Absence, and with Air, Thousand things that may divert The Torments of your throbbing Heart. you find, If in this no Eafe But conftant Love ftill plagues your Mind, See if still her Eyes do burn With equal force; you'll find, perchance, Seeing oft what we defire Makes us less and lefs admire, And will in time put out the Fire. Stand by her when she does adorn Her Head, perhaps fome borrow'd Hair, Some ill-contriv'd, affected Snare, Lewd Song on Table found, or Pray'r Nonfenfical, may let you fee, That what you thought Divinity Is but a piece of Puppetry. If still thy Paffion does remain, Books and Mufick turn the Head, Fools only fing, and Madmen read: Women, and Fops that are more vain. By giving of them leave to fway A while; but they like Winter Torrents grow, And all our Limits overflow. Never trust thy felf alone, Frequent good Company and Wine, In gen❜rous Wines thy Paffion drown, Better 'tis to drink to death, Than figh and whine away our Breath. Vain, foolish, fond, proud, whimsical, Wines by keeping them improve, Women only, of all things, Have nothing to affwage their Stings. A N HOME Poetry, and with thee bring along Of noblest Words into my Song; Soft, and smooth, and thick as Snow, And like a Sphear harmoniously move. II. Little doft thou, mean Song, the Fortune know That thou art deftin'd to; Or what thy Stars intend to do. Among |