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Come My Celia

 Come, my Celia, let us prove
While we may, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forever;
He at length our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Suns that set may rise again; But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumor are but toys.
Cannot we delude the eyes Of a few poor household spies, Or his easier ears beguile, So removed by our wile? 'Tis no sin love's fruit to steal; But the sweet theft to reveal.
To be taken, to be seen, These have crimes accounted been.

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