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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