SHE
 You say, 'tis Love creates the pain,
 Of which so sadly [bad word] 
 And yet would fain engage my heart
 In that uneasy [bad word] part;
 But how, alas! think you that
 I Can bear the wounds of which you die?

HE
 'Tis not my passion makes my care,
 But your indiff'rence gives despair:
 The lusty sun begets no spring
 Till gentle show'rs assistance bring;
 So Love, that scorches and destroys,
 Till kindness aids, can cause no joys.

SHE
 Love has a thousand ways to please,
 But more to rob us of our ease;
 For waking nights and careful days,
 Some hours of pleasure he repays;
 But absence soon, or jealous fears,
 O'erflows the joy with floods of tears.

HE
 But one soft moment makes amends
 For all the torment that attends.

BOTH
 Let us love, let us love and to happiness haste.
 Age and [bad word] too fast.
 Youth for loving was design'd.

HE
 I'll be constant, you be kind.

SHE
 You be constant, I'll be kind.

BOTH
 Heav'n can give no greater blessing
 Than faithful love and kind possessing.