Cease, anxious world

Cease, anxious world, your fruitless pain,

To grasp forbidden store;

Your studied labours shall prove vain,

Your Alchemy unblest,

While seeds of far more precious ore

Are ripen'd in my breast.

My breast, the forge of happier love,

Where my Lucinda lives;

And the rich stock does so improve,

As she her art employs,

That ev'ry smile and touch she gives

Turns all to golden joys.

Since then we can such treasures raise

Let's no expense refuse;

In love let's lay out all our days,

How can we e'er be poor

When ev'ry blessing that we use

Begets a thousand more?