The Merchant, To Secure His Treasure, Conveys It In A Borrowed Name: Euphelia Serves To Grace My Measure; But Chloe Is My Real Flame. My Softest Verse, My Darling Lyre Upon Euphelia'S Toilet Lay; When Chloe Noted Her Desire, That I Should Sing, That I Should Play. My Lyre I Tune, My Voice I Raise; But With My Numbers Mix My Sighs: And Whilst I Sing Euphelia'S Praise, I Fix My Soul On Chloe'S Eyes. Fair Chloe Blush'D: Euphelia Frowned: I Sung And Gazed:I Played And Trembled: And Venus To The Loves Around Remarked, How Ill We All Dissembled.