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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge
+Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Thomas d'Urfey
+
+Release Date: September 21, 2008 [EBook #26679]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND MIRTH, VOL. 5 OF 6 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Newman, Linda Cantoni, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. Music
+transcribed by Linda Cantoni.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note: This e-book is volume 5 of Thomas D'Urfey's _Wit
+and Mirth: Or Pills to Purge Melancholy_, published in six volumes in
+1719-20 by J. Tonson, London. It was prepared from a 1959 facsimile
+reprint by Folklore Library Publishers, Inc., New York, of an 1876
+reprint (publisher unidentified).
+
+The 1719-20 edition was published in two issues. The first issue was
+published under the title _Songs Compleat, Pleasant and Divertive_;
+the second, under the _Wit and Mirth_ title. The 1876 reprint
+apparently used a combination of the two issues, and volume 5 bears
+the _Songs Compleat_ title. Moreover, the 1876 reprint was not an
+exact facsimile of the 1719-20 edition, as the typography and music
+notation were modernized. For more information on the various
+editions, see Cyrus L. Day, "Pills to Purge Melancholy," _The Review
+of English Studies_, Vol. 8, No. 30 (Apr. 1932), pp. 177-184,
+available at http://www.jstor.org/stable/508831 (login required).
+
+Archaic and inconsistent spellings and hyphenation have been preserved
+as they appear in the original, except that "VV" is rendered as "W."
+The original order of titles in the Alphabetical Table has also been
+preserved. Obvious printer errors have been corrected.
+
+Some words are rendered in the original in blackletter font. They are
+rendered here in uppercase letters. Italics are indicated with
+underscores.]
+
+
+
+
+WIT and MIRTH:
+
+OR
+
+PILLS TO PURGE MELANCHOLY
+
+
+EDITED BY
+THOMAS D'URFEY
+
+
+IN SIX VOLUMES
+VOLUME V
+
+
+FOLKLORE LIBRARY PUBLISHERS, INC.
+NEW YORK
+1959
+
+
+_This edition is a facsimile reproduction
+of the 1876 reprint of
+the original edition of 1719-1720._
+
+Copyright © 1959
+
+PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
+by Noble Offset Printers, Inc.
+New York 3, New York
+
+
+
+
+SONGS Compleat,
+
+Pleasant and Divertive;
+
+SET TO
+
+MUSICK
+
+By Dr. JOHN BLOW, Mr. HENRY PURCELL,
+and other Excellent Masters of the Town.
+
+Ending with some ORATIONS, made and
+spoken by me several times upon the
+PUBLICK STAGE in the THEATER. Together
+with some Copies of VERSES, PROLOGUES,
+and EPILOGUES, as well as for my
+own PLAYS as those of other Poets, being
+all Humerous and Comical.
+
+VOL. V.
+
+_LONDON:_
+
+Printed by _W. Pearson_, for _J. Tonson_, at
+SHAKESPEAR'S Head, against _Catherine_
+Street in the _Strand_, 1719.
+
+
+
+
+AN
+
+Alphabetical TABLE
+
+OF THE
+
+SONGS and POEMS
+
+Contain'd in this
+
+BOOK.
+
+
+                                               Page
+
+A
+
+_All Christians and_ Lay-Elders _too_,            1
+
+_As I went by an Hospital_,                      29
+
+_A Shepherd kept Sheep on a_,                    35
+
+_As I was a walking under a Grove_,              37
+
+_A Councel grave our King did hold_,             49
+
+_A Heroe of no small Renown_,                    56
+
+_As the Fryer he went along_,                    58
+
+_A Bonny Lad came to the Court_,                 88
+
+_A Pox on those Fools, who exclaim_,             91
+
+_Amongst the pure ones all_,                    105
+
+_As Oyster_ Nan _stood by her Tub_,             107
+
+_Ah!_ Cælia _how can you be_,                   111
+
+_Are you grown so Melancholy_,                  118
+
+_As_ Collin _went from his Sheep_,              122
+
+_A Wife I do hate_,                             173
+
+_A Thousand several ways I try'd_,              181
+
+_A_ Whig _that's full_,                         207
+
+_As_ Cupid _roguishly one Day_,                 217
+
+_A Young Man sick and like to die_,             267
+
+_At Noon in a sultry Summer's Day_,             282
+
+_Ah! how lovely sweet and dear_,                287
+
+_Advance, advance, advance gay_,                288
+
+_Ah! foolish Lass, what mun I do_,              322
+
+
+B
+
+_Bold impudent_ Fuller _invented_,                5
+
+_By Moon-light on the Green_,                   103
+
+_Bonny_ Peggy Ramsey _that any_,                139
+
+_By shady Woods and purling_,                   161
+
+Belinda! _why do you distrust_,                 213
+
+_Born to surprize the World_,                   250
+
+_Bring out your Coney-Skins_,                   303
+
+_Bonny_ Scottish _Lads that keens_,             326
+
+
+C
+
+_Come bring us Wine in Plenty_,                  15
+
+_Come pretty Birds present your_,               120
+
+_Come fill up the Bowl with_,                   138
+
+_Cease lovely_ Strephon, _cease to_,            189
+
+_Cease whining_ Damon _to complain_,            202
+
+Cælia _my Heart has often rang'd_,              230
+
+Corinna, _if my Fate's to love you_,            254
+
+Cælia's _Charms are past expressing_,           257
+
+_Come Beaus, Virtuoso's, rich Heirs_,           265
+
+_Cease, cease of_ Cupid _to complain_,          298
+
+_Come, come ye Nymphs_,                         300
+
+Chloe _blush'd, and frown'd, and swore_,        345
+
+Cælia _hence with Affectation_,                 350
+
+
+D
+
+_Did you not hear of a gallant_,                 80
+
+_Divine_ Astrea _hither flew_,                  275
+
+_Draw_ Cupid _draw, and make_,                  306
+
+Damon _if you will believe me_,                 327
+
+_Drunk I was last Night that's_,                329
+
+Delia _tir'd_ Strephon _with her_,              343
+
+
+F
+
+_Fair_ Cælia _too fondly contemns_,             169
+
+_Fly_ Damon _fly, 'tis Death to stay_,          247
+
+_Fear not Mortal, none shall harm_,             248
+
+_Farewel ungrateful Traytor_,                   335
+
+
+G
+
+Gilderoy _was a bonny Boy_,                      39
+
+_Good Neighbour why do you_,                     73
+
+
+H
+
+_How now Sister_ Betteris, _why look_,           68
+
+_Heaven first created Woman to_,                135
+
+_Hears not my_ Phillis _how_,                   149
+
+_How happy's the Mortal whose_,                 179
+
+_He himself courts his own Ruin_,               188
+
+_How happy and free is the_,                    193
+
+_How charming_ Phillis _is_,                    201
+
+_Hither turn thee, hither turn thee_,           211
+
+_Here lies_ William de Valence,                 220
+
+_Ho my dear Joy, now what dost_,                240
+
+_Here's a Health to the Tackers_,               284
+
+_Here are People and Sports of_,                308
+
+_Hark! now the Drums beat up again_,            319
+
+_How often have I curs'd that sable Deceit_,    352
+
+
+I
+
+_I am a young Lass of_ Lynn,                     59
+
+_I am a jovial Cobler bold and_,                 75
+
+_It was a Rich Merchant Man_,                    77
+
+_If Sorrow the Tyrant invade_,                   83
+
+_In the pleasant Month of_ May,                 101
+
+_It was a happy Golden Day_,                    110
+
+_I prithee send me back my Heart_,              143
+
+_In_ Chloris _all soft Charms agree_,           162
+
+_I lik'd, but never lov'd before_,              171
+
+Iris _beware when_ Strephon _pursues_,          199
+
+_I am one in whom Nature has_,                  241
+
+_In vain, in vain, the God I ask_,              251
+
+_In the Devil's Country there_,                 271
+
+_In elder Time, there was of_ Yore,             289
+
+Ianthia _the lovely, the Joy of_,               301
+
+Jockey _met with_ Jenny _fair_,                 317
+
+_I met with the Devil in the_,                  330
+
+_Jilting is in such a Fashion_,                 333
+
+Jockey _loves his_ Moggy _dearly_,              341
+
+
+L
+
+_Let the Females attend_,                         8
+
+_Let's be jolly, fill our Glasses_,              16
+
+_Let's sing of Stage-Coaches_,                   20
+
+_Last_ Christmas _'twas my chance_,              25
+
+_Lately as thorough the fair_,                   44
+
+_Let Soldiers fight for Pay and Praise_,        145
+
+_Long had_ Damon _been admir'd_,                158
+
+Laurinda, _who did love Disdain_,               167
+
+_Let Ambition fire thy Mind_,                   205
+
+_Long was the Day e'er_ Alexis,                 214
+
+_Let's be merry, blith and jolly_,              337
+
+
+M
+
+_My Friend if you would understand_,             94
+
+_Marriage it seems is for better_,              272
+
+
+N
+
+_No more let_ Damon's _Eyes pursue_,            239
+
+_Nay pish, nay pish, nay pish Sir_,             305
+
+_No, no every Morning my_,                      323
+
+_Now my Freedom's regain'd_,                    325
+
+_No_, Phillis, _tho' you've all the Charms_,    338
+
+_Now to you ye dry Wooers_,                     340
+
+
+O
+
+_Once more to these Arms my_,                    92
+
+_One Night in my Ramble I_,                     109
+
+_Oh! let no Eyes be dry_,                       130
+
+_Old_ Lewis le Grand, _he raves like_,          151
+
+_Of old Soldiers, the Song you_,                217
+
+_Of late in the Park a fair Fancy_,             243
+
+_Oh! how you protest and solemnly_,             316
+
+
+P
+
+Philander _and_ Sylvia, _a gentle_,             140
+
+_Poor_ Jenny _and I we toiled_,                 146
+
+_Pretty_ Floramel, _no Tongue can_,             160
+
+_Plague us not with idle Stories_,              204
+
+_Poor_ Mountfort _is gone, and the_,            244
+
+_Pretty Parrot say, when I was_,                280
+
+
+S
+
+_State and Ambition, all Joy to_,                11
+
+_Stay, stay, shut the Gates_,                    85
+
+_Slaves to_ London _I'll deceive you_,          114
+
+_Stay, ah stay, ah turn, ah whither_,           237
+
+_See how fair and fine she lies_,               252
+
+_Since_ Cælia _only has the Art_,               286
+
+_Some brag of their_ Chloris,                   307
+
+_See, Sirs, see here! a Doctor rare_,           311
+
+_Swain thy hopeless Passion smother_,           344
+
+
+T
+
+_There was an old Woman liv'd_,                  13
+
+_The Suburbs is a fine Place_,                   27
+
+_There can be no Glad man_,                      32
+
+_Then_ Jockey _wou'd a wooing away_,             42
+
+_There was a Lass of_ Islington,                 46
+
+_There was a Lord of worthy Fame_,               53
+
+_There was a Jovial Tinker_,                     62
+
+_There is a fine Doctor now come_,               71
+
+_There was a Knight and he_,                    112
+
+_Think wretched Mortal, think_,                 134
+
+_To the Wars I must alass_,                     137
+
+_Though the Pride of my Passion fair_,          156
+
+_Tell me ye_ Sicilian _Swains_,                 175
+
+_To the Grove, gentle Love, let_,               182
+
+_Tell me no more of Flames in_,                 183
+
+_Tho' Fortune and Love may be_,                 186
+
+_That little Patch upon your Face_,             197
+
+_Tho' over all Mankind, besides my_,            233
+
+_There lives an Ale-draper near_,               259
+
+_The Caffalier was gone, and the_,              274
+
+_The_ Devil _he pull'd off his Jacket_,         278
+
+_The Jolly, Jolly Breeze_,                      347
+
+_The Jolly, Jolly Bowl_,                        ib.
+
+
+U
+
+_Upon a Holiday, when Nymphs_,                   87
+
+
+W
+
+_Where gott'st thou the_ Haver-mill,             17
+
+_When first_ Mardyke _was made_,                 65
+
+_When Maids live to Thirty, yet never_,          99
+
+_What Life can compare, with the_,              125
+
+_With my Strings of small Wire_,                128
+
+_When that young_ Damon _bless'd_,              131
+
+_Would you be a Man in Fashion_,                154
+
+_When first I fair_ Celinda _knew_,             157
+
+_When busy Fame o'er all the_,                  164
+
+_Why am I the only Creature_,                   165
+
+_Where would coy_ Amyntas _run_,                172
+
+_When gay_ Philander _left the Plain_,          177
+
+_Wealth breeds Care, Love, Hope_,               185
+
+_When first_ Amyntas _charmed my_,              192
+
+_Why so pale and wan fond Lover_,               195
+
+_When I languish'd and wish'd you_,             209
+
+_When first I saw her charming Face_,           277
+
+_While the Love is thinking_,                   283
+
+_When_ Jemmy _first began to love_,             332
+
+
+Y
+
+_You Master Colours pray_,                       22
+
+_Ye brave Boys and Tars_,                       115
+
+_Young_ Coridon _and_ Phillis,                  126
+
+_Your Hay it is mow'd, and your_,               142
+
+_You happy Youths, whose Hearts_,               191
+
+_Young Ladies that live in the_,                262
+
+_You I love by all that's true_,                336
+
+_You've been with dull Prologues_,              349
+
+
+
+
+SONGS Compleat,
+
+Pleasant and Divertive, &c.
+
+VOL. V.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ FOUR-LEGG'D ELDER: _Or a Horrible Relation of a_ DOG _and an_
+Elder's MAID.
+
+
+_By Sir_ John Burtonhead.
+
+[Music]
+
+All Christians and _Lay-Elders_ too,
+  For Shame amend your Lives;
+I'll tell you of a Dog-trick now,
+  Which much concerns you Wives:
+An _Elder's_ Maid near _Temple-Bar_,
+  (Ah! what a Quean was she?)
+Did take an ugly Mastiff Cur,
+  Where Christians use to be.
+    _Help House of Commons, House of Peers,_
+      _Oh now or never help!_
+    _Th' Assembly hath not sat Four Years,_
+      _Yet hath brought forth a Whelp._
+
+One Evening late she stept aside,
+  Pretending to fetch Eggs;
+And there she made her self a Bride,
+  To one that had four Legs:
+Her Master heard a Rumblement,
+  And wonder she did tarry;
+Not dreaming (without his consent)
+  His Dog would ever Marry.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+He went to peep, but was afraid,
+  And hastily did run,
+To fetch a Staff to help his Maid,
+  Not knowing what was done:
+He took his _Ruling Elders_ Cane,
+  And cry'd out _help, help, here_;
+For _Swash_ our Mastiff, and poor _Jane_,
+  Are now fight Dog, fight Bear.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+But when he came he was full sorry,
+  For he perceiv'd their Strife;
+That according to the _Directory_,
+  They Two were Dog and Wife:
+Ah! (then said he) thou cruel Quean,
+  Why hast thou me beguil'd?
+I wonder _Swash_ was grown so lean,
+  Poor Dog he's almost spoil'd.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+I thought thou hadst no Carnal Sense,
+  But what's in our Lasses:
+And could have quench'd thy Cupiscence,
+  According to the _Classes_:
+But all the Parish see it plain,
+  Since thou art in this pickle;
+Thou art an INDEPENDENT Quean,
+  And lov'st a CONVENTICLE.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Alas now each _Malignant_ Rogue,
+  Will all the World perswade;
+That she that's Spouse unto a Dog,
+  May be an _Elder's_ Maid:
+They'll jeer us if abroad we stir,
+  Good Master _Elder_ stay;
+Sir, of what _Classis_ is your Cur?
+  And then what can we say?
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+They'll many graceless Ballads sing,
+  Of a PRESBYTERIAN;
+That a _Lay Elder_ is a thing
+  Made up half Dog, half Man:
+Out, out, said he, (and smote her down)
+  Was Mankind grown so scant?
+There's scarce another Dog in Town,
+  Had took the COVENANT.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Then _Swash_ began to look full grim,
+  And _Jane_ did thus reply;
+Sir, you thought nought too good for him,
+  You fed your Dog too high:
+'Tis true he took me in the lurch,
+  And leap'd into my Arms;
+But (as I hope to come at Church)
+  I did your Dog no harm.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Then she was brought to _Newgate_ Gaol,
+  And there was Naked stripp'd;
+They whipp'd her till the Cords did fail,
+  As Dogs us'd to be whipp'd:
+Poor City Maids shed many a Tear,
+  When she was lash'd and bang'd;
+And had she been a _Cavalier_,
+  Surely she had been hang'd.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Hers was but _Fornication_ found,
+  For which she felt the Lash:
+But his was _Bugg'ry_ presum'd,
+  Therefore they hanged _Swash_:
+What will become of _Bishops_ then,
+  Or _Independency_?
+For now we find both Dogs and Men,
+  Stand up for PRESBYTRY.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+She might have took a _Sow-gelder_,
+  With _Synod-men_ good store,
+But she would have a _Lay-Elder_,
+  With Two Legs and Two more:
+Go tell the _Assembly_ of Divines,
+  Tell Adoniram blue;
+Tell _Burgess_, _Marshall_, _Case_ and _Vines_,
+  Tell _Now-and-Anon_ too.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Some say she was a _Scottish_ Girl,
+  Or else (at least) a Witch;
+But she was born in _Colchester_,
+  Was ever such a Bitch:
+Take heed all Christian Virgins now,
+  The _Dog-Star_ now prevails;
+Ladys beware your Monkeys too,
+  For Monkeys have long Tails.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Bless _King_ and _Queen_, and send us Peace,
+  As we had Seven Years since:
+For we remember no _Dog-days_,
+  While we enjoy'd our Prince:
+Bless sweet Prince _Charles_, Two _Dukes_, Three Girls,
+  Lord save his _Majesty_;
+Grant that his _Commons_, _Lords_, and _Earls_,
+  May lead such lives as _He_.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_Plain Proof Ruin'd: Or, a Grand_ CHEAT _Discover'd._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Bold Impudent _Fuller_ invented a Plot,
+And all to discover the Devil knows what;
+About a young Bantling strangely begot.
+  _Which no body can deny._
+
+The better to cheat both the Fools and the Wise,
+He Impos'd on a Nation a Hundred of Lies;
+That none but a Knight of the Post could devise.
+  _Which no body can deny._
+
+He tells us he had the Honour to peep,
+In the Warming-pan where the _Welch_ Infant did sleep;
+And found out a Plot which was Damnable deep,
+  _Which no Body can believe._
+
+Then to the Wise Senate he suddenly went,
+Where he told all the Lies that he then could invent,
+For which he was Voted a Rogue by consent,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+And tho' he was Punish'd for that his Offence,
+He has almost forgot it, it was so long since,
+Therefore the whole Game he began to Commence,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+Then he to the Lords his bold Letters did send,
+And told the high Peers, that the Plot he could mend,
+And make it as plain, as he first did pretend,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+He told them his Witnesses were mighty Men,
+That wou'd come to the Town, tho' the Devil knows when,
+And make _William Fuller_ once famous agen,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+The Lords they were Generous, Noble and Kind,
+And allowed him Freedom his 'Squires to find,
+The which he will do when the Devil is Blind,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+So the Peers they declared him a scandalous Sot,
+And none thinks him fit to manage a Plot,
+If _Newgate_ and _Tyburn_ does fall to his Lot,
+  _There's no Body will deny._
+
+They gave him no more time than himself did require,
+To find out his _Jones_ and the wandering 'Squire,
+But the time being come, they were never the nigher,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+The brave House of _Commons_ next for him did send,
+To hear what the Block-headly Fool wou'd pretend,
+Who humbly request, that they wou'd him befriend,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+One day he declar'd they were near _London_ Town,
+But the very next Day into _Wales_ they were flown,
+Such nimble Heel'd Witnessess never were known,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+When being Examin'd about his sham Plot,
+He answer'd as though he had minded them not,
+Perhaps the Young Rogue had his Lesson forgot,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+But after some Study and impudent Tales,
+Ask'd for a Commission to march into _Wales_,
+And be Chang'd to a Herse, as Rogues goes to Gaols,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+But seeing his Impudence still to abound,
+To go search for the Men who were not to be found,
+They immediately sent him back to _Fleet_ Pound,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+From the _Fleet_ to the Cart may he quickly advance
+To learn the true Steps of old _Oates's_ New Dance,
+And something beside, or it is a great Chance,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+He has made it a Trade to be doing of Wrong,
+In Swearing, and Lying, and Cheating so long,
+For all his Life time, he's been at it ding dong,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+_Welch Taffy_ he raves and crys Splutterdenails,
+He's abused hur Highness with Lies and with Tales,
+Hur will hang hur if e'er hur can catch hur in _Wales_,
+  _Which no Body will deny._
+
+
+
+
+_The Woman Warrior._
+
+_Who liv'd in_ COW-CROSS _near_ WEST-SMITHFIELD; _who changing her
+Apparrel, entered her self on Board in Quality of a Soldier, and
+sailed to_ IRELAND, _where she Valiantly behaved her self,
+particularly at the Siege of_ CORK, _where she lost her Toes, and
+received a Mortal Wound in her Body, of which she since Died in her
+return to_ LONDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+
+Let the Females attend,
+To the Lines which are penn'd,
+  For here I shall give a Relation;
+Of a Young marry'd Wife,
+Who did venture her Life,
+  For a Soldier, a Soldier she went from the Nation.
+
+She her Husband did leave,
+And did likewise receive
+  Her Arms, and on Board she did enter;
+And right valiantly went,
+With a Resolution bent,
+  To the Ocean, the Ocean her Life there to venture.
+
+Yet of all the Ships Crew,
+Not a Seaman that knew,
+  They then had a Woman so near 'em;
+On the Ocean so deep,
+She her Council did keep,
+  Ay, and therefore, and therefore she never did fear 'em.
+
+She was valiant and bold,
+And would not be controul'd,
+  By any that dare to offend her;
+If a Quarrel arose,
+She would give him dry Blows,
+  And the Captain, the Captain did highly commend her.
+
+For he took her to be,
+Then of no mean Degree,
+  A Gentleman's Son or a 'Squire;
+With a Hand white and fair,
+There was none could compare,
+  Which the Captain, the Captain did often admire.
+
+On the _Irish_ Shore,
+Where the Cannons did roar,
+  With many stout Lads she was landed;
+There her Life to expose,
+She lost two of her Toes,
+  And in Battle, in Battle was daily commended.
+
+Under _Grafton_ she fought,
+Like a brave Hero stout,
+  And made the proud Tories retire;
+She in Field did appear,
+With a Heart void of Fear,
+  And she bravely, she bravely did charge and give fire.
+
+While the battering Balls,
+Did assault the strong Walls,
+  Of _Cork_ and the sweet Trumpets sounded;
+She did bravely advance,
+Where by unhappy Chance,
+  This young Female, young Female alass she was wounded.
+
+At the End of the Fray,
+Still she languishing lay,
+  Then over the Ocean they brought her;
+To her own Native Shore,
+Now they ne'er knew before,
+  That a Woman, a Woman had been in that Slaughter.
+
+What she long had conceal'd,
+Now at length she reveal'd,
+  That she was a Woman that ventur'd;
+Then to _London_ with care,
+She did straitways repair,
+  But she dy'd, oh she dy'd e'er the City she enter'd.
+
+When her Parents beheld,
+They with Sorrow was fill'd,
+  For why they did dearly adore her:
+In her Grave now she lies,
+'Tis not watery Eyes,
+  No nor Sighing, nor Sighing that e'er can restore her.
+
+
+
+
+_A Medly, Compos'd out of several_ SONGS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+State and Ambition, all Joy to great _Cæsar_,
+  _Sawney_ shall ne'er be my Colly my Cow;
+All Hail to the Shades, all Joy to the Bridegroom,
+  And call upon _Dobbin_ with Hi, Je, ho.
+Remember ye Whigs, what was formerly done;
+  And _Jenny_ come tye my bonny Cravat,
+If I live to grow old for I find I go down,
+  For I cannot come every Day to Wooe.
+
+_Jove_ in his Throne was a Fumbler, _Tom Farthing_,
+  And _Jockey_ and _Jenny_ together did lie;
+Oh Mother _Roger_: Boys, fill us a Bumper,
+  For why will ye die my poor _Cælia_, ah why?
+Hark! how thundring Cannons do roar,
+  Ladies of _London_ both wealthy and fair;
+_Charon_ make hast and Ferry me over,
+  Lilli burlero bullen a lah.
+
+_Chloris_ awake, Four-pence-half-penny-farthing,
+  Give me the Lass that is true Country bred;
+Like _John_ of _Gaunt_ I walk in _Covent-Garden_,
+  I am a Maid and a very good Maid:
+Twa bonny Lads was _Sawney_ and _Jockey_,
+  The Delights of the Bottle and Charms of good Wine;
+Wading the Water so deep my sweet _Moggy_,
+  Cold and Raw, let it run in the right Line.
+
+Old _Obadiah_ sings _Ave-Maria_,
+  Sing Lulla-by-Baby with a Dildo;
+The old Woman and her Cat sat by the Fire,
+  Now this is my Love d'y' like her ho?
+Old _Charon_ thus preached to his Pupil _Achilles_,
+  And under this Stone here lies _Gabriel John_;
+Happy was I at the fight of Fair _Phillis_,
+What should a Young Woman do with an old Man?
+
+There's old Father _Peters_ with his Romish Creatures,
+  There was an old Woman sold Pudding and Pies,
+Cannons with Thunder shall fill them with Wonder,
+  I once lov'd a Lass that had bright rowling Eyes:
+There's my Maid _Mary_, she does mind her Dairy,
+  I took to my Heels and away I did run;
+And bids him prepare to be happy to Morrow,
+  Alass! I don't know the right end of a Gun.
+
+My Life and Death does lye both in your Power,
+  And every Man to his Mind, _Shrewsbury_ for me;
+On the Bank of a Brook as I sat Fishing,
+  Shall I Die a Maid and never Married be:
+Uds bobs let _Oliver_ now be forgotten,
+  _Joan_ is as good as my Lady in the Dark;
+Cuckolds are Christians Boys all the World over,
+  And here's a full Bumper to _Robin John Clark_.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ TROOPER _Watering his_ NAGG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There was an old Woman liv'd under a Hill,
+  Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo;
+She had good Beer and Ale for to sell,
+  Ho, ho, had she so, had she so, had she so;
+She had a Daughter her name was _Siss_,
+  Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo;
+She kept her at Home for to welcome her Guest,
+  Ho, ho, did she so, did she so, did she so.
+
+There came a Trooper riding by,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+He call'd for Drink most plentifully,
+  Ho, ho, did he so, _&c._
+When one Pot was out he call'd for another,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+He kiss'd the Daughter before the Mother,
+  Ho, ho, did he so, _&c._
+
+And when Night came on to Bed they went,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+It was with the Mother's own Consent,
+  Ho, ho, was it so, _&c._
+Quoth she what is this so stiff and warm,
+  Sing trolly _&c._
+'Tis Ball my Nag he will do you no harm,
+  Ho, ho, wont he so, _&c._
+
+But what is this hangs under his Chin,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+'Tis the Bag he puts his Provender in,
+  Ho, ho, is it so, _&c._
+Quoth he what is this? Quoth she 'tis a Well,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+Where Ball your Nag may drink his fill,
+  Ho, ho, may he so, _&c._
+
+But what if my Nag should chance to slip in,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+Then catch hold of the Grass that grows on the brim,
+  Ho, ho, must I so, _&c._
+But what if the Grass should chance to fail,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+Shove him in by the Head, pull him out by the Tail,
+  Ho, ho, must I so, _&c._
+
+
+
+
+_A Trip to the_ Jubilee. _The Tune by Mr._ R. Loe.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come bring us Wine in plenty,
+  We've Money enough to spend;
+I hate to see the Pots empty,
+  A Man cannot Drink to's Friend:
+Then drawer bring up more Wine,
+And merrily let it pass;
+We'll drink till our Faces do shine,
+He that wont may look like an Ass:
+And we'll tell him so to his Face,
+If he offers to baulk his Glass,
+For we defy all such dull Society.
+
+'Tis drinking makes us merry,
+  And Mirth diverts all Care;
+A Song of hey down derry,
+  Is better than heavy Air:
+Make ready quickly my Boys,
+And fill up your Glasses higher;
+For we'll present with Huzzas,
+And merrily all give fire;
+Since drinking's our desire,
+And friendship we admire,
+For here we'll stay, ne'er call Drawer what's to pay.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ GOOD FELLOW.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Let's be jolly, fill our Glasses,
+  Madness 'tis for us to think,
+How the World is rul'd by Asses,
+  That o'ersway the Wise with Chink:
+Let not such vain Thoughts oppress us,
+  Riches prove to them a Snare;
+We are all as rich as _Croesus_,
+  Drink your Glasses, take no care.
+
+Wine will make us fresh as Roses,
+  And our Sorrows all forgot;
+Let us fuddle well our Noses,
+  Drink ourselves quite out of Debt:
+When grim Death is looking for us,
+  Whilst we're singing o'er our Bowls;
+_Bacchus_ joyning in our Chorus,
+  Death depart, here's none but Souls.
+
+
+
+
+JOCKEY'S _Escape from_ DUNDEE; _and the Parsons Daughter whom he had
+Mow'd._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Where gott'st thou the _Haver-mill bonack_?
+  Blind Booby can'st thou not see;
+Ise got it out of the _Scotch-man's_ Wallet,
+  As he lig lousing him under a Tree:
+_Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,_
+_Come Saddle my Horse, and call up my Man;_
+  _Come open the Gates, and let me go free,_
+  _And shew me the way to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+For I have neither robbed nor stole,
+  Nor have I done any injury;
+But I have gotten a Fair Maid with Child,
+  The Minister's Daughter of bonny _Dundee_:
+_Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,_
+_Come saddle my Horse and call up my Man,_
+  _Come open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _And Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+Altho' Ise gotten her Maiden-head,
+  Geud feth Ise given her mine in lieu;
+For when at her Daddy's Ise gang to Bed,
+  Ise mow'd her without any more to do?
+Ise cuddle her close, and gave her a Kiss,
+Pray tell now where is the harm of this,
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _And Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+All _Scotland_ ne'er afforded a Lass,
+  So bonny and blith as _Jenny_ my dear;
+Ise gave her a Gown of Green on the Grass,
+  But now Ise no longer must tarry here:
+Then saddle my Nag that's bonny and gay,
+For now it is time to gang hence away,
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _She's ken me no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+In Liberty still I reckon to Reign,
+  For why I have done no honest Man wrong;
+The Parson may take his Daughter again,
+  For she'll be a Mammy before it is long:
+And have a young Lad or Lass of my breed,
+Ise think I have done her a generous deed;
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _For Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+Since _Jenny_ the Fair was willing and kind,
+  And came to my Arms with a ready good will;
+A token of love Ise left her behind,
+  Thus I have requited her kindness still:
+Tho' _Jenny_ the Fair I often had mow'd,
+Another may reap the harvest I sow'd,
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _She's ken me no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+Her Daddy would have me to make her my Bride,
+  But have and to hold I ne'er could endure;
+From bonny _Dundee_ this Day I will ride,
+  It being a place not safe and secure:
+Then _Jenny_ farewel my Joy and my dear,
+With Sword in my Hand the passage I'se clear;
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _For Ise gang no more to Bonny_ Dundee.
+
+My Father he is a muckle good Leard,
+  My Mother a Lady bonny and gay;
+Then while I have strength to handle a Sweard,
+  The Parson's request Ise never obey:
+Then _Sawny_ my Man be thou of my Mind,
+In bonny _Dundee_ we'se ne'er be confin'd,
+  _The Gates we will force to set ourselves free,_
+  _And never come more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+The _Sawny_ reply'd Ise never refuse,
+  To fight for a Leard so valiant and bold;
+While I have a drop of Blood for to lose,
+  E'er any fickle Loon shall keep us in hold:
+This Sweard in my Hand I'll valiantly weild,
+And fight by your side to kill or be kill'd,
+  _For forcing the Gates and set ourselves free,_
+  _And so bid adieu to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+With Sweard ready drawn they rid to the Gate,
+  Where being denied an Entrance thro'
+The Master and Man they fought at that rate,
+  That some ran away, and others they slew:
+Thus _Jockey_ the Leard and _Sawny_ the Man,
+They valiantly fought as Highlanders can,
+  _In spight of the Loons they set themselves free,_
+  _And so bid adieu to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Sung by Mr._ Dogget.
+
+
+[Music:
+
+Let's sing of Stage-Coaches,
+and fear no Reproaches;
+      for riding in one,
+but daily be jogging,
+  while whistling, and flogging,
+  while whistling and flogging,
+      the Coachman drives on;
+        with a hey geeup, geeup hey ho,
+        with a hey gee Dobin hey ho, hey,
+        geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho,
+        geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho,
+        with a hey, gee Dobin hey ho.]
+
+In Coaches thus strowling,
+Who wou'd not be rowling;
+      With Nymphs on each side,
+Still Pratling and Playing;
+  Our Knees interlaying,
+      We merrily ride.
+        _With a hey_, &c.
+
+Here chance kindly mixes,
+All sorts and all Sexes,
+      More Females than Men,
+We squeese 'em, we ease 'em,
+  The jolting does please 'em,
+      Drive jollily then,
+        _With a hey_, &c.
+
+The harder you're driving,
+The more 'tis reviving,
+      Nor fear we to tell,
+For if the Coach tumble,
+  We'll have a rare Jumble,
+      And then up tails all,
+        _With a hey_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_The Crafty Cracks of_ East-Smith-Field, _who pick't up a Master
+Colour upon_ Tower-Hill, _whom they Plundred of a Purse of_ Silver,
+_with above Threescore_ Guineas.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+You Master Colours pray draw near,
+  And listen to my Report;
+My Grief is great, for lo of late,
+  Two Ladies I chanc'd to Court:
+Who did meet me on _Tower-Hill_,
+  Their Beauties I did behold:
+_Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,_
+  _And plunder'd me of my Gold._
+
+I'll tell you how it came to pass,
+  This sorrowful Story is thus:
+Of Guineas bright a glorious Sight,
+  I had in a Cat-skin Purse:
+The Value of near Fourscore Pounds,
+  As good as e'er I had told,
+_Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,_
+  _And plunder'd me of my Gold._
+
+I saw two poor distressed Men,
+  Who lay upon _Tower-Hill_,
+To whom in brief I gave Relief,
+  According to my good Will:
+Two wanton Misses drawing near,
+  My Guineas they did behold;
+They laid a Plot by which they Got,
+  My Silver and yellow Gold.
+
+They both address'd themselves to me,
+  And thus they was pleas'd to say;
+Kind Sir, indeed, we stand in need,
+  Altho' we are fine and gay:
+Of some Relief which you may give,
+  I thought they were something bold;
+The Plot was laid, I was betray'd,
+  And plunder'd of all my Gold.
+
+Alas 'tis pity, then I cry'd,
+  Such Ladies of good Repute,
+Should want Relief, therefore in brief,
+  I gave 'em a kind Salute:
+Thought I of them I'll have my Will,
+  Altho' I am something old;
+They were I see too wise for me,
+  They plunder'd me of my Gold.
+
+Then to _East-Smithfield_ was I led,
+  And there I was entertain'd:
+With Kisses fine and Brandy Wine,
+  In Merriment we remain'd:
+Methought it was the happiest Day,
+  That ever I did behold;
+Sweet Meat alass! had sower Sauce,
+  They plunder'd me of my Gold.
+
+Time after Time to pay their Shot,
+  My Guineas I would lug out;
+Those Misses they wou'd make me stay,
+  And rally the other bout:
+I took my Fill of Pleasures then
+  Altho' I was something old;
+Those Joys are past, they would not last,
+  I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.
+
+As I was at the wanton Game,
+  My Pocket they fairly pick'd;
+And all my Wealth they took by stealth,
+  Thus was a poor Colour trick'd:
+Let me therefore a Warning be,
+  To Merchants both young and old;
+For now of late hard was my Fate,
+  I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.
+
+They got three Pounds in Silver bright,
+  And Guineas above Threescore,
+Such sharping Cracks breaks Merchants Backs,
+  I'll never come near them more:
+Sure now I have enough of them,
+  My Sorrow cannot be told;
+That crafty Crew makes me look Blew,
+  I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.
+
+
+
+
+_The Dance of the_ USURER _and the_ Devil.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Last _Christmas_ 'twas my chance,
+  To be in _Paris_ City;
+Where I did see a Dance,
+  In my conceit was very pretty--By men of France.
+
+First came the Lord of _Pool_,
+  And he begun his Measure;
+The next came in a Fool,
+  And danc'd with him for pleasure--With his Tool.
+
+The next a Knight came in,
+  Who look'd as he would swagger;
+And after follow'd him
+  A merry needy Beggar--Dancing in.
+
+The next a Gentleman,
+  On him a Servant tending,
+And there the Dance began,
+  With nimble Bodies bending--Like two Friends.
+
+Then in a Lawyer came,
+  With him a Knave came leaping;
+And as they Danc'd in Frame,
+  So Hand in Hand went skipping--To the Term.
+
+The next a Citizen,
+  And he a Cuckold leading;
+So round about the Room,
+  Their Masque they fell a Treading--And fain they would.
+
+The next an Usurer,
+  Old fat Guts he came grunting;
+The Devil left all care,
+  For joy he fell a Jumping--To see him there.
+
+And ending then their Masque,
+  The Fool his Lord he carries
+Upon his Back in hast,
+  No longer there he tarries--But left the place.
+
+The Beggar took the Knight,
+  Who took it in Derision;
+The Searjeant took in Spite,
+  The Gentleman to Prison--For all his might.
+
+The Cuckold, silly Man,
+  Altho' he was abhorred:
+He took the Citizen,
+  And led him by the Forehead--And out he ran.
+
+The Devil lik'd it well,
+  His lot it was to carry;
+The Usurer to Hell,
+  And there with him to tarry.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ SUBURBS _is a fine place: To the_ Tune _of_ LONDON _is a fine
+Town._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+The Suburbs is a fine Place belonging to the City,
+It has no Government at all, alack the more the Pity;
+A Wife, a silly Animal, esteemed in that same Place,
+For there a Civil Woman's now asham'd to shew her Face:
+The Misses there have each Man's Time, his Money, nay, his Heart,
+Then all in all, both great and small, and all in ev'ry Part.
+
+Which Part it is a thorough-fair so open and so large,
+One well might sail through ev'ry Tail even in a western Barge;
+These Cracks that Coach it now, when first they came to Town,
+Did turn up Tail for a Pot of Ale in Linsey Wolsey Gown.
+
+The Bullies first debauch'd 'em, in Baudy _Covent-Garden_,
+That filthy place, where ne'er a Wench was ever worth a Farthing;
+And when their Maiden-heads are sold to sneaking Lords,
+Which Lords are Clapt at least nine-fold for taking of their Words.
+
+And then my Lord, that many tries, she looks so Innocent,
+Believing he Infected her, he makes a Settlement;
+These are your Cracks, who skill'd in all kind of Debauches,
+Do daily piss, spue and whore in their own glass Coaches.
+
+Now Miss turn Night-walker, till Lord-Mayor's Men she meets,
+O'er Night she's Drunk, next Day she's finely flogged thro' _London_
+  streets;
+After their Rooms of State are chang'd to Bulks or Coblers Stalls,
+'Till Poverty and Pox agree they dying in Hospitals.
+
+This Suburbs gallant Fop that takes delight in Roaring,
+He spends his time in Huffing, Swearing, Drinking, and in Whoring;
+And if an honest Man and his Wife meet them in the Dark,
+Makes nothing to run the Husband through to get the name of Spark.
+
+But when the Constable appears, the Gallant, let me tell ye,
+His Heart denies his Breeches, and sinks into his Belly;
+These are the silly Rogues that think it fine and witty,
+To laugh and joak at Aldermen, the Rulers of the City.
+
+They'd kiss our Wives, but hold, for all their plotting Pates,
+While they would get us Children, we are getting their Estates;
+And still in vain they Court pretending in their Cares,
+That their Estates may thus descend unto the Lawful Heirs.
+
+Their Play-houses I hate, are Shops to set off Wenches,
+Where Fop and Miss, like Dog and Bitch, do couple under Benches;
+That I might advise the chiefest Play-house monger,
+I have a Sister of my own both Handsomer and Younger.
+
+She lives not far off in the Parish of St. _Clements_,
+She never liv'd in Cellar nor sold Oranges and Lemons:
+Then why should Play-house Trulls with Paint and such Temptations,
+Be an Eye sore to me & more to the best part o'th' Nation.
+
+Now you that all this while have listened to my Dity,
+With streightened Hands pray drink a Health unto this noble City:
+And let us pray to _Jove_, these Suburb folks to mend,
+And having now no more to say, I think it fit to end.
+
+
+
+
+_The Old Woman's_ WISH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As I went by an Hospital,
+  I heard an Old Woman cry,
+Kind Sir, quoth she, be kind to me,
+  Once more before I Die,
+And grant to me those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above reward your Love,
+  To an old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+I find an itching in my Blood,
+  Altho' it be something Cold,
+Therefore Good Man do what you can,
+  To comfort me now I'm Old.
+And Grant to me those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+Altho' I cannot see the Day,
+  Nor never a glance of light;
+Kind Sir, I swear and do declare,
+  I honour the Joys of Night:
+Then grant to me those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above Reward you Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+When I was in my Blooming Youth,
+  My vigorous Love was Hot;
+Now in my Age I dare Engage,
+  A fancy I still have got:
+Then give to me those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+You shall miss of a Reward,
+  If Readily you comply;
+Then do not Blush but touch my flesh.
+  This minute before I die:
+O let me tast those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+I Forty Shillings would freely give,
+  'Tis all the Mony I have;
+Which I full long have begged for,
+  To carry me to my Grave:
+This I would give to have the Bliss,
+  That belongs to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+I had a Husband in my Youth,
+  As very well 'tis known,
+The truth to tell he pleased me well,
+  But now I am left alone;
+And long to tast the good Old Game,
+  That belongs to Woman-kind:
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+If Forty Shillings will not do,
+  My Petticoat and my Gown;
+Nay Smock also shall freely go,
+  To make up the other Crown:
+Then Sir, pray Grant that kind Request,
+  That belongs to Woman-kind;
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+Tho' I am Fourscore Years of Age,
+  I love with a Right good Will;
+And what in truth I want in Youth,
+  I have it in perfect Skill:
+Then grant to me that Charming Bliss,
+  That belongs to Woman-kind;
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+Now if you do not pleasure me,
+  And give me the thing I crave;
+I do protest I shall not rest,
+  When I am laid in my Grave:
+Therefore kind Sir, grant me the Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind;
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+
+
+
+_The Mad-Man's_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There can be no Glad-man compar'd to the Mad-man,
+His Mind is still void of Care;
+His Fits and his Fancies, are above all Mischances,
+  And Mirth is his ordinary Fare.
+    _Then be thou Mad, Mad, Mad let's be,_
+    _Nor shall the foul Fiend be Madder than we._
+
+The Wise and the Witty, in Court and in City,
+  Are subject to sorrow and Pain;
+While he that is Mad, knows not why to be Sad,
+  Nor has any cause to complain:
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+We laugh at you Wise Men, that thus do despise Men,
+  Whose Senses you think to Decline;
+Mark well and you'll see, what you count but Frenzy,
+  Is indeed but Raptures Divine.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+Let the Grave and the Wise, pluck out their Eyes,
+  To set forth a Book worth a Groat;
+We Mad-men are quicker, grow Learn'd with good Liquor,
+  And Chirp a Merry note.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+Hast thou lost thy Estate Man, why, care not for that Man,
+  What Wealth may'st not fancy thy own;
+More than Queen _Dido_, or her Ass-Ear'd _Midas_,
+  That great Philosopher's stone.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+_Pompey_ was a Mad-man, and so long a Glad-man;
+  But at length he was forc'd to flee;
+For _Cæsar_ from _Gallia_ beat him in _Pharsalia_,
+  'Cause a madder Fellow then he.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+'Twas this Extasie brave, that the great Courage gave,
+  If your Eyes were but ope'd and would see;
+To great _Alexander_, that mighty Commander,
+  As Mad a Fellow as could be.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+Then around goes a Health to the Lady o'th' House,
+  If any Man here does forsake it;
+For a Fool let him go, we know better Manners,
+  And so we mean to take it.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+There's no Night Mirth's going, nor any Lad wooing,
+  But Mad-men are privy unto it;
+For the Stars so peep, into every such thing,
+  And wink upon us as you do it.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+When the Frost, Ice and Snow, do benumb things below,
+  We Chirp as merry as Larks;
+Our Sack and our Madness, consumes cold and sadness,
+  And we are the Jovial Sparks.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+Has thy Mistress frown'd on thee, or thy Rival out-gone thee?
+  Let Sober and Wise Fellows pine;
+Whilst bright _Miralind_ and goodly _Dulcind_,
+  And the rest of the Fairies are thine.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+A Mad-man needs baulk no manner of talk,
+  His Tongues never guilty with Treason;
+But a Wise Knave would suffer, if the same he should utter,
+  For a wise Man's Guilt is his Reason.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Shepherd kept Sheep on a Hill so high, _fa, la, la_, &c.
+And there came a pretty Maid passing by, _fa, la_, &c.
+Shepherd, quoth she, dost thou want e'er a Wife,
+No by my troth I'm not weary of my Life, _fa, la, la_, &c.
+
+Shepherd for thee I care not a Fly, _fa, la, la_,
+For thou'st not the Face with a fair Maid to lie, _fa, la_,
+How now my Damsel, say'st thou me so,
+Thou shalt tast of my bottle before thou dost go, _fa, la_.
+
+Then he took her and laid her upon the Ground, _fa, la_,
+And made her believe that the World went round, _fa, la_,
+Look yonder my Shepherd, look yonder I spy,
+There are fine pretty Babies that dance in the Sky, _fa, la_.
+
+And now they are vanisht, and now they appear, _fa, la_,
+Sure they will tell Stories of what we do here, _fa, la, la_,
+Lie still my dear _Chloris_, enjoy thy Conceit,
+For the Babes are too young and too little to prate, _fa, la, la_.
+
+See how the Heavens fly swifter than Day, _fa, la, la_,
+Rise quickly, or they will all run away, _fa, la, la_,
+Rise quickly my Shepherd, quickly I tell ye,
+For the Sun, Moon and Stars are got all in my Belly, _fa, la_.
+
+O dear, where am I? pray shew me the way, _fa, la, la_,
+Unto my Father's House hard by, _fa, la, la_,
+If he chance to Chide me for staying so long,
+I'll tell him the fumes of your Bottle were strong, _fa, la, la_.
+
+And now thou hast brought my Body to shame, _fa, la_,
+I prithee now tell me what is thy Name, _fa, la, la_,
+Why _Robin_ in the Rushes my Name is, quoth he,
+But I think I told her quite contrary, _fa, la, la_.
+
+Then for _Robin_ in the Rushes, she did enquire, _fa, la, la_,
+But he hung down his Head, and he would not come nigh her, _fa, la, la_,
+He wink'd with one Eye, as if he had been Blind,
+And he drew one Leg after a great way behind, _fa, la, la_.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As I was a walking under a Grove,
+  Within my self, as I suppos'd;
+My Mind did oftentimes remove,
+  And by no means could be disclosed:
+At length by chance a Friend I met,
+  Which caused me long time to tarry;
+And thus of me she did intreat,
+  To tell her when I meant to Marry.
+
+Sweet-heart, quoth I, if you would know,
+  Then hear the Words, and I'll reveal it;
+Since in your Mind you bear it so,
+  And in your Heart you will conceal it:
+She promis'd me she'd make no Words,
+  But of such things she would be wary;
+And thus in brief I did begin,
+  To tell her when I meant to Marry.
+
+When _Shrove-tide_ falls in _Easter_ week,
+  And _Christmas_ in the midst of _July_;
+When Lawyers for no Fees will Plead,
+  And Taylors they prove Just and Truly:
+When all Deceits are quite put down,
+  And Truth by all Men is preferred;
+And _Indigo_ dies Red and Brown,
+  O then my Love and I'll be Married.
+
+When Men and Beasts in the Ocean flow,
+  And Fishes in green Fields are feeding;
+When Muscle-shells in the Streets grow,
+  And Swans upon dry Rocks be breeding:
+When Cockle-shells are Diamond Rings,
+  And Glass to Pearl may be compared;
+Gold is made of a Grey-goose Wings,
+  Oh then my Love and I'll be Married.
+
+When hostesses do reckon true,
+  And _Dutchmen_ leave off drinking Brandy;
+When Cats do bark, and Dogs do Mew,
+  And Brimstone is took for Sugar-candy:
+Or when that _Whitsontide_ do fall,
+  Within the Month of _January_;
+And a Cobler works without an Awl,
+  O then my, _&c._
+
+When Women know not how to Scold,
+And Maids on Sweet-hearts ne'er are thinking;
+When Men in the Fire complain of Cold,
+  And Ships on _Salisbury_ Plain fear sinking:
+Or when Horse-Coursers turn honest Men,
+  And _London_ into _York_ is carried;
+And out of One you can take Ten,
+ Oh then, _&c._
+
+When Candlesticks do serve for Bells,
+  And Frying-pans they do use for Ladles;
+When in the Sea they dig for Wells,
+  And Porridge-pots they use for Cradles:
+When Maids forget to go a _Maying_,
+  And a Man on his Back an Ox can carry;
+Or when the Mice with the Cat be playing,
+  Oh then, _&c._
+
+Good Sir, since you have told me when,
+  That you're resolv'd for to Marry;
+I wish with all my Heart till then,
+  That for a Wife you still may tarry:
+But if all young Men were of your mind,
+  And Maids no better were preferred;
+I think it were when the D----l were blind,
+  That we and our Lovers should be Married.
+
+
+
+
+Gilderoys _last Farewel. To a New Tune._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Gilderoy_ was a bonny Boy,
+  Had Roses tull his shun,
+His Stockings were made of the finest Silk,
+  His Garters hanging down:
+It was a comely sight to see,
+  He was so trim a Boy;
+He was my Joy and Heart's Delight,
+  _My Handsom_ Gilderoy.
+
+Oh sike a charming Eye he had,
+  A Breath as sweet as a Rose,
+He never wore a Hiland plad,
+  But costly silken Cloaths:
+He gain'd the Love of Ladies gay,
+  There's none to him was Coy;
+Ah, wa's me, Ise mourn this Day,
+  _For my Dear_ Gilderoy.
+
+My _Gilderoy_ and I was born,
+  Both in one Town together;
+Not past Seven years of Age,
+  Since one did Love each other:
+Our Daddies and our Mammies both,
+  Were cloath'd with mickle Joy,
+To think upon the Bridal Day,
+  _Betwixt I and my_ Gilderoy.
+
+For _Gilderoy_, that Love of mine,
+  Geud faith Ise freely bought:
+A Wedding-sark of Holland fine,
+  With Silk in Flowers wrought:
+And he gave me a Wedding Ring,
+  Which I receiv'd with Joy;
+No Lads or Lasses e'er could Sing,
+  _Like my sweet_ Gilderoy.
+
+In mickle Joy we spent our time,
+  Till we was both Fifteen;
+Then gently he did lay me down,
+  Amongst the leaves so green:
+When he had done what he could do,
+  He rose and he gang'd his way;
+But ever since I lov'd the Man,
+  _My Handsome_ Gilderoy.
+
+While we did both together play,
+  He kiss'd me o'er and o'er;
+Geud faith it was as blith a Day,
+  As e'er I saw before:
+He fill'd my Heart in every Vein,
+  With Love and mickle Joy;
+Who was my Love and Hearts delight,
+  _Mine own sweet_ Gilderoy.
+
+Oh never, never shall I see,
+  The cause of past Delight;
+Or sike a lovely Lad as he,
+  Transport my Ravish'd sight:
+The Law forbids what Love enjoyns,
+  And does prevent our Joy;
+Though just and fair were the Designs,
+  _Of me and_ Gilderoy.
+
+'Cause _Gilderoy_ had done amiss,
+  Must he be punish'd then;
+What kind of Cruelty is this
+  To hang such Handsom Men?
+The Flower of the _Scotish_ land,
+  A sweet and lovely Boy;
+He likewise had a Lady's Hand,
+  _My Handsom_ Gilderoy.
+
+At _Leith_ they took my _Gilderoy_,
+  And there God wot they bang'd him:
+Carry'd him to fair _Edenburgh_,
+  And there God wot they hang'd him:
+They hang'd him up above the rest,
+  He was so trim a Boy;
+My only Love and Heart's Delight,
+  _My Handsom_ Gilderoy.
+
+Thus having yielded up his Breath,
+  In _Cypress_ he was laid;
+Then for my dearest, after Death,
+  A Funeral I made:
+Over his Grave a Marble-stone,
+  I fixed for my Joy;
+Now I am left to weep alone,
+  _For my dear_ Gilderoy.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ SCOTCH _Wedding_
+
+_Between_ JOCKEY _and_ JENNY.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Then _Jockey_ wou'd a Wooing away,
+  On our Feast-day when he was foo;
+Then _Jenny_ put on her best Array,
+  When she thought _Jockey_ would come to Woo.
+
+If I thought _Jockey_ were come to Town,
+  It wad be for the leve of me;
+Then wad I put on beth Hat and Goown,
+  Because I'd seem worstsome in his Eye.
+
+Then _Jenny_ prick'd up a brant breeght broow,
+  She was as breeght as onny clock;
+As _Moggy_ always used to do,
+  For fear her Sweet-heart shou'd her mock.
+
+Then _Jenny_ shoo tripped up the Stairs,
+  And secretly to shift her Smock;
+But leard how loud her mother swears,
+  O hast away _Jenny_, and come to _Jock_.
+
+Then _Jenny_ came tripping down the Stairs,
+  Oh Leard so nimbly tripped she;
+But oh how _Jockey_ began to stare,
+  When he beheld hur fair Beauty!
+
+Then _Jenny_ made a Curtshy low,
+  Until the Stairs did touch her Dock;
+But Leard how loud her Mother did lough,
+  When shoo _Jenny_ was come to _Jock_.
+
+Then _Jockey_ tuke _Jenny_ by the Nease,
+  Saying my dear Lovey canst thou loof me?
+My Father is Dead and has left me Land,
+  Some fair ould Houses twa or three.
+
+Thou shalt be the Lady o'er them aw,
+  I doot, quod _Jenny_ you do me mock;
+Ad ta my saw, quoth _Jockey_, then,
+  I come to woo thee _Jenny_, quoth _Jock_.
+
+
+_This to be said after the_ SONG.
+
+Sea then they gang'd to the Kirk to be wad; noow they den't use to wad
+in _Scotchland_ as they wad in _England_, for they gang to the Kirk,
+and they take the Donkin by the Rocket, and say, good morn Sir Donkin,
+says Sir Donkin, ah _Jockey_ sen ater me, wit ta ha _Jenny_ to thy
+wadded Wife? ay by her Lady quoth _Jockey_ and thanka twa, we aw my
+Heart; ah _Jenny_ sen ater me, wit ta ha _Jockey_ to thy wadded Loon,
+to have and to hold for aver and aver, forsaking aw other Loons,
+lubberloons, black Lips, blue Nases, an aw Swiggbell'd caves? ah, an
+these twa be'nt as weel wadded as e'er I wadded twa in _Scotchland_,
+the Deel and St. _Andrew_ part ye.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG _made to the_ Irish JIGG, _and Sung to the King at_
+Whitehall.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Lately as thorough the fair _Edinborough_,
+  To view the fair Meadows as I was ganging;
+_Jockey_ and _Moggy_ were walking and talking,
+  Of Love and Religion, thus closely Haranguing;
+Never says _Moggy_, come near me false _Jockey_,
+  For thou art a _Whig_, and I mean to abhor thee;
+Ize be no Bride, nor will lig by thy side,
+  For no sneaking Rebel shall lift a Leg o'er me.
+
+_Jockey._ Fairest and Dearest,
+          And to my Heart nearest,
+  To live with thy Frowns I no longer am able;
+          I am so loving,
+          And thou art so moving,
+  Each Hair of thy Head ties me fast as a Cable:
+          Thou hast that in thee,
+          Ise sure to win me,
+  To _Jew_, _Turk_ or _Atheist_, so much I adore thee;
+          Nothing I'd shun,
+          That is under the Sun,
+  So I have the pleasure to lift a Leg o'er thee.
+
+_Moggy._ Plotters and Traytors,
+          And Associators,
+  In every degree thou shalt swear to oppose 'em;
+          Swimmers and Trimmers,
+          The Nations Redeemers,
+  And for thy Reward thou shalt sleep in my Bosom;
+          I had a Dad,
+          Was a Royal brave Lad,
+  And as true as the Sun to his Monarch before me;
+          _Moggy_ he cry'd,
+          The same hour that he Dy'd,
+  Let no sneaking Rebel e'er lift a Leg o'er thee.
+
+_Jockey._ Adieu then ye Crew then,
+          Of Protestant Blue Men,
+  No Faction his _Moggy_ from _Jockey_ shall sever;
+          Thou shalt at Court,
+          My Conversion Report,
+  I am not the first Whig by his Wife brought in favour;
+          Ise never deal,
+          For the dull Common Weal,
+  To fight for true Monarchy shall be my Glory;
+          Lull'd with thy Charms,
+          Then I die in your Arms,
+  When I have the Pleasure to lift a Leg o'er thee.
+
+
+
+
+_The Fair Lass of_ ISLINGTON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There was a Lass of _Islington_,
+  As I have heard many tell;
+And she would to Fair _London_ go,
+  Fine Apples and Pears to sell:
+And as along the Streets she flung,
+  With her basket on her Arm:
+Her Pears to sell, you may know it right well,
+  This fair Maid meant no harm.
+
+But as she tript along the Street,
+  Her pleasant Fruit to sell;
+A Vintner did with her meet,
+  Who lik'd this Maid full well:
+Quoth he, fair Maid, what have you there?
+  In Basket decked brave;
+Fine Pears, quoth she, and if it please ye
+  A taste Sir you shall have.
+
+The Vintner he took a Taste,
+  And lik'd it well, for why;
+This Maid he thought of all the rest,
+  Most pleasing to his Eye:
+Quoth he, fair Maid I have a Suit,
+  That you to me must grant;
+Which if I find you be so kind,
+  Nothing that you shall want.
+
+Thy Beauty doth so please my Eye,
+  And dazles so my sight;
+That now of all my Liberty,
+  I am deprived quite:
+Then prithee now consent to me,
+  And do not put me by;
+It is but one small courtesie,
+  All Night with you to lie.
+
+Sir, if you lie with me one Night,
+  As you propound to me;
+I do expect that you should prove,
+  Both courteous, kind and free:
+And for to tell you all in short,
+  It will cost you Five Pound,
+A Match, a Match, the Vintner said,
+  And so let this go round.
+
+When he had lain with her all Night,
+  Her Money she did crave,
+O stay, quoth he, the other Night,
+  And thy Money thou shalt have:
+I cannot stay, nor I will not stay,
+  I needs must now be gone,
+Why then thou may'st thy Money go look,
+  For Money I'll pay thee none.
+
+This Maid she made no more ado,
+  But to a Justice went;
+And unto him she made her moan,
+  Who did her Case lament:
+She said she had a Cellar Let out,
+  To a Vintner in the Town;
+And how that he did then agree
+  Five Pound to pay her down.
+
+But now, quoth she, the Case is thus,
+  No Rent that he will pay;
+Therefore your Worship I beseech,
+  To send for him this Day:
+Then strait the Justice for him sent,
+  And asked the Reason why;
+That he would pay this Maid no Rent?
+  To which he did Reply,
+
+Although I hired a Cellar of her,
+  And the Possession was mine?
+I ne'er put any thing into it,
+  But one poor Pipe of Wine:
+Therefore my Bargain it was hard,
+  As you may plainly see;
+I from my Freedom was Debarr'd,
+  Then good Sir favour me.
+
+This Fair Maid being ripe of Wit,
+  She strait Reply'd again;
+There were two Butts more at the Door,
+  Why did you not roul them in?
+You had your Freedom and your Will,
+  As is to you well known;
+Therefore I do desire still,
+  For to receive my own.
+
+The Justice hearing of their Case,
+  Did then give Order strait;
+That he the Money should pay down,
+  She should no longer wait:
+Withal he told the Vintner plain
+  If he a Tennant be;
+He must expect to pay the same,
+  For he could not sit Rent-free.
+
+But when the Money she had got,
+  She put it in her Purse:
+And clapt her Hand on the Cellar Door,
+  And said it was never the worse:
+Which caused the People all to Laugh,
+  To see this Vintner Fine:
+Out-witted by a Country Girl,
+  About his Pipe of Wine.
+
+
+
+
+_The most Famous_ BALLAD
+
+_Of King_ HENRY _the 5th; his Victory over the_ French _at_ Agencourt.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Councel grave our King did hold,
+  With many a Lord and Knight:
+That he might truly understand,
+  That _France_ did hold his Right.
+
+Unto the King of _France_ therefore,
+  Embassadors he sent;
+That he might truly understand,
+  His Mind and whole Intent.
+
+Desiring him in friendly sort,
+  His lawful Right to yield;
+Or else he swore by dint of Sword,
+  To win it in the Field.
+
+The King of _France_ with all his Lords,
+  Did hear this Message plain;
+And to our brave Embassador,
+  Did answer with Disdain.
+
+And said our King was yet too young,
+  And of but tender Age;
+Therefore they pass not for his Threats,
+  Nor fear not his Courage.
+
+His Knowledge yet in Feats of Arms,
+  As yet is very small;
+His tender Joints more fitter are,
+  To toss a Tennis-ball.
+
+A Tun of Tennis-balls therefore,
+  In Pride and great Disdain;
+He sent unto this Royal King,
+  To recompence his Pain.
+
+Which Answer when our King did hear,
+  He waxed wroth in Heart;
+And swore he would provide such Balls,
+  Should make all _France_ to smart.
+
+An Army then our King did hold,
+  Which was both good and strong;
+And from _Southampton_ is our King,
+  With all his Navy gone.
+
+In _France_ he landed safe and sound,
+  Both he and all his Train;
+And to the Town of _Husle_ then
+  He marched up amain.
+
+Which when he had besieg'd the Town,
+  Against the fenced Walls;
+To batter down the stately Towers,
+  He sent his _English_ Balls.
+
+When this was done our King did march,
+  Then up and down the Land;
+And not a _Frenchman_ for his Life,
+  Durst once his Force withstand.
+
+Until he came to _Agencourt_,
+  Whereas it was his chance;
+To find the King in readiness,
+  With all the Power of _France_.
+
+A mighty Host he had prepar'd,
+  Of Armed Soldiers then;
+Which were no less by just Account,
+  Than Forty Thousand Men.
+
+Which sight did much amaze our King,
+  For he and all his Host;
+Not passing Fifteen Thousand had,
+  Accounted with the most.
+
+The King of _France_ who well did know,
+  The Number of our Men;
+In vaunting Pride and great Disdain,
+  Did send an Herald then:
+
+To understand what he would give,
+  For Ransom of his Life,
+When they in Field had taken him,
+  Amongst the bloody strife.
+
+And when our King with cheerful Heart,
+  This answer then did make;
+Before that it does come to pass,
+  Some of your Hearts will ake.
+
+And to your proud presumptuous King,
+  Declare this thing, quoth he;
+My own Heart's-blood will pay the Price,
+  Nought else he gets of me.
+
+Then spake the noble Duke of _York_,
+  O noble King, quoth he,
+The Leading of this Battle brave,
+  It doth belong to me.
+
+God-a-mercy Cousin _York_, he said,
+  I grant thee thy Request;
+Then lead thou on couragiously,
+  And I will lead the rest.
+
+Then came the bragging _Frenchmen_ down,
+  With cruel Force and Might;
+With whom our Noble King began,
+  A fierce and dreadful Fight.
+
+The Archers they discharg'd their Shafts,
+  As thick as Hail from Skie;
+And many a _Frenchman_ in the Field,
+  That happy Day did die.
+
+Their Horses tumbled on the Stakes,
+  And so their Lives they lost;
+And many a _Frenchman_ there was ta'en,
+  As Prisoners to their cost.
+
+Ten Thousand Men that Day was slain,
+  As Enemies in the Field:
+And eke as many Prisoners,
+  Were forc'd that Day to yield.
+
+Thus had our King a happy Day,
+  And Victory over _France_;
+And brought them quickly under foot
+  That late in Pride did prance.
+
+God save our King, and bless this Land,
+  And grant to him likewise;
+The upper-hand and Victory,
+  Of all his Enemies.
+
+
+
+
+_The Lady_ ISABELLA'S _Tragedy: Or, the Step-Mother's Cruelty._ _To
+the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+There was a Lord of worthy Fame,
+  And a Hunting he would ride,
+Attended by a noble Train,
+  Of Gentry on each side.
+
+And whilst he did in Chace remain,
+  To see both Sport and Play;
+His Lady went as she did feign,
+  Unto the Church to pray.
+
+This Lord he had a Daughter Fair,
+  Whose Beauty shin'd so bright;
+She was belov'd both far and near,
+  Of many a Lord and Knight.
+
+Fair _Isabella_ was she call'd,
+  A Creature Fair was she;
+She was her Father's only Joy,
+  As you shall after see.
+
+But yet her Cruel Step-Mother,
+  Did Envy her so much;
+That Day by Day she sought her Life,
+  Her Malice it was such.
+
+She bargain'd with the Master-Cook,
+  To take her Life away;
+And taking of her Daughter's Book,
+  She thus to her did say.
+
+Go home, sweet Daughter, I thee pray.
+  Go hasten presently;
+And tell unto the Master-Cook,
+  These Words which I tell thee.
+
+And bid him dress to Dinner straight,
+  That fair and milk-white Doe;
+That in the Park doth shine so bright,
+  There's none so fair to show.
+
+This Lady fearing of no harm,
+  Obey'd her Mother's Will;
+And presently she hasted home,
+  Her Mind for to fulfil.
+
+She straight into the Kitchin went,
+  Her Message for to tell,
+And there the Master-Cook she spy'd,
+  Who did with Malice swell.
+
+Now Master-Cook it must be so,
+  Do that which I thee tell;
+You needs must dress the milk-white Doe,
+  Which you do know full well.
+
+Then straight his cruel bloody Hands,
+  He on the Lady laid;
+Who quivering and shaking stands,
+  While thus to her he said:
+
+Thou art the Doe that I must dress,
+  See here, behold my Knife;
+For it is Pointed presently,
+  To rid thee of thy Life.
+
+O then cry'd out the Scullion Boy,
+  As loud as loud might be;
+O save her Life, good Master-Cook,
+  And make your Pies of me?
+
+For pity sake do not destroy
+  My Lady with your Knife;
+You know she is her Father's Joy,
+  For Christ's sake save her Life.
+
+I will not save her Life he said,
+  Nor make my Pies of thee;
+Yet if thou dost this Deed betray,
+  Thy Butcher I will be;
+
+Now when this Lord he did come home,
+  For to sit down to Meat;
+He called for his Daughter dear,
+  To come and carve his Meat.
+
+Now sit you down, his Lady said,
+  O sit you down to Meat;
+Into some Nunnery she's gone,
+  Your Daughter dear forget.
+
+Then solemnly he made a Vow,
+  Before the Company;
+That he would neither eat nor drink,
+  Until he did her see.
+
+O then bespoke the Scullion Boy,
+  With a loud Voice so high;
+If that you will your Daughter see
+  My Lord cut up the Pye.
+
+Wherein her Flesh is minced small,
+  And parched with the Fire;
+All caused by her Step-Mother,
+  Who did her Death desire.
+
+And cursed be the Master-Cook,
+  O cursed may he be!
+I proffer'd him my own Heart's Blood,
+  From Death to set her free.
+
+Then all in Black this Lord did Mourn,
+  And for his Daughter's sake;
+He judged for her Step-Mother,
+  To be burnt at a Stake.
+
+Likewise he judg'd the Master-Cook,
+  In boyling Lead to stand;
+He made the simple Scullion Boy,
+  The Heir to all his Land.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ BALLAD
+
+_In Praise of a certain Commander in the City._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Heroe of no small Renown,
+  But noted for a Man of Mettle;
+Thro' all the Parts of _London_ Town,
+No Gentleman, nor yet a Clown,
+  No grave wise man, nor stupid Beetle.
+
+By many Deeds of Prowess done,
+  He's gain'd a matchless Reputation;
+Perform'd by neither Sword nor Gun,
+But by what means you'll know anon,
+  And how he work'd his Preservation.
+
+Well mounted on a noble Steed,
+  With Sword and Pistol charg'd before him;
+Altho' we must confess indeed,
+Of either Arms there was no need,
+  His Conduct did alone secure him.
+
+With's Wife upon a single Horse,
+  T'wards _Eppin_ both rid out together;
+But what than ill Luck can be worse,
+A High-way-Man of equal Force,
+  Alass, obstructed both their Pleasure.
+
+With Pistol cock'd he made demand,
+  And told them he must have their Money;
+The Major wisely would not stand,
+Nor on his Pistols clap a Hand,
+  He was not such a Fighting Tony.
+
+But spur'd away as swift as Wind,
+  No Elk or Tyger could run faster;
+Was ever Man so stout and kind,
+To leave his frighted Wife behind,
+  Expos'd to such a sad Disaster.
+
+Her Necklace, Cloaths and Diamond Ring,
+  The greedy Robber quickly fell to;
+One Petticoat he let her bring
+Away with Smock, and t'other Thing,
+  To let her noble Heroe smell to.
+
+This Slight bred sad domestick Strife,
+  Altho' the Man's to be commended;
+For what's a loving handsome Wife,
+To a Man's Money or his Life,
+  For all is lost when that is ended.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As the Fryer he went along, and a poring in his Book,
+At last he spy'd a Jolly brown Wench a washing of her Buck,
+
+  Sing, _Stow the Fryer, stow the Fryer_
+  _Some good Man, and let this fair Maid go_.
+
+The Fryer he pull'd out and a Jolly brown T----d
+  as much as he could handle,
+Fair Maid, quoth he, if thou earnest Fire in thy A----
+  come light me this same Candle.
+  Sing, _Stow the Fryer_, &c.
+
+The Maid she sh---- and a Jolly brown T----
+  out of her Jolly brown Hole,
+Good Sir, quoth she, if you will a Candle light
+  come blow me this same Cole.
+  Sing, _Stow the Fryer_, &c.
+
+Part of the Sparks flew into the _North_,
+  and part into the _South_,
+And part of this jolly brown T----
+  flew into the Fryer's Mouth.
+
+  Sing, _Stow the Fryer, stow the Fryer_
+  _Some good Man, and let this fair Maid go_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Lass of_ LYNN'S _sorrowful Lamentation for the Loss of her
+Maiden-Head._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I am a young Lass of _Lynn_,
+  Who often said thank you too;
+My Belly's now almost to my Chin,
+  _I cannot tell what to do_.
+
+My being so free and kind,
+  Does make my Heart to rue;
+The sad Effects of this I find,
+  _And cannot tell what to do_.
+
+My Petticoats which I wore,
+  And likewise my Aprons too;
+Alass, they are all too short before,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+Was ever young Maid so crost,
+  As I who thank'd him too:
+For why, my Maiden-head is lost,
+  _I cannot tell what to do_.
+
+In sorrowful sort I cry'd,
+  And may now for ever rue;
+The Pain lies in my Back and Side,
+  _I cannot tell what to do_.
+
+Alass I was kind and mild,
+  But now the same I rue;
+Having no Father for my Child,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+I took but a Touch in jest,
+  Believe me this is true;
+Yet I have proved, I protest,
+  _And cannot_, &c.
+
+He crav'd my Virginity,
+  And gave me his own in lieu;
+In this I find I was too kind,
+  _And cannot_, &c.
+
+Each Damsel will me degrade,
+  And so will the young Men too;
+I'm neither Widow, Wife, nor Maid,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+A Cradle I must provide,
+  A Chair and Posset too;
+Nay, likewise twenty Things beside,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+When I was a Maiden fair,
+  Such Sorrows I never knew;
+But now my Heart is full of Care,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+Oh what will become of me,
+  My Belly's as big as two;
+'Tis with a Two-legg'd Tympany,
+  _I cannot tell what to do_.
+
+You Lasses that hear my Moan,
+  If you will your Joys renew;
+Besure, while Married, lye alone,
+  _Or else you at length may rue_.
+
+I came of as good a Race,
+  As most is in _Lynn_'s fair Town;
+And cost a great deal bringing up,
+  _But a little Thing laid me down_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Jovial Tinker._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There was a Jovial Tinker,
+Which was a good Ale drinker;
+He never was a Shrinker,
+  Believe me this is true;
+And he came from the wild of _Kent_,
+When all his Money was gone and spent,
+Which made him look like a _Jack-a-Lent_,
+  _And Joan's Ale is new,_
+  _And Joan's Ale is new Boys,_
+  _And Joan's Ale is new._
+
+The Tinker he did settle,
+Most like a Man of Mettle,
+And vow'd to pawn his Kettle,
+  Now mark what did ensue;
+His Neighbours they flock'd in apace,
+To see _Tom Tinker's_ comely Face,
+Where they drank soundly for a space,
+  _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The Cobler and the Broom Man,
+Came next into the Room, Man,
+And said they would drink for boon Man,
+  Let each one take his due;
+But when good Liquor they had found,
+They cast their Caps upon the Ground,
+And so the Tinker he drank round,
+  _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The Rag-Man being weary,
+With the Burden he did carry,
+He swore he would be merry,
+  And spend a Shilling or two;
+And he told his Hostess to her Face,
+The Chimney-corner was his Place,
+And he began to drink apace,
+  _And_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The Pedlar he drew nigher,
+For it was his desire,
+To throw the Rags i'th' Fire,
+  And burn the bundle blue;
+So whilst they drank whole Flashes,
+And threw about the Glasses,
+The Rags were burnt to Ashes,
+  _And_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+
+_The Second_ PART.
+
+And then came in a Hatter,
+To see what was the matter,
+He scorn'd to drink cold Water,
+  Amongst that Jovial Crew;
+And like a Man of Courage stout,
+He took the Quart-Pot by the Snout,
+And never left till all was out,
+  _O_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The Taylor being nimble,
+With Bodkin, Shears and Thimble,
+He did no whit dissemble,
+  I think his name was _True_;
+He said that he was like to choak,
+And he call'd so fast for Lap and Smoak,
+Until he had pawn'd the Vinegar Cloak,
+  _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+Then came a pitiful Porter,
+Which often did resort there,
+Quoth he, I'll shew some Sport here,
+  Amongst the Jovial Crew;
+The Porter he had very bad luck,
+Before that it was ten a Clock,
+The Fool got Drunk, and lost his Frock,
+  _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The bonny brave Shoe-maker,
+A brave Tobacco taker,
+He scorn'd to be a Quaker,
+  I think his Name was _Hugh_;
+He call'd for Liquor in so fast,
+Till he forgot his Awl and Last,
+And up the Reckoning he did cast,
+  _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+And then came in the Weaver,
+You never saw a braver,
+With a Silk Man and a Glover,
+  _Tom Tinker_ for to view;
+And so to welcom him to Town,
+They every Man spent half a Crown,
+And so the Drink went merrily down,
+  _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+Then came a Drunken _Dutchman_,
+And he would have a touch, Man,
+But he soon took too much, Man,
+  Which made them after rue;
+He drank so long as I suppose,
+'Till greasie Drops fell from his Nose,
+And like a Beast befoul'd his Hose,
+  _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+A _Welchman_ he came next, Sir,
+With Joy and Sorrow Mixt, Sir,
+Who being partly vex'd, Sir,
+  He out his Dagger drew;
+Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth _Taffy_ then,
+A _Welchman_ is a Shentleman,
+Come Hostess fill's the other Cann,
+  _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+Thus like to Men of Courage stout,
+Couragiously they drank about,
+Till such time all the Ale was out,
+  As I may tell to you;
+And when the Business was done,
+They every man departed home,
+And promis'd _Joan_ again to come,
+  _When she had Brew'd anew_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Soldiers Fortune: Or, the taking_ Mardyke.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When first _Mardyke_ was made a Prey,
+'Twas Courage that carry'd the Fort away,
+Then do not lose your Valours Prize,
+By gazing on your Mistresses Eyes;
+But put off your Petticoat-parley,
+Potting and sotting, and laughing and quaffing Canary,
+Will make a good Soldier miscarry:
+  And never Travel for true Renown:
+Then turn to your Marshal Mistress,
+Fair _Minerva_ the Soldier's Sister is;
+Rallying and sallying, with gashing and slashing of Wounds Sir,
+With turning and burning of Towns, Sir,
+  Is a high step to a great Man's Throne.
+
+Let bold _Bellona's_ Brewer frown,
+And his Tunn shall overflow the Town;
+And give the Cobler Sword and Fate:
+And a Tinker may trapan the State;
+Such Fortunate Foes as these be,
+Turn'd the Crown to a Cross at _Naseby_:
+Father and Mother, Sister and Brother confounded,
+And many a good Family wounded;
+  By a terrible turn of Fate,
+He that can kill a Man, thunder and plunder the Town, Sir,
+And pull his Enemies down, Sir,
+  In time may be an Officer great.
+
+It is the Sword does order all,
+  Makes Peasants rise, and Princes fall;
+All Sylogisms in vain are spilt,
+  No Logick like a Basket-hilt:
+  It handles 'em joint by joint Sir,
+Quilling and drilling, and spilling, and Killing profoundly,
+Until the Disputers on Ground lie,
+  And have never a word to say;
+Unless it be Quarter, Quarter, Truth is confuted by a Carter,
+By stripping and nipping, and ripping and quipping Evasions,
+Doth Conquer a Power of Perswasions,
+  _Aristotle_ hath lost the Day.
+
+The Musket bears so great a force,
+To Learning it has no Remorse;
+The Priest, the Layman, the Lord,
+Find no distinction from the Sword;
+Tan tarra, Tan tarra the Trumpet,
+  Now the Walls begin to crack,
+The Councellors struck dumb too,
+By the Parchment upon the Drum too;
+Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub an Alarum,
+  Each Corporal now can out-dare 'em,
+  Learned _Littleton_ goes to rack.
+
+Then since the Sword so bright doth shine,
+We'll leave our Wenches and our Wine,
+And follow _Mars_ where-e'er he runs,
+And turn our Pots and Pipes to Guns.
+The Bottles shall be Grenadoes,
+We'll bounce about the Bravado's
+By huffing and puffing, and snuffing and cuffing the _French_ Boys,
+Whose Brows have been dy'd in a Trench Boys;
+  Well got Fame is a Warriour's Wife,
+The Drawer shall be the Drummer,
+We'll be Colonels all next Summer
+By hiking and tilting, and pointing and jointing like brave Boys,
+We shall have Gold or a Grave, Boys,
+  And there's an end of a Soldier's Life.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ MISSES _Complaint._
+
+_Tune_, Packington's Pound.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How now Sister _Betteris_, why look you so sad?
+_Gillian._ The times are so hard and our trading so bad,
+That we in our Function no Money can gain,
+Our Pride and our Bravery for to maintain.
+
+_Bett._ True Sister, _Gillian_, I know it full well,
+But what will you say if such News I do tell?
+And how't will rejoyce you, I'll make it out plain,
+Will make our Trade quick, and more Money will gain.
+
+There's none of the pitiful Tribe we'll be for,
+And Six-penny Customers we will abhor;
+For all those that will our Dominions invade,
+Must pay for their sauce, we must live by our Trade.
+
+_Gil._ Good Sister if you can make this but appear,
+My Spirit and Senses you greatly will chear,
+But a Famine of Flesh will bring all things to pass,
+Or else we are as bad still as ever we was.
+
+_Bett._ Lately a Counsel of Bauds there did meet,
+In _Cock_ and _Pye_ Alley, near _Do-little_ Street:
+And who was the Counsel, and what was there done;
+I'll make it out to you as clear as the Sun.
+
+From _Ratcliffe-highway_, and from _Nightingale-lane_,
+Their Deputies come with a very fine Train:
+Unto these two Couple come long sided _Sue_,
+Is as good as e'er twang'd, if you give her her due.
+
+Then _Tower-Ditch_ and _Hatton-Wall_ sent in their Prayers,
+And drest as compleatly as Horses to Fairs;
+With them Jumping _Jenny_ appear'd, as 'tis said,
+Who ne'er in her Life of a Man was afraid.
+
+The two Metropolitans came from the Park,
+As arch at the Game, as e'er plaid in the Dark;
+Then _Lutener's_-lane a gay Couple did bring,
+Two better, I think, was ne'er stretch'd in hemp-string.
+
+There was many others from Places remote,
+The which were too tedious for me here to note;
+And what was their Business I here will declare,
+How to keep our Trade in Repute they take care.
+
+And first for those Ladies that walk in the Night,
+Their Aprons and Handkerchiefs they should be white,
+And that they do walk more in Town than in Fields,
+For that is the Place most Variety yields.
+
+And those that are over-much worn by their Trade,
+Shall go in a Vessel, their Passage being paid;
+The Venture of Cuckolds, 'tis called by Name,
+And this is the way for to keep up our Fame.
+
+And this is the Ship which the Cuckolds have brought,
+It lies at their Haven, and is to be frought:
+And thither Whores rampant, that please may repair,
+With Master and Captain to truck for their Ware.
+
+And for a Supply that our trade may increase,
+For wanton Commodity it will grow less;
+We'll visit the Carriers, and take them up there,
+And then for their Tutering we will take care.
+
+In this we shall ease all the Countries to do't,
+And do our selves Pleasure and Profit to boot;
+For one that is crack'd in the Country before,
+In _London_ will make a spick and span Whore.
+
+There's many more Precepts which they did advise,
+But these which I'll give you here shall suffice:
+And when you have heard them, I think you will say,
+We ne'er were more likely to thrive in our way.
+
+
+_Some Orders agreed upon at a General Consultation of the_ Sisterhood
+_of_ Nightingale-lane, Ratcliff-high-way, Tower-Ditch, Rose-mary-lane,
+Hatton-Wall, Saffron-hill, Wetstone's-Park, Lutener's-lane, _and other
+Places adjacent, for the general Encouragement and Advancement of
+their Occupation._
+
+I.
+
+_That no_ Night-walker _presume to go without a White Apron and
+Handkerchief, the better to be seen._
+
+II.
+
+_To keep due Time and Hours, for fear of the Constable and his Watch._
+
+III.
+
+_That those which are over-worn, cast off and cashier'd, do repair to
+the Ship called_ (the Cuckolds Venture) _now riding at_ Cuckolds
+Haven, _thence to be transported over-Sea, to have their Breeches
+repaired._
+
+IV.
+
+_That a due care be taken to visit the Carriers for crack'd
+Maidenheads, for the use and increase of our Occupation._
+
+V.
+
+_That all honest Women belonging to either_ Wittals _or_ Cuckolds, _be
+admitted to the principal Places in this Ship._
+
+VI.
+
+_And lastly, for the better State and Magnificence of the honourable
+Corporation of_ W----es, _'tis order'd that a Chariot be made to be
+drawn by_ Cuckolds, _the_ Cuckold-makers _to drive, and the_ Wittals
+_to ride._
+
+
+
+
+_The well approved Doctor:_
+
+_Or, an Infallible Cure for_ CUCKOLDS. _To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+There is a fine Doctor now come to Town,
+Whose practice in Physick hath gain'd him Renown,
+In curing of Cuckolds he hath the best Skill,
+By giving one Dose of his approved Pill.
+
+His Skill is well known, and his Practice is great,
+Then come to the Doctor before 'tis too late;
+His Med'cines are safe, and the Doctor is sure,
+He takes none in Hand but he perfects, the Cure.
+
+The Doctor himself he doth freely unfold,
+That he can Cure Cuckolds tho' never so old;
+He helps this Distemper in all sorts of Men,
+At Forty and Fifty, yea, Threescore and Ten.
+
+There was an old Man lived near to the _Strand_,
+Decripid and Feeble, scarce able to stand;
+Who had been a Cuckold full Forty long Years,
+But hearing of this how he prick'd up his Ears.
+
+Away to the Doctor he went with all speed,
+Where he struck a bargain, they soon were agreed;
+He cured his Forehead that nothing was seen,
+And now he's as brisk as a Youth of Fifteen.
+
+Now this being known, how his Fame it did ring,
+And unto the Doctor much trading did bring;
+They came to the Doctor out of e'ery Shire,
+From all Parts and Places, yea both far and near.
+
+Both _Dutchmen_ and _Scotchmen_ to _London_ did ride,
+With _Shonny-ap-Morgan_, and Thousands beside;
+Thus all sorts and sizes, both rich Men and poor,
+They came in whole Cart-loads to this Doctor's door.
+
+Some whining, some weeping, some careful and sad,
+And some was contented, and others born mad;
+Some crooked, some straight Horns, and some overgrown,
+The like in all Ages I think was ne'er known.
+
+Some rich and brave flourishing Cuckolds were there,
+That came in whole Droves, Sir, as if to _Horn-Fair_;
+For now there is hopes to be cur'd of their Grief,
+The Doctor declares in the Fall of the Leaf.
+
+Let none be so foolish as now to neglect,
+This Doctor's great Kindness and civil Respect;
+Tho' rich Men may pay, yet the Poor may go free,
+So kind and so courteous a Doctor is he.
+
+'Tis known he so worthy a Conscience doth make,
+Poor Cuckolds he'll cure them for Charity sake;
+Nay, farther than this still his Love does enlarge,
+Providing for them at his own Cost and Charge.
+
+But some are so wicked, that they will exclaim
+Against their poor Wives, making 'em bare the Blame;
+And will not look out in the least for a Cure,
+But all their sad Pains and their Tortures endure.
+
+But 'tis without reason, for he that is born
+Under such a Planet, is Heir to the Horn:
+Then come to the Doctor both rich Men and Poor,
+He'll carefully cure you, what would you have more?
+
+The Term of his Time here the Doctor does write,
+From six in the Morning 'till seven at Night;
+Where in his own Chamber he still will remain,
+At the Sign of the _Woodcock_ in _Vinegar-lane_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Doctor doth here likewise present you with the Receipt of his
+Infallible Medicine, that those which have no occasion for it
+themselves, may do good to their Neighbours and Acquaintances: And
+take it here as followeth._
+
+
+Take five Pound of Brains of your _December_ Flies,
+And forty true Tears from a _Crocodile's_ Eyes;
+The Wit of a _Weasel_, the Wool of a _Frog_,
+With an Ounce of Conserve of _Michaelmas_ Fog.
+
+And make him a Poultis when he goes to Bed,
+To bind to his Temples behind of his Head;
+As hot as the Patient he well can endure,
+And this is for Cuckolds an absolute Cure.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+Good Neighbour why do you look awry,
+  You are a wond'rous Stranger;
+You walk about, you huff and pout,
+  As if you'd burst with Anger:
+Is it for that your Fortune's great,
+  Or you so Wealthy are?
+Or live so high there's none a-nigh
+  That can with you compare?
+But t'other Day I heard one say,
+  Your Husband durst not show his Ears,
+But like a Lout does walk about,
+  So full of Sighs and Fears:
+Good Mrs. _Tart_, I caren't a Fart,
+  For you nor all your Jears.
+
+My Husband's known for to be one,
+  That is most Chast and pure;
+And so would be continually,
+  But for such Jades as you are:
+You wash, you lick, you smug, you trick,
+  You toss a twire a grin;
+You nod and wink, and in his Drink,
+  You strive to draw him in:
+You Lie you Punck, you're always Drunk,
+  And now you Scold and make a Strife,
+And like a Whore you run o' th' Score,
+  And lead him a weary Life;
+Tell me so again you dirty Quean,
+  And I'll pull you by the Quoif.
+
+Go dress those Brats, those nasty Rats,
+  That have a Lear so drowzy;
+With Vermin spread they look like Dead,
+  Good Faith they're always Lousie:
+Pray hold you there, and do not swear,
+  You are not half so sweet;
+You feed yours up with bit and sup,
+  And give them a dirty Teat:
+My Girls, my Boys, my only Joys,
+  Are better fed and taught than yours;
+You lie you Flirt, you look like Dirt,
+  And I'll kick you out of Doors;
+A very good Jest, pray do your best,
+  And Faith I'll quit your Scores.
+
+Go, go you are a nasty Bear,
+  Your Husband cannot bear it;
+A nasty Quean as e'er was seen,
+  Your Neighbours all can swear it:
+A fulsome Trot and good for nought,
+  Unless it be to chat;
+You stole a Spoon out of the Room,
+  Last Christning you were at:
+You lye you Bitch you've got the Itch,
+  Your Neighbours know you are not sound;
+Look how you Claw with your nasty Paw,
+  And I'll fell you to the Ground;
+You've tore my Hood, you shall make it good
+  If it cost me Forty Pound.
+
+
+
+
+_The Jovial_ COBLER _of St._ Hellens.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I am a jovial Cobler bold and brave,
+And as for Employment enough I have:
+For to keep jogging my Hammer and Awl,
+  _Whilst I sit Singing and Whistling in my Stall,_
+  _Stall, Stall, whilst I sit Singing and Whistling in my Stall._
+
+But there's _Dick_ the Carman, and _Hodge_ who drives the Dray
+For Sixteen, or Eighteen Pence a Day,
+Slave in the Dirt, whilst I with my Awl,
+  _Get more Money, sitting, sitting in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's _Tom_ the Porter, Companion of the Pot,
+Who stands in the Street with his Rope and Knot,
+Waiting at a Corner to hear who will him call,
+  _Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's the jolly Broom-man, his Bread for to get,
+Crys Brooms up and down in the open Street,
+And one crys broken Glasses tho' ne'er so small,
+  _Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's another gang of poor smutty Souls,
+Doth trudge up and down to cry Small-coals;
+With a Sack on their Back, at a Door stand and call,
+  _Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's another sort of Notes,
+Who crys up and down old Suits and Coats;
+And perhaps some Days get nothing at all,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's the Jolly Cooper with his Hoops at his Back,
+Who trudgeth up and down to see who lack
+Their Casks to be made tite, with Hoops great and small,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's a Jolly Tinker that loves a bonny Lass,
+Who trudges up and down to mend old Brass;
+With his long smutty Punch to force holes withal,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there is another old _Tom Terrah_,
+Who up and down the City drives his Barrow;
+To sell his Fruit both great and small,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there is the Blind and Lame, with a Wooden Leg,
+Who up and down the City they forced are to beg
+Some Crumbs of Comfort, the which are but small,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's a gang of Wenches who Oysters sell,
+And Powder _Moll_ with her sweet smell;
+She trudges up and down with Powder and Ball,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's the jovial Girls with their Milking-Pails,
+Who trudge up and down with their Draggle Tails:
+Flip flapping at their Heels for Custom they call,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+'Tis these are the Gang who take great Pain,
+And it is those who do me maintain;
+But when it blows and rains I do pity them all,
+_To see them trudge about while I am in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's many more who slave and toil,
+Their living to get, but it is not worth while,
+To mention them, so I'll sing in my Stall,
+  _I am the happiest Mortal, Mortal of them all,_
+  _All, all, I am the happiest Mortal, Mortal of them all._
+
+
+
+
+_The Merchant and the Fidler's_ WIFE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+It was a Rich Merchant Man,
+  That had both Ship and all;
+And he would cross the salt Seas,
+  Tho' his cunning it was but small.
+
+The Fidler and his Wife,
+  They being nigh at hand;
+Would needs go sail along with him,
+  From _Dover_ unto _Scotland_.
+
+The Fidler's Wife look'd brisk,
+  Which made the Merchant smile;
+He made no doubt to bring it about,
+  The Fidler to beguile.
+
+Is this thy Wife the Merchant said,
+  She looks like an honest Spouse;
+Ay that she is, the Fidler said,
+  That ever trod on Shoes.
+
+Thy Confidence is very great,
+  The Merchant then did say;
+If thou a Wager darest to bet,
+  I'll tell thee what I will lay.
+
+I'll lay my Ship against thy Fiddle,
+  And all my Venture too;
+So _Peggy_ may gang along with me,
+  My Cabin for to View.
+
+If she continues one Hour with me,
+  Thy true and constant Wife;
+Then shalt thou have my Ship and be,
+  A Merchant all thy Life.
+
+The Fidler was content,
+  He Danc'd and Leap'd for joy;
+And twang'd his Fiddle in merriment,
+  For _Peggy_ he thought was Coy.
+
+Then _Peggy_ she went along,
+  His Cabin for to View;
+And after her the Merchant-Man,
+  Did follow, we found it true.
+
+When they were once together,
+  The Fidler was afraid;
+For he crep'd near in pitious fear,
+  And thus to _Peggy_ he said.
+
+Hold out, sweet _Peggy_ hold out,
+  For the space of two half Hours;
+If thou hold out, I make no doubt,
+  But the Ship and Goods are ours.
+
+In troth, sweet _Robin_, I cannot,
+  He hath got me about the Middle;
+He's lusty and strong, and hath laid me along,
+  O _Robin_ thou'st lost thy Fiddle.
+
+If I have lost my Fiddle,
+  Then am I a Man undone;
+My Fiddle whereon I so often play'd,
+  Away I needs must run.
+
+O stay the Merchant said,
+  And thou shalt keep thy place;
+And thou shalt have thy Fiddle again,
+  But _Peggy_ shall carry the Case.
+
+Poor _Robin_ hearing that,
+  He look'd with a Merry-chear;
+His wife she was pleas'd, and the Merchant was eas'd,
+  And jolly and brisk they were.
+
+The Fidler he was mad,
+  But valu'd it not a Fig;
+Then _Peggy_ unto her Husband said,
+  Kind _Robin_ play us a Jigg.
+
+Then he took up his Fiddle,
+  And merrily he did play;
+The _Scottish Jigg_ and the _Horn pipe_,
+  And eke the _Irish Hey_.
+
+It was but in vain to grieve,
+  The Deed it was done and past;
+Poor _Robin_ was born to carry the Horn,
+  For _Peggy_ could not be Chast.
+
+Then Fidlers all beware,
+  Your Wives are kind you see;
+And he that's made for the Fidling Trade,
+  Must never a Merchant be.
+
+For _Peggy_ she knew right well,
+  Although she was but a Woman;
+That Gamesters Drink, and Fidlers Wives,
+  They are ever Free and Common.
+
+
+
+
+_The Unconstant_ WOMAN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Did you not hear of a gallant Sailor,
+  Whose Pockets they were lin'd with Gold;
+He fell in Love with a pretty Creature,
+  As I to you the Truth unfold:
+With a kind Salute, and without Dispute,
+  He thought to gain her for his own,
+_Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,_
+  _She has gone and left me all alone._
+
+Don't you remember my pretty _Peggy_,
+  The Oaths and Vows which you made to me:
+All in the Chamber we were together,
+  That you would ne'er unconstant be:
+But you prove strange Love, and from me range,
+  And leave me here to Sigh and Moan;
+_Unconstant Woman is true to no Man,_
+  _She's gone and left me all alone._
+
+As I have Gold you shall have Treasure,
+  Or any dainty kind of thing;
+Thou may'st command all Delights and Pleasure,
+  And what you'd have, Love, I would you bring:
+But you prove shy, and at last deny,
+  Him that admires you alone;
+_Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,_
+  _She's left me here to make my moan._
+
+When first I saw your charming Beauty,
+  I stood like one all in amaze;
+I study'd only how to pay Duty,
+  And could not speak but only gaze,
+At last said I, fair Maid comply,
+  And ease a wretched Lover's Moan;
+_Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,_
+  _She's gone and left me here alone._
+
+I made her Presents of Rings and Jewels,
+  With Diamond Stones I gave her too;
+She took them kindly, and call'd me Jewel,
+  And said her Love to me was true:
+But in the end she prov'd unkind,
+  When I thought she had been my own;
+_Unconstant Woman_, &c.
+
+For three Months time we saw each other,
+  And she oft said she'd be my Wife;
+I had her Father's Consent and Mother,
+  I thought to have liv'd a happy Life:
+She'd laugh and toy both Night and Day,
+  But at length she chang'd her Tone;
+_Unconstant Woman, proves true to no Man,_
+  _She's left me now to make my Moan._
+
+Many a time we have walk'd together,
+  Both Hand in Hand to an Arbour green;
+Where Tales of Love in Sun-shiny Weather,
+  We did discourse and were not seen:
+With a kind Salute we did dispute,
+  While we together were alone:
+_Unconstant Woman she's true to no Man,_
+  _She's gone and left me here alone._
+
+Since _Peggy_ has my kindness slighted,
+  I'll never trust a Woman more;
+'Twas in her alone I e'er delighted,
+  But since she's false I'll leave the Shoar:
+In Ship I'll enter, on Seas I'll venture,
+  And sail the World where I'm not known:
+_Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,_
+  _She's gone and left me here alone._
+
+
+
+
+_Sorrow banish'd in a_ MUG. _The Words_ _by Sir_ Edward Morgan.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+If Sorrow the Tyrant invade thy Breast,
+  Haul out the foul Fiend by the Lug, the Lug,
+Let nought of to morrow disturb thy Rest,
+  But dash out his Brains with a Mug, a Mug.
+If Business unluckily goes not well,
+  Let the fond Fools their Affections hug,
+To shew our Allegiance we'll go to the Bell,
+  And banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+If thy Wife proves not one of the Best, the Best,
+  But admits no time but to think, to think;
+Or the weight of thy Forehead bow down thy Crest,
+  Divert the dull _Damon_ with Drink, with Drink,
+If Miss prove peevish and will not gee,
+  Ne'er pine, ne'er pine at the wanton Pug,
+But find out a fairer, a kinder than she,
+  And banish Dispair in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+If dear Assignation be crost, be crost,
+  And Mistress go home in a rage, a rage;
+Let not thy poor Heart like a Ship be tost,
+  But with a brisk Brimmer engage, engage:
+What if the fine Fop and the Mask fall out.
+  And the one Hug, and t'other Tug,
+While they pish and fie, we will frolick in Stout,
+  And banish all Care in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+If toying young _Damon_ by _Sylvia's_ Charms,
+  At length should look pale and perplexed be;
+To cure the Distemper and ease those harms,
+  Go straight to the _Globe_ and ask Number three:
+There beauties like _Venus_ thou canst not lack,
+  Be kind to them, they will sweetly hug;
+There's choice of the Fairest, the Brown or the Black.
+  Then banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+Let then no Misfortune e'er make thee dull,
+  But drink away care in a Jug, a Jug;
+Then let not thy Tide steal away, but pull,
+  Carouse away though in a Mug, a Mug:
+While others for Greatness and Fortune's doom,
+  While they for their Ambition tug;
+We'll sit close and snug in a Sea-coal Room,
+  And banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+Let Zealots o'er Coffee new Plots devise,
+  And lace with fresh Treason the Pagan Drug;
+Whilst our Loyal Blood flows our Veins shall shine,
+  Like our Faces inspir'd with a Mug, a Mug:
+Let Sectaries dream of Alarms, Alarms,
+  And Fools still for new changes tug;
+While fam'd for our Loyalty we'll stand to our Arms,
+  And drink the King's Health in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+Come then to the Queen let the next Advance,
+  And all Loyal Lads of true _English_ Race;
+Who hate the stum Poison of _Spain_ and _France_,
+  Or to _Bourdeux_ or _Burgundy_ do give place;
+The Flask and the Bottle breeds Ach and Gout,
+  Whilst we, we all the Season lie snug;
+Neither _Spaniard_ nor _Flemming_, can vie with our Stout,
+  And shall submit to the Mug, the Mug.
+
+
+
+
+_The Good Fellow. Words by Mr._ Alex. Brome.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+      Stay, stay, shut the Gates,
+      T'other Quart, faith, it is not so late
+        As you're thinking,
+    Those Stars which you see,
+    In this Hemisphere be,
+  But the Studs in your Cheeks by your Drinking:
+The Sun is gone to Tiple all Night in the Sea Boys,
+To Morrow he'll blush that he's paler than we Boys,
+Drink Wine, give him Water, 'tis Sack makes us jee Boys.
+
+    Fill, fill up the Glass,
+    To the next merry Lad let it pass,
+        Come away with't:
+    Come Set Foot to Foot,
+    And but give our Minds to't,
+  'Tis Heretical Six that doth slay Wit,
+No Helicon like to the Juice of the Vine is,
+For _Phoebus_ had never had Wit, nor Diviness,
+Had his Face been bow dy'd as thine, his, and mine is.
+
+    Drink, drink off your Bowls,
+    We'll enrich both our Heads and our Souls
+        With Canary;
+    A Carbuncled Face,
+    Saves a tedious Race,
+  For the _Indies_ about us we carry:
+Then hang up good Faces, we'll drink till our Noses
+Give freedom to speak what our Fancy disposes,
+Beneath whose protection is under the Roses.
+
+    This, this must go round,
+    Off your Hats, till that the Pavement be Crown'd
+        With your Beavers;
+    A Red-coated Face,
+    Frights a Searjeant at Mace,
+  And the Constable trembles to shivers:
+In state march our Faces like those of the _Quorum_,
+When the Wenches fall down and the Vulgar adore'em,
+And our Noses, like Link-boys, run shining before'em.
+
+
+
+
+_The Nymphs Holiday. The Tune of the Nightingale._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Upon a Holiday, when Nymphs had leave to play,
+I walk'd unseen, on a pleasant Green,
+Where I heard a Maid in an angry Spleen,
+Complaining to a Swain, to leave his drudging Pain,
+And sport with her upon the Plain;
+    But he the silly Clown,
+Regardless of her Moan, did leave her all alone,
+  Still she cry'd, come away, come away bonny Lad come away,
+I cannot come, I will not come, I cannot come, my
+    Work's not done,
+  Was all the Words this Clown did say.
+
+She vex'd in her Mind to hear this Lad's reply,
+To _Venus_ she went, in great Discontent,
+To desire her Boy with his Bow ready bent,
+To take a nimble Dart, and strike him to the Heart,
+For disobeying her Commandment:
+    _Cupid_ then gave the Swain such a Bang,
+As made him to gang with this bonny Lass along,
+  Still she cry'd, come away, come away bonny Lad, come hither,
+I come, I come, I come, I come, I come, I come,
+  So they gang'd along together.
+
+
+
+
+_Good Honest Trooper take warning by_ DONALD COOPER. _To the Tune of_
+Daniel Cooper.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Bonny Lad came to the Court,
+  His Name was _Donald Cooper_,
+And he Petition'd to the King,
+  That he might be a Trooper:
+      He said that he,
+      By Land and Sea,
+Had fought to Admiration,
+      And with _Montross_
+      Had many blows,
+Both for his King and Nation.
+
+The King did his Petition grant,
+  And said he lik'd him dearly,
+Which gave to _Donald_ more content,
+  Than Twenty Shillings yearly:
+      This wily Leard
+      Rode in the Guard,
+And lov'd a strong Beer Barrel;
+      Yet stout enough,
+      To Fight and Cuff,
+But was not given to Quarrel.
+
+Till on a _Saturday_ at Night,
+  He walked in the Park, Sir;
+And there he kenn'd a well fair Lass,
+  When it was almost dark, Sir;
+      Poor _Donald_ he
+      Drew near to see,
+And kist her bonny Mow, Sir;
+      He laid her flat
+      Upon her back,
+And bang'd her side Weam too, Sir.
+
+He took her by the Lilly white Hand,
+  And kiss'd his bonny _Mary_,
+Then they did to the Tavern go,
+  Where they did drink Canary;
+      When he was Drunk,
+      In came a Punck,
+And ask'd gan he would Mow her;
+      Then he again,
+      With Might and Main,
+Did bravely lay her o'er, Sir.
+
+Poor _Donald_ he rose up again,
+  As nothing did him ail, Sir;
+But little kenn'd this bonny Lass,
+  Had Fire about her Tail, Sir:
+      When Night was spent
+      Then Home he went,
+And told it with a Hark, Sir;
+      How he did Kiss
+      A dainty Miss,
+And lifted up the Sark, Sir.
+
+But e'er a Month had gone about,
+Poor _Donald_ walked sadly:
+And every yean enquir'd of him,
+  What gar'd him leuk so badly:
+      A Wench, quoth he,
+      Gave Snuff to me,
+Out of her Placket box, Sir;
+      And I am sure,
+      She prov'd a Whore,
+And given to me the Pox, Sir.
+
+Poor _Donald_ he being almost Dead,
+  Was turn'd out of the Guard, Sir;
+And never could get in again,
+  Although he was a Leard, Sir:
+      When _Mars_ doth meet,
+      With _Venus_ sweet,
+And struggles to surrender;
+      The Triumph's lost,
+      Then never trust
+A Feminine Commander.
+
+Poor _Donald_ he went home again,
+  Because he lost his Place, Sir;
+For playing of a Game at Whisk,
+  And turning up an Ace, Sir;
+      Ye Soldiers all,
+      Both great and small,
+A Foot-man or a Trooper;
+      When you behold,
+      A Wench that's bold
+Remember _Donald Cooper_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Jovial Drinker._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Pox on those Fools, who exclaim against Wine,
+  And fly the dear sweets that the Bottle doth bring;
+It heightens the Fancy, the Wit does refine,
+  And he that was first Drunk was made the first King.
+
+By the help of good Claret old Age becomes Youth,
+  And sick Men still find this the only Physitian;
+Drink largely, you'll know by experience, the Truth,
+  That he that drinks most is the best Politician.
+
+To Victory this leads on the brave Cavalier,
+  And makes all the Terrors of War, but Delight;
+This flushes his Courage, and beats off base Fear,
+  'Twas that taught _Cæsar_ and _Pompey_ to fight.
+
+This supports all our Friends, and knocks down our Foes,
+  This makes us all Loyal Men from Courtier to Clown;
+Like _Dutchmen_ from Brandy, from this our Strength grows
+  So 'tis Wine, noble Wine, that's a Friend to the Crown.
+
+
+
+
+_The Sexton's_ SONG.
+
+_Sung by_ BEN. JOHNSON, _in the Play of_ Hamlet _Prince of_ Denmark,
+_acting the_ _Grave maker._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Once more to these Arms my lov'd Pick-ax and Spade,
+With the rest of the Tools that belong to my Trade;
+I that Buried others am rose from the Dead,
+  _With a Ring, a Ring, Ring, a Ring, and Dig a Dig, Dig._
+
+My Thoughts are grown easie, my Mind is at rest,
+Since Things at the worst are now grown to the best,
+And I and the Worms that long fasted shall Feast,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+How I long to be Measuring and cleaving the Ground,
+And commending the Soil for the Sculls shall be found,
+Whose thickness alone, not the Soil makes them sound,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+Look you Masters, I'll cry, may the Saints ne'er me save,
+If this ben't as well contriv'd sort of a Grave,
+As a Man could wish on such occasion to have,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+Observe but the make of't, I'll by you be try'd,
+And the Coffin so fresh there that lies on that side,
+It's Fifty Years since he that owns it has dy'd.
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+I hope to remember your Friend in a Bowl,
+An honest good Gentleman, God rest his Soul,
+He has that for a Ducket is worth a Pistole,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+At Marriages next I'll affirm it and swear,
+If the Bride would be private so great was my Care,
+That not a Soul knew that the Priest joyn'd the Pair,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+When I myself whisper'd and told it about
+What Door they'd go in at, what Door they'd go out,
+To receive the Salutes of the Rabble and Rout,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+At Chris'nings I'll sit with abundance of Joy,
+And Drink to the Health of the Girl or the Boy,
+At the same I wish that Fate both would destroy,
+  _That I may Ring_, &c.
+
+What e'er's my Religion, my Meaning's to Thrive,
+So the Child that is born, to the Font but survive,
+No matter how short it's continuance alive,
+  _That I may Ring_, &c.
+
+Hear then my good Neighbours attend to my cry,
+And bravely get Children, and decently die,
+No Sexton now breathing shall use you as I,
+  _With a Ring a Ring, Ring a Ring, Dig a Dig, Dig._
+
+
+
+
+_The Great_ BOOBEE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+My Friend if you would understand,
+  My Fortunes what they are;
+I once had Cattle House and Land,
+  But now I am never the near:
+My Father left a good Estate,
+  As I may tell to thee;
+I couzened was of all I had,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+I went to School with a good intent,
+  And for to learn my Book;
+And all the Day I went to play,
+  In it I never did look:
+Full seven Years, or very nigh,
+  As I may tell to thee;
+I could hardly say my Criss-Cross-Row,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+My Father then in all the hast,
+  Did set me to the Plow;
+And for to lash the Horse about,
+  Indeed I knew not how:
+My Father took his Whip in Hand,
+  And soundly lashed me;
+He called me Fool and Country Clown,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+But I did from my Father run,
+  For I would Plow no more;
+Because he had so lashed me,
+  And made my sides so sore:
+But I will go to _London_ Town,
+  Some Fashions for to see;
+When I came there they call'd me Clown,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+But as I went along the Street,
+  I carried my Hat in my Hand,
+And to every one that I did meet,
+  I bravely Buss'd my Hand:
+Some did laugh, and some did scoff,
+  And some did mock at me;
+And some did say I was a Woodcock,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+Then I did walk in hast to _Paul's_
+  The Steeple for to view;
+Because I heard some People say,
+  It should be builded new;
+Then I got up unto the Top,
+  The City for to see;
+It was so high it made me cry,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+From thence I went to _Westminster_,
+  And for to see the Tombs:
+Oh, said I, what a House is here,
+  With an infinite sight of Rooms:
+Sweetly the Abby Bells did Ring,
+  It was a fine sight to see;
+Methought I was going to Heav'n in a String,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+But as I went along the Street,
+  The most part of the Day;
+Many Gallants I did meet,
+  Methought they were very gay:
+I blew my Nose and pist my Hose,
+  Some People did me see:
+They said I was a Beastly Fool:
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+Next Day I thro' _Pye-corner_ past,
+  The Roast-meat on the Stall;
+Invited me to take a Taste,
+  My Money was but small:
+The Meat I pickt, the Cook me kickt,
+  As I may tell to thee;
+He beat me sore and made me roar,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+As I thro' _Smithfield_ lately walkt,
+  A gallant Lass I met:
+Familiarly with me she talk't,
+  Which I cannot forget:
+She proferr'd me a Pint of Wine,
+  Methought she was wondrous free,
+To the Tavern then I went with her,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+She told me we were near of Kin,
+  And call'd for Wine good store;
+Before the Reckoning was brought in,
+  My Cousin prov'd a Whore:
+My Purse she pickt, and went away,
+  My Cousin couzened me,
+The Vintner kickt me out of Door;
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+At the _Exchange_ when I came there,
+  I saw most gallant things;
+I thought the Pictures living were,
+  Of all our English Kings:
+I doft my Hat and made a Leg,
+  And kneeled on my Knee;
+The People laugh'd and call'd me Fool,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+To _Paris-Garden_ then I went,
+  Where there is great resort;
+My Pleasure was my Punishment,
+  I did not like the Sport:
+The Garden-Bull with his stout Horns,
+  On high then tossed me;
+I did bewray my self with fear,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+The Bearward went to save me then,
+  The People flock'd about;
+I told the Bear-Garden-Men,
+  My Guts they were almost out:
+They said I stunk most grievously,
+  No Man would pity me;
+They call'd me witless Fool and Ass,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+Then o'er the water I did pass,
+  As you shall understand;
+I dropt into the Thames, alass,
+  Before I came to Land:
+The Waterman did help me out,
+  And thus did say to me;
+'Tis not thy fortune to be drown'd,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+But I have learned so much Wit,
+  Shall shorten all my Cares;
+If I can but a Licence get,
+  To play before the Bears:
+'Twould be a gallant Place indeed,
+  As I may tell to thee:
+Then who dares call me Fool or Ass,
+  _Or great Boobee_.
+
+
+
+
+_Set by Mr._ Jeremiah Clark,
+
+_Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When Maids live to Thirty, yet never repented,
+When _Europe's_ at Peace and all _England_ contented,
+When Gamesters won't Swear, and no bribery thrives,
+Young Wives love old Husbands, young Husbands old Wives;
+When Landlords love Taxes, and Soldiers love Peace:
+And Lawyers forget a rich Client to Fleece:
+When an old Face shall please as well as a new,
+Wives, Husbands, and Lovers will ever be true.
+
+When Bullies leave huffing and Cowards their Trembling,
+And Courtiers and Women and Priests their Dissembling,
+When these shall do nothing against what they teach,
+Pluralities hate, and we mind what they Preach:
+When Vintners leave Brewing to draw the Wine pure,
+And Quacks by their Medicines kill less than they Cure,
+When an old Face shall please as well as a new,
+Wives, Husbands and Lovers will ever be true.
+
+
+
+
+_Words to a Tune of_ Mr. BARRET'S, _call'd the_ CATHERINE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In the pleasant Month of _May_,
+  When the merry, merry Birds began to sing;
+And the Blossoms fresh and gay;
+  Usher'd in the welcome Spring,
+      When the long cold Winter's gone,
+      And the bright enticing Moon,
+      In the Evening sweetly shon:
+When the bonny Men and Maids tript it on the Grass;
+      At a jolly Country Fair,
+      When the Nymphs in the best appear;
+We resolv'd to be free, with a Fiddle and a She,
+  E'ery Shepherd and his Lass.
+
+In the middle of the Sport,
+  When the Fiddle went brisk and the Glass went round,
+And the Pretty gay Nymphs for Court,
+  With their Merry Feet beat the Ground;
+      Little _Cupid_ arm'd unseen,
+      With a Bow and Dart stole in,
+      With a conquering Air and Mien,
+And empty'd his Bow thro' the Nymphs and the Swains;
+      E'ery Shepherd and his Mate,
+      Soon felt their pleasing Fate,
+And longing to try in Enjoyment to die,
+  Love reign'd o'er all the Plains.
+
+Now the sighing Swain gave o'er,
+  And the wearied Nymphs could dance no more,
+There were other Thoughts that mov'd,
+  E'ery pretty kind Pair that Lov'd:
+      In the Woods the Shepherds lay,
+      And mourn'd the time away,
+      And the Nymphs as well as they,
+Long'd to taste what it is that their Senses cloys,
+      Till at last by consent of Eyes,
+      E'ery Swain with his pretty Nymph flies,
+E'ery Buxom She retires with her He,
+  To act Love's solid Joys.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG. _Sung by Mrs._ LUCAS _at the Old_ THEATRE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+By Moon-light on the Green,
+  Our bonny Lasses Cooing;
+And dancing there I've seen,
+  Who seem'd alone worth Wooing:
+Her Skin like driven Snow,
+  Her Hair brown as a Berry:
+Her Eyes black as a Slow,
+  Her Lips red as a Cherry.
+
+Oh how she tript it, skipt it,
+  Leapt it, stept it, whiskt it,
+Friskt it, whirld it, twirl'd it,
+  Swimming, springing, starting:
+So quick, the tune to nick,
+  With a heave and a toss:
+And a jerk at parting,
+  With a heave, and a toss, and a jerk at parting.
+
+As she sat down I bowed,
+  And veil'd my bonnet to her;
+Then took her from the Crowd,
+  With Honey words to woo her;
+Sweet blithest Lass, quoth I,
+  It being bleaky Weather:
+I prithee let us try,
+  Another Dance together;
+_Oh how she_, &c.
+
+Whilst suing thus I stood,
+  Quoth she, pray leave your fooling;
+Some Dancing heats the Blood,
+  But yours I fear lacks cooling:
+Still for a Dance I pray'd,
+  And we at last had Seven;
+And whilst the Fiddle play'd,
+  She thought her self in Heaven,
+_Oh how she_, &c.
+
+At last she with a Smile,
+  To Dance again desir'd me;
+Quoth I, pray stay a while,
+  For now good faith ye've tir'd me:
+With that she look'd on me,
+  And sigh'd with muckle sorrow;
+Than gang ye'ar gate, quoth she,
+  But Dance again to morrow.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ QUAKER'S SONG. _Sung by Mrs._ Willis _at the New Play-House._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Amongst the pure ones all,
+  Which Conscience doth profess;
+And yet that sort of Conscience,
+  Doth practice nothing less:
+I mean the Sect of those Elect,
+  That loath to live by Merit;
+That leads their Lives with other Mens Wives,
+  According unto the Spirit.
+
+One met with a Holy Sister of ours,
+  A Saint who dearly lov'd him:
+And fain he would have kiss'd her,
+  Because the Spirit mov'd him:
+But she deny'd, and he reply'd,
+  You're damn'd unless you do it;
+Therefore consent, do not repent,
+  For the Spirit doth move me to it.
+
+She not willing to offend, poor Soul,
+  Yielded unto his Motion;
+And what these two did intend,
+  Was out of pure Devotion:
+To lye with a Friend and a Brother,
+  She thought she shou'd die no Sinner,
+But e'er five Months were past,
+  The Spirit was quick within her.
+
+But what will the Wicked say,
+  When they shall here of this Rumour;
+They'd laugh at us every Day,
+  And Scoff us in every Corner:
+Let 'em do so still if that they will,
+  We mean not to follow their Fashion,
+They're none of our Sect, nor of our Elect,
+  Nor none of our Congregation.
+
+But when the time was come,
+  That she was to be laid;
+It was no very great Crime,
+  Committed by her they said:
+'Cause they did know, and she did show,
+  'Twas done by a Friend and a Brother,
+But a very great Sin they said it had been,
+  If it had been done by another.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As Oyster _Nan_ stood by her Tub,
+  To shew her vicious Inclination;
+She gave her noblest Parts a Scrub,
+  And sigh'd for want of Copulation:
+A Vintner of no little Fame,
+  Who excellent Red and White can sell ye,
+Beheld the little dirty Dame,
+  As she stood scratching of her Belly.
+
+Come in, says he, you silly Slut,
+  'Tis now a rare convenient Minute;
+I'll lay the Itching of your Scut,
+  Except some greedy Devil be in it:
+With that the Flat-capt Fusby smil'd,
+  And would have blush'd, but that she cou'd not;
+Alass! says she, we're soon beguil'd,
+  By Men to do those things we shou'd not.
+
+From Door they went behind the Bar,
+  As it's by common Fame reported;
+And there upon a Turkey Chair,
+  Unseen the loving Couple sported:
+But being call'd by Company,
+  As he was taking pains to please her;
+I'm coming, coming Sir, says he,
+  My Dear, and so am I, says she, Sir.
+
+Her Mole-hill Belly swell'd about,
+  Into a Mountain quickly after;
+And when the pretty Mouse crept out,
+  The Creature caus'd a mighty Laughter:
+And now she has learnt the pleasing Game,
+  Altho' much Pain and Shame it cost her;
+She daily ventures at the same,
+  And shuts and opens like an Oyster.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ IRISH _Jigg: Or, the Night Ramble._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+One Night in my Ramble I chanc'd to see,
+A thing like a Spirit, it frightened me;
+I cock'd up my Hat and resolv'd to look big,
+And streight fell a Tuning the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+The Devil drew nearer and nearer in short,
+I found it was one of the Petticoat sort;
+My Fears being over, I car'd not a Fig,
+But still I kept tuning the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+And then I went to her, resolving to try her;
+I put her agog of a longing desire;
+I told her I'd give her a Whip for her Gig,
+And a Scourge to the Tune of the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+Then nothing but Dancing our Fancy could please,
+We lay on the Grass and Danc'd at our ease;
+I down'd with my Breeches and off with my Whigg,
+And we fell a Dancing the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+I thank you, kind Sir, for your kindness, said she,
+The Scholar's as Wise as the Master can be;
+For if you should chance to get me with Kid,
+I'll lay the poor Brat to the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+The Dance being ended as you may see,
+We rose by Consent and we both went away;
+I put on my Cloaths and left her to grow big,
+And so I went Roaring the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+It was a happy Golden Day,
+When fair _Althea_ Kind and Gay,
+Put all but Love and me away;
+I arm'd with soft Words did Address,
+Sweet and kind Kisses far express,
+A greater Joy and Happiness.
+
+Nature the best Instructeress cry'd,
+Her Ivory Pillows to divide,
+That Love might Sail with Wind and Tide;
+She rais'd the Mast and sail'd by it,
+That Day two Tides together met,
+Drove him on Shore soon dropping wet.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Ah! _Cælia_ how can you be Cruel and Fair?
+          Since removing,
+          The Charms that are loving,
+'Twould make a poor Lover Despair;
+'Tis true, I have lov'd you these seven long Years & more,
+Too long for a Man that ne'er was in Love before:
+  And if longer you my Caresses deny,
+  I then am resolv'd to give over my Flames and die.
+
+Love fires the Heart of him that is Brave,
+          Charms the Spirit
+          Of him that is merit,
+And makes the poor Lover a Slave;
+Dull sordid Souls that never knew how to Love,
+Where Nature is plung'd, 'tis a shame to the best above:
+  And if any longer you my Caresses deny,
+  I then am resolv'd to give over my Flames and die.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There was a Knight and he was Young,
+  A riding along the way, Sir;
+And there he met a Lady fair,
+  Among the Cocks of Hay, Sir:
+Quoth he, shall you and I Lady,
+  Among the Grass lye down a;
+And I will have a special Care,
+  Of rumpling of your Gown a.
+
+If you will go along with me,
+  Unto my Father's Hall, Sir;
+You shall enjoy my Maiden-head,
+  And my Estate and all, Sir:
+So he mounted her on a milk-white Steed,
+  Himself upon another;
+And then they rid upon the Road,
+  Like Sister and like Brother.
+
+And when she came to her Father's House,
+  Which was moated round about, Sir;
+She stepped streight within the Gate,
+  And shut this Young Knight out, Sir,
+Here is a Purse of Gold, she said,
+  Take it for your Pains, Sir;
+And I will send my Father's Man,
+  To go home with you again, Sir.
+
+And if you meet a Lady fair,
+  As you go thro' the next Town, Sir;
+You must not fear the Dew of the Grass,
+  Nor the rumpling of her Gown, Sir:
+And if you meet a Lady Gay,
+  As you go by the Hill, Sir;
+If you will not when you may,
+  You shall not when you will, Sir.
+
+There is a Dew upon the Grass,
+  Will spoil your Damask Gown a;
+Which has cost your Father dear,
+  Many Shilling and a Crown a:
+There is a Wind blows from the _West_,
+  Soon will dry the Ground a;
+And I will have a special Care,
+  Of the rumpling of my Gown a.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Slaves to _London_ I'll deceive you,
+For the Country now I leave you:
+Who can bear, and not be Mad,
+Wine so dear, and yet so bad:
+Such a Noise and Air so smoaky,
+That to stun, this to choak ye;
+Men so selfish, false and rude,
+Nymphs so young and yet so lew'd.
+
+Quiet harmless Country Pleasure,
+Shall at home engross my Leisure;
+Farewel _London_, I'll repair,
+To my Native Country Air:
+I leave all thy Pleasures behind me,
+But at home my Wife will find me;
+Oh the Gods! 'tis ten times worse,
+_London_ is a milder Curse.
+
+
+
+
+_The Duke of_ ORMOND'S _March._
+
+_Set by Mr._ CHURCH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+      Ye brave Boys and Tars,
+      That design for the Wars,
+Remember the Action at _Vigo_;
+      And where ORMOND Commands,
+      Let us all joyn our Hands,
+_And where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      Let Conquest and Fame,
+      The Honour proclaim,
+Great ORMOND has gotten at _Vigo_;
+      Let the Trumpets now sound,
+      And the Ecchoes around,
+_Where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      Let the Glories be Sung,
+      Which the ORMONDS have won,
+Long before this great Action at _Vigo_;
+      They're so Loyal and Just,
+      And so true to their Trust,
+_That where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      Old Records of Fame,
+      Of the ORMONDS great Name,
+Their Actions, like these were of _Vigo_;
+      And since this Prince exceeds,
+      In his Fore-Father's Deeds,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      'Tis the Praise of our Crown,
+      That such Men of Renown,
+Shou'd lead on the Van, as at _Vigo_;
+      Where such Lives and Estates
+      Are expos'd for our sakes,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      'Twas the whole Nation's Voice,
+      And we all did rejoyce,
+When we heard he Commanded for _Vigo_;
+      To ANNA so True,
+      All her Foes to pursue,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      'Tis the Voice of the Town,
+      And our Zeal for the Crown,
+To serve ORMOND to _France_, _Spain_, or _Vigo_;
+      So Noble and brave,
+      Both to Conquer and save,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      To the Soldiers so kind,
+      And so humbly inclin'd,
+To wave his Applause gain'd at _Vigo_;
+      Yet so kind and so true,
+      He gave all Men their due,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      We justly do own,
+      All the Honour that's won,
+In _Flanders_, as well as at _Vigo_;
+      But our Subject and Theme,
+      Is of ORMOND's great Name,
+_And where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      Then take off the Bowl,
+      To that Generous Soul,
+That Commanded so bravely at _Vigo_;
+      And may ANNA approve,
+      Of our Duty and Love,
+_And where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+
+
+
+_A Cure for Melancholy._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Are you grown so Melancholy,
+That you think on nought but Folly;
+        Are you sad,
+        Are you Mad,
+      Are you worse;
+        Do you think,
+        Want of Chink
+      Is a Curse:
+Do you wish for to have,
+Longer Life, or a Grave,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+First I would have a Bag of Gold,
+That should ten Thousand Pieces hold,
+        And all that,
+        In thy Hat,
+      Would I pour;
+        For to spend,
+        On thy Friend,
+      Or thy Whore:
+For to cast away at Dice,
+Or to shift you of your Lice,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+Next I would have a soft Bed made,
+Wherein a Virgin should be laid;
+        That would Play,
+        Any way
+      You'll devise;
+        That would stick
+        Like a Tick,
+      To your Thighs,
+That would bill like a Dove,
+Lye beneath or above,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+Next that same Bowl, where _Jove_ Divine,
+Drank _Nectar_ in, I'd fill with Wine;
+        That whereas,
+        You should pause,
+      You should quaff;
+        Like a _Greek_,
+        Till your Cheek,
+To _Ceres_ and to _Venus_,
+To _Bacchus_ and _Silenus_,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+Last of all there should appear,
+Seven Eunuchs sphere-like Singing here,
+        In the Praise,
+        Of those Ways,
+      Of delights;
+        _Venus_ can,
+        Use with Man,
+      In the Night;
+When he strives to adorn,
+_Vulcan's_ Head with a HORN,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+But if not Gold, nor Woman can,
+Nor Wine, nor Songs, make merry then;
+        Let the Batt,
+        Be thy Mate,
+      And the Owl;
+        Let a Pain,
+        In thy Brain,
+      Make thee Howl;
+Let the Pox be thy Friend,
+And the Plague work thy end,
+  _Thus I would Cure you_.
+
+
+
+
+_To his fairest_ VALENTINE _Mrs._ A.L.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come pretty Birds present your Lays,
+And learn to chaunt a Goddess Praise;
+Ye Wood-Nymphs let your Voices be,
+Employ'd to serve her Deity:
+And warble forth, ye Virgins Nine,
+  _Some Musick to my_ Valentine.
+
+Her Bosom is Loves Paradise,
+There is no Heav'n but in her Eyes;
+She's chaster than the Turtle-Dove,
+And fairer than the Queen of Love;
+Yea, all Perfections do combine,
+To beautifie my Valentine.
+
+She's Nature's choicest Cabinet,
+Where Honour, Beauty, Worth and Wit,
+Are all united in her Breast,
+The Graces claim an Interest:
+All Vertues that are most Divine,
+Shine clearest in my Valentine.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ BALLAD,
+
+_Or_, COLLIN'S _Adventure._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As _Collin_ went from his Sheep to unfold,
+In a Morning of _April_, as grey as 'twas cold,
+In a Thicket he heard a Voice it self spread;
+    Which was, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+He peep'd in the Bushes, and spy'd where there lay
+His Mistress, whose Countenance made _April May_;
+But in her looks some sadness was read,
+    Crying O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+He rush'd in to her, and cry'd what's the matter,
+Ah! _Collin_, quoth she, why will you come at her,
+Who by the false Swain, hath often been misled,
+    For which O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+He turn'd her Milk-pail, and there down he sat,
+His Hands stroak'd his Beard, on his Knee lay his Coat,
+But, O, still _Mopsa_ cry'd, before ought was said,
+    _Collin_, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+No more, quoth stout _Collin_! I ever was true,
+Thou gav'st me a Handkerchief all hemm'd with Blue:
+A Pin-box I gave thee, and a Girdle so Red,
+    Yet still she cry'd, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+Delaying, quoth she, hath made me thus Ill,
+For I never fear'd _Sarah_ that dwelt at the Mill,
+Since in the Ev'ning late her Hogs thou hast fed,
+    For which, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+_Collin_ then chuck'd her under the Chin,
+Cheer up for to love thee I never will lin,
+Says she, I'll believe it when the Parson has read,
+    'Till then, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+Uds boars, quoth _Collin_, I'll new my shon,
+And e'er the Week pass, by the Mass it shall be done:
+You might have done this before, then she said,
+    But now, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+He gave her a twitch that quite turn'd her round,
+And said, I'm the truest that e'er trod on Ground,
+Come settle thy Milk-Pail fast on thy Head,
+    No more O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+Why then I perceive thoul't not leave me in the Lurch,
+I'll don my best Cloths and streight to the Church:
+Jog on, merry _Collin_, jog on before,
+    For I Faith, I Faith, _I'll dye no more_.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ Town-Rakes, _A_ SONG: _Set by Mr._ Daniel Purcell: _Sung by Mr._
+EDWARDS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+What Life can compare with the jolly Town Rakes,
+When in his full swing of all Pleasure he takes?
+At Noon he gets up for a wet and to Dine,
+And Wings the swift Hours with Mirth, Musick, and Wine,
+Then jogs to the Play-house and chats with the Masques,
+And thence to the _Rose_ where he takes his three Flasks,
+There great as a _Cæsar_ he revels when drunk,
+And scours all he meets as he reels, as he reels to his Punk,
+And finds the dear Girl in his Arms when he wakes,
+What Life can compare to the jolly Town-Rakes, the Jolly Town-Rakes.
+
+He like the Great Turk has his favourite She,
+But the Town's his _Seraglio_, and still he lives free;
+Sometimes she's a Lady, but as he must range,
+Black _Betty_, or Oyster _Moll_ serve for a Change:
+As he varies his Sports his whole Life is a Feast,
+He thinks him that is soberest is most like a Beast:
+All Houses of Pleasure, breaks Windows and Doors,
+Kicks Bullies and Cullies, then lies with their Whores:
+Rare work for the Surgeon and Midwife he makes,
+What Life can Compare with the jolly Town-Rakes.
+
+Thus in _Covent-Garden_ he makes his Campaigns,
+And no Coffee-House haunts but to settle his Brains;
+He laughs at dry Mortals, and never does think,
+Unless 'tis to get the best Wenches and Drink:
+He dwells in a Tavern, and lives ev'ry where,
+And improving his Hour, lives an age in a Year:
+For as Life is uncertain, he loves to make haste,
+And thus he lives longest because he lives fast:
+Then leaps in the Dark, and his _Exit_ he makes,
+What Death can compare with the jolly Town-Rakes.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG: _Set by Mr._ CLARKE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Young _Coridon_ and _Phillis_
+  Sate in a lovely Grove;
+Contriving Crowns of Lillies,
+  Repeating Tales of Love:
+_And something else, but what I dare not_, &c.
+
+But as they were a Playing,
+  She oagled so the Swain;
+It say'd her plainly saying,
+  Let's kiss to ease our Pain:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+A thousand times he kiss'd her,
+  Laying her on the Green;
+But as he farther press'd her,
+  Her pretty Leg was seen:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+So many Beauties removing,
+  His Ardour still increas'd;
+And greater Joys pursuing,
+  He wander'd o'er her Breast:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+A last Effort she trying,
+  His Passion to withstand;
+Cry'd, but it was faintly crying,
+  Pray take away your Hand:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+Young _Coridon_ grown bolder,
+  The Minute would improve;
+This is the Time he told her,
+  To shew you how I love;
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+The Nymph seem'd almost dying,
+  Dissolv'd in amorous Heat;
+She kiss'd, and told him sighing,
+  My Dear your Love is great:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+But _Phillis_ did recover
+  Much sooner than the Swain;
+She blushing ask'd her Lover,
+  Shall we not Kiss again:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+Thus Love his Revels keeping,
+  'Till Nature at a stand;
+From talk they fell to Sleeping,
+  Holding each others Hand;
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_The Amorous_ BARBER'S _Passion of Love for his Dear_ BRIDGET.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+With my Strings of small Wire lo I come,
+  And a Cittern made of Wood;
+And a Song altho' you are Deaf and Dumb,
+  May be heard and understood.
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+Oh! take Pity on me, my Dear,
+  Me thy Slave, and me thy Vassal,
+And be not Cruel, as it were,
+  Like to some strong and well built old Castle.
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+Lest as thou passest along the Street,
+  Braver every Day and braver;
+Every one that does thee meet,
+  Will say there goes a Woman-shaver.
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+And again will think fit,
+  And to say they will determine;
+There goes she that with Tongue killed Clip-Chops,
+  As a Man with his Thumbs kill Vermine.
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+For if thou dost then, farewel Pelf,
+  Farewel _Bridget_, for I vow I'll:
+Either in my Bason hang my self,
+  Or drown me in my Towel,
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+
+
+
+_A_ BALLAD, _made by a Gentleman in_ Ireland, _who could not have
+Access to a Lady whom he went to visit, because the Maid the Night
+before had over-laid her pretty Bitch. To the Tune of_, O Hone, O
+Hone.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Oh! let no Eyes be dry,
+  _Oh Hone, Oh Hone_,
+But let's lament and cry,
+  _Oh Hone, O Hone_,
+We're quite undone almost,
+For _Daphne_ on this Coast,
+Has yielded up the Ghost,
+  _Oh Hone, O Hone_.
+
+_Daphne_ my dearest Bitch,
+  _Oh Hone, O Hone_,
+Who did all Dogs bewitch,
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+Was by a careless Maid,
+Pox take her for a Jade,
+In the Night over-laid,
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+
+Oh may she never more
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+Sleep quietly, but snore,
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+May never Irish Lad,
+Sue for her Maiden-head,
+Until it stinks I Gad,
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+
+Oh may she never keep
+  _Oh Hone, Oh Hone_;
+Her Water in her Sleep,
+  _Oh Hone, Oh Hone_:
+May never Pence nor Pounds,
+Come more within the Bounds,
+Of her Pocket Ad-sounds,
+  _Oh Hone, Oh Hone_.
+
+
+
+
+DAMON _forsaken. Set by Mr._ WROTH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When that young _Damon_ bless'd my Heart,
+  And in soft Words did move;
+How did I hug the pleasing Dart,
+  And thank'd the God of Love:
+_Cupid_, said I, my best lov'd Lamb,
+  That in my Bosom lives:
+To thee, for kindling this dear Flame,
+  To thee, kind God, I'll give.
+
+But prying Friends o'er-heard my Vow,
+  And murmur'd in my Ear;
+_Damon_ hath neither Flocks nor Plough,
+  Girl what thou dost beware:
+They us'd so long their cursed Art,
+  And damn'd deluding sham;
+That I agreed with them to part,
+  Nor offer'd up my Lamb.
+
+_Cupid_ ask'd for his Offering,
+  'Cause I refus'd to pay;
+He took my _Damon_ on his Wing,
+  And carry'd him quite away:
+Pitch'd him before _Olinda's_ Charms,
+  Those Wonders of the Plain;
+Commanding her into her Arms,
+  To take the dearest Swain.
+
+The envy'd Nymph, soon, soon obey'd,
+  And bore away the Prize;
+'Tis well she did, for had she stay'd,
+  I'd snatch'd him from her Eyes:
+My Lamb was with gay Garlands dress'd,
+  The Pile prepar'd to burn;
+Hoping that if the God appeas'd,
+My _Damon_ might return.
+
+But oh! in vain he's gone, he's gone,
+  _Phillis_ he can't be thine;
+I by Obedience am undone,
+  Was ever Fate like mine:
+_Olinda_ do, try all thy Charms,
+  Yet I will have a part;
+For whilst you have him in your Arms,
+  I'll have him in my Heart.
+
+
+
+
+_The Apparition to the Jilted Lover. Set by Mr._ WROTH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Think wretched Mortal, think no more,
+  How to prolong thy Breath:
+For thee there are no Joys in store,
+  But in a welcome Death:
+Then seek to lay thee under Ground,
+  The Grave cures all Despair;
+And healeth every bitter Wound,
+  Giv'n by th' ungrateful Fair.
+
+How cou'dst thou Faith in Woman think,
+  Women are _Syrens_ all;
+And when Men in Loves Ocean sink,
+  Take Pride to see 'em fall:
+Women were never real yet,
+  But always truth despise:
+Constant to nothing but Deceit,
+  False Oaths and flattering Lies.
+
+Ah! _Coridon_ bid Life adieu,
+  The Gods will thee prefer;
+Their Gates are open'd wide for you,
+  But bolted against her:
+Do thou be true, you vow'd to Love,
+  _Phillis_ or Death you'll have;
+Now since the Nymph doth perjured prove,
+  Be just unto the Grave.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Heaven first created Woman to be Kind,
+  Both to be belov'd, and for to Love;
+If you contradict what Heav'n has design'd,
+  You'll be contemn'd by all the Pow'rs above:
+Then no more dispute me, for I am rashly bent,
+  To subject your Beauty
+  To kind Nature's Duty,
+Let me than salute you by Consent.
+
+Arguments and fair Intreats did I use,
+  But with her Consent could not prevail;
+She the Blessing modestly would still refuse,
+  Seeming for to slight my amorous Tale:
+Sometimes she would cry Sir, prithee Dear be good,
+  Oh Sir, pray Sir, why Sir?
+  Pray now, nay now, fye Sir,
+I would sooner die Sir, than be rude.
+
+I began to treat her then another way,
+  Modestly I melted with a Kiss;
+She then blushing look'd like the rising Day,
+  Fitting for me to attempt the Bliss:
+I gave her a fall Sir, she began to tear,
+  Crying she would call Sir,
+  As loud as she could baul Sir,
+But is prov'd as false, Sir, as she's Fair.
+
+
+
+
+RALPH'S _going to the Wars._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+To the Wars I must alass,
+  Though I do not like the Game,
+For I hold him to be an Ass,
+  That will lose his Life for Fame:
+_For these Guns are such pestilent things,
+  To pat a Pellet in ones Brow;
+Four vurlongs off ch've heard zome zay,
+  Ch'ill kill a Man he knows not how._
+
+When the Bow, Bill, Zword and Dagger,
+  Were us'd all in vighting;
+Ch've heard my Father swear and swagger,
+  That it was but a Flea-biting:
+_But these Guns_, &c.
+
+Ise would vight with the best of our Parish,
+  And play at Whisters with _Mary_;
+Cou'd thump the Vootball, yerk the Morrie,
+  And box at Visticuffs with any:
+_But these Guns_, &c.
+
+Varewel _Dick_, _Tom_, _Ralph_ and _Hugh_,
+  My Maypoles make all heretofore;
+Varewel _Doll_, _Kate_, _Zis_ and _Zue_,
+  For I shall never zee you more:
+_For these Guns are such pestilent things,
+  To pat a Pellet in ones Brow;
+Four vurlongs off ch've heard zome zay,
+  Ch'ill kill a Man he knows not how._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in Praise of Punch._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come fill up the Bowl with the Liquor that fine is,
+  And much more Divine is,
+Than now a-days Wine is, with all their Art,
+  None here can controul:
+The Vintner despising, tho' Brandy be rising,
+  'Tis Punch that must chear the Heart:
+The Lovers complaining, 'twill cure in a trice,
+And _Cælia_ disdaining, shall cease to be nice,
+  _Come fill up the Bowl_, &c.
+
+Thus soon you'll discover, the cheat of each Lover,
+When free from all Care you'll quickly find,
+As Nature intended 'em willing and kind:
+  _Come fill up the Bowl_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Bonny _Peggy Ramsey_ that any Man may see,
+And bonny was her Face, with a fair freckel'd Eye,
+Neat is her Body made, and she hath good Skill,
+And square is her Wethergig made like a Mill:
+  _With a hey trolodel, hey trolodel, hey trolodel lill,_
+  _Bonny_ Peggy Ramsey _she gives weel her Mill._
+
+_Peggy_ to the Mill is gone to grind a Bowl of Mault,
+The Mill it wanted Water, and was not that a fault;
+Up she pull'd her Petticoats and piss'd into the Dam,
+For six Days and seven Nights she made the Mill to gang;
+  _With a hey_, &c.
+
+Some call her _Peggy_, and some call her _Jean_,
+But some calls her Midsummer, but they all are mista'en;
+For _Peggy_ is a bonny Lass, and grinds well her Mill,
+For she will be Occupied when others they lay still:
+  _With a hey_, &c.
+
+_Peg_, thee and Ise grin a poke, and we to War will leanes,
+Ise lay thee flat upon thy Back and then lay to the steanes;
+Ise make hopper titter totter, haud the Mouth as still,
+When twa sit, and eane stand, merrily grind the Mill:
+  _With a hey_, &c.
+
+Up goes the Clap, and in goes the Corn,
+Betwixt twa rough steans _Peggy_ not to learn;
+With a Dam full of Water that she holdeth still,
+To pour upon the Clap for burning of the Mill:
+  _With a hey_, &c.
+
+Up she pull'd the Dam sure and let the Water in,
+The Wheel went about, and the Mill began to grind:
+The spindle it was hardy, and the steanes were they well pickt,
+And the Meal fell in the Mill Trough, and ye may all come lick:
+  _With a hey trolodel, hey trolodel, hey trolodel lill,_
+  _Bonny_ Peggy Ramsey _she gives weel her Mill._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Writ by the Famous Mr._ NAT. LEE.
+
+_Philander_ and _Sylvia_, a gentle soft Pair,
+Whose business was loving, and kissing their Care;
+In a sweet smelling Grove went smiling along,
+'Till the Youth gave a vent to his Heart with his Tongue:
+Ah _Sylvia_! said he, (and sigh'd when he spoke)
+Your cruel resolves will you never revoke?
+No never, she said, how never, he cry'd,
+'Tis the Damn'd that shall only that Sentence abide.
+
+She turn'd her about to look all around,
+Then blush'd, and her pretty Eyes cast on the Ground;
+She kiss'd his warm Cheeks, then play'd with his Neck,
+And urg'd that his Reason his Passion would check:
+Ah _Philander_! she said, 'tis a dangerous Bliss,
+Ah! never ask more and I'll give thee a Kiss;
+How never? he cry'd, then shiver'd all o'er,
+No never, she said, then tripp'd to a Bower.
+
+She stopp'd at the Wicket, he cry'd let me in,
+She answer'd, I wou'd if it were not a sin;
+Heav'n sees, and the Gods will chastise the poor Head
+Of _Philander_ for this; straight Trembling he said,
+Heav'n sees, I confess, but no Tell-tales are there,
+She kiss'd him and cry'd, you're an Atheist my Dear;
+And shou'd you prove false I should never endure:
+How never? he cry'd, and straight down he threw her.
+
+Her delicate Body he clasp'd in his Arms,
+He kiss'd her, he press'd her, heap'd charms upon charms;
+He cry'd shall I now? no never, she said,
+Your Will you shall never enjoy till I'm dead:
+Then as if she were dead, she slept and lay still,
+Yet even in Death bequeath'd him a smile:
+Which embolden'd the Youth his Charms to apply,
+Which he bore still about him to cure those that die.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Your Hay it is mow'd, and your Corn is reap'd,
+Your Barns will be full, and your Hovels heap'd;
+    Come, my Boys come,
+    Come, my Boys come,
+And merrily roar our Harvest home:
+    Harvest home,
+    Harvest home,
+And merrily roar our Harvest home.
+  _Come, my Boys come_, &c.
+
+We ha' cheated the Parson, we'll cheat him agen,
+For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten:
+    One in Ten,
+    One in Ten,
+For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten,
+  _One in Ten_, &c.
+
+For prating too long, like a Book learnt Sot,
+'Till Pudding and Dumpling are burnt to Pot:
+    Burnt to Pot,
+    Burnt to Pot,
+'Till Pudding and Dumpling are burnt to Pot.
+  _Burnt to Pot_, &c.
+
+We'll toss off our Ale till we cannot stand,
+And hey for the Honour of old _England_;
+    Old _England_,
+    Old _England_,
+And hey for the Honour of old _England_,
+  _Old_ England, _&c._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I prithee send me back my Heart,
+  Since I cannot have thine:
+For if from yours you will not part,
+  Why then should you have mine.
+
+Yet now I think on't, let it be,
+  To send it me is vain;
+Thou hast a Thief in either Eye,
+  Will steal it back again.
+
+Why should two Hearts in one Breast be,
+  And yet not be together;
+Or Love, where is thy Sympathy,
+  If thou our Hearts do sever?
+
+But Love is such a Mystery,
+  I cannot find it out;
+For when I think I am best resolv'd,
+  Then I am most in Doubt.
+
+Then farewel Care, then farewel Woe,
+  I will no longer pine;
+But I'll believe I have her Heart,
+  As well as she hath mine.
+
+
+
+
+BACCHUS _turn'd Doctor. The Words by_ BEN. JOHNSON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Let Soldiers fight for Pay and Praise,
+  And Money be Misers wish;
+Poor Scholars study all their Days,
+  And Gluttons glory in their Dish:
+    _'Tis Wine, pure Wine, revives sad Souls,_
+    _Therefore give us chearing Bowls._
+
+Let Minions marshal in their Hair,
+  And in a Lover's lock delight;
+And artificial Colours wear,
+  We have the Native Red and White.
+    _'Tis Wine_, &c.
+
+Your Pheasant, Pout, and Culver Salmon,
+  And how to please your Palates think:
+Give us a salt _Westphalia-Gammon_,
+  Not Meat to eat, but Meat to drink.
+    _'Tis Wine_, &c.
+
+It makes the backward Spirits brave,
+  That lively, that before was dull;
+Those grow good Fellows that are grave,
+  And kindness flows from Cups brim full,
+    _'Tis Wine_, &c.
+
+Some have the Ptysick, some the Rhume,
+  Some have the Palsie, some the Gout;
+Some swell with Fat, and some consume,
+  But they are sound that drink all out.
+    _'Tis Wine_, &c.
+
+Some Men want Youth, and some want Health,
+  Some want a Wife, and some a Punk;
+Some Men want Wit, and some want Wealth,
+  But he wants nothing that is drunk.
+    _'Tis Wine, pure Wine, revives sad Souls,_
+    _Therefore give us chearing Bowls._
+
+
+
+
+JENNY _making Hay._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Poor _Jenny_ and I we toiled,
+  In a long Summer's Day;
+Till we were almost foiled,
+  With making of the Hay;
+Her Kerchief was of Holland clear,
+  Bound low upon her Brow;
+Ise whisper'd something in her Ear,
+  _But what's that to you?_
+
+Her Stockings were of Kersey green,
+  Well stitcht with yellow Silk;
+Oh! sike a Leg was never seen,
+  Her Skin as white as Milk:
+Her Hair as black as any Crow,
+  And sweet her Mouth was too;
+Oh _Jenny_ daintily can mow,
+  _But_, &c.
+
+Her Petticoats were not so low,
+  As Ladies they do wear them;
+She needed not a Page I trow,
+  For I was by to bear them:
+Ise took them up all in my Hand,
+  And I think her Linnen too;
+Which made me for to make a stand;
+  _But_, &c.
+
+King _Solomon_ had Wives enough,
+  And Concubines a Number;
+Yet Ise possess more happiness,
+  And he had more of Cumber;
+My Joys surmount a wedded Life,
+  With fear she lets me mow her;
+A Wench is better than a Wife,
+  _But_, &c.
+
+The Lilly and the Rose combine,
+  To make my _Jenny_ fair;
+There's no Contentment sike as mine;
+  I'm almost void of Care:
+But yet I fear my _Jenny's_ Face,
+  Will cause more Men to woe;
+Which if she should, as I do fear,
+  _Still, what is that to you?_
+
+
+
+
+_The Knotting_ SONG. _The Words by Sir_ CHARLES SYDNEY.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Hears not my _Phillis_ how the Birds,
+  Their feather'd Mates salute:
+They tell their Passion in their Words,
+  Must I alone, must I alone be mute:
+Phillis _without a frown or smile,_
+_Sat & knotted, & knotted, & knotted, and knotted all the while._
+
+The God of Love in thy bright Eyes,
+  Does like a Tyrant Reign;
+But in thy Heart a Child he lies,
+  Without a Dart or Flame.
+_Phillis_, &c.
+
+So many Months in silence past,
+  And yet in raging Love;
+Might well deserve one word at last,
+  My Passion should approve.
+_Phillis_, &c.
+
+Must then your faithful Swain expire,
+  And not one look obtain;
+Which to sooth his fond desire,
+  Might pleasingly explain.
+_Phillis_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ FRENCH KING _in a foaming Passion for the loss of his Potent
+Army in the_ NETHERLANDS, _which were Routed by his Grace the Duke of_
+MARLBOROUGH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Old _Lewis le Grand_,
+  He raves like a Fury,
+  And calls for _Mercury_;
+Quoth he, if I can,
+  I'll finish my Days;
+For why should I live?
+Since the Fates will not give
+  One affable smile:
+Great _Marlborough_ Conquers,
+Great _Marlborough_ Conquers,
+  I'm ruin'd the while.
+
+The Flower of _France_,
+  And Troops of my Palace
+  Which march'd from _Versales_
+Who vow'd to Advance,
+  With Conquering Sword,
+Are cut, hack'd and hew'd,
+I well may conclude,
+  They're most of them Slain:
+Oh! what will become of,
+Oh! what will become of,
+  My Grand-Son in _Spain_.
+
+My fortify'd Throne,
+  Propt up by Oppression,
+  Must yield at Discretion,
+For needs must I own,
+  My Glory decays:
+Bold _Marlborough_ comes
+With ratling Drums,
+  And thundering Shot,
+He drives all before him,
+He drives all before him,
+  Oh! Where am I got?
+
+He pushes for Crowns,
+  And slays my Commanders,
+  And Forces in _Flanders_;
+Great Capital Towns,
+  For _CHARLES_ has declar'd:
+These things like a Dart,
+Has pierced my Heart,
+  And threatens my Death;
+Here do I lye sighing,
+Here do I lye sighing,
+  And Panting for Breath.
+
+This passionate Grief,
+  Draws on my Diseases,
+  Which fatally ceases
+My Spirits in chief,
+  A fit of the Gout,
+The Gravel and Stone,
+I have 'tis well known,
+  At this horrid News,
+Of _Marlborough's_ Triumph,
+Of _Marlborough's_ Triumph,
+  All Battles I lose.
+
+Wherever he comes,
+  He is bold and Victorious,
+  Successful and glorious,
+My two Royal Thumbs
+  With anguish I bite:
+To hear his Success;
+Yet nevertheless,
+  My passion's in vain:
+I pity my Darling,
+I pity my Darling,
+  Young _Philip_ in _Spain_.
+
+I am out of my Wits,
+  If e'er I had any;
+  My Foes they are many,
+Which plagues me by fits,
+  In _Flanders_ and _Spain_:
+I'm sick at my Heart,
+To think we must part,
+  With what we enjoy'd,
+Towns, Castles, are taken,
+Towns, Castles, are taken,
+  My Troops are destroy'd.
+
+I am I declare,
+  In a weak Condition,
+  Go call my Physician,
+And let him prepare
+  Some comfort with speed,
+Without all delay,
+Assist me I pray,
+  And hear my Complaint,
+A Dram of the Bottle,
+A Dram of the Bottle,
+  Or else I shall faint.
+
+Should I slip my Breath,
+  At this dreadful Season,
+  I think it but Reason,
+I should lay my Death,
+  To the daring Foes,
+Whose Fire and Smoak,
+Has certainly broke,
+  The Heart in my Breast:
+Oh! bring me a Cordial,
+Oh! bring me a Cordial,
+  And lay me to Rest.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Captain_ PACK.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Would you be a Man in Fashion?
+  Would you lead a Life Divine?
+Take a little Dram of Passion, (a little dram of Passion)
+  In a lusty Dose of Wine
+If the Nymph has no Compassion,
+  Vain it is to sigh and groan:
+Love was but put in for Fashion,
+  Wine will do the Work alone.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ THO. FARMER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Though the Pride of my Passion fair _Sylvia_ betrays,
+  And frowns at the Love I impart;
+Though kindly her Eyes twist amorous Rays,
+  To tye a more fortunate Heart:
+Yet her Charms are so great, I'll be bold in my Pain,
+    His Heart is too tender,
+Too tender, that's struck with Disdain.
+
+Still my Heart is so just to my Passionate Eyes,
+  It dissolves with Delight while I gaze:
+And he that loves on, though _Sylvia_ denies,
+  His Love but his Duty obeys:
+I no more can refrain her neglects to pursue,
+    Than the force, the force
+Of her Beauty can cease to subdue.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When first I fair _Celinda_ knew,
+  Her Kindness then was great:
+Her Eyes I cou'd with Pleasure view,
+  And friendly Rays did meet:
+In all Delights we past the time,
+  That could Diversion move;
+She oft would kindly hear me Rhime
+  Upon some others Love:
+_She oft would kindly hear me Rhime,_
+  _Upon some others Love._
+
+But ah! at last I grew too bold,
+  Prest by my growing Flame;
+For when my Passion I had told,
+  She hated ev'n my Name:
+Thus I that cou'd her Friendship boast,
+  And did her Love pursue;
+And taught Contentment at the cost,
+  Of Love and Friendship too.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ FISHBURNE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Long had _Damon_ been admir'd,
+  By the Beauties of the Plain;
+Ev'ry Breast warm Love inspir'd,
+  For the proper handsome Swain:
+The choicest Nymph _Sicilia_ bred,
+  Was won by his resistless Charms:
+Soft Looks, and Verse as smooth, had led
+  And left the Captive in his Arms.
+
+But our _Damon's_ Soul aspires,
+  To a Goddess of his Race;
+Though he sues with chaster Fires,
+  This his Glories does deface:
+The fatal News no sooner blown
+  In Whispers up the Chesnut Row;
+The God _Sylvanus_ with a Frown,
+  Blasts all the Lawrels on his Brow.
+
+Swains be wise, and check desire
+  In it's soaring, when you'll woe:
+_Damon_ may in Love require
+  _Thestyles_ and _Laura_ too:
+When Shepherds too ambitious are,
+  And Court _Astrea_ on a Throne;
+Like to the shooting of a Star,
+  They fall, and thus their shining's gone.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ FISHBURN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Pretty _Floramel_, no Tongue can ever tell,
+  The Charms that in thee dwell;
+      Those Soul-melting Pleasures,
+Shou'd the mighty _Jove_ once view, he'd be in Love,
+And plunder all above,
+      To rain down his Treasure:
+Ah! said the Nymph in the Shepherd's Arms,
+Had you half so much Love as you say I have Charms;
+  There's not a Soul, created for Man and Love,
+  More true than _Floramel_ wou'd prove,
+  I'd o'er the World with thee rove.
+
+Love that's truly free, had never Jealousie,
+  But artful Love may be
+      Both doubtful and wooing;
+Ah! dear Shepherdess, ne'er doubt, for you may guess,
+My Heart will prove no less,
+      Than ever endless loving:
+Then cries the Nymph, like the Sun thou shalt be,
+And I, like kind Earth, will produce all to thee;
+  Of ev'ry Flower in Love's Garden I'll Off'rings pay
+  To my Saint. Nay then pray
+  Take not those dear Eyes away.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ ROBERT KING.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+By shady Woods and purling Streams,
+I spend my Life in pleasing Dreams;
+And would not for the World be thought
+To change my false delightful Thought:
+For who, alas! can happy be,
+That does the Truth of all things see?
+_For who, alas! can happy be,_
+_That does the Truth of all things see._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Sett by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In _Chloris_ all soft Charms agree,
+  Enchanting Humour pow'rful Wit;
+Beauty from Affectation free,
+  And for Eternal Empire fit:
+Where-e'er she goes, Love waits her Eyes,
+  The Women Envy, Men adore;
+Tho' did she less the Triumph Prize,
+  She wou'd deserve the Conquest more.
+
+But Vanity so much prevails,
+  She begs what else none can deny her;
+And with inviting treach'rous Smiles
+  Gives hopes which ev'n prevent desire:
+Reaches at every trifling Heart,
+  Grows warm with ev'ry glimm'ring Flame:
+And common Prey so deads her Dart,
+  It scarce can wound a noble Game.
+
+I could lye Ages at her Feet,
+  Adore her careless of my Pain;
+With tender Vows her Rigour meet,
+  Despair, love on, and not complain:
+My Passion from all change secur'd,
+  Favours may rise, no Frown controuls;
+I any Torment can endure,
+  But hoping with a crowd of Fools.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ THO. FARMER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When busie Fame o'er all the Plain,
+  _Velinda's_ Praises rung;
+And on their Oaten Pipes each Swain
+  Her matchless Beauty sung:
+The Envious Nymphs were forc'd to yield
+  She had the sweetest Face;
+No emulous disputes were held,
+  But for the second place.
+
+Young _Coridon_, whose stubborn Heart
+  No Beauty e'er could move;
+But smil'd at _Cupid's_ Bow and Dart,
+  And brav'd the God of Love:
+Would view this Nymph, and pleas'd at first,
+  Such silent Charms to see:
+With Wonder gaz'd, then sigh'd, and curs'd
+  His Curiosity.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FISHBURNE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Why am I the only Creature,
+  Must a ruin'd Love pursue;
+Other Passions yield to Nature,
+  Mine there's nothing can subdue:
+Not the Glory of Possessing,
+  Monarch wishes gave me ease,
+More and more the mighty Blessings
+  Did my raging Pains encrease.
+
+Nor could Jealousie relieve me,
+  Tho' it ever waited near;
+Cloath'd in gawdy Pow'r to grieve me,
+  Still the Monster would appear:
+That, nor Time, nor Absence neither,
+  Nor Despair removes my Pain;
+I endure them all together,
+  Yet my Torments still remain.
+
+Had alone her matchless beauty,
+  Set my amorous Heart on Fire,
+Age at last would do its Duty,
+  Fuel ceasing, Flames expire.
+But her Mind immortal grows,
+  Makes my Love immortal too;
+Nature ne'er created Faces,
+  Can the Charms of Souls undoe.
+
+And to make my Loss the greater,
+  She laments it as her own;
+Could she scorn me, I might hate her,
+  But alas! she shews me none:
+Then since Fortune is my Ruin,
+  In Retirement I'll Complain;
+And in rage for my undoing,
+  Ne'er come in its Power again.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Laurinda_, who did love Disdain,
+For whom had languish'd many a Swain:
+Leading her bleating Flocks to drink,
+She 'spy'd upon a River's brink
+A Youth, whose Eyes did well declare,
+How much he lov'd, but lov'd not her.
+
+At first she laugh'd, but gaz'd a while,
+Which soon it lessen'd to a smile;
+Thence to Surprize and Wonder came,
+Her Breast to heave, her Heart to flame:
+Then cry'd she out, Ah! now I prove
+Thou art a God most mighty _Jove_.
+
+She would have spoke, but shame deny'd,
+And bid her first consult her Pride;
+But soon she found that aid was gone,
+For _Jove_, alass! had left her none:
+Ah! now she burns! but 'tis too late,
+For in his Eyes she reads her Fate.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Fair _Cælia_ too fondly contemns those Delights,
+Wherewith gentle Nature hath soften'd the Nights;
+If she be so kind to present us with Pow'r,
+The Fault is our own to neglect the good Hour:
+Who gave thee this Beauty, ordain'd thou should'st be,
+As kind to thy Slaves, as the Gods were to thee.
+
+Then _Cælia_ no longer reserve the vain Pride,
+Of wronging thy self, to see others deny'd;
+If Love be a Pleasure, alass! you will find,
+We both are not happy, when both are most kind:
+But Women, like Priests, do in others reprove,
+And call that thing Lust, which in them is but Love.
+
+What they thro' their Madness and Folly create,
+We poor silly Slaves still impute to our Fate;
+But in such Distempers where Love is the Grief,
+'Tis _Cælia_, not Heaven, must give us Relief:
+Then away with those Titles of Honour and Cause,
+Which first made us sin, by giving us Laws.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ WILLIAM TURNER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I Lik'd, but never Lov'd before
+  I saw that charming Face;
+Now every Feature I adore,
+  And doat on ev'ry Grace:
+She ne'er shall know that kind desire,
+  Which her cold Looks denies,
+Unless my Heart that's all on Fire,
+  Should sparkle through my Eyes:
+Then if no gentle Glance return,
+  A silent Leave to speak;
+My Heart which would for ever burn,
+  Alass! must sigh and break.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in_ Valentinian.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Where would coy _Amyntas_ run,
+  From a despairing Lover's Story?
+When her Eyes have Conquest won,
+  Why should her Ear refuse the Glory:
+Shall a Slave, whose Racks constrain,
+Be forbidden to complain;
+Let her scorn me, let her Fly me,
+Let her Looks, her Love deny me:
+Ne'er shall my Heart yield to despair,
+Or my Tongue cease to tell my Care,
+Or my Tongue cease to tell my Care:
+Much to love, and much to pray,
+Is to Heav'n the only way.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Pelham Humphreys.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+  A Wife I do hate,
+For either she's False, or she's Jealous;
+  But give me a Mate,
+Who nothing will ask us or tell us:
+  She stands at no Terms,
+Nor Chaffers by way of Indenture:
+  Or Loves for the Farms,
+But takes the kind Man at a Venture.
+
+  If all prove not right,
+Without an Act, Process or Warning,
+  From Wife for a Night,
+You may be divorc'd the next Morning,
+  Where Parents are Slaves,
+Their Brats can't be any other;
+  Great Wits and great Braves,
+Have always a Punk to their Mother.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Tell me ye _Sicilian_ Swains,
+Why this Mourning's o'er your Plains;
+    Where's your usual Melody?
+Why are all your Shepherds mad,
+And your Shepherdesses sad?
+    What can the mighty meaning be?
+  _Chorus._ _Sylvia_ the Glory of our Plains;
+  _Sylvia_ the Love of all our Swains;
+    That blest us with her Smiles:
+Where ev'ry Shepherd had a Heart,
+And ev'ry Shepherdess a Part;
+    Slights our Gods, and leaves our Isle,
+    Slights our Gods, and leaves our Isle.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When gay _Philander_ left the Plain,
+The Love, the Life of ev'ry Swain;
+His Pipe the mournful _Strephon_ took,
+By some sad Bank and murm'ring Brook:
+Whilst list'ning Flocks forsook their Food,
+And Melancholy by him stood;
+On the cold Ground himself he laid,
+And thus the Mournful Shepherd play'd.
+
+Farewel to all that's bright and gay,
+No more glad Night and chearing Day;
+No more the Sun will gild our Plain,
+'Till the lost Youth return again:
+Then every pensive Heart that now,
+With Mournful Willow shades his Brow;
+Shall crown'd with chearful Garlands sing,
+And all shall seem Eternal Spring.
+
+Say, mighty _Pan_, if you did know,
+Say all ye rural Gods below;
+'Mongst all Youths that grac'd your Plain,
+So gay so beautiful a Swain:
+In whose sweet Air and charming Voice,
+Our list'ning Swains did all Rejoyce;
+Him only, O ye Gods! restore
+Your Nymphs, and Shepherds ask no more.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ THO. KINGSLEY.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How Happy's the Mortal whose Heart is his own,
+And for his own Quiet's beholden to none,
+        (_Eccho._ Beholden to none, to none;)
+That to Love's Enchantments ne'er lendeth an Ear,
+Which a Frown or a Smile can equally bear,
+        (_Eccho._ Can equally bear, can bear,)
+Nor on ev'ry frail Beauty still fixes an Eye,
+But from those sly Felons doth prudently fly,
+        (_Eccho._ Doth prudently, prudently fly, doth fly;)
+For the Heart that still wanders is pounded at last,
+And 'tis hard to relieve it when once it is fast,
+        (_Eccho._ When once it is fast, is fast.)
+
+By sporting with Dangers still longer and longer,
+The Fetters and Chains of the Captive grows stronger;
+He drills on his Evil, then curses his Fate,
+And bewails those Misfortunes himself did create:
+Like an empty Camelion he lives on the Air,
+And all the Day lingers 'twixt Hope and Despair;
+Like a Fly in the Candle he sports and he Games,
+'Till a Victim in Folly, he dies in the Flames.
+
+If Love, so much talk'd of, a Heresie be,
+Of all it enslaves few true Converts we see;
+If hectoring and huffing would once do the Feat,
+There's few that would fail of a Vict'ry Compleat;
+But with Gain to come off, and the Tyrant subdue,
+Is an Art that is hitherto practis'd by few;
+How easie is Freedom once had to maintain,
+But Liberty lost is as hard to regain.
+
+This driv'ling and sniv'ling, and chiming in Parts,
+This wining and pining, and breaking of Hearts;
+All pensive and silent in Corners to sit,
+Are pretty fine Pastimes for those that want Wit:
+When this Passion and Fashion doth so far abuse 'em,
+It were good the State should for Pendulums use 'em;
+For if Reason it seize on, and make it give o'er,
+No Labour can save, or reliev't any more.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Henry Purcell.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Thousand several ways I try'd,
+  To hide my Passion from your view;
+Conscious that I should be deny'd,
+  Because I cannot Merit you:
+Absence, the last and worst of all,
+  Did so encrease my wretched Pain,
+That I return'd, rather to fall
+  By the swift Fate, by the swift Fate of your Disdain.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+To the Grove, gentle Love, let us be going,
+Where the kind Spring and Wind all Day are Woing;
+He with soft sighing Blasts strives to o'er-take her,
+She would not tho' she flies, have him forsake her,
+But in circling Rings returning,
+And in purling Whispers Mourning;
+She swells and pants, as if she'd say,
+Fain I would, but dare not stay.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ FISHBURN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Tell me no more of Flames in Love,
+  That common dull pretence,
+Fools in Romances use to move
+  Soft Hearts of little Sense:
+No, _Strephon_, I'm not such a Slave,
+  Love's banish'd Power to own;
+Since Interest and Convenience have
+  So long usurp'd his Throne.
+
+No burning Hope or cold Despair,
+  Dull Groves or purling Streams,
+Sighing and talking to the Air
+  In Love's fantastick Dreams,
+Can move my Pity or my Hate,
+  But Satyrist I'll prove,
+And all ridiculous create
+  That shall pretend to Love.
+
+Love was a Monarch once, 'tis true,
+  And God-like rul'd alone,
+And tho' his Subjects were but few,
+  Their Hearts were all his own;
+But since the Slaves revolted are,
+  And turn'd into a State,
+Their Int'rest is their only Care,
+  And Love grows out of Date.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ FISHBURN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Wealth breeds Care, Love, Hope and Fear;
+What does Love our Business hear?
+While _Bacchus_ merry does appear,
+  Fight on and fear no sinking,
+Charge it briskly to the Brim,
+'Till the flying Top-sails swim,
+We owe the great Discovery to him
+  Of this new World of Drinking.
+
+Grave Cabals that States refine,
+Mingle their Debates with Wine;
+_Ceres_ and the God o'th' Wine;
+  Makes every great Commander.
+Let sober Sots Small-beer subdue,
+The Wise and valiant Wine does woe;
+The _Stagyrite_ had the honour to
+  Be drunk with _Alexander_.
+
+Stand to your Arms, and now Advance
+A Health to the _English_ King of _France_;
+On to the next a _bon Speranze_,
+  By _Bacchus_ and _Apollo_.
+Thus in State I lead the Van,
+Fall in your Place by your right-hand Man,
+Beat Drum! now March! Dub a dub, ran dan,
+  He's a _Whig_ that will not follow.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Fishburn.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Tho' Fortune and Love may be Deities still,
+  To those they Oblige by their Pow'r;
+For my Part, they ever have us'd me so ill,
+  They cannot expect I'll adore:
+Hereafter a Temple to Friendship I'll raise,
+And dedicate there all the rest of my Days,
+  To the Goddess accepted my Vows,
+  _To the Goddess accepted my Vows_.
+
+Thou perfectest Image of all things Divine,
+  Bright Center of endless Desires,
+May the Glory be yours, and the Services mine,
+  When I light at your Altars the Fires.
+I offer a Heart has Devotion so pure,
+It would for your Service all Torments endure,
+  Might you but have all things you wish,
+  _Might you_, &c.
+
+But yet the Goddess of Fools to despise,
+  I find I'm too much in her Power;
+She makes me go where 'tis in vain to be wise,
+  In absence of her I adore:
+If Love then undoes me before I get back,
+I still with resignment receive the Attack,
+  Or languish away in Despair,
+  _Or languish_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ Henry Purcell.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+He himself courts his own Ruin,
+  That with too great Passion sues 'em:
+When Men Whine too much in Wooing,
+  Women with like Coquets use 'em:
+Some by this way of addressing
+  Have the Sex so far transported,
+That they'll fool away the Blessing
+  For the Pride of being Courted.
+
+Jilt and smile when we adore 'em,
+  While some Blockhead buys the Favour;
+Presents have more Power o'er 'em
+  Than all our soft Love and Labour,
+Thus, like Zealots, with screw'd Faces,
+  We our fooling make the greater,
+While we cant long winded Graces,
+  Others they fall to the Creature.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ DAMASENE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Cease lovely _Strephon_, cease to charm;
+  Useless, alas! is all this Art;
+It's needless you should strongly arm,
+  To take a too, too willing Heart:
+I hid my weakness all I could,
+  And chid my pratling tell-tale Eyes,
+For fear the easie Conquest should
+  Take from the value of the Prize.
+
+But oh! th' unruly Passion grew
+  So fast, it could not be conceal'd,
+And soon, alas! I found to you
+  I must without Conditions yield,
+Tho' you have thus surpriz'd my Heart,
+  Yet use it kindly, for you know,
+It's not a gallant Victor's part
+  To insult o'er a vanquish'd Foe.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ DAMASENE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+You happy Youths, whose Hearts are free
+  From Love's Imperial Chain,
+Henceforth be warn'd and taught by me,
+  And taught by me to avoid inchanting Pain,
+Fatal the Wolves to trembling Flocks,
+  Sharp Winds to Blossoms prove:
+To careless Seamen, hidden Rocks;
+  To human quiet Love.
+
+Fly the Fair-Sex, if Bliss you prize,
+  The Snake's beneath the Flow'r:
+Whoever gaz'd on Beauties Eyes,
+  That tasted Quiet more?
+The Kind with restless Jealousie,
+  The Cruel fill with Care;
+With baser Falshood those betray,
+  These kill us with Despair.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Dr._ STAGGINS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When first _Amyntas_ charm'd my Heart,
+  The heedless Sheep began to stray;
+The Wolves soon stole the greatest part,
+  And all will now be made a Prey:
+Ah! let not Love your Thoughts possess,
+'Tis fatal to a Shepherdess;
+  The dangerous Passion you must shun,
+  Or else like me, be quite undone.
+
+
+
+
+A SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ RICHARD CROONE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How happy and free is the resolute Swain,
+  That denies to submit to the Yoak of the Fair;
+Free from Excesses of Pleasure and Pain,
+  Neither dazl'd with Hope, nor deprest with Despair.
+He's safe from Disturbance, and calmly enjoys
+All the Pleasures of Love, without Clamour and Noise.
+
+Poor Shepherds in vain their Affections reveal,
+  To a Nymph that is peevish, proud sullen and coy;
+Vainly do Virgins their Passions conceal,
+  For they boil in their Grief, 'till themselves they destroy,
+And thus the poor Darling lies under a Curse:
+To be check'd in the Womb, or o'erlaid by the Nurse.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Sung by Mrs._ Cross _in the_ Mock-Astrologer, _Set by Mr._ RAMONDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Why so pale and wan fond Lover?
+  Prithee, prithee, Prithee why so pale:
+Will, when looking well can't move her,
+  Looking Ill, looking ill prevail?
+Why so dull and mute young Sinner?
+  Prithee, prithee why so mute;
+Will, when speaking well can't win her,
+  Saying nothing, nothing do't?
+Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,
+  This cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot take her;
+If of her self she will not love,
+  Nothing can, nothing can make her,
+  The Devil, the Devil, the Devil, the Devil take her.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _occasioned by a Lady's wearing a Patch upon a becoming place
+on her Face. Set by Mr._ John Weldon.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+That little Patch upon your Face
+  Wou'd seem a Foil on one less Fair,
+Wou'd seem a Foil, wou'd seem a Foil,
+  Wou'd seem a Foil on one less Fair:
+On you it hides a charming Grace,
+  And you in Pity, you in Pity,
+  You in Pity plac'd it there;
+On you it hides a Charming Grace,
+  And you in Pity, you in Pity,
+  In Pity plac'd it there.
+_And you in Pity, Pity,_
+  _And you in Pity plac'd it there._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set and Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE _at the_ THEATER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Iris_ beware when _Strephon_ pursues you,
+  'Tis but to boast a Conquest won:
+All his Designs are aim'd to undo you,
+  Break off the Love he has begun:
+When he's Addressing, and prays for the Blessing,
+  Which none but his _Iris_ can give alone;
+O then beware, 'tis all to undo you,
+  'Tis but to boast a Conquest won:
+She that's believing, while he is deceiving,
+  Like many already, will be undone;
+_Iris_ beware when _Strephon_ pursues you,
+  'Tis but to boast a Conquest won.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ RAMONDON, _Sung at the_ Theatre.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How charming _Phillis_ is, how Fair,
+  How charming _Phillis_ is, how Fair,
+  O that she were as willing,
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,
+  And make her Eyes less killing;
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,
+  And make her Eyes less killing;
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,
+  And make her Eyes less killing;
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,
+  And make her Eyes less killing.
+
+I Sigh, I Sigh, I Languish now,
+  And Love will not let me rest;
+I drive about the Park and Bow,
+  Where-e'er I meet my Dearest.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ ANTHONY YOUNG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Cease whining _Damon_ to Complain,
+  Of thy Unhappy Fate;
+That _Sylvia_ should thy Love disdain,
+  Which lasting was and great.
+
+For Love so constant flames so bright,
+  More unsuccessful prove:
+Than cold neglect and sudden slight,
+  To gain the Nymph you love.
+
+Then only you'll obtain the Prize,
+  When you her Coyness use;
+If you pursue the Fair, she flies,
+  But if you fly, pursues.
+
+Had _Phoebus_ not pursu'd so fast
+  The seeming cruel she;
+The God a Virgin had embrac'd,
+  And not a lifeless Tree.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the_ OPERA _call'd the_ BRITTISH ENCHANTERS. _Set by Mr._
+J. ECCLES.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Plague us not with idle Stories,
+  Whining Loves, whining Loves, whining Loves,
+        And Senceless Glories.
+  What are Lovers? what are Kings?
+  What, at best, but slavish Things?
+  What are Lovers? what are Kings?
+  What, at best, but slavish Things?
+  What, at best, but slavish Things?
+
+Free I liv'd as Nature made me,
+Love nor Beauty durst invade me,
+No rebellious Slaves betray'd me,
+Free I liv'd as Nature made me,
+Each by turns as Sence inspired me,
+_Bacchus_, _Ceres_, _Venus_ fir'd me,
+I alone have learnt true Pleasure,
+Freedom, Freedom, Freedom is the only, only Treasure.
+
+
+
+
+JUNO _in the Prize._
+
+_Set by Mr._ JOHN WELDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Let Ambition fire thy Mind,
+  Thou wert born o'er Men to Reign;
+Not to follow Flocks design'd,
+  Scorn thy Crook, and leave the Plain:
+Not to follow Flocks design'd,
+  Scorn thy Crook, and leave the Plain.
+
+Crowns I'll throw beneath thy Feet,
+  Thou on Necks of Kings shalt tread,
+Joys in Circles, Joys shall meet,
+  Which way e're thy fancy leads.
+
+
+
+
+_The Beau's Character in the Comedy call'd_ Hampstead-Heath. _Set and
+Sung by Mr._ Ramondon.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+      A Whig that's full,
+      An empty Scull,
+A Box of _Burgamot_;
+      A Hat ne'er made
+      To fit his Head
+No more than that to Plot.
+      A Hand that's White,
+      A Ring that's right,
+A Sword, Knot, Patch and Feather;
+      A Gracious Smile,
+      And Grounds and Oyl,
+Do very well together.
+
+      A smatch of _French_,
+      And none of Sence,
+All Conquering Airs and Graces;
+      A Tune that Thrills,
+      A Lear that Kills,
+Stoln Flights and borrow'd Phrases.
+      A Chariot Gilt,
+      To wait on Jilt,
+An awkward Pace and Carriage;
+      A Foreign Tower,
+      Domestick Whore,
+And Mercenary Marriage.
+
+      A Limber Ham,
+      G---- D---- ye M'am,
+A Smock-Face, tho' a Tann'd one;
+      A Peaceful Sword,
+      Not one wise Word,
+But State and Prate at Random.
+      Duns, Bastards, Claps,
+      And Am'rous Scraps,
+Of _Cælia_ and _Amadis_;
+      Toss up a Beau,
+      That Grand Ragou,
+That Hodge-Podge for the Ladies.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the Innocent Mistress. Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _Sung by
+Mrs._ Hodgson.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When I languish'd and wish'd you wou'd something bestow,
+  You bad me to give it a Name;
+But by Heav'n I know it as little as you,
+  Tho' my Ignorance passes for Shame:
+You take for Devotion each passionate Glance,
+  And think the dull Fool is sincere;
+But never believe that I spake in Romance,
+  On purpose to tickle, on purpose, on purpose,
+  On purpose to tickle your Ear:
+To please me than more, think still I am true,
+And hug each Apocryphal Text;
+Tho' I practice a Thousand false Doctrines on you,
+  I shall still have enough, I shall still have enough,
+  Shall still have enough for the next.
+
+
+
+
+VENUS _to_ PARIS _in the Prize Musick. Set by Mr._ JOHN WELDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Hither turn thee, hither turn thee, hither turn thee gentle Swain,
+Hither turn thee, hither turn thee, hither turn thee gentle Swain,
+Let not _Venus_, let not _Venus_, let not _Venus_ sue in vain;
+_Venus_ rules, _Venus_ rules, _Venus_ rules the Gods above,
+Love rules them, Love rules them, Love rules them, and she rules Love?
+  _Venus_ rules the Gods above,
+Love rules them, Love rules them, Love rules them,
+Love rules them, Love rules them, and she rules Love.
+  Love rules them, and she rules Love.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_The Words by Mr._ WARD, _Set by Mr._ HARRIS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Belinda_! why do you distrust,
+  So faithful and so kind a Heart:
+Which cannot prove to you unjust,
+  But must it self endure the smart:
+No, no, no, no the wandring Stars,
+  Shall sooner cease their Motion;
+And Nature reconcile the Jars,
+  'Twixt _Boreas_ and the Ocean:
+The fixed Poles shall seem to move,
+  And ramble from their Places;
+E'er I'll from fair _Belinda_ rove,
+  Or slight her charming Graces.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ William Turner.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Long was the Day e're _Alexis_ my Lover,
+  To finish my Hopes would his Passion reveal;
+He could not speak, nor I could not discover,
+  What my poor aking Heart was so loath to conceal:
+Till the Strength of his Passion his Fear had remov'd,
+Then we mutually talk'd, and we mutually lov'd.
+
+Groves for Umbrella's did kindly o'er-shade us,
+  From _Phoebus_ hot rages, who like envy in strove;
+Had not kind Fate this Provision made us,
+  All the Nymphs of the Air would have envy'd our Love:
+But we stand below Envy that ill-natur'd Fate,
+And above cruel Scorn is happy Estate.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set to Musick by Mr._ John Eccles.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As _Cupid_ roguishly one Day,
+Had all alone stole out to play;
+The _Muses_ caught the little, little, little Knave,
+And captive Love to Beauty gave:
+The _Muses_ caught the little, little, little Knave,
+And captive Love to Beauty gave:
+The laughing Dame soon miss'd her Son,
+And here and there, and here and there,
+  And here and there distracted run;
+Distracted run, and here and there,
+  And here and there, and here and there distracted run:
+And still his Liberty to gain, his Liberty to gain,
+  Offers his Ransom,
+But in vain, in vain, in vain;
+The willing, willing Prisoner still hugs his Chain,
+And Vows he'll ne'er be free,
+And Vows he'll ne'er be free,
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,
+No, no, no, no, no he'll ne'er be free again,
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,
+No, no, no, no, no he'll ne'er be free again.
+
+
+
+
+_Old_ SOLDIERS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Of old Soldiers, the Song you would hear,
+And we old Fidlers have forgot who they were,
+But all we remember shall come to your Ear,
+    _That we are old Soldiers of the Queens,_
+    _And the Queens old Soldiers._
+
+With the _Old Drake_, that was the next Man
+To _Old Franciscus_, who first it began,
+To sail through the Streights of _Magellan_,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+That put the proud _Spanish Armado_ to wrack,
+And Travell'd all o'er the old World, and came back,
+In his old Ship, laden with Gold and old Sack,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Cavendish_, that seconded him,
+And taught his old Sails the same Passage to swim,
+And did them therefore with Cloth of Gold Trim,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+Like an _Old Rawleigh_, that twice and again,
+Sailed over most part of the _Seas_, and then
+Travell'd all o'er the World with his Pen,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old John Norris_, the General,
+That at old _Gaunt_, made his Fame Immortal,
+In spight of his Foes, with no loss at all,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+Like _Old Brest Fort_, an invincible thing,
+When the old _Queen_ sent him to help the _French_ King,
+Took from the proud _Fox_, to the World's wond'ring,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+Where an old stout _Fryer_, as goes the Story,
+Came to push of Pike with him in Vain-glory,
+But he was almost sent to his own _Purgatory_,
+    _By this old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Ned Norris_, that kept _Ostend_,
+A terror to Foe, and a Refuge to Friend,
+And left it Impregnable to his last End,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+That in the old unfortunate Voyage of all,
+March'd o'er the old Bridge, and knock'd at the Wall,
+Of _Lisbon_, the Mistress of _Portugal_,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Tim Norris_, by the old _Queen_ sent,
+Of _Munster_ in _Ireland_, Lord President,
+Where his Days and his Blood in her service he spent,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Harry Norris_, in Battle wounded,
+In his Knee, whose Leg was cut off, and he said,
+You have spoil'd my Dancing, and dy'd in his Bed,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Will Norris_, the oldest of all,
+Who went voluntary, without any Call,
+To th' old _Irish_ Wars, to's Fame Immortal,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Dick Wenman_, the first in his Prime,
+That over the Walls of old _Cales_ did Clime,
+And there was Knighted, and liv'd all his Time,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With _Old Nando Wenman_, when _Brest_ was o'er thrown,
+Into the Air, into the Seas, with Gunpowder blown,
+Yet bravely recovering, long after was known,
+    _For an Old Soldier_, &c.
+
+When an _Old Tom Wenman_, whose bravest delight,
+Was in a good Cause for his Country to Fight,
+And dy'd in _Ireland_, a good old Knight,
+    _And an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With a Young _Ned Wenman_, so valiant and bold,
+In the Wars of _Bohemia_, as with the Old,
+Deserves for his Valour to be Enroll'd,
+    _An old Soldier_, &c.
+
+And thus of Old Soldiers, ye hear the Fame,
+But ne'er so many of one House and Name,
+And all of old _John Lord Viscount_ of _Thame_,
+    _An old Soldier of the Queens,_
+    _And the Queens old Soldier._
+
+
+
+
+_On the Tombs in_ Westminster Abby.
+
+
+_You must suppose it to be_ Easter _Holy-Days: At what time_ Sisly
+_and_ Dol, Kate _and_ Peggy, Moll _and_ Nan, _are marching to_
+Westminster, _with a Leash of Prentices before 'em; who go rowing
+themselves along with their right Arms to make more hast, and now and
+then with a greasie Muckender wipe away the dripping that bastes their
+Foreheads. At the Door they meet a crowd of_ Wapping _Sea-men_,
+Southwark _Broom-men, the Inhabitants of the_ Bank-Side, _with a
+Butcher or two prickt in among them. There a while they stand gaping
+for the Master of the Show, staring upon the Suburbs of their dearest
+delight, just as they stand gaping upon the painted Cloth before they
+go into the Puppet Play. By and by they hear the Bunch of Keys, which
+rejoyces their Hearts like the sound of the_ Pancake-Bell. _For now
+the Man of Comfort peeps over the Spikes, and beholding such a learned
+Auditory, opens the Gate of_ Paradise, _and by that time they are half
+got into the first Chapel, (for time is very precious) he lifts up his
+Voice among the Tombs, and begins his Lurrey in manner and form
+following._
+
+_To the foregoing Tune; In Imitation of the Old Soldiers._
+
+Here lies _William de Valence_,
+  A right good Earl of _Pembroke_,
+And this is his Monument which you see,
+  I'll swear upon a Book.
+
+He was high Marshal of _England_,
+  When _Henry_ the Third did Reign;
+But this you take upon my Word,
+  That he'll ne'er be so again.
+
+Here the Lord _Edward Talbot_ lies,
+  The Town of _Shrewsbury's_ Earl;
+Together with his Countess fair,
+  That was a most delicate Girl.
+
+The next to him there lyeth one,
+  Sir _Richard Peckshall_ hight;
+Of whom we only this do say,
+  He was a _Hampshire_ Knight.
+
+But now to tell you more of him,
+  There lies beneath this Stone:
+Two Wives of his, and Daughters four,
+  To all of Us unknown.
+
+Sir _Bernard Brockhurst_ there doth lie,
+  Lord Chamberlain to Queen _Ann_;
+Queen _Ann_ was _Richard_ the Second's Queen,
+  And was King of _England_.
+
+Sir _Francis Hollis_, the Lady _Frances_,
+  The same was _Suffolk's_ Dutchess;
+Two Children of _Edward_ the Third,
+  Lie here in Death's cold Clutches.
+
+This is the Third King _Edward's_ Brother,
+  Of whom our Records tell
+Nothing of Note, nor say they whether,
+  He be in Heaven or Hell.
+
+This same was _John_ of _Eldeston_,
+  He was no Costermonger;
+But _Cornwall's_ Earl, and here's one dy'd,
+  'Cause he could live no longer.
+
+The Lady _Mohun_, Dutchess of _York_,
+  And Duke of _York's_ Wife also;
+But Death resolv'd to Horn the Duke,
+  She lies now with Death below.
+
+The Lady _Ann Ross_, but wot ye well,
+  That she in Childbed dy'd;
+The Lady Marquiss of _Winchester_,
+  Lies Buried by her side.
+
+Now think your Penny well spent good Folks,
+  And that you're not beguil'd;
+Within this Cup doth lie the Heart
+  Of a _French Embassador's_ Child.
+
+But how the Devil it came to pass,
+  On purpose, or by chance;
+The Bowels they lie underneath,
+  The Body is in _France_.
+
+[Sidenote: Dol. _I warrant ye the_ Pharises _carried it away._]
+
+There's _Oxford's_ Countess, and there also
+  The Lady _Burleigh_ her Mother;
+And there her Daughter, a Countess too,
+  Lie close by one another.
+
+These once were bonny Dames, and tho'
+  There were no Coaches then,
+Yet could they jog their Tails themselves,
+  Or had them jogg'd by Men.
+
+[Sidenote: Dick. _Ho, ho, ho, I warrant ye they did as other Women
+did, ha_ Ralf. Ralf. _Oy, Oy._]
+
+But woe is me! those high born Sinners;
+  That went to pray so stoutly;
+Are now laid low, and 'cause they can't,
+  Their Statues pray devoutly.
+
+This is the Dutchess of _Somerset_,
+  By Name the Lady _Ann_;
+Her Lord _Edward_ the Sixth Protected,
+  Oh! he was a Gallant Man.
+
+[Sidenote: Tom. _I have heard a Ballad of him sang at_ Ratcliff Cross.
+Mol. _I believe we have it at home over our Kitchin Mantle-Tree._]
+
+In this fair Monument which you see,
+  Adorn'd with so many Pillars;
+Doth lie the Countess of _Buckingham_,
+  And her Husband, Sir _George Villers_.
+
+This old Sir _George_ was Grandfather,
+  And the Countess she was Granny;
+To the great Duke of _Buckingham_,
+  Who often topt King _Jammy_.
+
+Sir _Robert Eatam_, a _Scotch_ Knight,
+  This Man was Secretary;
+And scribl'd Compliments for two Queens,
+  Queen _Ann_, and eke Queen _Mary_.
+
+This was the Countess of _Lenox_,
+  Yclep'd the Lady _Marget_:
+King _James's_ Grandmother, and yet
+  'Gainst Death she had no Target.
+
+This was Queen _Mary_, Queen of _Scots_,
+  Whom _Buchanan_ doth bespatter;
+She lost her Head at _Tottingham_,
+  What ever was the Matter.
+
+[Sidenote: Dol. _How came she here then?_ Will. _Why ye silly Oafe
+could not she be brought here, after she was Dead?_]
+
+The Mother of our Seventh _Henry_,
+  This is that lyeth hard by;
+She was the Countess wot ye well,
+  Of _Richmond_ and of _Derby_.
+
+_Henry_ the Seventh lieth here,
+  With his fair Queen beside him,
+He was the Founder of this Chapel,
+  Oh! may no ill betide him.
+
+Therefore his Monument's in Brass,
+  You'll say that very much is;
+The Duke of _Richmond_ and _Lenox_,
+  There lieth with his Dutchess.
+
+[Sidenote: Rog. _I warrant ye these were no small Fools in those
+days._]
+
+And here they stand upright in a Press
+  With Bodies made of Wax;
+With a Globe and a Wand in either Hand,
+  And their Robes upon their Backs.
+
+Here lies the Duke of _Buckingham_,
+  And the Dutchess his Wife;
+Him _Felton_ Stabb'd at _Portsmouth_ Town,
+  And so he lost his Life.
+
+Two Children of King _James_ these are,
+  Whom Death keeps very chary;
+_Sophia_ in the Cradle lies,
+  And this is the Lady _Mary_.
+
+[Sidenote: Bess. _Good Woman pray still your Child, it keeps such a
+bawling, we can't hear what the Man says._]
+
+And this is Queen _Elizabeth_,
+  How the _Spaniards_ did infest her?
+Here she lies Buried, with Queen _Mary_,
+  And now agrees with her Sister.
+
+To another Chapel now we come,
+  The People follow and chat;
+This is the Lady _Cottington_,
+  And the People cry, who's that?
+
+This is the Lady _Frances Sidney_,
+  The Countess of _Suffolk_ was she;
+And this the Lord _Dudley Carleton_ is,
+  And then they look up and see.
+
+Sir _Thomas Brumley_ lieth here,
+  Death would him not reprieve;
+With his four Sons, and Daughters four,
+  That once were all alive.
+
+The next is Sir _John Fullerton_,
+  And this is his Lady I trow;
+And this is Sir _John Puckering_,
+  Whom none of you did know.
+
+That's the Earl of _Bridgwater_ in the middle,
+  Who makes no use of his Bladder;
+Although his Lady lie so near him,
+  And so we go up a Ladder.
+
+[Sidenote: Kate. _He took more pains, than I would ha done for a
+Hundred such._]
+
+_Edward_ the First, that Gallant Blade,
+  Lies underneath this Stone;
+And this is the Chair which he did bring,
+  A good while ago from _Scone_.
+
+In this same Chair, till now of late,
+  Our Kings and Queens were Crown'd;
+Under this Chair another Stone
+  Doth lie upon the Ground.
+
+[Sidenote: Ralf. _Gad I warrant there has been many a Maiden-head got
+in that Chair._ Tom. _Gad and I'll come hither and try one of these
+Days, an't be but to get a Prince._ Dol. _A_ Papist _I warrant him._]
+
+On that same Stone did _Jacob_ sleep,
+  Instead of a Down Pillow;
+And after that 'twas hither brought,
+  By some good honest Fellow.
+
+_Richard_ the Second lieth here,
+  And his first Queen, Queen _Ann_;
+_Edward_ the Third lies here hard by,
+  Oh! there was a Gallant Man.
+
+For this was his two handed Sword,
+  A Blade both true and Trusty;
+The _French_ Men's Blood was ne'er wip'd off,
+  Which makes it look so rusty.
+
+Here he lies again, with his Queen _Philip_,
+  A _Dutch_ Woman by Record,
+But that's all one, for now alass!
+  His Blade's not so long as his Sword.
+
+King _Edward_ the Confessor lies
+  Within this Monument fine;
+I'm sure, quoth one, a worser Tomb
+  Must serve both me and mine.
+
+_Harry_ the Fifth lies there, and there
+  Doth lie Queen _Eleanor_;
+To our first _Edward_ she was Wife,
+  Which was more than ye knew before.
+
+_Henry_ the Third lies there Entomb'd,
+  He was Herb _John_ in Pottage;
+Little he did, but still Reign'd on,
+  Although his Sons were at Age.
+
+Fifty six Years he Reigned King,
+  E'er he the Crown would lay by;
+Only we praise him, 'cause he was
+  Last Builder of the _Abby_.
+
+Here _Thomas Cecil_ lies, who's that?
+  Why 'tis the Earl of _Exeter_;
+And this his Countess is, to Die
+How it perplexed her.
+
+[Sidenote: Dol. _Ay, ay, I warrant her, rich Folks are as unwilling to
+die as poor Folks._]
+
+Here _Henry Cary_, Lord _Hunsdon_ rests,
+  What a noise he makes with his Name?
+Lord Chamberlain was he unto
+  Queen _Elizabeth_ of great Fame.
+
+[Sidenote: Sisly. _That's he for whom our Bells ring so often, is it
+not_ Mary? Mol. _Ay, ay, the very same._]
+
+And here's one _William Colchester_
+  Lies of a Certainty;
+An Abbot was he of _Westminster_,
+  And he that saith no, doth lie.
+
+This is the Bishop of _Durham_,
+  By Death here lay'd in Fetters;
+_Henry_ the Seventh lov'd him well,
+  And so he wrote his Letters.
+
+Sir _Thomas Bacchus_, what of him?
+  Poor Gentleman not a Word;
+Only they Buried him here; but now
+  Behold that Man with a Sword.
+
+_Humphry de Bohun_, who though he were
+  Not born with me i'the same Town;
+Yet I can tell he was Earl of _Essex_,
+  Of _Hertford_, and _Northampton_.
+
+He was High Constable of _England_,
+  As History well expresses;
+But now pretty Maids be of good Chear,
+  We're going up to the Presses.
+
+And now the Presses open stand,
+  And ye see them all arow;
+But never no more are said of these
+  Then what is said below.
+
+Now down the Stairs come we again,
+  The Man goes first with a Staff;
+Some two or three tumble down the Stairs,
+  And then the People laugh.
+
+This is the great Sir _Francis Vere_,
+  That so the _Spaniards_ curry'd;
+Four Colonels support his Tomb,
+  And here his Body's Buried.
+
+That _Statue_ against the _Wall_ with one Eye,
+  Is Major General _Norris_;
+He beat the _Spaniards_ cruelly,
+  As is affirm'd in Stories.
+
+[Sidenote: Dick. _I warrant ye he had two, if he could have but kep'd
+'em._]
+
+His six Sons there hard by him stand,
+  Each one was a Commander;
+To shew he could a Lady serve,
+  As well as the _Hollander_.
+
+And there doth Sir _John Hollis_ rest,
+  Who was the Major General;
+To Sir _John Norris_, that brave blade,
+  And so they go to Dinner all.
+
+For now the Shew is at an end,
+  All things are done and said;
+The Citizen pays for his Wife,
+  The Prentice for the Maid.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _Sung by Mrs._ CAMPION, _in the Comedy call'd_, she wou'd and
+she wou'd not. _By Mr._ JOHN WELDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Cælia_ my Heart has often rang'd,
+  Like Bees o'er Gaudy Flowers;
+And many Thousand Loves have chang'd,
+  'Till it was fix'd, 'till it was fix'd on yours;
+But _Cælia_ when I saw those Eyes,
+  'Twas soon, 'twas soon determin'd there;
+Stars might as well forsake the Skies,
+  And Vanish into Air:
+Stars might as well forsake the Skies,
+  And Vanish into Air.
+
+Now if from the great Rules I err,
+  New Beauties, new Beauties to admire;
+May I again, again turn wanderer,
+  And never, never, never, never, never, no, never,
+  Never, never, never, never, never, never, never,
+  Never, never, never, settle more:
+May I again, again turn wanderer,
+  And never, never, never, never, never, no, never,
+  Never, never, never, never, never, never, never,
+  Never, never, never, settle more.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _made for the Entertainment of her Royal Highness. Set by
+Mr._ LEVERIDGE. _Sung by Mrs._ LINDSEY _in_ CALIGULA.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Tho' over all Mankind, besides my conquering Beauty,
+Conquering beauty, my conquering beauty Reigns;
+My conquering Beauty Reigns;
+From him I love, from him I love when I meet disdain,
+A killing damp, a killing damp comes o'er my Pride:
+I'm fair and young, I'm fair and young,
+I'm fair and young in vain:
+I'm fair and young, I'm fair and young,
+I'm fair and young in vain;
+No, no, no, let him wander where he will,
+Let him wander, let him wander,
+Let him wander, let him wander where he will,
+I shall have Youth and Beauty, Youth and Beauty,
+  Youth and Beauty,
+I shall have Youth and Beauty, Youth and Beauty still;
+I shall have Beauty that can charm a _Jove_,
+Can Charm a _Jove_, and no fault,
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no fault, no, no, no fault,
+  But constant Love:
+From my Arms then let him fly, fly, fly,
+From my Arms then let him fly;
+Shall I languish, pine, and dye?
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no not I.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the Fair_ PENITENT. _Set by Mr._ ECCLES. _Sung by Mrs._
+HUDSON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Stay, ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou'd you fly?
+Ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou'd you fly?
+Whither, whither wou'd you fly?
+Too Charming, too Charming, too relentless Maid,
+I follow not to conquer, not to conquer,
+I follow not to conquer, but to dye:
+You of the fearful, of the fearful are afraid,
+Ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou'd you fly?
+Whither, whither, whither, whither, ah whither wou'd you fly?
+
+In vain, in vain I call, in vain, in vain I call,
+While she like fleeting, fleeting Air;
+When press'd by some tempestuous Wind,
+Flys swifter from the voice of my Despair:
+Nor cast a pitying, pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying look,
+Not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind.
+
+
+
+
+_A new_ SONG. _The Words by Mr._ Tho. Wall. _Set to Musick by Mr._
+Henry Eccles, _Junior._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+No more let _Damon's_ Eyes pursue,
+No more let _Damon's_ Eyes pursue,
+  The bright enchanting Fair;
+_Almira_ thousands, thousands, thousands can undo,
+  And thousands more, and thousands more,
+  And thousands more may still despair,
+  And thousands more may still despair.
+
+For oh her bright alluring Eyes,
+  And Graces all admire;
+For her the wounded Lover dies,
+And ev'ry Breast, and ev'ry Heart,
+  And ev'ry Breast is set on Fire.
+
+Then oh poor _Damon_, see thy Fate,
+  But never more complain;
+For all a Thousand Hearts will stake,
+And all may sigh, and all may die,
+  And all may sigh and die in vain.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ DEAR JOY'S _Lamentation._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Ho my dear Joy, now what dost thou think?
+Hoop by my shoul our Country-men stink;
+To _Ireland_ they can never return,
+The Hereticks there our Houses will burn:
+  _Ah hone, ah hone, ah hone a cree._
+
+A Pox on _T----l_ for a Son of a W----,
+He was the cause of our coming o'er;
+And when to _Dublin_ we came to put on our Coats,
+He told us his business was cutting of Throats.
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+Our Devil has left us now in the Lurch,
+A Plague light upon the _Protestant_ C----
+If _P----s_ had let but the Bishops alone,
+O then the Nation had all been our own.
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+And I wish other Measures had been taken,
+For now I fear we shan't save our Bacon;
+Now _Orange_ to _London_ is coming down-right,
+And the Soldiers against him resolve not to Fight
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+What we shall do, the Lord himself knows,
+Our Army is beaten without any blows;
+Our M----r begins to feel some remorse,
+For the Grey Mare has proved the better Horse.
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+If the _French_ do but come, which is all our Hopes,
+We'll bundle the Hereticks all up with Ropes;
+If _London_ stands to us as _Bristol_ has done,
+We need not fear but _Orange_ must run.
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+But if they prove false, and to _Orange_ they scower,
+By G---- all the M---- shall play from the _Tower_;
+Our Massacree fresh in their Memories grown,
+The Devil tauk me, we all shall go down.
+  _A hone, a hone, a hone a Cree._
+
+
+
+
+_The Character of a_ Seat's-man; _written by one of the_ CRAFT: _To be
+Sung on_ CRISPIN-Night. _Tune_ Packington's Pound.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I am one in whom Nature has fix'd a Decree,
+Ordaining my Life to happy and free;
+With no Cares of the World I am never perplex'd,
+And never depending, I never am vex'd:
+I'm neither of so high nor so low a degree,
+But Ambition and Want are both strangers to me;
+My life is a compound of Freedom and Ease,
+I go where I will, and I work when I please:
+I live above Envy, and yet above Spight,
+And have Judgment enough for to do my self right;
+Some greater and richer I own there may be,
+Yet as many live worse, as live better than me,
+And few that from Cares live so quiet and free.
+
+When Money comes in I live well 'till it's gone,
+So with it I'm happy, Content when I've none:
+I spend it Genteelly, and never repent,
+If I lose it at Play, why I count it but Lent:
+For that which at one time I Lose among Friends,
+Another Night's Winnings still makes me amends:
+And though I'm without the first Day of the Week,
+I still make it out by Shift or by Tick:
+In Mirth at my Work the swift Hours do pass,
+And by _Saturday_ Night, I'm as rich as I was.
+
+Then let Masters drudge on, and be Slaves to their Trade,
+Let their Hours of Pleasure by Business be stay'd;
+Let them venture their Stocks to be ruin'd by Trust,
+Let Clickers bark on the whole Day at their Post:
+Let 'em tire all that pass with their rotified Cant,
+"Will you buy any Shoes, pray see what you want";
+Let the rest of the World still contend to be great,
+Let some by their Losses repine at their Fate:
+Let others that Thrive, not content with their store,
+Be plagu'd with the Trouble and Thoughts to get more.
+
+Let wise Men invent, 'till the World be deceived,
+Let Fools thrive thro' Fortune, and Knaves be believed;
+Let such as are rich know no Want, but Content,
+Let others be plagu'd to pay Taxes and Rent:
+With more Freedom and Pleasure my Time I'll employ,
+And covet no Blessings but what we enjoy.
+
+Then let's celebrate _Crispin_ with Bumpers and Songs,
+And they that drink Foul, may it blister their Tongues,
+Here's two in a Hand, and let no one deny 'em,
+Since _Crispin_ in Youth was a _Seat's-man_ as I am.
+
+
+
+
+_The Female Scuffle. To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+Of late in the Park a fair Fancy was seen,
+Betwixt an old _Baud_ and a lusty young _Quean_;
+Their parting of Money began the uproar,
+I'll have half says the _Baud_, but you shan't says the _Whore_:
+    Why 'tis my own House,
+    I care not a Louse,
+I'll ha' three parts in four, or you get not a Souse.
+
+'Tis I, says the _Whore_, must take all the Pains,
+And you shall be damn'd e'er you get all the Gains;
+The _Baud_ being vex'd, straight to her did say,
+Come off wi' your _Duds_, and I pray pack away,
+And likewise your _Ribbonds_, your _Gloves_, and your _Hair_,
+For naked you came, and so out you go bare;
+    Then _Buttocks_ so bold,
+    Began for to Scold,
+_Hurrydan_ was not able her _Clack_ for to hold.
+
+Both _Pell-Mell_ fell to't, and made this uproar,
+With these Compliments, th'art a _Baud_, th'art a _Whore_:
+The _Bauds_ and the _Buttocks_ that liv'd there around,
+Came all to the Case, both _Pockey_ and _Sound_,
+To see what the reason was of this same Fray,
+That did so disturb them before it was Day;
+    If I tell you amiss,
+    Let me never more Piss,
+This _Buttocks_ so bold she named was _Siss_.
+
+By _Quiffing_ with _Cullies_ three Pound she had got,
+And but one part of four must fall to her Lot;
+Yet all the _Bauds_ cry'd, let us turn her out bare,
+Unless she will yield to return her half share;
+If she will not, we'll help to strip off her Cloaths,
+And turn her abroad with a slit o' the Nose:
+    Who when she did see,
+    There was no Remedy,
+For her from the Tyranous _Bauds_ to get free;
+The _Whore_ from the Money was forced to yield,
+And in the Conclusion the _Baud_ got the Field.
+
+
+
+
+_An Elegy on_ MOUNTFORT. _To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+Poor _Mountfort_ is gone, and the Ladies do all
+Break their Hearts for this Beau, as they did for _Duvall_;
+And they the two Brats for this Tragedy damn
+At _Kensington_ Court, and the Court of _Bantam_,
+    They all vow and Swear,
+    That if any Peer,
+Should acquit this young Lord, he shou'd pay very dear;
+Nor will they be pleased with him who on the Throne is,
+If he do's not his part to revenge their _Adonis_.
+
+With the Widow their amorous Bowels do yearn,
+There are divers pretend to an equal Concern;
+And by her Perswasion their Hearts they reveal,
+In case if not guilty, to bring an Appeal:
+    They all will unite,
+    The young Blade to indite,
+And in Prosecution will joyn Day and Night;
+In the mean time full many a Tear and a Groan is,
+Wherever they meet, for their departed _Adonis_.
+
+With the Ladies foul Murther's a horrible Sin
+Of one Handsome without, tho' a Coxcomb within;
+For not being a Beau, the sad Fate of poor _Crab_,
+Tho' himself hang'd for Love, was a Jest to each Drab;
+    Then may _Jering_ live long,
+    And may _Risby_ among
+The Fair with _Jack Barkley_, and _Culpepper_ throng:
+May no Ruffin whose Heart as hard as a Stone is,
+Kill any of those for a Brother _Adonis_.
+
+No Lady henceforth can be safe with her Beau,
+They think if this Slaughter unpunish'd should go;
+Their Gallants, for whose Persons they most are in Pain,
+Must no sooner be envy'd, but strait must be Slain:
+    For all _B----_ shape,
+    None car'd for the Rape,
+Nor whether the Virtuous their Lust did escape;
+Their Trouble of Mind, and their anguish alone is,
+For the too sudden Fate of departed _Adonis_.
+
+Let not every vain Spark think that he can engage,
+The Heart of a Female, like one on the Stage;
+His Flute, and his Voice, and his Dancing are rare,
+And wherever they meet, they prevail with the Fair:
+    But no quality Fop,
+    Charms like Mr. _Hop_,
+Adorn'd on the Stage, and in _East-India_ Shop;
+So that each from _Miss Felton_, to ancient _Drake Joan_ is,
+Bemoaning the Death of the Player _Adonis_.
+
+Yet _Adonis_ in spight of this new Abjuration,
+Did banter the lawful King of this great Nation:
+Who call'd God's anointed a foolish old Prig,
+Was both a base and unmannerly _Whigg_:
+    But since he is Dead
+    No more shall be said,
+For he in Repentance has laid down his Head;
+So I wish each Lady, who in mournful Tone is,
+In Charity Grieve for the Death of _Adonis_.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ JAMES TOWNSHEND, _Organist of_ LYN RIGES. _The Words by_
+J.R.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Fly _Damon_ fly, 'tis Death to stay,
+  Nor listen to the _Syren's_ Song;
+Nor hear her warbling Fingers play,
+  That kills in Consort with her Tongue:
+Oft to despairing Shepherds Verse,
+  Unmov'd she tunes the trembling Strings;
+Oft does some pitying Words rehearse,
+  But little means the thing she Sings.
+
+Cease on her lovely Looks to gaze,
+  Nor court your Ruin in her Eyes;
+Her Looks too 's dangerous as her Face,
+  At once engages and Destroys:
+Speak not if you'd avoid your Fate,
+  For then she darts Resentment home;
+But fly, fly _Damon_ e'er too late,
+  Or else be Deaf, be Blind, be Dumb.
+
+
+
+
+MERCURY _to_ PARIS, _in the Prize Musick, Compos'd by Mr._ John
+Eccles.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Fear not Mortal, none shall harm thee,
+With this Sacred Rod I'll Charm thee;
+Freely gaze, and view all over,
+Thou mayst every Grace discover:
+Though a thousand Darts fly round thee,
+Fear not Mortal, none can Wound thee;
+  _Though a thousand Darts fly round thee,_
+  _Fear not Mortal, none can Wound thee._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ W. Morley.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Born to surprize the World,
+Born to surprize the World, and teach the Great,
+The slippery Danger of exalted State;
+Victorious _Marlborough_, Victorious _Marlborough_, to Battle flies,
+Arm'd, Arm'd with new Lightning from bright _Anna's_ Eyes:
+Wonders, Wonders like these no former Age has seen,
+The Subjects Heroes, the Subjects Heroes, and a Saint the Queen.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ J. ISUM.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In vain, in vain, in vain, in vain, in vain,
+  In vain the God I ask,
+  He'll ne'er remove the Dart;
+And still I love the pretty, pretty Boy,
+  Altho', altho' he wound my Heart:
+Henceforth I'll be contented then,
+  No more will I desire;
+  No, no, no more, no, no, no more will I desire,
+To slight her whom I love so much,
+  That but creates the Fire:
+Well might I expect the Fate,
+  As well as any other;
+Since he ne'er spares the Gods themselves,
+  Nor does he spare his Mother.
+
+
+
+
+_An Amorous_ SONG. _To the Tune of_, The bonny Christ-Church Bells.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+See how fair and fine she lies,
+      Upon her Bridal Bed;
+    No Lady at the Court,
+    So fit for the Sport,
+  Oh she look'd so curiously White and Red:
+After the first and second time,
+  The weary Bridegroom slacks his Pace;
+But Oh! she cries, come, come my Joy,
+  And cling thy Cheek close to my Face:
+Tinkle, tinkle, goes the Bell under the Bed,
+  Whilst Time and Touch they keep;
+    Then with a Kiss,
+    They end their Bliss,
+  And so fall fast asleep.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ J. ISUM.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you,
+_Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you,
+Where's the harm in saying so?
+_Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you,
+Where's the harm in saying so?
+Why shou'd my Sighs, why shou'd my Sighs,
+Why shou'd my Sighs and Fondness move you?
+To encrease, to encrease your Shepherd's Woe:
+Flame pent in still burns and scorches,
+'Till it burns a Lover's Heart:
+Love declar'd like lighted Torches,
+Wastes it self and gives less Pain:
+Love declar'd like lighted Torches,
+Wastes it self, wastes it self,
+Wastes it self, and gives less Smart.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ JOHN ISUM.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Cælia's_ Charms are past expressing,
+  Were she kind as she is Fair;
+_Cælia's_ Charms are past expressing,
+  Were she kind as she is Fair:
+Heav'ns cou'd grant no greater Blessing,
+  Nor Earth a Nymph more worth our Care;
+Heav'ns cou'd grant no greater Blessing,
+  Nor Earth a Nymph, nor Earth a Nymph more worth our Care.
+
+But Unkindness, Unkindness mars her Beauty,
+  And useless makes that Heav'nly,
+  That Heav'nly, that Heav'nly frame;
+But Unkindness mars her Beauty,
+  And useless makes that Heav'nly, Heav'nly frame:
+While she mistakes and calls that Duty,
+  Which ill Nature others name:
+While she mistakes and calls that Duty,
+  Which ill Nature others name.
+
+
+
+
+_The Hopeful Bargain: Or a Fare for a Hackney-Coachman, giving a
+Comical relation, how an_ Ale-draper _at the Sign of the_
+Double-tooth'd Rake _in or near the new_ Palace-yard, Westminster,
+_Sold his Wife for a Shilling, and how she was sold a Second time for
+five Shillings to_ JUDGE; _My Lord ---- Coachman, and how her Husband
+receiv'd her again after she had lain with other Folks three Days and
+Nights_, &c. _The Tune_ Lilly Bullero.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There lives an Ale-draper near _New-palace-yard_,
+  Who used to Jerk the Bum of his Wife;
+And she was forced to stand on her Guard,
+  To keep his Clutches from her Quoiff:
+She poor Soul the weaker Vessel,
+  To be reconcil'd was easily won;
+He held her in scorn,
+  But she Crown'd him with Horn,
+    _Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run._
+
+He for a Shilling sold his Spouse,
+  And she was very willing to go;
+And left the poor Cuckold alone in the House,
+  That he by himself his Horn might blow:
+A Hackney Coachman he did buy her,
+  And was not this a very good Fun;
+With a dirty Pinner,
+  As I am a Sinner,
+    _Without Hood or Scarff, but rough as she run._
+
+The Woman gladly did depart,
+  Between three Men was handed away;
+He for her Husband did care not a Fart,
+  He kept her one whole Night and Day:
+Then honest _Judge_ the Coachman bought her,
+  And was not this most cunningly done?
+Gave for her five Shilling,
+To take her was willing,
+    _Without Hood or Scarff_, &c.
+
+The Cuckold to _Judge_, a Letter did send,
+  Wherein he did most humbly crave;
+Quoth he, I prithee, my Rival Friend,
+  My Spouse again I fain would have:
+And if you will but let me have her,
+  I'll pardon what she e'er has done;
+I swear by my Maker,
+Again I will take her,
+    _Without Hood and Scarff_, &c.
+
+He sent an old Baud to interceed,
+  And to perswade her to come back;
+That he might have one of her delicate breed,
+  And he would give her a ha'p'uth of Sack:
+Therefore prithee now come to me,
+  Or else poor I shall be undone:
+Then do not forgo me,
+But prithee come to me,
+    _Without Hood or Scarff, tho' rough_, &c.
+
+The Coachman then with much ado,
+  Did suffer the Baud to take her out;
+Upon the Condition that she would be true,
+  And let him have now and then a Bout:
+But he took from her forty Shillings,
+  And gave her a parting Glass at the _Sun_;
+And then with good buyt' ye,
+Discharged his Duty,
+    _And turn'd her a grazing, rough as she run._
+
+The Cuckold invited the Coachman to dine,
+  And gave him a Treat at his own Expence;
+They drown'd all Cares in full brimmers of Wine,
+  He made him as welcome as any Prince:
+There was all the Hungregation,
+  Which from _Cuckolds-Point_ was come;
+They kissed and fumbled,
+They touzed and tumbled,
+    _He was glad to take her rough as she run._
+
+_Judge_ does enjoy her where he list,
+  He values not the old Cuckold's Pouts;
+And she is as good for the Game as e'er pist,
+  Fudge on his Horns sits drying of Clouts:
+She rants and revels when she pleases,
+  And to end as I begun,
+The Horned Wise-acre,
+Is forced to take her
+    _Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run._
+
+
+
+
+_The_ MAIDEN LOTTERY: _Containing 70 Thousand Tickets, at a Guinea
+each; the Prizes being Rich and Loving Husbands, from three Thousand
+to one Hundred a Year, which Lottery will begin to draw on next_
+VALENTINE'S _Day._
+
+_Then pretty Lasses venture now,_
+_Kind_ Fortune _may her Smiles alow._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Young Ladies that live in the City,
+  Sweet beautiful proper and Tall;
+And Country Maids who dabling wades,
+  Here's happy good News for you all:
+A Lottery now out of hand,
+  Erected will be in the _Strand_;
+Young Husbands with Treasure, and Wealth out of measure
+  Will fairly be at your Command:
+_Of her that shall light of a Fortunate Lot,_
+  _There's Six of three Thousand a Year to be got._
+
+I tell you the Price of each Ticket,
+  It is but a Guinea, I'll vow;
+Then hasten away, and make no delay,
+  And fill up the Lottery now:
+If _Gillian_ that lodges in Straw,
+  Shall have the good Fortune to draw
+A Knight or a 'Squire, he'll never deny her,
+  'Tis fair and according to Law;
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There's Ten of two Thousand a Year to be got._
+
+The number is Seventy Thousand,
+  When all the whole Lot is compleat;
+Five Hundred of which, are Prizes most rich,
+  Believe me for this is no Cheat:
+There's Drapers and Taylors likewise,
+  Brave Men that you cannot despise;
+Come _Bridget_ and _Jenny_, and throw in your Guinea,
+  A Husband's a delicate Prize:
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There's Ten of one Thousand a Year to be got._
+
+Suppose you should win for your Guinea,
+  A Man of three Thousand a Year;
+Would this not be brave; what more would you have?
+  You soon might in Glory appear:
+In glittering Coach you may ride,
+  With Lackeys to run by your side;
+For why should you spare it? Faith win Gold and wear it;
+  Now who would not be such a Bride?
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There's Sixty, Five Hundreds a Year to be got._
+
+Old Widows, and Maids above Forty,
+  Shall not be admitted to draw:
+There's five Hundred and Ten, as proper young Men,
+  Indeed, as your Eyes ever saw:
+Who scorns for one Guinea of Gold,
+  To lodge with a Woman that's Old;
+Young Maids are admitted, in hopes to be fitted,
+  With Husbands couragious and bold:
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There are wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got._
+
+Kind Men that are full of good Nature,
+  The flaxen, the black, and the brown;
+Both lusty and stout, and fit to hold out,
+  The prime and the top of the Town:
+So clever in every part,
+  They'll please a young Girl to the Heart;
+Nay, kiss you, and squeese you, and tenderly please you,
+  For Love has a conquering Dart:
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There are Wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got._
+
+Then never be fearful to venture,
+  But Girls bring you Guineas away;
+Come merrily in, for we shall begin,
+  To draw upon _Valentine's_ Day:
+The Prizes are many and great,
+  Each Man with a worthy Estate;
+Then come away _Mary_, _Sib_, _Susan_, and _Sarah_,
+  _Joan_, _Nancy_, and pretty fac'd _Kate_:
+_For now is the time if you'll purchase a Lot,_
+_While Wealthy kind Husbands they are to be got._
+
+Amongst you I know there is many,
+  Will miss of a Capital Prize:
+Yet nevertheless, no Sorrows express,
+  But dry up your watry Eyes:
+Young Lasses it is but in vain,
+  In sorrowful Sighs to complain;
+Then ne'er be faint hearted, tho' Luck be departed,
+  For all cannot reckon to gain:
+_Yet venture young Lasses, your Guineas bring in,_
+_The Lucky will have the good Fortune to win._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _on the_ JUBILEE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come Beaus, Virtuoso's, rich Heirs and Musicians
+  Away, and in Troops to the _Jubile_ jog;
+Leave Discord and Death, to the College Physicians,
+  Let the Vig'rous whore on, and the impotent Flog:
+Already _Rome_ opens her Arms to receive ye,
+And ev'ry Transgression her Lord will forgive ye.
+
+Indulgences, Pardons, and such Holy Lumber,
+  As cheap there is now as our Cabbages grown;
+While musty old Relicks of Saints without number,
+  For barely the looking upon, shall be shown:
+These, were you an Atheist, must needs overcome ye,
+That first were made Martyrs, and afterwards Mummy.
+
+They'll shew ye the River, so Sung by the Poets,
+  With the Rock from whence, Mortals were knockt o'th' Head;
+They'll shew ye the place too, as some will avow it,
+  Where once a She Pope was brought fairly to Bed:
+For which, ever since, to prevent Interloping,
+  In a Chair her Successors still suffer a Groping.
+
+What a sight 'tis to see the gay Idol accoutred,
+  With Mitre and Cap, and two Keys by his side;
+Be his inside what 'twill, yet the Pomp of his outward,
+  Shows _Servus servorum_, no hater of Pride,
+These Keys into Heav'n will as surely admit ye,
+As Clerks of a Parish to a Pew in the City.
+
+What a sight 'tis to see the old Man in Procession,
+  Through _Rome_ in such Pomp as here _Cæsar_ did ride,
+Now scattering of Pardons, here Crossing, there Blessing,
+  With all his shav'd Spiritual Train'd-bans by his side;
+As, _Confessors_, _Cardinals_, _Monks_ fat as Bacons,
+From Rev'rend _Arch-Bishops_, to Rosie _Arch-Deacons_.
+
+Then for your Diversion the more to regale ye,
+  Fine Music you'll hear, and high Dancing you'll see;
+Men who much shall out-warble your Famous _Fideli_,
+  And make ye meer Fools, of _Balloon_ and _L'Abbe_:
+And to shew ye how fond they're to Kiss _Vostre Manos_,
+  Each _Padre_ turns Pimp, all _Nuns_ Courtezana's.
+
+And when you've some Months at old _Babylon_ been-_a_,
+  And on Pardons, and Punks, all your _Rhino_ is spent;
+And when you have seen all, that there is to be seen-_a_,
+  You'll return not so Rich, tho' as Wise as you went:
+And 'twill be but small Comfort after so much Expence-_a_,
+  That your Heirs will do just so an Hundred Years hence-_a_.
+
+
+
+
+_A Young Man's_ WILL.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A _Young Man_ sick and like to die,
+  His last _Will_ being written found;
+I give my _Soul_ to _God_ on high,
+  And my _Body_ to the Ground:
+Unto some _Church-men_ do I give,
+  Base Minds to greedy Lucre bent;
+_Pride_ and _Ambition_ whilst they live,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+_Item._ Poor folks _brown Bread_ I give,
+  And eke _bare Bones_, with hungry Cheeks;
+_Toil_ and _Travel_ whilst they live,
+  And to feed on _Roots_ and _Leeks_:
+_Item._ To Rich Men I bestow,
+  High _Looks_, low _Deeds_, and Hearts of Flint;
+And that themselves they seldom know,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+Proud stately _Courtiers_ do I _Will_,
+  Two Faces in one Head to wear,
+For Great Men _Bribes_, I think most fit,
+  _Pride_ and _Oppression_ through the Year:
+_Tenants_ I give them leave to lose,
+  And _Landlords_ for to raise their _Rent_;
+_Rogues_ to Fawn, Collogue and glose,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+_Item._ To _Soldiers_ for their _Fees_,
+  I give them _Wounds_ their Bodies full;
+And for to beg on bended Knees,
+  With Cap in Hand to every _Gull_:
+_Item_. I will poor _Scholars_ have,
+  For all their Pains and Travel spent:
+_Raggs_, _Jaggs_, and _Taunts_ of every Knave,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+To _Shoemakers_ I grant this Boon,
+  Which _Mercury_ gave them once before;
+Altho' they earn two Pence by Noon,
+  To spend e'er Night two Groats and more:
+And _Blacksmiths_ when the Work is done,
+  I give to them incontinent,
+To drink two Barrels with a Bun,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+To _Weavers_ swift, this do I leave,
+  Against that may beseem them well:
+That they their good Wives do deceive,
+  Bring home a Yard and steal an Ell:
+And _Taylors_ too must be set down,
+  A _Gift_ to give them I am bent;
+To cut four Sleeves to every Gown,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+To Tavern haunters grant I more,
+  Red Eyes, Red Nose, and Stinking Breath;
+And Doublets foul with drops before,
+  And foul Shame until their _Death_:
+And _Gamesters_ that will never leave,
+  Before their Substance be all spent;
+The Wooden _Dagger_ I bequeath,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+To common Fidlers I _Will_ that they,
+  Shall go in poor and thread-bare Coats;
+And at most places where they Play,
+  To carry away more _Tunes_ than _Groats_:
+To wand'ring _Players_ I do give,
+  Before their _Substance_ be all spent;
+Proud Silk'n _Beggars_ for to live,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+To _Wenching_ Smell-smocks give I these,
+  Dead looks, gaunt purrs, and crasy Back;
+And now and then the foul _Disease_,
+  Such as _Gill_ gave to _Jack_;
+To _Parretors_ I give them clear,
+  For all their _Toil_ and _Travel_ spent;
+The _Devil_ away such _Knaves_ to bear,
+  By _this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+I _Will_ that _Cutpurses_ haunt all _Fairs_,
+  And thrust among the thickest Throng;
+That neither _Purse_ nor _Pocket_ spare,
+  But what they get to bear along:
+But if they Falter in their Trade,
+  And so betray their bad intent;
+I give them _Tyburn_ for their share,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+To serving Men I give this Gift,
+  That when their Strength is once decay'd;
+The Master of such Men do shift,
+  As Horsemen do a toothless _Jade_:
+_Item._ I give them leave to _Pine_,
+  For all their Service so ill spent:
+And with _Duke Humphry_ for to Dine,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+_Item._ To _Millers_ I Grant withal,
+  That they Spare, nor Poke, nor Sack;
+But with _Grist_, so e'er befal,
+  They Grind a Strike, and steal a Peck:
+I _Will_ that _Butchers_ Huff their Meat,
+  And sell a lump of _Ramish_ scent;
+For Weather Mutton good and sweet,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+I _Will_ Ale Wives punish their Guests,
+  With hungry Cakes and little Canns;
+And Barm their Drink with new found _Yeest_,
+  Such as is made of _Pispot_ Grounds:
+And she that meaneth for to Gain,
+  And in her House have Money spent,
+I _Will_ she keep a pretty Punck,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+To jealous Husbands I do grant,
+  Lack of Pleasure, want of Sleep;
+That Lanthorn Horns they never want,
+  Tho' ne'er so close their Wives they keep:
+And for their Wives, I _Will_ that they,
+  The closer up that they are pent;
+The closer still they seek to Play,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+For Swearing _Swaggerers_ nought is left,
+  To give them for a parting Blow;
+But leaving off of damned Oaths,
+  And that of them I will bestow:
+_Item._ I give them for their Pain,
+  That when all Hope and Livelihood's spent,
+A Wallet or a Hempen Chain,
+  _By this_ &c.
+
+Time and longest Livers do I make,
+  The Supervisor of my _Will_:
+My Gold and Silver let them take,
+  That will dig for't in _Malvein_ Hill.
+
+
+
+
+_A New_ SONG, _Sung at the Playhouse. By Mr._ DOGGET.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In the Devil's Country there lately did dwell,
+  A crew of such Whores as was ne'er bred in Hell,
+The Devil himself he knows it full well,
+  _Which no Body can deny, deny;_
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+There were Six of the Gang, and all of a Bud,
+Which open'd as soon as got into the Blood,
+There are five to be hang'd, when the other proves good,
+  _Which no Body_, &c.
+
+But it seems they have hitherto sav'd all their Lives,
+Since they cou'd not live honest, there's four made Wives,
+The other two they are not Marry'd but Sw----s,
+  _Which no Body_, &c.
+
+The Eldest the Matron of t'other Five Imps,
+Though as Chast as _Diana_, or any o'th' Nymphs,
+Yet rather than Daughter shall want it, she Pimps,
+  _Which no Body_, &c.
+
+Damn'd Proud and Ambitious both Old and the Young,
+And not fit for honest Men to come among,
+A damn'd Itch in their Tail, and a sting in their Tongue,
+  _Sing tantara rara Whores all, Whores all,_
+  _Sing tantara rara Whores all._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Marriage it seems is for Better for Worse,
+Some count it a Blessing and others a Curse;
+The Cuckolds are Blest if the Proverb prove true,
+And then there's no doubt but in Heav'n there's enough:
+Of honest rich Rogues who ne'er had got there,
+If their Wives had not sent them thro' trembling and fear.
+
+Some Women are Honest, tho' rare in a Wife,
+Yet with Scolding and Brawling they'll shorten your Life,
+You ne'er can enjoy your Bottle and Friend;
+But your Wife like an Imp, is at your Elbow's end:
+Crying fie, fie you Sot, come, come, come, come,
+So these are Unhappy abroad and at home.
+
+We find the Batchelor liveth best,
+Tho' Drunk or Sober he takes his rest;
+He never is troubl'd with Scolding or Strife,
+'Tis the best can be said of a very good Wife:
+But merrily Day and Night does spend,
+Enjoying his Mistress, Bottle, and Friend.
+
+A Woman out-wits us, do what we can,
+She'll make a Fool of ev'ry Wise Man;
+Old Mother _Eve_ did the _Serpent_ obey,
+And has taught all her Sex that damnable way:
+Of Cheating and Couzening all Mankind,
+'Twere better if _Adam_ had still been Blind.
+
+The poor Man that Marries he thinks he does well,
+I pity's Condition, for sure he's in Hell;
+The Fool is a Sotting and spends all he gets,
+The Child is a Bawling, the Wife daily Frets:
+That Marriage is pleasant we all must agree,
+Consider it well, there's none happier can be.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+The _Caffalier_ was gone, and the _Roundhead_ he was come,
+Was the greatest Blessing under the Sun;
+Before the Devil in Hell sally'd out, and ript the Placket of Letter,
+Ay, and take her Money too,
+  _Cot bless hur Master_ Roundhead, _and send hur well to do._
+
+Now hur can go to _Shrewsperry_ her Flannel for to sell,
+Hur can carry a creat sharge of Money about hur,
+Thirty or Forty Groats lap'd in a _Welsh_ Carter,
+Ay, and think hur self rich too,
+  _Cot bless_, &c.
+
+Now hur can coe to Shurch, or hur can stay at home,
+Hur can say hur _Lord's Prayer_, or hur can let it alone:
+Hur can make a Prayer of hur own Head, lye with hur Holy Sister,
+Ay, and say a long Crace too,
+  _Cot bless_, &c.
+
+But yet for all the great Cood that you for hur have done,
+Would you wou'd made Peace with our King, and let hur come home,
+Put off the Military Charge, Impost, and Excise,
+Ay, and free Quarter too.
+  _Then Cot shall bless you Master_ Roundhead, _and send hur well to do._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _Sung by Mrs._ CROSS. _Set by Mr._ JEREMIAH CLARK.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Divine _Astrea_ hither flew,
+  To _Cynthia's_ brighter Throne;
+She left the Iron World below,
+  To bless the Silver Moon:
+_She left the Iron World below,_
+  _To bless the Silver Moon._
+
+Tho' _Phoebus_ with his hotter Beams,
+  Do's Gold in Earth Create;
+That leads those wretches to Extreams,
+  Of Av'rice, Lust, and Hate.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the_ Surpriz'd Lovers. _Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _Sung by
+Mr._ BOWMAN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When first I saw her charming Face,
+Her taking Shape and moving Grace;
+My Rosie Cheeks, my Rosie Cheeks did glow with heat,
+My Heart and my Pulse did beat, beat, beat,
+My Heart and my Pulse did beat;
+I wish'd for a, I wish'd for a, do you, do you guess what,
+Do you guess what makes Soldiers fight,
+Soldiers Fight, and States-men Plot.
+
+Subdues us all in every thing,
+And makes, makes a Subject of a King;
+Still she deny'd, and I reply'd,
+Away she flew, I did pursue,
+  At last I catch'd her fast;
+But oh! had you seen, but oh! had you seen,
+Had you seen what had past between;
+Oh! I fear, I fear, oh! I fear, I fear, oh! I fear,
+I fear, I fear, I have spoil'd her Wast.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ AKEROYD.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+The _Devil_ he pull'd of his Jacket of Flame,
+  The _Fryer_ he pull'd off his Cowle;
+The _Devil_ took him for a Dunce of the Game,
+  And the _Fryer_ took him for a Fool:
+He piqu'd, and repiqu'd so oft, that at last,
+  He swore by the Jolly fat _Nuns_;
+If Cards came no better than those that are past,
+  Oh! oh! I shall lose all my _Buns_.
+
+
+
+
+_A New_ SONG. _Translated from the_ FRENCH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Pretty Parret say, when I was away,
+And in dull absence pass'd the Day;
+  What at home was doing;
+    With Chat and Play,
+    We are Gay,
+    Night and Day,
+Good Chear and Mirth Renewing;
+_Singing, Laughing all, Singing Laughing all, like pretty pretty_ Poll.
+
+Was no Fop so rude, boldly to Intrude,
+And like a sawcy Lover wou'd,
+  Court, and Teaze my Lady:
+    A Thing you know,
+    Made for Show,
+    Call'd a Beau,
+Near her was always ready,
+_Ever at her call, like pretty, pretty_ Poll.
+
+Tell me with what Air, he approach'd the Fair,
+And how she could with Patience bear,
+  All he did and utter'd;
+    He still address'd,
+    Still caress'd,
+    Kiss'd and press'd,
+  Sung, Prattl'd, Laugh'd, and Flutter'd:
+_Well receiv'd in all, like pretty, pretty_ Poll.
+
+Did he go away, at the close of the Day,
+Or did he ever use to stay
+  In a Corner dodging;
+    The want of Light,
+    When 'twas Night,
+    Spoil'd my sight,
+  But I believe his Lodging,
+_Was within her call, like pretty, pretty_ Poll.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _by a Person of Honour. Set by Mr._ JOHN WELDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+At Noon in a sultry Summer's Day,
+The brightest Lady of the _May_,
+Young _Chloris_ Innocent and Gay,
+    Sat Knotting in a shade:
+Each slender Finger play'd its part,
+With such activity and Art;
+As wou'd inflame a Youthful Heart,
+    And warm the most decay'd.
+
+Her Fav'rite Swain by chance came by;
+She had him quickly in her Eye,
+Yet when the bashful Boy drew nigh,
+    She wou'd have seem'd afraid,
+She let her Iv'ry Needle fall,
+And hurl'd away the twisted Ball;
+Then gave her _Strephon_ such a call,
+    As wou'd have wak'd the Dead.
+
+Dear gentle Youth is't none but thee?
+With Innocence I dare be free;
+By so much Trust and Modesty,
+    No Nymph was e'er betray'd,
+Come lean thy Head upon my Lap,
+While thy soft Cheeks I stroak and clap;
+Thou may'st securely take a Nap,
+    Which he poor Fool, obey'd.
+
+She saw him Yawn, and heard him Snore,
+And found him fast a sleep all o're;
+She sigh'd ---- and cou'd no more,
+    But starting up she said,
+Such Vertue shou'd rewarded be,
+For this thy dull Fidelity;
+I'll trust thee with my Flocks, not me,
+    Pursue thy Grazing Trade.
+
+Go milk thy Goats, and Sheer thy Sheep,
+And watch all Night thy Flocks, to keep;
+Thou shalt no more be lull'd asleep,
+    By me mistaken Maid.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Jeremy Clark.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+While the Lover is thinking,
+    With my Friend I'll be Drinking
+And with Vigour pursue my Delight;
+    While the Fool is designing,
+    His fatal confining,
+With _Bacchus_ I'll spend the whole Night:
+    With the God I'll be Jolly,
+    Without Madness or Folly.
+Fickle Woman to Marry Implore,
+    Leave my Bottle and Friend,
+    For so Foolish an end,
+When I do, may I never Drink more.
+
+
+
+
+_A Health to the_ TACKERS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Here's a Health to the Tackers, my Boys,
+  But mine A----se for the Tackers about;
+May the brave _English_ Spirits come in,
+  And the Knaves and _Fanaticks_ turn out:
+Since the _Magpyes_ of late, are confounding the State,
+  And wou'd pull our Establishments down;
+Let us make 'em a Jest, for they Shit in their Nest,
+  And be true to the Church and the Crown.
+
+Let us chuse such Parliament Men
+  As have stuck to their Principles tight;
+And wou'd not their Country betray
+  In the Story of _Ashby_ and _White_:
+Who care not a T----d, for a _Whig_, or a Lord,
+  That won't see our Accounts fairly stated;
+For _C----ll_ ne'er fears, the Address of those Peers,
+  Who the Nation of Millions have Cheated.
+
+The next thing adviseable is,
+  Since _Schism_ so strangely abounds;
+To oppose e'ery Man that's set up
+  By _Dissenters_, in Corporate Towns:
+For _High-Church_, and _Low-Church_, has brought us to no _Church_,
+  And Conscience so bubbl'd the Nation;
+For who is not still for Conformity Bill,
+  Will be surely a R---- on Occasion.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ ANTHONY YOUNG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Since _Cælia_ only has the Art,
+And only she can Captivate,
+  And wanton in my Breast;
+All other Pleasure I despise,
+Than what are from my _Cælia's_ Eyes,
+  In her alone I'm blest.
+
+Whene'er she Smiles, new Life she gives,
+And happy, happy who receives,
+  From her Inchanting Breath;
+Then prithee _Cælia_ smile once more,
+Since I no longer must adore,
+  For when you frown 'tis Death.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Ah! how lovely sweet and dear,
+Is the kind relenting Fair,
+Who Reprieve us in Despair;
+Oh! that thus my Nymph wou'd say,
+Come, come my Dear thy Cares repay,
+Be Blest my Love, be mine to Day:
+  _Come, come my dear, thy Cares repay,_
+  _Be blest my Love, be mine to Day._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Sung by Mrs._ Bracegirdle.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Advance, advance, advance gay Tenants of the Plain,
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain,
+        Loud Eccho spread my Voice,
+        Loud Eccho spread my Voice,
+Loud Eccho, loud Eccho, loud Eccho,
+Loud Eccho, loud Eccho, spread my Voice,
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain,
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ KING _and the Shepherd, and_ GILLIAN _the Shepherd's Wife, with
+her churlish Answer to the_ KING.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In Elder Time, there was of Yore,
+  When Guides of churlish Glee;
+Were us'd among our Country Earls,
+  Though no such thing now be.
+
+The which King _Alfred_ liking well,
+  Forsook his stately Court;
+And in Disguise unknown went forth,
+  To see that jovial Sport.
+
+How _Dick_ and _Tom_, in clouted Shoon,
+  And Coats of russet Grey,
+Esteem'd themselves more brave than them,
+  That went in Golden ray.
+
+In Garments fit for such a Life,
+  The good King _Alfred_ went,
+All ragg'd and torn, as from his Back
+  The Beggar his Cloaths had rent.
+
+A Sword and Buckler good and strong,
+  To give _Jack Sauce_ a rap;
+And on his Head, instead of Crown,
+  He wore a _Monmouth_ Cap.
+
+Thus coasting through _Somersetshire_,
+  Near _Newton_ Court he met
+A Shepherd Swain of lusty Limb,
+  That up and down did jet.
+
+He wore a Bonnet of good Grey,
+  Close buttoned to his Chin;
+And at his Back a leather Scrip,
+  With much good Meat therein.
+
+God speed, good Shepherd, quoth the King,
+  I come to be thy Guest;
+To taste of thy good Victuals here,
+  And drink that's of the best.
+
+Thy Scrip I know, hath Cheer good store,
+  What then the Shepherd said?
+Thou seem'st to be some sturdy Thief,
+  And mak'st me sore afraid.
+
+Yet if thou wilt thy Dinner win,
+  The Sword and Buckler take;
+And if thou canst into my Scrip,
+  Therewith an entrance make.
+
+I tell thee, Roister, it hath store
+  Of Beef, and Bacon fat;
+With sheafs of Barly-bread to make
+  Thy Mouth to water at.
+
+Here stands my Bottle, here my Bag,
+  If thou canst win them Roister;
+Against the Sword and Buckler here,
+  My Sheep-hook is my Master.
+
+_Benedicit_ now, quoth our good King,
+  It never shall be said;
+That _Alfred_ of the Shepherd's Hook,
+  Will stand a whit afraid.
+
+So soundly thus they both fell to't,
+  And giving Bang for Bang;
+At every Blow the Shepherd gave,
+  King _Alfred's_ Sword cry'd twang.
+
+His Buckler prov'd his chiefest Fence,
+  For still the Shepherd's Hook;
+Was that the which King _Alfred_ could,
+  In no good manner brook.
+
+At last when they had fought four Hours,
+  And it grew just Mid-day;
+And wearied both, with right good Will,
+  Desir'd each others stay.
+
+King, Truce I cry, quoth _Alfred_ then,
+  Good Shepherd hold thy Hand:
+A sturdier Fellow than thy self,
+  Lives not within this Land.
+
+Nor a lustier Roister than thou art,
+  The churlish Shepherd said,
+To tell thee plain, thy Thievish looks,
+  Now makes my Heart afraid.
+
+Else sure thou art some Prodigal,
+  Which hast consum'd thy store;
+And now com'st wand'ring in this place,
+  To rob and steal for more.
+
+Deem not of me, then quoth our King,
+  Good Shepherd in this sort;
+A Gentleman well known I am,
+  In good King _Alfred's_ Court.
+
+The Devil thou art, the Shepherd said,
+  Thou goest in Rags all torn;
+Thou rather seem'st, I think to be,
+  Some Beggar basely born.
+
+But if thou wilt mend thy Estate,
+  And here a Shepherd be;
+At Night to _Gillian_ my sweet Wife,
+  Thou shalt go home with me.
+
+For she's as good a Toothless Dame,
+  As mumbleth on Brown Bread;
+Where thou shalt lie on hurden Sheets,
+  Upon a fresh Straw Bed.
+
+Of Whig and Whey, we have good store,
+  And keep good Pease-straw Fires;
+And now and then good Barly Cakes,
+  As better Days requires.
+
+But for my Master which is Chief,
+  And Lord of _Newton_ Court;
+He keeps I say, his Shepherds Swains,
+  In far more braver sort.
+
+We there have Curds, and clouted Cream,
+  Of Red Cows morning Milk;
+And now and then fine Buttered Cakes,
+  As soft as any Silk.
+
+Of Beef and reised Bacon store,
+  That is most Fat and Greasy;
+We have likewise to feast our Chaps,
+  And make them glib and easie.
+
+Thus if thou wilt my Man become,
+  This usage thou shalt have;
+If not, adieu, go hang thy self,
+  And so farewel Sir Knave.
+
+King _Alfred_ hearing of this Glee,
+  The churlish Shepherd said;
+Was well content to be his Man,
+  So they a Bargain made.
+
+A Penny round, the Shepherd gave,
+  In earnest of this Match;
+To keep his Sheep in Field and fold,
+  As Shepherds use to watch.
+
+His Wages shall be full Ten Groats,
+  For Service of a Year;
+Yet was it not his use, old Lad,
+  To hire a Man so dear.
+
+For did the King himself (quoth he)
+  Unto my Cottage come;
+He should not for a Twelvemonths Pay,
+  Receive a greater Sum.
+
+Hereat the bonny King grew blith,
+  To hear the clownish Jest;
+How silly sots, as custom is,
+  Do discant at the best.
+
+But not to spoil the Foolish sport,
+  He was content good King;
+To fit the Shepherd's humour right,
+  In every kind of thing.
+
+A Sheep-hook then, with _Patch_ his Dog,
+  And Tar-box by his side;
+He with his Master, jig by jowl,
+  Unto old _Gillian_ hy'd.
+
+Into whose sight no sooner came,
+  Whom have you here (quoth she)
+A Fellow I doubt, will cut our Throats,
+  So like a Knave looks he.
+
+Not so old Dame, quoth _Alfred_ strait,
+  Of me you need not fear;
+My Master hir'd me for Ten Groats,
+  To serve you one whole Year.
+
+So good Dame _Gillian_ grant me leave,
+  Within your House to stay;
+For by St. _Ann_, do what you can,
+  I will not yet away.
+
+Her churlish usage pleas'd him still,
+  Put him to such a Proof,
+That he at Night was almost choak'd,
+  Within that smoaky Roof.
+
+But as he sat with smiling cheer,
+  The event of all to see;
+His Dame brought forth a piece of Dow,
+  Which in the Fire throws she.
+
+Where lying on the Hearth to bake,
+  By chance the Cake did burn;
+What can'st thou not, thou Lout (quoth she)
+  Take Pains the same to turn:
+
+Thou art more quick to take it out,
+  And eat it up half Dow,
+Than thus to stay till't be enough,
+  And so thy Manners show.
+
+But serve me such another Trick,
+  I'll thwack thee on the Snout;
+Which made the patient King, good Man,
+  Of her to stand in Doubt:
+
+But to be brief, to bed they went,
+  The good old Man and's Wife;
+But never such a Lodging had
+  King _Alfred_ in his Life:
+
+For he was laid in white Sheeps Wool,
+  New pull'd from tanned Fells,
+And o'er his Head hang'd Spiders Webbs,
+  As if they had been Bells.
+
+Is this the Country Guise, thought he,
+  Then here I will not stay;
+But hence be gone as soon as breaks
+  The peeping of the Day.
+
+The cackling Hens and Geese kept roost,
+  And perched at his side;
+Whereat the last the watchful Cock,
+  Made known the Morning Tide.
+
+Then up got _Alfred_ with his Horn,
+  And blew so long a Blast,
+That made _Gillian_ and her Groom,
+  In Bed full sore agast.
+
+Arise, quoth she, we are undone,
+  This Night, we lodged have,
+At unawares within our House,
+  A false dissembling Knave;
+
+Rise Husband, rise, he'll cut our Throats,
+  He calleth for his Mates,
+I'd give old _Will_ our good Cade Lamb,
+  He would depart our Gates.
+
+But still King _Alfred_ blew his Horn
+  before them, more and more,
+'Till that a hundred Lords and Knights,
+  All lighted at the Door:
+
+Which cry'd all hail, all hail good King,
+  Long have we look'd your Grace;
+And here you find (my merry Men all)
+  Your Sovereign in this place.
+
+We shall surely be hang'd up both,
+  Old _Gillian_ I much fear,
+The Shepherd said, for using thus
+  Our good King _Alfred_ here:
+
+O pardon, my Liege, quoth _Gillian_ then,
+  For my Husband and for me,
+By these ten Bones I never thought
+  The same that now I see:
+
+And by my Hook, the Shepherd said,
+  An Oath both good and true,
+Before this time, O noble King,
+  I never your Highness knew:
+
+Then pardon me and my old Wife,
+  That we may after say,
+When first you came into our House,
+  It was a happy Day.
+
+It shall be done, said _Alfred_ streight,
+  And _Gillian_ thy old Dame,
+For this thy churlish using me,
+  Deserveth not much Blame.
+
+For this thy Country Guise I see,
+  To be thus bluntish still,
+And where the plainest Meaning is,
+  Remains the smallest Ill.
+
+And Master, lo I tell thee now,
+  For thy low Manhood shown,
+A Thousand Weathers I'll bestow
+  Upon thee for thy own.
+
+And pasture Ground, as much as will
+  Suffice to feed them all,
+And this thy Cottage I will change
+  Into a stately Hall.
+
+As for the same, as Duty binds,
+  The Shepherd said, good King,
+A milk white Lamb once every Year,
+  I'll to your Highness bring.
+
+And _Gillian_ my Wife likewise,
+  Of Wool to make you Coats,
+Will give you as much at New Year's Tide,
+  As shall be worth ten Groats:
+
+And in your Praise my Bagpipe shall
+  Sound sweetly once a Year,
+How _Alfred_ our renowned King,
+  Most kindly hath been here.
+
+Thanks Shepherd, thanks, quoth he again
+  The next time I come hither,
+My Lords with me here in this House,
+  Will all be merry together.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Sung by Mrs._ Bracegirdle.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Cease, cease of _Cupid_ to complain,
+Love, Love's a Joy even while a Pain;
+Oh! then think! oh! then think;
+Oh! then think how great his Blisses,
+Moving Glances, balmy Kisses,
+Charming Raptures, matchless Sweets,
+Love, Love alone, Love, Love alone,
+Love, Love alone, all Joys compleats.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Sung by Mrs._ BRACEGIRDLE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come, come ye Nymphs,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain,
+_Galatea_ leaves the Main,
+To revive us on the Plain,
+To revive us, to revive us, to revive us on the Plain;
+Come, come, come, come ye Nymphs,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain,
+_Galatea_ leaves the Main,
+To revive us on the Plain,
+To revive us on the Plain,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ John Barret.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Ianthia_ the lovely, the Joy of her Swain,
+By _Iphis_ was lov'd, and lov'd _Iphis_ again;
+She liv'd in the Youth, and the Youth in the Fair,
+Their Pleasure was equal, and equal their Care;
+No Time, no Enjoyment their Dotage withdrew;
+But the longer they liv'd, but the longer they liv'd,
+    Still the fonder they grew.
+
+A Passion so happy alarm'd all the Plain,
+Some envy'd the Nymph, but more envy'd the Swain;
+Some swore 'twould be pity their Loves to invade,
+That the Lovers alone for each other was made:
+But all, all consented, that none ever knew,
+A Nymph yet so kind, a Nymph yet so kind,
+    Or a Shepherd so true.
+
+Love saw 'em with Pleasure, and vow'd to take care
+Of the faithful, the tender, the innocent Pair;
+What either did want, he bid either to move,
+But they wanted nothing, but ever to love:
+Said, 'twas all that to bless him his God-head cou'd do,
+That they still might be kind, that they still might be kind,
+    And they still might be true.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Bring out your Coney-Skins
+Bring out your Coney-Skins Maids to me,
+  And hold them fair that I may see,
+Grey, Black and Blue, for the smaller Skins
+I'll give you Bracelets, Laces, Pins,
+  And for your whole Coney
+  Here's ready Money,
+Come gentle _Joan_, do thou begin
+With thy black Coney, thy black Coney-Skin,
+  And _Mary_ and _Joan_ will follow,
+  With their Silver-hair'd Skins and yellow;
+The White Coney-Skin I will not lay by,
+For tho' it be faint, it is fair to the Eye:
+The Grey it is worn, but yet for my Money,
+Give me the bonny, bonny black Coney;
+Come away fair Maids, your Skins will decay,
+Come and take Money Maids, put your Wares away:
+Ha'ye any Coney-Skins, ha'ye any Coney-Skins,
+Ha'ye any Coney-Skins here to sell?
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_The Words by Mr._ Clossold, _Set by Mr._ John WILFORD.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Nay pish, nay pish, nay pish Sir, what ails you;
+  Lord! What is't you do?
+I ne'er met with one so uncivil as you;
+You may think as you please, but if Evil it be,
+I wou'd have you to know, you're mistaken in me.
+You Men now so rude, and so boistrous are grown,
+A Woman can't trust her self with you alone:
+I cannot but wonder what 'tis that shou'd move ye;
+If you do so again, I swear, I swear, I swear, I swear,
+  I swear I won't love ye.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Motley.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Draw _Cupid_ draw, and make fair _Sylvia_ know;
+The mighty Pain her suff'ring Swain does for her undergo;
+Convey this Dart into her Heart, and when she's set on Fire,
+Do thou return and let her burn, like me in chast desire;
+That by Experience she, may learn to pity me,
+Whene'er her Eyes do tyrannize o'er my Captivity:
+But when in Love we jointly move, and tenderly imbrace,
+Like Angels shine, and sweetly join to one another's Face.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG; _The Words by a Person of a Quality. Set to Musick by Mr._
+Robert Cary.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Some brag of their _Chloris_, and some of their _Phillis_,
+Some cry up their _Cælia_, and bright _Amaryllis_:
+Thus Poets and Lovers their Mistresses dub,
+And Goddesses fram'd from the Wash-bowl and Tub;
+But away with these Fictions, and Counterfeit Folly:
+There's a thousand more Charms in the Name of my _Dolly_.
+
+I cannot describe you her Beauty and Wit,
+Like Manna to each she's a relishing Bit;
+She alone by Enjoyment, the more does prevail,
+And still with fresh Pleasures does hoist up your Sail:
+Nay, had you a Surfeit, but took of all others,
+One Look from my _Dolly_ your Stomach recovers.
+
+
+
+
+_The Mountebank_ SONG. _Sung by Dr._ LEVERIGO, _and his merry Andrew_
+Pinkanello, _in_ Farewel to Folly. _Set by Mr._ LEVERIDGE.
+
+
+[Music:
+
+Here are People and Sports
+of all sizes and sorts,
+Coach'd Damsel with Squire,
+and Mob in the Mire,
+Tarpaulins, Trugmallions,
+Lords, Ladys, Sows,
+Babies, and Loobys in Scores.
+Some howling, some Bawling,
+some Leering, some Fleering,
+some Loving, some Shoving,
+with Legions of Furbelow'd Whores.
+
+To the Tavern, some go,
+and some to a Show,
+see Poppets for Moppets,
+Jack-puddings, for Cuddens,
+Rope Dancing, Mares Prancing,
+Boats flying, Quacks lying,
+Pick-pockets, pick Plackets,
+Beasts, Butchers, and Beaus.
+
+Fops prat'ling, Dies rat'ling,
+Rooks shaming, Puts Daming,
+Whores Painted, Mask's tainted,
+in Tallymans Furbelow'd Cloaths.
+
+The Mobs Joys would you know
+to yon Musick-house go,
+see Tailors, and Saylors,
+Whores Oily in Doily,
+hear Musick, makes you sick:
+Cows Skipping, Clowns tripping,
+some Joaking, some Smoaking, like Spiggit and Tap;
+short Measure, strange Pleasure
+thus Billing, and Swilling,
+some yearly, get fairly,
+for Fairings Pig, Pork, and a Clap.]
+
+
+
+
+_The Mountebank_ SONG. _Set and Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE, _in a New Play
+call'd_, Farewel to Folly.
+
+
+[Music:
+
+See, Sirs, see here! a Doctor rare, who travels much at home!
+Here take my Bills, take my Bills,
+I cure all Ills, past, present, and to come;
+the Cramp, the Stitch, the Squirt, the Itch,
+the Gout, the Stone, the Pox,
+the Mulligrubs, the Bonny Scrubs,
+and all, all, all, all, all, _Pandora's_ Box;
+Thousands I've Dissected, Thousands new erected,
+and such Cures effected, as none e'er can tell.
+
+Let the Palsie shake ye, let the Chollick rack ye,
+let the Crinkums break ye, let the Murrain take ye;
+Take this, take this and you are well.
+Thousands, &c.
+
+Come Wits so keen, devour'd with Spleen;
+come Beaus who sprain'd your Backs,
+Great-belly'd Maids, old founder'd Jades,
+and Pepper'd Vizard Cracks.
+
+I soon remove the pains of Love,
+and cure the Love-sick Maid;
+the Hot, the Cold, the Young,
+the Old, the Living and the Dead.
+
+I clear the Lass with Wainscot Face,
+and from Pim-ginets free,
+Plump Ladies Red, like _Saracen's_-head,
+with toaping Rattafe.
+
+This with a Jirk, will do your work,
+and scour you o're and o're,
+Read, Judge and Try, and if you die,
+never believe me more,
+never, never, never, never, never believe me more.]
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the_ Mock Marriage. _Sung by Mrs._ KNIGHT. _Set by Mr._
+Henry Purcell.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Oh! how you protest and solemnly swear,
+  Look humble, and fawn like an Ass;
+I'm pleas'd, I must own, when ever I see
+  A Lover that's brought to this pass.
+Keep, keep further off, you're naughty I fear,
+  I vow I will never, will never, will never yield to't;
+You ask me in vain; for never I swear,
+  I never, no never, I never, no never,
+I never, no never will do't.
+
+For when the Deed's done, how quickly you go,
+  No more of the Lover remains,
+In hast you depart, whate'er we can do,
+  And stubbornly throw off your Chains:
+Desist then in time, let's hear on't no more,
+  I vow I will never yield to't;
+You promise in vain, in vain you adore,
+  For I will never, no never will do't.
+
+
+
+
+JOCKEY'S _Lamentation._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Jockey_ met with _Jenny_ fair
+  Betwixt the dawning and the Day,
+And _Jockey_ now is full of Care,
+  For _Jenny_ stole his Heart away:
+Altho' she promis'd to be true,
+  Yet she, alas, has prov'd unkind,
+That which do make poor _Jenny_ rue,
+  For _Jenny's_ fickle as the Wind:
+And, _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_The Wind has blown my Plad away._
+
+_Jockey_ was a bonny Lad,
+  As e'er was born in _Scotland_ fair;
+But now poor _Jockey_ is run mad,
+  For _Jenny_ causes his Despair;
+_Jockey_ was a Piper's Son,
+  And fell in Love while he was young:
+But all the Tunes that he could play,
+  Was, _o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+And, _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills and far away,_
+_The Wind has blown my Plad away._
+
+When first I saw my _Jenny's_ Face,
+She did appear with sike a Grace,
+With muckle Joy my Heart was fill'd;
+But now alas with Sorrow kill'd.
+
+Oh! was she but as true as fair,
+  'Twou'd put an end to my Despair;
+But ah, alass! this is unkind,
+  Which sore does terrify my Mind;
+_'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_That_ Jenny _stole my Heart away._
+
+Did she but feel the dismal Woe
+  That for her Sake I undergo,
+She surely then would grant Relief,
+  And put an end to all my Grief:
+But oh, she is as false as fair,
+  Which causes all my sad Despair;
+She triumphs in a proud Disdain,
+  And takes Delight to see my Pain;
+_'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.
+
+Hard was my Hap to fall in Love,
+  With one that does so faithless prove;
+Hard was my fate to court the Maid,
+  That has my constant Heart betray'd:
+A thousand times to me she swore,
+  She would be true for evermore:
+But oh! alas, with Grief I say,
+  She's stole my Heart, and ran away;
+_'Twas o'er the Hills_, &c.
+
+Good gentle _Cupid_ take my part,
+  And pierce this false one to the Heart,
+That she may once but feel the Woe,
+  As I for her do undergo;
+Oh! make her feel this raging Pain,
+  That for her Love I do sustain;
+She sure would then more gentle be,
+  And soon repent her Cruelty;
+_'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.
+
+I now must wander for her sake,
+  Since that she will no Pity take,
+Into the Woods and shady Grove,
+  And bid adieu to my false Love:
+Since she is false whom I adore,
+  I ne'er will trust a Woman more,
+From all their Charms I'll fly away,
+  And on my Pipe will sweetly play;
+_'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.
+
+There by my self I'll sing and say,
+  _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away_,
+That my poor Heart is gone astray,
+  Which makes me grieve both Night and Day;
+Farewel, farewel, thou cruel she,
+  I fear that I shall die for thee:
+But if I live, this Vow I'll make,
+  To love no other for your sake.
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_The Wind has blown my Plad away._
+
+
+
+
+The Recruiting Officer: _Or_, The Merry Volunteers: _Being an
+Excellent New Copy of Verses upon raising Recruits._
+
+_To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+Hark! now the Drums beat up again,
+For all true Soldiers Gentlemen,
+Then let us list, and march I say,
+Over the Hills and far away;
+Over the Hills and o'er the Main,
+To _Flanders_, _Portugal_ and _Spain_,
+Queen _Ann_ commands, and we'll obey,
+_Over the Hills and far away_.
+
+All Gentlemen that have a Mind,
+To serve the Queen that's good and kind;
+Come list and enter into Pay,
+Then o'er the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Here's Forty Shillings on the Drum,
+For those that Volunteers do come,
+With Shirts, and Cloaths, and present Pay,
+When o'er the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Hear that brave Boys, and let us go,
+Or else we shall be prest you know;
+Then list and enter into Pay,
+And o'er the Hills and far away,
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+The Constables they search about,
+To find such brisk young Fellows out;
+Then let's be Volunteers I say,
+Over the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Since now the _French_ so low are brought,
+And Wealth and Honour's to be got,
+Who then behind wou'd sneaking stay?
+When o'er the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+No more from sound of Drum retreat,
+While _Marlborough_, and _Gallaway_ beat,
+The _French_ and _Spaniards_ every Day,
+When over the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+He that is forc'd to go and fight,
+Will never get true Honour by't,
+While Volunteers shall win the Day,
+When o'er the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+What tho' our Friends our Absence mourn,
+We all with Honour shall return;
+And then we'll sing both Night and Day,
+Over the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+The Prentice _Tom_ he may refuse,
+To wipe his angry Master's Shoes;
+For then he's free to sing and play,
+Over the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Over Rivers, Bogs, and Springs,
+We all shall live as great as Kings,
+And Plunder get both Night and Day,
+When over the Hills and far away,
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+We then shall lead more happy Lives,
+By getting rid of Brats and Wives,
+That Scold on both Night and Day,
+When o'er the Hills and far away:
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Come on then Boys and you shall see,
+We every one shall Captains be,
+To Whore and rant as well as they,
+When o'er the Hills and far away:
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+For if we go 'tis one to Ten,
+But we return all Gentlemen,
+All Gentlemen as well as they,
+When o'er the Hills and far away:
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG. _Set by Mr._ JOHN BARRETT.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Ah! foolish Lass, what mun I do?
+My Modesty I well may rue,
+  Which of my Joy bereft me;
+For full of Love he came,
+But out of silly shame,
+With pish and phoo I play'd,
+To muckle the coy Maid,
+  And the raw young Loon has left me.
+
+Wou'd _Jockey_ knew how muckle I lue,
+Did I less Art, or did he shew,
+  More Nature, how bleast I'd be;
+I'd not have reason to complain,
+That I lue'd now in vain,
+Gen he more a Man was,
+I'd be less a coy Lass,
+  Had the raw young Loon weel try'd me.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the Comedy call'd_ Justice Buisy, _or the_ Gentleman
+Quack: _Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _Sung by Mrs._ Bracegirdle.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+No, no ev'ry Morning my Beauties renew,
+Where-ever I go, I have Lovers enough;
+I Dress and I Dance, and I Laugh and I Sing,
+Am lovely and lively, and gay as the Spring:
+I Visit, I Game, and I cast away Care,
+Mind Lovers no more, than the Birds of the Air,
+Mind Lovers no more, than the Birds of the Air.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ WILLIS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Now my Freedom's regain'd, and by _Bacchus_ I swear,
+All whining dull whimsys of Love I'll cashire:
+The Charm's more engaging in Bumpers of Wine,
+Then let _Chloe_ be Damn'd, but let this be Divine:
+Whilst Youth warms thy Veins, Boy embrace thy full Glasses,
+Damn _Cupid_ and all his poor Proselyte Asses;
+Let this be thy rule _Tom_, to square out thy Life,
+And when Old in a Friend, thou'lt live free from all Strife,
+Only envied by him that is plagu'd with a Wife.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG, _the Words by Mr._ Peter Noble, _Set by Mr._ John
+Wilford.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Bonny _Scottish_ Lads that keens me weel,
+  Lith ye what, ye what good Luck Ise fun;
+_Moggey_ is mine own in spight o'th' De'el,
+  I alone her Heart has won:
+Near St. _Andrew's_ Kirk in _London_ Town,
+  There Ise, Ise met my Dearest Joy;
+Shinening in her Silken Hued and Gown,
+  But ne'er ack, ne'er ack she prov'd not Coy.
+
+Then after many Compliments,
+  Streight we gang'd into the Kirk;
+There full weel she tuck the documents,
+  And flang me many pleasing Smirk:
+Weel I weat that I have gear enough,
+  She's have a Yode to ride ont;
+She's neither drive the Swine, nor the Plough,
+  Whatever does betide ont.
+
+
+
+
+_A New_ SONG _in the Play call'd_, a DUKE and no DUKE. _Sung by Mrs._
+CIBBER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Damon_ if you will believe me,
+  'Tis not sighing o'er the Plain;
+Songs nor Sonnets can't relieve ye,
+  Faint Attempts in Love are vain:
+Urge but home the fair Occasion,
+  And be Master of the Field;
+To a powerful kind Invasion,
+  'Twere a Madness not to yield.
+
+Tho' she vow's she'll ne'er permit ye,
+  Says you're rude, and much to blame;
+And with Tears implores your pity,
+  Be not merciful for shame:
+When the first assault is over,
+  _Chloris_ time enough will find;
+This so fierce and Cruel Lover,
+  Much more gentle, not so kind.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _The Words made to a Tune of the late Mr._ Henry Purcell's.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Drunk I was last Night that's poss,
+  My Wife began to Scold;
+Say what I cou'd for my Heart's Blood,
+  Her Clack she wou'd not hold:
+Thus her Chat she did begin,
+  Is this your time of coming in;
+The Clock strikes One, you'll be undone,
+  If thus you lead your Life:
+My Dear said I, I can't deny,
+  But what you say is true;
+I do intend, my Life to mend,
+  Pray lends the Pot to Spew.
+
+Fye, you Sot, I ne'er can bear,
+  To rise thus e'ery Night;
+Tho' like a Beast you never care,
+  What consequence comes by't:
+The Child and I may starve for you,
+  We neither can have half our due;
+With grief I find, you're so unkind,
+  In time you'll break my Heart:
+At that I smil'd, and said dear Child,
+  I believe your in the wrong;
+But if't shou'd be you're destiny,
+  I'll sing a merry Song.
+
+
+
+
+_The Gelding the Devil. Set by Mr._ Tho. Wroth.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I met with the Devil in the shape of a Ram,
+Then over and over the Sow-gelder came;
+I rose and halter'd him fast by the Horns,
+And pick'd out his Stones, as you would pick out Corns;
+Maa, quoth the Devil, with that out he slunk,
+And left us a Carkass of Mutton that stunk.
+
+I chanc'd to ride forth a Mile and a half,
+Where I heard he did live in disguise of a Calf;
+I bound him and Gelt him e'er he did any evil,
+For he was at the best but a young sucking Devil:
+Maa, yet he cries, and forth he did steal,
+And this was sold after for excellent Veal.
+
+Some half a Year after in the Form of a Pig,
+I met with the Rogue, and he look'd very big;
+I caught at his Leg, laid him down on a Log,
+E'er a Man could Fart twice, I made him a Hog:
+Huh, huh quoth the Devil, and gave such a Jerk,
+That a _Jew_ was Converted and eat of that Pork.
+
+In Woman's attire I met him most fine,
+At first sight I thought him some Angel divine;
+But viewing his crab Face I fell to my Trade,
+I made him forswear ever acting a Maid:
+Meaw, quoth the Devil, and so ran away,
+Hid himself in a Fryer's old Weeds as they say.
+
+I walked along and it was my good chance,
+To meet with a Black-coat that was in a Trance;
+I speedily grip'd him and whip'd off his Cods,
+'Twixt his Head and his Breech, I left little odds:
+O, quoth the Devil, and so away ran,
+Thou oft will be curst by many a Woman.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When _Jemmy_ first began to love,
+  He was the finest Swain;
+That ever yet a Flock had drove,
+  Or Danc'd upon the Plain:
+'Twas then that I, woe's me poor heart,
+  My Freedom threw away;
+And finding sweets in every part,
+  I could not say him nay.
+
+For ever when he spake of Love,
+  He wou'd his Eyes decline;
+Each Sigh he gave a Heart wou'd move,
+  Good faith, and why not mine:
+He'd press my Hand, and Kiss it oft,
+  His silence spoke his Flame;
+And whilst he treated me thus soft,
+  I wish'd him more to blame.
+
+Sometimes to feed my Flock with his,
+  _Jemmy_ wou'd me invite;
+Where he the finest Songs would Sing,
+  Me only to Delight:
+Then all his Graces he display'd,
+  Which were enough I trow;
+To conquer any Princely Maid,
+  So did he me I trow.
+
+But now for _Jemmy_ I must Mourn,
+  He to the Wars must go;
+His Sheephook to a Sword must turn,
+  Alack what shall I do?
+His Bagpipes into Warlike sounds,
+  Must now converted be;
+His Garlands into fearful Wounds,
+  Oh! what becomes of me?
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG; _to the Tune of_ Woobourn _Fair._
+
+Vol. 4. Pag. 330.
+
+
+Jilting is in such a Fashion,
+    And such a Fame,
+    Runs o'er the Nation,
+    There's never a Dame
+Of highest Rank, or of Fame,
+Sir, but will stoop to your Caresses,
+If you do but put home your Addresses:
+It's for that she Paints, and she Patches,
+All she hopes to secure is her Name, Sir.
+
+But when you find the Love fit comes upon her,
+Never trust much to her Honour;
+Tho' she may very high stand on't,
+Yet when her love is Ascendant,
+Her Vertue's quite out of Doors
+    High Breeding, rank Feeding,
+    With lazy Lives leading,
+    In Ease and soft Pleasures,
+    And taking loose Measures,
+    With Play-house Diversions,
+    And Midnight Excursions,
+    With Balls Masquerading,
+    And Nights Serenading,
+Debauch the Sex into Whores, Sir.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ PACK.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Farewel ungrateful Traytor,
+  Farewel my Perjur'd Swain:
+Let never injur'd Creature,
+  Believe a Man again:
+The pleasure of possessing,
+  Surpasses all expressing;
+But Joys too short a Blessing,
+  And love too long a Pain:
+_But Joys too short a Blessing,_
+  _And Love too long a Pain._
+
+'Tis easie to deceive us,
+  In pity of your Pain;
+But when we Love, you leave us,
+  To rail at you in vain:
+Before we have descry'd it,
+  There is no Bliss beside it;
+But she that once has try'd it,
+  Will never Love again.
+
+The Passion you pretended,
+  Was only to obtain;
+But when the Charm is ended,
+  The Charmer you disdain:
+Your Love by ours we measure,
+  'Till we have lost our Treasure;
+But dying is a Pleasure,
+  When living is a Pain.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+You I Love by all that's true,
+More than all things here below;
+with a Passion far more great,
+Than e'er Creature loved yet:
+And yet still you cry forbear,
+Love no more, or Love not here.
+
+Bid the Miser leave his Ore,
+Bid the Wretched sigh no more;
+Bid the Old be young again,
+Bid the _Nun_ not think of Man:
+_Sylvia_ thus when you can do,
+Bid me then not think on you.
+
+Love's not a thing of Choice, but Fate,
+What makes me Love, that makes you Hate:
+_Sylvia_ you do what you will,
+Ease or Cure, Torment or Kill:
+Be Kind or Cruel, False or True,
+Love I must, and none but you.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+Note: _You must Sing 8 lines to the first Strain._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Let's be merry blith and jolly,
+Stupid Dulness is a Folly;
+'Tis the Spring that doth invite us,
+Hark, the chirping Birds delight us:
+Let us Dance and raise our Voices,
+Every Creature now rejoyces;
+Airy Blasts and springing Flowers,
+Verdant Coverings, pleasant Showers:
+Each plays his part to compleat this our Joy,
+And can we be so dull as to deny.
+
+Here's no foolish surly Lover,
+That his Passions will discover;
+No conceited fopish Creature,
+That is proud of Cloaths or Feature:
+All things here serene and free are,
+They're not Wise, are not as we are;
+Who acknowledge Heavens Blessings,
+In our innocent Caressings:
+Then let us Sing, let us Dance, let us Play,
+'Tis the Time is allow'd, 'tis the Month of _May_.
+
+
+
+
+_A New_ SONG, _the Words by Mr._ J.C. _Set to Musick by Dr._ Prettle.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+No _Phillis_, tho' you've all the Charms,
+  Ambitious Woman can desire;
+All Beauty, Wit, and Youth that warms,
+  Or sets our foolish Hearts on fire:
+Yet you may practice all your Arts,
+  In vain to make a Slave of me;
+You ne'er shall re-engage my Heart,
+  Revolted from your Tyranny:
+_You ne'er shall re-engage my Heart,_
+  _Revolted from your Tyranny._
+
+When first I saw those dang'rous Eyes,
+  They did my Liberty betray;
+But when I knew your Cruelties,
+  I snatch'd my simple Heart away:
+Now I defy your Smiles to win,
+  My resolute Heart, no pow'r th'ave got;
+Tho' once I suck'd their Poyson in,
+  Your Rigour prov'd an Antidote.
+
+
+
+
+_The Epilogue to the_ Island Princes, _Set by Mr._ Clark, _Sung by
+Mrs._ Lindsey, _and the Boy._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Now to you ye dry Wooers,
+Old Beaus, and no doers,
+So doughty, so gouty,
+So useless and toothless,
+Your blindless, cold kindness,
+  Has nothing of Man;
+Still doating, or gloating,
+Still stumbling, or fumbling,
+Still hawking, still baulking,
+  You flash in the Pan:
+Unfit like old Brooms,
+For sweeping our Rooms,
+You're sunk and you're shrunk,
+  Then repent and look to't;
+In vain you're so upish, in vain you're so upish.
+  You're down ev'ry foot.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG, _Set by Mr._ R. BROWN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Jockey_ loves his _Moggy_ dearly,
+  He gang'd with her to _Perth_ Fair;
+There we Sung and Pip'd together,
+  And when done, then down I'd lay her:
+I so pull'd her, and so lull'd her,
+  Both o'erwhelm'd with muckle Joy;
+_Mog._ kiss'd _Jockey_, _Jockey_ _Moggy_,
+  From long Night to break of Day.
+
+I told _Mog._ 'twas muckle pleasing,
+  _Moggey_ cry'd she'd do again such;
+I reply'd I'd glad gang with thee,
+  But 'twould wast my muckle Coyn much:
+She lamented, I relented,
+  Both wish'd Bodies might increase;
+Then we'd gang next Year together,
+  And my Pipe shall never cease.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG, _in the_ Lucky Younger Brother, _or, the_ Beau Defeated;
+_Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _and Sung by Mr._ BOWMAN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Delia_ tir'd _Strephon_ with her Flame,
+  While languishing, while languishing she view'd him;
+The well dress'd Youth despis'd the Dame,
+  But still, still; but still the old Fool pursu'd him:
+Some pity on a Wretch bestow,
+  That lyes at your Devotion;
+Perhaps near fifty Years ago,
+Perhaps near fifty Years ago,
+  I might have lik'd the Motion.
+
+If you, proud Youth, my Flame despise,
+  I'll hang me in my Garters;
+Why then make hast to win the Prize,
+  Among loves foolish Martyrs:
+Can you see _Delia_ brought so low,
+  And make her no Requitals?
+_Delia_ may to the Devil go, _Delia_ may to the Devil,
+Devil go, to the Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil go for
+  _Strephon_;
+Stop my Vitals, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop my Vitals.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ John Weldon.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Swain thy hopeless Passion smother,
+Perjur'd _Cælia_ loves another;
+In his Arms I saw her lying,
+Panting, Kissing, Trembling, Dying:
+There the Fair deceiver swore,
+As once she did to you before.
+
+Oh! said you, when She deceives me,
+When that Constant Creatures leave me;
+_Isis_ Waters back shall fly,
+And leave their _Ouzy_ Channels dry:
+Turn your Waters, leave your Shore,
+For perjur'd _Cælia_ loves no more.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the Comedy call'd the_ BITER, _Set by Mr._ John Eccles,
+_and Sung by Mr._ Cook.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Chloe_ blush'd and frown'd and swore,
+  And push'd me rudely from her;
+I call'd her Faithless, Jilting Whore,
+  To talk to me of Honour:
+But when I rose and wou'd be gone,
+  She cry'd nay, whither go ye?
+Young _Damon_ saw, now we're alone,
+  Do, do, do what you will, do what you will with _Chloe_:
+Do what you will, what you will, what you will with _Chloe_,
+Do what you will, what you will, what you will with _Chloe_.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in_ Rinaldo _and_ Armida: _Set by Mr._ John Eccles. _Sung by
+Mr._ Gouge.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+The Jolly, Jolly Breeze,
+That comes whistling through the Trees;
+From all the blissful Regions brings,
+Perfumes upon its spicy Wings:
+With its wanton motion curling,
+Curling, curling, curling the crystal Rills,
+Which down, down, down, down the Hills,
+Run, run, run, run, run o'er Golden gravel purling.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _on the_ Punch Bowl. _To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+The Jolly, Jolly Bowl,
+That does quench my thirsty Soul;
+When all the mingling Juice is thrown,
+Perfum'd with fragrant Goar Stone:
+With it's wanton Toast too, curling,
+Curling, curling, curling, curling the Nut-brown Riles,
+Which down, down, down, down by the Gills,
+Run through ruby Swallows purling.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ PROLOGUE _in the_ Island-Princess, _Set and Sung by Mr._
+LEVERIDGE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+You've been with dull Prologues here banter'd so long,
+They signify nothing, or less than a Song;
+To sing you a Ballad this Tune we thought fit,
+For Sound has oft nickt you, when Sence could not hit:
+Then Ladies be kind, and Gentlemen mind,
+Wit Capers, play Sharpers, loud Bullies, tame Cullies,
+Sow grumblers, Wench Fumblers give ear ev'ry Man:
+Mobb'd Sinners in Pinners, kept Foppers, Bench-hoppers,
+High-Flyers, Pit-Plyers, be still if you can:
+You're all in Damnation, you're all in Damnation for Leading the Van.
+
+Ye Side-Box Gallants, whom the vulgar call Beaus,
+Admirers of Self, and nice Judges of Cloaths;
+Who now the War's over cross boldly the Main,
+Yet ne'er were at Seiges, unless at Campaign:
+Spare all on the Stage, Love in every Age,
+Young Tattles, Wild Rattles, Fan-Tearers, Mask-Fleerers,
+Old Coasters, Love boasters, who set up for Truth:
+Young Graces, Black Faces, some Faded, some Jaded,
+Old Mothers, and others, who've yet a Colt's Tooth:
+See us Act that in Winter, you'd all Act in Youth.
+
+You Gallery Haunters, who love to lye snug,
+And maunch Apples or Cakes, while some Neighbour you hugg;
+Ye lofties, Genteels, who above us all sit,
+And look down with Contempt, on the Mob in the Pit,
+Here's what you like best, Jigg, Song and the rest,
+Free Laughers, close Graffers, dry Jokers, old Soakers,
+Kind Cousins, by Dozens, your Customs don't break:
+Sly Spouses with Blouses, grave Horners, in Corners,
+Kind No-wits, save Poets, clap 'till your Hands ake,
+And tho' the Wits Damn us, we'll say the Whims take.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _Set by Mr._ JOHN BARRETT, _and Sung by Mrs._ LINDSEY.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Cælia_ hence with Affectation,
+  Hence with all this careless Air;
+Hypocrisy is out of Fashion,
+  With the Witty and the Fair:
+Nature all thy Arts discloses,
+  While the Pleasures she supplies;
+Paint thy glowing Cheeks with Roses,
+  And inflame thy sparkling Eyes.
+
+Foolish _Cælia_ not to know,
+  Love thy Int'rest and thy Duty;
+Thou to love alone dost owe,
+  All thy Joy, and all thy Beauty:
+Mark the tuneful Feather'd kind,
+  At the coming of the Spring;
+All in happy Pairs are joyn'd,
+  And because they love they Sing.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ CLARK.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How often have I curs'd that sable Deceit,
+  For making me wish and admire;
+And rifle poor _Ovid_ to learn to intreat,
+  When Reason might check my desire:
+For sagely of late it has been disclos'd,
+  There's nothing, nothing conceal'd uncommon;
+No Miracles under a Mask repos'd,
+  When knowing _Cynthia's_ a Woman.
+
+Tho' Beauty's great Charms our Sences delude,
+  'Tis the Centre attracts our Needle;
+And Love's a Jest when thought to intrude,
+  The design of it to unriddle:
+A Virgin may show strange coyness in Love,
+  And tell you Chimera's of Honour;
+But give her her Wish, the Man she approves,
+  No Labour he'll have to win her.
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge
+Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND MIRTH, VOL. 5 OF 6 ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26679-8.txt or 26679-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wit And Mirth: Or Pills to Purge Melancholy, vol. 5, by Thomas D'Urfey.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge
+Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Thomas d'Urfey
+
+Release Date: September 21, 2008 [EBook #26679]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND MIRTH, VOL. 5 OF 6 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Newman, Linda Cantoni, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. Music
+transcribed by Linda Cantoni.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="notes">
+<p class="center"><i>Transcriber&#8217;s Note</i></p>
+
+<p>This e-book is volume 5 of Thomas D&#8217;Urfey&#8217;s <i>Wit and Mirth: Or Pills
+to Purge Melancholy</i>, published in six volumes in 1719-20 by J.
+Tonson, London. It was prepared from a 1959 facsimile reprint by
+Folklore Library Publishers, Inc., New York, of an 1876 reprint
+(publisher unidentified).</p>
+
+<p>The 1719-20 edition was published in two issues. The first issue was
+published under the title <i>Songs Compleat, Pleasant and Divertive</i>;
+the second, under the <i>Wit and Mirth</i> title. The 1876 reprint
+apparently used a combination of the two issues, and volume 5 bears
+the <i>Songs Compleat</i> title. Moreover, the 1876 reprint was not an
+exact facsimile of the 1719-20 edition, as the typography and music
+notation were modernized. For more information on the various
+editions, see Cyrus L. Day, &#8220;Pills to Purge Melancholy,&#8221; <i>The Review
+of English Studies</i>, Vol. 8, No. 30 (Apr. 1932), pp. 177-184,
+available at http://www.jstor.org/stable/508831 (login required).</p>
+
+<p>Midi files have been provided for the songs in this e-book. To hear a
+song, click on the [Listen] link. Lyrics within the music notation are
+set forth in text below the music images.</p>
+
+<p>Archaic and inconsistent spellings and hyphenation have been preserved
+as they appear in the original, except that &#8220;VV&#8221; is rendered as &#8220;W.&#8221;
+The original order of titles in the <a href="#contents">Alphabetical Table</a> has also been
+preserved. Obvious printer errors in both text and music have been corrected.</p>
+
+<p>Some words in the <a href="#Page_1">first song</a> are rendered in the original in blackletter font. They are
+rendered here in <i><b>bold italics</b></i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="bbox">
+<h1><span class="sm">WIT and MIRTH:</span><br />
+<span class="xsm">OR</span><br />
+PILLS TO PURGE MELANCHOLY</h1>
+
+
+<h2 style="padding-bottom: 2em;"><span class="sm">EDITED BY</span><br />
+THOMAS D&#8217;URFEY</h2>
+
+<h3 style="padding-bottom: 2em;">
+IN SIX VOLUMES<br />
+VOLUME V</h3>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<b>FOLKLORE LIBRARY PUBLISHERS, INC.</b><br />
+NEW YORK<br />
+1959<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="sm"><i>This edition is a facsimile reproduction<br />
+of the 1876 reprint of<br />
+the original edition of 1719-1720.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sm">Copyright &copy; 1959</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="sm"><span class="smcap">Printed in the U.S.A.</span><br />
+by Noble Offset Printers, Inc.<br />
+New York 3, New York</span>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="border" style="text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;">
+<img src="images/title.jpg" width="301" height="566" alt="title page" title="title page" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="bboxn">
+<h1><span class="gespn"><span class="smcap">Songs</span></span> Compleat,</h1>
+
+<h2>Pleasant and Divertive;</h2>
+
+<h3>SET TO</h3>
+
+<h1><span class="gespxlg">MUSICK</span></h1>
+
+<h3>By Dr. <span class="smcap">John Blow</span>, Mr. <span class="smcap">Henry Purcell</span>,
+and other Excellent Masters of the Town.</h3>
+
+<div class="blockw">
+<p class="hang"><span class="lg"><b>Ending with some <span class="smcap">Orations</span>, made and
+spoken by me several times upon the
+<span class="smcap">Publick Stage</span> in the <span class="smcap">Theater</span>. Together
+with some Copies of <span class="smcap">Verses</span>, <span class="smcap">Prologues</span>,
+and <span class="smcap">Epilogues</span>, as well as for my
+own <span class="smcap">Plays</span> as those of other Poets, being
+all Humerous and Comical.</b></span>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="nbp" />
+<h2>VOL. V.</h2>
+<hr class="ntp" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="gesplg"><span class="bl">LONDON:</span></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hang"><b>Printed by <i>W. Pearson</i>, for <i>J. Tonson</i>, at
+<span class="smcap">Shakespear&#8217;s</span> Head, against <i>Catherine</i>
+Street in the <i>Strand</i>, 1719.</b>
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line001.png" width="539" height="53" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h1 style="padding-bottom: 1em;"><a name="contents" id="contents"></a><span class="gespsm">AN</span><br />
+<br />
+Alphabetical<span class="gesperrt">&nbsp;TABLE</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="gespsm">OF THE</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="gesperrt">SONGS</span> and<span class="gesperrt">&nbsp;POEMS</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="sm">Contain&#8217;d in this</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="gespxlg">BOOK.</span></h1>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="contents">
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="right">Page</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center"><b>A</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">A</span><i>LL Christians and</i> Lay-Elders <i>too</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>As I went by an Hospital</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A Shepherd kept Sheep on a</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>As I was a walking under a Grove</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A Councel grave our King did hold</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A Heroe of no small Renown</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>As the Fryer he went along</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A Bonny Lad came to the Court</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A Pox on those Fools, who exclaim</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Amongst the pure ones all</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>As Oyster</i> Nan <i>stood by her Tub</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Ah!</i> C&aelig;lia <i>how can you be</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Are you grown so Melancholy</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>As</i> Collin <i>went from his Sheep</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A Wife I do hate</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A Thousand several ways I try&#8217;d</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A</i> Whig <i>that&#8217;s full</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>As</i> Cupid <i>roguishly one Day</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>A Young Man sick and like to die</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>At Noon in a sultry Summer&#8217;s Day</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Ah! how lovely sweet and dear</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Advance, advance, advance gay</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Ah! foolish Lass, what mun I do</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_322">322</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>B</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">B</span><i>Old impudent</i> Fuller <i>invented</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>By Moon-light on the Green</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Bonny</i> Peggy Ramsey <i>that any</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>By shady Woods and purling</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Belinda! <i>why do you distrust</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Born to surprize the World</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Bring out your Coney-Skins</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Bonny</i> Scottish <i>Lads that keens</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_326">326</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>C</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">C</span><i>Ome bring us Wine in Plenty</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Come pretty Birds present your</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Come fill up the Bowl with</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Cease lovely</i> Strephon, <i>cease to</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Cease whining</i> Damon <i>to complain</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>C&aelig;lia <i>my Heart has often rang&#8217;d</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Corinna, <i>if my Fate&#8217;s to love you</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>C&aelig;lia&#8217;s <i>Charms are past expressing</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Come Beaus, Virtuoso&#8217;s, rich Heirs</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Cease, cease of</i> Cupid <i>to complain</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Come, come ye Nymphs</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Chloe <i>blush&#8217;d, and frown&#8217;d, and swore</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_345">345</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>C&aelig;lia <i>hence with Affectation</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_350">350</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>D</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">D</span><i>ID you not hear of a gallant</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Divine</i> Astrea <i>hither flew</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Draw</i> Cupid <i>draw, and make</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Damon <i>if you will believe me</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Drunk I was last Night that&#8217;s</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Delia <i>tir&#8217;d</i> Strephon <i>with her</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_343">343</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>F</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">F</span><i>Air</i> C&aelig;lia <i>too fondly contemns</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Fly</i> Damon <i>fly, &#8217;tis Death to stay</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Fear not Mortal, none shall harm</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Farewel ungrateful Traytor</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_335">335</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>G</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">G</span>Ilderoy <i>was a bonny Boy</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Good Neighbour why do you</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>H</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">H</span><i>OW now Sister</i> Betteris, <i>why look</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Heaven first created Woman to</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Hears not my</i> Phillis <i>how</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>How happy&#8217;s the Mortal whose</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>He himself courts his own Ruin</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>How happy and free is the</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>How charming</i> Phillis <i>is</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Hither turn thee, hither turn thee</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Here lies</i> William de Valence,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Ho my dear Joy, now what dost</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Here&#8217;s a Health to the Tackers</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Here are People and Sports of</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Hark! now the Drums beat up again</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_319">319</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>How often have I curs&#8217;d that sable Deceit</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>I</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">I</span><i>Am a young Lass of</i> Lynn,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>I am a jovial Cobler bold and</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>It was a Rich Merchant Man</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>If Sorrow the Tyrant invade</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>In the pleasant Month of</i> May,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>It was a happy Golden Day</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>I prithee send me back my Heart</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>In</i> Chloris <i>all soft Charms agree</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>I lik&#8217;d, but never lov&#8217;d before</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Iris <i>beware when</i> Strephon <i>pursues</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>I am one in whom Nature has</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>In vain, in vain, the God I ask</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>In the Devil&#8217;s Country there</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>In elder Time, there was of</i> Yore,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Ianthia <i>the lovely, the Joy of</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_301">301</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Jockey <i>met with</i> Jenny <i>fair</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_317">317</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>I met with the Devil in the</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Jilting is in such a Fashion</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_333">333</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Jockey <i>loves his</i> Moggy <i>dearly</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>L</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">L</span><i>ET the Females attend</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Let&#8217;s be jolly, fill our Glasses</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Let&#8217;s sing of Stage-Coaches</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Last</i> Christmas <i>&#8217;twas my chance</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Lately as thorough the fair</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Let Soldiers fight for Pay and Praise</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Long had</i> Damon <i>been admir&#8217;d</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>Laurinda, <i>who did love Disdain</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Let Ambition fire thy Mind</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Long was the Day e&#8217;er</i> Alexis,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Let&#8217;s be merry, blith and jolly</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_337">337</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>M</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">M</span><i>Y Friend if you would understand</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Marriage it seems is for better</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>N</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">N</span><i>O more let</i> Damon&#8217;s <i>Eyes pursue</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Nay pish, nay pish, nay pish Sir</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>No, no every Morning my</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_323">323</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Now my Freedom&#8217;s regain&#8217;d</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_325">325</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>No</i>, Phillis, <i>tho&#8217; you&#8217;ve all the Charms</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_338">338</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Now to you ye dry Wooers</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>O</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">O</span><i>Nce more to these Arms my</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>One Night in my Ramble I</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Oh! let no Eyes be dry</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Old</i> Lewis le Grand, <i>he raves like</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Of old Soldiers, the Song you</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Of late in the Park a fair Fancy</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Oh! how you protest and solemnly</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>P</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">P</span>Hilander <i>and</i> Sylvia, <i>a gentle</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Poor</i> Jenny <i>and I we toiled</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Pretty</i> Floramel, <i>no Tongue can</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Plague us not with idle Stories</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Poor</i> Mountfort <i>is gone, and the</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Pretty Parrot say, when I was</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>S</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">S</span><i>Tate and Ambition, all Joy to</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Stay, stay, shut the Gates</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Slaves to</i> London <i>I&#8217;ll deceive you</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Stay, ah stay, ah turn, ah whither</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>See how fair and fine she lies</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Since</i> C&aelig;lia <i>only has the Art</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Some brag of their</i> Chloris,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>See, Sirs, see here! a Doctor rare</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Swain thy hopeless Passion smother</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_344">344</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>T</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">T</span><i>Here was an old Woman liv&#8217;d</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>The Suburbs is a fine Place</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>There can be no Glad man</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Then</i> Jockey <i>wou&#8217;d a wooing away</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>There was a Lass of</i> Islington,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>There was a Lord of worthy Fame</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>There was a Jovial Tinker</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>There is a fine Doctor now come</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>There was a Knight and he</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Think wretched Mortal, think</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>To the Wars I must alass</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Though the Pride of my Passion fair</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Tell me ye</i> Sicilian <i>Swains</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>To the Grove, gentle Love, let</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Tell me no more of Flames in</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Tho&#8217; Fortune and Love may be</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>That little Patch upon your Face</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Tho&#8217; over all Mankind, besides my</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>There lives an Ale-draper near</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>The Caffalier was gone, and the</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>The</i> Devil <i>he pull&#8217;d off his Jacket</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>The Jolly, Jolly Breeze</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_347">347</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>The Jolly, Jolly Bowl</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_347">ib.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>U</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">U</span><i>Pon a Holiday, when Nymphs</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>W</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">W</span><i>Here gott&#8217;st thou the</i> Haver-mill,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When first</i> Mardyke <i>was made</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When Maids live to Thirty, yet never</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>What Life can compare, with the</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>With my Strings of small Wire</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When that young</i> Damon <i>bless&#8217;d</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Would you be a Man in Fashion</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When first I fair</i> Celinda <i>knew</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When busy Fame o&#8217;er all the</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Why am I the only Creature</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Where would coy</i> Amyntas <i>run</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When gay</i> Philander <i>left the Plain</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Wealth breeds Care, Love, Hope</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When first</i> Amyntas <i>charmed my</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Why so pale and wan fond Lover</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When I languish&#8217;d and wish&#8217;d you</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When first I saw her charming Face</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>While the Love is thinking</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>When</i> Jemmy <i>first began to love</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_332">332</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2" class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"><b>Y</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td><span class="dropcap">Y</span><i>OU Master Colours pray</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Ye brave Boys and Tars</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Young</i> Coridon <i>and</i> Phillis,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Your Hay it is mow&#8217;d, and your</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>You happy Youths, whose Hearts</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>Young Ladies that live in the</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>You I love by all that&#8217;s true</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_336">336</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td><i>You&#8217;ve been with dull Prologues</i>,</td><td class="right"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco001.png" width="217" height="53" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">1</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line002.png" width="545" height="103" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+<h1><span class="gesperrt"><span class="smcap">Songs</span></span> Compleat,</h1>
+
+<h2>Pleasant and Divertive, &amp;c.</h2>
+
+<hr class="nbp" />
+<h3>VOL. V.</h3>
+<hr class="ntp" />
+
+
+<h2><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Four-Legg&#8217;d Elder</span>: <i>Or a Horrible<br />
+Relation of a</i> <span class="smcap">Dog</span> <i>and an</i>
+Elder&#8217;s <span class="smcap">Maid</span>.</h2>
+
+
+<h3><i>By Sir</i> John Burtonhead.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music001.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music001.png" width="554" height="193" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<img src="images/capa.png" width="105" height="107" alt="A" title="A" class="floatl" />
+LL Christians and <i>Lay-Elders</i> too,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Shame amend your Lives;</span><br />
+I&#8217;ll tell you of a Dog-trick now,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which much concerns you Wives:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">2</a></span>An <i>Elder&#8217;s</i> Maid near <i>Temple-Bar</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Ah! what a Quean was she?)</span><br />
+Did take an ugly Mastiff Cur,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where Christians use to be.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons, House of Peers,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Oh now or never help!</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Th&#8217; Assembly hath not sat Four Years,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Yet hath brought forth a Whelp.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+One Evening late she stept aside,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pretending to fetch Eggs;</span><br />
+And there she made her self a Bride,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To one that had four Legs:</span><br />
+Her Master heard a Rumblement,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wonder she did tarry;</span><br />
+Not dreaming (without his consent)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Dog would ever Marry.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+He went to peep, but was afraid,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hastily did run,</span><br />
+To fetch a Staff to help his Maid,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not knowing what was done:</span><br />
+He took his <i>Ruling Elders</i> Cane,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And cry&#8217;d out <i>help, help, here</i>;</span><br />
+For <i>Swash</i> our Mastiff, and poor <i>Jane</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are now fight Dog, fight Bear.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+But when he came he was full sorry,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he perceiv&#8217;d their Strife;</span><br />
+That according to the <i>Directory</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They Two were Dog and Wife:</span><br />
+Ah! (then said he) thou cruel Quean,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why hast thou me beguil&#8217;d?</span><br />
+I wonder <i>Swash</i> was grown so lean,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor Dog he&#8217;s almost spoil&#8217;d.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+I thought thou hadst no Carnal Sense,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But what&#8217;s in our Lasses:</span><br />
+And could have quench&#8217;d thy Cupiscence,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">According to the <i>Classes</i>:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">3</a></span>But all the Parish see it plain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since thou art in this pickle;</span><br />
+Thou art an <span class="bl">Independent</span> Quean,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lov&#8217;st a <span class="bl">Conventicle</span>.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Alas now each <i>Malignant</i> Rogue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will all the World perswade;</span><br />
+That she that&#8217;s Spouse unto a Dog,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May be an <i>Elder&#8217;s</i> Maid:</span><br />
+They&#8217;ll jeer us if abroad we stir,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good Master <i>Elder</i> stay;</span><br />
+Sir, of what <i>Classis</i> is your Cur?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then what can we say?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+They&#8217;ll many graceless Ballads sing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of a <span class="bl">Presbyterian</span>;</span><br />
+That a <i>Lay Elder</i> is a thing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Made up half Dog, half Man:</span><br />
+Out, out, said he, (and smote her down)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was Mankind grown so scant?</span><br />
+There&#8217;s scarce another Dog in Town,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had took the <span class="bl">Covenant</span>.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then <i>Swash</i> began to look full grim,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>Jane</i> did thus reply;</span><br />
+Sir, you thought nought too good for him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You fed your Dog too high:</span><br />
+&#8217;Tis true he took me in the lurch,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And leap&#8217;d into my Arms;</span><br />
+But (as I hope to come at Church)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I did your Dog no harm.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then she was brought to <i>Newgate</i> Gaol,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there was Naked stripp&#8217;d;</span><br />
+They whipp&#8217;d her till the Cords did fail,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Dogs us&#8217;d to be whipp&#8217;d:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">4</a></span>Poor City Maids shed many a Tear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When she was lash&#8217;d and bang&#8217;d;</span><br />
+And had she been a <i>Cavalier</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Surely she had been hang&#8217;d.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hers was but <i>Fornication</i> found,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For which she felt the Lash:</span><br />
+But his was <i>Bugg&#8217;ry</i> presum&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Therefore they hanged <i>Swash</i>:</span><br />
+What will become of <i>Bishops</i> then,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or <i>Independency</i>?</span><br />
+For now we find both Dogs and Men,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stand up for <span class="bl">Presbytry</span>.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+She might have took a <i>Sow-gelder</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With <i>Synod-men</i> good store,</span><br />
+But she would have a <i>Lay-Elder</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Two Legs and Two more:</span><br />
+Go tell the <i>Assembly</i> of Divines,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tell Adoniram blue;</span><br />
+Tell <i>Burgess</i>, <i>Marshall</i>, <i>Case</i> and <i>Vines</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tell <i>Now-and-Anon</i> too.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Some say she was a <i>Scottish</i> Girl,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or else (at least) a Witch;</span><br />
+But she was born in <i>Colchester</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was ever such a Bitch:</span><br />
+Take heed all Christian Virgins now,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The <i>Dog-Star</i> now prevails;</span><br />
+Ladys beware your Monkeys too,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Monkeys have long Tails.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Bless <i>King</i> and <i>Queen</i>, and send us Peace,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As we had Seven Years since:</span><br />
+For we remember no <i>Dog-days</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While we enjoy&#8217;d our Prince:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span>Bless sweet Prince <i>Charles</i>, Two <i>Dukes</i>, Three Girls,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lord save his <i>Majesty</i>;</span><br />
+Grant that his <i>Commons</i>, <i>Lords</i>, and <i>Earls</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May lead such lives as <i>He</i>.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Help House of Commons</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line003.png" width="551" height="28" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>Plain Proof Ruin&#8217;d:<br />
+Or, a Grand</i><span class="gespn">&nbsp;CHEAT</span> <i>Discover&#8217;d.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music002.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music002.png" width="560" height="431" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">B</span>Old Impudent <i>Fuller</i> invented a Plot,<br />
+And all to discover the Devil knows what;<br />
+About a young Bantling strangely begot.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+The better to cheat both the Fools and the Wise,<br />
+He Impos&#8217;d on a Nation a Hundred of Lies;<br />
+That none but a Knight of the Post could devise.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span>He tells us he had the Honour to peep,<br />
+In the Warming-pan where the <i>Welch</i> Infant did sleep;<br />
+And found out a Plot which was Damnable deep,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can believe.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Then to the Wise Senate he suddenly went,<br />
+Where he told all the Lies that he then could invent,<br />
+For which he was Voted a Rogue by consent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+And tho&#8217; he was Punish&#8217;d for that his Offence,<br />
+He has almost forgot it, it was so long since,<br />
+Therefore the whole Game he began to Commence,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Then he to the Lords his bold Letters did send,<br />
+And told the high Peers, that the Plot he could mend,<br />
+And make it as plain, as he first did pretend,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+He told them his Witnesses were mighty Men,<br />
+That wou&#8217;d come to the Town, tho&#8217; the Devil knows when,<br />
+And make <i>William Fuller</i> once famous agen,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+The Lords they were Generous, Noble and Kind,<br />
+And allowed him Freedom his &#8217;Squires to find,<br />
+The which he will do when the Devil is Blind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+So the Peers they declared him a scandalous Sot,<br />
+And none thinks him fit to manage a Plot,<br />
+If <i>Newgate</i> and <i>Tyburn</i> does fall to his Lot,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>There&#8217;s no Body will deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+They gave him no more time than himself did require,<br />
+To find out his <i>Jones</i> and the wandering &#8217;Squire,<br />
+But the time being come, they were never the nigher,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span>The brave House of <i>Commons</i> next for him did send,<br />
+To hear what the Block-headly Fool wou&#8217;d pretend,<br />
+Who humbly request, that they wou&#8217;d him befriend,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+One day he declar&#8217;d they were near <i>London</i> Town,<br />
+But the very next Day into <i>Wales</i> they were flown,<br />
+Such nimble Heel&#8217;d Witnessess never were known,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+When being Examin&#8217;d about his sham Plot,<br />
+He answer&#8217;d as though he had minded them not,<br />
+Perhaps the Young Rogue had his Lesson forgot,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+But after some Study and impudent Tales,<br />
+Ask&#8217;d for a Commission to march into <i>Wales</i>,<br />
+And be Chang&#8217;d to a Herse, as Rogues goes to Gaols,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+But seeing his Impudence still to abound,<br />
+To go search for the Men who were not to be found,<br />
+They immediately sent him back to <i>Fleet</i> Pound,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+From the <i>Fleet</i> to the Cart may he quickly advance<br />
+To learn the true Steps of old <i>Oates&#8217;s</i> New Dance,<br />
+And something beside, or it is a great Chance,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+He has made it a Trade to be doing of Wrong,<br />
+In Swearing, and Lying, and Cheating so long,<br />
+For all his Life time, he&#8217;s been at it ding dong,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Welch Taffy</i> he raves and crys Splutterdenails,<br />
+He&#8217;s abused hur Highness with Lies and with Tales,<br />
+Hur will hang hur if e&#8217;er hur can catch hur in <i>Wales</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body will deny.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Woman Warrior.</i></h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hang"><b><span class="lg"><i>Who liv&#8217;d in</i> <span class="smcap">Cow-cross</span> <i>near</i> <span class="smcap">West-Smithfield</span>; <i>who changing her
+Apparrel, entered her self on Board in Quality of a Soldier, and
+sailed to</i> <span class="smcap">Ireland</span>, <i>where she Valiantly behaved her self,
+particularly at the Siege of</i> <span class="smcap">Cork</span>, <i>where she lost her Toes, and
+received a Mortal Wound in her Body, of which she since Died in her
+return to</i> <span class="smcap">London</span>.</span></b></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music003.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music003.png" width="559" height="404" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>Et the Females attend,<br />
+To the Lines which are penn&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For here I shall give a Relation;</span><br />
+Of a Young marry&#8217;d Wife,<br />
+Who did venture her Life,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For a Soldier, a Soldier she went from the Nation.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span>She her Husband did leave,<br />
+And did likewise receive<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Arms, and on Board she did enter;</span><br />
+And right valiantly went,<br />
+With a Resolution bent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the Ocean, the Ocean her Life there to venture.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yet of all the Ships Crew,<br />
+Not a Seaman that knew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They then had a Woman so near &#8217;em;</span><br />
+On the Ocean so deep,<br />
+She her Council did keep,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ay, and therefore, and therefore she never did fear &#8217;em.</span><br />
+<br />
+She was valiant and bold,<br />
+And would not be controul&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By any that dare to offend her;</span><br />
+If a Quarrel arose,<br />
+She would give him dry Blows,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Captain, the Captain did highly commend her.</span><br />
+<br />
+For he took her to be,<br />
+Then of no mean Degree,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Gentleman&#8217;s Son or a &#8217;Squire;</span><br />
+With a Hand white and fair,<br />
+There was none could compare,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which the Captain, the Captain did often admire.</span><br />
+<br />
+On the <i>Irish</i> Shore,<br />
+Where the Cannons did roar,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With many stout Lads she was landed;</span><br />
+There her Life to expose,<br />
+She lost two of her Toes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in Battle, in Battle was daily commended.</span><br />
+<br />
+Under <i>Grafton</i> she fought,<br />
+Like a brave Hero stout,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And made the proud Tories retire;</span><br />
+She in Field did appear,<br />
+With a Heart void of Fear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she bravely, she bravely did charge and give fire.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span>While the battering Balls,<br />
+Did assault the strong Walls,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of <i>Cork</i> and the sweet Trumpets sounded;</span><br />
+She did bravely advance,<br />
+Where by unhappy Chance,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This young Female, young Female alass she was wounded.</span><br />
+<br />
+At the End of the Fray,<br />
+Still she languishing lay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then over the Ocean they brought her;</span><br />
+To her own Native Shore,<br />
+Now they ne&#8217;er knew before,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That a Woman, a Woman had been in that Slaughter.</span><br />
+<br />
+What she long had conceal&#8217;d,<br />
+Now at length she reveal&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That she was a Woman that ventur&#8217;d;</span><br />
+Then to <i>London</i> with care,<br />
+She did straitways repair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But she dy&#8217;d, oh she dy&#8217;d e&#8217;er the City she enter&#8217;d.</span><br />
+<br />
+When her Parents beheld,<br />
+They with Sorrow was fill&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For why they did dearly adore her:</span><br />
+In her Grave now she lies,<br />
+&#8217;Tis not watery Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No nor Sighing, nor Sighing that e&#8217;er can restore her.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco002.png" width="122" height="184" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A Medly, Compos&#8217;d out of several</i> SONGS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music004.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music004.png" width="553" height="504" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">S</span>Tate and Ambition, all Joy to great <i>C&aelig;sar</i>,<br />
+<i>Sawney</i> shall ne&#8217;er be my Colly my Cow;<br />
+All Hail to the Shades, all Joy to the Bridegroom,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And call upon <i>Dobbin</i> with Hi, Je, ho.</span><br />
+Remember ye Whigs, what was formerly done;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>Jenny</i> come tye my bonny Cravat,</span><br />
+If I live to grow old for I find I go down,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I cannot come every Day to Wooe.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Jove</i> in his Throne was a Fumbler, <i>Tom Farthing</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>Jockey</i> and <i>Jenny</i> together did lie;</span><br />
+Oh Mother <i>Roger</i>: Boys, fill us a Bumper,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For why will ye die my poor <i>C&aelig;lia</i>, ah why?</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span>Hark! how thundring Cannons do roar,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ladies of <i>London</i> both wealthy and fair;</span><br />
+<i>Charon</i> make hast and Ferry me over,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lilli burlero bullen a lah.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Chloris</i> awake, Four-pence-half-penny-farthing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Give me the Lass that is true Country bred;</span><br />
+Like <i>John</i> of <i>Gaunt</i> I walk in <i>Covent-Garden</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am a Maid and a very good Maid:</span><br />
+Twa bonny Lads was <i>Sawney</i> and <i>Jockey</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Delights of the Bottle and Charms of good Wine;</span><br />
+Wading the Water so deep my sweet <i>Moggy</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cold and Raw, let it run in the right Line.</span><br />
+<br />
+Old <i>Obadiah</i> sings <i>Ave-Maria</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing Lulla-by-Baby with a Dildo;</span><br />
+The old Woman and her Cat sat by the Fire,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now this is my Love d&#8217;y&#8217; like her ho?</span><br />
+Old <i>Charon</i> thus preached to his Pupil <i>Achilles</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And under this Stone here lies <i>Gabriel John</i>;</span><br />
+Happy was I at the fight of Fair <i>Phillis</i>,<br />
+What should a Young Woman do with an old Man?<br />
+<br />
+There&#8217;s old Father <i>Peters</i> with his Romish Creatures,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There was an old Woman sold Pudding and Pies,</span><br />
+Cannons with Thunder shall fill them with Wonder,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I once lov&#8217;d a Lass that had bright rowling Eyes:</span><br />
+There&#8217;s my Maid <i>Mary</i>, she does mind her Dairy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I took to my Heels and away I did run;</span><br />
+And bids him prepare to be happy to Morrow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alass! I don&#8217;t know the right end of a Gun.</span><br />
+<br />
+My Life and Death does lye both in your Power,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And every Man to his Mind, <i>Shrewsbury</i> for me;</span><br />
+On the Bank of a Brook as I sat Fishing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall I Die a Maid and never Married be:</span><br />
+Uds bobs let <i>Oliver</i> now be forgotten,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Joan</i> is as good as my Lady in the Dark;</span><br />
+Cuckolds are Christians Boys all the World over,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And here&#8217;s a full Bumper to <i>Robin John Clark</i>.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Trooper</span> <i>Watering his</i> <span class="smcap">Nagg</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music005.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music005.png" width="555" height="329" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>Here was an old Woman liv&#8217;d under a Hill,<br />
+Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo;<br />
+She had good Beer and Ale for to sell,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, had she so, had she so, had she so;</span><br />
+She had a Daughter her name was <i>Siss</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo;</span><br />
+She kept her at Home for to welcome her Guest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, did she so, did she so, did she so.</span><br />
+<br />
+There came a Trooper riding by,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing trolly, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+He call&#8217;d for Drink most plentifully,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, did he so, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+When one Pot was out he call&#8217;d for another,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing trolly, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+He kiss&#8217;d the Daughter before the Mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, did he so, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+And when Night came on to Bed they went,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing trolly, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+It was with the Mother&#8217;s own Consent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, was it so, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span>Quoth she what is this so stiff and warm,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing trolly <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+&#8217;Tis Ball my Nag he will do you no harm,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, wont he so, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+But what is this hangs under his Chin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing trolly, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+&#8217;Tis the Bag he puts his Provender in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, is it so, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+Quoth he what is this? Quoth she &#8217;tis a Well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing trolly, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+Where Ball your Nag may drink his fill,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, may he so, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+But what if my Nag should chance to slip in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing trolly, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+Then catch hold of the Grass that grows on the brim,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, must I so, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+But what if the Grass should chance to fail,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing trolly, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+Shove him in by the Head, pull him out by the Tail,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ho, ho, must I so, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line004.png" width="554" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A Trip to the</i> Jubilee. <i>The Tune by Mr.</i> R. Loe.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music006.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music006a.png" width="555" height="293" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music006b.png" width="558" height="334" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span>Ome bring us Wine in plenty,<br />
+We&#8217;ve Money enough to spend;<br />
+I hate to see the Pots empty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Man cannot Drink to&#8217;s Friend:</span><br />
+Then drawer bring up more Wine,<br />
+And merrily let it pass;<br />
+We&#8217;ll drink till our Faces do shine,<br />
+He that wont may look like an Ass:<br />
+And we&#8217;ll tell him so to his Face,<br />
+If he offers to baulk his Glass,<br />
+For we defy all such dull Society.<br />
+<br />
+&#8217;Tis drinking makes us merry,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Mirth diverts all Care;</span><br />
+A Song of hey down derry,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is better than heavy Air:</span><br />
+Make ready quickly my Boys,<br />
+And fill up your Glasses higher;<br />
+For we&#8217;ll present with Huzzas,<br />
+And merrily all give fire;<br />
+Since drinking&#8217;s our desire,<br />
+And friendship we admire,<br />
+For here we&#8217;ll stay, ne&#8217;er call Drawer what&#8217;s to pay.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Good Fellow</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music007.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music007.png" width="554" height="432" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>Et&#8217;s be jolly, fill our Glasses,<br />
+Madness &#8217;tis for us to think,<br />
+How the World is rul&#8217;d by Asses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That o&#8217;ersway the Wise with Chink:</span><br />
+Let not such vain Thoughts oppress us,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Riches prove to them a Snare;</span><br />
+We are all as rich as <i>Cr&#339;sus</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drink your Glasses, take no care.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wine will make us fresh as Roses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And our Sorrows all forgot;</span><br />
+Let us fuddle well our Noses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drink ourselves quite out of Debt:</span><br />
+When grim Death is looking for us,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whilst we&#8217;re singing o&#8217;er our Bowls;</span><br />
+<i>Bacchus</i> joyning in our Chorus,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Death depart, here&#8217;s none but Souls.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Jockey&#8217;s</span> <i>Escape from</i> DUNDEE; <i>and the<br />
+Parsons Daughter whom he had Mow&#8217;d.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music008.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music008.png" width="557" height="608" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Here gott&#8217;st thou the <i>Haver-mill bonack</i>?<br />
+Blind Booby can&#8217;st thou not see;<br />
+Ise got it out of the <i>Scotch-man&#8217;s</i> Wallet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he lig lousing him under a Tree:</span><br />
+<i>Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,</i><br />
+<i>Come Saddle my Horse, and call up my Man;</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Come open the Gates, and let me go free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And shew me the way to bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span>For I have neither robbed nor stole,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor have I done any injury;</span><br />
+But I have gotten a Fair Maid with Child,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Minister&#8217;s Daughter of bonny <i>Dundee</i>:</span><br />
+<i>Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,</i><br />
+<i>Come saddle my Horse and call up my Man,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Come open the Gates and let me go free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And Ise gang no more to bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+Altho&#8217; Ise gotten her Maiden-head,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Geud feth Ise given her mine in lieu;</span><br />
+For when at her Daddy&#8217;s Ise gang to Bed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ise mow&#8217;d her without any more to do?</span><br />
+Ise cuddle her close, and gave her a Kiss,<br />
+Pray tell now where is the harm of this,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Then open the Gates and let me go free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And Ise gang no more to bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+All <i>Scotland</i> ne&#8217;er afforded a Lass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So bonny and blith as <i>Jenny</i> my dear;</span><br />
+Ise gave her a Gown of Green on the Grass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But now Ise no longer must tarry here:</span><br />
+Then saddle my Nag that&#8217;s bonny and gay,<br />
+For now it is time to gang hence away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Then open the Gates and let me go free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She&#8217;s ken me no more to bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+In Liberty still I reckon to Reign,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For why I have done no honest Man wrong;</span><br />
+The Parson may take his Daughter again,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For she&#8217;ll be a Mammy before it is long:</span><br />
+And have a young Lad or Lass of my breed,<br />
+Ise think I have done her a generous deed;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Then open the Gates and let me go free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For Ise gang no more to bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+Since <i>Jenny</i> the Fair was willing and kind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And came to my Arms with a ready good will;</span><br />
+A token of love Ise left her behind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus I have requited her kindness still:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span>Tho&#8217; <i>Jenny</i> the Fair I often had mow&#8217;d,<br />
+Another may reap the harvest I sow&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Then open the Gates and let me go free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She&#8217;s ken me no more to bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her Daddy would have me to make her my Bride,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But have and to hold I ne&#8217;er could endure;</span><br />
+From bonny <i>Dundee</i> this Day I will ride,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It being a place not safe and secure:</span><br />
+Then <i>Jenny</i> farewel my Joy and my dear,<br />
+With Sword in my Hand the passage I&#8217;se clear;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Then open the Gates and let me go free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For Ise gang no more to Bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+My Father he is a muckle good Leard,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Mother a Lady bonny and gay;</span><br />
+Then while I have strength to handle a Sweard,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Parson&#8217;s request Ise never obey:</span><br />
+Then <i>Sawny</i> my Man be thou of my Mind,<br />
+In bonny <i>Dundee</i> we&#8217;se ne&#8217;er be confin&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>The Gates we will force to set ourselves free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And never come more to bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+The <i>Sawny</i> reply&#8217;d Ise never refuse,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To fight for a Leard so valiant and bold;</span><br />
+While I have a drop of Blood for to lose,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E&#8217;er any fickle Loon shall keep us in hold:</span><br />
+This Sweard in my Hand I&#8217;ll valiantly weild,<br />
+And fight by your side to kill or be kill&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For forcing the Gates and set ourselves free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And so bid adieu to bonny</i> Dundee.</span><br />
+<br />
+With Sweard ready drawn they rid to the Gate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where being denied an Entrance thro&#8217;</span><br />
+The Master and Man they fought at that rate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That some ran away, and others they slew:</span><br />
+Thus <i>Jockey</i> the Leard and <i>Sawny</i> the Man,<br />
+They valiantly fought as Highlanders can,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>In spight of the Loons they set themselves free,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And so bid adieu to bonny</i> Dundee.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG. <i>Sung by Mr.</i> Dogget.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music009.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music009a.png" width="557" height="854" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music009b.png" width="554" height="271" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>et&#8217;s sing of Stage-Coaches,<br />
+and fear no Reproaches;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">for riding in one,</span><br />
+but daily be jogging,<br />
+<img src="images/hook.png" width="14" height="19" alt="" class="floatl" style="margin-left: -1em" />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">while whistling, and flogging,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">while whistling and flogging,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">the Coachman drives on;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">with a hey geeup, geeup hey ho,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">with a hey gee Dobin hey ho, hey,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">with a hey, gee Dobin hey ho.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In Coaches thus strowling,<br />
+Who wou&#8217;d not be rowling;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With Nymphs on each side,</span><br />
+Still Pratling and Playing;<br />
+<img src="images/hook.png" width="14" height="19" alt="" class="floatl" style="margin-left: -1em" />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Knees interlaying,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">We merrily ride.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;"><i>With a hey</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Here chance kindly mixes,<br />
+All sorts and all Sexes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">More Females than Men,</span><br />
+We squeese &#8217;em, we ease &#8217;em,<br />
+<img src="images/hook.png" width="14" height="19" alt="" class="floatl" style="margin-left: -1em" />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The jolting does please &#8217;em,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Drive jollily then,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;"><i>With a hey</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The harder you&#8217;re driving,<br />
+The more &#8217;tis reviving,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor fear we to tell,</span><br />
+For if the Coach tumble,<br />
+<img src="images/hook.png" width="14" height="19" alt="" class="floatl" style="margin-left: -1em" />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We&#8217;ll have a rare Jumble,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And then up tails all,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;"><i>With a hey</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco003.png" width="94" height="52" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The Crafty Cracks of</i> East-Smith-Field, <i>who pick&#8217;t up a Master
+Colour upon</i> Tower-Hill, <i>whom they Plundred of a Purse of</i> Silver,
+<i>with above Threescore</i> Guineas.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music010.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music010.png" width="554" height="523" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">Y</span>OU Master Colours pray draw near,<br />
+And listen to my Report;<br />
+My Grief is great, for lo of late,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Ladies I chanc&#8217;d to Court:</span><br />
+Who did meet me on <i>Tower-Hill</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their Beauties I did behold:</span><br />
+<i>Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And plunder&#8217;d me of my Gold.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span>I&#8217;ll tell you how it came to pass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This sorrowful Story is thus:</span><br />
+Of Guineas bright a glorious Sight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I had in a Cat-skin Purse:</span><br />
+The Value of near Fourscore Pounds,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As good as e&#8217;er I had told,</span><br />
+<i>Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And plunder&#8217;d me of my Gold.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+I saw two poor distressed Men,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who lay upon <i>Tower-Hill</i>,</span><br />
+To whom in brief I gave Relief,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">According to my good Will:</span><br />
+Two wanton Misses drawing near,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Guineas they did behold;</span><br />
+They laid a Plot by which they Got,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Silver and yellow Gold.</span><br />
+<br />
+They both address&#8217;d themselves to me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thus they was pleas&#8217;d to say;</span><br />
+Kind Sir, indeed, we stand in need,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altho&#8217; we are fine and gay:</span><br />
+Of some Relief which you may give,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I thought they were something bold;</span><br />
+The Plot was laid, I was betray&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And plunder&#8217;d of all my Gold.</span><br />
+<br />
+Alas &#8217;tis pity, then I cry&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such Ladies of good Repute,</span><br />
+Should want Relief, therefore in brief,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I gave &#8217;em a kind Salute:</span><br />
+Thought I of them I&#8217;ll have my Will,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altho&#8217; I am something old;</span><br />
+They were I see too wise for me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They plunder&#8217;d me of my Gold.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then to <i>East-Smithfield</i> was I led,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there I was entertain&#8217;d:</span><br />
+With Kisses fine and Brandy Wine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Merriment we remain&#8217;d:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span>Methought it was the happiest Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That ever I did behold;</span><br />
+Sweet Meat alass! had sower Sauce,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They plunder&#8217;d me of my Gold.</span><br />
+<br />
+Time after Time to pay their Shot,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Guineas I would lug out;</span><br />
+Those Misses they wou&#8217;d make me stay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And rally the other bout:</span><br />
+I took my Fill of Pleasures then<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altho&#8217; I was something old;</span><br />
+Those Joys are past, they would not last,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;m plunder&#8217;d of all my Gold.</span><br />
+<br />
+As I was at the wanton Game,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Pocket they fairly pick&#8217;d;</span><br />
+And all my Wealth they took by stealth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus was a poor Colour trick&#8217;d:</span><br />
+Let me therefore a Warning be,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Merchants both young and old;</span><br />
+For now of late hard was my Fate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;m plunder&#8217;d of all my Gold.</span><br />
+<br />
+They got three Pounds in Silver bright,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Guineas above Threescore,</span><br />
+Such sharping Cracks breaks Merchants Backs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll never come near them more:</span><br />
+Sure now I have enough of them,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Sorrow cannot be told;</span><br />
+That crafty Crew makes me look Blew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;m plunder&#8217;d of all my Gold.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco004.png" width="118" height="59" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Dance of the</i> <span class="smcap">Usurer</span> <i>and the</i> Devil.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music011.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music011.png" width="558" height="350" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>AST <i>Christmas</i> &#8217;twas my chance,<br />
+To be in <i>Paris</i> City;<br />
+Where I did see a Dance,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In my conceit was very pretty&mdash;By men of France.</span><br />
+<br />
+First came the Lord of <i>Pool</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he begun his Measure;</span><br />
+The next came in a Fool,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And danc&#8217;d with him for pleasure&mdash;With his Tool.</span><br />
+<br />
+The next a Knight came in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who look&#8217;d as he would swagger;</span><br />
+And after follow&#8217;d him<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A merry needy Beggar&mdash;Dancing in.</span><br />
+<br />
+The next a Gentleman,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On him a Servant tending,</span><br />
+And there the Dance began,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With nimble Bodies bending&mdash;Like two Friends.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span>Then in a Lawyer came,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With him a Knave came leaping;</span><br />
+And as they Danc&#8217;d in Frame,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So Hand in Hand went skipping&mdash;To the Term.</span><br />
+<br />
+The next a Citizen,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he a Cuckold leading;</span><br />
+So round about the Room,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their Masque they fell a Treading&mdash;And fain they would.</span><br />
+<br />
+The next an Usurer,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old fat Guts he came grunting;</span><br />
+The Devil left all care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For joy he fell a Jumping&mdash;To see him there.</span><br />
+<br />
+And ending then their Masque,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fool his Lord he carries</span><br />
+Upon his Back in hast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No longer there he tarries&mdash;But left the place.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Beggar took the Knight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who took it in Derision;</span><br />
+The Searjeant took in Spite,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gentleman to Prison&mdash;For all his might.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Cuckold, silly Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altho&#8217; he was abhorred:</span><br />
+He took the Citizen,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And led him by the Forehead&mdash;And out he ran.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Devil lik&#8217;d it well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His lot it was to carry;</span><br />
+The Usurer to Hell,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there with him to tarry.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco005.png" width="67" height="66" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Suburbs</span> <i>is a fine place: To the</i> Tune<br />
+<i>of</i> <span class="smcap">London</span> <i>is a fine Town.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music012.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music012.png" width="556" height="186" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HE Suburbs is a fine Place belonging to the City,<br />
+It has no Government at all, alack the more the Pity;<br />
+A Wife, a silly Animal, esteemed in that same Place,<br />
+For there a Civil Woman&#8217;s now asham&#8217;d to shew her Face:<br />
+The Misses there have each Man&#8217;s Time, his Money, nay, his Heart,<br />
+Then all in all, both great and small, and all in ev&#8217;ry Part.<br />
+<br />
+Which Part it is a thorough-fair so open and so large,<br />
+One well might sail through ev&#8217;ry Tail even in a western Barge;<br />
+These Cracks that Coach it now, when first they came to Town,<br />
+Did turn up Tail for a Pot of Ale in Linsey Wolsey Gown.<br />
+<br />
+The Bullies first debauch&#8217;d &#8217;em, in Baudy <i>Covent-Garden</i>,<br />
+That filthy place, where ne&#8217;er a Wench was ever worth a Farthing;<br />
+And when their Maiden-heads are sold to sneaking Lords,<br />
+Which Lords are Clapt at least nine-fold for taking of their Words.<br />
+<br />
+And then my Lord, that many tries, she looks so Innocent,<br />
+Believing he Infected her, he makes a Settlement;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span>These are your Cracks, who skill&#8217;d in all kind of Debauches,<br />
+Do daily piss, spue and whore in their own glass Coaches.<br />
+<br />
+Now Miss turn Night-walker, till Lord-Mayor&#8217;s Men she meets,<br />
+O&#8217;er Night she&#8217;s Drunk, next Day she&#8217;s finely flogged thro&#8217; <i>London</i> streets;<br />
+After their Rooms of State are chang&#8217;d to Bulks or Coblers Stalls,<br />
+&#8217;Till Poverty and Pox agree they dying in Hospitals.<br />
+<br />
+This Suburbs gallant Fop that takes delight in Roaring,<br />
+He spends his time in Huffing, Swearing, Drinking, and in Whoring;<br />
+And if an honest Man and his Wife meet them in the Dark,<br />
+Makes nothing to run the Husband through to get the name of Spark.<br />
+<br />
+But when the Constable appears, the Gallant, let me tell ye,<br />
+His Heart denies his Breeches, and sinks into his Belly;<br />
+These are the silly Rogues that think it fine and witty,<br />
+To laugh and joak at Aldermen, the Rulers of the City.<br />
+<br />
+They&#8217;d kiss our Wives, but hold, for all their plotting Pates,<br />
+While they would get us Children, we are getting their Estates;<br />
+And still in vain they Court pretending in their Cares,<br />
+That their Estates may thus descend unto the Lawful Heirs.<br />
+<br />
+Their Play-houses I hate, are Shops to set off Wenches,<br />
+Where Fop and Miss, like Dog and Bitch, do couple under Benches;<br />
+That I might advise the chiefest Play-house monger,<br />
+I have a Sister of my own both Handsomer and Younger.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span>She lives not far off in the Parish of St. <i>Clements</i>,<br />
+She never liv&#8217;d in Cellar nor sold Oranges and Lemons:<br />
+Then why should Play-house Trulls with Paint and such Temptations,<br />
+Be an Eye sore to me &amp; more to the best part o&#8217;th&#8217; Nation.<br />
+<br />
+Now you that all this while have listened to my Dity,<br />
+With streightened Hands pray drink a Health unto this noble City:<br />
+And let us pray to <i>Jove</i>, these Suburb folks to mend,<br />
+And having now no more to say, I think it fit to end.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The Old Woman&#8217;s</i> WISH.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music013.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music013.png" width="557" height="442" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>S I went by an Hospital,<br />
+I heard an Old Woman cry,<br />
+Kind Sir, quoth she, be kind to me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once more before I Die,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span>And grant to me those Joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belong to Woman-kind,</span><br />
+And the Fates above reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+I find an itching in my Blood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altho&#8217; it be something Cold,</span><br />
+Therefore Good Man do what you can,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To comfort me now I&#8217;m Old.</span><br />
+And Grant to me those Joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belong to Woman-kind,</span><br />
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+Altho&#8217; I cannot see the Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor never a glance of light;</span><br />
+Kind Sir, I swear and do declare,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I honour the Joys of Night:</span><br />
+Then grant to me those Joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belong to Woman-kind,</span><br />
+And the Fates above Reward you Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+When I was in my Blooming Youth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My vigorous Love was Hot;</span><br />
+Now in my Age I dare Engage,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A fancy I still have got:</span><br />
+Then give to me those Joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belong to Woman-kind,</span><br />
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+You shall miss of a Reward,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If Readily you comply;</span><br />
+Then do not Blush but touch my flesh.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This minute before I die:</span><br />
+O let me tast those Joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belong to Woman-kind,</span><br />
+And the Fates above reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span>I Forty Shillings would freely give,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis all the Mony I have;</span><br />
+Which I full long have begged for,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To carry me to my Grave:</span><br />
+This I would give to have the Bliss,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belongs to Woman-kind,</span><br />
+And the Fates above reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+I had a Husband in my Youth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As very well &#8217;tis known,</span><br />
+The truth to tell he pleased me well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But now I am left alone;</span><br />
+And long to tast the good Old Game,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belongs to Woman-kind:</span><br />
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+If Forty Shillings will not do,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Petticoat and my Gown;</span><br />
+Nay Smock also shall freely go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make up the other Crown:</span><br />
+Then Sir, pray Grant that kind Request,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belongs to Woman-kind;</span><br />
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+Tho&#8217; I am Fourscore Years of Age,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I love with a Right good Will;</span><br />
+And what in truth I want in Youth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have it in perfect Skill:</span><br />
+Then grant to me that Charming Bliss,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belongs to Woman-kind;</span><br />
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now if you do not pleasure me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And give me the thing I crave;</span><br />
+I do protest I shall not rest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I am laid in my Grave:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span>Therefore kind Sir, grant me the Joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That belong to Woman-kind;</span><br />
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The Mad-Man&#8217;s</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music014.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music014.png" width="556" height="431" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>Here can be no Glad-man compar&#8217;d to the Mad-man,<br />
+His Mind is still void of Care;<br />
+His Fits and his Fancies, are above all Mischances,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Mirth is his ordinary Fare.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad, Mad, Mad let&#8217;s be,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Nor shall the foul Fiend be Madder than we.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+The Wise and the Witty, in Court and in City,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are subject to sorrow and Pain;</span><br />
+While he that is Mad, knows not why to be Sad,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor has any cause to complain:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span>We laugh at you Wise Men, that thus do despise Men,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose Senses you think to Decline;</span><br />
+Mark well and you&#8217;ll see, what you count but Frenzy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is indeed but Raptures Divine.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Let the Grave and the Wise, pluck out their Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To set forth a Book worth a Groat;</span><br />
+We Mad-men are quicker, grow Learn&#8217;d with good Liquor,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Chirp a Merry note.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hast thou lost thy Estate Man, why, care not for that Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What Wealth may&#8217;st not fancy thy own;</span><br />
+More than Queen <i>Dido</i>, or her Ass-Ear&#8217;d <i>Midas</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That great Philosopher&#8217;s stone.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Pompey</i> was a Mad-man, and so long a Glad-man;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But at length he was forc&#8217;d to flee;</span><br />
+For <i>C&aelig;sar</i> from <i>Gallia</i> beat him in <i>Pharsalia</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Cause a madder Fellow then he.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8217;Twas this Extasie brave, that the great Courage gave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If your Eyes were but ope&#8217;d and would see;</span><br />
+To great <i>Alexander</i>, that mighty Commander,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Mad a Fellow as could be.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then around goes a Health to the Lady o&#8217;th&#8217; House,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If any Man here does forsake it;</span><br />
+For a Fool let him go, we know better Manners,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so we mean to take it.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+There&#8217;s no Night Mirth&#8217;s going, nor any Lad wooing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Mad-men are privy unto it;</span><br />
+For the Stars so peep, into every such thing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wink upon us as you do it.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span>When the Frost, Ice and Snow, do benumb things below,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We Chirp as merry as Larks;</span><br />
+Our Sack and our Madness, consumes cold and sadness,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we are the Jovial Sparks.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Has thy Mistress frown&#8217;d on thee, or thy Rival out-gone thee?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let Sober and Wise Fellows pine;</span><br />
+Whilst bright <i>Miralind</i> and goodly <i>Dulcind</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the rest of the Fairies are thine.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+A Mad-man needs baulk no manner of talk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Tongues never guilty with Treason;</span><br />
+But a Wise Knave would suffer, if the same he should utter,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For a wise Man&#8217;s Guilt is his Reason.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Then be thou Mad</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line006.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music015.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music015a.png" width="551" height="296" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music015b.png" width="556" height="269" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span> Shepherd kept Sheep on a Hill so high, <i>fa, la, la</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+And there came a pretty Maid passing by, <i>fa, la</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+Shepherd, quoth she, dost thou want e&#8217;er a Wife,<br />
+No by my troth I&#8217;m not weary of my Life, <i>fa, la, la</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Shepherd for thee I care not a Fly, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+For thou&#8217;st not the Face with a fair Maid to lie, <i>fa, la</i>,<br />
+How now my Damsel, say&#8217;st thou me so,<br />
+Thou shalt tast of my bottle before thou dost go, <i>fa, la</i>.<br />
+<br />
+Then he took her and laid her upon the Ground, <i>fa, la</i>,<br />
+And made her believe that the World went round, <i>fa, la</i>,<br />
+Look yonder my Shepherd, look yonder I spy,<br />
+There are fine pretty Babies that dance in the Sky, <i>fa, la</i>.<br />
+<br />
+And now they are vanisht, and now they appear, <i>fa, la</i>,<br />
+Sure they will tell Stories of what we do here, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+Lie still my dear <i>Chloris</i>, enjoy thy Conceit,<br />
+For the Babes are too young and too little to prate, <i>fa, la, la</i>.<br />
+<br />
+See how the Heavens fly swifter than Day, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+Rise quickly, or they will all run away, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+Rise quickly my Shepherd, quickly I tell ye,<br />
+For the Sun, Moon and Stars are got all in my Belly, <i>fa, la</i>.<br />
+<br />
+O dear, where am I? pray shew me the way, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+Unto my Father&#8217;s House hard by, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span>If he chance to Chide me for staying so long,<br />
+I&#8217;ll tell him the fumes of your Bottle were strong, <i>fa, la, la</i>.<br />
+<br />
+And now thou hast brought my Body to shame, <i>fa, la</i>,<br />
+I prithee now tell me what is thy Name, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+Why <i>Robin</i> in the Rushes my Name is, quoth he,<br />
+But I think I told her quite contrary, <i>fa, la, la</i>.<br />
+<br />
+Then for <i>Robin</i> in the Rushes, she did enquire, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+But he hung down his Head, and he would not come nigh her, <i>fa, la, la</i>,<br />
+He wink&#8217;d with one Eye, as if he had been Blind,<br />
+And he drew one Leg after a great way behind, <i>fa, la, la</i>.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line007.png" width="555" height="33" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music016.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music016.png" width="557" height="457" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>S I was a walking under a Grove,<br />
+Within my self, as I suppos&#8217;d;<br />
+My Mind did oftentimes remove,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by no means could be disclosed:</span><br />
+At length by chance a Friend I met,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which caused me long time to tarry;</span><br />
+And thus of me she did intreat,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To tell her when I meant to Marry.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sweet-heart, quoth I, if you would know,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then hear the Words, and I&#8217;ll reveal it;</span><br />
+Since in your Mind you bear it so,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in your Heart you will conceal it:</span><br />
+She promis&#8217;d me she&#8217;d make no Words,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But of such things she would be wary;</span><br />
+And thus in brief I did begin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To tell her when I meant to Marry.</span><br />
+<br />
+When <i>Shrove-tide</i> falls in <i>Easter</i> week,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>Christmas</i> in the midst of <i>July</i>;</span><br />
+When Lawyers for no Fees will Plead,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Taylors they prove Just and Truly:</span><br />
+When all Deceits are quite put down,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Truth by all Men is preferred;</span><br />
+And <i>Indigo</i> dies Red and Brown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O then my Love and I&#8217;ll be Married.</span><br />
+<br />
+When Men and Beasts in the Ocean flow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Fishes in green Fields are feeding;</span><br />
+When Muscle-shells in the Streets grow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Swans upon dry Rocks be breeding:</span><br />
+When Cockle-shells are Diamond Rings,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Glass to Pearl may be compared;</span><br />
+Gold is made of a Grey-goose Wings,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh then my Love and I&#8217;ll be Married.</span><br />
+<br />
+When hostesses do reckon true,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>Dutchmen</i> leave off drinking Brandy;</span><br />
+When Cats do bark, and Dogs do Mew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Brimstone is took for Sugar-candy:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span>Or when that <i>Whitsontide</i> do fall,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within the Month of <i>January</i>;</span><br />
+And a Cobler works without an Awl,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O then my, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+When Women know not how to Scold,<br />
+And Maids on Sweet-hearts ne&#8217;er are thinking;<br />
+When Men in the Fire complain of Cold,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Ships on <i>Salisbury</i> Plain fear sinking:</span><br />
+Or when Horse-Coursers turn honest Men,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>London</i> into <i>York</i> is carried;</span><br />
+And out of One you can take Ten,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Oh then, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+When Candlesticks do serve for Bells,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Frying-pans they do use for Ladles;</span><br />
+When in the Sea they dig for Wells,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Porridge-pots they use for Cradles:</span><br />
+When Maids forget to go a <i>Maying</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a Man on his Back an Ox can carry;</span><br />
+Or when the Mice with the Cat be playing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh then, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Good Sir, since you have told me when,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you&#8217;re resolv&#8217;d for to Marry;</span><br />
+I wish with all my Heart till then,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That for a Wife you still may tarry:</span><br />
+But if all young Men were of your mind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Maids no better were preferred;</span><br />
+I think it were when the D&mdash;&mdash;l were blind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That we and our Lovers should be Married.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco006.png" width="208" height="77" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span></p>
+<h2>Gilderoys <i>last Farewel. To a New Tune.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music017.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music017.png" width="553" height="619" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">G</span><i>Ilderoy</i> was a bonny Boy,<br />
+Had Roses tull his shun,<br />
+His Stockings were made of the finest Silk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Garters hanging down:</span><br />
+It was a comely sight to see,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was so trim a Boy;</span><br />
+He was my Joy and Heart&#8217;s Delight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>My Handsom</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span>Oh sike a charming Eye he had,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Breath as sweet as a Rose,</span><br />
+He never wore a Hiland plad,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But costly silken Cloaths:</span><br />
+He gain&#8217;d the Love of Ladies gay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There&#8217;s none to him was Coy;</span><br />
+Ah, wa&#8217;s me, Ise mourn this Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For my Dear</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+My <i>Gilderoy</i> and I was born,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both in one Town together;</span><br />
+Not past Seven years of Age,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since one did Love each other:</span><br />
+Our Daddies and our Mammies both,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were cloath&#8217;d with mickle Joy,</span><br />
+To think upon the Bridal Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Betwixt I and my</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+For <i>Gilderoy</i>, that Love of mine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Geud faith Ise freely bought:</span><br />
+A Wedding-sark of Holland fine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Silk in Flowers wrought:</span><br />
+And he gave me a Wedding Ring,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I receiv&#8217;d with Joy;</span><br />
+No Lads or Lasses e&#8217;er could Sing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like my sweet</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+In mickle Joy we spent our time,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till we was both Fifteen;</span><br />
+Then gently he did lay me down,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amongst the leaves so green:</span><br />
+When he had done what he could do,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He rose and he gang&#8217;d his way;</span><br />
+But ever since I lov&#8217;d the Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>My Handsome</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+While we did both together play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He kiss&#8217;d me o&#8217;er and o&#8217;er;</span><br />
+Geud faith it was as blith a Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As e&#8217;er I saw before:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span>He fill&#8217;d my Heart in every Vein,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Love and mickle Joy;</span><br />
+Who was my Love and Hearts delight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Mine own sweet</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh never, never shall I see,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cause of past Delight;</span><br />
+Or sike a lovely Lad as he,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Transport my Ravish&#8217;d sight:</span><br />
+The Law forbids what Love enjoyns,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And does prevent our Joy;</span><br />
+Though just and fair were the Designs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Of me and</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+&#8217;Cause <i>Gilderoy</i> had done amiss,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must he be punish&#8217;d then;</span><br />
+What kind of Cruelty is this<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hang such Handsom Men?</span><br />
+The Flower of the <i>Scotish</i> land,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A sweet and lovely Boy;</span><br />
+He likewise had a Lady&#8217;s Hand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>My Handsom</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+At <i>Leith</i> they took my <i>Gilderoy</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there God wot they bang&#8217;d him:</span><br />
+Carry&#8217;d him to fair <i>Edenburgh</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there God wot they hang&#8217;d him:</span><br />
+They hang&#8217;d him up above the rest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was so trim a Boy;</span><br />
+My only Love and Heart&#8217;s Delight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>My Handsom</i> Gilderoy.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thus having yielded up his Breath,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In <i>Cypress</i> he was laid;</span><br />
+Then for my dearest, after Death,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Funeral I made:</span><br />
+Over his Grave a Marble-stone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I fixed for my Joy;</span><br />
+Now I am left to weep alone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For my dear</i> Gilderoy.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i><span class="gespn">&nbsp;SCOTCH</span> <i>Wedding</i><br />
+<br />
+<i>Between</i> <span class="smcap">Jockey</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jenny</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music018.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music018.png" width="551" height="307" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HEN <i>Jockey</i> wou&#8217;d a Wooing away,<br />
+On our Feast-day when he was foo;<br />
+Then <i>Jenny</i> put on her best Array,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When she thought <i>Jockey</i> would come to Woo.</span><br />
+<br />
+If I thought <i>Jockey</i> were come to Town,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It wad be for the leve of me;</span><br />
+Then wad I put on beth Hat and Goown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because I&#8217;d seem worstsome in his Eye.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then <i>Jenny</i> prick&#8217;d up a brant breeght broow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She was as breeght as onny clock;</span><br />
+As <i>Moggy</i> always used to do,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For fear her Sweet-heart shou&#8217;d her mock.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then <i>Jenny</i> shoo tripped up the Stairs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And secretly to shift her Smock;</span><br />
+But leard how loud her mother swears,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O hast away <i>Jenny</i>, and come to <i>Jock</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span>Then <i>Jenny</i> came tripping down the Stairs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh Leard so nimbly tripped she;</span><br />
+But oh how <i>Jockey</i> began to stare,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he beheld hur fair Beauty!</span><br />
+<br />
+Then <i>Jenny</i> made a Curtshy low,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until the Stairs did touch her Dock;</span><br />
+But Leard how loud her Mother did lough,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When shoo <i>Jenny</i> was come to <i>Jock</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then <i>Jockey</i> tuke <i>Jenny</i> by the Nease,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saying my dear Lovey canst thou loof me?</span><br />
+My Father is Dead and has left me Land,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some fair ould Houses twa or three.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thou shalt be the Lady o&#8217;er them aw,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I doot, quod <i>Jenny</i> you do me mock;</span><br />
+Ad ta my saw, quoth <i>Jockey</i>, then,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I come to woo thee <i>Jenny</i>, quoth <i>Jock</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp"><b><i>This to be said after the</i> SONG.</b></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>Sea then they gang&#8217;d to the Kirk to be wad; noow they den&#8217;t use to wad
+in <i>Scotchland</i> as they wad in <i>England</i>, for they gang to the Kirk,
+and they take the Donkin by the Rocket, and say, good morn Sir Donkin,
+says Sir Donkin, ah <i>Jockey</i> sen ater me, wit ta ha <i>Jenny</i> to thy
+wadded Wife? ay by her Lady quoth <i>Jockey</i> and thanka twa, we aw my
+Heart; ah <i>Jenny</i> sen ater me, wit ta ha <i>Jockey</i> to thy wadded Loon,
+to have and to hold for aver and aver, forsaking aw other Loons,
+lubberloons, black Lips, blue Nases, an aw Swiggbell&#8217;d caves? ah, an
+these twa be&#8217;nt as weel wadded as e&#8217;er I wadded twa in <i>Scotchland</i>,
+the Deel and St. <i>Andrew</i> part ye.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco007.png" width="72" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> Scotch <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>made to the</i> Irish <span class="smcap">Jigg</span>, <i>and<br />
+Sung to the King at</i> Whitehall.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music019.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music019.png" width="551" height="610" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>Ately as thorough the fair <i>Edinborough</i>,<br />
+To view the fair Meadows as I was ganging;<br />
+<i>Jockey</i> and <i>Moggy</i> were walking and talking,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Love and Religion, thus closely Haranguing;</span><br />
+Never says <i>Moggy</i>, come near me false <i>Jockey</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For thou art a <i>Whig</i>, and I mean to abhor thee;</span><br />
+Ize be no Bride, nor will lig by thy side,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For no sneaking Rebel shall lift a Leg o&#8217;er me.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span><i>Jockey.</i> Fairest and Dearest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">And to my Heart nearest,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To live with thy Frowns I no longer am able;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">I am so loving,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">And thou art so moving,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each Hair of thy Head ties me fast as a Cable:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Thou hast that in thee,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Ise sure to win me,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To <i>Jew</i>, <i>Turk</i> or <i>Atheist</i>, so much I adore thee;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Nothing I&#8217;d shun,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">That is under the Sun,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So I have the pleasure to lift a Leg o&#8217;er thee.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Moggy.</i> Plotters and Traytors,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">And Associators,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In every degree thou shalt swear to oppose &#8217;em;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Swimmers and Trimmers,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">The Nations Redeemers,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for thy Reward thou shalt sleep in my Bosom;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">I had a Dad,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Was a Royal brave Lad,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And as true as the Sun to his Monarch before me;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;"><i>Moggy</i> he cry&#8217;d,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">The same hour that he Dy&#8217;d,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let no sneaking Rebel e&#8217;er lift a Leg o&#8217;er thee.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Jockey.</i> Adieu then ye Crew then,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Of Protestant Blue Men,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Faction his <i>Moggy</i> from <i>Jockey</i> shall sever;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Thou shalt at Court,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">My Conversion Report,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am not the first Whig by his Wife brought in favour;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Ise never deal,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">For the dull Common Weal,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To fight for true Monarchy shall be my Glory;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Lull&#8217;d with thy Charms,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3.2em;">Then I die in your Arms,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I have the Pleasure to lift a Leg o&#8217;er thee.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Fair Lass of</i> ISLINGTON.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music020.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music020.png" width="552" height="185" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>Here was a Lass of <i>Islington</i>,<br />
+As I have heard many tell;<br />
+And she would to Fair <i>London</i> go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fine Apples and Pears to sell:</span><br />
+And as along the Streets she flung,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With her basket on her Arm:</span><br />
+Her Pears to sell, you may know it right well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This fair Maid meant no harm.</span><br />
+<br />
+But as she tript along the Street,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her pleasant Fruit to sell;</span><br />
+A Vintner did with her meet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who lik&#8217;d this Maid full well:</span><br />
+Quoth he, fair Maid, what have you there?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Basket decked brave;</span><br />
+Fine Pears, quoth she, and if it please ye<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A taste Sir you shall have.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Vintner he took a Taste,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lik&#8217;d it well, for why;</span><br />
+This Maid he thought of all the rest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most pleasing to his Eye:</span><br />
+Quoth he, fair Maid I have a Suit,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you to me must grant;</span><br />
+Which if I find you be so kind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nothing that you shall want.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span>Thy Beauty doth so please my Eye,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dazles so my sight;</span><br />
+That now of all my Liberty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am deprived quite:</span><br />
+Then prithee now consent to me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And do not put me by;</span><br />
+It is but one small courtesie,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All Night with you to lie.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sir, if you lie with me one Night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you propound to me;</span><br />
+I do expect that you should prove,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both courteous, kind and free:</span><br />
+And for to tell you all in short,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It will cost you Five Pound,</span><br />
+A Match, a Match, the Vintner said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so let this go round.</span><br />
+<br />
+When he had lain with her all Night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Money she did crave,</span><br />
+O stay, quoth he, the other Night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thy Money thou shalt have:</span><br />
+I cannot stay, nor I will not stay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I needs must now be gone,</span><br />
+Why then thou may&#8217;st thy Money go look,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Money I&#8217;ll pay thee none.</span><br />
+<br />
+This Maid she made no more ado,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But to a Justice went;</span><br />
+And unto him she made her moan,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who did her Case lament:</span><br />
+She said she had a Cellar Let out,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To a Vintner in the Town;</span><br />
+And how that he did then agree<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Five Pound to pay her down.</span><br />
+<br />
+But now, quoth she, the Case is thus,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Rent that he will pay;</span><br />
+Therefore your Worship I beseech,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To send for him this Day:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span>Then strait the Justice for him sent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And asked the Reason why;</span><br />
+That he would pay this Maid no Rent?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To which he did Reply,</span><br />
+<br />
+Although I hired a Cellar of her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Possession was mine?</span><br />
+I ne&#8217;er put any thing into it,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But one poor Pipe of Wine:</span><br />
+Therefore my Bargain it was hard,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you may plainly see;</span><br />
+I from my Freedom was Debarr&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then good Sir favour me.</span><br />
+<br />
+This Fair Maid being ripe of Wit,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She strait Reply&#8217;d again;</span><br />
+There were two Butts more at the Door,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why did you not roul them in?</span><br />
+You had your Freedom and your Will,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As is to you well known;</span><br />
+Therefore I do desire still,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For to receive my own.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Justice hearing of their Case,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did then give Order strait;</span><br />
+That he the Money should pay down,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She should no longer wait:</span><br />
+Withal he told the Vintner plain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If he a Tennant be;</span><br />
+He must expect to pay the same,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he could not sit Rent-free.</span><br />
+<br />
+But when the Money she had got,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She put it in her Purse:</span><br />
+And clapt her Hand on the Cellar Door,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And said it was never the worse:</span><br />
+Which caused the People all to Laugh,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see this Vintner Fine:</span><br />
+Out-witted by a Country Girl,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">About his Pipe of Wine.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The most Famous</i> <span class="gespn">BALLAD</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Of King</i> <span class="smcap">Henry</span> <i>the 5th; his Victory over<br />
+the</i> French <i>at</i> Agencourt.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music021.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music021.png" width="553" height="217" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span> Councel grave our King did hold,<br />
+With many a Lord and Knight:<br />
+That he might truly understand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That <i>France</i> did hold his Right.</span><br />
+<br />
+Unto the King of <i>France</i> therefore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Embassadors he sent;</span><br />
+That he might truly understand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Mind and whole Intent.</span><br />
+<br />
+Desiring him in friendly sort,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His lawful Right to yield;</span><br />
+Or else he swore by dint of Sword,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To win it in the Field.</span><br />
+<br />
+The King of <i>France</i> with all his Lords,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did hear this Message plain;</span><br />
+And to our brave Embassador,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did answer with Disdain.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span>And said our King was yet too young,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And of but tender Age;</span><br />
+Therefore they pass not for his Threats,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor fear not his Courage.</span><br />
+<br />
+His Knowledge yet in Feats of Arms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As yet is very small;</span><br />
+His tender Joints more fitter are,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To toss a Tennis-ball.</span><br />
+<br />
+A Tun of Tennis-balls therefore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Pride and great Disdain;</span><br />
+He sent unto this Royal King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To recompence his Pain.</span><br />
+<br />
+Which Answer when our King did hear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He waxed wroth in Heart;</span><br />
+And swore he would provide such Balls,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should make all <i>France</i> to smart.</span><br />
+<br />
+An Army then our King did hold,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which was both good and strong;</span><br />
+And from <i>Southampton</i> is our King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With all his Navy gone.</span><br />
+<br />
+In <i>France</i> he landed safe and sound,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both he and all his Train;</span><br />
+And to the Town of <i>Husle</i> then<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He marched up amain.</span><br />
+<br />
+Which when he had besieg&#8217;d the Town,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Against the fenced Walls;</span><br />
+To batter down the stately Towers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He sent his <i>English</i> Balls.</span><br />
+<br />
+When this was done our King did march,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then up and down the Land;</span><br />
+And not a <i>Frenchman</i> for his Life,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Durst once his Force withstand.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span>Until he came to <i>Agencourt</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whereas it was his chance;</span><br />
+To find the King in readiness,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With all the Power of <i>France</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+A mighty Host he had prepar&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Armed Soldiers then;</span><br />
+Which were no less by just Account,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than Forty Thousand Men.</span><br />
+<br />
+Which sight did much amaze our King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he and all his Host;</span><br />
+Not passing Fifteen Thousand had,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Accounted with the most.</span><br />
+<br />
+The King of <i>France</i> who well did know,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Number of our Men;</span><br />
+In vaunting Pride and great Disdain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did send an Herald then:</span><br />
+<br />
+To understand what he would give,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Ransom of his Life,</span><br />
+When they in Field had taken him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amongst the bloody strife.</span><br />
+<br />
+And when our King with cheerful Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This answer then did make;</span><br />
+Before that it does come to pass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some of your Hearts will ake.</span><br />
+<br />
+And to your proud presumptuous King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Declare this thing, quoth he;</span><br />
+My own Heart&#8217;s-blood will pay the Price,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nought else he gets of me.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then spake the noble Duke of <i>York</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O noble King, quoth he,</span><br />
+The Leading of this Battle brave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It doth belong to me.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span>God-a-mercy Cousin <i>York</i>, he said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I grant thee thy Request;</span><br />
+Then lead thou on couragiously,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I will lead the rest.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then came the bragging <i>Frenchmen</i> down,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With cruel Force and Might;</span><br />
+With whom our Noble King began,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A fierce and dreadful Fight.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Archers they discharg&#8217;d their Shafts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As thick as Hail from Skie;</span><br />
+And many a <i>Frenchman</i> in the Field,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That happy Day did die.</span><br />
+<br />
+Their Horses tumbled on the Stakes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so their Lives they lost;</span><br />
+And many a <i>Frenchman</i> there was ta&#8217;en,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Prisoners to their cost.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ten Thousand Men that Day was slain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Enemies in the Field:</span><br />
+And eke as many Prisoners,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were forc&#8217;d that Day to yield.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thus had our King a happy Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Victory over <i>France</i>;</span><br />
+And brought them quickly under foot<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That late in Pride did prance.</span><br />
+<br />
+God save our King, and bless this Land,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And grant to him likewise;</span><br />
+The upper-hand and Victory,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of all his Enemies.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco008.png" width="317" height="72" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 style="padding-bottom: 1em;"><i>The Lady</i> <span class="smcap">Isabella&#8217;s</span> <i>Tragedy: Or, the<br />
+Step-Mother&#8217;s Cruelty.</i> <i>To
+the foregoing Tune.</i></h2>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>Here was a Lord of worthy Fame,<br />
+And a Hunting he would ride,<br />
+Attended by a noble Train,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Gentry on each side.</span><br />
+<br />
+And whilst he did in Chace remain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see both Sport and Play;</span><br />
+His Lady went as she did feign,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto the Church to pray.</span><br />
+<br />
+This Lord he had a Daughter Fair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose Beauty shin&#8217;d so bright;</span><br />
+She was belov&#8217;d both far and near,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of many a Lord and Knight.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fair <i>Isabella</i> was she call&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Creature Fair was she;</span><br />
+She was her Father&#8217;s only Joy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you shall after see.</span><br />
+<br />
+But yet her Cruel Step-Mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did Envy her so much;</span><br />
+That Day by Day she sought her Life,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Malice it was such.</span><br />
+<br />
+She bargain&#8217;d with the Master-Cook,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To take her Life away;</span><br />
+And taking of her Daughter&#8217;s Book,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She thus to her did say.</span><br />
+<br />
+Go home, sweet Daughter, I thee pray.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go hasten presently;</span><br />
+And tell unto the Master-Cook,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These Words which I tell thee.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span>And bid him dress to Dinner straight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That fair and milk-white Doe;</span><br />
+That in the Park doth shine so bright,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There&#8217;s none so fair to show.</span><br />
+<br />
+This Lady fearing of no harm,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Obey&#8217;d her Mother&#8217;s Will;</span><br />
+And presently she hasted home,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Mind for to fulfil.</span><br />
+<br />
+She straight into the Kitchin went,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Message for to tell,</span><br />
+And there the Master-Cook she spy&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who did with Malice swell.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now Master-Cook it must be so,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Do that which I thee tell;</span><br />
+You needs must dress the milk-white Doe,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which you do know full well.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then straight his cruel bloody Hands,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He on the Lady laid;</span><br />
+Who quivering and shaking stands,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While thus to her he said:</span><br />
+<br />
+Thou art the Doe that I must dress,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See here, behold my Knife;</span><br />
+For it is Pointed presently,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To rid thee of thy Life.</span><br />
+<br />
+O then cry&#8217;d out the Scullion Boy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As loud as loud might be;</span><br />
+O save her Life, good Master-Cook,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make your Pies of me?</span><br />
+<br />
+For pity sake do not destroy<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Lady with your Knife;</span><br />
+You know she is her Father&#8217;s Joy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Christ&#8217;s sake save her Life.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span>I will not save her Life he said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor make my Pies of thee;</span><br />
+Yet if thou dost this Deed betray,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy Butcher I will be;</span><br />
+<br />
+Now when this Lord he did come home,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For to sit down to Meat;</span><br />
+He called for his Daughter dear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To come and carve his Meat.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now sit you down, his Lady said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O sit you down to Meat;</span><br />
+Into some Nunnery she&#8217;s gone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Daughter dear forget.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then solemnly he made a Vow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before the Company;</span><br />
+That he would neither eat nor drink,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until he did her see.</span><br />
+<br />
+O then bespoke the Scullion Boy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a loud Voice so high;</span><br />
+If that you will your Daughter see<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Lord cut up the Pye.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wherein her Flesh is minced small,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And parched with the Fire;</span><br />
+All caused by her Step-Mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who did her Death desire.</span><br />
+<br />
+And cursed be the Master-Cook,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O cursed may he be!</span><br />
+I proffer&#8217;d him my own Heart&#8217;s Blood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Death to set her free.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then all in Black this Lord did Mourn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for his Daughter&#8217;s sake;</span><br />
+He judged for her Step-Mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be burnt at a Stake.</span><br />
+<br />
+Likewise he judg&#8217;d the Master-Cook,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In boyling Lead to stand;</span><br />
+He made the simple Scullion Boy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Heir to all his Land.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Ballad</span></h2>
+
+<h3><i>In Praise of a certain Commander in the City.</i></h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music022.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music022.png" width="553" height="469" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span> Heroe of no small Renown,<br />
+But noted for a Man of Mettle;<br />
+Thro&#8217; all the Parts of <i>London</i> Town,<br />
+No Gentleman, nor yet a Clown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No grave wise man, nor stupid Beetle.</span><br />
+<br />
+By many Deeds of Prowess done,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He&#8217;s gain&#8217;d a matchless Reputation;</span><br />
+Perform&#8217;d by neither Sword nor Gun,<br />
+But by what means you&#8217;ll know anon,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And how he work&#8217;d his Preservation.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span>Well mounted on a noble Steed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Sword and Pistol charg&#8217;d before him;</span><br />
+Altho&#8217; we must confess indeed,<br />
+Of either Arms there was no need,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Conduct did alone secure him.</span><br />
+<br />
+With&#8217;s Wife upon a single Horse,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">T&#8217;wards <i>Eppin</i> both rid out together;</span><br />
+But what than ill Luck can be worse,<br />
+A High-way-Man of equal Force,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alass, obstructed both their Pleasure.</span><br />
+<br />
+With Pistol cock&#8217;d he made demand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And told them he must have their Money;</span><br />
+The Major wisely would not stand,<br />
+Nor on his Pistols clap a Hand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was not such a Fighting Tony.</span><br />
+<br />
+But spur&#8217;d away as swift as Wind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Elk or Tyger could run faster;</span><br />
+Was ever Man so stout and kind,<br />
+To leave his frighted Wife behind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Expos&#8217;d to such a sad Disaster.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her Necklace, Cloaths and Diamond Ring,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The greedy Robber quickly fell to;</span><br />
+One Petticoat he let her bring<br />
+Away with Smock, and t&#8217;other Thing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To let her noble Heroe smell to.</span><br />
+<br />
+This Slight bred sad domestick Strife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altho&#8217; the Man&#8217;s to be commended;</span><br />
+For what&#8217;s a loving handsome Wife,<br />
+To a Man&#8217;s Money or his Life,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all is lost when that is ended.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco009.png" width="134" height="25" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music023.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music023.png" width="556" height="215" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>S the Fryer he went along, and a poring in his Book,<br />
+At last he spy&#8217;d a Jolly brown Wench a washing of her Buck,<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing, <i>Stow the Fryer, stow the Fryer</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Some good Man, and let this fair Maid go</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Fryer he pull&#8217;d out and a Jolly brown T&mdash;&mdash;d as much as he could handle,<br />
+Fair Maid, quoth he, if thou earnest Fire in thy A&mdash;&mdash; come light me this same Candle.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing, <i>Stow the Fryer</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Maid she sh&mdash;&mdash; and a Jolly brown T&mdash;&mdash; out of her Jolly brown Hole,<br />
+Good Sir, quoth she, if you will a Candle light come blow me this same Cole.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing, <i>Stow the Fryer</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Part of the Sparks flew into the <i>North</i>, and part into the <i>South</i>,<br />
+And part of this jolly brown T&mdash;&mdash; flew into the Fryer&#8217;s Mouth.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing, <i>Stow the Fryer, stow the Fryer</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Some good Man, and let this fair Maid go</i>.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Lass of</i> <span class="smcap">Lynn&#8217;s</span> <i>sorrowful Lamentation<br />
+for the Loss of her Maiden-Head.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music024.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music024.png" width="556" height="340" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span> Am a young Lass of <i>Lynn</i>,<br />
+Who often said thank you too;<br />
+My Belly&#8217;s now almost to my Chin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot tell what to do</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+My being so free and kind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Does make my Heart to rue;</span><br />
+The sad Effects of this I find,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And cannot tell what to do</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+My Petticoats which I wore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And likewise my Aprons too;</span><br />
+Alass, they are all too short before,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Was ever young Maid so crost,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I who thank&#8217;d him too:</span><br />
+For why, my Maiden-head is lost,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot tell what to do</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span>In sorrowful sort I cry&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And may now for ever rue;</span><br />
+The Pain lies in my Back and Side,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot tell what to do</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Alass I was kind and mild,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But now the same I rue;</span><br />
+Having no Father for my Child,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+I took but a Touch in jest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Believe me this is true;</span><br />
+Yet I have proved, I protest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And cannot</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+He crav&#8217;d my Virginity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gave me his own in lieu;</span><br />
+In this I find I was too kind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And cannot</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Each Damsel will me degrade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so will the young Men too;</span><br />
+I&#8217;m neither Widow, Wife, nor Maid,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+A Cradle I must provide,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Chair and Posset too;</span><br />
+Nay, likewise twenty Things beside,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+When I was a Maiden fair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such Sorrows I never knew;</span><br />
+But now my Heart is full of Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh what will become of me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Belly&#8217;s as big as two;</span><br />
+&#8217;Tis with a Two-legg&#8217;d Tympany,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I cannot tell what to do</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span>You Lasses that hear my Moan,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you will your Joys renew;</span><br />
+Besure, while Married, lye alone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Or else you at length may rue</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+I came of as good a Race,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As most is in <i>Lynn</i>&#8217;s fair Town;</span><br />
+And cost a great deal bringing up,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>But a little Thing laid me down</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line006.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The Jovial Tinker.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music025.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music025.png" width="557" height="556" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HERE was a Jovial Tinker,<br />
+Which was a good Ale drinker;<br />
+He never was a Shrinker,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Believe me this is true;</span><br />
+And he came from the wild of <i>Kent</i>,<br />
+When all his Money was gone and spent,<br />
+Which made him look like a <i>Jack-a-Lent</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And Joan&#8217;s Ale is new,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And Joan&#8217;s Ale is new Boys,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And Joan&#8217;s Ale is new.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+The Tinker he did settle,<br />
+Most like a Man of Mettle,<br />
+And vow&#8217;d to pawn his Kettle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now mark what did ensue;</span><br />
+His Neighbours they flock&#8217;d in apace,<br />
+To see <i>Tom Tinker&#8217;s</i> comely Face,<br />
+Where they drank soundly for a space,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Cobler and the Broom Man,<br />
+Came next into the Room, Man,<br />
+And said they would drink for boon Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let each one take his due;</span><br />
+But when good Liquor they had found,<br />
+They cast their Caps upon the Ground,<br />
+And so the Tinker he drank round,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Rag-Man being weary,<br />
+With the Burden he did carry,<br />
+He swore he would be merry,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spend a Shilling or two;</span><br />
+And he told his Hostess to her Face,<br />
+The Chimney-corner was his Place,<br />
+And he began to drink apace,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Pedlar he drew nigher,<br />
+For it was his desire,<br />
+To throw the Rags i&#8217;th&#8217; Fire,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And burn the bundle blue;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span>So whilst they drank whole Flashes,<br />
+And threw about the Glasses,<br />
+The Rags were burnt to Ashes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3><i>The Second</i> PART.</h3>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>ND then came in a Hatter,<br />
+To see what was the matter,<br />
+He scorn&#8217;d to drink cold Water,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amongst that Jovial Crew;</span><br />
+And like a Man of Courage stout,<br />
+He took the Quart-Pot by the Snout,<br />
+And never left till all was out,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>O</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Taylor being nimble,<br />
+With Bodkin, Shears and Thimble,<br />
+He did no whit dissemble,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I think his name was <i>True</i>;</span><br />
+He said that he was like to choak,<br />
+And he call&#8217;d so fast for Lap and Smoak,<br />
+Until he had pawn&#8217;d the Vinegar Cloak,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then came a pitiful Porter,<br />
+Which often did resort there,<br />
+Quoth he, I&#8217;ll shew some Sport here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amongst the Jovial Crew;</span><br />
+The Porter he had very bad luck,<br />
+Before that it was ten a Clock,<br />
+The Fool got Drunk, and lost his Frock,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The bonny brave Shoe-maker,<br />
+A brave Tobacco taker,<br />
+He scorn&#8217;d to be a Quaker,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I think his Name was <i>Hugh</i>;</span><br />
+He call&#8217;d for Liquor in so fast,<br />
+Till he forgot his Awl and Last,<br />
+And up the Reckoning he did cast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span>And then came in the Weaver,<br />
+You never saw a braver,<br />
+With a Silk Man and a Glover,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Tom Tinker</i> for to view;</span><br />
+And so to welcom him to Town,<br />
+They every Man spent half a Crown,<br />
+And so the Drink went merrily down,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then came a Drunken <i>Dutchman</i>,<br />
+And he would have a touch, Man,<br />
+But he soon took too much, Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which made them after rue;</span><br />
+He drank so long as I suppose,<br />
+&#8217;Till greasie Drops fell from his Nose,<br />
+And like a Beast befoul&#8217;d his Hose,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+A <i>Welchman</i> he came next, Sir,<br />
+With Joy and Sorrow Mixt, Sir,<br />
+Who being partly vex&#8217;d, Sir,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He out his Dagger drew;</span><br />
+Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth <i>Taffy</i> then,<br />
+A <i>Welchman</i> is a Shentleman,<br />
+Come Hostess fill&#8217;s the other Cann,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>For</i> Joan&#8217;s <i>Ale</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thus like to Men of Courage stout,<br />
+Couragiously they drank about,<br />
+Till such time all the Ale was out,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I may tell to you;</span><br />
+And when the Business was done,<br />
+They every man departed home,<br />
+And promis&#8217;d <i>Joan</i> again to come,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>When she had Brew&#8217;d anew</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco010.png" width="108" height="73" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Soldiers Fortune: Or, the taking</i><br />
+Mardyke.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music026.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music026.png" width="568" height="708" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Hen first <i>Mardyke</i> was made a Prey,<br />
+&#8217;Twas Courage that carry&#8217;d the Fort away,<br />
+Then do not lose your Valours Prize,<br />
+By gazing on your Mistresses Eyes;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span>But put off your Petticoat-parley,<br />
+Potting and sotting, and laughing and quaffing Canary,<br />
+Will make a good Soldier miscarry:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never Travel for true Renown:</span><br />
+Then turn to your Marshal Mistress,<br />
+Fair <i>Minerva</i> the Soldier&#8217;s Sister is;<br />
+Rallying and sallying, with gashing and slashing of Wounds Sir,<br />
+With turning and burning of Towns, Sir,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is a high step to a great Man&#8217;s Throne.</span><br />
+<br />
+Let bold <i>Bellona&#8217;s</i> Brewer frown,<br />
+And his Tunn shall overflow the Town;<br />
+And give the Cobler Sword and Fate:<br />
+And a Tinker may trapan the State;<br />
+Such Fortunate Foes as these be,<br />
+Turn&#8217;d the Crown to a Cross at <i>Naseby</i>:<br />
+Father and Mother, Sister and Brother confounded,<br />
+And many a good Family wounded;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By a terrible turn of Fate,</span><br />
+He that can kill a Man, thunder and plunder the Town, Sir,<br />
+And pull his Enemies down, Sir,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In time may be an Officer great.</span><br />
+<br />
+It is the Sword does order all,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes Peasants rise, and Princes fall;</span><br />
+All Sylogisms in vain are spilt,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Logick like a Basket-hilt:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It handles &#8217;em joint by joint Sir,</span><br />
+Quilling and drilling, and spilling, and Killing profoundly,<br />
+Until the Disputers on Ground lie,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And have never a word to say;</span><br />
+Unless it be Quarter, Quarter, Truth is confuted by a Carter,<br />
+By stripping and nipping, and ripping and quipping Evasions,<br />
+Doth Conquer a Power of Perswasions,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Aristotle</i> hath lost the Day.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span>The Musket bears so great a force,<br />
+To Learning it has no Remorse;<br />
+The Priest, the Layman, the Lord,<br />
+Find no distinction from the Sword;<br />
+Tan tarra, Tan tarra the Trumpet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now the Walls begin to crack,</span><br />
+The Councellors struck dumb too,<br />
+By the Parchment upon the Drum too;<br />
+Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub an Alarum,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each Corporal now can out-dare &#8217;em,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Learned <i>Littleton</i> goes to rack.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then since the Sword so bright doth shine,<br />
+We&#8217;ll leave our Wenches and our Wine,<br />
+And follow <i>Mars</i> where-e&#8217;er he runs,<br />
+And turn our Pots and Pipes to Guns.<br />
+The Bottles shall be Grenadoes,<br />
+We&#8217;ll bounce about the Bravado&#8217;s<br />
+By huffing and puffing, and snuffing and cuffing the <i>French</i> Boys,<br />
+Whose Brows have been dy&#8217;d in a Trench Boys;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well got Fame is a Warriour&#8217;s Wife,</span><br />
+The Drawer shall be the Drummer,<br />
+We&#8217;ll be Colonels all next Summer<br />
+By hiking and tilting, and pointing and jointing like brave Boys,<br />
+We shall have Gold or a Grave, Boys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And there&#8217;s an end of a Soldier&#8217;s Life.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line003.png" width="551" height="28" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> MISSES <i>Complaint.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><i>Tune</i>, Packington&#8217;s Pound.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music027.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/music027a.png" width="558" height="79" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/music027b.png" width="557" height="361" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>OW now Sister <i>Betteris</i>, why look you so sad?<br />
+<i>Gillian.</i> The times are so hard and our trading so bad,<br />
+That we in our Function no Money can gain,<br />
+Our Pride and our Bravery for to maintain.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Bett.</i> True Sister, <i>Gillian</i>, I know it full well,<br />
+But what will you say if such News I do tell?<br />
+And how&#8217;t will rejoyce you, I&#8217;ll make it out plain,<br />
+Will make our Trade quick, and more Money will gain.<br />
+<br />
+There&#8217;s none of the pitiful Tribe we&#8217;ll be for,<br />
+And Six-penny Customers we will abhor;<br />
+For all those that will our Dominions invade,<br />
+Must pay for their sauce, we must live by our Trade.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Gil.</i> Good Sister if you can make this but appear,<br />
+My Spirit and Senses you greatly will chear,<br />
+But a Famine of Flesh will bring all things to pass,<br />
+Or else we are as bad still as ever we was.<br />
+<br />
+<i>Bett.</i> Lately a Counsel of Bauds there did meet,<br />
+In <i>Cock</i> and <i>Pye</i> Alley, near <i>Do-little</i> Street:<br />
+And who was the Counsel, and what was there done;<br />
+I&#8217;ll make it out to you as clear as the Sun.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span>From <i>Ratcliffe-highway</i>, and from <i>Nightingale-lane</i>,<br />
+Their Deputies come with a very fine Train:<br />
+Unto these two Couple come long sided <i>Sue</i>,<br />
+Is as good as e&#8217;er twang&#8217;d, if you give her her due.<br />
+<br />
+Then <i>Tower-Ditch</i> and <i>Hatton-Wall</i> sent in their Prayers,<br />
+And drest as compleatly as Horses to Fairs;<br />
+With them Jumping <i>Jenny</i> appear&#8217;d, as &#8217;tis said,<br />
+Who ne&#8217;er in her Life of a Man was afraid.<br />
+<br />
+The two Metropolitans came from the Park,<br />
+As arch at the Game, as e&#8217;er plaid in the Dark;<br />
+Then <i>Lutener&#8217;s</i>-lane a gay Couple did bring,<br />
+Two better, I think, was ne&#8217;er stretch&#8217;d in hemp-string.<br />
+<br />
+There was many others from Places remote,<br />
+The which were too tedious for me here to note;<br />
+And what was their Business I here will declare,<br />
+How to keep our Trade in Repute they take care.<br />
+<br />
+And first for those Ladies that walk in the Night,<br />
+Their Aprons and Handkerchiefs they should be white,<br />
+And that they do walk more in Town than in Fields,<br />
+For that is the Place most Variety yields.<br />
+<br />
+And those that are over-much worn by their Trade,<br />
+Shall go in a Vessel, their Passage being paid;<br />
+The Venture of Cuckolds, &#8217;tis called by Name,<br />
+And this is the way for to keep up our Fame.<br />
+<br />
+And this is the Ship which the Cuckolds have brought,<br />
+It lies at their Haven, and is to be frought:<br />
+And thither Whores rampant, that please may repair,<br />
+With Master and Captain to truck for their Ware.<br />
+<br />
+And for a Supply that our trade may increase,<br />
+For wanton Commodity it will grow less;<br />
+We&#8217;ll visit the Carriers, and take them up there,<br />
+And then for their Tutering we will take care.<br />
+<br />
+In this we shall ease all the Countries to do&#8217;t,<br />
+And do our selves Pleasure and Profit to boot;<br />
+For one that is crack&#8217;d in the Country before,<br />
+In <i>London</i> will make a spick and span Whore.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span>There&#8217;s many more Precepts which they did advise,<br />
+But these which I&#8217;ll give you here shall suffice:<br />
+And when you have heard them, I think you will say,<br />
+We ne&#8217;er were more likely to thrive in our way.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hanglg" style="padding-top: 1em"><i>Some Orders agreed upon at a General Consultation of the</i> Sisterhood
+<i>of</i> Nightingale-lane, Ratcliff-high-way, Tower-Ditch, Rose-mary-lane,
+Hatton-Wall, Saffron-hill, Wetstone&#8217;s-Park, Lutener&#8217;s-lane, <i>and other
+Places adjacent, for the general Encouragement and Advancement of
+their Occupation.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="dropcap">T</span><i>Hat no</i> Night-walker <i>presume to go without a White Apron and
+Handkerchief, the better to be seen.</i></p>
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>To keep due Time and Hours, for fear of the Constable and his Watch.</i></p>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>That those which are over-worn, cast off and cashier&#8217;d, do repair to
+the Ship called</i> (the Cuckolds Venture) <i>now riding at</i> Cuckolds
+Haven, <i>thence to be transported over-Sea, to have their Breeches
+repaired.</i></p>
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>That a due care be taken to visit the Carriers for crack&#8217;d
+Maidenheads, for the use and increase of our Occupation.</i></p>
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>That all honest Women belonging to either</i> Wittals <i>or</i> Cuckolds, <i>be
+admitted to the principal Places in this Ship.</i></p>
+
+<h3>VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="hang"><i>And lastly, for the better State and Magnificence of the honourable
+Corporation of</i> W&mdash;&mdash;es, <i>&#8217;tis order&#8217;d that a Chariot be made to be
+drawn by</i> Cuckolds, <i>the</i> Cuckold-makers <i>to drive, and the</i> Wittals
+<i>to ride.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 style="padding-bottom: 1em;"><i>The well approved Doctor:</i><br />
+<br />
+<i>Or, an Infallible Cure for</i> <span class="smcap">Cuckolds</span>. <i>To<br />
+the foregoing Tune.</i></h2>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HERE is a fine Doctor now come to Town,<br />
+Whose practice in Physick hath gain&#8217;d him Renown,<br />
+In curing of Cuckolds he hath the best Skill,<br />
+By giving one Dose of his approved Pill.<br />
+<br />
+His Skill is well known, and his Practice is great,<br />
+Then come to the Doctor before &#8217;tis too late;<br />
+His Med&#8217;cines are safe, and the Doctor is sure,<br />
+He takes none in Hand but he perfects, the Cure.<br />
+<br />
+The Doctor himself he doth freely unfold,<br />
+That he can Cure Cuckolds tho&#8217; never so old;<br />
+He helps this Distemper in all sorts of Men,<br />
+At Forty and Fifty, yea, Threescore and Ten.<br />
+<br />
+There was an old Man lived near to the <i>Strand</i>,<br />
+Decripid and Feeble, scarce able to stand;<br />
+Who had been a Cuckold full Forty long Years,<br />
+But hearing of this how he prick&#8217;d up his Ears.<br />
+<br />
+Away to the Doctor he went with all speed,<br />
+Where he struck a bargain, they soon were agreed;<br />
+He cured his Forehead that nothing was seen,<br />
+And now he&#8217;s as brisk as a Youth of Fifteen.<br />
+<br />
+Now this being known, how his Fame it did ring,<br />
+And unto the Doctor much trading did bring;<br />
+They came to the Doctor out of e&#8217;ery Shire,<br />
+From all Parts and Places, yea both far and near.<br />
+<br />
+Both <i>Dutchmen</i> and <i>Scotchmen</i> to <i>London</i> did ride,<br />
+With <i>Shonny-ap-Morgan</i>, and Thousands beside;<br />
+Thus all sorts and sizes, both rich Men and poor,<br />
+They came in whole Cart-loads to this Doctor&#8217;s door.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span>Some whining, some weeping, some careful and sad,<br />
+And some was contented, and others born mad;<br />
+Some crooked, some straight Horns, and some overgrown,<br />
+The like in all Ages I think was ne&#8217;er known.<br />
+<br />
+Some rich and brave flourishing Cuckolds were there,<br />
+That came in whole Droves, Sir, as if to <i>Horn-Fair</i>;<br />
+For now there is hopes to be cur&#8217;d of their Grief,<br />
+The Doctor declares in the Fall of the Leaf.<br />
+<br />
+Let none be so foolish as now to neglect,<br />
+This Doctor&#8217;s great Kindness and civil Respect;<br />
+Tho&#8217; rich Men may pay, yet the Poor may go free,<br />
+So kind and so courteous a Doctor is he.<br />
+<br />
+&#8217;Tis known he so worthy a Conscience doth make,<br />
+Poor Cuckolds he&#8217;ll cure them for Charity sake;<br />
+Nay, farther than this still his Love does enlarge,<br />
+Providing for them at his own Cost and Charge.<br />
+<br />
+But some are so wicked, that they will exclaim<br />
+Against their poor Wives, making &#8217;em bare the Blame;<br />
+And will not look out in the least for a Cure,<br />
+But all their sad Pains and their Tortures endure.<br />
+<br />
+But &#8217;tis without reason, for he that is born<br />
+Under such a Planet, is Heir to the Horn:<br />
+Then come to the Doctor both rich Men and Poor,<br />
+He&#8217;ll carefully cure you, what would you have more?<br />
+<br />
+The Term of his Time here the Doctor does write,<br />
+From six in the Morning &#8217;till seven at Night;<br />
+Where in his own Chamber he still will remain,<br />
+At the Sign of the <i>Woodcock</i> in <i>Vinegar-lane</i>.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco011.png" width="62" height="64" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg" style="padding-bottom: 1em"><i>The Doctor doth here likewise present you with the Receipt of his
+Infallible Medicine, that those which have no occasion for it
+themselves, may do good to their Neighbours and Acquaintances: And
+take it here as followeth.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>AKE five Pound of Brains of your <i>December</i> Flies,<br />
+And forty true Tears from a <i>Crocodile&#8217;s</i> Eyes;<br />
+The Wit of a <i>Weasel</i>, the Wool of a <i>Frog</i>,<br />
+With an Ounce of Conserve of <i>Michaelmas</i> Fog.<br />
+<br />
+And make him a Poultis when he goes to Bed,<br />
+To bind to his Temples behind of his Head;<br />
+As hot as the Patient he well can endure,<br />
+And this is for Cuckolds an absolute Cure.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2 style="padding-bottom: 1em"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>.</h2>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">G</span>OOD Neighbour why do you look awry,<br />
+You are a wond&#8217;rous Stranger;<br />
+You walk about, you huff and pout,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if you&#8217;d burst with Anger:</span><br />
+Is it for that your Fortune&#8217;s great,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or you so Wealthy are?</span><br />
+Or live so high there&#8217;s none a-nigh<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That can with you compare?</span><br />
+But t&#8217;other Day I heard one say,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Husband durst not show his Ears,</span><br />
+But like a Lout does walk about,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So full of Sighs and Fears:</span><br />
+Good Mrs. <i>Tart</i>, I caren&#8217;t a Fart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For you nor all your Jears.</span><br />
+<br />
+My Husband&#8217;s known for to be one,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That is most Chast and pure;</span><br />
+And so would be continually,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But for such Jades as you are:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span>You wash, you lick, you smug, you trick,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You toss a twire a grin;</span><br />
+You nod and wink, and in his Drink,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You strive to draw him in:</span><br />
+You Lie you Punck, you&#8217;re always Drunk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And now you Scold and make a Strife,</span><br />
+And like a Whore you run o&#8217; th&#8217; Score,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lead him a weary Life;</span><br />
+Tell me so again you dirty Quean,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I&#8217;ll pull you by the Quoif.</span><br />
+<br />
+Go dress those Brats, those nasty Rats,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That have a Lear so drowzy;</span><br />
+With Vermin spread they look like Dead,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good Faith they&#8217;re always Lousie:</span><br />
+Pray hold you there, and do not swear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You are not half so sweet;</span><br />
+You feed yours up with bit and sup,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And give them a dirty Teat:</span><br />
+My Girls, my Boys, my only Joys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are better fed and taught than yours;</span><br />
+You lie you Flirt, you look like Dirt,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I&#8217;ll kick you out of Doors;</span><br />
+A very good Jest, pray do your best,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Faith I&#8217;ll quit your Scores.</span><br />
+<br />
+Go, go you are a nasty Bear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Husband cannot bear it;</span><br />
+A nasty Quean as e&#8217;er was seen,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Neighbours all can swear it:</span><br />
+A fulsome Trot and good for nought,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unless it be to chat;</span><br />
+You stole a Spoon out of the Room,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Last Christning you were at:</span><br />
+You lye you Bitch you&#8217;ve got the Itch,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Neighbours know you are not sound;</span><br />
+Look how you Claw with your nasty Paw,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I&#8217;ll fell you to the Ground;</span><br />
+You&#8217;ve tore my Hood, you shall make it good<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If it cost me Forty Pound.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Jovial</i> <span class="smcap">Cobler</span> <i>of St.</i> Hellens.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music028.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music028.png" width="557" height="332" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span> am a jovial Cobler bold and brave,<br />
+And as for Employment enough I have:<br />
+For to keep jogging my Hammer and Awl,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I sit Singing and Whistling in my Stall,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Stall, Stall, whilst I sit Singing and Whistling in my Stall.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+But there&#8217;s <i>Dick</i> the Carman, and <i>Hodge</i> who drives the Dray<br />
+For Sixteen, or Eighteen Pence a Day,<br />
+Slave in the Dirt, whilst I with my Awl,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Get more Money, sitting, sitting in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there&#8217;s <i>Tom</i> the Porter, Companion of the Pot,<br />
+Who stands in the Street with his Rope and Knot,<br />
+Waiting at a Corner to hear who will him call,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there&#8217;s the jolly Broom-man, his Bread for to get,<br />
+Crys Brooms up and down in the open Street,<br />
+And one crys broken Glasses tho&#8217; ne&#8217;er so small,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span>And there&#8217;s another gang of poor smutty Souls,<br />
+Doth trudge up and down to cry Small-coals;<br />
+With a Sack on their Back, at a Door stand and call,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there&#8217;s another sort of Notes,<br />
+Who crys up and down old Suits and Coats;<br />
+And perhaps some Days get nothing at all,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there&#8217;s the Jolly Cooper with his Hoops at his Back,<br />
+Who trudgeth up and down to see who lack<br />
+Their Casks to be made tite, with Hoops great and small,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there&#8217;s a Jolly Tinker that loves a bonny Lass,<br />
+Who trudges up and down to mend old Brass;<br />
+With his long smutty Punch to force holes withal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there is another old <i>Tom Terrah</i>,<br />
+Who up and down the City drives his Barrow;<br />
+To sell his Fruit both great and small,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there is the Blind and Lame, with a Wooden Leg,<br />
+Who up and down the City they forced are to beg<br />
+Some Crumbs of Comfort, the which are but small,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there&#8217;s a gang of Wenches who Oysters sell,<br />
+And Powder <i>Moll</i> with her sweet smell;<br />
+She trudges up and down with Powder and Ball,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there&#8217;s the jovial Girls with their Milking-Pails,<br />
+Who trudge up and down with their Draggle Tails:<br />
+Flip flapping at their Heels for Custom they call,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span>&#8217;Tis these are the Gang who take great Pain,<br />
+And it is those who do me maintain;<br />
+But when it blows and rains I do pity them all,<br />
+<i>To see them trudge about while I am in my Stall</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+And there&#8217;s many more who slave and toil,<br />
+Their living to get, but it is not worth while,<br />
+To mention them, so I&#8217;ll sing in my Stall,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>I am the happiest Mortal, Mortal of them all,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>All, all, I am the happiest Mortal, Mortal of them all.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line008.png" width="530" height="37" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The Merchant and the Fidler&#8217;s</i> <span class="smcap">Wife</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music029.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music029.png" width="558" height="333" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span>T was a Rich Merchant Man,<br />
+That had both Ship and all;<br />
+And he would cross the salt Seas,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tho&#8217; his cunning it was but small.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Fidler and his Wife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They being nigh at hand;</span><br />
+Would needs go sail along with him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From <i>Dover</i> unto <i>Scotland</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span>The Fidler&#8217;s Wife look&#8217;d brisk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which made the Merchant smile;</span><br />
+He made no doubt to bring it about,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fidler to beguile.</span><br />
+<br />
+Is this thy Wife the Merchant said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She looks like an honest Spouse;</span><br />
+Ay that she is, the Fidler said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That ever trod on Shoes.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thy Confidence is very great,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Merchant then did say;</span><br />
+If thou a Wager darest to bet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll tell thee what I will lay.</span><br />
+<br />
+I&#8217;ll lay my Ship against thy Fiddle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all my Venture too;</span><br />
+So <i>Peggy</i> may gang along with me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Cabin for to View.</span><br />
+<br />
+If she continues one Hour with me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy true and constant Wife;</span><br />
+Then shalt thou have my Ship and be,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Merchant all thy Life.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Fidler was content,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He Danc&#8217;d and Leap&#8217;d for joy;</span><br />
+And twang&#8217;d his Fiddle in merriment,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For <i>Peggy</i> he thought was Coy.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then <i>Peggy</i> she went along,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Cabin for to View;</span><br />
+And after her the Merchant-Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did follow, we found it true.</span><br />
+<br />
+When they were once together,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Fidler was afraid;</span><br />
+For he crep&#8217;d near in pitious fear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thus to <i>Peggy</i> he said.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span>Hold out, sweet <i>Peggy</i> hold out,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the space of two half Hours;</span><br />
+If thou hold out, I make no doubt,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the Ship and Goods are ours.</span><br />
+<br />
+In troth, sweet <i>Robin</i>, I cannot,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He hath got me about the Middle;</span><br />
+He&#8217;s lusty and strong, and hath laid me along,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O <i>Robin</i> thou&#8217;st lost thy Fiddle.</span><br />
+<br />
+If I have lost my Fiddle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then am I a Man undone;</span><br />
+My Fiddle whereon I so often play&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away I needs must run.</span><br />
+<br />
+O stay the Merchant said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thou shalt keep thy place;</span><br />
+And thou shalt have thy Fiddle again,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But <i>Peggy</i> shall carry the Case.</span><br />
+<br />
+Poor <i>Robin</i> hearing that,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He look&#8217;d with a Merry-chear;</span><br />
+His wife she was pleas&#8217;d, and the Merchant was eas&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And jolly and brisk they were.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Fidler he was mad,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But valu&#8217;d it not a Fig;</span><br />
+Then <i>Peggy</i> unto her Husband said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kind <i>Robin</i> play us a Jigg.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then he took up his Fiddle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And merrily he did play;</span><br />
+The <i>Scottish Jigg</i> and the <i>Horn pipe</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And eke the <i>Irish Hey</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+It was but in vain to grieve,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Deed it was done and past;</span><br />
+Poor <i>Robin</i> was born to carry the Horn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For <i>Peggy</i> could not be Chast.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span>Then Fidlers all beware,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Wives are kind you see;</span><br />
+And he that&#8217;s made for the Fidling Trade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must never a Merchant be.</span><br />
+<br />
+For <i>Peggy</i> she knew right well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although she was but a Woman;</span><br />
+That Gamesters Drink, and Fidlers Wives,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They are ever Free and Common.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line009.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The Unconstant</i> <span class="smcap">Woman</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music030.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music030.png" width="556" height="334" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">D</span>ID you not hear of a gallant Sailor,<br />
+Whose Pockets they were lin&#8217;d with Gold;<br />
+He fell in Love with a pretty Creature,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I to you the Truth unfold:</span><br />
+With a kind Salute, and without Dispute,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He thought to gain her for his own,</span><br />
+<i>Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She has gone and left me all alone.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span>Don&#8217;t you remember my pretty <i>Peggy</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Oaths and Vows which you made to me:</span><br />
+All in the Chamber we were together,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you would ne&#8217;er unconstant be:</span><br />
+But you prove strange Love, and from me range,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And leave me here to Sigh and Moan;</span><br />
+<i>Unconstant Woman is true to no Man,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She&#8217;s gone and left me all alone.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+As I have Gold you shall have Treasure,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or any dainty kind of thing;</span><br />
+Thou may&#8217;st command all Delights and Pleasure,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what you&#8217;d have, Love, I would you bring:</span><br />
+But you prove shy, and at last deny,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Him that admires you alone;</span><br />
+<i>Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She&#8217;s left me here to make my moan.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+When first I saw your charming Beauty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I stood like one all in amaze;</span><br />
+I study&#8217;d only how to pay Duty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And could not speak but only gaze,</span><br />
+At last said I, fair Maid comply,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ease a wretched Lover&#8217;s Moan;</span><br />
+<i>Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She&#8217;s gone and left me here alone.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+I made her Presents of Rings and Jewels,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Diamond Stones I gave her too;</span><br />
+She took them kindly, and call&#8217;d me Jewel,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And said her Love to me was true:</span><br />
+But in the end she prov&#8217;d unkind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I thought she had been my own;</span><br />
+<i>Unconstant Woman</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+For three Months time we saw each other,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she oft said she&#8217;d be my Wife;</span><br />
+I had her Father&#8217;s Consent and Mother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I thought to have liv&#8217;d a happy Life:</span><br />
+She&#8217;d laugh and toy both Night and Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But at length she chang&#8217;d her Tone;</span><br />
+<i>Unconstant Woman, proves true to no Man,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She&#8217;s left me now to make my Moan.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span>Many a time we have walk&#8217;d together,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both Hand in Hand to an Arbour green;</span><br />
+Where Tales of Love in Sun-shiny Weather,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We did discourse and were not seen:</span><br />
+With a kind Salute we did dispute,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While we together were alone:</span><br />
+<i>Unconstant Woman she&#8217;s true to no Man,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She&#8217;s gone and left me here alone.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Since <i>Peggy</i> has my kindness slighted,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll never trust a Woman more;</span><br />
+&#8217;Twas in her alone I e&#8217;er delighted,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But since she&#8217;s false I&#8217;ll leave the Shoar:</span><br />
+In Ship I&#8217;ll enter, on Seas I&#8217;ll venture,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sail the World where I&#8217;m not known:</span><br />
+<i>Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>She&#8217;s gone and left me here alone.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line010.png" width="533" height="38" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>Sorrow banish&#8217;d in a</i> <span class="smcap">Mug</span>. <i>The Words</i><br />
+<i>by Sir</i> Edward Morgan.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music031.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music031a.png" width="556" height="352" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music031b.png" width="553" height="292" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span>F Sorrow the Tyrant invade thy Breast,<br />
+Haul out the foul Fiend by the Lug, the Lug,<br />
+Let nought of to morrow disturb thy Rest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But dash out his Brains with a Mug, a Mug.</span><br />
+If Business unluckily goes not well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let the fond Fools their Affections hug,</span><br />
+To shew our Allegiance we&#8217;ll go to the Bell,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.</span><br />
+<br />
+If thy Wife proves not one of the Best, the Best,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But admits no time but to think, to think;</span><br />
+Or the weight of thy Forehead bow down thy Crest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Divert the dull <i>Damon</i> with Drink, with Drink,</span><br />
+If Miss prove peevish and will not gee,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ne&#8217;er pine, ne&#8217;er pine at the wanton Pug,</span><br />
+But find out a fairer, a kinder than she,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And banish Dispair in a Mug, a Mug.</span><br />
+<br />
+If dear Assignation be crost, be crost,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Mistress go home in a rage, a rage;</span><br />
+Let not thy poor Heart like a Ship be tost,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But with a brisk Brimmer engage, engage:</span><br />
+What if the fine Fop and the Mask fall out.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the one Hug, and t&#8217;other Tug,</span><br />
+While they pish and fie, we will frolick in Stout,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And banish all Care in a Mug, a Mug.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span>If toying young <i>Damon</i> by <i>Sylvia&#8217;s</i> Charms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At length should look pale and perplexed be;</span><br />
+To cure the Distemper and ease those harms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go straight to the <i>Globe</i> and ask Number three:</span><br />
+There beauties like <i>Venus</i> thou canst not lack,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be kind to them, they will sweetly hug;</span><br />
+There&#8217;s choice of the Fairest, the Brown or the Black.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.</span><br />
+<br />
+Let then no Misfortune e&#8217;er make thee dull,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But drink away care in a Jug, a Jug;</span><br />
+Then let not thy Tide steal away, but pull,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Carouse away though in a Mug, a Mug:</span><br />
+While others for Greatness and Fortune&#8217;s doom,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While they for their Ambition tug;</span><br />
+We&#8217;ll sit close and snug in a Sea-coal Room,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.</span><br />
+<br />
+Let Zealots o&#8217;er Coffee new Plots devise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lace with fresh Treason the Pagan Drug;</span><br />
+Whilst our Loyal Blood flows our Veins shall shine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like our Faces inspir&#8217;d with a Mug, a Mug:</span><br />
+Let Sectaries dream of Alarms, Alarms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Fools still for new changes tug;</span><br />
+While fam&#8217;d for our Loyalty we&#8217;ll stand to our Arms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drink the King&#8217;s Health in a Mug, a Mug.</span><br />
+<br />
+Come then to the Queen let the next Advance,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all Loyal Lads of true <i>English</i> Race;</span><br />
+Who hate the stum Poison of <i>Spain</i> and <i>France</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or to <i>Bourdeux</i> or <i>Burgundy</i> do give place;</span><br />
+The Flask and the Bottle breeds Ach and Gout,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whilst we, we all the Season lie snug;</span><br />
+Neither <i>Spaniard</i> nor <i>Flemming</i>, can vie with our Stout,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shall submit to the Mug, the Mug.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco001.png" width="217" height="53" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Good Fellow. Words by Mr.</i><br />
+Alex. Brome.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music032.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music032.png" width="557" height="470" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><span class="dropcap2">S</span>Tay, stay, shut the Gates,</span><br />
+T&#8217;other Quart, faith, it is not so late<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">As you&#8217;re thinking,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Those Stars which you see,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In this Hemisphere be,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the Studs in your Cheeks by your Drinking:</span><br />
+The Sun is gone to Tiple all Night in the Sea Boys,<br />
+To Morrow he&#8217;ll blush that he&#8217;s paler than we Boys,<br />
+Drink Wine, give him Water, &#8217;tis Sack makes us jee Boys.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fill, fill up the Glass,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To the next merry Lad let it pass,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Come away with&#8217;t:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come Set Foot to Foot,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And but give our Minds to&#8217;t,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis Heretical Six that doth slay Wit,</span><br />
+No Helicon like to the Juice of the Vine is,<br />
+For <i>Ph&#339;bus</i> had never had Wit, nor Diviness,<br />
+Had his Face been bow dy&#8217;d as thine, his, and mine is.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Drink, drink off your Bowls,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We&#8217;ll enrich both our Heads and our Souls</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">With Canary;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A Carbuncled Face,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Saves a tedious Race,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the <i>Indies</i> about us we carry:</span><br />
+Then hang up good Faces, we&#8217;ll drink till our Noses<br />
+Give freedom to speak what our Fancy disposes,<br />
+Beneath whose protection is under the Roses.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This, this must go round,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Off your Hats, till that the Pavement be Crown&#8217;d</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">With your Beavers;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A Red-coated Face,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Frights a Searjeant at Mace,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Constable trembles to shivers:</span><br />
+In state march our Faces like those of the <i>Quorum</i>,<br />
+When the Wenches fall down and the Vulgar adore&#8217;em,<br />
+And our Noses, like Link-boys, run shining before&#8217;em.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line011.png" width="533" height="38" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The Nymphs Holiday. The Tune of the<br />
+Nightingale.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music033.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/music033a.png" width="554" height="175" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/music033b.png" width="556" height="322" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">U</span>Pon a Holiday, when Nymphs had leave to play,<br />
+I walk&#8217;d unseen, on a pleasant Green,<br />
+Where I heard a Maid in an angry Spleen,<br />
+Complaining to a Swain, to leave his drudging Pain,<br />
+And sport with her upon the Plain;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But he the silly Clown,</span><br />
+Regardless of her Moan, did leave her all alone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still she cry&#8217;d, come away, come away bonny Lad come away,</span><br />
+I cannot come, I will not come, I cannot come, my<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Work&#8217;s not done,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was all the Words this Clown did say.</span><br />
+<br />
+She vex&#8217;d in her Mind to hear this Lad&#8217;s reply,<br />
+To <i>Venus</i> she went, in great Discontent,<br />
+To desire her Boy with his Bow ready bent,<br />
+To take a nimble Dart, and strike him to the Heart,<br />
+For disobeying her Commandment:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Cupid</i> then gave the Swain such a Bang,</span><br />
+As made him to gang with this bonny Lass along,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still she cry&#8217;d, come away, come away bonny Lad, come hither,</span><br />
+I come, I come, I come, I come, I come, I come,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So they gang&#8217;d along together.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>Good Honest Trooper take warning by</i> <span class="smcap">Donald Cooper</span>. <i>To the Tune of</i>
+Daniel Cooper.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music034.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music034.png" width="554" height="442" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span> Bonny Lad came to the Court,<br />
+His Name was <i>Donald Cooper</i>,<br />
+And he Petition&#8217;d to the King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he might be a Trooper:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He said that he,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By Land and Sea,</span><br />
+Had fought to Admiration,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And with <i>Montross</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Had many blows,</span><br />
+Both for his King and Nation.<br />
+<br />
+The King did his Petition grant,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And said he lik&#8217;d him dearly,</span><br />
+Which gave to <i>Donald</i> more content,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than Twenty Shillings yearly:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">This wily Leard</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rode in the Guard,</span><br />
+And lov&#8217;d a strong Beer Barrel;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yet stout enough,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To Fight and Cuff,</span><br />
+But was not given to Quarrel.<br />
+<br />
+Till on a <i>Saturday</i> at Night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He walked in the Park, Sir;</span><br />
+And there he kenn&#8217;d a well fair Lass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When it was almost dark, Sir;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Poor <i>Donald</i> he</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Drew near to see,</span><br />
+And kist her bonny Mow, Sir;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He laid her flat</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Upon her back,</span><br />
+And bang&#8217;d her side Weam too, Sir.<br />
+<br />
+He took her by the Lilly white Hand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And kiss&#8217;d his bonny <i>Mary</i>,</span><br />
+Then they did to the Tavern go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where they did drink Canary;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When he was Drunk,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In came a Punck,</span><br />
+And ask&#8217;d gan he would Mow her;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then he again,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With Might and Main,</span><br />
+Did bravely lay her o&#8217;er, Sir.<br />
+<br />
+Poor <i>Donald</i> he rose up again,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As nothing did him ail, Sir;</span><br />
+But little kenn&#8217;d this bonny Lass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had Fire about her Tail, Sir:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When Night was spent</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then Home he went,</span><br />
+And told it with a Hark, Sir;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">How he did Kiss</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A dainty Miss,</span><br />
+And lifted up the Sark, Sir.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span>But e&#8217;er a Month had gone about,<br />
+Poor <i>Donald</i> walked sadly:<br />
+And every yean enquir&#8217;d of him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What gar&#8217;d him leuk so badly:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Wench, quoth he,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Gave Snuff to me,</span><br />
+Out of her Placket box, Sir;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And I am sure,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">She prov&#8217;d a Whore,</span><br />
+And given to me the Pox, Sir.<br />
+<br />
+Poor <i>Donald</i> he being almost Dead,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was turn&#8217;d out of the Guard, Sir;</span><br />
+And never could get in again,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although he was a Leard, Sir:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When <i>Mars</i> doth meet,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With <i>Venus</i> sweet,</span><br />
+And struggles to surrender;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The Triumph&#8217;s lost,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then never trust</span><br />
+A Feminine Commander.<br />
+<br />
+Poor <i>Donald</i> he went home again,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because he lost his Place, Sir;</span><br />
+For playing of a Game at Whisk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And turning up an Ace, Sir;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ye Soldiers all,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Both great and small,</span><br />
+A Foot-man or a Trooper;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When you behold,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Wench that&#8217;s bold</span><br />
+Remember <i>Donald Cooper</i>.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco001.png" width="217" height="53" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Jovial Drinker.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music035.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music035.png" width="555" height="337" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span> Pox on those Fools, who exclaim against Wine,<br />
+And fly the dear sweets that the Bottle doth bring;<br />
+It heightens the Fancy, the Wit does refine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he that was first Drunk was made the first King.</span><br />
+<br />
+By the help of good Claret old Age becomes Youth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sick Men still find this the only Physitian;</span><br />
+Drink largely, you&#8217;ll know by experience, the Truth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he that drinks most is the best Politician.</span><br />
+<br />
+To Victory this leads on the brave Cavalier,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And makes all the Terrors of War, but Delight;</span><br />
+This flushes his Courage, and beats off base Fear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Twas that taught <i>C&aelig;sar</i> and <i>Pompey</i> to fight.</span><br />
+<br />
+This supports all our Friends, and knocks down our Foes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This makes us all Loyal Men from Courtier to Clown;</span><br />
+Like <i>Dutchmen</i> from Brandy, from this our Strength grows<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So &#8217;tis Wine, noble Wine, that&#8217;s a Friend to the Crown.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Sexton&#8217;s</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hanglg"><i>Sung by</i> <span class="smcap">Ben. Johnson</span>, <i>in the Play of</i> Hamlet <i>Prince of</i> Denmark,
+<i>acting the</i> <i>Grave maker.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music036.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music036.png" width="557" height="343" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">O</span>Nce more to these Arms my lov&#8217;d Pick-ax and Spade,<br />
+With the rest of the Tools that belong to my Trade;<br />
+I that Buried others am rose from the Dead,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring, a Ring, Ring, a Ring, and Dig a Dig, Dig.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+My Thoughts are grown easie, my Mind is at rest,<br />
+Since Things at the worst are now grown to the best,<br />
+And I and the Worms that long fasted shall Feast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+How I long to be Measuring and cleaving the Ground,<br />
+And commending the Soil for the Sculls shall be found,<br />
+Whose thickness alone, not the Soil makes them sound,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span>Look you Masters, I&#8217;ll cry, may the Saints ne&#8217;er me save,<br />
+If this ben&#8217;t as well contriv&#8217;d sort of a Grave,<br />
+As a Man could wish on such occasion to have,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Observe but the make of&#8217;t, I&#8217;ll by you be try&#8217;d,<br />
+And the Coffin so fresh there that lies on that side,<br />
+It&#8217;s Fifty Years since he that owns it has dy&#8217;d.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+I hope to remember your Friend in a Bowl,<br />
+An honest good Gentleman, God rest his Soul,<br />
+He has that for a Ducket is worth a Pistole,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+At Marriages next I&#8217;ll affirm it and swear,<br />
+If the Bride would be private so great was my Care,<br />
+That not a Soul knew that the Priest joyn&#8217;d the Pair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+When I myself whisper&#8217;d and told it about<br />
+What Door they&#8217;d go in at, what Door they&#8217;d go out,<br />
+To receive the Salutes of the Rabble and Rout,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+At Chris&#8217;nings I&#8217;ll sit with abundance of Joy,<br />
+And Drink to the Health of the Girl or the Boy,<br />
+At the same I wish that Fate both would destroy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>That I may Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+What e&#8217;er&#8217;s my Religion, my Meaning&#8217;s to Thrive,<br />
+So the Child that is born, to the Font but survive,<br />
+No matter how short it&#8217;s continuance alive,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>That I may Ring</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hear then my good Neighbours attend to my cry,<br />
+And bravely get Children, and decently die,<br />
+No Sexton now breathing shall use you as I,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a Ring a Ring, Ring a Ring, Dig a Dig, Dig.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Great</i> BOOBEE.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music037.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music037.png" width="552" height="318" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">M</span>Y Friend if you would understand,<br />
+My Fortunes what they are;<br />
+I once had Cattle House and Land,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But now I am never the near:</span><br />
+My Father left a good Estate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I may tell to thee;</span><br />
+I couzened was of all I had,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+I went to School with a good intent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for to learn my Book;</span><br />
+And all the Day I went to play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In it I never did look:</span><br />
+Full seven Years, or very nigh,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I may tell to thee;</span><br />
+I could hardly say my Criss-Cross-Row,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+My Father then in all the hast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did set me to the Plow;</span><br />
+And for to lash the Horse about,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Indeed I knew not how:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span>My Father took his Whip in Hand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soundly lashed me;</span><br />
+He called me Fool and Country Clown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+But I did from my Father run,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I would Plow no more;</span><br />
+Because he had so lashed me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And made my sides so sore:</span><br />
+But I will go to <i>London</i> Town,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some Fashions for to see;</span><br />
+When I came there they call&#8217;d me Clown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+But as I went along the Street,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I carried my Hat in my Hand,</span><br />
+And to every one that I did meet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I bravely Buss&#8217;d my Hand:</span><br />
+Some did laugh, and some did scoff,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And some did mock at me;</span><br />
+And some did say I was a Woodcock,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then I did walk in hast to <i>Paul&#8217;s</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Steeple for to view;</span><br />
+Because I heard some People say,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It should be builded new;</span><br />
+Then I got up unto the Top,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The City for to see;</span><br />
+It was so high it made me cry,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+From thence I went to <i>Westminster</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for to see the Tombs:</span><br />
+Oh, said I, what a House is here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With an infinite sight of Rooms:</span><br />
+Sweetly the Abby Bells did Ring,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was a fine sight to see;</span><br />
+Methought I was going to Heav&#8217;n in a String,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span>But as I went along the Street,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The most part of the Day;</span><br />
+Many Gallants I did meet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Methought they were very gay:</span><br />
+I blew my Nose and pist my Hose,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some People did me see:</span><br />
+They said I was a Beastly Fool:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Next Day I thro&#8217; <i>Pye-corner</i> past,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Roast-meat on the Stall;</span><br />
+Invited me to take a Taste,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Money was but small:</span><br />
+The Meat I pickt, the Cook me kickt,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I may tell to thee;</span><br />
+He beat me sore and made me roar,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+As I thro&#8217; <i>Smithfield</i> lately walkt,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A gallant Lass I met:</span><br />
+Familiarly with me she talk&#8217;t,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which I cannot forget:</span><br />
+She proferr&#8217;d me a Pint of Wine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Methought she was wondrous free,</span><br />
+To the Tavern then I went with her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+She told me we were near of Kin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And call&#8217;d for Wine good store;</span><br />
+Before the Reckoning was brought in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Cousin prov&#8217;d a Whore:</span><br />
+My Purse she pickt, and went away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Cousin couzened me,</span><br />
+The Vintner kickt me out of Door;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+At the <i>Exchange</i> when I came there,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I saw most gallant things;</span><br />
+I thought the Pictures living were,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of all our English Kings:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span>I doft my Hat and made a Leg,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And kneeled on my Knee;</span><br />
+The People laugh&#8217;d and call&#8217;d me Fool,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+To <i>Paris-Garden</i> then I went,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where there is great resort;</span><br />
+My Pleasure was my Punishment,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I did not like the Sport:</span><br />
+The Garden-Bull with his stout Horns,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On high then tossed me;</span><br />
+I did bewray my self with fear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Bearward went to save me then,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The People flock&#8217;d about;</span><br />
+I told the Bear-Garden-Men,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Guts they were almost out:</span><br />
+They said I stunk most grievously,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Man would pity me;</span><br />
+They call&#8217;d me witless Fool and Ass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then o&#8217;er the water I did pass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you shall understand;</span><br />
+I dropt into the Thames, alass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before I came to Land:</span><br />
+The Waterman did help me out,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thus did say to me;</span><br />
+&#8217;Tis not thy fortune to be drown&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Like a great Boobee</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+But I have learned so much Wit,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall shorten all my Cares;</span><br />
+If I can but a Licence get,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To play before the Bears:</span><br />
+&#8217;Twould be a gallant Place indeed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I may tell to thee:</span><br />
+Then who dares call me Fool or Ass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Or great Boobee</i>.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>Set by Mr.</i> Jeremiah Clark,<br />
+<br />
+<i>Sung by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Leveridge</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music038.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music038.png" width="557" height="797" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Hen Maids live to Thirty, yet never repented,<br />
+When <i>Europe&#8217;s</i> at Peace and all <i>England</i> contented,<br />
+When Gamesters won&#8217;t Swear, and no bribery thrives,<br />
+Young Wives love old Husbands, young Husbands old Wives;<br />
+When Landlords love Taxes, and Soldiers love Peace:<br />
+And Lawyers forget a rich Client to Fleece:<br />
+When an old Face shall please as well as a new,<br />
+Wives, Husbands, and Lovers will ever be true.<br />
+<br />
+When Bullies leave huffing and Cowards their Trembling,<br />
+And Courtiers and Women and Priests their Dissembling,<br />
+When these shall do nothing against what they teach,<br />
+Pluralities hate, and we mind what they Preach:<br />
+When Vintners leave Brewing to draw the Wine pure,<br />
+And Quacks by their Medicines kill less than they Cure,<br />
+When an old Face shall please as well as a new,<br />
+Wives, Husbands and Lovers will ever be true.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line012.png" width="427" height="158" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>Words to a Tune of</i> Mr. <span class="smcap">Barret&#8217;s</span>, <i>call&#8217;d<br />
+the</i> <span class="smcap">Catherine</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music039.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music039.png" width="556" height="837" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span>N the pleasant Month of <i>May</i>,<br />
+When the merry, merry Birds began to sing;<br />
+And the Blossoms fresh and gay;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Usher&#8217;d in the welcome Spring,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When the long cold Winter&#8217;s gone,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the bright enticing Moon,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In the Evening sweetly shon:</span><br />
+When the bonny Men and Maids tript it on the Grass;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">At a jolly Country Fair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When the Nymphs in the best appear;</span><br />
+We resolv&#8217;d to be free, with a Fiddle and a She,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E&#8217;ery Shepherd and his Lass.</span><br />
+<br />
+In the middle of the Sport,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the Fiddle went brisk and the Glass went round,</span><br />
+And the Pretty gay Nymphs for Court,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With their Merry Feet beat the Ground;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Little <i>Cupid</i> arm&#8217;d unseen,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With a Bow and Dart stole in,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With a conquering Air and Mien,</span><br />
+And empty&#8217;d his Bow thro&#8217; the Nymphs and the Swains;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">E&#8217;ery Shepherd and his Mate,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Soon felt their pleasing Fate,</span><br />
+And longing to try in Enjoyment to die,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Love reign&#8217;d o&#8217;er all the Plains.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now the sighing Swain gave o&#8217;er,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the wearied Nymphs could dance no more,</span><br />
+There were other Thoughts that mov&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E&#8217;ery pretty kind Pair that Lov&#8217;d:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In the Woods the Shepherds lay,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And mourn&#8217;d the time away,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the Nymphs as well as they,</span><br />
+Long&#8217;d to taste what it is that their Senses cloys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Till at last by consent of Eyes,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">E&#8217;ery Swain with his pretty Nymph flies,</span><br />
+E&#8217;ery Buxom She retires with her He,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To act Love&#8217;s solid Joys.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> Scotch <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Lucas</span> <i>at<br />
+the Old</i> <span class="smcap">Theatre</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music040.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music040a.png" width="562" height="830" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music040b.png" width="555" height="219" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">B</span>Y Moon-light on the Green,<br />
+Our bonny Lasses Cooing;<br />
+And dancing there I&#8217;ve seen,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who seem&#8217;d alone worth Wooing:</span><br />
+Her Skin like driven Snow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Hair brown as a Berry:</span><br />
+Her Eyes black as a Slow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Lips red as a Cherry.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh how she tript it, skipt it,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Leapt it, stept it, whiskt it,</span><br />
+Friskt it, whirld it, twirl&#8217;d it,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Swimming, springing, starting:</span><br />
+So quick, the tune to nick,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a heave and a toss:</span><br />
+And a jerk at parting,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a heave, and a toss, and a jerk at parting.</span><br />
+<br />
+As she sat down I bowed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And veil&#8217;d my bonnet to her;</span><br />
+Then took her from the Crowd,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Honey words to woo her;</span><br />
+Sweet blithest Lass, quoth I,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It being bleaky Weather:</span><br />
+I prithee let us try,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Another Dance together;</span><br />
+<i>Oh how she</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span>Whilst suing thus I stood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quoth she, pray leave your fooling;</span><br />
+Some Dancing heats the Blood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But yours I fear lacks cooling:</span><br />
+Still for a Dance I pray&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And we at last had Seven;</span><br />
+And whilst the Fiddle play&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She thought her self in Heaven,</span><br />
+<i>Oh how she</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+At last she with a Smile,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Dance again desir&#8217;d me;</span><br />
+Quoth I, pray stay a while,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For now good faith ye&#8217;ve tir&#8217;d me:</span><br />
+With that she look&#8217;d on me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sigh&#8217;d with muckle sorrow;</span><br />
+Than gang ye&#8217;ar gate, quoth she,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Dance again to morrow.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco012.png" width="316" height="129" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Quaker&#8217;s Song</span>. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> Willis<br />
+<i>at the New Play-House.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music041.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music041.png" width="556" height="584" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>Mongst the pure ones all,<br />
+Which Conscience doth profess;<br />
+And yet that sort of Conscience,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doth practice nothing less:</span><br />
+I mean the Sect of those Elect,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That loath to live by Merit;</span><br />
+That leads their Lives with other Mens Wives,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">According unto the Spirit.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span>One met with a Holy Sister of ours,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Saint who dearly lov&#8217;d him:</span><br />
+And fain he would have kiss&#8217;d her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because the Spirit mov&#8217;d him:</span><br />
+But she deny&#8217;d, and he reply&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You&#8217;re damn&#8217;d unless you do it;</span><br />
+Therefore consent, do not repent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the Spirit doth move me to it.</span><br />
+<br />
+She not willing to offend, poor Soul,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yielded unto his Motion;</span><br />
+And what these two did intend,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was out of pure Devotion:</span><br />
+To lye with a Friend and a Brother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She thought she shou&#8217;d die no Sinner,</span><br />
+But e&#8217;er five Months were past,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Spirit was quick within her.</span><br />
+<br />
+But what will the Wicked say,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When they shall here of this Rumour;</span><br />
+They&#8217;d laugh at us every Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Scoff us in every Corner:</span><br />
+Let &#8217;em do so still if that they will,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We mean not to follow their Fashion,</span><br />
+They&#8217;re none of our Sect, nor of our Elect,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor none of our Congregation.</span><br />
+<br />
+But when the time was come,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That she was to be laid;</span><br />
+It was no very great Crime,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Committed by her they said:</span><br />
+&#8217;Cause they did know, and she did show,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Twas done by a Friend and a Brother,</span><br />
+But a very great Sin they said it had been,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If it had been done by another.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco011.png" width="62" height="64" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music042.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music042.png" width="559" height="638" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>S Oyster <i>Nan</i> stood by her Tub,<br />
+To shew her vicious Inclination;<br />
+She gave her noblest Parts a Scrub,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sigh&#8217;d for want of Copulation:</span><br />
+A Vintner of no little Fame,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who excellent Red and White can sell ye,</span><br />
+Beheld the little dirty Dame,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As she stood scratching of her Belly.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span>Come in, says he, you silly Slut,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis now a rare convenient Minute;</span><br />
+I&#8217;ll lay the Itching of your Scut,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Except some greedy Devil be in it:</span><br />
+With that the Flat-capt Fusby smil&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And would have blush&#8217;d, but that she cou&#8217;d not;</span><br />
+Alass! says she, we&#8217;re soon beguil&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Men to do those things we shou&#8217;d not.</span><br />
+<br />
+From Door they went behind the Bar,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As it&#8217;s by common Fame reported;</span><br />
+And there upon a Turkey Chair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unseen the loving Couple sported:</span><br />
+But being call&#8217;d by Company,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he was taking pains to please her;</span><br />
+I&#8217;m coming, coming Sir, says he,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Dear, and so am I, says she, Sir.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her Mole-hill Belly swell&#8217;d about,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into a Mountain quickly after;</span><br />
+And when the pretty Mouse crept out,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Creature caus&#8217;d a mighty Laughter:</span><br />
+And now she has learnt the pleasing Game,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altho&#8217; much Pain and Shame it cost her;</span><br />
+She daily ventures at the same,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shuts and opens like an Oyster.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line013.png" width="554" height="37" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Irish</span> <i>Jigg: Or, the Night Ramble.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music043.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music043a.png" width="551" height="187" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music043b.png" width="554" height="83" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">O</span>NE Night in my Ramble I chanc&#8217;d to see,<br />
+A thing like a Spirit, it frightened me;<br />
+I cock&#8217;d up my Hat and resolv&#8217;d to look big,<br />
+And streight fell a Tuning the <i>Irish Jigg</i>.<br />
+<br />
+The Devil drew nearer and nearer in short,<br />
+I found it was one of the Petticoat sort;<br />
+My Fears being over, I car&#8217;d not a Fig,<br />
+But still I kept tuning the <i>Irish Jigg</i>.<br />
+<br />
+And then I went to her, resolving to try her;<br />
+I put her agog of a longing desire;<br />
+I told her I&#8217;d give her a Whip for her Gig,<br />
+And a Scourge to the Tune of the <i>Irish Jigg</i>.<br />
+<br />
+Then nothing but Dancing our Fancy could please,<br />
+We lay on the Grass and Danc&#8217;d at our ease;<br />
+I down&#8217;d with my Breeches and off with my Whigg,<br />
+And we fell a Dancing the <i>Irish Jigg</i>.<br />
+<br />
+I thank you, kind Sir, for your kindness, said she,<br />
+The Scholar&#8217;s as Wise as the Master can be;<br />
+For if you should chance to get me with Kid,<br />
+I&#8217;ll lay the poor Brat to the <i>Irish Jigg</i>.<br />
+<br />
+The Dance being ended as you may see,<br />
+We rose by Consent and we both went away;<br />
+I put on my Cloaths and left her to grow big,<br />
+And so I went Roaring the <i>Irish Jigg</i>.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco013.png" width="216" height="62" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music044.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music044.png" width="554" height="465" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span>T was a happy Golden Day,<br />
+When fair <i>Althea</i> Kind and Gay,<br />
+Put all but Love and me away;<br />
+I arm&#8217;d with soft Words did Address,<br />
+Sweet and kind Kisses far express,<br />
+A greater Joy and Happiness.<br />
+<br />
+Nature the best Instructeress cry&#8217;d,<br />
+Her Ivory Pillows to divide,<br />
+That Love might Sail with Wind and Tide;<br />
+She rais&#8217;d the Mast and sail&#8217;d by it,<br />
+That Day two Tides together met,<br />
+Drove him on Shore soon dropping wet.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music045.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music045.png" width="554" height="580" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>H! <i>C&aelig;lia</i> how can you be Cruel and Fair?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Since removing,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The Charms that are loving,</span><br />
+&#8217;Twould make a poor Lover Despair;<br />
+&#8217;Tis true, I have lov&#8217;d you these seven long Years &amp; more,<br />
+Too long for a Man that ne&#8217;er was in Love before:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And if longer you my Caresses deny,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I then am resolv&#8217;d to give over my Flames and die.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span>Love fires the Heart of him that is Brave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Charms the Spirit</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Of him that is merit,</span><br />
+And makes the poor Lover a Slave;<br />
+Dull sordid Souls that never knew how to Love,<br />
+Where Nature is plung&#8217;d, &#8217;tis a shame to the best above:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And if any longer you my Caresses deny,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I then am resolv&#8217;d to give over my Flames and die.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line014.png" width="521" height="39" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music046.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music046.png" width="551" height="418" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HERE was a Knight and he was Young,<br />
+A riding along the way, Sir;<br />
+And there he met a Lady fair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Among the Cocks of Hay, Sir:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span>Quoth he, shall you and I Lady,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Among the Grass lye down a;</span><br />
+And I will have a special Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of rumpling of your Gown a.</span><br />
+<br />
+If you will go along with me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto my Father&#8217;s Hall, Sir;</span><br />
+You shall enjoy my Maiden-head,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And my Estate and all, Sir:</span><br />
+So he mounted her on a milk-white Steed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Himself upon another;</span><br />
+And then they rid upon the Road,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like Sister and like Brother.</span><br />
+<br />
+And when she came to her Father&#8217;s House,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which was moated round about, Sir;</span><br />
+She stepped streight within the Gate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shut this Young Knight out, Sir,</span><br />
+Here is a Purse of Gold, she said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take it for your Pains, Sir;</span><br />
+And I will send my Father&#8217;s Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To go home with you again, Sir.</span><br />
+<br />
+And if you meet a Lady fair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you go thro&#8217; the next Town, Sir;</span><br />
+You must not fear the Dew of the Grass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor the rumpling of her Gown, Sir:</span><br />
+And if you meet a Lady Gay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you go by the Hill, Sir;</span><br />
+If you will not when you may,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You shall not when you will, Sir.</span><br />
+<br />
+There is a Dew upon the Grass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will spoil your Damask Gown a;</span><br />
+Which has cost your Father dear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Many Shilling and a Crown a:</span><br />
+There is a Wind blows from the <i>West</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soon will dry the Ground a;</span><br />
+And I will have a special Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the rumpling of my Gown a.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music047.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music047.png" width="548" height="415" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">S</span>Laves to <i>London</i> I&#8217;ll deceive you,<br />
+For the Country now I leave you:<br />
+Who can bear, and not be Mad,<br />
+Wine so dear, and yet so bad:<br />
+Such a Noise and Air so smoaky,<br />
+That to stun, this to choak ye;<br />
+Men so selfish, false and rude,<br />
+Nymphs so young and yet so lew&#8217;d.<br />
+<br />
+Quiet harmless Country Pleasure,<br />
+Shall at home engross my Leisure;<br />
+Farewel <i>London</i>, I&#8217;ll repair,<br />
+To my Native Country Air:<br />
+I leave all thy Pleasures behind me,<br />
+But at home my Wife will find me;<br />
+Oh the Gods! &#8217;tis ten times worse,<br />
+<i>London</i> is a milder Curse.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Duke of</i><span class="gespn">&nbsp;ORMOND&#8217;S</span> <i>March.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Church</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music048.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music048.png" width="551" height="316" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="dropcap2">Y</span>E brave Boys and Tars,</span><br />
+That design for the Wars,<br />
+Remember the Action at <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And where ORMOND Commands,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Let us all joyn our Hands,</span><br />
+<i>And where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Let Conquest and Fame,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The Honour proclaim,</span><br />
+Great ORMOND has gotten at <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Let the Trumpets now sound,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the Ecchoes around,</span><br />
+<i>Where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Let the Glories be Sung,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Which the ORMONDS have won,</span><br />
+Long before this great Action at <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">They&#8217;re so Loyal and Just,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And so true to their Trust,</span><br />
+<i>That where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Old Records of Fame,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of the ORMONDS great Name,</span><br />
+Their Actions, like these were of <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And since this Prince exceeds,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In his Fore-Father&#8217;s Deeds,</span><br />
+<i>Then where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">&#8217;Tis the Praise of our Crown,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That such Men of Renown,</span><br />
+Shou&#8217;d lead on the Van, as at <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Where such Lives and Estates</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Are expos&#8217;d for our sakes,</span><br />
+<i>Then where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">&#8217;Twas the whole Nation&#8217;s Voice,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And we all did rejoyce,</span><br />
+When we heard he Commanded for <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To ANNA so True,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">All her Foes to pursue,</span><br />
+<i>Then where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">&#8217;Tis the Voice of the Town,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And our Zeal for the Crown,</span><br />
+To serve ORMOND to <i>France</i>, <i>Spain</i>, or <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">So Noble and brave,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Both to Conquer and save,</span><br />
+<i>Then where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To the Soldiers so kind,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And so humbly inclin&#8217;d,</span><br />
+To wave his Applause gain&#8217;d at <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yet so kind and so true,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He gave all Men their due,</span><br />
+<i>Then where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">We justly do own,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">All the Honour that&#8217;s won,</span><br />
+In <i>Flanders</i>, as well as at <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">But our Subject and Theme,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is of ORMOND&#8217;s great Name,</span><br />
+<i>And where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Then take off the Bowl,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To that Generous Soul,</span><br />
+That Commanded so bravely at <i>Vigo</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And may ANNA approve,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of our Duty and Love,</span><br />
+<i>And where he goes, may you go, and I go</i>.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line007.png" width="555" height="33" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A Cure for Melancholy.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music049.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music049.png" width="550" height="454" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>RE you grown so Melancholy,<br />
+That you think on nought but Folly;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Are you sad,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Are you Mad,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Are you worse;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Do you think,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Want of Chink</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is a Curse:</span><br />
+Do you wish for to have,<br />
+Longer Life, or a Grave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thus would I Cure ye</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+First I would have a Bag of Gold,<br />
+That should ten Thousand Pieces hold,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And all that,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">In thy Hat,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Would I pour;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">For to spend,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">On thy Friend,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Or thy Whore:</span><br />
+For to cast away at Dice,<br />
+Or to shift you of your Lice,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thus would I Cure ye</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Next I would have a soft Bed made,<br />
+Wherein a Virgin should be laid;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">That would Play,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Any way</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">You&#8217;ll devise;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">That would stick</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Like a Tick,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To your Thighs,</span><br />
+That would bill like a Dove,<br />
+Lye beneath or above,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thus would I Cure ye</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Next that same Bowl, where <i>Jove</i> Divine,<br />
+Drank <i>Nectar</i> in, I&#8217;d fill with Wine;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">That whereas,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">You should pause,</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">You should quaff;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Like a <i>Greek</i>,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Till your Cheek,</span><br />
+To <i>Ceres</i> and to <i>Venus</i>,<br />
+To <i>Bacchus</i> and <i>Silenus</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thus would I Cure ye</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Last of all there should appear,<br />
+Seven Eunuchs sphere-like Singing here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">In the Praise,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Of those Ways,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of delights;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>Venus</i> can,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Use with Man,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In the Night;</span><br />
+When he strives to adorn,<br />
+<i>Vulcan&#8217;s</i> Head with a HORN,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thus would I Cure ye</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+But if not Gold, nor Woman can,<br />
+Nor Wine, nor Songs, make merry then;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Let the Batt,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Be thy Mate,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the Owl;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Let a Pain,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">In thy Brain,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Make thee Howl;</span><br />
+Let the Pox be thy Friend,<br />
+And the Plague work thy end,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thus I would Cure you</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco003.png" width="94" height="52" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>To his fairest</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>Mrs.</i> A.L.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music050.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music050.png" width="548" height="601" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span>OME pretty Birds present your Lays,<br />
+And learn to chaunt a Goddess Praise;<br />
+Ye Wood-Nymphs let your Voices be,<br />
+Employ&#8217;d to serve her Deity:<br />
+And warble forth, ye Virgins Nine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Some Musick to my</i> Valentine.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her Bosom is Loves Paradise,<br />
+There is no Heav&#8217;n but in her Eyes;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span>She&#8217;s chaster than the Turtle-Dove,<br />
+And fairer than the Queen of Love;<br />
+Yea, all Perfections do combine,<br />
+To beautifie my Valentine.<br />
+<br />
+She&#8217;s Nature&#8217;s choicest Cabinet,<br />
+Where Honour, Beauty, Worth and Wit,<br />
+Are all united in her Breast,<br />
+The Graces claim an Interest:<br />
+All Vertues that are most Divine,<br />
+Shine clearest in my Valentine.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line015.png" width="547" height="39" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Ballad</span>,<br />
+<br />
+<i>Or</i>, <span class="smcap">Collin&#8217;s</span> <i>Adventure.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music051.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music051.png" width="558" height="466" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>S <i>Collin</i> went from his Sheep to unfold,<br />
+In a Morning of <i>April</i>, as grey as &#8217;twas cold,<br />
+In a Thicket he heard a Voice it self spread;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which was, O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+He peep&#8217;d in the Bushes, and spy&#8217;d where there lay<br />
+His Mistress, whose Countenance made <i>April May</i>;<br />
+But in her looks some sadness was read,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Crying O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+He rush&#8217;d in to her, and cry&#8217;d what&#8217;s the matter,<br />
+Ah! <i>Collin</i>, quoth she, why will you come at her,<br />
+Who by the false Swain, hath often been misled,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For which O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+He turn&#8217;d her Milk-pail, and there down he sat,<br />
+His Hands stroak&#8217;d his Beard, on his Knee lay his Coat,<br />
+But, O, still <i>Mopsa</i> cry&#8217;d, before ought was said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Collin</i>, O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+No more, quoth stout <i>Collin</i>! I ever was true,<br />
+Thou gav&#8217;st me a Handkerchief all hemm&#8217;d with Blue:<br />
+A Pin-box I gave thee, and a Girdle so Red,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet still she cry&#8217;d, O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Delaying, quoth she, hath made me thus Ill,<br />
+For I never fear&#8217;d <i>Sarah</i> that dwelt at the Mill,<br />
+Since in the Ev&#8217;ning late her Hogs thou hast fed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For which, O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Collin</i> then chuck&#8217;d her under the Chin,<br />
+Cheer up for to love thee I never will lin,<br />
+Says she, I&#8217;ll believe it when the Parson has read,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&#8217;Till then, O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Uds boars, quoth <i>Collin</i>, I&#8217;ll new my shon,<br />
+And e&#8217;er the Week pass, by the Mass it shall be done:<br />
+You might have done this before, then she said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But now, O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span>He gave her a twitch that quite turn&#8217;d her round,<br />
+And said, I&#8217;m the truest that e&#8217;er trod on Ground,<br />
+Come settle thy Milk-Pail fast on thy Head,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No more O, O, <i>I am almost dead</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Why then I perceive thoul&#8217;t not leave me in the Lurch,<br />
+I&#8217;ll don my best Cloths and streight to the Church:<br />
+Jog on, merry <i>Collin</i>, jog on before,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For I Faith, I Faith, <i>I&#8217;ll dye no more</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line011.png" width="533" height="38" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> Town-Rakes, <i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>: <i>Set by Mr.</i><br />
+Daniel Purcell: <i>Sung by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Edwards</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music052.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music052a.png" width="552" height="506" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music052b.png" width="553" height="953" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Hat Life can compare with the jolly Town Rakes,<br />
+When in his full swing of all Pleasure he takes?<br />
+At Noon he gets up for a wet and to Dine,<br />
+And Wings the swift Hours with Mirth, Musick, and Wine,<br />
+Then jogs to the Play-house and chats with the Masques,<br />
+And thence to the <i>Rose</i> where he takes his three Flasks,<br />
+There great as a <i>C&aelig;sar</i> he revels when drunk,<br />
+And scours all he meets as he reels, as he reels to his Punk,<br />
+And finds the dear Girl in his Arms when he wakes,<br />
+What Life can compare to the jolly Town-Rakes, the Jolly Town-Rakes.<br />
+<br />
+He like the Great Turk has his favourite She,<br />
+But the Town&#8217;s his <i>Seraglio</i>, and still he lives free;<br />
+Sometimes she&#8217;s a Lady, but as he must range,<br />
+Black <i>Betty</i>, or Oyster <i>Moll</i> serve for a Change:<br />
+As he varies his Sports his whole Life is a Feast,<br />
+He thinks him that is soberest is most like a Beast:<br />
+All Houses of Pleasure, breaks Windows and Doors,<br />
+Kicks Bullies and Cullies, then lies with their Whores:<br />
+Rare work for the Surgeon and Midwife he makes,<br />
+What Life can Compare with the jolly Town-Rakes.<br />
+<br />
+Thus in <i>Covent-Garden</i> he makes his Campaigns,<br />
+And no Coffee-House haunts but to settle his Brains;<br />
+He laughs at dry Mortals, and never does think,<br />
+Unless &#8217;tis to get the best Wenches and Drink:<br />
+He dwells in a Tavern, and lives ev&#8217;ry where,<br />
+And improving his Hour, lives an age in a Year:<br />
+For as Life is uncertain, he loves to make haste,<br />
+And thus he lives longest because he lives fast:<br />
+Then leaps in the Dark, and his <i>Exit</i> he makes,<br />
+What Death can compare with the jolly Town-Rakes.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco014.png" width="192" height="64" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>: <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Clarke</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music053.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music053.png" width="551" height="436" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">Y</span>Oung <i>Coridon</i> and <i>Phillis</i><br />
+Sate in a lovely Grove;<br />
+Contriving Crowns of Lillies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Repeating Tales of Love:</span><br />
+<i>And something else, but what I dare not</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+But as they were a Playing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She oagled so the Swain;</span><br />
+It say&#8217;d her plainly saying,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let&#8217;s kiss to ease our Pain:</span><br />
+<i>And something else</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+A thousand times he kiss&#8217;d her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laying her on the Green;</span><br />
+But as he farther press&#8217;d her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her pretty Leg was seen:</span><br />
+<i>And something else</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span>So many Beauties removing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Ardour still increas&#8217;d;</span><br />
+And greater Joys pursuing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He wander&#8217;d o&#8217;er her Breast:</span><br />
+<i>And something else</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+A last Effort she trying,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Passion to withstand;</span><br />
+Cry&#8217;d, but it was faintly crying,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray take away your Hand:</span><br />
+<i>And something else</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Young <i>Coridon</i> grown bolder,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Minute would improve;</span><br />
+This is the Time he told her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To shew you how I love;</span><br />
+<i>And something else</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+The Nymph seem&#8217;d almost dying,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dissolv&#8217;d in amorous Heat;</span><br />
+She kiss&#8217;d, and told him sighing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Dear your Love is great:</span><br />
+<i>And something else</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+But <i>Phillis</i> did recover<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much sooner than the Swain;</span><br />
+She blushing ask&#8217;d her Lover,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall we not Kiss again:</span><br />
+<i>And something else</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Thus Love his Revels keeping,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Till Nature at a stand;</span><br />
+From talk they fell to Sleeping,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Holding each others Hand;</span><br />
+<i>And something else</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco006.png" width="208" height="77" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Amorous</i> <span class="smcap">Barber&#8217;s</span> <i>Passion of Love<br />
+for his Dear</i> <span class="smcap">Bridget</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music054.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music054.png" width="549" height="350" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Ith my Strings of small Wire lo I come,<br />
+And a Cittern made of Wood;<br />
+And a Song altho&#8217; you are Deaf and Dumb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May be heard and understood.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Dumb, dumb</i>&mdash;&mdash;</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh! take Pity on me, my Dear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Me thy Slave, and me thy Vassal,</span><br />
+And be not Cruel, as it were,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like to some strong and well built old Castle.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Dumb, dumb</i>&mdash;&mdash;</span><br />
+<br />
+Lest as thou passest along the Street,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Braver every Day and braver;</span><br />
+Every one that does thee meet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will say there goes a Woman-shaver.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Dumb, dumb</i>&mdash;&mdash;</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span>And again will think fit,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And to say they will determine;</span><br />
+There goes she that with Tongue killed Clip-Chops,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As a Man with his Thumbs kill Vermine.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Dumb, dumb</i>&mdash;&mdash;</span><br />
+<br />
+For if thou dost then, farewel Pelf,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Farewel <i>Bridget</i>, for I vow I&#8217;ll:</span><br />
+Either in my Bason hang my self,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or drown me in my Towel,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Dumb, dumb</i>&mdash;&mdash;</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line016.png" width="550" height="49" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Ballad</span>, <i>made by a Gentleman in</i> Ireland, <i>who could not have
+Access to a Lady whom he went to visit, because the Maid the Night
+before had over-laid her pretty Bitch. To the Tune of</i>, O Hone, O
+Hone.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music055.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music055.png" width="557" height="361" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">O</span>H! let no Eyes be dry,<br />
+<i>Oh Hone, Oh Hone</i>,<br />
+But let&#8217;s lament and cry,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone, O Hone</i>,</span><br />
+We&#8217;re quite undone almost,<br />
+For <i>Daphne</i> on this Coast,<br />
+Has yielded up the Ghost,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone, O Hone</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Daphne</i> my dearest Bitch,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone, O Hone</i>,</span><br />
+Who did all Dogs bewitch,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+Was by a careless Maid,<br />
+Pox take her for a Jade,<br />
+In the Night over-laid,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh may she never more<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+Sleep quietly, but snore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+May never Irish Lad,<br />
+Sue for her Maiden-head,<br />
+Until it stinks I Gad,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh may she never keep<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone, Oh Hone</i>;</span><br />
+Her Water in her Sleep,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone, Oh Hone</i>:</span><br />
+May never Pence nor Pounds,<br />
+Come more within the Bounds,<br />
+Of her Pocket Ad-sounds,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oh Hone, Oh Hone</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco015.png" width="37" height="40" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Damon</span> <i>forsaken. Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Wroth</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music056.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music056.png" width="554" height="658" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN that young <i>Damon</i> bless&#8217;d my Heart,<br />
+And in soft Words did move;<br />
+How did I hug the pleasing Dart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thank&#8217;d the God of Love:</span><br />
+<i>Cupid</i>, said I, my best lov&#8217;d Lamb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That in my Bosom lives:</span><br />
+To thee, for kindling this dear Flame,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To thee, kind God, I&#8217;ll give.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span>But prying Friends o&#8217;er-heard my Vow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And murmur&#8217;d in my Ear;</span><br />
+<i>Damon</i> hath neither Flocks nor Plough,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Girl what thou dost beware:</span><br />
+They us&#8217;d so long their cursed Art,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And damn&#8217;d deluding sham;</span><br />
+That I agreed with them to part,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor offer&#8217;d up my Lamb.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Cupid</i> ask&#8217;d for his Offering,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Cause I refus&#8217;d to pay;</span><br />
+He took my <i>Damon</i> on his Wing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And carry&#8217;d him quite away:</span><br />
+Pitch&#8217;d him before <i>Olinda&#8217;s</i> Charms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those Wonders of the Plain;</span><br />
+Commanding her into her Arms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To take the dearest Swain.</span><br />
+<br />
+The envy&#8217;d Nymph, soon, soon obey&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bore away the Prize;</span><br />
+&#8217;Tis well she did, for had she stay&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;d snatch&#8217;d him from her Eyes:</span><br />
+My Lamb was with gay Garlands dress&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Pile prepar&#8217;d to burn;</span><br />
+Hoping that if the God appeas&#8217;d,<br />
+My <i>Damon</i> might return.<br />
+<br />
+But oh! in vain he&#8217;s gone, he&#8217;s gone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Phillis</i> he can&#8217;t be thine;</span><br />
+I by Obedience am undone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was ever Fate like mine:</span><br />
+<i>Olinda</i> do, try all thy Charms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet I will have a part;</span><br />
+For whilst you have him in your Arms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll have him in my Heart.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco016.png" width="271" height="50" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Apparition to the Jilted Lover. Set<br />
+by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Wroth</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music057.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music057.png" width="555" height="829" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HINK wretched Mortal, think no more,<br />
+How to prolong thy Breath:<br />
+For thee there are no Joys in store,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But in a welcome Death:</span><br />
+Then seek to lay thee under Ground,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Grave cures all Despair;</span><br />
+And healeth every bitter Wound,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Giv&#8217;n by th&#8217; ungrateful Fair.</span><br />
+<br />
+How cou&#8217;dst thou Faith in Woman think,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Women are <i>Syrens</i> all;</span><br />
+And when Men in Loves Ocean sink,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take Pride to see &#8217;em fall:</span><br />
+Women were never real yet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But always truth despise:</span><br />
+Constant to nothing but Deceit,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">False Oaths and flattering Lies.</span><br />
+<br />
+Ah! <i>Coridon</i> bid Life adieu,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gods will thee prefer;</span><br />
+Their Gates are open&#8217;d wide for you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But bolted against her:</span><br />
+Do thou be true, you vow&#8217;d to Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Phillis</i> or Death you&#8217;ll have;</span><br />
+Now since the Nymph doth perjured prove,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be just unto the Grave.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco002.png" width="122" height="184" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music058.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music058.png" width="559" height="684" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>Eaven first created Woman to be Kind,<br />
+Both to be belov&#8217;d, and for to Love;<br />
+If you contradict what Heav&#8217;n has design&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You&#8217;ll be contemn&#8217;d by all the Pow&#8217;rs above:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span>Then no more dispute me, for I am rashly bent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To subject your Beauty</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To kind Nature&#8217;s Duty,</span><br />
+Let me than salute you by Consent.<br />
+<br />
+Arguments and fair Intreats did I use,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But with her Consent could not prevail;</span><br />
+She the Blessing modestly would still refuse,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seeming for to slight my amorous Tale:</span><br />
+Sometimes she would cry Sir, prithee Dear be good,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh Sir, pray Sir, why Sir?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray now, nay now, fye Sir,</span><br />
+I would sooner die Sir, than be rude.<br />
+<br />
+I began to treat her then another way,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Modestly I melted with a Kiss;</span><br />
+She then blushing look&#8217;d like the rising Day,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fitting for me to attempt the Bliss:</span><br />
+I gave her a fall Sir, she began to tear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crying she would call Sir,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As loud as she could baul Sir,</span><br />
+But is prov&#8217;d as false, Sir, as she&#8217;s Fair.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line006.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Ralph&#8217;s</span> <i>going to the Wars.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music059.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music059a.png" width="552" height="278" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music059b.png" width="551" height="207" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>O the Wars I must alass,<br />
+Though I do not like the Game,<br />
+For I hold him to be an Ass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That will lose his Life for Fame:</span><br />
+<i>For these Guns are such pestilent things,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>To pat a Pellet in ones Brow;</i></span><br />
+<i>Four vurlongs off ch&#8217;ve heard zome zay,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ch&#8217;ill kill a Man he knows not how.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+When the Bow, Bill, Zword and Dagger,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were us&#8217;d all in vighting;</span><br />
+Ch&#8217;ve heard my Father swear and swagger,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That it was but a Flea-biting:</span><br />
+<i>But these Guns</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Ise would vight with the best of our Parish,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And play at Whisters with <i>Mary</i>;</span><br />
+Cou&#8217;d thump the Vootball, yerk the Morrie,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And box at Visticuffs with any:</span><br />
+<i>But these Guns</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Varewel <i>Dick</i>, <i>Tom</i>, <i>Ralph</i> and <i>Hugh</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Maypoles make all heretofore;</span><br />
+Varewel <i>Doll</i>, <i>Kate</i>, <i>Zis</i> and <i>Zue</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I shall never zee you more:</span><br />
+<i>For these Guns are such pestilent things,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>To pat a Pellet in ones Brow;</i></span><br />
+<i>Four vurlongs off ch&#8217;ve heard zome zay,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ch&#8217;ill kill a Man he knows not how.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in Praise of Punch.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music060.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music060.png" width="550" height="547" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span>OME fill up the Bowl with the Liquor that fine is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And much more Divine is,</span><br />
+Than now a-days Wine is, with all their Art,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">None here can controul:</span><br />
+The Vintner despising, tho&#8217; Brandy be rising,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis Punch that must chear the Heart:</span><br />
+The Lovers complaining, &#8217;twill cure in a trice,<br />
+And <i>C&aelig;lia</i> disdaining, shall cease to be nice,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Come fill up the Bowl</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thus soon you&#8217;ll discover, the cheat of each Lover,<br />
+When free from all Care you&#8217;ll quickly find,<br />
+As Nature intended &#8217;em willing and kind:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Come fill up the Bowl</i>, &amp;c.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music061.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music061.png" width="554" height="208" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">B</span>ONNY <i>Peggy Ramsey</i> that any Man may see,<br />
+And bonny was her Face, with a fair freckel&#8217;d Eye,<br />
+Neat is her Body made, and she hath good Skill,<br />
+And square is her Wethergig made like a Mill:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a hey trolodel, hey trolodel, hey trolodel lill,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Bonny</i> Peggy Ramsey <i>she gives weel her Mill.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Peggy</i> to the Mill is gone to grind a Bowl of Mault,<br />
+The Mill it wanted Water, and was not that a fault;<br />
+Up she pull&#8217;d her Petticoats and piss&#8217;d into the Dam,<br />
+For six Days and seven Nights she made the Mill to gang;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a hey</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Some call her <i>Peggy</i>, and some call her <i>Jean</i>,<br />
+But some calls her Midsummer, but they all are mista&#8217;en;<br />
+For <i>Peggy</i> is a bonny Lass, and grinds well her Mill,<br />
+For she will be Occupied when others they lay still:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a hey</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Peg</i>, thee and Ise grin a poke, and we to War will leanes,<br />
+Ise lay thee flat upon thy Back and then lay to the steanes;<br />
+Ise make hopper titter totter, haud the Mouth as still,<br />
+When twa sit, and eane stand, merrily grind the Mill:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a hey</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span>Up goes the Clap, and in goes the Corn,<br />
+Betwixt twa rough steans <i>Peggy</i> not to learn;<br />
+With a Dam full of Water that she holdeth still,<br />
+To pour upon the Clap for burning of the Mill:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a hey</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Up she pull&#8217;d the Dam sure and let the Water in,<br />
+The Wheel went about, and the Mill began to grind:<br />
+The spindle it was hardy, and the steanes were they well pickt,<br />
+And the Meal fell in the Mill Trough, and ye may all come lick:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>With a hey trolodel, hey trolodel, hey trolodel lill,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Bonny</i> Peggy Ramsey <i>she gives weel her Mill.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Writ by the Famous Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Nat. Lee.</span></h3>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">P</span><i>Hilander</i> and <i>Sylvia</i>, a gentle soft Pair,<br />
+Whose business was loving, and kissing their Care;<br />
+In a sweet smelling Grove went smiling along,<br />
+&#8217;Till the Youth gave a vent to his Heart with his Tongue:<br />
+Ah <i>Sylvia</i>! said he, (and sigh&#8217;d when he spoke)<br />
+Your cruel resolves will you never revoke?<br />
+No never, she said, how never, he cry&#8217;d,<br />
+&#8217;Tis the Damn&#8217;d that shall only that Sentence abide.<br />
+<br />
+She turn&#8217;d her about to look all around,<br />
+Then blush&#8217;d, and her pretty Eyes cast on the Ground;<br />
+She kiss&#8217;d his warm Cheeks, then play&#8217;d with his Neck,<br />
+And urg&#8217;d that his Reason his Passion would check:<br />
+Ah <i>Philander</i>! she said, &#8217;tis a dangerous Bliss,<br />
+Ah! never ask more and I&#8217;ll give thee a Kiss;<br />
+How never? he cry&#8217;d, then shiver&#8217;d all o&#8217;er,<br />
+No never, she said, then tripp&#8217;d to a Bower.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span>She stopp&#8217;d at the Wicket, he cry&#8217;d let me in,<br />
+She answer&#8217;d, I wou&#8217;d if it were not a sin;<br />
+Heav&#8217;n sees, and the Gods will chastise the poor Head<br />
+Of <i>Philander</i> for this; straight Trembling he said,<br />
+Heav&#8217;n sees, I confess, but no Tell-tales are there,<br />
+She kiss&#8217;d him and cry&#8217;d, you&#8217;re an Atheist my Dear;<br />
+And shou&#8217;d you prove false I should never endure:<br />
+How never? he cry&#8217;d, and straight down he threw her.<br />
+<br />
+Her delicate Body he clasp&#8217;d in his Arms,<br />
+He kiss&#8217;d her, he press&#8217;d her, heap&#8217;d charms upon charms;<br />
+He cry&#8217;d shall I now? no never, she said,<br />
+Your Will you shall never enjoy till I&#8217;m dead:<br />
+Then as if she were dead, she slept and lay still,<br />
+Yet even in Death bequeath&#8217;d him a smile:<br />
+Which embolden&#8217;d the Youth his Charms to apply,<br />
+Which he bore still about him to cure those that die.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line001.png" width="539" height="53" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music062.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music062.png" width="554" height="324" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">Y</span>Our Hay it is mow&#8217;d, and your Corn is reap&#8217;d,<br />
+Your Barns will be full, and your Hovels heap&#8217;d;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come, my Boys come,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come, my Boys come,</span><br />
+And merrily roar our Harvest home:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Harvest home,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Harvest home,</span><br />
+And merrily roar our Harvest home.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Come, my Boys come</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+We ha&#8217; cheated the Parson, we&#8217;ll cheat him agen,<br />
+For why should a Blockhead ha&#8217; One in Ten:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">One in Ten,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">One in Ten,</span><br />
+For why should a Blockhead ha&#8217; One in Ten,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>One in Ten</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+For prating too long, like a Book learnt Sot,<br />
+&#8217;Till Pudding and Dumpling are burnt to Pot:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Burnt to Pot,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Burnt to Pot,</span><br />
+&#8217;Till Pudding and Dumpling are burnt to Pot.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Burnt to Pot</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+We&#8217;ll toss off our Ale till we cannot stand,<br />
+And hey for the Honour of old <i>England</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Old <i>England</i>,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Old <i>England</i>,</span><br />
+And hey for the Honour of old <i>England</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Old</i> England, <i>&amp;c.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco017.png" width="96" height="97" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music063.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music063.png" width="555" height="620" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span> Prithee send me back my Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since I cannot have thine:</span><br />
+For if from yours you will not part,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why then should you have mine.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yet now I think on&#8217;t, let it be,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To send it me is vain;</span><br />
+Thou hast a Thief in either Eye,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will steal it back again.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span>Why should two Hearts in one Breast be,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet not be together;</span><br />
+Or Love, where is thy Sympathy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If thou our Hearts do sever?</span><br />
+<br />
+But Love is such a Mystery,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I cannot find it out;</span><br />
+For when I think I am best resolv&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then I am most in Doubt.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then farewel Care, then farewel Woe,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I will no longer pine;</span><br />
+But I&#8217;ll believe I have her Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As well as she hath mine.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line017.png" width="505" height="53" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Bacchus</span> <i>turn&#8217;d Doctor. The Words by</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Ben. Johnson</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music064.midi">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music064a.png" width="553" height="421" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music064b.png" width="553" height="82" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>ET Soldiers fight for Pay and Praise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Money be Misers wish;</span><br />
+Poor Scholars study all their Days,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Gluttons glory in their Dish:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>&#8217;Tis Wine, pure Wine, revives sad Souls,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Therefore give us chearing Bowls.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Let Minions marshal in their Hair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in a Lover&#8217;s lock delight;</span><br />
+And artificial Colours wear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We have the Native Red and White.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>&#8217;Tis Wine</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Your Pheasant, Pout, and Culver Salmon,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And how to please your Palates think:</span><br />
+Give us a salt <i>Westphalia-Gammon</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not Meat to eat, but Meat to drink.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>&#8217;Tis Wine</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+It makes the backward Spirits brave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That lively, that before was dull;</span><br />
+Those grow good Fellows that are grave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And kindness flows from Cups brim full,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>&#8217;Tis Wine</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Some have the Ptysick, some the Rhume,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some have the Palsie, some the Gout;</span><br />
+Some swell with Fat, and some consume,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But they are sound that drink all out.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>&#8217;Tis Wine</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Some Men want Youth, and some want Health,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some want a Wife, and some a Punk;</span><br />
+Some Men want Wit, and some want Wealth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But he wants nothing that is drunk.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>&#8217;Tis Wine, pure Wine, revives sad Souls,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Therefore give us chearing Bowls.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Jenny</span> <i>making Hay.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music065.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music065.png" width="552" height="615" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">P</span>OOR <i>Jenny</i> and I we toiled,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a long Summer&#8217;s Day;</span><br />
+Till we were almost foiled,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With making of the Hay;</span><br />
+Her Kerchief was of Holland clear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bound low upon her Brow;</span><br />
+Ise whisper&#8217;d something in her Ear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>But what&#8217;s that to you?</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span>Her Stockings were of Kersey green,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well stitcht with yellow Silk;</span><br />
+Oh! sike a Leg was never seen,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Skin as white as Milk:</span><br />
+Her Hair as black as any Crow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sweet her Mouth was too;</span><br />
+Oh <i>Jenny</i> daintily can mow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>But</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her Petticoats were not so low,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Ladies they do wear them;</span><br />
+She needed not a Page I trow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I was by to bear them:</span><br />
+Ise took them up all in my Hand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I think her Linnen too;</span><br />
+Which made me for to make a stand;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>But</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+King <i>Solomon</i> had Wives enough,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Concubines a Number;</span><br />
+Yet Ise possess more happiness,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he had more of Cumber;</span><br />
+My Joys surmount a wedded Life,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With fear she lets me mow her;</span><br />
+A Wench is better than a Wife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>But</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Lilly and the Rose combine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make my <i>Jenny</i> fair;</span><br />
+There&#8217;s no Contentment sike as mine;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;m almost void of Care:</span><br />
+But yet I fear my <i>Jenny&#8217;s</i> Face,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will cause more Men to woe;</span><br />
+Which if she should, as I do fear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Still, what is that to you?</i></span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco005.png" width="67" height="66" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Knotting</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>The Words by Sir</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Charles Sydney</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music066.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music066.png" width="555" height="818" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>Ears not my <i>Phillis</i> how the Birds,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their feather&#8217;d Mates salute:</span><br />
+They tell their Passion in their Words,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must I alone, must I alone be mute:</span><br />
+Phillis <i>without a frown or smile,</i><br />
+<i>Sat &amp; knotted, &amp; knotted, &amp; knotted, and knotted all the while.</i><br />
+<br />
+The God of Love in thy bright Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Does like a Tyrant Reign;</span><br />
+But in thy Heart a Child he lies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without a Dart or Flame.</span><br />
+<i>Phillis</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+So many Months in silence past,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet in raging Love;</span><br />
+Might well deserve one word at last,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Passion should approve.</span><br />
+<i>Phillis</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Must then your faithful Swain expire,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And not one look obtain;</span><br />
+Which to sooth his fond desire,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Might pleasingly explain.</span><br />
+<i>Phillis</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco006.png" width="208" height="77" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line011.png" width="533" height="38" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">French King</span> <i>in a foaming Passion for the loss of his Potent
+Army in the</i> <span class="smcap">Netherlands</span>, <i>which were Routed by his Grace the Duke of</i>
+<span class="smcap">Marlborough</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music067.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music067a.png" width="552" height="677" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music067b.png" width="555" height="217" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">O</span>LD <i>Lewis le Grand</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He raves like a Fury,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And calls for <i>Mercury</i>;</span><br />
+Quoth he, if I can,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll finish my Days;</span><br />
+For why should I live?<br />
+Since the Fates will not give<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One affable smile:</span><br />
+Great <i>Marlborough</i> Conquers,<br />
+Great <i>Marlborough</i> Conquers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;m ruin&#8217;d the while.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Flower of <i>France</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Troops of my Palace</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which march&#8217;d from <i>Versales</i></span><br />
+Who vow&#8217;d to Advance,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Conquering Sword,</span><br />
+Are cut, hack&#8217;d and hew&#8217;d,<br />
+I well may conclude,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They&#8217;re most of them Slain:</span><br />
+Oh! what will become of,<br />
+Oh! what will become of,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Grand-Son in <i>Spain</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+My fortify&#8217;d Throne,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Propt up by Oppression,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must yield at Discretion,</span><br />
+For needs must I own,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Glory decays:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span>Bold <i>Marlborough</i> comes<br />
+With ratling Drums,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thundering Shot,</span><br />
+He drives all before him,<br />
+He drives all before him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! Where am I got?</span><br />
+<br />
+He pushes for Crowns,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And slays my Commanders,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Forces in <i>Flanders</i>;</span><br />
+Great Capital Towns,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For <i>CHARLES</i> has declar&#8217;d:</span><br />
+These things like a Dart,<br />
+Has pierced my Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And threatens my Death;</span><br />
+Here do I lye sighing,<br />
+Here do I lye sighing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Panting for Breath.</span><br />
+<br />
+This passionate Grief,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Draws on my Diseases,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which fatally ceases</span><br />
+My Spirits in chief,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A fit of the Gout,</span><br />
+The Gravel and Stone,<br />
+I have &#8217;tis well known,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At this horrid News,</span><br />
+Of <i>Marlborough&#8217;s</i> Triumph,<br />
+Of <i>Marlborough&#8217;s</i> Triumph,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All Battles I lose.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wherever he comes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He is bold and Victorious,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Successful and glorious,</span><br />
+My two Royal Thumbs<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With anguish I bite:</span><br />
+To hear his Success;<br />
+Yet nevertheless,<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">My passion&#8217;s in vain:</span><br />
+I pity my Darling,<br />
+I pity my Darling,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young <i>Philip</i> in <i>Spain</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+I am out of my Wits,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If e&#8217;er I had any;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Foes they are many,</span><br />
+Which plagues me by fits,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In <i>Flanders</i> and <i>Spain</i>:</span><br />
+I&#8217;m sick at my Heart,<br />
+To think we must part,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With what we enjoy&#8217;d,</span><br />
+Towns, Castles, are taken,<br />
+Towns, Castles, are taken,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Troops are destroy&#8217;d.</span><br />
+<br />
+I am I declare,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a weak Condition,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go call my Physician,</span><br />
+And let him prepare<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some comfort with speed,</span><br />
+Without all delay,<br />
+Assist me I pray,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hear my Complaint,</span><br />
+A Dram of the Bottle,<br />
+A Dram of the Bottle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or else I shall faint.</span><br />
+<br />
+Should I slip my Breath,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At this dreadful Season,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I think it but Reason,</span><br />
+I should lay my Death,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the daring Foes,</span><br />
+Whose Fire and Smoak,<br />
+Has certainly broke,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Heart in my Breast:</span><br />
+Oh! bring me a Cordial,<br />
+Oh! bring me a Cordial,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lay me to Rest.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Captain</i> <span class="smcap">Pack</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music068.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music068.png" width="554" height="641" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Ould you be a Man in Fashion?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would you lead a Life Divine?</span><br />
+Take a little Dram of Passion, (a little dram of Passion)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a lusty Dose of Wine</span><br />
+If the Nymph has no Compassion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vain it is to sigh and groan:</span><br />
+Love was but put in for Fashion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wine will do the Work alone.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Tho. Farmer</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music069.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music069.png" width="554" height="805" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>Hough the Pride of my Passion fair <i>Sylvia</i> betrays,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And frowns at the Love I impart;</span><br />
+Though kindly her Eyes twist amorous Rays,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To tye a more fortunate Heart:</span><br />
+Yet her Charms are so great, I&#8217;ll be bold in my Pain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His Heart is too tender,</span><br />
+Too tender, that&#8217;s struck with Disdain.<br />
+<br />
+Still my Heart is so just to my Passionate Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It dissolves with Delight while I gaze:</span><br />
+And he that loves on, though <i>Sylvia</i> denies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Love but his Duty obeys:</span><br />
+I no more can refrain her neglects to pursue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Than the force, the force</span><br />
+Of her Beauty can cease to subdue.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line018.png" width="515" height="56" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music070.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music070a.png" width="551" height="379" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music070b.png" width="558" height="290" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN first I fair <i>Celinda</i> knew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Kindness then was great:</span><br />
+Her Eyes I cou&#8217;d with Pleasure view,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And friendly Rays did meet:</span><br />
+In all Delights we past the time,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That could Diversion move;</span><br />
+She oft would kindly hear me Rhime<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon some others Love:</span><br />
+<i>She oft would kindly hear me Rhime,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Upon some others Love.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+But ah! at last I grew too bold,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Prest by my growing Flame;</span><br />
+For when my Passion I had told,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She hated ev&#8217;n my Name:</span><br />
+Thus I that cou&#8217;d her Friendship boast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And did her Love pursue;</span><br />
+And taught Contentment at the cost,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Love and Friendship too.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco018.png" width="109" height="66" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Fishburne</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music071.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music071.png" width="558" height="576" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>ONG had <i>Damon</i> been admir&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the Beauties of the Plain;</span><br />
+Ev&#8217;ry Breast warm Love inspir&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the proper handsome Swain:</span><br />
+The choicest Nymph <i>Sicilia</i> bred,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was won by his resistless Charms:</span><br />
+Soft Looks, and Verse as smooth, had led<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And left the Captive in his Arms.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span>But our <i>Damon&#8217;s</i> Soul aspires,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To a Goddess of his Race;</span><br />
+Though he sues with chaster Fires,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This his Glories does deface:</span><br />
+The fatal News no sooner blown<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Whispers up the Chesnut Row;</span><br />
+The God <i>Sylvanus</i> with a Frown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blasts all the Lawrels on his Brow.</span><br />
+<br />
+Swains be wise, and check desire<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In it&#8217;s soaring, when you&#8217;ll woe:</span><br />
+<i>Damon</i> may in Love require<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Thestyles</i> and <i>Laura</i> too:</span><br />
+When Shepherds too ambitious are,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Court <i>Astrea</i> on a Throne;</span><br />
+Like to the shooting of a Star,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They fall, and thus their shining&#8217;s gone.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Fishburn</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music072.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music072a.png" width="553" height="353" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music072b.png" width="552" height="338" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">P</span>Retty <i>Floramel</i>, no Tongue can ever tell,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Charms that in thee dwell;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Those Soul-melting Pleasures,</span><br />
+Shou&#8217;d the mighty <i>Jove</i> once view, he&#8217;d be in Love,<br />
+And plunder all above,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To rain down his Treasure:</span><br />
+Ah! said the Nymph in the Shepherd&#8217;s Arms,<br />
+Had you half so much Love as you say I have Charms;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There&#8217;s not a Soul, created for Man and Love,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More true than <i>Floramel</i> wou&#8217;d prove,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;d o&#8217;er the World with thee rove.</span><br />
+<br />
+Love that&#8217;s truly free, had never Jealousie,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But artful Love may be</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Both doubtful and wooing;</span><br />
+Ah! dear Shepherdess, ne&#8217;er doubt, for you may guess,<br />
+My Heart will prove no less,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Than ever endless loving:</span><br />
+Then cries the Nymph, like the Sun thou shalt be,<br />
+And I, like kind Earth, will produce all to thee;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of ev&#8217;ry Flower in Love&#8217;s Garden I&#8217;ll Off&#8217;rings pay</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To my Saint. Nay then pray</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take not those dear Eyes away.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Robert King</span>.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music073.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music073.png" width="556" height="596" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">B</span>Y shady Woods and purling Streams,<br />
+I spend my Life in pleasing Dreams;<br />
+And would not for the World be thought<br />
+To change my false delightful Thought:<br />
+For who, alas! can happy be,<br />
+That does the Truth of all things see?<br />
+<i>For who, alas! can happy be,</i><br />
+<i>That does the Truth of all things see.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Sett by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Henry Purcell</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music074.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music074.png" width="554" height="597" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span>N <i>Chloris</i> all soft Charms agree,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enchanting Humour pow&#8217;rful Wit;</span><br />
+Beauty from Affectation free,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for Eternal Empire fit:</span><br />
+Where-e&#8217;er she goes, Love waits her Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Women Envy, Men adore;</span><br />
+Tho&#8217; did she less the Triumph Prize,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She wou&#8217;d deserve the Conquest more.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span>But Vanity so much prevails,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She begs what else none can deny her;</span><br />
+And with inviting treach&#8217;rous Smiles<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gives hopes which ev&#8217;n prevent desire:</span><br />
+Reaches at every trifling Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grows warm with ev&#8217;ry glimm&#8217;ring Flame:</span><br />
+And common Prey so deads her Dart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It scarce can wound a noble Game.</span><br />
+<br />
+I could lye Ages at her Feet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adore her careless of my Pain;</span><br />
+With tender Vows her Rigour meet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Despair, love on, and not complain:</span><br />
+My Passion from all change secur&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Favours may rise, no Frown controuls;</span><br />
+I any Torment can endure,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But hoping with a crowd of Fools.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line019.png" width="543" height="87" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Tho. Farmer</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music075.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music075a.png" width="554" height="232" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music075b.png" width="556" height="209" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN busie Fame o&#8217;er all the Plain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Velinda&#8217;s</i> Praises rung;</span><br />
+And on their Oaten Pipes each Swain<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her matchless Beauty sung:</span><br />
+The Envious Nymphs were forc&#8217;d to yield<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She had the sweetest Face;</span><br />
+No emulous disputes were held,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But for the second place.</span><br />
+<br />
+Young <i>Coridon</i>, whose stubborn Heart<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Beauty e&#8217;er could move;</span><br />
+But smil&#8217;d at <i>Cupid&#8217;s</i> Bow and Dart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And brav&#8217;d the God of Love:</span><br />
+Would view this Nymph, and pleas&#8217;d at first,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such silent Charms to see:</span><br />
+With Wonder gaz&#8217;d, then sigh&#8217;d, and curs&#8217;d<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Curiosity.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco008.png" width="317" height="72" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Fishburne</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music076.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music076.png" width="557" height="588" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Hy am I the only Creature,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must a ruin&#8217;d Love pursue;</span><br />
+Other Passions yield to Nature,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mine there&#8217;s nothing can subdue:</span><br />
+Not the Glory of Possessing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Monarch wishes gave me ease,</span><br />
+More and more the mighty Blessings<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did my raging Pains encrease.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span>Nor could Jealousie relieve me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tho&#8217; it ever waited near;</span><br />
+Cloath&#8217;d in gawdy Pow&#8217;r to grieve me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still the Monster would appear:</span><br />
+That, nor Time, nor Absence neither,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor Despair removes my Pain;</span><br />
+I endure them all together,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet my Torments still remain.</span><br />
+<br />
+Had alone her matchless beauty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Set my amorous Heart on Fire,</span><br />
+Age at last would do its Duty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fuel ceasing, Flames expire.</span><br />
+But her Mind immortal grows,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes my Love immortal too;</span><br />
+Nature ne&#8217;er created Faces,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can the Charms of Souls undoe.</span><br />
+<br />
+And to make my Loss the greater,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She laments it as her own;</span><br />
+Could she scorn me, I might hate her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But alas! she shews me none:</span><br />
+Then since Fortune is my Ruin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Retirement I&#8217;ll Complain;</span><br />
+And in rage for my undoing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ne&#8217;er come in its Power again.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco019.png" width="164" height="116" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music077.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music077.png" width="559" height="649" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span><i>Aurinda</i>, who did love Disdain,<br />
+For whom had languish&#8217;d many a Swain:<br />
+Leading her bleating Flocks to drink,<br />
+She &#8217;spy&#8217;d upon a River&#8217;s brink<br />
+A Youth, whose Eyes did well declare,<br />
+How much he lov&#8217;d, but lov&#8217;d not her.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span>At first she laugh&#8217;d, but gaz&#8217;d a while,<br />
+Which soon it lessen&#8217;d to a smile;<br />
+Thence to Surprize and Wonder came,<br />
+Her Breast to heave, her Heart to flame:<br />
+Then cry&#8217;d she out, Ah! now I prove<br />
+Thou art a God most mighty <i>Jove</i>.<br />
+<br />
+She would have spoke, but shame deny&#8217;d,<br />
+And bid her first consult her Pride;<br />
+But soon she found that aid was gone,<br />
+For <i>Jove</i>, alass! had left her none:<br />
+Ah! now she burns! but &#8217;tis too late,<br />
+For in his Eyes she reads her Fate.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line020.png" width="534" height="58" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music078.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music078a.png" width="554" height="418" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music078b.png" width="554" height="191" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">F</span>AIR <i>C&aelig;lia</i> too fondly contemns those Delights,<br />
+Wherewith gentle Nature hath soften&#8217;d the Nights;<br />
+If she be so kind to present us with Pow&#8217;r,<br />
+The Fault is our own to neglect the good Hour:<br />
+Who gave thee this Beauty, ordain&#8217;d thou should&#8217;st be,<br />
+As kind to thy Slaves, as the Gods were to thee.<br />
+<br />
+Then <i>C&aelig;lia</i> no longer reserve the vain Pride,<br />
+Of wronging thy self, to see others deny&#8217;d;<br />
+If Love be a Pleasure, alass! you will find,<br />
+We both are not happy, when both are most kind:<br />
+But Women, like Priests, do in others reprove,<br />
+And call that thing Lust, which in them is but Love.<br />
+<br />
+What they thro&#8217; their Madness and Folly create,<br />
+We poor silly Slaves still impute to our Fate;<br />
+But in such Distempers where Love is the Grief,<br />
+&#8217;Tis <i>C&aelig;lia</i>, not Heaven, must give us Relief:<br />
+Then away with those Titles of Honour and Cause,<br />
+Which first made us sin, by giving us Laws.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco013.png" width="216" height="62" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">William Turner</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music079.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music079.png" width="562" height="793" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span> Lik&#8217;d, but never Lov&#8217;d before<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I saw that charming Face;</span><br />
+Now every Feature I adore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And doat on ev&#8217;ry Grace:</span><br />
+She ne&#8217;er shall know that kind desire,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which her cold Looks denies,</span><br />
+Unless my Heart that&#8217;s all on Fire,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should sparkle through my Eyes:</span><br />
+Then if no gentle Glance return,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A silent Leave to speak;</span><br />
+My Heart which would for ever burn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alass! must sigh and break.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line021.png" width="508" height="74" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG <i>in</i> Valentinian.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music080.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music080a.png" width="556" height="389" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music080b.png" width="556" height="588" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HERE would coy <i>Amyntas</i> run,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From a despairing Lover&#8217;s Story?</span><br />
+When her Eyes have Conquest won,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why should her Ear refuse the Glory:</span><br />
+Shall a Slave, whose Racks constrain,<br />
+Be forbidden to complain;<br />
+Let her scorn me, let her Fly me,<br />
+Let her Looks, her Love deny me:<br />
+Ne&#8217;er shall my Heart yield to despair,<br />
+Or my Tongue cease to tell my Care,<br />
+Or my Tongue cease to tell my Care:<br />
+Much to love, and much to pray,<br />
+Is to Heav&#8217;n the only way.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> Pelham Humphreys.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music081.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music081.png" width="561" height="443" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="dropcap">A</span> Wife I do hate,</span><br />
+For either she&#8217;s False, or she&#8217;s Jealous;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But give me a Mate,</span><br />
+Who nothing will ask us or tell us:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She stands at no Terms,</span><br />
+Nor Chaffers by way of Indenture:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or Loves for the Farms,</span><br />
+But takes the kind Man at a Venture.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If all prove not right,</span><br />
+Without an Act, Process or Warning,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Wife for a Night,</span><br />
+You may be divorc&#8217;d the next Morning,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where Parents are Slaves,</span><br />
+Their Brats can&#8217;t be any other;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great Wits and great Braves,</span><br />
+Have always a Punk to their Mother.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music082.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music082a.png" width="562" height="823" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music082b.png" width="560" height="308" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>ELL me ye <i>Sicilian</i> Swains,<br />
+Why this Mourning&#8217;s o&#8217;er your Plains;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where&#8217;s your usual Melody?</span><br />
+Why are all your Shepherds mad,<br />
+And your Shepherdesses sad?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What can the mighty meaning be?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Chorus.</i> <i>Sylvia</i> the Glory of our Plains;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Sylvia</i> the Love of all our Swains;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That blest us with her Smiles:</span><br />
+Where ev&#8217;ry Shepherd had a Heart,<br />
+And ev&#8217;ry Shepherdess a Part;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Slights our Gods, and leaves our Isle,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Slights our Gods, and leaves our Isle.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco019.png" width="164" height="116" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music083.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music083.png" width="557" height="869" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN gay <i>Philander</i> left the Plain,<br />
+The Love, the Life of ev&#8217;ry Swain;<br />
+His Pipe the mournful <i>Strephon</i> took,<br />
+By some sad Bank and murm&#8217;ring Brook:<br />
+Whilst list&#8217;ning Flocks forsook their Food,<br />
+And Melancholy by him stood;<br />
+On the cold Ground himself he laid,<br />
+And thus the Mournful Shepherd play&#8217;d.<br />
+<br />
+Farewel to all that&#8217;s bright and gay,<br />
+No more glad Night and chearing Day;<br />
+No more the Sun will gild our Plain,<br />
+&#8217;Till the lost Youth return again:<br />
+Then every pensive Heart that now,<br />
+With Mournful Willow shades his Brow;<br />
+Shall crown&#8217;d with chearful Garlands sing,<br />
+And all shall seem Eternal Spring.<br />
+<br />
+Say, mighty <i>Pan</i>, if you did know,<br />
+Say all ye rural Gods below;<br />
+&#8217;Mongst all Youths that grac&#8217;d your Plain,<br />
+So gay so beautiful a Swain:<br />
+In whose sweet Air and charming Voice,<br />
+Our list&#8217;ning Swains did all Rejoyce;<br />
+Him only, O ye Gods! restore<br />
+Your Nymphs, and Shepherds ask no more.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco012.png" width="316" height="129" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line003.png" width="551" height="28" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Tho. Kingsley</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music084.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music084a.png" width="559" height="755" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music084b.png" width="553" height="579" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>OW Happy&#8217;s the Mortal whose Heart is his own,<br />
+And for his own Quiet&#8217;s beholden to none,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">(<i>Eccho.</i> Beholden to none, to none;)</span><br />
+That to Love&#8217;s Enchantments ne&#8217;er lendeth an Ear,<br />
+Which a Frown or a Smile can equally bear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">(<i>Eccho.</i> Can equally bear, can bear,)</span><br />
+Nor on ev&#8217;ry frail Beauty still fixes an Eye,<br />
+But from those sly Felons doth prudently fly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">(<i>Eccho.</i> Doth prudently, prudently fly, doth fly;)</span><br />
+For the Heart that still wanders is pounded at last,<br />
+And &#8217;tis hard to relieve it when once it is fast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">(<i>Eccho.</i> When once it is fast, is fast.)</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span>By sporting with Dangers still longer and longer,<br />
+The Fetters and Chains of the Captive grows stronger;<br />
+He drills on his Evil, then curses his Fate,<br />
+And bewails those Misfortunes himself did create:<br />
+Like an empty Camelion he lives on the Air,<br />
+And all the Day lingers &#8217;twixt Hope and Despair;<br />
+Like a Fly in the Candle he sports and he Games,<br />
+&#8217;Till a Victim in Folly, he dies in the Flames.<br />
+<br />
+If Love, so much talk&#8217;d of, a Heresie be,<br />
+Of all it enslaves few true Converts we see;<br />
+If hectoring and huffing would once do the Feat,<br />
+There&#8217;s few that would fail of a Vict&#8217;ry Compleat;<br />
+But with Gain to come off, and the Tyrant subdue,<br />
+Is an Art that is hitherto practis&#8217;d by few;<br />
+How easie is Freedom once had to maintain,<br />
+But Liberty lost is as hard to regain.<br />
+<br />
+This driv&#8217;ling and sniv&#8217;ling, and chiming in Parts,<br />
+This wining and pining, and breaking of Hearts;<br />
+All pensive and silent in Corners to sit,<br />
+Are pretty fine Pastimes for those that want Wit:<br />
+When this Passion and Fashion doth so far abuse &#8217;em,<br />
+It were good the State should for Pendulums use &#8217;em;<br />
+For if Reason it seize on, and make it give o&#8217;er,<br />
+No Labour can save, or reliev&#8217;t any more.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco001.png" width="217" height="53" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song.</span> <i>Set by Mr.</i> Henry Purcell.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music085.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music085.png" width="558" height="641" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span> Thousand several ways I try&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hide my Passion from your view;</span><br />
+Conscious that I should be deny&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because I cannot Merit you:</span><br />
+Absence, the last and worst of all,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did so encrease my wretched Pain,</span><br />
+That I return&#8217;d, rather to fall<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By the swift Fate, by the swift Fate of your Disdain.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music086.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music086.png" width="552" height="592" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>O the Grove, gentle Love, let us be going,<br />
+Where the kind Spring and Wind all Day are Woing;<br />
+He with soft sighing Blasts strives to o&#8217;er-take her,<br />
+She would not tho&#8217; she flies, have him forsake her,<br />
+But in circling Rings returning,<br />
+And in purling Whispers Mourning;<br />
+She swells and pants, as if she&#8217;d say,<br />
+Fain I would, but dare not stay.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Fishburn</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music087.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music087.png" width="556" height="583" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>ELL me no more of Flames in Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That common dull pretence,</span><br />
+Fools in Romances use to move<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Soft Hearts of little Sense:</span><br />
+No, <i>Strephon</i>, I&#8217;m not such a Slave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Love&#8217;s banish&#8217;d Power to own;</span><br />
+Since Interest and Convenience have<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So long usurp&#8217;d his Throne.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span>No burning Hope or cold Despair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dull Groves or purling Streams,</span><br />
+Sighing and talking to the Air<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Love&#8217;s fantastick Dreams,</span><br />
+Can move my Pity or my Hate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Satyrist I&#8217;ll prove,</span><br />
+And all ridiculous create<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That shall pretend to Love.</span><br />
+<br />
+Love was a Monarch once, &#8217;tis true,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And God-like rul&#8217;d alone,</span><br />
+And tho&#8217; his Subjects were but few,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their Hearts were all his own;</span><br />
+But since the Slaves revolted are,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And turn&#8217;d into a State,</span><br />
+Their Int&#8217;rest is their only Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Love grows out of Date.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line006.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Fishburn</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music088.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music088a.png" width="550" height="340" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music088b.png" width="558" height="86" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Ealth breeds Care, Love, Hope and Fear;<br />
+What does Love our Business hear?<br />
+While <i>Bacchus</i> merry does appear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fight on and fear no sinking,</span><br />
+Charge it briskly to the Brim,<br />
+&#8217;Till the flying Top-sails swim,<br />
+We owe the great Discovery to him<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of this new World of Drinking.</span><br />
+<br />
+Grave Cabals that States refine,<br />
+Mingle their Debates with Wine;<br />
+<i>Ceres</i> and the God o&#8217;th&#8217; Wine;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes every great Commander.</span><br />
+Let sober Sots Small-beer subdue,<br />
+The Wise and valiant Wine does woe;<br />
+The <i>Stagyrite</i> had the honour to<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be drunk with <i>Alexander</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Stand to your Arms, and now Advance<br />
+A Health to the <i>English</i> King of <i>France</i>;<br />
+On to the next a <i>bon Speranze</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By <i>Bacchus</i> and <i>Apollo</i>.</span><br />
+Thus in State I lead the Van,<br />
+Fall in your Place by your right-hand Man,<br />
+Beat Drum! now March! Dub a dub, ran dan,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He&#8217;s a <i>Whig</i> that will not follow.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco020.png" width="223" height="65" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> Fishburn.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music089.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music089.png" width="557" height="685" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HO&#8217; Fortune and Love may be Deities still,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To those they Oblige by their Pow&#8217;r;</span><br />
+For my Part, they ever have us&#8217;d me so ill,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They cannot expect I&#8217;ll adore:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span>Hereafter a Temple to Friendship I&#8217;ll raise,<br />
+And dedicate there all the rest of my Days,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the Goddess accepted my Vows,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>To the Goddess accepted my Vows</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thou perfectest Image of all things Divine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bright Center of endless Desires,</span><br />
+May the Glory be yours, and the Services mine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I light at your Altars the Fires.</span><br />
+I offer a Heart has Devotion so pure,<br />
+It would for your Service all Torments endure,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Might you but have all things you wish,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Might you</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+But yet the Goddess of Fools to despise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I find I&#8217;m too much in her Power;</span><br />
+She makes me go where &#8217;tis in vain to be wise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In absence of her I adore:</span><br />
+If Love then undoes me before I get back,<br />
+I still with resignment receive the Attack,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or languish away in Despair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Or languish</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line022.png" width="533" height="54" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> Henry Purcell.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music090.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music090a.png" width="557" height="191" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music090b.png" width="554" height="481" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>E himself courts his own Ruin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That with too great Passion sues &#8217;em:</span><br />
+When Men Whine too much in Wooing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Women with like Coquets use &#8217;em:</span><br />
+Some by this way of addressing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have the Sex so far transported,</span><br />
+That they&#8217;ll fool away the Blessing<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the Pride of being Courted.</span><br />
+<br />
+Jilt and smile when we adore &#8217;em,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While some Blockhead buys the Favour;</span><br />
+Presents have more Power o&#8217;er &#8217;em<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than all our soft Love and Labour,</span><br />
+Thus, like Zealots, with screw&#8217;d Faces,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We our fooling make the greater,</span><br />
+While we cant long winded Graces,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Others they fall to the Creature.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Damasene</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music091.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music091.png" width="565" height="730" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span>Ease lovely <i>Strephon</i>, cease to charm;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Useless, alas! is all this Art;</span><br />
+It&#8217;s needless you should strongly arm,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To take a too, too willing Heart:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span>I hid my weakness all I could,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And chid my pratling tell-tale Eyes,</span><br />
+For fear the easie Conquest should<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take from the value of the Prize.</span><br />
+<br />
+But oh! th&#8217; unruly Passion grew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So fast, it could not be conceal&#8217;d,</span><br />
+And soon, alas! I found to you<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I must without Conditions yield,</span><br />
+Tho&#8217; you have thus surpriz&#8217;d my Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet use it kindly, for you know,</span><br />
+It&#8217;s not a gallant Victor&#8217;s part<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To insult o&#8217;er a vanquish&#8217;d Foe.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line009.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Damasene</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music092.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music092a.png" width="553" height="357" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music092b.png" width="559" height="341" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">Y</span>OU happy Youths, whose Hearts are free<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Love&#8217;s Imperial Chain,</span><br />
+Henceforth be warn&#8217;d and taught by me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And taught by me to avoid inchanting Pain,</span><br />
+Fatal the Wolves to trembling Flocks,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sharp Winds to Blossoms prove:</span><br />
+To careless Seamen, hidden Rocks;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To human quiet Love.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fly the Fair-Sex, if Bliss you prize,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Snake&#8217;s beneath the Flow&#8217;r:</span><br />
+Whoever gaz&#8217;d on Beauties Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That tasted Quiet more?</span><br />
+The Kind with restless Jealousie,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Cruel fill with Care;</span><br />
+With baser Falshood those betray,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These kill us with Despair.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco005.png" width="67" height="66" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Dr.</i> <span class="smcap">Staggins</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music093.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music093.png" width="557" height="585" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN first <i>Amyntas</i> charm&#8217;d my Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The heedless Sheep began to stray;</span><br />
+The Wolves soon stole the greatest part,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all will now be made a Prey:</span><br />
+Ah! let not Love your Thoughts possess,<br />
+&#8217;Tis fatal to a Shepherdess;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dangerous Passion you must shun,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or else like me, be quite undone.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>A SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Richard Croone</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music094.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music094.png" width="553" height="416" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>OW happy and free is the resolute Swain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That denies to submit to the Yoak of the Fair;</span><br />
+Free from Excesses of Pleasure and Pain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Neither dazl&#8217;d with Hope, nor deprest with Despair.</span><br />
+He&#8217;s safe from Disturbance, and calmly enjoys<br />
+All the Pleasures of Love, without Clamour and Noise.<br />
+<br />
+Poor Shepherds in vain their Affections reveal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To a Nymph that is peevish, proud sullen and coy;</span><br />
+Vainly do Virgins their Passions conceal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For they boil in their Grief, &#8217;till themselves they destroy,</span><br />
+And thus the poor Darling lies under a Curse:<br />
+To be check&#8217;d in the Womb, or o&#8217;erlaid by the Nurse.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Sung by Mrs.</i> Cross <i>in the</i> Mock-Astrologer,<br />
+<i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Ramondon</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music095.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music095a.png" width="556" height="772" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music095b.png" width="554" height="218" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HY so pale and wan fond Lover?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Prithee, prithee, Prithee why so pale:</span><br />
+Will, when looking well can&#8217;t move her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Looking Ill, looking ill prevail?</span><br />
+Why so dull and mute young Sinner?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Prithee, prithee why so mute;</span><br />
+Will, when speaking well can&#8217;t win her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Saying nothing, nothing do&#8217;t?</span><br />
+Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot take her;</span><br />
+If of her self she will not love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nothing can, nothing can make her,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Devil, the Devil, the Devil, the Devil take her.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco002.png" width="122" height="184" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>occasioned by a Lady&#8217;s wearing a Patch upon a becoming place
+on her Face. Set by Mr.</i> John Weldon.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music096.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music096a.png" width="560" height="816" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music096b.png" width="558" height="630" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HAT little Patch upon your Face<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wou&#8217;d seem a Foil on one less Fair,</span><br />
+Wou&#8217;d seem a Foil, wou&#8217;d seem a Foil,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wou&#8217;d seem a Foil on one less Fair:</span><br />
+On you it hides a charming Grace,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And you in Pity, you in Pity,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You in Pity plac&#8217;d it there;</span><br />
+On you it hides a Charming Grace,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And you in Pity, you in Pity,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Pity plac&#8217;d it there.</span><br />
+<i>And you in Pity, Pity,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And you in Pity plac&#8217;d it there.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set and Sung by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Leveridge</span> <i>at the</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Theater</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music097.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music097a.png" width="555" height="802" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music097b.png" width="554" height="219" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span><i>RIS</i> beware when <i>Strephon</i> pursues you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis but to boast a Conquest won:</span><br />
+All his Designs are aim&#8217;d to undo you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Break off the Love he has begun:</span><br />
+When he&#8217;s Addressing, and prays for the Blessing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which none but his <i>Iris</i> can give alone;</span><br />
+O then beware, &#8217;tis all to undo you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis but to boast a Conquest won:</span><br />
+She that&#8217;s believing, while he is deceiving,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like many already, will be undone;</span><br />
+<i>Iris</i> beware when <i>Strephon</i> pursues you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis but to boast a Conquest won.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line012.png" width="427" height="158" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Ramondon</span>, <i>Sung at the</i><br />
+Theatre.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music098.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music098.png" width="553" height="786" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>OW charming <i>Phillis</i> is, how Fair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How charming <i>Phillis</i> is, how Fair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O that she were as willing,</span><br />
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make her Eyes less killing;</span><br />
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make her Eyes less killing;</span><br />
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make her Eyes less killing;</span><br />
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make her Eyes less killing.</span><br />
+<br />
+I Sigh, I Sigh, I Languish now,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Love will not let me rest;</span><br />
+I drive about the Park and Bow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where-e&#8217;er I meet my Dearest.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line016.png" width="550" height="49" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Anthony Young</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music099.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music099a.png" width="556" height="334" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music099b.png" width="554" height="386" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span>EASE whining <i>Damon</i> to Complain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of thy Unhappy Fate;</span><br />
+That <i>Sylvia</i> should thy Love disdain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which lasting was and great.</span><br />
+<br />
+For Love so constant flames so bright,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More unsuccessful prove:</span><br />
+Than cold neglect and sudden slight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To gain the Nymph you love.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then only you&#8217;ll obtain the Prize,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When you her Coyness use;</span><br />
+If you pursue the Fair, she flies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But if you fly, pursues.</span><br />
+<br />
+Had <i>Ph&#339;bus</i> not pursu&#8217;d so fast<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The seeming cruel she;</span><br />
+The God a Virgin had embrac&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And not a lifeless Tree.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in the</i> <span class="smcap">Opera</span> <i>call&#8217;d the</i> <span class="smcap">Brittish<br />
+Enchanters</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">J. Eccles</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music100.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music100a.png" width="556" height="856" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music100b.png" width="551" height="493" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">P</span>Lague us not with idle Stories,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whining Loves, whining Loves, whining Loves,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And Senceless Glories.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What are Lovers? what are Kings?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What, at best, but slavish Things?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What are Lovers? what are Kings?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What, at best, but slavish Things?</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What, at best, but slavish Things?</span><br />
+<br />
+Free I liv&#8217;d as Nature made me,<br />
+Love nor Beauty durst invade me,<br />
+No rebellious Slaves betray&#8217;d me,<br />
+Free I liv&#8217;d as Nature made me,<br />
+Each by turns as Sence inspired me,<br />
+<i>Bacchus</i>, <i>Ceres</i>, <i>Venus</i> fir&#8217;d me,<br />
+I alone have learnt true Pleasure,<br />
+Freedom, Freedom, Freedom is the only, only Treasure.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>JUNO <i>in the Prize.</i></h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">John Weldon</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music101.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music101.png" width="554" height="494" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>ET Ambition fire thy Mind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou wert born o&#8217;er Men to Reign;</span><br />
+Not to follow Flocks design&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Scorn thy Crook, and leave the Plain:</span><br />
+Not to follow Flocks design&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Scorn thy Crook, and leave the Plain.</span><br />
+<br />
+Crowns I&#8217;ll throw beneath thy Feet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou on Necks of Kings shalt tread,</span><br />
+Joys in Circles, Joys shall meet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which way e&#8217;re thy fancy leads.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The Beau&#8217;s Character in the Comedy call&#8217;d</i> Hampstead-Heath. <i>Set and
+Sung by Mr.</i> Ramondon.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music102.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music102.png" width="552" height="826" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><span class="dropcap">A</span> Whig that&#8217;s full,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An empty Scull,</span><br />
+A Box of <i>Burgamot</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Hat ne&#8217;er made</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To fit his Head</span><br />
+No more than that to Plot.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Hand that&#8217;s White,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Ring that&#8217;s right,</span><br />
+A Sword, Knot, Patch and Feather;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Gracious Smile,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And Grounds and Oyl,</span><br />
+Do very well together.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A smatch of <i>French</i>,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And none of Sence,</span><br />
+All Conquering Airs and Graces;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Tune that Thrills,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Lear that Kills,</span><br />
+Stoln Flights and borrow&#8217;d Phrases.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Chariot Gilt,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To wait on Jilt,</span><br />
+An awkward Pace and Carriage;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Foreign Tower,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Domestick Whore,</span><br />
+And Mercenary Marriage.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Limber Ham,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">G&mdash;&mdash; D&mdash;&mdash; ye M&#8217;am,</span><br />
+A Smock-Face, tho&#8217; a Tann&#8217;d one;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A Peaceful Sword,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Not one wise Word,</span><br />
+But State and Prate at Random.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Duns, Bastards, Claps,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And Am&#8217;rous Scraps,</span><br />
+Of <i>C&aelig;lia</i> and <i>Amadis</i>;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Toss up a Beau,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That Grand Ragou,</span><br />
+That Hodge-Podge for the Ladies.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in the Innocent Mistress. Set by<br />
+Mr.</i> John Eccles, <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> Hodgson.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music103.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music103a.png" width="554" height="840" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music103b.png" width="553" height="512" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>Hen I languish&#8217;d and wish&#8217;d you wou&#8217;d something bestow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You bad me to give it a Name;</span><br />
+But by Heav&#8217;n I know it as little as you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tho&#8217; my Ignorance passes for Shame:</span><br />
+You take for Devotion each passionate Glance,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And think the dull Fool is sincere;</span><br />
+But never believe that I spake in Romance,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On purpose to tickle, on purpose, on purpose,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On purpose to tickle your Ear:</span><br />
+To please me than more, think still I am true,<br />
+And hug each Apocryphal Text;<br />
+Tho&#8217; I practice a Thousand false Doctrines on you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I shall still have enough, I shall still have enough,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall still have enough for the next.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>VENUS <i>to</i> PARIS <i>in the Prize Musick.<br />
+Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">John Weldon</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music104.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music104a.png" width="555" height="842" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music104b.png" width="549" height="598" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>Ither turn thee, hither turn thee, hither turn thee gentle Swain,<br />
+Hither turn thee, hither turn thee, hither turn thee gentle Swain,<br />
+Let not <i>Venus</i>, let not <i>Venus</i>, let not <i>Venus</i> sue in vain;<br />
+<i>Venus</i> rules, <i>Venus</i> rules, <i>Venus</i> rules the Gods above,<br />
+Love rules them, Love rules them, Love rules them, and she rules Love?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Venus</i> rules the Gods above,</span><br />
+Love rules them, Love rules them, Love rules them,<br />
+Love rules them, Love rules them, and she rules Love.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Love rules them, and she rules Love.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>The Words by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Ward</span>, <i>Set by Mr.</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">Harris</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music105.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music105a.png" width="554" height="826" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music105b.png" width="553" height="309" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">B</span><i>Elinda</i>! why do you distrust,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So faithful and so kind a Heart:</span><br />
+Which cannot prove to you unjust,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But must it self endure the smart:</span><br />
+No, no, no, no the wandring Stars,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall sooner cease their Motion;</span><br />
+And Nature reconcile the Jars,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Twixt <i>Boreas</i> and the Ocean:</span><br />
+The fixed Poles shall seem to move,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ramble from their Places;</span><br />
+E&#8217;er I&#8217;ll from fair <i>Belinda</i> rove,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or slight her charming Graces.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco021.png" width="112" height="184" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> William Turner.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music106.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music106.png" width="549" height="412" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>ONG was the Day e&#8217;re <i>Alexis</i> my Lover,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To finish my Hopes would his Passion reveal;</span><br />
+He could not speak, nor I could not discover,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What my poor aking Heart was so loath to conceal:</span><br />
+Till the Strength of his Passion his Fear had remov&#8217;d,<br />
+Then we mutually talk&#8217;d, and we mutually lov&#8217;d.<br />
+<br />
+Groves for Umbrella&#8217;s did kindly o&#8217;er-shade us,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From <i>Ph&#339;bus</i> hot rages, who like envy in strove;</span><br />
+Had not kind Fate this Provision made us,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All the Nymphs of the Air would have envy&#8217;d our Love:</span><br />
+But we stand below Envy that ill-natur&#8217;d Fate,<br />
+And above cruel Scorn is happy Estate.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set to Musick by Mr.</i> John Eccles.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music107.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music107a.png" width="559" height="819" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music107b.png" width="557" height="964" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>S <i>Cupid</i> roguishly one Day,<br />
+Had all alone stole out to play;<br />
+The <i>Muses</i> caught the little, little, little Knave,<br />
+And captive Love to Beauty gave:<br />
+The <i>Muses</i> caught the little, little, little Knave,<br />
+And captive Love to Beauty gave:<br />
+The laughing Dame soon miss&#8217;d her Son,<br />
+And here and there, and here and there,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And here and there distracted run;</span><br />
+Distracted run, and here and there,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And here and there, and here and there distracted run:</span><br />
+And still his Liberty to gain, his Liberty to gain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Offers his Ransom,</span><br />
+But in vain, in vain, in vain;<br />
+The willing, willing Prisoner still hugs his Chain,<br />
+And Vows he&#8217;ll ne&#8217;er be free,<br />
+And Vows he&#8217;ll ne&#8217;er be free,<br />
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,<br />
+No, no, no, no, no he&#8217;ll ne&#8217;er be free again,<br />
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,<br />
+No, no, no, no, no he&#8217;ll ne&#8217;er be free again.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>Old</i> <span class="smcap">Soldiers</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music108.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music108.png" width="556" height="166" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">O</span>F old Soldiers, the Song you would hear,<br />
+And we old Fidlers have forgot who they were,<br />
+But all we remember shall come to your Ear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>That we are old Soldiers of the Queens,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>And the Queens old Soldiers.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span>With the <i>Old Drake</i>, that was the next Man<br />
+To <i>Old Franciscus</i>, who first it began,<br />
+To sail through the Streights of <i>Magellan</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+That put the proud <i>Spanish Armado</i> to wrack,<br />
+And Travell&#8217;d all o&#8217;er the old World, and came back,<br />
+In his old Ship, laden with Gold and old Sack,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+With an <i>Old Cavendish</i>, that seconded him,<br />
+And taught his old Sails the same Passage to swim,<br />
+And did them therefore with Cloth of Gold Trim,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Like an <i>Old Rawleigh</i>, that twice and again,<br />
+Sailed over most part of the <i>Seas</i>, and then<br />
+Travell&#8217;d all o&#8217;er the World with his Pen,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+With an <i>Old John Norris</i>, the General,<br />
+That at old <i>Gaunt</i>, made his Fame Immortal,<br />
+In spight of his Foes, with no loss at all,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Like <i>Old Brest Fort</i>, an invincible thing,<br />
+When the old <i>Queen</i> sent him to help the <i>French</i> King,<br />
+Took from the proud <i>Fox</i>, to the World&#8217;s wond&#8217;ring,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Where an old stout <i>Fryer</i>, as goes the Story,<br />
+Came to push of Pike with him in Vain-glory,<br />
+But he was almost sent to his own <i>Purgatory</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>By this old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+With an <i>Old Ned Norris</i>, that kept <i>Ostend</i>,<br />
+A terror to Foe, and a Refuge to Friend,<br />
+And left it Impregnable to his last End,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+That in the old unfortunate Voyage of all,<br />
+March&#8217;d o&#8217;er the old Bridge, and knock&#8217;d at the Wall,<br />
+Of <i>Lisbon</i>, the Mistress of <i>Portugal</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span>With an <i>Old Tim Norris</i>, by the old <i>Queen</i> sent,<br />
+Of <i>Munster</i> in <i>Ireland</i>, Lord President,<br />
+Where his Days and his Blood in her service he spent,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+With an <i>Old Harry Norris</i>, in Battle wounded,<br />
+In his Knee, whose Leg was cut off, and he said,<br />
+You have spoil&#8217;d my Dancing, and dy&#8217;d in his Bed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+With an <i>Old Will Norris</i>, the oldest of all,<br />
+Who went voluntary, without any Call,<br />
+To th&#8217; old <i>Irish</i> Wars, to&#8217;s Fame Immortal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+With an <i>Old Dick Wenman</i>, the first in his Prime,<br />
+That over the Walls of old <i>Cales</i> did Clime,<br />
+And there was Knighted, and liv&#8217;d all his Time,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Like an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+With <i>Old Nando Wenman</i>, when <i>Brest</i> was o&#8217;er thrown,<br />
+Into the Air, into the Seas, with Gunpowder blown,<br />
+Yet bravely recovering, long after was known,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>For an Old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+When an <i>Old Tom Wenman</i>, whose bravest delight,<br />
+Was in a good Cause for his Country to Fight,<br />
+And dy&#8217;d in <i>Ireland</i>, a good old Knight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>And an old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+With a Young <i>Ned Wenman</i>, so valiant and bold,<br />
+In the Wars of <i>Bohemia</i>, as with the Old,<br />
+Deserves for his Valour to be Enroll&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>An old Soldier</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And thus of Old Soldiers, ye hear the Fame,<br />
+But ne&#8217;er so many of one House and Name,<br />
+And all of old <i>John Lord Viscount</i> of <i>Thame</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>An old Soldier of the Queens,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>And the Queens old Soldier.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>On the Tombs in</i> Westminster Abby.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hang"><i>You must suppose it to be</i> Easter <i>Holy-Days: At what time</i> Sisly
+<i>and</i> Dol, Kate <i>and</i> Peggy, Moll <i>and</i> Nan, <i>are marching to</i>
+Westminster, <i>with a Leash of Prentices before &#8217;em; who go rowing
+themselves along with their right Arms to make more hast, and now and
+then with a greasie Muckender wipe away the dripping that bastes their
+Foreheads. At the Door they meet a crowd of</i> Wapping <i>Sea-men</i>,
+Southwark <i>Broom-men, the Inhabitants of the</i> Bank-Side, <i>with a
+Butcher or two prickt in among them. There a while they stand gaping
+for the Master of the Show, staring upon the Suburbs of their dearest
+delight, just as they stand gaping upon the painted Cloth before they
+go into the Puppet Play. By and by they hear the Bunch of Keys, which
+rejoyces their Hearts like the sound of the</i> Pancake-Bell. <i>For now
+the Man of Comfort peeps over the Spikes, and beholding such a learned
+Auditory, opens the Gate of</i> Paradise, <i>and by that time they are half
+got into the first Chapel, (for time is very precious) he lifts up his
+Voice among the Tombs, and begins his Lurrey in manner and form
+following.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>To the foregoing Tune; In Imitation of the Old Soldiers.</i></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>ERE lies <i>William de Valence</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A right good Earl of <i>Pembroke</i>,</span><br />
+And this is his Monument which you see,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll swear upon a Book.</span><br />
+<br />
+He was high Marshal of <i>England</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When <i>Henry</i> the Third did Reign;</span><br />
+But this you take upon my Word,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he&#8217;ll ne&#8217;er be so again.</span><br />
+<br />
+Here the Lord <i>Edward Talbot</i> lies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Town of <i>Shrewsbury&#8217;s</i> Earl;</span><br />
+Together with his Countess fair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That was a most delicate Girl.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span>The next to him there lyeth one,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sir <i>Richard Peckshall</i> hight;</span><br />
+Of whom we only this do say,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was a <i>Hampshire</i> Knight.</span><br />
+<br />
+But now to tell you more of him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There lies beneath this Stone:</span><br />
+Two Wives of his, and Daughters four,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To all of Us unknown.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sir <i>Bernard Brockhurst</i> there doth lie,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lord Chamberlain to Queen <i>Ann</i>;</span><br />
+Queen <i>Ann</i> was <i>Richard</i> the Second&#8217;s Queen,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And was King of <i>England</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sir <i>Francis Hollis</i>, the Lady <i>Frances</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The same was <i>Suffolk&#8217;s</i> Dutchess;</span><br />
+Two Children of <i>Edward</i> the Third,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lie here in Death&#8217;s cold Clutches.</span><br />
+<br />
+This is the Third King <i>Edward&#8217;s</i> Brother,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of whom our Records tell</span><br />
+Nothing of Note, nor say they whether,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He be in Heaven or Hell.</span><br />
+<br />
+This same was <i>John</i> of <i>Eldeston</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was no Costermonger;</span><br />
+But <i>Cornwall&#8217;s</i> Earl, and here&#8217;s one dy&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Cause he could live no longer.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Lady <i>Mohun</i>, Dutchess of <i>York</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Duke of <i>York&#8217;s</i> Wife also;</span><br />
+But Death resolv&#8217;d to Horn the Duke,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She lies now with Death below.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Lady <i>Ann Ross</i>, but wot ye well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That she in Childbed dy&#8217;d;</span><br />
+The Lady Marquiss of <i>Winchester</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lies Buried by her side.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span>Now think your Penny well spent good Folks,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that you&#8217;re not beguil&#8217;d;</span><br />
+Within this Cup doth lie the Heart<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of a <i>French Embassador&#8217;s</i> Child.</span><br />
+<br />
+But how the Devil it came to pass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On purpose, or by chance;</span><br />
+<span class="sidenote">Dol. <i>I warrant ye the</i> Pharises <i>carried it away.</i></span>The Bowels they lie underneath,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Body is in <i>France</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There&#8217;s <i>Oxford&#8217;s</i> Countess, and there also<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lady <i>Burleigh</i> her Mother;</span><br />
+And there her Daughter, a Countess too,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lie close by one another.</span><br />
+<br />
+These once were bonny Dames, and tho&#8217;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There were no Coaches then,</span><br />
+<span class="sidenote">Dick. <i>Ho, ho, ho, I warrant ye they did as other Women
+did, ha</i> Ralf. Ralf. <i>Oy, Oy.</i></span>Yet could they jog their Tails themselves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or had them jogg&#8217;d by Men.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But woe is me! those high born Sinners;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That went to pray so stoutly;</span><br />
+Are now laid low, and &#8217;cause they can&#8217;t,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their Statues pray devoutly.</span><br />
+<br />
+This is the Dutchess of <i>Somerset</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Name the Lady <i>Ann</i>;</span><br />
+<span class="sidenote">Tom. <i>I have heard a Ballad of him sang at</i> Ratcliff Cross.
+Mol. <i>I believe we have it at home over our Kitchin Mantle-Tree.</i></span>Her Lord <i>Edward</i> the Sixth Protected,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! he was a Gallant Man.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In this fair Monument which you see,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adorn&#8217;d with so many Pillars;</span><br />
+Doth lie the Countess of <i>Buckingham</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her Husband, Sir <i>George Villers</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+This old Sir <i>George</i> was Grandfather,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Countess she was Granny;</span><br />
+To the great Duke of <i>Buckingham</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who often topt King <i>Jammy</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span>Sir <i>Robert Eatam</i>, a <i>Scotch</i> Knight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This Man was Secretary;</span><br />
+And scribl&#8217;d Compliments for two Queens,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Queen <i>Ann</i>, and eke Queen <i>Mary</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+This was the Countess of <i>Lenox</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yclep&#8217;d the Lady <i>Marget</i>:</span><br />
+King <i>James&#8217;s</i> Grandmother, and yet<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Gainst Death she had no Target.</span><br />
+<br />
+This was Queen <i>Mary</i>, Queen of <i>Scots</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom <i>Buchanan</i> doth bespatter;</span><br />
+<span class="sidenote">Dol. <i>How came she here then?</i> Will. <i>Why ye silly Oafe
+could not she be brought here, after she was Dead?</i></span>She lost her Head at <i>Tottingham</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What ever was the Matter.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Mother of our Seventh <i>Henry</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This is that lyeth hard by;</span><br />
+She was the Countess wot ye well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of <i>Richmond</i> and of <i>Derby</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Henry</i> the Seventh lieth here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With his fair Queen beside him,</span><br />
+He was the Founder of this Chapel,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! may no ill betide him.</span><br />
+<br />
+Therefore his Monument&#8217;s in Brass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You&#8217;ll say that very much is;</span><br />
+<span class="sidenote">Rog. <i>I warrant ye these were no small Fools in those
+days.</i></span>The Duke of <i>Richmond</i> and <i>Lenox</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There lieth with his Dutchess.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And here they stand upright in a Press<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Bodies made of Wax;</span><br />
+With a Globe and a Wand in either Hand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And their Robes upon their Backs.</span><br />
+<br />
+Here lies the Duke of <i>Buckingham</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Dutchess his Wife;</span><br />
+Him <i>Felton</i> Stabb&#8217;d at <i>Portsmouth</i> Town,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so he lost his Life.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span>Two Children of King <i>James</i> these are,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom Death keeps very chary;</span><br />
+<span class="sidenote">Bess. <i>Good Woman pray still your Child, it keeps such a
+bawling, we can&#8217;t hear what the Man says.</i></span><i>Sophia</i> in the Cradle lies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And this is the Lady <i>Mary</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And this is Queen <i>Elizabeth</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How the <i>Spaniards</i> did infest her?</span><br />
+Here she lies Buried, with Queen <i>Mary</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And now agrees with her Sister.</span><br />
+<br />
+To another Chapel now we come,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The People follow and chat;</span><br />
+This is the Lady <i>Cottington</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the People cry, who&#8217;s that?</span><br />
+<br />
+This is the Lady <i>Frances Sidney</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Countess of <i>Suffolk</i> was she;</span><br />
+And this the Lord <i>Dudley Carleton</i> is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then they look up and see.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sir <i>Thomas Brumley</i> lieth here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Death would him not reprieve;</span><br />
+With his four Sons, and Daughters four,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That once were all alive.</span><br />
+<br />
+The next is Sir <i>John Fullerton</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And this is his Lady I trow;</span><br />
+And this is Sir <i>John Puckering</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom none of you did know.</span><br />
+<br />
+That&#8217;s the Earl of <i>Bridgwater</i> in the middle,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who makes no use of his Bladder;</span><br />
+Although his Lady lie so near him,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so we go up a Ladder.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="sidenote">Kate. <i>He took more pains, than I would ha done for a
+Hundred such.</i></span><i>Edward</i> the First, that Gallant Blade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lies underneath this Stone;</span><br />
+And this is the Chair which he did bring,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A good while ago from <i>Scone</i>.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="sidenote">Ralf. <i>Gad I warrant there has been many a Maiden-head got
+in that Chair.</i> Tom. <i>Gad and I&#8217;ll come hither and try one of these
+Days, an&#8217;t be but to get a Prince.</i> Dol. <i>A</i> Papist <i>I warrant him.</i></span>In this same Chair, till now of late,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Kings and Queens were Crown&#8217;d;</span><br />
+Under this Chair another Stone<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doth lie upon the Ground.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On that same Stone did <i>Jacob</i> sleep,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Instead of a Down Pillow;</span><br />
+And after that &#8217;twas hither brought,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By some good honest Fellow.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Richard</i> the Second lieth here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his first Queen, Queen <i>Ann</i>;</span><br />
+<i>Edward</i> the Third lies here hard by,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! there was a Gallant Man.</span><br />
+<br />
+For this was his two handed Sword,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Blade both true and Trusty;</span><br />
+The <i>French</i> Men&#8217;s Blood was ne&#8217;er wip&#8217;d off,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which makes it look so rusty.</span><br />
+<br />
+Here he lies again, with his Queen <i>Philip</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A <i>Dutch</i> Woman by Record,</span><br />
+But that&#8217;s all one, for now alass!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His Blade&#8217;s not so long as his Sword.</span><br />
+<br />
+King <i>Edward</i> the Confessor lies<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within this Monument fine;</span><br />
+I&#8217;m sure, quoth one, a worser Tomb<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must serve both me and mine.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Harry</i> the Fifth lies there, and there<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doth lie Queen <i>Eleanor</i>;</span><br />
+To our first <i>Edward</i> she was Wife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which was more than ye knew before.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Henry</i> the Third lies there Entomb&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was Herb <i>John</i> in Pottage;</span><br />
+Little he did, but still Reign&#8217;d on,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Although his Sons were at Age.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span>Fifty six Years he Reigned King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E&#8217;er he the Crown would lay by;</span><br />
+Only we praise him, &#8217;cause he was<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Last Builder of the <i>Abby</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+Here <i>Thomas Cecil</i> lies, who&#8217;s that?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why &#8217;tis the Earl of <i>Exeter</i>;</span><br />
+<span class="sidenote">Dol. <i>Ay, ay, I warrant her, rich Folks are as unwilling to
+die as poor Folks.</i></span>And this his Countess is, to Die<br />
+How it perplexed her.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here <i>Henry Cary</i>, Lord <i>Hunsdon</i> rests,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What a noise he makes with his Name?</span><br />
+<span class="sidenote">Sisly. <i>That&#8217;s he for whom our Bells ring so often, is it
+not</i> Mary? Mol. <i>Ay, ay, the very same.</i></span>Lord Chamberlain was he unto<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Queen <i>Elizabeth</i> of great Fame.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And here&#8217;s one <i>William Colchester</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lies of a Certainty;</span><br />
+An Abbot was he of <i>Westminster</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he that saith no, doth lie.</span><br />
+<br />
+This is the Bishop of <i>Durham</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By Death here lay&#8217;d in Fetters;</span><br />
+<i>Henry</i> the Seventh lov&#8217;d him well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so he wrote his Letters.</span><br />
+<br />
+Sir <i>Thomas Bacchus</i>, what of him?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poor Gentleman not a Word;</span><br />
+Only they Buried him here; but now<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Behold that Man with a Sword.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Humphry de Bohun</i>, who though he were<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not born with me i&#8217;the same Town;</span><br />
+Yet I can tell he was Earl of <i>Essex</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of <i>Hertford</i>, and <i>Northampton</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+He was High Constable of <i>England</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As History well expresses;</span><br />
+But now pretty Maids be of good Chear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We&#8217;re going up to the Presses.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span>And now the Presses open stand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ye see them all arow;</span><br />
+But never no more are said of these<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then what is said below.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now down the Stairs come we again,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Man goes first with a Staff;</span><br />
+Some two or three tumble down the Stairs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And then the People laugh.</span><br />
+<br />
+This is the great Sir <i>Francis Vere</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That so the <i>Spaniards</i> curry&#8217;d;</span><br />
+Four Colonels support his Tomb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And here his Body&#8217;s Buried.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="sidenote">Dick. <i>I warrant ye he had two, if he could have but kep&#8217;d
+&#8217;em.</i></span>That <i>Statue</i> against the <i>Wall</i> with one Eye,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is Major General <i>Norris</i>;</span><br />
+He beat the <i>Spaniards</i> cruelly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As is affirm&#8217;d in Stories.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His six Sons there hard by him stand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each one was a Commander;</span><br />
+To shew he could a Lady serve,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As well as the <i>Hollander</i>.</span><br />
+<br />
+And there doth Sir <i>John Hollis</i> rest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who was the Major General;</span><br />
+To Sir <i>John Norris</i>, that brave blade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so they go to Dinner all.</span><br />
+<br />
+For now the Shew is at an end,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All things are done and said;</span><br />
+The Citizen pays for his Wife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Prentice for the Maid.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco011.png" width="62" height="64" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Campion</span>, <i>in the Comedy call&#8217;d</i>, she wou&#8217;d and
+she wou&#8217;d not. <i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">John Weldon</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music109.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music109a.png" width="558" height="836" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music109b.png" width="557" height="955" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music109c.png" width="552" height="362" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span><i>&AElig;LIA</i> my Heart has often rang&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like Bees o&#8217;er Gaudy Flowers;</span><br />
+And many Thousand Loves have chang&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Till it was fix&#8217;d, &#8217;till it was fix&#8217;d on yours;</span><br />
+But <i>C&aelig;lia</i> when I saw those Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Twas soon, &#8217;twas soon determin&#8217;d there;</span><br />
+Stars might as well forsake the Skies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Vanish into Air:</span><br />
+Stars might as well forsake the Skies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Vanish into Air.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now if from the great Rules I err,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">New Beauties, new Beauties to admire;</span><br />
+May I again, again turn wanderer,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never, never, never, never, never, no, never,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never, never, never, never, never, never, never,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never, never, never, settle more:</span><br />
+May I again, again turn wanderer,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never, never, never, never, never, no, never,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never, never, never, never, never, never, never,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never, never, never, settle more.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>made for the Entertainment of her Royal Highness. Set by
+Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Leveridge</span>. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Lindsey</span> <i>in</i> <span class="smcap">Caligula</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music110.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music110a.png" width="556" height="810" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music110b.png" width="556" height="947" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music110c.png" width="554" height="285" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>Ho&#8217; over all Mankind, besides my conquering Beauty,<br />
+Conquering beauty, my conquering beauty Reigns;<br />
+My conquering Beauty Reigns;<br />
+From him I love, from him I love when I meet disdain,<br />
+A killing damp, a killing damp comes o&#8217;er my Pride:<br />
+I&#8217;m fair and young, I&#8217;m fair and young,<br />
+I&#8217;m fair and young in vain:<br />
+I&#8217;m fair and young, I&#8217;m fair and young,<br />
+I&#8217;m fair and young in vain;<br />
+No, no, no, let him wander where he will,<br />
+Let him wander, let him wander,<br />
+Let him wander, let him wander where he will,<br />
+I shall have Youth and Beauty, Youth and Beauty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Youth and Beauty,</span><br />
+I shall have Youth and Beauty, Youth and Beauty still;<br />
+I shall have Beauty that can charm a <i>Jove</i>,<br />
+Can Charm a <i>Jove</i>, and no fault,<br />
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no fault, no, no, no fault,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But constant Love:</span><br />
+From my Arms then let him fly, fly, fly,<br />
+From my Arms then let him fly;<br />
+Shall I languish, pine, and dye?<br />
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no not I.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in the Fair</i> <span class="smcap">Penitent</span>. <i>Set by<br />
+Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Eccles</span>. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Hudson</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music111.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music111a.png" width="551" height="827" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music111b.png" width="555" height="954" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music111c.png" width="554" height="957" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music111d.png" width="554" height="212" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">S</span>TAY, ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou&#8217;d you fly?<br />
+Ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou&#8217;d you fly?<br />
+Whither, whither wou&#8217;d you fly?<br />
+Too Charming, too Charming, too relentless Maid,<br />
+I follow not to conquer, not to conquer,<br />
+I follow not to conquer, but to dye:<br />
+You of the fearful, of the fearful are afraid,<br />
+Ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou&#8217;d you fly?<br />
+Whither, whither, whither, whither, ah whither wou&#8217;d you fly?<br />
+<br />
+In vain, in vain I call, in vain, in vain I call,<br />
+While she like fleeting, fleeting Air;<br />
+When press&#8217;d by some tempestuous Wind,<br />
+Flys swifter from the voice of my Despair:<br />
+Nor cast a pitying, pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,<br />
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying look,<br />
+Not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,<br />
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,<br />
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco003.png" width="94" height="52" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A new</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>The Words by Mr.</i> Tho. Wall. <i>Set to Musick by Mr.</i>
+Henry Eccles, <i>Junior.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music112.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music112.png" width="553" height="857" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">N</span>O more let <i>Damon&#8217;s</i> Eyes pursue,<br />
+No more let <i>Damon&#8217;s</i> Eyes pursue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The bright enchanting Fair;</span><br />
+<i>Almira</i> thousands, thousands, thousands can undo,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thousands more, and thousands more,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thousands more may still despair,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thousands more may still despair.</span><br />
+<br />
+For oh her bright alluring Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Graces all admire;</span><br />
+For her the wounded Lover dies,<br />
+And ev&#8217;ry Breast, and ev&#8217;ry Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And ev&#8217;ry Breast is set on Fire.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then oh poor <i>Damon</i>, see thy Fate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But never more complain;</span><br />
+For all a Thousand Hearts will stake,<br />
+And all may sigh, and all may die,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all may sigh and die in vain.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line013.png" width="554" height="37" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dear Joy&#8217;s</span> <i>Lamentation.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music113.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music113.png" width="554" height="332" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>O my dear Joy, now what dost thou think?<br />
+Hoop by my shoul our Country-men stink;<br />
+To <i>Ireland</i> they can never return,<br />
+The Hereticks there our Houses will burn:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ah hone, ah hone, ah hone a cree.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+A Pox on <i>T&mdash;&mdash;l</i> for a Son of a W&mdash;&mdash;,<br />
+He was the cause of our coming o&#8217;er;<br />
+And when to <i>Dublin</i> we came to put on our Coats,<br />
+He told us his business was cutting of Throats.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ah hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Our Devil has left us now in the Lurch,<br />
+A Plague light upon the <i>Protestant</i> C&mdash;&mdash;<br />
+If <i>P&mdash;&mdash;s</i> had let but the Bishops alone,<br />
+O then the Nation had all been our own.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ah hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+And I wish other Measures had been taken,<br />
+For now I fear we shan&#8217;t save our Bacon;<br />
+Now <i>Orange</i> to <i>London</i> is coming down-right,<br />
+And the Soldiers against him resolve not to Fight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ah hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+What we shall do, the Lord himself knows,<br />
+Our Army is beaten without any blows;<br />
+Our M&mdash;&mdash;r begins to feel some remorse,<br />
+For the Grey Mare has proved the better Horse.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ah hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+If the <i>French</i> do but come, which is all our Hopes,<br />
+We&#8217;ll bundle the Hereticks all up with Ropes;<br />
+If <i>London</i> stands to us as <i>Bristol</i> has done,<br />
+We need not fear but <i>Orange</i> must run.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Ah hone</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+But if they prove false, and to <i>Orange</i> they scower,<br />
+By G&mdash;&mdash; all the M&mdash;&mdash; shall play from the <i>Tower</i>;<br />
+Our Massacree fresh in their Memories grown,<br />
+The Devil tauk me, we all shall go down.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>A hone, a hone, a hone a Cree.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The Character of a</i> Seat&#8217;s-man; <i>written by one of the</i> <span class="smcap">Craft</span>: <i>To be
+Sung on</i> <span class="smcap">Crispin</span>-Night. <i>Tune</i> Packington&#8217;s Pound.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music114.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music114.png" width="555" height="562" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span> Am one in whom Nature has fix&#8217;d a Decree,<br />
+Ordaining my Life to happy and free;<br />
+With no Cares of the World I am never perplex&#8217;d,<br />
+And never depending, I never am vex&#8217;d:<br />
+I&#8217;m neither of so high nor so low a degree,<br />
+But Ambition and Want are both strangers to me;<br />
+My life is a compound of Freedom and Ease,<br />
+I go where I will, and I work when I please:<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span>I live above Envy, and yet above Spight,<br />
+And have Judgment enough for to do my self right;<br />
+Some greater and richer I own there may be,<br />
+Yet as many live worse, as live better than me,<br />
+And few that from Cares live so quiet and free.<br />
+<br />
+When Money comes in I live well &#8217;till it&#8217;s gone,<br />
+So with it I&#8217;m happy, Content when I&#8217;ve none:<br />
+I spend it Genteelly, and never repent,<br />
+If I lose it at Play, why I count it but Lent:<br />
+For that which at one time I Lose among Friends,<br />
+Another Night&#8217;s Winnings still makes me amends:<br />
+And though I&#8217;m without the first Day of the Week,<br />
+I still make it out by Shift or by Tick:<br />
+In Mirth at my Work the swift Hours do pass,<br />
+And by <i>Saturday</i> Night, I&#8217;m as rich as I was.<br />
+<br />
+Then let Masters drudge on, and be Slaves to their Trade,<br />
+Let their Hours of Pleasure by Business be stay&#8217;d;<br />
+Let them venture their Stocks to be ruin&#8217;d by Trust,<br />
+Let Clickers bark on the whole Day at their Post:<br />
+Let &#8217;em tire all that pass with their rotified Cant,<br />
+&#8220;Will you buy any Shoes, pray see what you want&#8221;;<br />
+Let the rest of the World still contend to be great,<br />
+Let some by their Losses repine at their Fate:<br />
+Let others that Thrive, not content with their store,<br />
+Be plagu&#8217;d with the Trouble and Thoughts to get more.<br />
+<br />
+Let wise Men invent, &#8217;till the World be deceived,<br />
+Let Fools thrive thro&#8217; Fortune, and Knaves be believed;<br />
+Let such as are rich know no Want, but Content,<br />
+Let others be plagu&#8217;d to pay Taxes and Rent:<br />
+With more Freedom and Pleasure my Time I&#8217;ll employ,<br />
+And covet no Blessings but what we enjoy.<br />
+<br />
+Then let&#8217;s celebrate <i>Crispin</i> with Bumpers and Songs,<br />
+And they that drink Foul, may it blister their Tongues,<br />
+Here&#8217;s two in a Hand, and let no one deny &#8217;em,<br />
+Since <i>Crispin</i> in Youth was a <i>Seat&#8217;s-man</i> as I am.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Female Scuffle. To the foregoing Tune.</i></h2>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">O</span>F late in the Park a fair Fancy was seen,<br />
+Betwixt an old <i>Baud</i> and a lusty young <i>Quean</i>;<br />
+Their parting of Money began the uproar,<br />
+I&#8217;ll have half says the <i>Baud</i>, but you shan&#8217;t says the <i>Whore</i>:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Why &#8217;tis my own House,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I care not a Louse,</span><br />
+I&#8217;ll ha&#8217; three parts in four, or you get not a Souse.<br />
+<br />
+&#8217;Tis I, says the <i>Whore</i>, must take all the Pains,<br />
+And you shall be damn&#8217;d e&#8217;er you get all the Gains;<br />
+The <i>Baud</i> being vex&#8217;d, straight to her did say,<br />
+Come off wi&#8217; your <i>Duds</i>, and I pray pack away,<br />
+And likewise your <i>Ribbonds</i>, your <i>Gloves</i>, and your <i>Hair</i>,<br />
+For naked you came, and so out you go bare;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then <i>Buttocks</i> so bold,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Began for to Scold,</span><br />
+<i>Hurrydan</i> was not able her <i>Clack</i> for to hold.<br />
+<br />
+Both <i>Pell-Mell</i> fell to&#8217;t, and made this uproar,<br />
+With these Compliments, th&#8217;art a <i>Baud</i>, th&#8217;art a <i>Whore</i>:<br />
+The <i>Bauds</i> and the <i>Buttocks</i> that liv&#8217;d there around,<br />
+Came all to the Case, both <i>Pockey</i> and <i>Sound</i>,<br />
+To see what the reason was of this same Fray,<br />
+That did so disturb them before it was Day;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If I tell you amiss,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let me never more Piss,</span><br />
+This <i>Buttocks</i> so bold she named was <i>Siss</i>.<br />
+<br />
+By <i>Quiffing</i> with <i>Cullies</i> three Pound she had got,<br />
+And but one part of four must fall to her Lot;<br />
+Yet all the <i>Bauds</i> cry&#8217;d, let us turn her out bare,<br />
+Unless she will yield to return her half share;<br />
+If she will not, we&#8217;ll help to strip off her Cloaths,<br />
+And turn her abroad with a slit o&#8217; the Nose:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who when she did see,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There was no Remedy,</span><br />
+For her from the Tyranous <i>Bauds</i> to get free;<br />
+The <i>Whore</i> from the Money was forced to yield,<br />
+And in the Conclusion the <i>Baud</i> got the Field.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>An Elegy on</i> <span class="smcap">Mountfort</span>. <i>To the foregoing Tune.</i></h2>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">P</span>OOR <i>Mountfort</i> is gone, and the Ladies do all<br />
+Break their Hearts for this Beau, as they did for <i>Duvall</i>;<br />
+And they the two Brats for this Tragedy damn<br />
+At <i>Kensington</i> Court, and the Court of <i>Bantam</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They all vow and Swear,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That if any Peer,</span><br />
+Should acquit this young Lord, he shou&#8217;d pay very dear;<br />
+Nor will they be pleased with him who on the Throne is,<br />
+If he do&#8217;s not his part to revenge their <i>Adonis</i>.<br />
+<br />
+With the Widow their amorous Bowels do yearn,<br />
+There are divers pretend to an equal Concern;<br />
+And by her Perswasion their Hearts they reveal,<br />
+In case if not guilty, to bring an Appeal:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They all will unite,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The young Blade to indite,</span><br />
+And in Prosecution will joyn Day and Night;<br />
+In the mean time full many a Tear and a Groan is,<br />
+Wherever they meet, for their departed <i>Adonis</i>.<br />
+<br />
+With the Ladies foul Murther&#8217;s a horrible Sin<br />
+Of one Handsome without, tho&#8217; a Coxcomb within;<br />
+For not being a Beau, the sad Fate of poor <i>Crab</i>,<br />
+Tho&#8217; himself hang&#8217;d for Love, was a Jest to each Drab;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then may <i>Jering</i> live long,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And may <i>Risby</i> among</span><br />
+The Fair with <i>Jack Barkley</i>, and <i>Culpepper</i> throng:<br />
+May no Ruffin whose Heart as hard as a Stone is,<br />
+Kill any of those for a Brother <i>Adonis</i>.<br />
+<br />
+No Lady henceforth can be safe with her Beau,<br />
+They think if this Slaughter unpunish&#8217;d should go;<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span>Their Gallants, for whose Persons they most are in Pain,<br />
+Must no sooner be envy&#8217;d, but strait must be Slain:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For all <i>B&mdash;&mdash;</i> shape,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">None car&#8217;d for the Rape,</span><br />
+Nor whether the Virtuous their Lust did escape;<br />
+Their Trouble of Mind, and their anguish alone is,<br />
+For the too sudden Fate of departed <i>Adonis</i>.<br />
+<br />
+Let not every vain Spark think that he can engage,<br />
+The Heart of a Female, like one on the Stage;<br />
+His Flute, and his Voice, and his Dancing are rare,<br />
+And wherever they meet, they prevail with the Fair:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But no quality Fop,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Charms like Mr. <i>Hop</i>,</span><br />
+Adorn&#8217;d on the Stage, and in <i>East-India</i> Shop;<br />
+So that each from <i>Miss Felton</i>, to ancient <i>Drake Joan</i> is,<br />
+Bemoaning the Death of the Player <i>Adonis</i>.<br />
+<br />
+Yet <i>Adonis</i> in spight of this new Abjuration,<br />
+Did banter the lawful King of this great Nation:<br />
+Who call&#8217;d God&#8217;s anointed a foolish old Prig,<br />
+Was both a base and unmannerly <i>Whigg</i>:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But since he is Dead</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No more shall be said,</span><br />
+For he in Repentance has laid down his Head;<br />
+So I wish each Lady, who in mournful Tone is,<br />
+In Charity Grieve for the Death of <i>Adonis</i>.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco017.png" width="96" height="97" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">James Townshend</span>, <i>Organist<br />
+of</i> <span class="smcap">Lyn Riges</span>. <i>The Words by</i> J.R.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music115.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music115.png" width="556" height="749" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">F</span>LY <i>Damon</i> fly, &#8217;tis Death to stay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor listen to the <i>Syren&#8217;s</i> Song;</span><br />
+Nor hear her warbling Fingers play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That kills in Consort with her Tongue:</span><br />
+Oft to despairing Shepherds Verse,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unmov&#8217;d she tunes the trembling Strings;</span><br />
+Oft does some pitying Words rehearse,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But little means the thing she Sings.</span><br />
+<br />
+Cease on her lovely Looks to gaze,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor court your Ruin in her Eyes;</span><br />
+Her Looks too &#8217;s dangerous as her Face,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At once engages and Destroys:</span><br />
+Speak not if you&#8217;d avoid your Fate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For then she darts Resentment home;</span><br />
+But fly, fly <i>Damon</i> e&#8217;er too late,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or else be Deaf, be Blind, be Dumb.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line023.png" width="525" height="83" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Mercury</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Paris</span>, <i>in the Prize Musick,<br />
+Compos&#8217;d by Mr.</i> John Eccles.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music116.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music116a.png" width="556" height="232" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music116b.png" width="551" height="328" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">F</span>EAR not Mortal, none shall harm thee,<br />
+With this Sacred Rod I&#8217;ll Charm thee;<br />
+Freely gaze, and view all over,<br />
+Thou mayst every Grace discover:<br />
+Though a thousand Darts fly round thee,<br />
+Fear not Mortal, none can Wound thee;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Though a thousand Darts fly round thee,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Fear not Mortal, none can Wound thee.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco019.png" width="164" height="116" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> W. Morley.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music117.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music117.png" width="559" height="852" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">B</span>ORN to surprize the World,<br />
+Born to surprize the World, and teach the Great,<br />
+The slippery Danger of exalted State;<br />
+Victorious <i>Marlborough</i>, Victorious <i>Marlborough</i>, to Battle flies,<br />
+Arm&#8217;d, Arm&#8217;d with new Lightning from bright <i>Anna&#8217;s</i> Eyes:<br />
+Wonders, Wonders like these no former Age has seen,<br />
+The Subjects Heroes, the Subjects Heroes, and a Saint the Queen.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line021.png" width="508" height="74" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> J. ISUM.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music118.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music118a.png" width="557" height="441" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music118b.png" width="558" height="550" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span>N vain, in vain, in vain, in vain, in vain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In vain the God I ask,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He&#8217;ll ne&#8217;er remove the Dart;</span><br />
+And still I love the pretty, pretty Boy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Altho&#8217;, altho&#8217; he wound my Heart:</span><br />
+Henceforth I&#8217;ll be contented then,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No more will I desire;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No, no, no more, no, no, no more will I desire,</span><br />
+To slight her whom I love so much,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That but creates the Fire:</span><br />
+Well might I expect the Fate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As well as any other;</span><br />
+Since he ne&#8217;er spares the Gods themselves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor does he spare his Mother.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>An Amorous</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>To the Tune of</i>, The<br />
+bonny Christ-Church Bells.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music119.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music119.png" width="551" height="462" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">S</span>EE how fair and fine she lies,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon her Bridal Bed;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No Lady at the Court,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So fit for the Sport,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh she look&#8217;d so curiously White and Red:</span><br />
+After the first and second time,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The weary Bridegroom slacks his Pace;</span><br />
+But Oh! she cries, come, come my Joy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And cling thy Cheek close to my Face:</span><br />
+Tinkle, tinkle, goes the Bell under the Bed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whilst Time and Touch they keep;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then with a Kiss,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They end their Bliss,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so fall fast asleep.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> J. ISUM.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music120.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music120a.png" width="563" height="842" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music120b.png" width="554" height="428" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span><i>ORINNA</i> if my Fate&#8217;s to love you,<br />
+<i>Corinna</i> if my Fate&#8217;s to love you,<br />
+Where&#8217;s the harm in saying so?<br />
+<i>Corinna</i> if my Fate&#8217;s to love you,<br />
+Where&#8217;s the harm in saying so?<br />
+Why shou&#8217;d my Sighs, why shou&#8217;d my Sighs,<br />
+Why shou&#8217;d my Sighs and Fondness move you?<br />
+To encrease, to encrease your Shepherd&#8217;s Woe:<br />
+Flame pent in still burns and scorches,<br />
+&#8217;Till it burns a Lover&#8217;s Heart:<br />
+Love declar&#8217;d like lighted Torches,<br />
+Wastes it self and gives less Pain:<br />
+Love declar&#8217;d like lighted Torches,<br />
+Wastes it self, wastes it self,<br />
+Wastes it self, and gives less Smart.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco016.png" width="271" height="50" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> JOHN ISUM.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music121.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music121a.png" width="561" height="863" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music121b.png" width="556" height="966" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span><i>&AElig;LIA&#8217;s</i> Charms are past expressing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were she kind as she is Fair;</span><br />
+<i>C&aelig;lia&#8217;s</i> Charms are past expressing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were she kind as she is Fair:</span><br />
+Heav&#8217;ns cou&#8217;d grant no greater Blessing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor Earth a Nymph more worth our Care;</span><br />
+Heav&#8217;ns cou&#8217;d grant no greater Blessing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor Earth a Nymph, nor Earth a Nymph more worth our Care.</span><br />
+<br />
+But Unkindness, Unkindness mars her Beauty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And useless makes that Heav&#8217;nly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That Heav&#8217;nly, that Heav&#8217;nly frame;</span><br />
+But Unkindness mars her Beauty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And useless makes that Heav&#8217;nly, Heav&#8217;nly frame:</span><br />
+While she mistakes and calls that Duty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which ill Nature others name:</span><br />
+While she mistakes and calls that Duty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which ill Nature others name.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco012.png" width="316" height="129" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The Hopeful Bargain: Or a Fare for a Hackney-Coachman, giving a
+Comical relation, how an</i> Ale-draper <i>at the Sign of the</i>
+Double-tooth&#8217;d Rake <i>in or near the new</i> Palace-yard, Westminster,
+<i>Sold his Wife for a Shilling, and how she was sold a Second time for
+five Shillings to</i> <span class="smcap">Judge</span>; <i>My Lord &mdash;&mdash; Coachman, and how her Husband
+receiv&#8217;d her again after she had lain with other Folks three Days and
+Nights</i>, &amp;c. <i>The Tune</i> Lilly Bullero.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music122.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music122.png" width="551" height="564" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HERE lives an Ale-draper near <i>New-palace-yard</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who used to Jerk the Bum of his Wife;</span><br />
+And she was forced to stand on her Guard,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To keep his Clutches from her Quoiff:</span><br />
+She poor Soul the weaker Vessel,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be reconcil&#8217;d was easily won;</span><br />
+He held her in scorn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But she Crown&#8217;d him with Horn,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+He for a Shilling sold his Spouse,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And she was very willing to go;</span><br />
+And left the poor Cuckold alone in the House,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he by himself his Horn might blow:</span><br />
+A Hackney Coachman he did buy her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And was not this a very good Fun;</span><br />
+With a dirty Pinner,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I am a Sinner,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Without Hood or Scarff, but rough as she run.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+The Woman gladly did depart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Between three Men was handed away;</span><br />
+He for her Husband did care not a Fart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He kept her one whole Night and Day:</span><br />
+Then honest <i>Judge</i> the Coachman bought her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And was not this most cunningly done?</span><br />
+Gave for her five Shilling,<br />
+To take her was willing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Without Hood or Scarff</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Cuckold to <i>Judge</i>, a Letter did send,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherein he did most humbly crave;</span><br />
+Quoth he, I prithee, my Rival Friend,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Spouse again I fain would have:</span><br />
+And if you will but let me have her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll pardon what she e&#8217;er has done;</span><br />
+I swear by my Maker,<br />
+Again I will take her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Without Hood and Scarff</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span>He sent an old Baud to interceed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And to perswade her to come back;</span><br />
+That he might have one of her delicate breed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he would give her a ha&#8217;p&#8217;uth of Sack:</span><br />
+Therefore prithee now come to me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or else poor I shall be undone:</span><br />
+Then do not forgo me,<br />
+But prithee come to me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Without Hood or Scarff, tho&#8217; rough</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Coachman then with much ado,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did suffer the Baud to take her out;</span><br />
+Upon the Condition that she would be true,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And let him have now and then a Bout:</span><br />
+But he took from her forty Shillings,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gave her a parting Glass at the <i>Sun</i>;</span><br />
+And then with good buyt&#8217; ye,<br />
+Discharged his Duty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>And turn&#8217;d her a grazing, rough as she run.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+The Cuckold invited the Coachman to dine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gave him a Treat at his own Expence;</span><br />
+They drown&#8217;d all Cares in full brimmers of Wine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He made him as welcome as any Prince:</span><br />
+There was all the Hungregation,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which from <i>Cuckolds-Point</i> was come;</span><br />
+They kissed and fumbled,<br />
+They touzed and tumbled,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>He was glad to take her rough as she run.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Judge</i> does enjoy her where he list,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He values not the old Cuckold&#8217;s Pouts;</span><br />
+And she is as good for the Game as e&#8217;er pist,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fudge on his Horns sits drying of Clouts:</span><br />
+She rants and revels when she pleases,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And to end as I begun,</span><br />
+The Horned Wise-acre,<br />
+Is forced to take her<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Maiden Lottery</span>: <i>Containing 70 Thousand Tickets, at a Guinea
+each; the Prizes being Rich and Loving Husbands, from three Thousand
+to one Hundred a Year, which Lottery will begin to draw on next</i>
+<span class="smcap">Valentine&#8217;s</span> <i>Day.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="poem">
+<tr>
+<td>
+<i>Then pretty Lasses venture now,</i><br />
+<i>Kind</i> Fortune <i>may her Smiles alow.</i>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music123.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music123.png" width="559" height="677" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">Y</span>OUNG Ladies that live in the City,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sweet beautiful proper and Tall;</span><br />
+And Country Maids who dabling wades,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here&#8217;s happy good News for you all:</span><br />
+A Lottery now out of hand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Erected will be in the <i>Strand</i>;</span><br />
+Young Husbands with Treasure, and Wealth out of measure<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will fairly be at your Command:</span><br />
+<i>Of her that shall light of a Fortunate Lot,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>There&#8217;s Six of three Thousand a Year to be got.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+I tell you the Price of each Ticket,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It is but a Guinea, I&#8217;ll vow;</span><br />
+Then hasten away, and make no delay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fill up the Lottery now:</span><br />
+If <i>Gillian</i> that lodges in Straw,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall have the good Fortune to draw</span><br />
+A Knight or a &#8217;Squire, he&#8217;ll never deny her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis fair and according to Law;</span><br />
+<i>Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,</i><br />
+<i>There&#8217;s Ten of two Thousand a Year to be got.</i><br />
+<br />
+The number is Seventy Thousand,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When all the whole Lot is compleat;</span><br />
+Five Hundred of which, are Prizes most rich,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Believe me for this is no Cheat:</span><br />
+There&#8217;s Drapers and Taylors likewise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brave Men that you cannot despise;</span><br />
+Come <i>Bridget</i> and <i>Jenny</i>, and throw in your Guinea,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Husband&#8217;s a delicate Prize:</span><br />
+<i>Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,</i><br />
+<i>There&#8217;s Ten of one Thousand a Year to be got.</i><br />
+<br />
+Suppose you should win for your Guinea,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Man of three Thousand a Year;</span><br />
+Would this not be brave; what more would you have?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You soon might in Glory appear:</span><br />
+In glittering Coach you may ride,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Lackeys to run by your side;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span>For why should you spare it? Faith win Gold and wear it;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now who would not be such a Bride?</span><br />
+<i>Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,</i><br />
+<i>There&#8217;s Sixty, Five Hundreds a Year to be got.</i><br />
+<br />
+Old Widows, and Maids above Forty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall not be admitted to draw:</span><br />
+There&#8217;s five Hundred and Ten, as proper young Men,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Indeed, as your Eyes ever saw:</span><br />
+Who scorns for one Guinea of Gold,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To lodge with a Woman that&#8217;s Old;</span><br />
+Young Maids are admitted, in hopes to be fitted,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Husbands couragious and bold:</span><br />
+<i>Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,</i><br />
+<i>There are wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got.</i><br />
+<br />
+Kind Men that are full of good Nature,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The flaxen, the black, and the brown;</span><br />
+Both lusty and stout, and fit to hold out,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The prime and the top of the Town:</span><br />
+So clever in every part,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They&#8217;ll please a young Girl to the Heart;</span><br />
+Nay, kiss you, and squeese you, and tenderly please you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Love has a conquering Dart:</span><br />
+<i>Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,</i><br />
+<i>There are Wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got.</i><br />
+<br />
+Then never be fearful to venture,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Girls bring you Guineas away;</span><br />
+Come merrily in, for we shall begin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To draw upon <i>Valentine&#8217;s</i> Day:</span><br />
+The Prizes are many and great,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each Man with a worthy Estate;</span><br />
+Then come away <i>Mary</i>, <i>Sib</i>, <i>Susan</i>, and <i>Sarah</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Joan</i>, <i>Nancy</i>, and pretty fac&#8217;d <i>Kate</i>:</span><br />
+<i>For now is the time if you&#8217;ll purchase a Lot,</i><br />
+<i>While Wealthy kind Husbands they are to be got.</i><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span>Amongst you I know there is many,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will miss of a Capital Prize:</span><br />
+Yet nevertheless, no Sorrows express,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But dry up your watry Eyes:</span><br />
+Young Lasses it is but in vain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In sorrowful Sighs to complain;</span><br />
+Then ne&#8217;er be faint hearted, tho&#8217; Luck be departed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all cannot reckon to gain:</span><br />
+<i>Yet venture young Lasses, your Guineas bring in,</i><br />
+<i>The Lucky will have the good Fortune to win.</i><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line006.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG <i>on the</i> JUBILEE.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music124.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music124.png" width="557" height="536" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span>OME Beaus, Virtuoso&#8217;s, rich Heirs and Musicians<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away, and in Troops to the <i>Jubile</i> jog;</span><br />
+Leave Discord and Death, to the College Physicians,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let the Vig&#8217;rous whore on, and the impotent Flog:</span><br />
+Already <i>Rome</i> opens her Arms to receive ye,<br />
+And ev&#8217;ry Transgression her Lord will forgive ye.<br />
+<br />
+Indulgences, Pardons, and such Holy Lumber,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As cheap there is now as our Cabbages grown;</span><br />
+While musty old Relicks of Saints without number,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For barely the looking upon, shall be shown:</span><br />
+These, were you an Atheist, must needs overcome ye,<br />
+That first were made Martyrs, and afterwards Mummy.<br />
+<br />
+They&#8217;ll shew ye the River, so Sung by the Poets,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the Rock from whence, Mortals were knockt o&#8217;th&#8217; Head;</span><br />
+They&#8217;ll shew ye the place too, as some will avow it,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where once a She Pope was brought fairly to Bed:</span><br />
+For which, ever since, to prevent Interloping,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a Chair her Successors still suffer a Groping.</span><br />
+<br />
+What a sight &#8217;tis to see the gay Idol accoutred,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Mitre and Cap, and two Keys by his side;</span><br />
+Be his inside what &#8217;twill, yet the Pomp of his outward,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shows <i>Servus servorum</i>, no hater of Pride,</span><br />
+These Keys into Heav&#8217;n will as surely admit ye,<br />
+As Clerks of a Parish to a Pew in the City.<br />
+<br />
+What a sight &#8217;tis to see the old Man in Procession,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through <i>Rome</i> in such Pomp as here <i>C&aelig;sar</i> did ride,</span><br />
+Now scattering of Pardons, here Crossing, there Blessing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With all his shav&#8217;d Spiritual Train&#8217;d-bans by his side;</span><br />
+As, <i>Confessors</i>, <i>Cardinals</i>, <i>Monks</i> fat as Bacons,<br />
+From Rev&#8217;rend <i>Arch-Bishops</i>, to Rosie <i>Arch-Deacons</i>.<br />
+<br />
+Then for your Diversion the more to regale ye,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fine Music you&#8217;ll hear, and high Dancing you&#8217;ll see;</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span>Men who much shall out-warble your Famous <i>Fideli</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make ye meer Fools, of <i>Balloon</i> and <i>L&#8217;Abbe</i>:</span><br />
+And to shew ye how fond they&#8217;re to Kiss <i>Vostre Manos</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each <i>Padre</i> turns Pimp, all <i>Nuns</i> Courtezana&#8217;s.</span><br />
+<br />
+And when you&#8217;ve some Months at old <i>Babylon</i> been-<i>a</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And on Pardons, and Punks, all your <i>Rhino</i> is spent;</span><br />
+And when you have seen all, that there is to be seen-<i>a</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You&#8217;ll return not so Rich, tho&#8217; as Wise as you went:</span><br />
+And &#8217;twill be but small Comfort after so much Expence-<i>a</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That your Heirs will do just so an Hundred Years hence-<i>a</i>.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line009.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A Young Man&#8217;s</i> WILL.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music125.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music125.png" width="556" height="473" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span> <i>Young Man</i> sick and like to die,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His last <i>Will</i> being written found;</span><br />
+I give my <i>Soul</i> to <i>God</i> on high,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And my <i>Body</i> to the Ground:</span><br />
+Unto some <i>Church-men</i> do I give,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Base Minds to greedy Lucre bent;</span><br />
+<i>Pride</i> and <i>Ambition</i> whilst they live,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this my</i> Will <i>and</i> Testament.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Item.</i> Poor folks <i>brown Bread</i> I give,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And eke <i>bare Bones</i>, with hungry Cheeks;</span><br />
+<i>Toil</i> and <i>Travel</i> whilst they live,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And to feed on <i>Roots</i> and <i>Leeks</i>:</span><br />
+<i>Item.</i> To Rich Men I bestow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">High <i>Looks</i>, low <i>Deeds</i>, and Hearts of Flint;</span><br />
+And that themselves they seldom know,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Proud stately <i>Courtiers</i> do I <i>Will</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two Faces in one Head to wear,</span><br />
+For Great Men <i>Bribes</i>, I think most fit,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Pride</i> and <i>Oppression</i> through the Year:</span><br />
+<i>Tenants</i> I give them leave to lose,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>Landlords</i> for to raise their <i>Rent</i>;</span><br />
+<i>Rogues</i> to Fawn, Collogue and glose,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Item.</i> To <i>Soldiers</i> for their <i>Fees</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I give them <i>Wounds</i> their Bodies full;</span><br />
+And for to beg on bended Knees,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Cap in Hand to every <i>Gull</i>:</span><br />
+<i>Item</i>. I will poor <i>Scholars</i> have,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all their Pains and Travel spent:</span><br />
+<i>Raggs</i>, <i>Jaggs</i>, and <i>Taunts</i> of every Knave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this my</i> Will <i>and</i> Testament.</span><br />
+<br />
+To <i>Shoemakers</i> I grant this Boon,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which <i>Mercury</i> gave them once before;</span><br />
+Altho&#8217; they earn two Pence by Noon,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To spend e&#8217;er Night two Groats and more:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span>And <i>Blacksmiths</i> when the Work is done,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I give to them incontinent,</span><br />
+To drink two Barrels with a Bun,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this my</i> Will <i>and</i> Testament.</span><br />
+<br />
+To <i>Weavers</i> swift, this do I leave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Against that may beseem them well:</span><br />
+That they their good Wives do deceive,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bring home a Yard and steal an Ell:</span><br />
+And <i>Taylors</i> too must be set down,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A <i>Gift</i> to give them I am bent;</span><br />
+To cut four Sleeves to every Gown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+To Tavern haunters grant I more,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Red Eyes, Red Nose, and Stinking Breath;</span><br />
+And Doublets foul with drops before,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And foul Shame until their <i>Death</i>:</span><br />
+And <i>Gamesters</i> that will never leave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before their Substance be all spent;</span><br />
+The Wooden <i>Dagger</i> I bequeath,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+To common Fidlers I <i>Will</i> that they,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall go in poor and thread-bare Coats;</span><br />
+And at most places where they Play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To carry away more <i>Tunes</i> than <i>Groats</i>:</span><br />
+To wand&#8217;ring <i>Players</i> I do give,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before their <i>Substance</i> be all spent;</span><br />
+Proud Silk&#8217;n <i>Beggars</i> for to live,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+To <i>Wenching</i> Smell-smocks give I these,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dead looks, gaunt purrs, and crasy Back;</span><br />
+And now and then the foul <i>Disease</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such as <i>Gill</i> gave to <i>Jack</i>;</span><br />
+To <i>Parretors</i> I give them clear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all their <i>Toil</i> and <i>Travel</i> spent;</span><br />
+The <i>Devil</i> away such <i>Knaves</i> to bear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By <i>this my</i> Will <i>and</i> Testament.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span>I <i>Will</i> that <i>Cutpurses</i> haunt all <i>Fairs</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thrust among the thickest Throng;</span><br />
+That neither <i>Purse</i> nor <i>Pocket</i> spare,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But what they get to bear along:</span><br />
+But if they Falter in their Trade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so betray their bad intent;</span><br />
+I give them <i>Tyburn</i> for their share,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this my</i> Will <i>and</i> Testament.</span><br />
+<br />
+To serving Men I give this Gift,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That when their Strength is once decay&#8217;d;</span><br />
+The Master of such Men do shift,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Horsemen do a toothless <i>Jade</i>:</span><br />
+<i>Item.</i> I give them leave to <i>Pine</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all their Service so ill spent:</span><br />
+And with <i>Duke Humphry</i> for to Dine,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Item.</i> To <i>Millers</i> I Grant withal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That they Spare, nor Poke, nor Sack;</span><br />
+But with <i>Grist</i>, so e&#8217;er befal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They Grind a Strike, and steal a Peck:</span><br />
+I <i>Will</i> that <i>Butchers</i> Huff their Meat,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sell a lump of <i>Ramish</i> scent;</span><br />
+For Weather Mutton good and sweet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+I <i>Will</i> Ale Wives punish their Guests,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With hungry Cakes and little Canns;</span><br />
+And Barm their Drink with new found <i>Yeest</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such as is made of <i>Pispot</i> Grounds:</span><br />
+And she that meaneth for to Gain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in her House have Money spent,</span><br />
+I <i>Will</i> she keep a pretty Punck,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this my</i> Will <i>and</i> Testament.</span><br />
+<br />
+To jealous Husbands I do grant,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lack of Pleasure, want of Sleep;</span><br />
+That Lanthorn Horns they never want,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tho&#8217; ne&#8217;er so close their Wives they keep:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span>And for their Wives, I <i>Will</i> that they,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The closer up that they are pent;</span><br />
+The closer still they seek to Play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this my</i> Will <i>and</i> Testament.</span><br />
+<br />
+For Swearing <i>Swaggerers</i> nought is left,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To give them for a parting Blow;</span><br />
+But leaving off of damned Oaths,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that of them I will bestow:</span><br />
+<i>Item.</i> I give them for their Pain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That when all Hope and Livelihood&#8217;s spent,</span><br />
+A Wallet or a Hempen Chain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>By this</i> &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Time and longest Livers do I make,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Supervisor of my <i>Will</i>:</span><br />
+My Gold and Silver let them take,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That will dig for&#8217;t in <i>Malvein</i> Hill.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line006.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A New</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>, <i>Sung at the Playhouse. By<br />
+Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Dogget</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music126.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music126.png" width="556" height="306" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span>N the Devil&#8217;s Country there lately did dwell,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A crew of such Whores as was ne&#8217;er bred in Hell,</span><br />
+The Devil himself he knows it full well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny, deny;</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body can deny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+There were Six of the Gang, and all of a Bud,<br />
+Which open&#8217;d as soon as got into the Blood,<br />
+There are five to be hang&#8217;d, when the other proves good,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+But it seems they have hitherto sav&#8217;d all their Lives,<br />
+Since they cou&#8217;d not live honest, there&#8217;s four made Wives,<br />
+The other two they are not Marry&#8217;d but Sw&mdash;&mdash;s,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Eldest the Matron of t&#8217;other Five Imps,<br />
+Though as Chast as <i>Diana</i>, or any o&#8217;th&#8217; Nymphs,<br />
+Yet rather than Daughter shall want it, she Pimps,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Which no Body</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Damn&#8217;d Proud and Ambitious both Old and the Young,<br />
+And not fit for honest Men to come among,<br />
+A damn&#8217;d Itch in their Tail, and a sting in their Tongue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Sing tantara rara Whores all, Whores all,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Sing tantara rara Whores all.</i></span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco013.png" width="216" height="62" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music127.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music127.png" width="553" height="435" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">M</span>ARRIAGE it seems is for Better for Worse,<br />
+Some count it a Blessing and others a Curse;<br />
+The Cuckolds are Blest if the Proverb prove true,<br />
+And then there&#8217;s no doubt but in Heav&#8217;n there&#8217;s enough:<br />
+Of honest rich Rogues who ne&#8217;er had got there,<br />
+If their Wives had not sent them thro&#8217; trembling and fear.<br />
+<br />
+Some Women are Honest, tho&#8217; rare in a Wife,<br />
+Yet with Scolding and Brawling they&#8217;ll shorten your Life,<br />
+You ne&#8217;er can enjoy your Bottle and Friend;<br />
+But your Wife like an Imp, is at your Elbow&#8217;s end:<br />
+Crying fie, fie you Sot, come, come, come, come,<br />
+So these are Unhappy abroad and at home.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span>We find the Batchelor liveth best,<br />
+Tho&#8217; Drunk or Sober he takes his rest;<br />
+He never is troubl&#8217;d with Scolding or Strife,<br />
+&#8217;Tis the best can be said of a very good Wife:<br />
+But merrily Day and Night does spend,<br />
+Enjoying his Mistress, Bottle, and Friend.<br />
+<br />
+A Woman out-wits us, do what we can,<br />
+She&#8217;ll make a Fool of ev&#8217;ry Wise Man;<br />
+Old Mother <i>Eve</i> did the <i>Serpent</i> obey,<br />
+And has taught all her Sex that damnable way:<br />
+Of Cheating and Couzening all Mankind,<br />
+&#8217;Twere better if <i>Adam</i> had still been Blind.<br />
+<br />
+The poor Man that Marries he thinks he does well,<br />
+I pity&#8217;s Condition, for sure he&#8217;s in Hell;<br />
+The Fool is a Sotting and spends all he gets,<br />
+The Child is a Bawling, the Wife daily Frets:<br />
+That Marriage is pleasant we all must agree,<br />
+Consider it well, there&#8217;s none happier can be.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line012.png" width="427" height="158" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music128.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music128.png" width="547" height="182" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HE <i>Caffalier</i> was gone, and the <i>Roundhead</i> he was come,<br />
+Was the greatest Blessing under the Sun;<br />
+Before the Devil in Hell sally&#8217;d out, and ript the Placket of Letter,<br />
+Ay, and take her Money too,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Cot bless hur Master</i> Roundhead, <i>and send hur well to do.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Now hur can go to <i>Shrewsperry</i> her Flannel for to sell,<br />
+Hur can carry a creat sharge of Money about hur,<br />
+Thirty or Forty Groats lap&#8217;d in a <i>Welsh</i> Carter,<br />
+Ay, and think hur self rich too,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Cot bless</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Now hur can coe to Shurch, or hur can stay at home,<br />
+Hur can say hur <i>Lord&#8217;s Prayer</i>, or hur can let it alone:<br />
+Hur can make a Prayer of hur own Head, lye with hur Holy Sister,<br />
+Ay, and say a long Crace too,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Cot bless</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+But yet for all the great Cood that you for hur have done,<br />
+Would you wou&#8217;d made Peace with our King, and let hur come home,<br />
+Put off the Military Charge, Impost, and Excise,<br />
+Ay, and free Quarter too.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Then Cot shall bless you Master</i> Roundhead, <i>and send hur well to do.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Cross</span>. <i>Set by<br />
+Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Jeremiah Clark</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music129.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music129.png" width="556" height="503" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">D</span>IVINE <i>Astrea</i> hither flew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To <i>Cynthia&#8217;s</i> brighter Throne;</span><br />
+She left the Iron World below,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To bless the Silver Moon:</span><br />
+<i>She left the Iron World below,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>To bless the Silver Moon.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+Tho&#8217; <i>Ph&#339;bus</i> with his hotter Beams,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Do&#8217;s Gold in Earth Create;</span><br />
+That leads those wretches to Extreams,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Av&#8217;rice, Lust, and Hate.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in the</i> Surpriz&#8217;d Lovers. <i>Set by<br />
+Mr.</i> John Eccles, <i>Sung by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Bowman</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music130.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music130a.png" width="553" height="817" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music130b.png" width="556" height="416" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN first I saw her charming Face,<br />
+Her taking Shape and moving Grace;<br />
+My Rosie Cheeks, my Rosie Cheeks did glow with heat,<br />
+My Heart and my Pulse did beat, beat, beat,<br />
+My Heart and my Pulse did beat;<br />
+I wish&#8217;d for a, I wish&#8217;d for a, do you, do you guess what,<br />
+Do you guess what makes Soldiers fight,<br />
+Soldiers Fight, and States-men Plot.<br />
+<br />
+Subdues us all in every thing,<br />
+And makes, makes a Subject of a King;<br />
+Still she deny&#8217;d, and I reply&#8217;d,<br />
+Away she flew, I did pursue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At last I catch&#8217;d her fast;</span><br />
+But oh! had you seen, but oh! had you seen,<br />
+Had you seen what had past between;<br />
+Oh! I fear, I fear, oh! I fear, I fear, oh! I fear,<br />
+I fear, I fear, I have spoil&#8217;d her Wast.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Akeroyd</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music131.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music131.png" width="555" height="582" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HE <i>Devil</i> he pull&#8217;d of his Jacket of Flame,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The <i>Fryer</i> he pull&#8217;d off his Cowle;</span><br />
+The <i>Devil</i> took him for a Dunce of the Game,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the <i>Fryer</i> took him for a Fool:</span><br />
+He piqu&#8217;d, and repiqu&#8217;d so oft, that at last,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He swore by the Jolly fat <i>Nuns</i>;</span><br />
+If Cards came no better than those that are past,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! oh! I shall lose all my <i>Buns</i>.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A New</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Translated from the</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">French</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music132.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music132.png" width="555" height="813" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">P</span>RETTY Parret say, when I was away,<br />
+And in dull absence pass&#8217;d the Day;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What at home was doing;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With Chat and Play,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We are Gay,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Night and Day,</span><br />
+Good Chear and Mirth Renewing;<br />
+<i>Singing, Laughing all, Singing Laughing all, like pretty pretty</i> Poll.<br />
+<br />
+Was no Fop so rude, boldly to Intrude,<br />
+And like a sawcy Lover wou&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Court, and Teaze my Lady:</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A Thing you know,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Made for Show,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Call&#8217;d a Beau,</span><br />
+Near her was always ready,<br />
+<i>Ever at her call, like pretty, pretty</i> Poll.<br />
+<br />
+Tell me with what Air, he approach&#8217;d the Fair,<br />
+And how she could with Patience bear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All he did and utter&#8217;d;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He still address&#8217;d,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Still caress&#8217;d,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Kiss&#8217;d and press&#8217;d,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sung, Prattl&#8217;d, Laugh&#8217;d, and Flutter&#8217;d:</span><br />
+<i>Well receiv&#8217;d in all, like pretty, pretty</i> Poll.<br />
+<br />
+Did he go away, at the close of the Day,<br />
+Or did he ever use to stay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a Corner dodging;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The want of Light,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When &#8217;twas Night,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Spoil&#8217;d my sight,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I believe his Lodging,</span><br />
+<i>Was within her call, like pretty, pretty</i> Poll.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>by a Person of Honour. Set by<br />
+Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">John Weldon</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music133.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music133.png" width="557" height="817" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>T Noon in a sultry Summer&#8217;s Day,<br />
+The brightest Lady of the <i>May</i>,<br />
+Young <i>Chloris</i> Innocent and Gay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sat Knotting in a shade:</span><br />
+Each slender Finger play&#8217;d its part,<br />
+With such activity and Art;<br />
+As wou&#8217;d inflame a Youthful Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And warm the most decay&#8217;d.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her Fav&#8217;rite Swain by chance came by;<br />
+She had him quickly in her Eye,<br />
+Yet when the bashful Boy drew nigh,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She wou&#8217;d have seem&#8217;d afraid,</span><br />
+She let her Iv&#8217;ry Needle fall,<br />
+And hurl&#8217;d away the twisted Ball;<br />
+Then gave her <i>Strephon</i> such a call,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As wou&#8217;d have wak&#8217;d the Dead.</span><br />
+<br />
+Dear gentle Youth is&#8217;t none but thee?<br />
+With Innocence I dare be free;<br />
+By so much Trust and Modesty,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No Nymph was e&#8217;er betray&#8217;d,</span><br />
+Come lean thy Head upon my Lap,<br />
+While thy soft Cheeks I stroak and clap;<br />
+Thou may&#8217;st securely take a Nap,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Which he poor Fool, obey&#8217;d.</span><br />
+<br />
+She saw him Yawn, and heard him Snore,<br />
+And found him fast a sleep all o&#8217;re;<br />
+She sigh&#8217;d &mdash;&mdash; and cou&#8217;d no more,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But starting up she said,</span><br />
+Such Vertue shou&#8217;d rewarded be,<br />
+For this thy dull Fidelity;<br />
+I&#8217;ll trust thee with my Flocks, not me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pursue thy Grazing Trade.</span><br />
+<br />
+Go milk thy Goats, and Sheer thy Sheep,<br />
+And watch all Night thy Flocks, to keep;<br />
+Thou shalt no more be lull&#8217;d asleep,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">By me mistaken Maid.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> Jeremy Clark.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music134.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music134.png" width="552" height="538" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HILE the Lover is thinking,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With my Friend I&#8217;ll be Drinking</span><br />
+And with Vigour pursue my Delight;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While the Fool is designing,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">His fatal confining,</span><br />
+With <i>Bacchus</i> I&#8217;ll spend the whole Night:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With the God I&#8217;ll be Jolly,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Without Madness or Folly.</span><br />
+Fickle Woman to Marry Implore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Leave my Bottle and Friend,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For so Foolish an end,</span><br />
+When I do, may I never Drink more.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A Health to the</i> <span class="smcap">Tackers</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music135.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music135.png" width="549" height="623" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>ERE&#8217;s a Health to the Tackers, my Boys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But mine A&mdash;&mdash;se for the Tackers about;</span><br />
+May the brave <i>English</i> Spirits come in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the Knaves and <i>Fanaticks</i> turn out:</span><br />
+Since the <i>Magpyes</i> of late, are confounding the State,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wou&#8217;d pull our Establishments down;</span><br />
+Let us make &#8217;em a Jest, for they Shit in their Nest,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And be true to the Church and the Crown.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span>Let us chuse such Parliament Men<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As have stuck to their Principles tight;</span><br />
+And wou&#8217;d not their Country betray<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the Story of <i>Ashby</i> and <i>White</i>:</span><br />
+Who care not a T&mdash;&mdash;d, for a <i>Whig</i>, or a Lord,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That won&#8217;t see our Accounts fairly stated;</span><br />
+For <i>C&mdash;&mdash;ll</i> ne&#8217;er fears, the Address of those Peers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who the Nation of Millions have Cheated.</span><br />
+<br />
+The next thing adviseable is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since <i>Schism</i> so strangely abounds;</span><br />
+To oppose e&#8217;ery Man that&#8217;s set up<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By <i>Dissenters</i>, in Corporate Towns:</span><br />
+For <i>High-Church</i>, and <i>Low-Church</i>, has brought us to no <i>Church</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Conscience so bubbl&#8217;d the Nation;</span><br />
+For who is not still for Conformity Bill,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will be surely a R&mdash;&mdash; on Occasion.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco021.png" width="112" height="184" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Anthony Young</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music136.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music136.png" width="551" height="443" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">S</span>INCE <i>C&aelig;lia</i> only has the Art,<br />
+And only she can Captivate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wanton in my Breast;</span><br />
+All other Pleasure I despise,<br />
+Than what are from my <i>C&aelig;lia&#8217;s</i> Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In her alone I&#8217;m blest.</span><br />
+<br />
+Whene&#8217;er she Smiles, new Life she gives,<br />
+And happy, happy who receives,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From her Inchanting Breath;</span><br />
+Then prithee <i>C&aelig;lia</i> smile once more,<br />
+Since I no longer must adore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For when you frown &#8217;tis Death.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music137.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music137.png" width="551" height="619" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>H! how lovely sweet and dear,<br />
+Is the kind relenting Fair,<br />
+Who Reprieve us in Despair;<br />
+Oh! that thus my Nymph wou&#8217;d say,<br />
+Come, come my Dear thy Cares repay,<br />
+Be Blest my Love, be mine to Day:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Come, come my dear, thy Cares repay,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Be blest my Love, be mine to Day.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> Bracegirdle.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music138.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music138.png" width="554" height="607" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>Dvance, advance, advance gay Tenants of the Plain,<br />
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Loud Eccho spread my Voice,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Loud Eccho spread my Voice,</span><br />
+Loud Eccho, loud Eccho, loud Eccho,<br />
+Loud Eccho, loud Eccho, spread my Voice,<br />
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain,<br />
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>and the Shepherd, and</i> GILLIAN <i>the Shepherd&#8217;s Wife, with
+her churlish Answer to the</i> <span class="smcap">King</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music139.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music139.png" width="556" height="212" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span>N Elder Time, there was of Yore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Guides of churlish Glee;</span><br />
+Were us&#8217;d among our Country Earls,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though no such thing now be.</span><br />
+<br />
+The which King <i>Alfred</i> liking well,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forsook his stately Court;</span><br />
+And in Disguise unknown went forth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see that jovial Sport.</span><br />
+<br />
+How <i>Dick</i> and <i>Tom</i>, in clouted Shoon,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Coats of russet Grey,</span><br />
+Esteem&#8217;d themselves more brave than them,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That went in Golden ray.</span><br />
+<br />
+In Garments fit for such a Life,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The good King <i>Alfred</i> went,</span><br />
+All ragg&#8217;d and torn, as from his Back<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Beggar his Cloaths had rent.</span><br />
+<br />
+A Sword and Buckler good and strong,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To give <i>Jack Sauce</i> a rap;</span><br />
+And on his Head, instead of Crown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He wore a <i>Monmouth</i> Cap.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span>Thus coasting through <i>Somersetshire</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Near <i>Newton</i> Court he met</span><br />
+A Shepherd Swain of lusty Limb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That up and down did jet.</span><br />
+<br />
+He wore a Bonnet of good Grey,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Close buttoned to his Chin;</span><br />
+And at his Back a leather Scrip,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With much good Meat therein.</span><br />
+<br />
+God speed, good Shepherd, quoth the King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I come to be thy Guest;</span><br />
+To taste of thy good Victuals here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And drink that&#8217;s of the best.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thy Scrip I know, hath Cheer good store,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What then the Shepherd said?</span><br />
+Thou seem&#8217;st to be some sturdy Thief,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mak&#8217;st me sore afraid.</span><br />
+<br />
+Yet if thou wilt thy Dinner win,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Sword and Buckler take;</span><br />
+And if thou canst into my Scrip,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Therewith an entrance make.</span><br />
+<br />
+I tell thee, Roister, it hath store<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Beef, and Bacon fat;</span><br />
+With sheafs of Barly-bread to make<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy Mouth to water at.</span><br />
+<br />
+Here stands my Bottle, here my Bag,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If thou canst win them Roister;</span><br />
+Against the Sword and Buckler here,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Sheep-hook is my Master.</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Benedicit</i> now, quoth our good King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It never shall be said;</span><br />
+That <i>Alfred</i> of the Shepherd&#8217;s Hook,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will stand a whit afraid.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span>So soundly thus they both fell to&#8217;t,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And giving Bang for Bang;</span><br />
+At every Blow the Shepherd gave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">King <i>Alfred&#8217;s</i> Sword cry&#8217;d twang.</span><br />
+<br />
+His Buckler prov&#8217;d his chiefest Fence,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For still the Shepherd&#8217;s Hook;</span><br />
+Was that the which King <i>Alfred</i> could,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In no good manner brook.</span><br />
+<br />
+At last when they had fought four Hours,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And it grew just Mid-day;</span><br />
+And wearied both, with right good Will,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Desir&#8217;d each others stay.</span><br />
+<br />
+King, Truce I cry, quoth <i>Alfred</i> then,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good Shepherd hold thy Hand:</span><br />
+A sturdier Fellow than thy self,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lives not within this Land.</span><br />
+<br />
+Nor a lustier Roister than thou art,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The churlish Shepherd said,</span><br />
+To tell thee plain, thy Thievish looks,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now makes my Heart afraid.</span><br />
+<br />
+Else sure thou art some Prodigal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which hast consum&#8217;d thy store;</span><br />
+And now com&#8217;st wand&#8217;ring in this place,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To rob and steal for more.</span><br />
+<br />
+Deem not of me, then quoth our King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good Shepherd in this sort;</span><br />
+A Gentleman well known I am,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In good King <i>Alfred&#8217;s</i> Court.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Devil thou art, the Shepherd said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou goest in Rags all torn;</span><br />
+Thou rather seem&#8217;st, I think to be,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some Beggar basely born.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span>But if thou wilt mend thy Estate,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And here a Shepherd be;</span><br />
+At Night to <i>Gillian</i> my sweet Wife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou shalt go home with me.</span><br />
+<br />
+For she&#8217;s as good a Toothless Dame,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As mumbleth on Brown Bread;</span><br />
+Where thou shalt lie on hurden Sheets,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon a fresh Straw Bed.</span><br />
+<br />
+Of Whig and Whey, we have good store,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And keep good Pease-straw Fires;</span><br />
+And now and then good Barly Cakes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As better Days requires.</span><br />
+<br />
+But for my Master which is Chief,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Lord of <i>Newton</i> Court;</span><br />
+He keeps I say, his Shepherds Swains,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In far more braver sort.</span><br />
+<br />
+We there have Curds, and clouted Cream,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Red Cows morning Milk;</span><br />
+And now and then fine Buttered Cakes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As soft as any Silk.</span><br />
+<br />
+Of Beef and reised Bacon store,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That is most Fat and Greasy;</span><br />
+We have likewise to feast our Chaps,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make them glib and easie.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thus if thou wilt my Man become,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This usage thou shalt have;</span><br />
+If not, adieu, go hang thy self,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so farewel Sir Knave.</span><br />
+<br />
+King <i>Alfred</i> hearing of this Glee,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The churlish Shepherd said;</span><br />
+Was well content to be his Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So they a Bargain made.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span>A Penny round, the Shepherd gave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In earnest of this Match;</span><br />
+To keep his Sheep in Field and fold,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As Shepherds use to watch.</span><br />
+<br />
+His Wages shall be full Ten Groats,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Service of a Year;</span><br />
+Yet was it not his use, old Lad,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hire a Man so dear.</span><br />
+<br />
+For did the King himself (quoth he)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto my Cottage come;</span><br />
+He should not for a Twelvemonths Pay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Receive a greater Sum.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hereat the bonny King grew blith,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hear the clownish Jest;</span><br />
+How silly sots, as custom is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Do discant at the best.</span><br />
+<br />
+But not to spoil the Foolish sport,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was content good King;</span><br />
+To fit the Shepherd&#8217;s humour right,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In every kind of thing.</span><br />
+<br />
+A Sheep-hook then, with <i>Patch</i> his Dog,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Tar-box by his side;</span><br />
+He with his Master, jig by jowl,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unto old <i>Gillian</i> hy&#8217;d.</span><br />
+<br />
+Into whose sight no sooner came,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whom have you here (quoth she)</span><br />
+A Fellow I doubt, will cut our Throats,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So like a Knave looks he.</span><br />
+<br />
+Not so old Dame, quoth <i>Alfred</i> strait,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of me you need not fear;</span><br />
+My Master hir&#8217;d me for Ten Groats,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To serve you one whole Year.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span>So good Dame <i>Gillian</i> grant me leave,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within your House to stay;</span><br />
+For by St. <i>Ann</i>, do what you can,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I will not yet away.</span><br />
+<br />
+Her churlish usage pleas&#8217;d him still,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Put him to such a Proof,</span><br />
+That he at Night was almost choak&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within that smoaky Roof.</span><br />
+<br />
+But as he sat with smiling cheer,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The event of all to see;</span><br />
+His Dame brought forth a piece of Dow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which in the Fire throws she.</span><br />
+<br />
+Where lying on the Hearth to bake,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By chance the Cake did burn;</span><br />
+What can&#8217;st thou not, thou Lout (quoth she)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take Pains the same to turn:</span><br />
+<br />
+Thou art more quick to take it out,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And eat it up half Dow,</span><br />
+Than thus to stay till&#8217;t be enough,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And so thy Manners show.</span><br />
+<br />
+But serve me such another Trick,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll thwack thee on the Snout;</span><br />
+Which made the patient King, good Man,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of her to stand in Doubt:</span><br />
+<br />
+But to be brief, to bed they went,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The good old Man and&#8217;s Wife;</span><br />
+But never such a Lodging had<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">King <i>Alfred</i> in his Life:</span><br />
+<br />
+For he was laid in white Sheeps Wool,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">New pull&#8217;d from tanned Fells,</span><br />
+And o&#8217;er his Head hang&#8217;d Spiders Webbs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As if they had been Bells.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span>Is this the Country Guise, thought he,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then here I will not stay;</span><br />
+But hence be gone as soon as breaks<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The peeping of the Day.</span><br />
+<br />
+The cackling Hens and Geese kept roost,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And perched at his side;</span><br />
+Whereat the last the watchful Cock,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Made known the Morning Tide.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then up got <i>Alfred</i> with his Horn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And blew so long a Blast,</span><br />
+That made <i>Gillian</i> and her Groom,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Bed full sore agast.</span><br />
+<br />
+Arise, quoth she, we are undone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This Night, we lodged have,</span><br />
+At unawares within our House,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A false dissembling Knave;</span><br />
+<br />
+Rise Husband, rise, he&#8217;ll cut our Throats,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He calleth for his Mates,</span><br />
+I&#8217;d give old <i>Will</i> our good Cade Lamb,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He would depart our Gates.</span><br />
+<br />
+But still King <i>Alfred</i> blew his Horn<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">before them, more and more,</span><br />
+&#8217;Till that a hundred Lords and Knights,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All lighted at the Door:</span><br />
+<br />
+Which cry&#8217;d all hail, all hail good King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Long have we look&#8217;d your Grace;</span><br />
+And here you find (my merry Men all)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Sovereign in this place.</span><br />
+<br />
+We shall surely be hang&#8217;d up both,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old <i>Gillian</i> I much fear,</span><br />
+The Shepherd said, for using thus<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our good King <i>Alfred</i> here:</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span>O pardon, my Liege, quoth <i>Gillian</i> then,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For my Husband and for me,</span><br />
+By these ten Bones I never thought<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The same that now I see:</span><br />
+<br />
+And by my Hook, the Shepherd said,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An Oath both good and true,</span><br />
+Before this time, O noble King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I never your Highness knew:</span><br />
+<br />
+Then pardon me and my old Wife,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That we may after say,</span><br />
+When first you came into our House,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was a happy Day.</span><br />
+<br />
+It shall be done, said <i>Alfred</i> streight,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>Gillian</i> thy old Dame,</span><br />
+For this thy churlish using me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deserveth not much Blame.</span><br />
+<br />
+For this thy Country Guise I see,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be thus bluntish still,</span><br />
+And where the plainest Meaning is,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Remains the smallest Ill.</span><br />
+<br />
+And Master, lo I tell thee now,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For thy low Manhood shown,</span><br />
+A Thousand Weathers I&#8217;ll bestow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon thee for thy own.</span><br />
+<br />
+And pasture Ground, as much as will<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Suffice to feed them all,</span><br />
+And this thy Cottage I will change<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into a stately Hall.</span><br />
+<br />
+As for the same, as Duty binds,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Shepherd said, good King,</span><br />
+A milk white Lamb once every Year,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll to your Highness bring.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span>And <i>Gillian</i> my Wife likewise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Wool to make you Coats,</span><br />
+Will give you as much at New Year&#8217;s Tide,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As shall be worth ten Groats:</span><br />
+<br />
+And in your Praise my Bagpipe shall<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sound sweetly once a Year,</span><br />
+How <i>Alfred</i> our renowned King,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most kindly hath been here.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thanks Shepherd, thanks, quoth he again<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The next time I come hither,</span><br />
+My Lords with me here in this House,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will all be merry together.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line019.png" width="543" height="87" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> Bracegirdle.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music140.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music140a.png" width="553" height="362" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music140b.png" width="551" height="700" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span>EASE, cease of <i>Cupid</i> to complain,<br />
+Love, Love&#8217;s a Joy even while a Pain;<br />
+Oh! then think! oh! then think;<br />
+Oh! then think how great his Blisses,<br />
+Moving Glances, balmy Kisses,<br />
+Charming Raptures, matchless Sweets,<br />
+Love, Love alone, Love, Love alone,<br />
+Love, Love alone, all Joys compleats.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Bracegirdle</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music141.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music141a.png" width="556" height="735" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music141b.png" width="553" height="199" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span>OME, come ye Nymphs,<br />
+Come ye Nymphs and ev&#8217;ry Swain,<br />
+Come ye Nymphs and ev&#8217;ry Swain,<br />
+<i>Galatea</i> leaves the Main,<br />
+To revive us on the Plain,<br />
+To revive us, to revive us, to revive us on the Plain;<br />
+Come, come, come, come ye Nymphs,<br />
+Come ye Nymphs and ev&#8217;ry Swain,<br />
+Come ye Nymphs and ev&#8217;ry Swain,<br />
+<i>Galatea</i> leaves the Main,<br />
+To revive us on the Plain,<br />
+To revive us on the Plain,<br />
+Come ye Nymphs and ev&#8217;ry Swain.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line015.png" width="547" height="39" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG. <i>Set by Mr.</i> John Barret.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music142.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music142a.png" width="554" height="211" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music142b.png" width="556" height="327" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span><i>Anthia</i> the lovely, the Joy of her Swain,<br />
+By <i>Iphis</i> was lov&#8217;d, and lov&#8217;d <i>Iphis</i> again;<br />
+She liv&#8217;d in the Youth, and the Youth in the Fair,<br />
+Their Pleasure was equal, and equal their Care;<br />
+No Time, no Enjoyment their Dotage withdrew;<br />
+But the longer they liv&#8217;d, but the longer they liv&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Still the fonder they grew.</span><br />
+<br />
+A Passion so happy alarm&#8217;d all the Plain,<br />
+Some envy&#8217;d the Nymph, but more envy&#8217;d the Swain;<br />
+Some swore &#8217;twould be pity their Loves to invade,<br />
+That the Lovers alone for each other was made:<br />
+But all, all consented, that none ever knew,<br />
+A Nymph yet so kind, a Nymph yet so kind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or a Shepherd so true.</span><br />
+<br />
+Love saw &#8217;em with Pleasure, and vow&#8217;d to take care<br />
+Of the faithful, the tender, the innocent Pair;<br />
+What either did want, he bid either to move,<br />
+But they wanted nothing, but ever to love:<br />
+Said, &#8217;twas all that to bless him his God-head cou&#8217;d do,<br />
+That they still might be kind, that they still might be kind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And they still might be true.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music143.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music143a.png" width="556" height="852" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music143b.png" width="559" height="293" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">B</span>Ring out your Coney-Skins<br />
+Bring out your Coney-Skins Maids to me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hold them fair that I may see,</span><br />
+Grey, Black and Blue, for the smaller Skins<br />
+I&#8217;ll give you Bracelets, Laces, Pins,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for your whole Coney</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here&#8217;s ready Money,</span><br />
+Come gentle <i>Joan</i>, do thou begin<br />
+With thy black Coney, thy black Coney-Skin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And <i>Mary</i> and <i>Joan</i> will follow,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With their Silver-hair&#8217;d Skins and yellow;</span><br />
+The White Coney-Skin I will not lay by,<br />
+For tho&#8217; it be faint, it is fair to the Eye:<br />
+The Grey it is worn, but yet for my Money,<br />
+Give me the bonny, bonny black Coney;<br />
+Come away fair Maids, your Skins will decay,<br />
+Come and take Money Maids, put your Wares away:<br />
+Ha&#8217;ye any Coney-Skins, ha&#8217;ye any Coney-Skins,<br />
+Ha&#8217;ye any Coney-Skins here to sell?<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco004.png" width="118" height="59" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>The Words by Mr.</i> Clossold, <i>Set by Mr.</i><br />
+John <span class="smcap">Wilford</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music144.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music144.png" width="559" height="791" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">N</span>AY pish, nay pish, nay pish Sir, what ails you;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lord! What is&#8217;t you do?</span><br />
+I ne&#8217;er met with one so uncivil as you;<br />
+You may think as you please, but if Evil it be,<br />
+I wou&#8217;d have you to know, you&#8217;re mistaken in me.<br />
+You Men now so rude, and so boistrous are grown,<br />
+A Woman can&#8217;t trust her self with you alone:<br />
+I cannot but wonder what &#8217;tis that shou&#8217;d move ye;<br />
+If you do so again, I swear, I swear, I swear, I swear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I swear I won&#8217;t love ye.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line006.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG. <i>Set by Mr.</i> Motley.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music145.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music145a.png" width="560" height="542" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music145b.png" width="549" height="305" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">D</span>RAW <i>Cupid</i> draw, and make fair <i>Sylvia</i> know;<br />
+The mighty Pain her suff&#8217;ring Swain does for her undergo;<br />
+Convey this Dart into her Heart, and when she&#8217;s set on Fire,<br />
+Do thou return and let her burn, like me in chast desire;<br />
+That by Experience she, may learn to pity me,<br />
+Whene&#8217;er her Eyes do tyrannize o&#8217;er my Captivity:<br />
+But when in Love we jointly move, and tenderly imbrace,<br />
+Like Angels shine, and sweetly join to one another&#8217;s Face.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco006.png" width="208" height="77" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> SONG; <i>The Words by a Person of a Quality. Set to Musick by Mr.</i>
+Robert Cary.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music146.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music146.png" width="553" height="460" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">S</span>Ome brag of their <i>Chloris</i>, and some of their <i>Phillis</i>,<br />
+Some cry up their <i>C&aelig;lia</i>, and bright <i>Amaryllis</i>:<br />
+Thus Poets and Lovers their Mistresses dub,<br />
+And Goddesses fram&#8217;d from the Wash-bowl and Tub;<br />
+But away with these Fictions, and Counterfeit Folly:<br />
+There&#8217;s a thousand more Charms in the Name of my <i>Dolly</i>.<br />
+<br />
+I cannot describe you her Beauty and Wit,<br />
+Like Manna to each she&#8217;s a relishing Bit;<br />
+She alone by Enjoyment, the more does prevail,<br />
+And still with fresh Pleasures does hoist up your Sail:<br />
+Nay, had you a Surfeit, but took of all others,<br />
+One Look from my <i>Dolly</i> your Stomach recovers.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The Mountebank</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Sung by Dr.</i> <span class="smcap">Leverigo</span>, <i>and his merry Andrew</i>
+Pinkanello, <i>in</i> Farewel to Folly. <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Leveridge</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music147.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music147a.png" width="551" height="774" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music147b.png" width="555" height="934" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music147c.png" width="554" height="953" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>Ere are People and Sports<br />
+of all sizes and sorts,<br />
+Coach&#8217;d Damsel with Squire,<br />
+and Mob in the Mire,<br />
+Tarpaulins, Trugmallions,<br />
+Lords, Ladys, Sows,<br />
+Babies, and Loobys in Scores.<br />
+Some howling, some Bawling,<br />
+some Leering, some Fleering,<br />
+some Loving, some Shoving,<br />
+with Legions of Furbelow&#8217;d Whores.<br />
+<br />
+To the Tavern, some go,<br />
+and some to a Show,<br />
+see Poppets for Moppets,<br />
+Jack-puddings, for Cuddens,<br />
+Rope Dancing, Mares Prancing,<br />
+Boats flying, Quacks lying,<br />
+Pick-pockets, pick Plackets,<br />
+Beasts, Butchers, and Beaus.<br />
+<br />
+Fops prat&#8217;ling, Dies rat&#8217;ling,<br />
+Rooks shaming, Puts Daming,<br />
+Whores Painted, Mask&#8217;s tainted,<br />
+in Tallymans Furbelow&#8217;d Cloaths.<br />
+<br />
+The Mobs Joys would you know<br />
+to yon Musick-house go,<br />
+see Tailors, and Saylors,<br />
+Whores Oily in Doily,<br />
+hear Musick, makes you sick:<br />
+Cows Skipping, Clowns tripping,<br />
+some Joaking, some Smoaking, like Spiggit and Tap;<br />
+short Measure, strange Pleasure<br />
+thus Billing, and Swilling,<br />
+some yearly, get fairly,<br />
+for Fairings Pig, Pork, and a Clap.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line011.png" width="533" height="38" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The Mountebank</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set and Sung by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Leveridge</span>, <i>in a New Play
+call&#8217;d</i>, Farewel to Folly.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music148.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music148a.png" width="562" height="725" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music148b.png" width="553" height="949" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music148c.png" width="562" height="941" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music148d.png" width="558" height="928" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">S</span>EE, Sirs, see here! a Doctor rare, who travels much at home!<br />
+Here take my Bills, take my Bills,<br />
+I cure all Ills, past, present, and to come;<br />
+the Cramp, the Stitch, the Squirt, the Itch,<br />
+the Gout, the Stone, the Pox,<br />
+the Mulligrubs, the Bonny Scrubs,<br />
+and all, all, all, all, all, <i>Pandora&#8217;s</i> Box;<br />
+Thousands I&#8217;ve Dissected, Thousands new erected,<br />
+and such Cures effected, as none e&#8217;er can tell.<br />
+<br />
+Let the Palsie shake ye, let the Chollick rack ye,<br />
+let the Crinkums break ye, let the Murrain take ye;<br />
+Take this, take this and you are well.<br />
+Thousands, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Come Wits so keen, devour&#8217;d with Spleen;<br />
+come Beaus who sprain&#8217;d your Backs,<br />
+Great-belly&#8217;d Maids, old founder&#8217;d Jades,<br />
+and Pepper&#8217;d Vizard Cracks.<br />
+<br />
+I soon remove the pains of Love,<br />
+and cure the Love-sick Maid;<br />
+the Hot, the Cold, the Young,<br />
+the Old, the Living and the Dead.<br />
+<br />
+I clear the Lass with Wainscot Face,<br />
+and from Pim-ginets free,<br />
+Plump Ladies Red, like <i>Saracen&#8217;s</i>-head,<br />
+with toaping Rattafe.<br />
+<br />
+This with a Jirk, will do your work,<br />
+and scour you o&#8217;re and o&#8217;re,<br />
+Read, Judge and Try, and if you die,<br />
+never believe me more,<br />
+never, never, never, never, never believe me more.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in the</i> Mock Marriage. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Knight</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i>
+Henry Purcell.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music149.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music149.png" width="553" height="800" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">O</span>H! how you protest and solemnly swear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look humble, and fawn like an Ass;</span><br />
+I&#8217;m pleas&#8217;d, I must own, when ever I see<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A Lover that&#8217;s brought to this pass.</span><br />
+Keep, keep further off, you&#8217;re naughty I fear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I vow I will never, will never, will never yield to&#8217;t;</span><br />
+You ask me in vain; for never I swear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I never, no never, I never, no never,</span><br />
+I never, no never will do&#8217;t.<br />
+<br />
+For when the Deed&#8217;s done, how quickly you go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No more of the Lover remains,</span><br />
+In hast you depart, whate&#8217;er we can do,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And stubbornly throw off your Chains:</span><br />
+Desist then in time, let&#8217;s hear on&#8217;t no more,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I vow I will never yield to&#8217;t;</span><br />
+You promise in vain, in vain you adore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I will never, no never will do&#8217;t.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line017.png" width="505" height="53" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Jockey&#8217;s</span> <i>Lamentation.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music150.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music150a.png" width="551" height="320" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music150b.png" width="549" height="196" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">J</span>O<i>ckey</i> met with <i>Jenny</i> fair<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Betwixt the dawning and the Day,</span><br />
+And <i>Jockey</i> now is full of Care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For <i>Jenny</i> stole his Heart away:</span><br />
+Altho&#8217; she promis&#8217;d to be true,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yet she, alas, has prov&#8217;d unkind,</span><br />
+That which do make poor <i>Jenny</i> rue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For <i>Jenny&#8217;s</i> fickle as the Wind:</span><br />
+And, <i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>The Wind has blown my Plad away.</i><br />
+<br />
+<i>Jockey</i> was a bonny Lad,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As e&#8217;er was born in <i>Scotland</i> fair;</span><br />
+But now poor <i>Jockey</i> is run mad,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For <i>Jenny</i> causes his Despair;</span><br />
+<i>Jockey</i> was a Piper&#8217;s Son,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And fell in Love while he was young:</span><br />
+But all the Tunes that he could play,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was, <i>o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i></span><br />
+And, <i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills and far away,</i><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills and far away,</i><br />
+<i>The Wind has blown my Plad away.</i><br />
+<br />
+When first I saw my <i>Jenny&#8217;s</i> Face,<br />
+She did appear with sike a Grace,<br />
+With muckle Joy my Heart was fill&#8217;d;<br />
+But now alas with Sorrow kill&#8217;d.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span>Oh! was she but as true as fair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Twou&#8217;d put an end to my Despair;</span><br />
+But ah, alass! this is unkind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which sore does terrify my Mind;</span><br />
+<i>&#8217;Twas o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>&#8217;Twas o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>&#8217;Twas o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>That</i> Jenny <i>stole my Heart away.</i><br />
+<br />
+Did she but feel the dismal Woe<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That for her Sake I undergo,</span><br />
+She surely then would grant Relief,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And put an end to all my Grief:</span><br />
+But oh, she is as false as fair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which causes all my sad Despair;</span><br />
+She triumphs in a proud Disdain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And takes Delight to see my Pain;</span><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Hard was my Hap to fall in Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With one that does so faithless prove;</span><br />
+Hard was my fate to court the Maid,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That has my constant Heart betray&#8217;d:</span><br />
+A thousand times to me she swore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She would be true for evermore:</span><br />
+But oh! alas, with Grief I say,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She&#8217;s stole my Heart, and ran away;</span><br />
+<i>&#8217;Twas o&#8217;er the Hills</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+Good gentle <i>Cupid</i> take my part,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And pierce this false one to the Heart,</span><br />
+That she may once but feel the Woe,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As I for her do undergo;</span><br />
+Oh! make her feel this raging Pain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That for her Love I do sustain;</span><br />
+She sure would then more gentle be,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And soon repent her Cruelty;</span><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span>I now must wander for her sake,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since that she will no Pity take,</span><br />
+Into the Woods and shady Grove,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bid adieu to my false Love:</span><br />
+Since she is false whom I adore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I ne&#8217;er will trust a Woman more,</span><br />
+From all their Charms I&#8217;ll fly away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And on my Pipe will sweetly play;</span><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills</i>, &amp;c.<br />
+<br />
+There by my self I&#8217;ll sing and say,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away</i>,</span><br />
+That my poor Heart is gone astray,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which makes me grieve both Night and Day;</span><br />
+Farewel, farewel, thou cruel she,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I fear that I shall die for thee:</span><br />
+But if I live, this Vow I&#8217;ll make,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To love no other for your sake.</span><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>&#8217;Tis o&#8217;er the Hills, and far away,</i><br />
+<i>The Wind has blown my Plad away.</i><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line005.png" width="544" height="29" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg">The Recruiting Officer: <i>Or</i>, The Merry Volunteers: <i>Being an
+Excellent New Copy of Verses upon raising Recruits.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<h3><i>To the foregoing Tune.</i></h3>
+
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>ARK! now the Drums beat up again,<br />
+For all true Soldiers Gentlemen,<br />
+Then let us list, and march I say,<br />
+Over the Hills and far away;<br />
+Over the Hills and o&#8217;er the Main,<br />
+To <i>Flanders</i>, <i>Portugal</i> and <i>Spain</i>,<br />
+Queen <i>Ann</i> commands, and we&#8217;ll obey,<br />
+<i>Over the Hills and far away</i>.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span>All Gentlemen that have a Mind,<br />
+To serve the Queen that&#8217;s good and kind;<br />
+Come list and enter into Pay,<br />
+Then o&#8217;er the Hills and far away;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Here&#8217;s Forty Shillings on the Drum,<br />
+For those that Volunteers do come,<br />
+With Shirts, and Cloaths, and present Pay,<br />
+When o&#8217;er the Hills and far away;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Hear that brave Boys, and let us go,<br />
+Or else we shall be prest you know;<br />
+Then list and enter into Pay,<br />
+And o&#8217;er the Hills and far away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Constables they search about,<br />
+To find such brisk young Fellows out;<br />
+Then let&#8217;s be Volunteers I say,<br />
+Over the Hills and far away;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Since now the <i>French</i> so low are brought,<br />
+And Wealth and Honour&#8217;s to be got,<br />
+Who then behind wou&#8217;d sneaking stay?<br />
+When o&#8217;er the Hills and far away;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+No more from sound of Drum retreat,<br />
+While <i>Marlborough</i>, and <i>Gallaway</i> beat,<br />
+The <i>French</i> and <i>Spaniards</i> every Day,<br />
+When over the Hills and far away;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+He that is forc&#8217;d to go and fight,<br />
+Will never get true Honour by&#8217;t,<br />
+While Volunteers shall win the Day,<br />
+When o&#8217;er the Hills and far away;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span>What tho&#8217; our Friends our Absence mourn,<br />
+We all with Honour shall return;<br />
+And then we&#8217;ll sing both Night and Day,<br />
+Over the Hills and far away;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Prentice <i>Tom</i> he may refuse,<br />
+To wipe his angry Master&#8217;s Shoes;<br />
+For then he&#8217;s free to sing and play,<br />
+Over the Hills and far away;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Over Rivers, Bogs, and Springs,<br />
+We all shall live as great as Kings,<br />
+And Plunder get both Night and Day,<br />
+When over the Hills and far away,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+We then shall lead more happy Lives,<br />
+By getting rid of Brats and Wives,<br />
+That Scold on both Night and Day,<br />
+When o&#8217;er the Hills and far away:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+Come on then Boys and you shall see,<br />
+We every one shall Captains be,<br />
+To Whore and rant as well as they,<br />
+When o&#8217;er the Hills and far away:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+<br />
+For if we go &#8217;tis one to Ten,<br />
+But we return all Gentlemen,<br />
+All Gentlemen as well as they,<br />
+When o&#8217;er the Hills and far away:<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Over the Hills</i>, &amp;c.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco011.png" width="62" height="64" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> Scotch <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">John Barrett</span>.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music151.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music151.png" width="555" height="419" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">A</span>H! foolish Lass, what mun I do?<br />
+My Modesty I well may rue,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which of my Joy bereft me;</span><br />
+For full of Love he came,<br />
+But out of silly shame,<br />
+With pish and phoo I play&#8217;d,<br />
+To muckle the coy Maid,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the raw young Loon has left me.</span><br />
+<br />
+Wou&#8217;d <i>Jockey</i> knew how muckle I lue,<br />
+Did I less Art, or did he shew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More Nature, how bleast I&#8217;d be;</span><br />
+I&#8217;d not have reason to complain,<br />
+That I lue&#8217;d now in vain,<br />
+Gen he more a Man was,<br />
+I&#8217;d be less a coy Lass,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had the raw young Loon weel try&#8217;d me.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in the Comedy call&#8217;d</i> Justice Buisy, <i>or the</i> Gentleman
+Quack: <i>Set by Mr.</i> John Eccles, <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> Bracegirdle.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music152.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music152.png" width="558" height="590" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">N</span>O, no ev&#8217;ry Morning my Beauties renew,<br />
+Where-ever I go, I have Lovers enough;<br />
+I Dress and I Dance, and I Laugh and I Sing,<br />
+Am lovely and lively, and gay as the Spring:<br />
+I Visit, I Game, and I cast away Care,<br />
+Mind Lovers no more, than the Birds of the Air,<br />
+Mind Lovers no more, than the Birds of the Air.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>Set by Mr.</i> WILLIS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music153.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music153.png" width="559" height="866" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">N</span>OW my Freedom&#8217;s regain&#8217;d, and by <i>Bacchus</i> I swear,<br />
+All whining dull whimsys of Love I&#8217;ll cashire:<br />
+The Charm&#8217;s more engaging in Bumpers of Wine,<br />
+Then let <i>Chloe</i> be Damn&#8217;d, but let this be Divine:<br />
+Whilst Youth warms thy Veins, Boy embrace thy full Glasses,<br />
+Damn <i>Cupid</i> and all his poor Proselyte Asses;<br />
+Let this be thy rule <i>Tom</i>, to square out thy Life,<br />
+And when Old in a Friend, thou&#8217;lt live free from all Strife,<br />
+Only envied by him that is plagu&#8217;d with a Wife.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line023.png" width="525" height="83" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> Scotch <span class="smcap">Song</span>, <i>the Words by Mr.</i> Peter<br />
+Noble, <i>Set by Mr.</i> John Wilford.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music154.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music154a.png" width="555" height="360" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music154b.png" width="554" height="216" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">B</span>ONNY <i>Scottish</i> Lads that keens me weel,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lith ye what, ye what good Luck Ise fun;</span><br />
+<i>Moggey</i> is mine own in spight o&#8217;th&#8217; De&#8217;el,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I alone her Heart has won:</span><br />
+Near St. <i>Andrew&#8217;s</i> Kirk in <i>London</i> Town,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There Ise, Ise met my Dearest Joy;</span><br />
+Shinening in her Silken Hued and Gown,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But ne&#8217;er ack, ne&#8217;er ack she prov&#8217;d not Coy.</span><br />
+<br />
+Then after many Compliments,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Streight we gang&#8217;d into the Kirk;</span><br />
+There full weel she tuck the documents,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And flang me many pleasing Smirk:</span><br />
+Weel I weat that I have gear enough,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She&#8217;s have a Yode to ride ont;</span><br />
+She&#8217;s neither drive the Swine, nor the Plough,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whatever does betide ont.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco008.png" width="317" height="72" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">327</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A New</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in the Play call&#8217;d</i>, a <span class="smcap">Duke</span><br />
+and no <span class="smcap">Duke</span>. <i>Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Cibber</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music155.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music155.png" width="559" height="639" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">D</span><i>AMON</i> if you will believe me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis not sighing o&#8217;er the Plain;</span><br />
+Songs nor Sonnets can&#8217;t relieve ye,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Faint Attempts in Love are vain:</span><br />
+Urge but home the fair Occasion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And be Master of the Field;</span><br />
+To a powerful kind Invasion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Twere a Madness not to yield.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">328</a></span>Tho&#8217; she vow&#8217;s she&#8217;ll ne&#8217;er permit ye,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Says you&#8217;re rude, and much to blame;</span><br />
+And with Tears implores your pity,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be not merciful for shame:</span><br />
+When the first assault is over,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Chloris</i> time enough will find;</span><br />
+This so fierce and Cruel Lover,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much more gentle, not so kind.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line018.png" width="515" height="56" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>. <i>The Words made to a Tune of<br />
+the late Mr.</i> Henry Purcell&#8217;s.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music156.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music156.png" width="556" height="540" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">329</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">D</span>RUNK I was last Night that&#8217;s poss,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Wife began to Scold;</span><br />
+Say what I cou&#8217;d for my Heart&#8217;s Blood,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her Clack she wou&#8217;d not hold:</span><br />
+Thus her Chat she did begin,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is this your time of coming in;</span><br />
+The Clock strikes One, you&#8217;ll be undone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If thus you lead your Life:</span><br />
+My Dear said I, I can&#8217;t deny,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But what you say is true;</span><br />
+I do intend, my Life to mend,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray lends the Pot to Spew.</span><br />
+<br />
+Fye, you Sot, I ne&#8217;er can bear,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To rise thus e&#8217;ery Night;</span><br />
+Tho&#8217; like a Beast you never care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What consequence comes by&#8217;t:</span><br />
+The Child and I may starve for you,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We neither can have half our due;</span><br />
+With grief I find, you&#8217;re so unkind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In time you&#8217;ll break my Heart:</span><br />
+At that I smil&#8217;d, and said dear Child,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I believe your in the wrong;</span><br />
+But if&#8217;t shou&#8217;d be you&#8217;re destiny,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll sing a merry Song.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco002.png" width="122" height="184" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">330</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The Gelding the Devil. Set by Mr.</i> Tho.<br />
+Wroth.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music157.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music157.png" width="556" height="586" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">I</span> Met with the Devil in the shape of a Ram,<br />
+Then over and over the Sow-gelder came;<br />
+I rose and halter&#8217;d him fast by the Horns,<br />
+And pick&#8217;d out his Stones, as you would pick out Corns;<br />
+Maa, quoth the Devil, with that out he slunk,<br />
+And left us a Carkass of Mutton that stunk.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">331</a></span>I chanc&#8217;d to ride forth a Mile and a half,<br />
+Where I heard he did live in disguise of a Calf;<br />
+I bound him and Gelt him e&#8217;er he did any evil,<br />
+For he was at the best but a young sucking Devil:<br />
+Maa, yet he cries, and forth he did steal,<br />
+And this was sold after for excellent Veal.<br />
+<br />
+Some half a Year after in the Form of a Pig,<br />
+I met with the Rogue, and he look&#8217;d very big;<br />
+I caught at his Leg, laid him down on a Log,<br />
+E&#8217;er a Man could Fart twice, I made him a Hog:<br />
+Huh, huh quoth the Devil, and gave such a Jerk,<br />
+That a <i>Jew</i> was Converted and eat of that Pork.<br />
+<br />
+In Woman&#8217;s attire I met him most fine,<br />
+At first sight I thought him some Angel divine;<br />
+But viewing his crab Face I fell to my Trade,<br />
+I made him forswear ever acting a Maid:<br />
+Meaw, quoth the Devil, and so ran away,<br />
+Hid himself in a Fryer&#8217;s old Weeds as they say.<br />
+<br />
+I walked along and it was my good chance,<br />
+To meet with a Black-coat that was in a Trance;<br />
+I speedily grip&#8217;d him and whip&#8217;d off his Cods,<br />
+&#8217;Twixt his Head and his Breech, I left little odds:<br />
+O, quoth the Devil, and so away ran,<br />
+Thou oft will be curst by many a Woman.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/deco019.png" width="164" height="116" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">332</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music158.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music158.png" width="555" height="440" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN <i>Jemmy</i> first began to love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was the finest Swain;</span><br />
+That ever yet a Flock had drove,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or Danc&#8217;d upon the Plain:</span><br />
+&#8217;Twas then that I, woe&#8217;s me poor heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My Freedom threw away;</span><br />
+And finding sweets in every part,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I could not say him nay.</span><br />
+<br />
+For ever when he spake of Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He wou&#8217;d his Eyes decline;</span><br />
+Each Sigh he gave a Heart wou&#8217;d move,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good faith, and why not mine:</span><br />
+He&#8217;d press my Hand, and Kiss it oft,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His silence spoke his Flame;</span><br />
+And whilst he treated me thus soft,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wish&#8217;d him more to blame.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">333</a></span>Sometimes to feed my Flock with his,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Jemmy</i> wou&#8217;d me invite;</span><br />
+Where he the finest Songs would Sing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Me only to Delight:</span><br />
+Then all his Graces he display&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which were enough I trow;</span><br />
+To conquer any Princely Maid,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So did he me I trow.</span><br />
+<br />
+But now for <i>Jemmy</i> I must Mourn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He to the Wars must go;</span><br />
+His Sheephook to a Sword must turn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alack what shall I do?</span><br />
+His Bagpipes into Warlike sounds,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must now converted be;</span><br />
+His Garlands into fearful Wounds,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! what becomes of me?</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line003.png" width="551" height="28" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>; <i>to the Tune of</i> Woobourn <i>Fair.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>Vol. 4. Pag. 330.</h3>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">J</span>ILTING is in such a Fashion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: .8em;">And such a Fame,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Runs o&#8217;er the Nation,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There&#8217;s never a Dame</span><br />
+Of highest Rank, or of Fame,<br />
+Sir, but will stoop to your Caresses,<br />
+If you do but put home your Addresses:<br />
+It&#8217;s for that she Paints, and she Patches,<br />
+All she hopes to secure is her Name, Sir.<br />
+<br />
+But when you find the Love fit comes upon her,<br />
+Never trust much to her Honour;<br />
+Tho&#8217; she may very high stand on&#8217;t,<br />
+Yet when her love is Ascendant,<br />
+Her Vertue&#8217;s quite out of Doors<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">334</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">High Breeding, rank Feeding,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With lazy Lives leading,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In Ease and soft Pleasures,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And taking loose Measures,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With Play-house Diversions,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And Midnight Excursions,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With Balls Masquerading,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And Nights Serenading,</span><br />
+Debauch the Sex into Whores, Sir.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line013.png" width="554" height="37" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<h3><i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Pack</span>.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music159.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music159a.png" width="559" height="538" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">335</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music159b.png" width="556" height="209" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">F</span>AREWEL ungrateful Traytor,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Farewel my Perjur&#8217;d Swain:</span><br />
+Let never injur&#8217;d Creature,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Believe a Man again:</span><br />
+The pleasure of possessing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Surpasses all expressing;</span><br />
+But Joys too short a Blessing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And love too long a Pain:</span><br />
+<i>But Joys too short a Blessing,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>And Love too long a Pain.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+&#8217;Tis easie to deceive us,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In pity of your Pain;</span><br />
+But when we Love, you leave us,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To rail at you in vain:</span><br />
+Before we have descry&#8217;d it,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is no Bliss beside it;</span><br />
+But she that once has try&#8217;d it,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will never Love again.</span><br />
+<br />
+The Passion you pretended,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was only to obtain;</span><br />
+But when the Charm is ended,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Charmer you disdain:</span><br />
+Your Love by ours we measure,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Till we have lost our Treasure;</span><br />
+But dying is a Pleasure,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When living is a Pain.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">336</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music160.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music160.png" width="555" height="340" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">Y</span>OU I Love by all that&#8217;s true,<br />
+More than all things here below;<br />
+with a Passion far more great,<br />
+Than e&#8217;er Creature loved yet:<br />
+And yet still you cry forbear,<br />
+Love no more, or Love not here.<br />
+<br />
+Bid the Miser leave his Ore,<br />
+Bid the Wretched sigh no more;<br />
+Bid the Old be young again,<br />
+Bid the <i>Nun</i> not think of Man:<br />
+<i>Sylvia</i> thus when you can do,<br />
+Bid me then not think on you.<br />
+<br />
+Love&#8217;s not a thing of Choice, but Fate,<br />
+What makes me Love, that makes you Hate:<br />
+<i>Sylvia</i> you do what you will,<br />
+Ease or Cure, Torment or Kill:<br />
+Be Kind or Cruel, False or True,<br />
+Love I must, and none but you.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">337</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> SONG.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">Note: <i>You must Sing 8 lines to the first Strain.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music161.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music161.png" width="556" height="293" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">L</span>ET&#8217;s be merry blith and jolly,<br />
+Stupid Dulness is a Folly;<br />
+&#8217;Tis the Spring that doth invite us,<br />
+Hark, the chirping Birds delight us:<br />
+Let us Dance and raise our Voices,<br />
+Every Creature now rejoyces;<br />
+Airy Blasts and springing Flowers,<br />
+Verdant Coverings, pleasant Showers:<br />
+Each plays his part to compleat this our Joy,<br />
+And can we be so dull as to deny.<br />
+<br />
+Here&#8217;s no foolish surly Lover,<br />
+That his Passions will discover;<br />
+No conceited fopish Creature,<br />
+That is proud of Cloaths or Feature:<br />
+All things here serene and free are,<br />
+They&#8217;re not Wise, are not as we are;<br />
+Who acknowledge Heavens Blessings,<br />
+In our innocent Caressings:<br />
+Then let us Sing, let us Dance, let us Play,<br />
+&#8217;Tis the Time is allow&#8217;d, &#8217;tis the Month of <i>May</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">338</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A New</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>, <i>the Words by Mr.</i> J.C.<br />
+<i>Set to Musick by Dr.</i> Prettle.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music162.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music162.png" width="557" height="692" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">N</span>O <i>Phillis</i>, tho&#8217; you&#8217;ve all the Charms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ambitious Woman can desire;</span><br />
+All Beauty, Wit, and Youth that warms,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or sets our foolish Hearts on fire:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">339</a></span>Yet you may practice all your Arts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In vain to make a Slave of me;</span><br />
+You ne&#8217;er shall re-engage my Heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Revolted from your Tyranny:</span><br />
+<i>You ne&#8217;er shall re-engage my Heart,</i><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Revolted from your Tyranny.</i></span><br />
+<br />
+When first I saw those dang&#8217;rous Eyes,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They did my Liberty betray;</span><br />
+But when I knew your Cruelties,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I snatch&#8217;d my simple Heart away:</span><br />
+Now I defy your Smiles to win,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My resolute Heart, no pow&#8217;r th&#8217;ave got;</span><br />
+Tho&#8217; once I suck&#8217;d their Poyson in,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Rigour prov&#8217;d an Antidote.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line011.png" width="533" height="38" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>The Epilogue to the</i> Island Princes, <i>Set by Mr.</i> Clark, <i>Sung by
+Mrs.</i> Lindsey, <i>and the Boy.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music163.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music163a.png" width="553" height="376" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">340</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music163b.png" width="550" height="505" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">N</span>OW to you ye dry Wooers,<br />
+Old Beaus, and no doers,<br />
+So doughty, so gouty,<br />
+So useless and toothless,<br />
+Your blindless, cold kindness,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has nothing of Man;</span><br />
+Still doating, or gloating,<br />
+Still stumbling, or fumbling,<br />
+Still hawking, still baulking,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You flash in the Pan:</span><br />
+Unfit like old Brooms,<br />
+For sweeping our Rooms,<br />
+You&#8217;re sunk and you&#8217;re shrunk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then repent and look to&#8217;t;</span><br />
+In vain you&#8217;re so upish, in vain you&#8217;re so upish.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You&#8217;re down ev&#8217;ry foot.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">341</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> Scotch <span class="smcap">Song</span>, <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">R. Brown</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music164.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music164.png" width="552" height="421" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">J</span><i>OCKEY</i> loves his <i>Moggy</i> dearly,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He gang&#8217;d with her to <i>Perth</i> Fair;</span><br />
+There we Sung and Pip&#8217;d together,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when done, then down I&#8217;d lay her:</span><br />
+I so pull&#8217;d her, and so lull&#8217;d her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both o&#8217;erwhelm&#8217;d with muckle Joy;</span><br />
+<i>Mog.</i> kiss&#8217;d <i>Jockey</i>, <i>Jockey</i> <i>Moggy</i>,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From long Night to break of Day.</span><br />
+<br />
+I told <i>Mog.</i> &#8217;twas muckle pleasing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Moggey</i> cry&#8217;d she&#8217;d do again such;</span><br />
+I reply&#8217;d I&#8217;d glad gang with thee,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But &#8217;twould wast my muckle Coyn much:</span><br />
+She lamented, I relented,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Both wish&#8217;d Bodies might increase;</span><br />
+Then we&#8217;d gang next Year together,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And my Pipe shall never cease.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">342</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>, <i>in the</i> Lucky Younger Brother, <i>or, the</i> Beau Defeated;
+<i>Set by Mr.</i> John Eccles, <i>and Sung by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Bowman</span>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music165.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music165a.png" width="554" height="816" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">343</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music165b.png" width="557" height="419" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">D</span><i>ELIA</i> tir&#8217;d <i>Strephon</i> with her Flame,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While languishing, while languishing she view&#8217;d him;</span><br />
+The well dress&#8217;d Youth despis&#8217;d the Dame,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But still, still; but still the old Fool pursu&#8217;d him:</span><br />
+Some pity on a Wretch bestow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That lyes at your Devotion;</span><br />
+Perhaps near fifty Years ago,<br />
+Perhaps near fifty Years ago,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I might have lik&#8217;d the Motion.</span><br />
+<br />
+If you, proud Youth, my Flame despise,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I&#8217;ll hang me in my Garters;</span><br />
+Why then make hast to win the Prize,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Among loves foolish Martyrs:</span><br />
+Can you see <i>Delia</i> brought so low,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And make her no Requitals?</span><br />
+<i>Delia</i> may to the Devil go, <i>Delia</i> may to the Devil,<br />
+Devil go, to the Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil go for <i>Strephon</i>;<br />
+Stop my Vitals, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop my Vitals.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">344</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>, <i>Set by Mr.</i> John Weldon.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music166.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music166.png" width="554" height="508" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">S</span>WAIN thy hopeless Passion smother,<br />
+Perjur&#8217;d <i>C&aelig;lia</i> loves another;<br />
+In his Arms I saw her lying,<br />
+Panting, Kissing, Trembling, Dying:<br />
+There the Fair deceiver swore,<br />
+As once she did to you before.<br />
+<br />
+Oh! said you, when She deceives me,<br />
+When that Constant Creatures leave me;<br />
+<i>Isis</i> Waters back shall fly,<br />
+And leave their <i>Ouzy</i> Channels dry:<br />
+Turn your Waters, leave your Shore,<br />
+For perjur&#8217;d <i>C&aelig;lia</i> loves no more.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">345</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="blockn">
+<p class="hangxlg"><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in the Comedy call&#8217;d the</i> <span class="smcap">Biter</span>, <i>Set by Mr.</i> John Eccles,
+<i>and Sung by Mr.</i> Cook.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music167.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music167.png" width="554" height="460" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span><i>HLOE</i> blush&#8217;d and frown&#8217;d and swore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And push&#8217;d me rudely from her;</span><br />
+I call&#8217;d her Faithless, Jilting Whore,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To talk to me of Honour:</span><br />
+But when I rose and wou&#8217;d be gone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She cry&#8217;d nay, whither go ye?</span><br />
+Young <i>Damon</i> saw, now we&#8217;re alone,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Do, do, do what you will, do what you will with <i>Chloe</i>:</span><br />
+Do what you will, what you will, what you will with <i>Chloe</i>,<br />
+Do what you will, what you will, what you will with <i>Chloe</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">346</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line006.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>in</i> Rinaldo <i>and</i> Armida: <i>Set by<br />
+Mr.</i> John Eccles. <i>Sung by Mr.</i> Gouge.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music168.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music168a.png" width="556" height="754" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">347</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music168b.png" width="553" height="324" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HE Jolly, Jolly Breeze,<br />
+That comes whistling through the Trees;<br />
+From all the blissful Regions brings,<br />
+Perfumes upon its spicy Wings:<br />
+With its wanton motion curling,<br />
+Curling, curling, curling the crystal Rills,<br />
+Which down, down, down, down the Hills,<br />
+Run, run, run, run, run o&#8217;er Golden gravel purling.<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line009.png" width="553" height="41" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>on the</i> Punch Bowl. <i>To the<br />
+foregoing Tune.</i></h2>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">T</span>HE Jolly, Jolly Bowl,<br />
+That does quench my thirsty Soul;<br />
+When all the mingling Juice is thrown,<br />
+Perfum&#8217;d with fragrant Goar Stone:<br />
+With it&#8217;s wanton Toast too, curling,<br />
+Curling, curling, curling, curling the Nut-brown Riles,<br />
+Which down, down, down, down by the Gills,<br />
+Run through ruby Swallows purling.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">348</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>The</i> PROLOGUE <i>in the</i> Island-Princess,<br />
+<i>Set and Sung by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Leveridge</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music169.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music169.png" width="552" height="830" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">349</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">Y</span>Ou&#8217;ve been with dull Prologues here banter&#8217;d so long,<br />
+They signify nothing, or less than a Song;<br />
+To sing you a Ballad this Tune we thought fit,<br />
+For Sound has oft nickt you, when Sence could not hit:<br />
+Then Ladies be kind, and Gentlemen mind,<br />
+Wit Capers, play Sharpers, loud Bullies, tame Cullies,<br />
+Sow grumblers, Wench Fumblers give ear ev&#8217;ry Man:<br />
+Mobb&#8217;d Sinners in Pinners, kept Foppers, Bench-hoppers,<br />
+High-Flyers, Pit-Plyers, be still if you can:<br />
+You&#8217;re all in Damnation, you&#8217;re all in Damnation for Leading the Van.<br />
+<br />
+Ye Side-Box Gallants, whom the vulgar call Beaus,<br />
+Admirers of Self, and nice Judges of Cloaths;<br />
+Who now the War&#8217;s over cross boldly the Main,<br />
+Yet ne&#8217;er were at Seiges, unless at Campaign:<br />
+Spare all on the Stage, Love in every Age,<br />
+Young Tattles, Wild Rattles, Fan-Tearers, Mask-Fleerers,<br />
+Old Coasters, Love boasters, who set up for Truth:<br />
+Young Graces, Black Faces, some Faded, some Jaded,<br />
+Old Mothers, and others, who&#8217;ve yet a Colt&#8217;s Tooth:<br />
+See us Act that in Winter, you&#8217;d all Act in Youth.<br />
+<br />
+You Gallery Haunters, who love to lye snug,<br />
+And maunch Apples or Cakes, while some Neighbour you hugg;<br />
+Ye lofties, Genteels, who above us all sit,<br />
+And look down with Contempt, on the Mob in the Pit,<br />
+Here&#8217;s what you like best, Jigg, Song and the rest,<br />
+Free Laughers, close Graffers, dry Jokers, old Soakers,<br />
+Kind Cousins, by Dozens, your Customs don&#8217;t break:<br />
+Sly Spouses with Blouses, grave Horners, in Corners,<br />
+Kind No-wits, save Poets, clap &#8217;till your Hands ake,<br />
+And tho&#8217; the Wits Damn us, we&#8217;ll say the Whims take.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">350</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span> <i>Set by Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">John Barrett</span>, <i>and<br />
+Sung by Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Lindsey</span>.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music170.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music170.png" width="555" height="707" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">C</span><i>&AElig;LIA</i> hence with Affectation,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hence with all this careless Air;</span><br />
+Hypocrisy is out of Fashion,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the Witty and the Fair:</span><br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">351</a></span>Nature all thy Arts discloses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the Pleasures she supplies;</span><br />
+Paint thy glowing Cheeks with Roses,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And inflame thy sparkling Eyes.</span><br />
+<br />
+Foolish <i>C&aelig;lia</i> not to know,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Love thy Int&#8217;rest and thy Duty;</span><br />
+Thou to love alone dost owe,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All thy Joy, and all thy Beauty:</span><br />
+Mark the tuneful Feather&#8217;d kind,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the coming of the Spring;</span><br />
+All in happy Pairs are joyn&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And because they love they Sing.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/line010.png" width="533" height="38" alt="" title="" />
+</p>
+
+<h2><i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Song</span>, <i>Set by Mr.</i> CLARK.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">[<a href="music/music171.mid">Listen</a>]</p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music171a.png" width="559" height="476" alt="music" title="music" />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">352</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="centerp">
+<img src="images/music171b.png" width="553" height="309" alt="music continued" title="music continued" />
+</p>
+
+<div class="words">
+<p>
+<span class="dropcap">H</span>OW often have I curs&#8217;d that sable Deceit,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For making me wish and admire;</span><br />
+And rifle poor <i>Ovid</i> to learn to intreat,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Reason might check my desire:</span><br />
+For sagely of late it has been disclos&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There&#8217;s nothing, nothing conceal&#8217;d uncommon;</span><br />
+No Miracles under a Mask repos&#8217;d,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When knowing <i>Cynthia&#8217;s</i> a Woman.</span><br />
+<br />
+Tho&#8217; Beauty&#8217;s great Charms our Sences delude,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">&#8217;Tis the Centre attracts our Needle;</span><br />
+And Love&#8217;s a Jest when thought to intrude,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The design of it to unriddle:</span><br />
+A Virgin may show strange coyness in Love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And tell you Chimera&#8217;s of Honour;</span><br />
+But give her her Wish, the Man she approves,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No Labour he&#8217;ll have to win her.</span><br />
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="centerp"><br /><span class="gesplg"><b>FINIS.</b></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge
+Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6, by Various
+
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,9878 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge
+Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Thomas d'Urfey
+
+Release Date: September 21, 2008 [EBook #26679]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND MIRTH, VOL. 5 OF 6 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Newman, Linda Cantoni, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. Music
+transcribed by Linda Cantoni.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note: This e-book is volume 5 of Thomas D'Urfey's _Wit
+and Mirth: Or Pills to Purge Melancholy_, published in six volumes in
+1719-20 by J. Tonson, London. It was prepared from a 1959 facsimile
+reprint by Folklore Library Publishers, Inc., New York, of an 1876
+reprint (publisher unidentified).
+
+The 1719-20 edition was published in two issues. The first issue was
+published under the title _Songs Compleat, Pleasant and Divertive_;
+the second, under the _Wit and Mirth_ title. The 1876 reprint
+apparently used a combination of the two issues, and volume 5 bears
+the _Songs Compleat_ title. Moreover, the 1876 reprint was not an
+exact facsimile of the 1719-20 edition, as the typography and music
+notation were modernized. For more information on the various
+editions, see Cyrus L. Day, "Pills to Purge Melancholy," _The Review
+of English Studies_, Vol. 8, No. 30 (Apr. 1932), pp. 177-184,
+available at http://www.jstor.org/stable/508831 (login required).
+
+Archaic and inconsistent spellings and hyphenation have been preserved
+as they appear in the original, except that "VV" is rendered as "W."
+The original order of titles in the Alphabetical Table has also been
+preserved. Obvious printer errors have been corrected.
+
+Some words are rendered in the original in blackletter font. They are
+rendered here in uppercase letters. Italics are indicated with
+underscores.]
+
+
+
+
+WIT and MIRTH:
+
+OR
+
+PILLS TO PURGE MELANCHOLY
+
+
+EDITED BY
+THOMAS D'URFEY
+
+
+IN SIX VOLUMES
+VOLUME V
+
+
+FOLKLORE LIBRARY PUBLISHERS, INC.
+NEW YORK
+1959
+
+
+_This edition is a facsimile reproduction
+of the 1876 reprint of
+the original edition of 1719-1720._
+
+Copyright (C) 1959
+
+PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
+by Noble Offset Printers, Inc.
+New York 3, New York
+
+
+
+
+SONGS Compleat,
+
+Pleasant and Divertive;
+
+SET TO
+
+MUSICK
+
+By Dr. JOHN BLOW, Mr. HENRY PURCELL,
+and other Excellent Masters of the Town.
+
+Ending with some ORATIONS, made and
+spoken by me several times upon the
+PUBLICK STAGE in the THEATER. Together
+with some Copies of VERSES, PROLOGUES,
+and EPILOGUES, as well as for my
+own PLAYS as those of other Poets, being
+all Humerous and Comical.
+
+VOL. V.
+
+_LONDON:_
+
+Printed by _W. Pearson_, for _J. Tonson_, at
+SHAKESPEAR'S Head, against _Catherine_
+Street in the _Strand_, 1719.
+
+
+
+
+AN
+
+Alphabetical TABLE
+
+OF THE
+
+SONGS and POEMS
+
+Contain'd in this
+
+BOOK.
+
+
+                                               Page
+
+A
+
+_All Christians and_ Lay-Elders _too_,            1
+
+_As I went by an Hospital_,                      29
+
+_A Shepherd kept Sheep on a_,                    35
+
+_As I was a walking under a Grove_,              37
+
+_A Councel grave our King did hold_,             49
+
+_A Heroe of no small Renown_,                    56
+
+_As the Fryer he went along_,                    58
+
+_A Bonny Lad came to the Court_,                 88
+
+_A Pox on those Fools, who exclaim_,             91
+
+_Amongst the pure ones all_,                    105
+
+_As Oyster_ Nan _stood by her Tub_,             107
+
+_Ah!_ Caelia _how can you be_,                   111
+
+_Are you grown so Melancholy_,                  118
+
+_As_ Collin _went from his Sheep_,              122
+
+_A Wife I do hate_,                             173
+
+_A Thousand several ways I try'd_,              181
+
+_A_ Whig _that's full_,                         207
+
+_As_ Cupid _roguishly one Day_,                 217
+
+_A Young Man sick and like to die_,             267
+
+_At Noon in a sultry Summer's Day_,             282
+
+_Ah! how lovely sweet and dear_,                287
+
+_Advance, advance, advance gay_,                288
+
+_Ah! foolish Lass, what mun I do_,              322
+
+
+B
+
+_Bold impudent_ Fuller _invented_,                5
+
+_By Moon-light on the Green_,                   103
+
+_Bonny_ Peggy Ramsey _that any_,                139
+
+_By shady Woods and purling_,                   161
+
+Belinda! _why do you distrust_,                 213
+
+_Born to surprize the World_,                   250
+
+_Bring out your Coney-Skins_,                   303
+
+_Bonny_ Scottish _Lads that keens_,             326
+
+
+C
+
+_Come bring us Wine in Plenty_,                  15
+
+_Come pretty Birds present your_,               120
+
+_Come fill up the Bowl with_,                   138
+
+_Cease lovely_ Strephon, _cease to_,            189
+
+_Cease whining_ Damon _to complain_,            202
+
+Caelia _my Heart has often rang'd_,              230
+
+Corinna, _if my Fate's to love you_,            254
+
+Caelia's _Charms are past expressing_,           257
+
+_Come Beaus, Virtuoso's, rich Heirs_,           265
+
+_Cease, cease of_ Cupid _to complain_,          298
+
+_Come, come ye Nymphs_,                         300
+
+Chloe _blush'd, and frown'd, and swore_,        345
+
+Caelia _hence with Affectation_,                 350
+
+
+D
+
+_Did you not hear of a gallant_,                 80
+
+_Divine_ Astrea _hither flew_,                  275
+
+_Draw_ Cupid _draw, and make_,                  306
+
+Damon _if you will believe me_,                 327
+
+_Drunk I was last Night that's_,                329
+
+Delia _tir'd_ Strephon _with her_,              343
+
+
+F
+
+_Fair_ Caelia _too fondly contemns_,             169
+
+_Fly_ Damon _fly, 'tis Death to stay_,          247
+
+_Fear not Mortal, none shall harm_,             248
+
+_Farewel ungrateful Traytor_,                   335
+
+
+G
+
+Gilderoy _was a bonny Boy_,                      39
+
+_Good Neighbour why do you_,                     73
+
+
+H
+
+_How now Sister_ Betteris, _why look_,           68
+
+_Heaven first created Woman to_,                135
+
+_Hears not my_ Phillis _how_,                   149
+
+_How happy's the Mortal whose_,                 179
+
+_He himself courts his own Ruin_,               188
+
+_How happy and free is the_,                    193
+
+_How charming_ Phillis _is_,                    201
+
+_Hither turn thee, hither turn thee_,           211
+
+_Here lies_ William de Valence,                 220
+
+_Ho my dear Joy, now what dost_,                240
+
+_Here's a Health to the Tackers_,               284
+
+_Here are People and Sports of_,                308
+
+_Hark! now the Drums beat up again_,            319
+
+_How often have I curs'd that sable Deceit_,    352
+
+
+I
+
+_I am a young Lass of_ Lynn,                     59
+
+_I am a jovial Cobler bold and_,                 75
+
+_It was a Rich Merchant Man_,                    77
+
+_If Sorrow the Tyrant invade_,                   83
+
+_In the pleasant Month of_ May,                 101
+
+_It was a happy Golden Day_,                    110
+
+_I prithee send me back my Heart_,              143
+
+_In_ Chloris _all soft Charms agree_,           162
+
+_I lik'd, but never lov'd before_,              171
+
+Iris _beware when_ Strephon _pursues_,          199
+
+_I am one in whom Nature has_,                  241
+
+_In vain, in vain, the God I ask_,              251
+
+_In the Devil's Country there_,                 271
+
+_In elder Time, there was of_ Yore,             289
+
+Ianthia _the lovely, the Joy of_,               301
+
+Jockey _met with_ Jenny _fair_,                 317
+
+_I met with the Devil in the_,                  330
+
+_Jilting is in such a Fashion_,                 333
+
+Jockey _loves his_ Moggy _dearly_,              341
+
+
+L
+
+_Let the Females attend_,                         8
+
+_Let's be jolly, fill our Glasses_,              16
+
+_Let's sing of Stage-Coaches_,                   20
+
+_Last_ Christmas _'twas my chance_,              25
+
+_Lately as thorough the fair_,                   44
+
+_Let Soldiers fight for Pay and Praise_,        145
+
+_Long had_ Damon _been admir'd_,                158
+
+Laurinda, _who did love Disdain_,               167
+
+_Let Ambition fire thy Mind_,                   205
+
+_Long was the Day e'er_ Alexis,                 214
+
+_Let's be merry, blith and jolly_,              337
+
+
+M
+
+_My Friend if you would understand_,             94
+
+_Marriage it seems is for better_,              272
+
+
+N
+
+_No more let_ Damon's _Eyes pursue_,            239
+
+_Nay pish, nay pish, nay pish Sir_,             305
+
+_No, no every Morning my_,                      323
+
+_Now my Freedom's regain'd_,                    325
+
+_No_, Phillis, _tho' you've all the Charms_,    338
+
+_Now to you ye dry Wooers_,                     340
+
+
+O
+
+_Once more to these Arms my_,                    92
+
+_One Night in my Ramble I_,                     109
+
+_Oh! let no Eyes be dry_,                       130
+
+_Old_ Lewis le Grand, _he raves like_,          151
+
+_Of old Soldiers, the Song you_,                217
+
+_Of late in the Park a fair Fancy_,             243
+
+_Oh! how you protest and solemnly_,             316
+
+
+P
+
+Philander _and_ Sylvia, _a gentle_,             140
+
+_Poor_ Jenny _and I we toiled_,                 146
+
+_Pretty_ Floramel, _no Tongue can_,             160
+
+_Plague us not with idle Stories_,              204
+
+_Poor_ Mountfort _is gone, and the_,            244
+
+_Pretty Parrot say, when I was_,                280
+
+
+S
+
+_State and Ambition, all Joy to_,                11
+
+_Stay, stay, shut the Gates_,                    85
+
+_Slaves to_ London _I'll deceive you_,          114
+
+_Stay, ah stay, ah turn, ah whither_,           237
+
+_See how fair and fine she lies_,               252
+
+_Since_ Caelia _only has the Art_,               286
+
+_Some brag of their_ Chloris,                   307
+
+_See, Sirs, see here! a Doctor rare_,           311
+
+_Swain thy hopeless Passion smother_,           344
+
+
+T
+
+_There was an old Woman liv'd_,                  13
+
+_The Suburbs is a fine Place_,                   27
+
+_There can be no Glad man_,                      32
+
+_Then_ Jockey _wou'd a wooing away_,             42
+
+_There was a Lass of_ Islington,                 46
+
+_There was a Lord of worthy Fame_,               53
+
+_There was a Jovial Tinker_,                     62
+
+_There is a fine Doctor now come_,               71
+
+_There was a Knight and he_,                    112
+
+_Think wretched Mortal, think_,                 134
+
+_To the Wars I must alass_,                     137
+
+_Though the Pride of my Passion fair_,          156
+
+_Tell me ye_ Sicilian _Swains_,                 175
+
+_To the Grove, gentle Love, let_,               182
+
+_Tell me no more of Flames in_,                 183
+
+_Tho' Fortune and Love may be_,                 186
+
+_That little Patch upon your Face_,             197
+
+_Tho' over all Mankind, besides my_,            233
+
+_There lives an Ale-draper near_,               259
+
+_The Caffalier was gone, and the_,              274
+
+_The_ Devil _he pull'd off his Jacket_,         278
+
+_The Jolly, Jolly Breeze_,                      347
+
+_The Jolly, Jolly Bowl_,                        ib.
+
+
+U
+
+_Upon a Holiday, when Nymphs_,                   87
+
+
+W
+
+_Where gott'st thou the_ Haver-mill,             17
+
+_When first_ Mardyke _was made_,                 65
+
+_When Maids live to Thirty, yet never_,          99
+
+_What Life can compare, with the_,              125
+
+_With my Strings of small Wire_,                128
+
+_When that young_ Damon _bless'd_,              131
+
+_Would you be a Man in Fashion_,                154
+
+_When first I fair_ Celinda _knew_,             157
+
+_When busy Fame o'er all the_,                  164
+
+_Why am I the only Creature_,                   165
+
+_Where would coy_ Amyntas _run_,                172
+
+_When gay_ Philander _left the Plain_,          177
+
+_Wealth breeds Care, Love, Hope_,               185
+
+_When first_ Amyntas _charmed my_,              192
+
+_Why so pale and wan fond Lover_,               195
+
+_When I languish'd and wish'd you_,             209
+
+_When first I saw her charming Face_,           277
+
+_While the Love is thinking_,                   283
+
+_When_ Jemmy _first began to love_,             332
+
+
+Y
+
+_You Master Colours pray_,                       22
+
+_Ye brave Boys and Tars_,                       115
+
+_Young_ Coridon _and_ Phillis,                  126
+
+_Your Hay it is mow'd, and your_,               142
+
+_You happy Youths, whose Hearts_,               191
+
+_Young Ladies that live in the_,                262
+
+_You I love by all that's true_,                336
+
+_You've been with dull Prologues_,              349
+
+
+
+
+SONGS Compleat,
+
+Pleasant and Divertive, &c.
+
+VOL. V.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ FOUR-LEGG'D ELDER: _Or a Horrible Relation of a_ DOG _and an_
+Elder's MAID.
+
+
+_By Sir_ John Burtonhead.
+
+[Music]
+
+All Christians and _Lay-Elders_ too,
+  For Shame amend your Lives;
+I'll tell you of a Dog-trick now,
+  Which much concerns you Wives:
+An _Elder's_ Maid near _Temple-Bar_,
+  (Ah! what a Quean was she?)
+Did take an ugly Mastiff Cur,
+  Where Christians use to be.
+    _Help House of Commons, House of Peers,_
+      _Oh now or never help!_
+    _Th' Assembly hath not sat Four Years,_
+      _Yet hath brought forth a Whelp._
+
+One Evening late she stept aside,
+  Pretending to fetch Eggs;
+And there she made her self a Bride,
+  To one that had four Legs:
+Her Master heard a Rumblement,
+  And wonder she did tarry;
+Not dreaming (without his consent)
+  His Dog would ever Marry.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+He went to peep, but was afraid,
+  And hastily did run,
+To fetch a Staff to help his Maid,
+  Not knowing what was done:
+He took his _Ruling Elders_ Cane,
+  And cry'd out _help, help, here_;
+For _Swash_ our Mastiff, and poor _Jane_,
+  Are now fight Dog, fight Bear.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+But when he came he was full sorry,
+  For he perceiv'd their Strife;
+That according to the _Directory_,
+  They Two were Dog and Wife:
+Ah! (then said he) thou cruel Quean,
+  Why hast thou me beguil'd?
+I wonder _Swash_ was grown so lean,
+  Poor Dog he's almost spoil'd.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+I thought thou hadst no Carnal Sense,
+  But what's in our Lasses:
+And could have quench'd thy Cupiscence,
+  According to the _Classes_:
+But all the Parish see it plain,
+  Since thou art in this pickle;
+Thou art an INDEPENDENT Quean,
+  And lov'st a CONVENTICLE.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Alas now each _Malignant_ Rogue,
+  Will all the World perswade;
+That she that's Spouse unto a Dog,
+  May be an _Elder's_ Maid:
+They'll jeer us if abroad we stir,
+  Good Master _Elder_ stay;
+Sir, of what _Classis_ is your Cur?
+  And then what can we say?
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+They'll many graceless Ballads sing,
+  Of a PRESBYTERIAN;
+That a _Lay Elder_ is a thing
+  Made up half Dog, half Man:
+Out, out, said he, (and smote her down)
+  Was Mankind grown so scant?
+There's scarce another Dog in Town,
+  Had took the COVENANT.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Then _Swash_ began to look full grim,
+  And _Jane_ did thus reply;
+Sir, you thought nought too good for him,
+  You fed your Dog too high:
+'Tis true he took me in the lurch,
+  And leap'd into my Arms;
+But (as I hope to come at Church)
+  I did your Dog no harm.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Then she was brought to _Newgate_ Gaol,
+  And there was Naked stripp'd;
+They whipp'd her till the Cords did fail,
+  As Dogs us'd to be whipp'd:
+Poor City Maids shed many a Tear,
+  When she was lash'd and bang'd;
+And had she been a _Cavalier_,
+  Surely she had been hang'd.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Hers was but _Fornication_ found,
+  For which she felt the Lash:
+But his was _Bugg'ry_ presum'd,
+  Therefore they hanged _Swash_:
+What will become of _Bishops_ then,
+  Or _Independency_?
+For now we find both Dogs and Men,
+  Stand up for PRESBYTRY.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+She might have took a _Sow-gelder_,
+  With _Synod-men_ good store,
+But she would have a _Lay-Elder_,
+  With Two Legs and Two more:
+Go tell the _Assembly_ of Divines,
+  Tell Adoniram blue;
+Tell _Burgess_, _Marshall_, _Case_ and _Vines_,
+  Tell _Now-and-Anon_ too.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Some say she was a _Scottish_ Girl,
+  Or else (at least) a Witch;
+But she was born in _Colchester_,
+  Was ever such a Bitch:
+Take heed all Christian Virgins now,
+  The _Dog-Star_ now prevails;
+Ladys beware your Monkeys too,
+  For Monkeys have long Tails.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+Bless _King_ and _Queen_, and send us Peace,
+  As we had Seven Years since:
+For we remember no _Dog-days_,
+  While we enjoy'd our Prince:
+Bless sweet Prince _Charles_, Two _Dukes_, Three Girls,
+  Lord save his _Majesty_;
+Grant that his _Commons_, _Lords_, and _Earls_,
+  May lead such lives as _He_.
+    _Help House of Commons_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_Plain Proof Ruin'd: Or, a Grand_ CHEAT _Discover'd._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Bold Impudent _Fuller_ invented a Plot,
+And all to discover the Devil knows what;
+About a young Bantling strangely begot.
+  _Which no body can deny._
+
+The better to cheat both the Fools and the Wise,
+He Impos'd on a Nation a Hundred of Lies;
+That none but a Knight of the Post could devise.
+  _Which no body can deny._
+
+He tells us he had the Honour to peep,
+In the Warming-pan where the _Welch_ Infant did sleep;
+And found out a Plot which was Damnable deep,
+  _Which no Body can believe._
+
+Then to the Wise Senate he suddenly went,
+Where he told all the Lies that he then could invent,
+For which he was Voted a Rogue by consent,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+And tho' he was Punish'd for that his Offence,
+He has almost forgot it, it was so long since,
+Therefore the whole Game he began to Commence,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+Then he to the Lords his bold Letters did send,
+And told the high Peers, that the Plot he could mend,
+And make it as plain, as he first did pretend,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+He told them his Witnesses were mighty Men,
+That wou'd come to the Town, tho' the Devil knows when,
+And make _William Fuller_ once famous agen,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+The Lords they were Generous, Noble and Kind,
+And allowed him Freedom his 'Squires to find,
+The which he will do when the Devil is Blind,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+So the Peers they declared him a scandalous Sot,
+And none thinks him fit to manage a Plot,
+If _Newgate_ and _Tyburn_ does fall to his Lot,
+  _There's no Body will deny._
+
+They gave him no more time than himself did require,
+To find out his _Jones_ and the wandering 'Squire,
+But the time being come, they were never the nigher,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+The brave House of _Commons_ next for him did send,
+To hear what the Block-headly Fool wou'd pretend,
+Who humbly request, that they wou'd him befriend,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+One day he declar'd they were near _London_ Town,
+But the very next Day into _Wales_ they were flown,
+Such nimble Heel'd Witnessess never were known,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+When being Examin'd about his sham Plot,
+He answer'd as though he had minded them not,
+Perhaps the Young Rogue had his Lesson forgot,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+But after some Study and impudent Tales,
+Ask'd for a Commission to march into _Wales_,
+And be Chang'd to a Herse, as Rogues goes to Gaols,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+But seeing his Impudence still to abound,
+To go search for the Men who were not to be found,
+They immediately sent him back to _Fleet_ Pound,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+From the _Fleet_ to the Cart may he quickly advance
+To learn the true Steps of old _Oates's_ New Dance,
+And something beside, or it is a great Chance,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+He has made it a Trade to be doing of Wrong,
+In Swearing, and Lying, and Cheating so long,
+For all his Life time, he's been at it ding dong,
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+_Welch Taffy_ he raves and crys Splutterdenails,
+He's abused hur Highness with Lies and with Tales,
+Hur will hang hur if e'er hur can catch hur in _Wales_,
+  _Which no Body will deny._
+
+
+
+
+_The Woman Warrior._
+
+_Who liv'd in_ COW-CROSS _near_ WEST-SMITHFIELD; _who changing her
+Apparrel, entered her self on Board in Quality of a Soldier, and
+sailed to_ IRELAND, _where she Valiantly behaved her self,
+particularly at the Siege of_ CORK, _where she lost her Toes, and
+received a Mortal Wound in her Body, of which she since Died in her
+return to_ LONDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+
+Let the Females attend,
+To the Lines which are penn'd,
+  For here I shall give a Relation;
+Of a Young marry'd Wife,
+Who did venture her Life,
+  For a Soldier, a Soldier she went from the Nation.
+
+She her Husband did leave,
+And did likewise receive
+  Her Arms, and on Board she did enter;
+And right valiantly went,
+With a Resolution bent,
+  To the Ocean, the Ocean her Life there to venture.
+
+Yet of all the Ships Crew,
+Not a Seaman that knew,
+  They then had a Woman so near 'em;
+On the Ocean so deep,
+She her Council did keep,
+  Ay, and therefore, and therefore she never did fear 'em.
+
+She was valiant and bold,
+And would not be controul'd,
+  By any that dare to offend her;
+If a Quarrel arose,
+She would give him dry Blows,
+  And the Captain, the Captain did highly commend her.
+
+For he took her to be,
+Then of no mean Degree,
+  A Gentleman's Son or a 'Squire;
+With a Hand white and fair,
+There was none could compare,
+  Which the Captain, the Captain did often admire.
+
+On the _Irish_ Shore,
+Where the Cannons did roar,
+  With many stout Lads she was landed;
+There her Life to expose,
+She lost two of her Toes,
+  And in Battle, in Battle was daily commended.
+
+Under _Grafton_ she fought,
+Like a brave Hero stout,
+  And made the proud Tories retire;
+She in Field did appear,
+With a Heart void of Fear,
+  And she bravely, she bravely did charge and give fire.
+
+While the battering Balls,
+Did assault the strong Walls,
+  Of _Cork_ and the sweet Trumpets sounded;
+She did bravely advance,
+Where by unhappy Chance,
+  This young Female, young Female alass she was wounded.
+
+At the End of the Fray,
+Still she languishing lay,
+  Then over the Ocean they brought her;
+To her own Native Shore,
+Now they ne'er knew before,
+  That a Woman, a Woman had been in that Slaughter.
+
+What she long had conceal'd,
+Now at length she reveal'd,
+  That she was a Woman that ventur'd;
+Then to _London_ with care,
+She did straitways repair,
+  But she dy'd, oh she dy'd e'er the City she enter'd.
+
+When her Parents beheld,
+They with Sorrow was fill'd,
+  For why they did dearly adore her:
+In her Grave now she lies,
+'Tis not watery Eyes,
+  No nor Sighing, nor Sighing that e'er can restore her.
+
+
+
+
+_A Medly, Compos'd out of several_ SONGS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+State and Ambition, all Joy to great _Caesar_,
+  _Sawney_ shall ne'er be my Colly my Cow;
+All Hail to the Shades, all Joy to the Bridegroom,
+  And call upon _Dobbin_ with Hi, Je, ho.
+Remember ye Whigs, what was formerly done;
+  And _Jenny_ come tye my bonny Cravat,
+If I live to grow old for I find I go down,
+  For I cannot come every Day to Wooe.
+
+_Jove_ in his Throne was a Fumbler, _Tom Farthing_,
+  And _Jockey_ and _Jenny_ together did lie;
+Oh Mother _Roger_: Boys, fill us a Bumper,
+  For why will ye die my poor _Caelia_, ah why?
+Hark! how thundring Cannons do roar,
+  Ladies of _London_ both wealthy and fair;
+_Charon_ make hast and Ferry me over,
+  Lilli burlero bullen a lah.
+
+_Chloris_ awake, Four-pence-half-penny-farthing,
+  Give me the Lass that is true Country bred;
+Like _John_ of _Gaunt_ I walk in _Covent-Garden_,
+  I am a Maid and a very good Maid:
+Twa bonny Lads was _Sawney_ and _Jockey_,
+  The Delights of the Bottle and Charms of good Wine;
+Wading the Water so deep my sweet _Moggy_,
+  Cold and Raw, let it run in the right Line.
+
+Old _Obadiah_ sings _Ave-Maria_,
+  Sing Lulla-by-Baby with a Dildo;
+The old Woman and her Cat sat by the Fire,
+  Now this is my Love d'y' like her ho?
+Old _Charon_ thus preached to his Pupil _Achilles_,
+  And under this Stone here lies _Gabriel John_;
+Happy was I at the fight of Fair _Phillis_,
+What should a Young Woman do with an old Man?
+
+There's old Father _Peters_ with his Romish Creatures,
+  There was an old Woman sold Pudding and Pies,
+Cannons with Thunder shall fill them with Wonder,
+  I once lov'd a Lass that had bright rowling Eyes:
+There's my Maid _Mary_, she does mind her Dairy,
+  I took to my Heels and away I did run;
+And bids him prepare to be happy to Morrow,
+  Alass! I don't know the right end of a Gun.
+
+My Life and Death does lye both in your Power,
+  And every Man to his Mind, _Shrewsbury_ for me;
+On the Bank of a Brook as I sat Fishing,
+  Shall I Die a Maid and never Married be:
+Uds bobs let _Oliver_ now be forgotten,
+  _Joan_ is as good as my Lady in the Dark;
+Cuckolds are Christians Boys all the World over,
+  And here's a full Bumper to _Robin John Clark_.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ TROOPER _Watering his_ NAGG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There was an old Woman liv'd under a Hill,
+  Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo;
+She had good Beer and Ale for to sell,
+  Ho, ho, had she so, had she so, had she so;
+She had a Daughter her name was _Siss_,
+  Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo;
+She kept her at Home for to welcome her Guest,
+  Ho, ho, did she so, did she so, did she so.
+
+There came a Trooper riding by,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+He call'd for Drink most plentifully,
+  Ho, ho, did he so, _&c._
+When one Pot was out he call'd for another,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+He kiss'd the Daughter before the Mother,
+  Ho, ho, did he so, _&c._
+
+And when Night came on to Bed they went,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+It was with the Mother's own Consent,
+  Ho, ho, was it so, _&c._
+Quoth she what is this so stiff and warm,
+  Sing trolly _&c._
+'Tis Ball my Nag he will do you no harm,
+  Ho, ho, wont he so, _&c._
+
+But what is this hangs under his Chin,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+'Tis the Bag he puts his Provender in,
+  Ho, ho, is it so, _&c._
+Quoth he what is this? Quoth she 'tis a Well,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+Where Ball your Nag may drink his fill,
+  Ho, ho, may he so, _&c._
+
+But what if my Nag should chance to slip in,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+Then catch hold of the Grass that grows on the brim,
+  Ho, ho, must I so, _&c._
+But what if the Grass should chance to fail,
+  Sing trolly, _&c._
+Shove him in by the Head, pull him out by the Tail,
+  Ho, ho, must I so, _&c._
+
+
+
+
+_A Trip to the_ Jubilee. _The Tune by Mr._ R. Loe.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come bring us Wine in plenty,
+  We've Money enough to spend;
+I hate to see the Pots empty,
+  A Man cannot Drink to's Friend:
+Then drawer bring up more Wine,
+And merrily let it pass;
+We'll drink till our Faces do shine,
+He that wont may look like an Ass:
+And we'll tell him so to his Face,
+If he offers to baulk his Glass,
+For we defy all such dull Society.
+
+'Tis drinking makes us merry,
+  And Mirth diverts all Care;
+A Song of hey down derry,
+  Is better than heavy Air:
+Make ready quickly my Boys,
+And fill up your Glasses higher;
+For we'll present with Huzzas,
+And merrily all give fire;
+Since drinking's our desire,
+And friendship we admire,
+For here we'll stay, ne'er call Drawer what's to pay.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ GOOD FELLOW.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Let's be jolly, fill our Glasses,
+  Madness 'tis for us to think,
+How the World is rul'd by Asses,
+  That o'ersway the Wise with Chink:
+Let not such vain Thoughts oppress us,
+  Riches prove to them a Snare;
+We are all as rich as _Croesus_,
+  Drink your Glasses, take no care.
+
+Wine will make us fresh as Roses,
+  And our Sorrows all forgot;
+Let us fuddle well our Noses,
+  Drink ourselves quite out of Debt:
+When grim Death is looking for us,
+  Whilst we're singing o'er our Bowls;
+_Bacchus_ joyning in our Chorus,
+  Death depart, here's none but Souls.
+
+
+
+
+JOCKEY'S _Escape from_ DUNDEE; _and the Parsons Daughter whom he had
+Mow'd._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Where gott'st thou the _Haver-mill bonack_?
+  Blind Booby can'st thou not see;
+Ise got it out of the _Scotch-man's_ Wallet,
+  As he lig lousing him under a Tree:
+_Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,_
+_Come Saddle my Horse, and call up my Man;_
+  _Come open the Gates, and let me go free,_
+  _And shew me the way to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+For I have neither robbed nor stole,
+  Nor have I done any injury;
+But I have gotten a Fair Maid with Child,
+  The Minister's Daughter of bonny _Dundee_:
+_Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,_
+_Come saddle my Horse and call up my Man,_
+  _Come open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _And Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+Altho' Ise gotten her Maiden-head,
+  Geud feth Ise given her mine in lieu;
+For when at her Daddy's Ise gang to Bed,
+  Ise mow'd her without any more to do?
+Ise cuddle her close, and gave her a Kiss,
+Pray tell now where is the harm of this,
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _And Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+All _Scotland_ ne'er afforded a Lass,
+  So bonny and blith as _Jenny_ my dear;
+Ise gave her a Gown of Green on the Grass,
+  But now Ise no longer must tarry here:
+Then saddle my Nag that's bonny and gay,
+For now it is time to gang hence away,
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _She's ken me no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+In Liberty still I reckon to Reign,
+  For why I have done no honest Man wrong;
+The Parson may take his Daughter again,
+  For she'll be a Mammy before it is long:
+And have a young Lad or Lass of my breed,
+Ise think I have done her a generous deed;
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _For Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+Since _Jenny_ the Fair was willing and kind,
+  And came to my Arms with a ready good will;
+A token of love Ise left her behind,
+  Thus I have requited her kindness still:
+Tho' _Jenny_ the Fair I often had mow'd,
+Another may reap the harvest I sow'd,
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _She's ken me no more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+Her Daddy would have me to make her my Bride,
+  But have and to hold I ne'er could endure;
+From bonny _Dundee_ this Day I will ride,
+  It being a place not safe and secure:
+Then _Jenny_ farewel my Joy and my dear,
+With Sword in my Hand the passage I'se clear;
+  _Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
+  _For Ise gang no more to Bonny_ Dundee.
+
+My Father he is a muckle good Leard,
+  My Mother a Lady bonny and gay;
+Then while I have strength to handle a Sweard,
+  The Parson's request Ise never obey:
+Then _Sawny_ my Man be thou of my Mind,
+In bonny _Dundee_ we'se ne'er be confin'd,
+  _The Gates we will force to set ourselves free,_
+  _And never come more to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+The _Sawny_ reply'd Ise never refuse,
+  To fight for a Leard so valiant and bold;
+While I have a drop of Blood for to lose,
+  E'er any fickle Loon shall keep us in hold:
+This Sweard in my Hand I'll valiantly weild,
+And fight by your side to kill or be kill'd,
+  _For forcing the Gates and set ourselves free,_
+  _And so bid adieu to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+With Sweard ready drawn they rid to the Gate,
+  Where being denied an Entrance thro'
+The Master and Man they fought at that rate,
+  That some ran away, and others they slew:
+Thus _Jockey_ the Leard and _Sawny_ the Man,
+They valiantly fought as Highlanders can,
+  _In spight of the Loons they set themselves free,_
+  _And so bid adieu to bonny_ Dundee.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Sung by Mr._ Dogget.
+
+
+[Music:
+
+Let's sing of Stage-Coaches,
+and fear no Reproaches;
+      for riding in one,
+but daily be jogging,
+  while whistling, and flogging,
+  while whistling and flogging,
+      the Coachman drives on;
+        with a hey geeup, geeup hey ho,
+        with a hey gee Dobin hey ho, hey,
+        geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho,
+        geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho,
+        with a hey, gee Dobin hey ho.]
+
+In Coaches thus strowling,
+Who wou'd not be rowling;
+      With Nymphs on each side,
+Still Pratling and Playing;
+  Our Knees interlaying,
+      We merrily ride.
+        _With a hey_, &c.
+
+Here chance kindly mixes,
+All sorts and all Sexes,
+      More Females than Men,
+We squeese 'em, we ease 'em,
+  The jolting does please 'em,
+      Drive jollily then,
+        _With a hey_, &c.
+
+The harder you're driving,
+The more 'tis reviving,
+      Nor fear we to tell,
+For if the Coach tumble,
+  We'll have a rare Jumble,
+      And then up tails all,
+        _With a hey_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_The Crafty Cracks of_ East-Smith-Field, _who pick't up a Master
+Colour upon_ Tower-Hill, _whom they Plundred of a Purse of_ Silver,
+_with above Threescore_ Guineas.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+You Master Colours pray draw near,
+  And listen to my Report;
+My Grief is great, for lo of late,
+  Two Ladies I chanc'd to Court:
+Who did meet me on _Tower-Hill_,
+  Their Beauties I did behold:
+_Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,_
+  _And plunder'd me of my Gold._
+
+I'll tell you how it came to pass,
+  This sorrowful Story is thus:
+Of Guineas bright a glorious Sight,
+  I had in a Cat-skin Purse:
+The Value of near Fourscore Pounds,
+  As good as e'er I had told,
+_Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,_
+  _And plunder'd me of my Gold._
+
+I saw two poor distressed Men,
+  Who lay upon _Tower-Hill_,
+To whom in brief I gave Relief,
+  According to my good Will:
+Two wanton Misses drawing near,
+  My Guineas they did behold;
+They laid a Plot by which they Got,
+  My Silver and yellow Gold.
+
+They both address'd themselves to me,
+  And thus they was pleas'd to say;
+Kind Sir, indeed, we stand in need,
+  Altho' we are fine and gay:
+Of some Relief which you may give,
+  I thought they were something bold;
+The Plot was laid, I was betray'd,
+  And plunder'd of all my Gold.
+
+Alas 'tis pity, then I cry'd,
+  Such Ladies of good Repute,
+Should want Relief, therefore in brief,
+  I gave 'em a kind Salute:
+Thought I of them I'll have my Will,
+  Altho' I am something old;
+They were I see too wise for me,
+  They plunder'd me of my Gold.
+
+Then to _East-Smithfield_ was I led,
+  And there I was entertain'd:
+With Kisses fine and Brandy Wine,
+  In Merriment we remain'd:
+Methought it was the happiest Day,
+  That ever I did behold;
+Sweet Meat alass! had sower Sauce,
+  They plunder'd me of my Gold.
+
+Time after Time to pay their Shot,
+  My Guineas I would lug out;
+Those Misses they wou'd make me stay,
+  And rally the other bout:
+I took my Fill of Pleasures then
+  Altho' I was something old;
+Those Joys are past, they would not last,
+  I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.
+
+As I was at the wanton Game,
+  My Pocket they fairly pick'd;
+And all my Wealth they took by stealth,
+  Thus was a poor Colour trick'd:
+Let me therefore a Warning be,
+  To Merchants both young and old;
+For now of late hard was my Fate,
+  I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.
+
+They got three Pounds in Silver bright,
+  And Guineas above Threescore,
+Such sharping Cracks breaks Merchants Backs,
+  I'll never come near them more:
+Sure now I have enough of them,
+  My Sorrow cannot be told;
+That crafty Crew makes me look Blew,
+  I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.
+
+
+
+
+_The Dance of the_ USURER _and the_ Devil.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Last _Christmas_ 'twas my chance,
+  To be in _Paris_ City;
+Where I did see a Dance,
+  In my conceit was very pretty--By men of France.
+
+First came the Lord of _Pool_,
+  And he begun his Measure;
+The next came in a Fool,
+  And danc'd with him for pleasure--With his Tool.
+
+The next a Knight came in,
+  Who look'd as he would swagger;
+And after follow'd him
+  A merry needy Beggar--Dancing in.
+
+The next a Gentleman,
+  On him a Servant tending,
+And there the Dance began,
+  With nimble Bodies bending--Like two Friends.
+
+Then in a Lawyer came,
+  With him a Knave came leaping;
+And as they Danc'd in Frame,
+  So Hand in Hand went skipping--To the Term.
+
+The next a Citizen,
+  And he a Cuckold leading;
+So round about the Room,
+  Their Masque they fell a Treading--And fain they would.
+
+The next an Usurer,
+  Old fat Guts he came grunting;
+The Devil left all care,
+  For joy he fell a Jumping--To see him there.
+
+And ending then their Masque,
+  The Fool his Lord he carries
+Upon his Back in hast,
+  No longer there he tarries--But left the place.
+
+The Beggar took the Knight,
+  Who took it in Derision;
+The Searjeant took in Spite,
+  The Gentleman to Prison--For all his might.
+
+The Cuckold, silly Man,
+  Altho' he was abhorred:
+He took the Citizen,
+  And led him by the Forehead--And out he ran.
+
+The Devil lik'd it well,
+  His lot it was to carry;
+The Usurer to Hell,
+  And there with him to tarry.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ SUBURBS _is a fine place: To the_ Tune _of_ LONDON _is a fine
+Town._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+The Suburbs is a fine Place belonging to the City,
+It has no Government at all, alack the more the Pity;
+A Wife, a silly Animal, esteemed in that same Place,
+For there a Civil Woman's now asham'd to shew her Face:
+The Misses there have each Man's Time, his Money, nay, his Heart,
+Then all in all, both great and small, and all in ev'ry Part.
+
+Which Part it is a thorough-fair so open and so large,
+One well might sail through ev'ry Tail even in a western Barge;
+These Cracks that Coach it now, when first they came to Town,
+Did turn up Tail for a Pot of Ale in Linsey Wolsey Gown.
+
+The Bullies first debauch'd 'em, in Baudy _Covent-Garden_,
+That filthy place, where ne'er a Wench was ever worth a Farthing;
+And when their Maiden-heads are sold to sneaking Lords,
+Which Lords are Clapt at least nine-fold for taking of their Words.
+
+And then my Lord, that many tries, she looks so Innocent,
+Believing he Infected her, he makes a Settlement;
+These are your Cracks, who skill'd in all kind of Debauches,
+Do daily piss, spue and whore in their own glass Coaches.
+
+Now Miss turn Night-walker, till Lord-Mayor's Men she meets,
+O'er Night she's Drunk, next Day she's finely flogged thro' _London_
+  streets;
+After their Rooms of State are chang'd to Bulks or Coblers Stalls,
+'Till Poverty and Pox agree they dying in Hospitals.
+
+This Suburbs gallant Fop that takes delight in Roaring,
+He spends his time in Huffing, Swearing, Drinking, and in Whoring;
+And if an honest Man and his Wife meet them in the Dark,
+Makes nothing to run the Husband through to get the name of Spark.
+
+But when the Constable appears, the Gallant, let me tell ye,
+His Heart denies his Breeches, and sinks into his Belly;
+These are the silly Rogues that think it fine and witty,
+To laugh and joak at Aldermen, the Rulers of the City.
+
+They'd kiss our Wives, but hold, for all their plotting Pates,
+While they would get us Children, we are getting their Estates;
+And still in vain they Court pretending in their Cares,
+That their Estates may thus descend unto the Lawful Heirs.
+
+Their Play-houses I hate, are Shops to set off Wenches,
+Where Fop and Miss, like Dog and Bitch, do couple under Benches;
+That I might advise the chiefest Play-house monger,
+I have a Sister of my own both Handsomer and Younger.
+
+She lives not far off in the Parish of St. _Clements_,
+She never liv'd in Cellar nor sold Oranges and Lemons:
+Then why should Play-house Trulls with Paint and such Temptations,
+Be an Eye sore to me & more to the best part o'th' Nation.
+
+Now you that all this while have listened to my Dity,
+With streightened Hands pray drink a Health unto this noble City:
+And let us pray to _Jove_, these Suburb folks to mend,
+And having now no more to say, I think it fit to end.
+
+
+
+
+_The Old Woman's_ WISH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As I went by an Hospital,
+  I heard an Old Woman cry,
+Kind Sir, quoth she, be kind to me,
+  Once more before I Die,
+And grant to me those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above reward your Love,
+  To an old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+I find an itching in my Blood,
+  Altho' it be something Cold,
+Therefore Good Man do what you can,
+  To comfort me now I'm Old.
+And Grant to me those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+Altho' I cannot see the Day,
+  Nor never a glance of light;
+Kind Sir, I swear and do declare,
+  I honour the Joys of Night:
+Then grant to me those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above Reward you Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+When I was in my Blooming Youth,
+  My vigorous Love was Hot;
+Now in my Age I dare Engage,
+  A fancy I still have got:
+Then give to me those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+You shall miss of a Reward,
+  If Readily you comply;
+Then do not Blush but touch my flesh.
+  This minute before I die:
+O let me tast those Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+I Forty Shillings would freely give,
+  'Tis all the Mony I have;
+Which I full long have begged for,
+  To carry me to my Grave:
+This I would give to have the Bliss,
+  That belongs to Woman-kind,
+And the Fates above reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+I had a Husband in my Youth,
+  As very well 'tis known,
+The truth to tell he pleased me well,
+  But now I am left alone;
+And long to tast the good Old Game,
+  That belongs to Woman-kind:
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+If Forty Shillings will not do,
+  My Petticoat and my Gown;
+Nay Smock also shall freely go,
+  To make up the other Crown:
+Then Sir, pray Grant that kind Request,
+  That belongs to Woman-kind;
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+Tho' I am Fourscore Years of Age,
+  I love with a Right good Will;
+And what in truth I want in Youth,
+  I have it in perfect Skill:
+Then grant to me that Charming Bliss,
+  That belongs to Woman-kind;
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+Now if you do not pleasure me,
+  And give me the thing I crave;
+I do protest I shall not rest,
+  When I am laid in my Grave:
+Therefore kind Sir, grant me the Joys,
+  That belong to Woman-kind;
+And the Fates above Reward your Love,
+  To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.
+
+
+
+
+_The Mad-Man's_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There can be no Glad-man compar'd to the Mad-man,
+His Mind is still void of Care;
+His Fits and his Fancies, are above all Mischances,
+  And Mirth is his ordinary Fare.
+    _Then be thou Mad, Mad, Mad let's be,_
+    _Nor shall the foul Fiend be Madder than we._
+
+The Wise and the Witty, in Court and in City,
+  Are subject to sorrow and Pain;
+While he that is Mad, knows not why to be Sad,
+  Nor has any cause to complain:
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+We laugh at you Wise Men, that thus do despise Men,
+  Whose Senses you think to Decline;
+Mark well and you'll see, what you count but Frenzy,
+  Is indeed but Raptures Divine.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+Let the Grave and the Wise, pluck out their Eyes,
+  To set forth a Book worth a Groat;
+We Mad-men are quicker, grow Learn'd with good Liquor,
+  And Chirp a Merry note.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+Hast thou lost thy Estate Man, why, care not for that Man,
+  What Wealth may'st not fancy thy own;
+More than Queen _Dido_, or her Ass-Ear'd _Midas_,
+  That great Philosopher's stone.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+_Pompey_ was a Mad-man, and so long a Glad-man;
+  But at length he was forc'd to flee;
+For _Caesar_ from _Gallia_ beat him in _Pharsalia_,
+  'Cause a madder Fellow then he.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+'Twas this Extasie brave, that the great Courage gave,
+  If your Eyes were but ope'd and would see;
+To great _Alexander_, that mighty Commander,
+  As Mad a Fellow as could be.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+Then around goes a Health to the Lady o'th' House,
+  If any Man here does forsake it;
+For a Fool let him go, we know better Manners,
+  And so we mean to take it.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+There's no Night Mirth's going, nor any Lad wooing,
+  But Mad-men are privy unto it;
+For the Stars so peep, into every such thing,
+  And wink upon us as you do it.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+When the Frost, Ice and Snow, do benumb things below,
+  We Chirp as merry as Larks;
+Our Sack and our Madness, consumes cold and sadness,
+  And we are the Jovial Sparks.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+Has thy Mistress frown'd on thee, or thy Rival out-gone thee?
+  Let Sober and Wise Fellows pine;
+Whilst bright _Miralind_ and goodly _Dulcind_,
+  And the rest of the Fairies are thine.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+A Mad-man needs baulk no manner of talk,
+  His Tongues never guilty with Treason;
+But a Wise Knave would suffer, if the same he should utter,
+  For a wise Man's Guilt is his Reason.
+    _Then be thou Mad_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Shepherd kept Sheep on a Hill so high, _fa, la, la_, &c.
+And there came a pretty Maid passing by, _fa, la_, &c.
+Shepherd, quoth she, dost thou want e'er a Wife,
+No by my troth I'm not weary of my Life, _fa, la, la_, &c.
+
+Shepherd for thee I care not a Fly, _fa, la, la_,
+For thou'st not the Face with a fair Maid to lie, _fa, la_,
+How now my Damsel, say'st thou me so,
+Thou shalt tast of my bottle before thou dost go, _fa, la_.
+
+Then he took her and laid her upon the Ground, _fa, la_,
+And made her believe that the World went round, _fa, la_,
+Look yonder my Shepherd, look yonder I spy,
+There are fine pretty Babies that dance in the Sky, _fa, la_.
+
+And now they are vanisht, and now they appear, _fa, la_,
+Sure they will tell Stories of what we do here, _fa, la, la_,
+Lie still my dear _Chloris_, enjoy thy Conceit,
+For the Babes are too young and too little to prate, _fa, la, la_.
+
+See how the Heavens fly swifter than Day, _fa, la, la_,
+Rise quickly, or they will all run away, _fa, la, la_,
+Rise quickly my Shepherd, quickly I tell ye,
+For the Sun, Moon and Stars are got all in my Belly, _fa, la_.
+
+O dear, where am I? pray shew me the way, _fa, la, la_,
+Unto my Father's House hard by, _fa, la, la_,
+If he chance to Chide me for staying so long,
+I'll tell him the fumes of your Bottle were strong, _fa, la, la_.
+
+And now thou hast brought my Body to shame, _fa, la_,
+I prithee now tell me what is thy Name, _fa, la, la_,
+Why _Robin_ in the Rushes my Name is, quoth he,
+But I think I told her quite contrary, _fa, la, la_.
+
+Then for _Robin_ in the Rushes, she did enquire, _fa, la, la_,
+But he hung down his Head, and he would not come nigh her, _fa, la, la_,
+He wink'd with one Eye, as if he had been Blind,
+And he drew one Leg after a great way behind, _fa, la, la_.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As I was a walking under a Grove,
+  Within my self, as I suppos'd;
+My Mind did oftentimes remove,
+  And by no means could be disclosed:
+At length by chance a Friend I met,
+  Which caused me long time to tarry;
+And thus of me she did intreat,
+  To tell her when I meant to Marry.
+
+Sweet-heart, quoth I, if you would know,
+  Then hear the Words, and I'll reveal it;
+Since in your Mind you bear it so,
+  And in your Heart you will conceal it:
+She promis'd me she'd make no Words,
+  But of such things she would be wary;
+And thus in brief I did begin,
+  To tell her when I meant to Marry.
+
+When _Shrove-tide_ falls in _Easter_ week,
+  And _Christmas_ in the midst of _July_;
+When Lawyers for no Fees will Plead,
+  And Taylors they prove Just and Truly:
+When all Deceits are quite put down,
+  And Truth by all Men is preferred;
+And _Indigo_ dies Red and Brown,
+  O then my Love and I'll be Married.
+
+When Men and Beasts in the Ocean flow,
+  And Fishes in green Fields are feeding;
+When Muscle-shells in the Streets grow,
+  And Swans upon dry Rocks be breeding:
+When Cockle-shells are Diamond Rings,
+  And Glass to Pearl may be compared;
+Gold is made of a Grey-goose Wings,
+  Oh then my Love and I'll be Married.
+
+When hostesses do reckon true,
+  And _Dutchmen_ leave off drinking Brandy;
+When Cats do bark, and Dogs do Mew,
+  And Brimstone is took for Sugar-candy:
+Or when that _Whitsontide_ do fall,
+  Within the Month of _January_;
+And a Cobler works without an Awl,
+  O then my, _&c._
+
+When Women know not how to Scold,
+And Maids on Sweet-hearts ne'er are thinking;
+When Men in the Fire complain of Cold,
+  And Ships on _Salisbury_ Plain fear sinking:
+Or when Horse-Coursers turn honest Men,
+  And _London_ into _York_ is carried;
+And out of One you can take Ten,
+ Oh then, _&c._
+
+When Candlesticks do serve for Bells,
+  And Frying-pans they do use for Ladles;
+When in the Sea they dig for Wells,
+  And Porridge-pots they use for Cradles:
+When Maids forget to go a _Maying_,
+  And a Man on his Back an Ox can carry;
+Or when the Mice with the Cat be playing,
+  Oh then, _&c._
+
+Good Sir, since you have told me when,
+  That you're resolv'd for to Marry;
+I wish with all my Heart till then,
+  That for a Wife you still may tarry:
+But if all young Men were of your mind,
+  And Maids no better were preferred;
+I think it were when the D----l were blind,
+  That we and our Lovers should be Married.
+
+
+
+
+Gilderoys _last Farewel. To a New Tune._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Gilderoy_ was a bonny Boy,
+  Had Roses tull his shun,
+His Stockings were made of the finest Silk,
+  His Garters hanging down:
+It was a comely sight to see,
+  He was so trim a Boy;
+He was my Joy and Heart's Delight,
+  _My Handsom_ Gilderoy.
+
+Oh sike a charming Eye he had,
+  A Breath as sweet as a Rose,
+He never wore a Hiland plad,
+  But costly silken Cloaths:
+He gain'd the Love of Ladies gay,
+  There's none to him was Coy;
+Ah, wa's me, Ise mourn this Day,
+  _For my Dear_ Gilderoy.
+
+My _Gilderoy_ and I was born,
+  Both in one Town together;
+Not past Seven years of Age,
+  Since one did Love each other:
+Our Daddies and our Mammies both,
+  Were cloath'd with mickle Joy,
+To think upon the Bridal Day,
+  _Betwixt I and my_ Gilderoy.
+
+For _Gilderoy_, that Love of mine,
+  Geud faith Ise freely bought:
+A Wedding-sark of Holland fine,
+  With Silk in Flowers wrought:
+And he gave me a Wedding Ring,
+  Which I receiv'd with Joy;
+No Lads or Lasses e'er could Sing,
+  _Like my sweet_ Gilderoy.
+
+In mickle Joy we spent our time,
+  Till we was both Fifteen;
+Then gently he did lay me down,
+  Amongst the leaves so green:
+When he had done what he could do,
+  He rose and he gang'd his way;
+But ever since I lov'd the Man,
+  _My Handsome_ Gilderoy.
+
+While we did both together play,
+  He kiss'd me o'er and o'er;
+Geud faith it was as blith a Day,
+  As e'er I saw before:
+He fill'd my Heart in every Vein,
+  With Love and mickle Joy;
+Who was my Love and Hearts delight,
+  _Mine own sweet_ Gilderoy.
+
+Oh never, never shall I see,
+  The cause of past Delight;
+Or sike a lovely Lad as he,
+  Transport my Ravish'd sight:
+The Law forbids what Love enjoyns,
+  And does prevent our Joy;
+Though just and fair were the Designs,
+  _Of me and_ Gilderoy.
+
+'Cause _Gilderoy_ had done amiss,
+  Must he be punish'd then;
+What kind of Cruelty is this
+  To hang such Handsom Men?
+The Flower of the _Scotish_ land,
+  A sweet and lovely Boy;
+He likewise had a Lady's Hand,
+  _My Handsom_ Gilderoy.
+
+At _Leith_ they took my _Gilderoy_,
+  And there God wot they bang'd him:
+Carry'd him to fair _Edenburgh_,
+  And there God wot they hang'd him:
+They hang'd him up above the rest,
+  He was so trim a Boy;
+My only Love and Heart's Delight,
+  _My Handsom_ Gilderoy.
+
+Thus having yielded up his Breath,
+  In _Cypress_ he was laid;
+Then for my dearest, after Death,
+  A Funeral I made:
+Over his Grave a Marble-stone,
+  I fixed for my Joy;
+Now I am left to weep alone,
+  _For my dear_ Gilderoy.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ SCOTCH _Wedding_
+
+_Between_ JOCKEY _and_ JENNY.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Then _Jockey_ wou'd a Wooing away,
+  On our Feast-day when he was foo;
+Then _Jenny_ put on her best Array,
+  When she thought _Jockey_ would come to Woo.
+
+If I thought _Jockey_ were come to Town,
+  It wad be for the leve of me;
+Then wad I put on beth Hat and Goown,
+  Because I'd seem worstsome in his Eye.
+
+Then _Jenny_ prick'd up a brant breeght broow,
+  She was as breeght as onny clock;
+As _Moggy_ always used to do,
+  For fear her Sweet-heart shou'd her mock.
+
+Then _Jenny_ shoo tripped up the Stairs,
+  And secretly to shift her Smock;
+But leard how loud her mother swears,
+  O hast away _Jenny_, and come to _Jock_.
+
+Then _Jenny_ came tripping down the Stairs,
+  Oh Leard so nimbly tripped she;
+But oh how _Jockey_ began to stare,
+  When he beheld hur fair Beauty!
+
+Then _Jenny_ made a Curtshy low,
+  Until the Stairs did touch her Dock;
+But Leard how loud her Mother did lough,
+  When shoo _Jenny_ was come to _Jock_.
+
+Then _Jockey_ tuke _Jenny_ by the Nease,
+  Saying my dear Lovey canst thou loof me?
+My Father is Dead and has left me Land,
+  Some fair ould Houses twa or three.
+
+Thou shalt be the Lady o'er them aw,
+  I doot, quod _Jenny_ you do me mock;
+Ad ta my saw, quoth _Jockey_, then,
+  I come to woo thee _Jenny_, quoth _Jock_.
+
+
+_This to be said after the_ SONG.
+
+Sea then they gang'd to the Kirk to be wad; noow they den't use to wad
+in _Scotchland_ as they wad in _England_, for they gang to the Kirk,
+and they take the Donkin by the Rocket, and say, good morn Sir Donkin,
+says Sir Donkin, ah _Jockey_ sen ater me, wit ta ha _Jenny_ to thy
+wadded Wife? ay by her Lady quoth _Jockey_ and thanka twa, we aw my
+Heart; ah _Jenny_ sen ater me, wit ta ha _Jockey_ to thy wadded Loon,
+to have and to hold for aver and aver, forsaking aw other Loons,
+lubberloons, black Lips, blue Nases, an aw Swiggbell'd caves? ah, an
+these twa be'nt as weel wadded as e'er I wadded twa in _Scotchland_,
+the Deel and St. _Andrew_ part ye.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG _made to the_ Irish JIGG, _and Sung to the King at_
+Whitehall.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Lately as thorough the fair _Edinborough_,
+  To view the fair Meadows as I was ganging;
+_Jockey_ and _Moggy_ were walking and talking,
+  Of Love and Religion, thus closely Haranguing;
+Never says _Moggy_, come near me false _Jockey_,
+  For thou art a _Whig_, and I mean to abhor thee;
+Ize be no Bride, nor will lig by thy side,
+  For no sneaking Rebel shall lift a Leg o'er me.
+
+_Jockey._ Fairest and Dearest,
+          And to my Heart nearest,
+  To live with thy Frowns I no longer am able;
+          I am so loving,
+          And thou art so moving,
+  Each Hair of thy Head ties me fast as a Cable:
+          Thou hast that in thee,
+          Ise sure to win me,
+  To _Jew_, _Turk_ or _Atheist_, so much I adore thee;
+          Nothing I'd shun,
+          That is under the Sun,
+  So I have the pleasure to lift a Leg o'er thee.
+
+_Moggy._ Plotters and Traytors,
+          And Associators,
+  In every degree thou shalt swear to oppose 'em;
+          Swimmers and Trimmers,
+          The Nations Redeemers,
+  And for thy Reward thou shalt sleep in my Bosom;
+          I had a Dad,
+          Was a Royal brave Lad,
+  And as true as the Sun to his Monarch before me;
+          _Moggy_ he cry'd,
+          The same hour that he Dy'd,
+  Let no sneaking Rebel e'er lift a Leg o'er thee.
+
+_Jockey._ Adieu then ye Crew then,
+          Of Protestant Blue Men,
+  No Faction his _Moggy_ from _Jockey_ shall sever;
+          Thou shalt at Court,
+          My Conversion Report,
+  I am not the first Whig by his Wife brought in favour;
+          Ise never deal,
+          For the dull Common Weal,
+  To fight for true Monarchy shall be my Glory;
+          Lull'd with thy Charms,
+          Then I die in your Arms,
+  When I have the Pleasure to lift a Leg o'er thee.
+
+
+
+
+_The Fair Lass of_ ISLINGTON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There was a Lass of _Islington_,
+  As I have heard many tell;
+And she would to Fair _London_ go,
+  Fine Apples and Pears to sell:
+And as along the Streets she flung,
+  With her basket on her Arm:
+Her Pears to sell, you may know it right well,
+  This fair Maid meant no harm.
+
+But as she tript along the Street,
+  Her pleasant Fruit to sell;
+A Vintner did with her meet,
+  Who lik'd this Maid full well:
+Quoth he, fair Maid, what have you there?
+  In Basket decked brave;
+Fine Pears, quoth she, and if it please ye
+  A taste Sir you shall have.
+
+The Vintner he took a Taste,
+  And lik'd it well, for why;
+This Maid he thought of all the rest,
+  Most pleasing to his Eye:
+Quoth he, fair Maid I have a Suit,
+  That you to me must grant;
+Which if I find you be so kind,
+  Nothing that you shall want.
+
+Thy Beauty doth so please my Eye,
+  And dazles so my sight;
+That now of all my Liberty,
+  I am deprived quite:
+Then prithee now consent to me,
+  And do not put me by;
+It is but one small courtesie,
+  All Night with you to lie.
+
+Sir, if you lie with me one Night,
+  As you propound to me;
+I do expect that you should prove,
+  Both courteous, kind and free:
+And for to tell you all in short,
+  It will cost you Five Pound,
+A Match, a Match, the Vintner said,
+  And so let this go round.
+
+When he had lain with her all Night,
+  Her Money she did crave,
+O stay, quoth he, the other Night,
+  And thy Money thou shalt have:
+I cannot stay, nor I will not stay,
+  I needs must now be gone,
+Why then thou may'st thy Money go look,
+  For Money I'll pay thee none.
+
+This Maid she made no more ado,
+  But to a Justice went;
+And unto him she made her moan,
+  Who did her Case lament:
+She said she had a Cellar Let out,
+  To a Vintner in the Town;
+And how that he did then agree
+  Five Pound to pay her down.
+
+But now, quoth she, the Case is thus,
+  No Rent that he will pay;
+Therefore your Worship I beseech,
+  To send for him this Day:
+Then strait the Justice for him sent,
+  And asked the Reason why;
+That he would pay this Maid no Rent?
+  To which he did Reply,
+
+Although I hired a Cellar of her,
+  And the Possession was mine?
+I ne'er put any thing into it,
+  But one poor Pipe of Wine:
+Therefore my Bargain it was hard,
+  As you may plainly see;
+I from my Freedom was Debarr'd,
+  Then good Sir favour me.
+
+This Fair Maid being ripe of Wit,
+  She strait Reply'd again;
+There were two Butts more at the Door,
+  Why did you not roul them in?
+You had your Freedom and your Will,
+  As is to you well known;
+Therefore I do desire still,
+  For to receive my own.
+
+The Justice hearing of their Case,
+  Did then give Order strait;
+That he the Money should pay down,
+  She should no longer wait:
+Withal he told the Vintner plain
+  If he a Tennant be;
+He must expect to pay the same,
+  For he could not sit Rent-free.
+
+But when the Money she had got,
+  She put it in her Purse:
+And clapt her Hand on the Cellar Door,
+  And said it was never the worse:
+Which caused the People all to Laugh,
+  To see this Vintner Fine:
+Out-witted by a Country Girl,
+  About his Pipe of Wine.
+
+
+
+
+_The most Famous_ BALLAD
+
+_Of King_ HENRY _the 5th; his Victory over the_ French _at_ Agencourt.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Councel grave our King did hold,
+  With many a Lord and Knight:
+That he might truly understand,
+  That _France_ did hold his Right.
+
+Unto the King of _France_ therefore,
+  Embassadors he sent;
+That he might truly understand,
+  His Mind and whole Intent.
+
+Desiring him in friendly sort,
+  His lawful Right to yield;
+Or else he swore by dint of Sword,
+  To win it in the Field.
+
+The King of _France_ with all his Lords,
+  Did hear this Message plain;
+And to our brave Embassador,
+  Did answer with Disdain.
+
+And said our King was yet too young,
+  And of but tender Age;
+Therefore they pass not for his Threats,
+  Nor fear not his Courage.
+
+His Knowledge yet in Feats of Arms,
+  As yet is very small;
+His tender Joints more fitter are,
+  To toss a Tennis-ball.
+
+A Tun of Tennis-balls therefore,
+  In Pride and great Disdain;
+He sent unto this Royal King,
+  To recompence his Pain.
+
+Which Answer when our King did hear,
+  He waxed wroth in Heart;
+And swore he would provide such Balls,
+  Should make all _France_ to smart.
+
+An Army then our King did hold,
+  Which was both good and strong;
+And from _Southampton_ is our King,
+  With all his Navy gone.
+
+In _France_ he landed safe and sound,
+  Both he and all his Train;
+And to the Town of _Husle_ then
+  He marched up amain.
+
+Which when he had besieg'd the Town,
+  Against the fenced Walls;
+To batter down the stately Towers,
+  He sent his _English_ Balls.
+
+When this was done our King did march,
+  Then up and down the Land;
+And not a _Frenchman_ for his Life,
+  Durst once his Force withstand.
+
+Until he came to _Agencourt_,
+  Whereas it was his chance;
+To find the King in readiness,
+  With all the Power of _France_.
+
+A mighty Host he had prepar'd,
+  Of Armed Soldiers then;
+Which were no less by just Account,
+  Than Forty Thousand Men.
+
+Which sight did much amaze our King,
+  For he and all his Host;
+Not passing Fifteen Thousand had,
+  Accounted with the most.
+
+The King of _France_ who well did know,
+  The Number of our Men;
+In vaunting Pride and great Disdain,
+  Did send an Herald then:
+
+To understand what he would give,
+  For Ransom of his Life,
+When they in Field had taken him,
+  Amongst the bloody strife.
+
+And when our King with cheerful Heart,
+  This answer then did make;
+Before that it does come to pass,
+  Some of your Hearts will ake.
+
+And to your proud presumptuous King,
+  Declare this thing, quoth he;
+My own Heart's-blood will pay the Price,
+  Nought else he gets of me.
+
+Then spake the noble Duke of _York_,
+  O noble King, quoth he,
+The Leading of this Battle brave,
+  It doth belong to me.
+
+God-a-mercy Cousin _York_, he said,
+  I grant thee thy Request;
+Then lead thou on couragiously,
+  And I will lead the rest.
+
+Then came the bragging _Frenchmen_ down,
+  With cruel Force and Might;
+With whom our Noble King began,
+  A fierce and dreadful Fight.
+
+The Archers they discharg'd their Shafts,
+  As thick as Hail from Skie;
+And many a _Frenchman_ in the Field,
+  That happy Day did die.
+
+Their Horses tumbled on the Stakes,
+  And so their Lives they lost;
+And many a _Frenchman_ there was ta'en,
+  As Prisoners to their cost.
+
+Ten Thousand Men that Day was slain,
+  As Enemies in the Field:
+And eke as many Prisoners,
+  Were forc'd that Day to yield.
+
+Thus had our King a happy Day,
+  And Victory over _France_;
+And brought them quickly under foot
+  That late in Pride did prance.
+
+God save our King, and bless this Land,
+  And grant to him likewise;
+The upper-hand and Victory,
+  Of all his Enemies.
+
+
+
+
+_The Lady_ ISABELLA'S _Tragedy: Or, the Step-Mother's Cruelty._ _To
+the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+There was a Lord of worthy Fame,
+  And a Hunting he would ride,
+Attended by a noble Train,
+  Of Gentry on each side.
+
+And whilst he did in Chace remain,
+  To see both Sport and Play;
+His Lady went as she did feign,
+  Unto the Church to pray.
+
+This Lord he had a Daughter Fair,
+  Whose Beauty shin'd so bright;
+She was belov'd both far and near,
+  Of many a Lord and Knight.
+
+Fair _Isabella_ was she call'd,
+  A Creature Fair was she;
+She was her Father's only Joy,
+  As you shall after see.
+
+But yet her Cruel Step-Mother,
+  Did Envy her so much;
+That Day by Day she sought her Life,
+  Her Malice it was such.
+
+She bargain'd with the Master-Cook,
+  To take her Life away;
+And taking of her Daughter's Book,
+  She thus to her did say.
+
+Go home, sweet Daughter, I thee pray.
+  Go hasten presently;
+And tell unto the Master-Cook,
+  These Words which I tell thee.
+
+And bid him dress to Dinner straight,
+  That fair and milk-white Doe;
+That in the Park doth shine so bright,
+  There's none so fair to show.
+
+This Lady fearing of no harm,
+  Obey'd her Mother's Will;
+And presently she hasted home,
+  Her Mind for to fulfil.
+
+She straight into the Kitchin went,
+  Her Message for to tell,
+And there the Master-Cook she spy'd,
+  Who did with Malice swell.
+
+Now Master-Cook it must be so,
+  Do that which I thee tell;
+You needs must dress the milk-white Doe,
+  Which you do know full well.
+
+Then straight his cruel bloody Hands,
+  He on the Lady laid;
+Who quivering and shaking stands,
+  While thus to her he said:
+
+Thou art the Doe that I must dress,
+  See here, behold my Knife;
+For it is Pointed presently,
+  To rid thee of thy Life.
+
+O then cry'd out the Scullion Boy,
+  As loud as loud might be;
+O save her Life, good Master-Cook,
+  And make your Pies of me?
+
+For pity sake do not destroy
+  My Lady with your Knife;
+You know she is her Father's Joy,
+  For Christ's sake save her Life.
+
+I will not save her Life he said,
+  Nor make my Pies of thee;
+Yet if thou dost this Deed betray,
+  Thy Butcher I will be;
+
+Now when this Lord he did come home,
+  For to sit down to Meat;
+He called for his Daughter dear,
+  To come and carve his Meat.
+
+Now sit you down, his Lady said,
+  O sit you down to Meat;
+Into some Nunnery she's gone,
+  Your Daughter dear forget.
+
+Then solemnly he made a Vow,
+  Before the Company;
+That he would neither eat nor drink,
+  Until he did her see.
+
+O then bespoke the Scullion Boy,
+  With a loud Voice so high;
+If that you will your Daughter see
+  My Lord cut up the Pye.
+
+Wherein her Flesh is minced small,
+  And parched with the Fire;
+All caused by her Step-Mother,
+  Who did her Death desire.
+
+And cursed be the Master-Cook,
+  O cursed may he be!
+I proffer'd him my own Heart's Blood,
+  From Death to set her free.
+
+Then all in Black this Lord did Mourn,
+  And for his Daughter's sake;
+He judged for her Step-Mother,
+  To be burnt at a Stake.
+
+Likewise he judg'd the Master-Cook,
+  In boyling Lead to stand;
+He made the simple Scullion Boy,
+  The Heir to all his Land.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ BALLAD
+
+_In Praise of a certain Commander in the City._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Heroe of no small Renown,
+  But noted for a Man of Mettle;
+Thro' all the Parts of _London_ Town,
+No Gentleman, nor yet a Clown,
+  No grave wise man, nor stupid Beetle.
+
+By many Deeds of Prowess done,
+  He's gain'd a matchless Reputation;
+Perform'd by neither Sword nor Gun,
+But by what means you'll know anon,
+  And how he work'd his Preservation.
+
+Well mounted on a noble Steed,
+  With Sword and Pistol charg'd before him;
+Altho' we must confess indeed,
+Of either Arms there was no need,
+  His Conduct did alone secure him.
+
+With's Wife upon a single Horse,
+  T'wards _Eppin_ both rid out together;
+But what than ill Luck can be worse,
+A High-way-Man of equal Force,
+  Alass, obstructed both their Pleasure.
+
+With Pistol cock'd he made demand,
+  And told them he must have their Money;
+The Major wisely would not stand,
+Nor on his Pistols clap a Hand,
+  He was not such a Fighting Tony.
+
+But spur'd away as swift as Wind,
+  No Elk or Tyger could run faster;
+Was ever Man so stout and kind,
+To leave his frighted Wife behind,
+  Expos'd to such a sad Disaster.
+
+Her Necklace, Cloaths and Diamond Ring,
+  The greedy Robber quickly fell to;
+One Petticoat he let her bring
+Away with Smock, and t'other Thing,
+  To let her noble Heroe smell to.
+
+This Slight bred sad domestick Strife,
+  Altho' the Man's to be commended;
+For what's a loving handsome Wife,
+To a Man's Money or his Life,
+  For all is lost when that is ended.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As the Fryer he went along, and a poring in his Book,
+At last he spy'd a Jolly brown Wench a washing of her Buck,
+
+  Sing, _Stow the Fryer, stow the Fryer_
+  _Some good Man, and let this fair Maid go_.
+
+The Fryer he pull'd out and a Jolly brown T----d
+  as much as he could handle,
+Fair Maid, quoth he, if thou earnest Fire in thy A----
+  come light me this same Candle.
+  Sing, _Stow the Fryer_, &c.
+
+The Maid she sh---- and a Jolly brown T----
+  out of her Jolly brown Hole,
+Good Sir, quoth she, if you will a Candle light
+  come blow me this same Cole.
+  Sing, _Stow the Fryer_, &c.
+
+Part of the Sparks flew into the _North_,
+  and part into the _South_,
+And part of this jolly brown T----
+  flew into the Fryer's Mouth.
+
+  Sing, _Stow the Fryer, stow the Fryer_
+  _Some good Man, and let this fair Maid go_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Lass of_ LYNN'S _sorrowful Lamentation for the Loss of her
+Maiden-Head._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I am a young Lass of _Lynn_,
+  Who often said thank you too;
+My Belly's now almost to my Chin,
+  _I cannot tell what to do_.
+
+My being so free and kind,
+  Does make my Heart to rue;
+The sad Effects of this I find,
+  _And cannot tell what to do_.
+
+My Petticoats which I wore,
+  And likewise my Aprons too;
+Alass, they are all too short before,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+Was ever young Maid so crost,
+  As I who thank'd him too:
+For why, my Maiden-head is lost,
+  _I cannot tell what to do_.
+
+In sorrowful sort I cry'd,
+  And may now for ever rue;
+The Pain lies in my Back and Side,
+  _I cannot tell what to do_.
+
+Alass I was kind and mild,
+  But now the same I rue;
+Having no Father for my Child,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+I took but a Touch in jest,
+  Believe me this is true;
+Yet I have proved, I protest,
+  _And cannot_, &c.
+
+He crav'd my Virginity,
+  And gave me his own in lieu;
+In this I find I was too kind,
+  _And cannot_, &c.
+
+Each Damsel will me degrade,
+  And so will the young Men too;
+I'm neither Widow, Wife, nor Maid,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+A Cradle I must provide,
+  A Chair and Posset too;
+Nay, likewise twenty Things beside,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+When I was a Maiden fair,
+  Such Sorrows I never knew;
+But now my Heart is full of Care,
+  _I cannot_, &c.
+
+Oh what will become of me,
+  My Belly's as big as two;
+'Tis with a Two-legg'd Tympany,
+  _I cannot tell what to do_.
+
+You Lasses that hear my Moan,
+  If you will your Joys renew;
+Besure, while Married, lye alone,
+  _Or else you at length may rue_.
+
+I came of as good a Race,
+  As most is in _Lynn_'s fair Town;
+And cost a great deal bringing up,
+  _But a little Thing laid me down_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Jovial Tinker._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There was a Jovial Tinker,
+Which was a good Ale drinker;
+He never was a Shrinker,
+  Believe me this is true;
+And he came from the wild of _Kent_,
+When all his Money was gone and spent,
+Which made him look like a _Jack-a-Lent_,
+  _And Joan's Ale is new,_
+  _And Joan's Ale is new Boys,_
+  _And Joan's Ale is new._
+
+The Tinker he did settle,
+Most like a Man of Mettle,
+And vow'd to pawn his Kettle,
+  Now mark what did ensue;
+His Neighbours they flock'd in apace,
+To see _Tom Tinker's_ comely Face,
+Where they drank soundly for a space,
+  _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The Cobler and the Broom Man,
+Came next into the Room, Man,
+And said they would drink for boon Man,
+  Let each one take his due;
+But when good Liquor they had found,
+They cast their Caps upon the Ground,
+And so the Tinker he drank round,
+  _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The Rag-Man being weary,
+With the Burden he did carry,
+He swore he would be merry,
+  And spend a Shilling or two;
+And he told his Hostess to her Face,
+The Chimney-corner was his Place,
+And he began to drink apace,
+  _And_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The Pedlar he drew nigher,
+For it was his desire,
+To throw the Rags i'th' Fire,
+  And burn the bundle blue;
+So whilst they drank whole Flashes,
+And threw about the Glasses,
+The Rags were burnt to Ashes,
+  _And_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+
+_The Second_ PART.
+
+And then came in a Hatter,
+To see what was the matter,
+He scorn'd to drink cold Water,
+  Amongst that Jovial Crew;
+And like a Man of Courage stout,
+He took the Quart-Pot by the Snout,
+And never left till all was out,
+  _O_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The Taylor being nimble,
+With Bodkin, Shears and Thimble,
+He did no whit dissemble,
+  I think his name was _True_;
+He said that he was like to choak,
+And he call'd so fast for Lap and Smoak,
+Until he had pawn'd the Vinegar Cloak,
+  _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+Then came a pitiful Porter,
+Which often did resort there,
+Quoth he, I'll shew some Sport here,
+  Amongst the Jovial Crew;
+The Porter he had very bad luck,
+Before that it was ten a Clock,
+The Fool got Drunk, and lost his Frock,
+  _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+The bonny brave Shoe-maker,
+A brave Tobacco taker,
+He scorn'd to be a Quaker,
+  I think his Name was _Hugh_;
+He call'd for Liquor in so fast,
+Till he forgot his Awl and Last,
+And up the Reckoning he did cast,
+  _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+And then came in the Weaver,
+You never saw a braver,
+With a Silk Man and a Glover,
+  _Tom Tinker_ for to view;
+And so to welcom him to Town,
+They every Man spent half a Crown,
+And so the Drink went merrily down,
+  _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+Then came a Drunken _Dutchman_,
+And he would have a touch, Man,
+But he soon took too much, Man,
+  Which made them after rue;
+He drank so long as I suppose,
+'Till greasie Drops fell from his Nose,
+And like a Beast befoul'd his Hose,
+  _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+A _Welchman_ he came next, Sir,
+With Joy and Sorrow Mixt, Sir,
+Who being partly vex'd, Sir,
+  He out his Dagger drew;
+Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth _Taffy_ then,
+A _Welchman_ is a Shentleman,
+Come Hostess fill's the other Cann,
+  _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.
+
+Thus like to Men of Courage stout,
+Couragiously they drank about,
+Till such time all the Ale was out,
+  As I may tell to you;
+And when the Business was done,
+They every man departed home,
+And promis'd _Joan_ again to come,
+  _When she had Brew'd anew_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Soldiers Fortune: Or, the taking_ Mardyke.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When first _Mardyke_ was made a Prey,
+'Twas Courage that carry'd the Fort away,
+Then do not lose your Valours Prize,
+By gazing on your Mistresses Eyes;
+But put off your Petticoat-parley,
+Potting and sotting, and laughing and quaffing Canary,
+Will make a good Soldier miscarry:
+  And never Travel for true Renown:
+Then turn to your Marshal Mistress,
+Fair _Minerva_ the Soldier's Sister is;
+Rallying and sallying, with gashing and slashing of Wounds Sir,
+With turning and burning of Towns, Sir,
+  Is a high step to a great Man's Throne.
+
+Let bold _Bellona's_ Brewer frown,
+And his Tunn shall overflow the Town;
+And give the Cobler Sword and Fate:
+And a Tinker may trapan the State;
+Such Fortunate Foes as these be,
+Turn'd the Crown to a Cross at _Naseby_:
+Father and Mother, Sister and Brother confounded,
+And many a good Family wounded;
+  By a terrible turn of Fate,
+He that can kill a Man, thunder and plunder the Town, Sir,
+And pull his Enemies down, Sir,
+  In time may be an Officer great.
+
+It is the Sword does order all,
+  Makes Peasants rise, and Princes fall;
+All Sylogisms in vain are spilt,
+  No Logick like a Basket-hilt:
+  It handles 'em joint by joint Sir,
+Quilling and drilling, and spilling, and Killing profoundly,
+Until the Disputers on Ground lie,
+  And have never a word to say;
+Unless it be Quarter, Quarter, Truth is confuted by a Carter,
+By stripping and nipping, and ripping and quipping Evasions,
+Doth Conquer a Power of Perswasions,
+  _Aristotle_ hath lost the Day.
+
+The Musket bears so great a force,
+To Learning it has no Remorse;
+The Priest, the Layman, the Lord,
+Find no distinction from the Sword;
+Tan tarra, Tan tarra the Trumpet,
+  Now the Walls begin to crack,
+The Councellors struck dumb too,
+By the Parchment upon the Drum too;
+Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub an Alarum,
+  Each Corporal now can out-dare 'em,
+  Learned _Littleton_ goes to rack.
+
+Then since the Sword so bright doth shine,
+We'll leave our Wenches and our Wine,
+And follow _Mars_ where-e'er he runs,
+And turn our Pots and Pipes to Guns.
+The Bottles shall be Grenadoes,
+We'll bounce about the Bravado's
+By huffing and puffing, and snuffing and cuffing the _French_ Boys,
+Whose Brows have been dy'd in a Trench Boys;
+  Well got Fame is a Warriour's Wife,
+The Drawer shall be the Drummer,
+We'll be Colonels all next Summer
+By hiking and tilting, and pointing and jointing like brave Boys,
+We shall have Gold or a Grave, Boys,
+  And there's an end of a Soldier's Life.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ MISSES _Complaint._
+
+_Tune_, Packington's Pound.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How now Sister _Betteris_, why look you so sad?
+_Gillian._ The times are so hard and our trading so bad,
+That we in our Function no Money can gain,
+Our Pride and our Bravery for to maintain.
+
+_Bett._ True Sister, _Gillian_, I know it full well,
+But what will you say if such News I do tell?
+And how't will rejoyce you, I'll make it out plain,
+Will make our Trade quick, and more Money will gain.
+
+There's none of the pitiful Tribe we'll be for,
+And Six-penny Customers we will abhor;
+For all those that will our Dominions invade,
+Must pay for their sauce, we must live by our Trade.
+
+_Gil._ Good Sister if you can make this but appear,
+My Spirit and Senses you greatly will chear,
+But a Famine of Flesh will bring all things to pass,
+Or else we are as bad still as ever we was.
+
+_Bett._ Lately a Counsel of Bauds there did meet,
+In _Cock_ and _Pye_ Alley, near _Do-little_ Street:
+And who was the Counsel, and what was there done;
+I'll make it out to you as clear as the Sun.
+
+From _Ratcliffe-highway_, and from _Nightingale-lane_,
+Their Deputies come with a very fine Train:
+Unto these two Couple come long sided _Sue_,
+Is as good as e'er twang'd, if you give her her due.
+
+Then _Tower-Ditch_ and _Hatton-Wall_ sent in their Prayers,
+And drest as compleatly as Horses to Fairs;
+With them Jumping _Jenny_ appear'd, as 'tis said,
+Who ne'er in her Life of a Man was afraid.
+
+The two Metropolitans came from the Park,
+As arch at the Game, as e'er plaid in the Dark;
+Then _Lutener's_-lane a gay Couple did bring,
+Two better, I think, was ne'er stretch'd in hemp-string.
+
+There was many others from Places remote,
+The which were too tedious for me here to note;
+And what was their Business I here will declare,
+How to keep our Trade in Repute they take care.
+
+And first for those Ladies that walk in the Night,
+Their Aprons and Handkerchiefs they should be white,
+And that they do walk more in Town than in Fields,
+For that is the Place most Variety yields.
+
+And those that are over-much worn by their Trade,
+Shall go in a Vessel, their Passage being paid;
+The Venture of Cuckolds, 'tis called by Name,
+And this is the way for to keep up our Fame.
+
+And this is the Ship which the Cuckolds have brought,
+It lies at their Haven, and is to be frought:
+And thither Whores rampant, that please may repair,
+With Master and Captain to truck for their Ware.
+
+And for a Supply that our trade may increase,
+For wanton Commodity it will grow less;
+We'll visit the Carriers, and take them up there,
+And then for their Tutering we will take care.
+
+In this we shall ease all the Countries to do't,
+And do our selves Pleasure and Profit to boot;
+For one that is crack'd in the Country before,
+In _London_ will make a spick and span Whore.
+
+There's many more Precepts which they did advise,
+But these which I'll give you here shall suffice:
+And when you have heard them, I think you will say,
+We ne'er were more likely to thrive in our way.
+
+
+_Some Orders agreed upon at a General Consultation of the_ Sisterhood
+_of_ Nightingale-lane, Ratcliff-high-way, Tower-Ditch, Rose-mary-lane,
+Hatton-Wall, Saffron-hill, Wetstone's-Park, Lutener's-lane, _and other
+Places adjacent, for the general Encouragement and Advancement of
+their Occupation._
+
+I.
+
+_That no_ Night-walker _presume to go without a White Apron and
+Handkerchief, the better to be seen._
+
+II.
+
+_To keep due Time and Hours, for fear of the Constable and his Watch._
+
+III.
+
+_That those which are over-worn, cast off and cashier'd, do repair to
+the Ship called_ (the Cuckolds Venture) _now riding at_ Cuckolds
+Haven, _thence to be transported over-Sea, to have their Breeches
+repaired._
+
+IV.
+
+_That a due care be taken to visit the Carriers for crack'd
+Maidenheads, for the use and increase of our Occupation._
+
+V.
+
+_That all honest Women belonging to either_ Wittals _or_ Cuckolds, _be
+admitted to the principal Places in this Ship._
+
+VI.
+
+_And lastly, for the better State and Magnificence of the honourable
+Corporation of_ W----es, _'tis order'd that a Chariot be made to be
+drawn by_ Cuckolds, _the_ Cuckold-makers _to drive, and the_ Wittals
+_to ride._
+
+
+
+
+_The well approved Doctor:_
+
+_Or, an Infallible Cure for_ CUCKOLDS. _To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+There is a fine Doctor now come to Town,
+Whose practice in Physick hath gain'd him Renown,
+In curing of Cuckolds he hath the best Skill,
+By giving one Dose of his approved Pill.
+
+His Skill is well known, and his Practice is great,
+Then come to the Doctor before 'tis too late;
+His Med'cines are safe, and the Doctor is sure,
+He takes none in Hand but he perfects, the Cure.
+
+The Doctor himself he doth freely unfold,
+That he can Cure Cuckolds tho' never so old;
+He helps this Distemper in all sorts of Men,
+At Forty and Fifty, yea, Threescore and Ten.
+
+There was an old Man lived near to the _Strand_,
+Decripid and Feeble, scarce able to stand;
+Who had been a Cuckold full Forty long Years,
+But hearing of this how he prick'd up his Ears.
+
+Away to the Doctor he went with all speed,
+Where he struck a bargain, they soon were agreed;
+He cured his Forehead that nothing was seen,
+And now he's as brisk as a Youth of Fifteen.
+
+Now this being known, how his Fame it did ring,
+And unto the Doctor much trading did bring;
+They came to the Doctor out of e'ery Shire,
+From all Parts and Places, yea both far and near.
+
+Both _Dutchmen_ and _Scotchmen_ to _London_ did ride,
+With _Shonny-ap-Morgan_, and Thousands beside;
+Thus all sorts and sizes, both rich Men and poor,
+They came in whole Cart-loads to this Doctor's door.
+
+Some whining, some weeping, some careful and sad,
+And some was contented, and others born mad;
+Some crooked, some straight Horns, and some overgrown,
+The like in all Ages I think was ne'er known.
+
+Some rich and brave flourishing Cuckolds were there,
+That came in whole Droves, Sir, as if to _Horn-Fair_;
+For now there is hopes to be cur'd of their Grief,
+The Doctor declares in the Fall of the Leaf.
+
+Let none be so foolish as now to neglect,
+This Doctor's great Kindness and civil Respect;
+Tho' rich Men may pay, yet the Poor may go free,
+So kind and so courteous a Doctor is he.
+
+'Tis known he so worthy a Conscience doth make,
+Poor Cuckolds he'll cure them for Charity sake;
+Nay, farther than this still his Love does enlarge,
+Providing for them at his own Cost and Charge.
+
+But some are so wicked, that they will exclaim
+Against their poor Wives, making 'em bare the Blame;
+And will not look out in the least for a Cure,
+But all their sad Pains and their Tortures endure.
+
+But 'tis without reason, for he that is born
+Under such a Planet, is Heir to the Horn:
+Then come to the Doctor both rich Men and Poor,
+He'll carefully cure you, what would you have more?
+
+The Term of his Time here the Doctor does write,
+From six in the Morning 'till seven at Night;
+Where in his own Chamber he still will remain,
+At the Sign of the _Woodcock_ in _Vinegar-lane_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Doctor doth here likewise present you with the Receipt of his
+Infallible Medicine, that those which have no occasion for it
+themselves, may do good to their Neighbours and Acquaintances: And
+take it here as followeth._
+
+
+Take five Pound of Brains of your _December_ Flies,
+And forty true Tears from a _Crocodile's_ Eyes;
+The Wit of a _Weasel_, the Wool of a _Frog_,
+With an Ounce of Conserve of _Michaelmas_ Fog.
+
+And make him a Poultis when he goes to Bed,
+To bind to his Temples behind of his Head;
+As hot as the Patient he well can endure,
+And this is for Cuckolds an absolute Cure.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+Good Neighbour why do you look awry,
+  You are a wond'rous Stranger;
+You walk about, you huff and pout,
+  As if you'd burst with Anger:
+Is it for that your Fortune's great,
+  Or you so Wealthy are?
+Or live so high there's none a-nigh
+  That can with you compare?
+But t'other Day I heard one say,
+  Your Husband durst not show his Ears,
+But like a Lout does walk about,
+  So full of Sighs and Fears:
+Good Mrs. _Tart_, I caren't a Fart,
+  For you nor all your Jears.
+
+My Husband's known for to be one,
+  That is most Chast and pure;
+And so would be continually,
+  But for such Jades as you are:
+You wash, you lick, you smug, you trick,
+  You toss a twire a grin;
+You nod and wink, and in his Drink,
+  You strive to draw him in:
+You Lie you Punck, you're always Drunk,
+  And now you Scold and make a Strife,
+And like a Whore you run o' th' Score,
+  And lead him a weary Life;
+Tell me so again you dirty Quean,
+  And I'll pull you by the Quoif.
+
+Go dress those Brats, those nasty Rats,
+  That have a Lear so drowzy;
+With Vermin spread they look like Dead,
+  Good Faith they're always Lousie:
+Pray hold you there, and do not swear,
+  You are not half so sweet;
+You feed yours up with bit and sup,
+  And give them a dirty Teat:
+My Girls, my Boys, my only Joys,
+  Are better fed and taught than yours;
+You lie you Flirt, you look like Dirt,
+  And I'll kick you out of Doors;
+A very good Jest, pray do your best,
+  And Faith I'll quit your Scores.
+
+Go, go you are a nasty Bear,
+  Your Husband cannot bear it;
+A nasty Quean as e'er was seen,
+  Your Neighbours all can swear it:
+A fulsome Trot and good for nought,
+  Unless it be to chat;
+You stole a Spoon out of the Room,
+  Last Christning you were at:
+You lye you Bitch you've got the Itch,
+  Your Neighbours know you are not sound;
+Look how you Claw with your nasty Paw,
+  And I'll fell you to the Ground;
+You've tore my Hood, you shall make it good
+  If it cost me Forty Pound.
+
+
+
+
+_The Jovial_ COBLER _of St._ Hellens.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I am a jovial Cobler bold and brave,
+And as for Employment enough I have:
+For to keep jogging my Hammer and Awl,
+  _Whilst I sit Singing and Whistling in my Stall,_
+  _Stall, Stall, whilst I sit Singing and Whistling in my Stall._
+
+But there's _Dick_ the Carman, and _Hodge_ who drives the Dray
+For Sixteen, or Eighteen Pence a Day,
+Slave in the Dirt, whilst I with my Awl,
+  _Get more Money, sitting, sitting in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's _Tom_ the Porter, Companion of the Pot,
+Who stands in the Street with his Rope and Knot,
+Waiting at a Corner to hear who will him call,
+  _Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's the jolly Broom-man, his Bread for to get,
+Crys Brooms up and down in the open Street,
+And one crys broken Glasses tho' ne'er so small,
+  _Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's another gang of poor smutty Souls,
+Doth trudge up and down to cry Small-coals;
+With a Sack on their Back, at a Door stand and call,
+  _Whilst I am getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's another sort of Notes,
+Who crys up and down old Suits and Coats;
+And perhaps some Days get nothing at all,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's the Jolly Cooper with his Hoops at his Back,
+Who trudgeth up and down to see who lack
+Their Casks to be made tite, with Hoops great and small,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's a Jolly Tinker that loves a bonny Lass,
+Who trudges up and down to mend old Brass;
+With his long smutty Punch to force holes withal,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there is another old _Tom Terrah_,
+Who up and down the City drives his Barrow;
+To sell his Fruit both great and small,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there is the Blind and Lame, with a Wooden Leg,
+Who up and down the City they forced are to beg
+Some Crumbs of Comfort, the which are but small,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's a gang of Wenches who Oysters sell,
+And Powder _Moll_ with her sweet smell;
+She trudges up and down with Powder and Ball,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's the jovial Girls with their Milking-Pails,
+Who trudge up and down with their Draggle Tails:
+Flip flapping at their Heels for Custom they call,
+  _Whilst I sit getting Money, Money in my Stall_, &c.
+
+'Tis these are the Gang who take great Pain,
+And it is those who do me maintain;
+But when it blows and rains I do pity them all,
+_To see them trudge about while I am in my Stall_, &c.
+
+And there's many more who slave and toil,
+Their living to get, but it is not worth while,
+To mention them, so I'll sing in my Stall,
+  _I am the happiest Mortal, Mortal of them all,_
+  _All, all, I am the happiest Mortal, Mortal of them all._
+
+
+
+
+_The Merchant and the Fidler's_ WIFE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+It was a Rich Merchant Man,
+  That had both Ship and all;
+And he would cross the salt Seas,
+  Tho' his cunning it was but small.
+
+The Fidler and his Wife,
+  They being nigh at hand;
+Would needs go sail along with him,
+  From _Dover_ unto _Scotland_.
+
+The Fidler's Wife look'd brisk,
+  Which made the Merchant smile;
+He made no doubt to bring it about,
+  The Fidler to beguile.
+
+Is this thy Wife the Merchant said,
+  She looks like an honest Spouse;
+Ay that she is, the Fidler said,
+  That ever trod on Shoes.
+
+Thy Confidence is very great,
+  The Merchant then did say;
+If thou a Wager darest to bet,
+  I'll tell thee what I will lay.
+
+I'll lay my Ship against thy Fiddle,
+  And all my Venture too;
+So _Peggy_ may gang along with me,
+  My Cabin for to View.
+
+If she continues one Hour with me,
+  Thy true and constant Wife;
+Then shalt thou have my Ship and be,
+  A Merchant all thy Life.
+
+The Fidler was content,
+  He Danc'd and Leap'd for joy;
+And twang'd his Fiddle in merriment,
+  For _Peggy_ he thought was Coy.
+
+Then _Peggy_ she went along,
+  His Cabin for to View;
+And after her the Merchant-Man,
+  Did follow, we found it true.
+
+When they were once together,
+  The Fidler was afraid;
+For he crep'd near in pitious fear,
+  And thus to _Peggy_ he said.
+
+Hold out, sweet _Peggy_ hold out,
+  For the space of two half Hours;
+If thou hold out, I make no doubt,
+  But the Ship and Goods are ours.
+
+In troth, sweet _Robin_, I cannot,
+  He hath got me about the Middle;
+He's lusty and strong, and hath laid me along,
+  O _Robin_ thou'st lost thy Fiddle.
+
+If I have lost my Fiddle,
+  Then am I a Man undone;
+My Fiddle whereon I so often play'd,
+  Away I needs must run.
+
+O stay the Merchant said,
+  And thou shalt keep thy place;
+And thou shalt have thy Fiddle again,
+  But _Peggy_ shall carry the Case.
+
+Poor _Robin_ hearing that,
+  He look'd with a Merry-chear;
+His wife she was pleas'd, and the Merchant was eas'd,
+  And jolly and brisk they were.
+
+The Fidler he was mad,
+  But valu'd it not a Fig;
+Then _Peggy_ unto her Husband said,
+  Kind _Robin_ play us a Jigg.
+
+Then he took up his Fiddle,
+  And merrily he did play;
+The _Scottish Jigg_ and the _Horn pipe_,
+  And eke the _Irish Hey_.
+
+It was but in vain to grieve,
+  The Deed it was done and past;
+Poor _Robin_ was born to carry the Horn,
+  For _Peggy_ could not be Chast.
+
+Then Fidlers all beware,
+  Your Wives are kind you see;
+And he that's made for the Fidling Trade,
+  Must never a Merchant be.
+
+For _Peggy_ she knew right well,
+  Although she was but a Woman;
+That Gamesters Drink, and Fidlers Wives,
+  They are ever Free and Common.
+
+
+
+
+_The Unconstant_ WOMAN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Did you not hear of a gallant Sailor,
+  Whose Pockets they were lin'd with Gold;
+He fell in Love with a pretty Creature,
+  As I to you the Truth unfold:
+With a kind Salute, and without Dispute,
+  He thought to gain her for his own,
+_Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,_
+  _She has gone and left me all alone._
+
+Don't you remember my pretty _Peggy_,
+  The Oaths and Vows which you made to me:
+All in the Chamber we were together,
+  That you would ne'er unconstant be:
+But you prove strange Love, and from me range,
+  And leave me here to Sigh and Moan;
+_Unconstant Woman is true to no Man,_
+  _She's gone and left me all alone._
+
+As I have Gold you shall have Treasure,
+  Or any dainty kind of thing;
+Thou may'st command all Delights and Pleasure,
+  And what you'd have, Love, I would you bring:
+But you prove shy, and at last deny,
+  Him that admires you alone;
+_Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,_
+  _She's left me here to make my moan._
+
+When first I saw your charming Beauty,
+  I stood like one all in amaze;
+I study'd only how to pay Duty,
+  And could not speak but only gaze,
+At last said I, fair Maid comply,
+  And ease a wretched Lover's Moan;
+_Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,_
+  _She's gone and left me here alone._
+
+I made her Presents of Rings and Jewels,
+  With Diamond Stones I gave her too;
+She took them kindly, and call'd me Jewel,
+  And said her Love to me was true:
+But in the end she prov'd unkind,
+  When I thought she had been my own;
+_Unconstant Woman_, &c.
+
+For three Months time we saw each other,
+  And she oft said she'd be my Wife;
+I had her Father's Consent and Mother,
+  I thought to have liv'd a happy Life:
+She'd laugh and toy both Night and Day,
+  But at length she chang'd her Tone;
+_Unconstant Woman, proves true to no Man,_
+  _She's left me now to make my Moan._
+
+Many a time we have walk'd together,
+  Both Hand in Hand to an Arbour green;
+Where Tales of Love in Sun-shiny Weather,
+  We did discourse and were not seen:
+With a kind Salute we did dispute,
+  While we together were alone:
+_Unconstant Woman she's true to no Man,_
+  _She's gone and left me here alone._
+
+Since _Peggy_ has my kindness slighted,
+  I'll never trust a Woman more;
+'Twas in her alone I e'er delighted,
+  But since she's false I'll leave the Shoar:
+In Ship I'll enter, on Seas I'll venture,
+  And sail the World where I'm not known:
+_Unconstant Woman proves true to no Man,_
+  _She's gone and left me here alone._
+
+
+
+
+_Sorrow banish'd in a_ MUG. _The Words_ _by Sir_ Edward Morgan.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+If Sorrow the Tyrant invade thy Breast,
+  Haul out the foul Fiend by the Lug, the Lug,
+Let nought of to morrow disturb thy Rest,
+  But dash out his Brains with a Mug, a Mug.
+If Business unluckily goes not well,
+  Let the fond Fools their Affections hug,
+To shew our Allegiance we'll go to the Bell,
+  And banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+If thy Wife proves not one of the Best, the Best,
+  But admits no time but to think, to think;
+Or the weight of thy Forehead bow down thy Crest,
+  Divert the dull _Damon_ with Drink, with Drink,
+If Miss prove peevish and will not gee,
+  Ne'er pine, ne'er pine at the wanton Pug,
+But find out a fairer, a kinder than she,
+  And banish Dispair in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+If dear Assignation be crost, be crost,
+  And Mistress go home in a rage, a rage;
+Let not thy poor Heart like a Ship be tost,
+  But with a brisk Brimmer engage, engage:
+What if the fine Fop and the Mask fall out.
+  And the one Hug, and t'other Tug,
+While they pish and fie, we will frolick in Stout,
+  And banish all Care in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+If toying young _Damon_ by _Sylvia's_ Charms,
+  At length should look pale and perplexed be;
+To cure the Distemper and ease those harms,
+  Go straight to the _Globe_ and ask Number three:
+There beauties like _Venus_ thou canst not lack,
+  Be kind to them, they will sweetly hug;
+There's choice of the Fairest, the Brown or the Black.
+  Then banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+Let then no Misfortune e'er make thee dull,
+  But drink away care in a Jug, a Jug;
+Then let not thy Tide steal away, but pull,
+  Carouse away though in a Mug, a Mug:
+While others for Greatness and Fortune's doom,
+  While they for their Ambition tug;
+We'll sit close and snug in a Sea-coal Room,
+  And banish Despair in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+Let Zealots o'er Coffee new Plots devise,
+  And lace with fresh Treason the Pagan Drug;
+Whilst our Loyal Blood flows our Veins shall shine,
+  Like our Faces inspir'd with a Mug, a Mug:
+Let Sectaries dream of Alarms, Alarms,
+  And Fools still for new changes tug;
+While fam'd for our Loyalty we'll stand to our Arms,
+  And drink the King's Health in a Mug, a Mug.
+
+Come then to the Queen let the next Advance,
+  And all Loyal Lads of true _English_ Race;
+Who hate the stum Poison of _Spain_ and _France_,
+  Or to _Bourdeux_ or _Burgundy_ do give place;
+The Flask and the Bottle breeds Ach and Gout,
+  Whilst we, we all the Season lie snug;
+Neither _Spaniard_ nor _Flemming_, can vie with our Stout,
+  And shall submit to the Mug, the Mug.
+
+
+
+
+_The Good Fellow. Words by Mr._ Alex. Brome.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+      Stay, stay, shut the Gates,
+      T'other Quart, faith, it is not so late
+        As you're thinking,
+    Those Stars which you see,
+    In this Hemisphere be,
+  But the Studs in your Cheeks by your Drinking:
+The Sun is gone to Tiple all Night in the Sea Boys,
+To Morrow he'll blush that he's paler than we Boys,
+Drink Wine, give him Water, 'tis Sack makes us jee Boys.
+
+    Fill, fill up the Glass,
+    To the next merry Lad let it pass,
+        Come away with't:
+    Come Set Foot to Foot,
+    And but give our Minds to't,
+  'Tis Heretical Six that doth slay Wit,
+No Helicon like to the Juice of the Vine is,
+For _Phoebus_ had never had Wit, nor Diviness,
+Had his Face been bow dy'd as thine, his, and mine is.
+
+    Drink, drink off your Bowls,
+    We'll enrich both our Heads and our Souls
+        With Canary;
+    A Carbuncled Face,
+    Saves a tedious Race,
+  For the _Indies_ about us we carry:
+Then hang up good Faces, we'll drink till our Noses
+Give freedom to speak what our Fancy disposes,
+Beneath whose protection is under the Roses.
+
+    This, this must go round,
+    Off your Hats, till that the Pavement be Crown'd
+        With your Beavers;
+    A Red-coated Face,
+    Frights a Searjeant at Mace,
+  And the Constable trembles to shivers:
+In state march our Faces like those of the _Quorum_,
+When the Wenches fall down and the Vulgar adore'em,
+And our Noses, like Link-boys, run shining before'em.
+
+
+
+
+_The Nymphs Holiday. The Tune of the Nightingale._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Upon a Holiday, when Nymphs had leave to play,
+I walk'd unseen, on a pleasant Green,
+Where I heard a Maid in an angry Spleen,
+Complaining to a Swain, to leave his drudging Pain,
+And sport with her upon the Plain;
+    But he the silly Clown,
+Regardless of her Moan, did leave her all alone,
+  Still she cry'd, come away, come away bonny Lad come away,
+I cannot come, I will not come, I cannot come, my
+    Work's not done,
+  Was all the Words this Clown did say.
+
+She vex'd in her Mind to hear this Lad's reply,
+To _Venus_ she went, in great Discontent,
+To desire her Boy with his Bow ready bent,
+To take a nimble Dart, and strike him to the Heart,
+For disobeying her Commandment:
+    _Cupid_ then gave the Swain such a Bang,
+As made him to gang with this bonny Lass along,
+  Still she cry'd, come away, come away bonny Lad, come hither,
+I come, I come, I come, I come, I come, I come,
+  So they gang'd along together.
+
+
+
+
+_Good Honest Trooper take warning by_ DONALD COOPER. _To the Tune of_
+Daniel Cooper.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Bonny Lad came to the Court,
+  His Name was _Donald Cooper_,
+And he Petition'd to the King,
+  That he might be a Trooper:
+      He said that he,
+      By Land and Sea,
+Had fought to Admiration,
+      And with _Montross_
+      Had many blows,
+Both for his King and Nation.
+
+The King did his Petition grant,
+  And said he lik'd him dearly,
+Which gave to _Donald_ more content,
+  Than Twenty Shillings yearly:
+      This wily Leard
+      Rode in the Guard,
+And lov'd a strong Beer Barrel;
+      Yet stout enough,
+      To Fight and Cuff,
+But was not given to Quarrel.
+
+Till on a _Saturday_ at Night,
+  He walked in the Park, Sir;
+And there he kenn'd a well fair Lass,
+  When it was almost dark, Sir;
+      Poor _Donald_ he
+      Drew near to see,
+And kist her bonny Mow, Sir;
+      He laid her flat
+      Upon her back,
+And bang'd her side Weam too, Sir.
+
+He took her by the Lilly white Hand,
+  And kiss'd his bonny _Mary_,
+Then they did to the Tavern go,
+  Where they did drink Canary;
+      When he was Drunk,
+      In came a Punck,
+And ask'd gan he would Mow her;
+      Then he again,
+      With Might and Main,
+Did bravely lay her o'er, Sir.
+
+Poor _Donald_ he rose up again,
+  As nothing did him ail, Sir;
+But little kenn'd this bonny Lass,
+  Had Fire about her Tail, Sir:
+      When Night was spent
+      Then Home he went,
+And told it with a Hark, Sir;
+      How he did Kiss
+      A dainty Miss,
+And lifted up the Sark, Sir.
+
+But e'er a Month had gone about,
+Poor _Donald_ walked sadly:
+And every yean enquir'd of him,
+  What gar'd him leuk so badly:
+      A Wench, quoth he,
+      Gave Snuff to me,
+Out of her Placket box, Sir;
+      And I am sure,
+      She prov'd a Whore,
+And given to me the Pox, Sir.
+
+Poor _Donald_ he being almost Dead,
+  Was turn'd out of the Guard, Sir;
+And never could get in again,
+  Although he was a Leard, Sir:
+      When _Mars_ doth meet,
+      With _Venus_ sweet,
+And struggles to surrender;
+      The Triumph's lost,
+      Then never trust
+A Feminine Commander.
+
+Poor _Donald_ he went home again,
+  Because he lost his Place, Sir;
+For playing of a Game at Whisk,
+  And turning up an Ace, Sir;
+      Ye Soldiers all,
+      Both great and small,
+A Foot-man or a Trooper;
+      When you behold,
+      A Wench that's bold
+Remember _Donald Cooper_.
+
+
+
+
+_The Jovial Drinker._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Pox on those Fools, who exclaim against Wine,
+  And fly the dear sweets that the Bottle doth bring;
+It heightens the Fancy, the Wit does refine,
+  And he that was first Drunk was made the first King.
+
+By the help of good Claret old Age becomes Youth,
+  And sick Men still find this the only Physitian;
+Drink largely, you'll know by experience, the Truth,
+  That he that drinks most is the best Politician.
+
+To Victory this leads on the brave Cavalier,
+  And makes all the Terrors of War, but Delight;
+This flushes his Courage, and beats off base Fear,
+  'Twas that taught _Caesar_ and _Pompey_ to fight.
+
+This supports all our Friends, and knocks down our Foes,
+  This makes us all Loyal Men from Courtier to Clown;
+Like _Dutchmen_ from Brandy, from this our Strength grows
+  So 'tis Wine, noble Wine, that's a Friend to the Crown.
+
+
+
+
+_The Sexton's_ SONG.
+
+_Sung by_ BEN. JOHNSON, _in the Play of_ Hamlet _Prince of_ Denmark,
+_acting the_ _Grave maker._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Once more to these Arms my lov'd Pick-ax and Spade,
+With the rest of the Tools that belong to my Trade;
+I that Buried others am rose from the Dead,
+  _With a Ring, a Ring, Ring, a Ring, and Dig a Dig, Dig._
+
+My Thoughts are grown easie, my Mind is at rest,
+Since Things at the worst are now grown to the best,
+And I and the Worms that long fasted shall Feast,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+How I long to be Measuring and cleaving the Ground,
+And commending the Soil for the Sculls shall be found,
+Whose thickness alone, not the Soil makes them sound,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+Look you Masters, I'll cry, may the Saints ne'er me save,
+If this ben't as well contriv'd sort of a Grave,
+As a Man could wish on such occasion to have,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+Observe but the make of't, I'll by you be try'd,
+And the Coffin so fresh there that lies on that side,
+It's Fifty Years since he that owns it has dy'd.
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+I hope to remember your Friend in a Bowl,
+An honest good Gentleman, God rest his Soul,
+He has that for a Ducket is worth a Pistole,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+At Marriages next I'll affirm it and swear,
+If the Bride would be private so great was my Care,
+That not a Soul knew that the Priest joyn'd the Pair,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+When I myself whisper'd and told it about
+What Door they'd go in at, what Door they'd go out,
+To receive the Salutes of the Rabble and Rout,
+  _With a Ring_, &c.
+
+At Chris'nings I'll sit with abundance of Joy,
+And Drink to the Health of the Girl or the Boy,
+At the same I wish that Fate both would destroy,
+  _That I may Ring_, &c.
+
+What e'er's my Religion, my Meaning's to Thrive,
+So the Child that is born, to the Font but survive,
+No matter how short it's continuance alive,
+  _That I may Ring_, &c.
+
+Hear then my good Neighbours attend to my cry,
+And bravely get Children, and decently die,
+No Sexton now breathing shall use you as I,
+  _With a Ring a Ring, Ring a Ring, Dig a Dig, Dig._
+
+
+
+
+_The Great_ BOOBEE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+My Friend if you would understand,
+  My Fortunes what they are;
+I once had Cattle House and Land,
+  But now I am never the near:
+My Father left a good Estate,
+  As I may tell to thee;
+I couzened was of all I had,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+I went to School with a good intent,
+  And for to learn my Book;
+And all the Day I went to play,
+  In it I never did look:
+Full seven Years, or very nigh,
+  As I may tell to thee;
+I could hardly say my Criss-Cross-Row,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+My Father then in all the hast,
+  Did set me to the Plow;
+And for to lash the Horse about,
+  Indeed I knew not how:
+My Father took his Whip in Hand,
+  And soundly lashed me;
+He called me Fool and Country Clown,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+But I did from my Father run,
+  For I would Plow no more;
+Because he had so lashed me,
+  And made my sides so sore:
+But I will go to _London_ Town,
+  Some Fashions for to see;
+When I came there they call'd me Clown,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+But as I went along the Street,
+  I carried my Hat in my Hand,
+And to every one that I did meet,
+  I bravely Buss'd my Hand:
+Some did laugh, and some did scoff,
+  And some did mock at me;
+And some did say I was a Woodcock,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+Then I did walk in hast to _Paul's_
+  The Steeple for to view;
+Because I heard some People say,
+  It should be builded new;
+Then I got up unto the Top,
+  The City for to see;
+It was so high it made me cry,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+From thence I went to _Westminster_,
+  And for to see the Tombs:
+Oh, said I, what a House is here,
+  With an infinite sight of Rooms:
+Sweetly the Abby Bells did Ring,
+  It was a fine sight to see;
+Methought I was going to Heav'n in a String,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+But as I went along the Street,
+  The most part of the Day;
+Many Gallants I did meet,
+  Methought they were very gay:
+I blew my Nose and pist my Hose,
+  Some People did me see:
+They said I was a Beastly Fool:
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+Next Day I thro' _Pye-corner_ past,
+  The Roast-meat on the Stall;
+Invited me to take a Taste,
+  My Money was but small:
+The Meat I pickt, the Cook me kickt,
+  As I may tell to thee;
+He beat me sore and made me roar,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+As I thro' _Smithfield_ lately walkt,
+  A gallant Lass I met:
+Familiarly with me she talk't,
+  Which I cannot forget:
+She proferr'd me a Pint of Wine,
+  Methought she was wondrous free,
+To the Tavern then I went with her,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+She told me we were near of Kin,
+  And call'd for Wine good store;
+Before the Reckoning was brought in,
+  My Cousin prov'd a Whore:
+My Purse she pickt, and went away,
+  My Cousin couzened me,
+The Vintner kickt me out of Door;
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+At the _Exchange_ when I came there,
+  I saw most gallant things;
+I thought the Pictures living were,
+  Of all our English Kings:
+I doft my Hat and made a Leg,
+  And kneeled on my Knee;
+The People laugh'd and call'd me Fool,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+To _Paris-Garden_ then I went,
+  Where there is great resort;
+My Pleasure was my Punishment,
+  I did not like the Sport:
+The Garden-Bull with his stout Horns,
+  On high then tossed me;
+I did bewray my self with fear,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+The Bearward went to save me then,
+  The People flock'd about;
+I told the Bear-Garden-Men,
+  My Guts they were almost out:
+They said I stunk most grievously,
+  No Man would pity me;
+They call'd me witless Fool and Ass,
+  _And a great Boobee_.
+
+Then o'er the water I did pass,
+  As you shall understand;
+I dropt into the Thames, alass,
+  Before I came to Land:
+The Waterman did help me out,
+  And thus did say to me;
+'Tis not thy fortune to be drown'd,
+  _Like a great Boobee_.
+
+But I have learned so much Wit,
+  Shall shorten all my Cares;
+If I can but a Licence get,
+  To play before the Bears:
+'Twould be a gallant Place indeed,
+  As I may tell to thee:
+Then who dares call me Fool or Ass,
+  _Or great Boobee_.
+
+
+
+
+_Set by Mr._ Jeremiah Clark,
+
+_Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When Maids live to Thirty, yet never repented,
+When _Europe's_ at Peace and all _England_ contented,
+When Gamesters won't Swear, and no bribery thrives,
+Young Wives love old Husbands, young Husbands old Wives;
+When Landlords love Taxes, and Soldiers love Peace:
+And Lawyers forget a rich Client to Fleece:
+When an old Face shall please as well as a new,
+Wives, Husbands, and Lovers will ever be true.
+
+When Bullies leave huffing and Cowards their Trembling,
+And Courtiers and Women and Priests their Dissembling,
+When these shall do nothing against what they teach,
+Pluralities hate, and we mind what they Preach:
+When Vintners leave Brewing to draw the Wine pure,
+And Quacks by their Medicines kill less than they Cure,
+When an old Face shall please as well as a new,
+Wives, Husbands and Lovers will ever be true.
+
+
+
+
+_Words to a Tune of_ Mr. BARRET'S, _call'd the_ CATHERINE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In the pleasant Month of _May_,
+  When the merry, merry Birds began to sing;
+And the Blossoms fresh and gay;
+  Usher'd in the welcome Spring,
+      When the long cold Winter's gone,
+      And the bright enticing Moon,
+      In the Evening sweetly shon:
+When the bonny Men and Maids tript it on the Grass;
+      At a jolly Country Fair,
+      When the Nymphs in the best appear;
+We resolv'd to be free, with a Fiddle and a She,
+  E'ery Shepherd and his Lass.
+
+In the middle of the Sport,
+  When the Fiddle went brisk and the Glass went round,
+And the Pretty gay Nymphs for Court,
+  With their Merry Feet beat the Ground;
+      Little _Cupid_ arm'd unseen,
+      With a Bow and Dart stole in,
+      With a conquering Air and Mien,
+And empty'd his Bow thro' the Nymphs and the Swains;
+      E'ery Shepherd and his Mate,
+      Soon felt their pleasing Fate,
+And longing to try in Enjoyment to die,
+  Love reign'd o'er all the Plains.
+
+Now the sighing Swain gave o'er,
+  And the wearied Nymphs could dance no more,
+There were other Thoughts that mov'd,
+  E'ery pretty kind Pair that Lov'd:
+      In the Woods the Shepherds lay,
+      And mourn'd the time away,
+      And the Nymphs as well as they,
+Long'd to taste what it is that their Senses cloys,
+      Till at last by consent of Eyes,
+      E'ery Swain with his pretty Nymph flies,
+E'ery Buxom She retires with her He,
+  To act Love's solid Joys.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG. _Sung by Mrs._ LUCAS _at the Old_ THEATRE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+By Moon-light on the Green,
+  Our bonny Lasses Cooing;
+And dancing there I've seen,
+  Who seem'd alone worth Wooing:
+Her Skin like driven Snow,
+  Her Hair brown as a Berry:
+Her Eyes black as a Slow,
+  Her Lips red as a Cherry.
+
+Oh how she tript it, skipt it,
+  Leapt it, stept it, whiskt it,
+Friskt it, whirld it, twirl'd it,
+  Swimming, springing, starting:
+So quick, the tune to nick,
+  With a heave and a toss:
+And a jerk at parting,
+  With a heave, and a toss, and a jerk at parting.
+
+As she sat down I bowed,
+  And veil'd my bonnet to her;
+Then took her from the Crowd,
+  With Honey words to woo her;
+Sweet blithest Lass, quoth I,
+  It being bleaky Weather:
+I prithee let us try,
+  Another Dance together;
+_Oh how she_, &c.
+
+Whilst suing thus I stood,
+  Quoth she, pray leave your fooling;
+Some Dancing heats the Blood,
+  But yours I fear lacks cooling:
+Still for a Dance I pray'd,
+  And we at last had Seven;
+And whilst the Fiddle play'd,
+  She thought her self in Heaven,
+_Oh how she_, &c.
+
+At last she with a Smile,
+  To Dance again desir'd me;
+Quoth I, pray stay a while,
+  For now good faith ye've tir'd me:
+With that she look'd on me,
+  And sigh'd with muckle sorrow;
+Than gang ye'ar gate, quoth she,
+  But Dance again to morrow.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ QUAKER'S SONG. _Sung by Mrs._ Willis _at the New Play-House._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Amongst the pure ones all,
+  Which Conscience doth profess;
+And yet that sort of Conscience,
+  Doth practice nothing less:
+I mean the Sect of those Elect,
+  That loath to live by Merit;
+That leads their Lives with other Mens Wives,
+  According unto the Spirit.
+
+One met with a Holy Sister of ours,
+  A Saint who dearly lov'd him:
+And fain he would have kiss'd her,
+  Because the Spirit mov'd him:
+But she deny'd, and he reply'd,
+  You're damn'd unless you do it;
+Therefore consent, do not repent,
+  For the Spirit doth move me to it.
+
+She not willing to offend, poor Soul,
+  Yielded unto his Motion;
+And what these two did intend,
+  Was out of pure Devotion:
+To lye with a Friend and a Brother,
+  She thought she shou'd die no Sinner,
+But e'er five Months were past,
+  The Spirit was quick within her.
+
+But what will the Wicked say,
+  When they shall here of this Rumour;
+They'd laugh at us every Day,
+  And Scoff us in every Corner:
+Let 'em do so still if that they will,
+  We mean not to follow their Fashion,
+They're none of our Sect, nor of our Elect,
+  Nor none of our Congregation.
+
+But when the time was come,
+  That she was to be laid;
+It was no very great Crime,
+  Committed by her they said:
+'Cause they did know, and she did show,
+  'Twas done by a Friend and a Brother,
+But a very great Sin they said it had been,
+  If it had been done by another.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As Oyster _Nan_ stood by her Tub,
+  To shew her vicious Inclination;
+She gave her noblest Parts a Scrub,
+  And sigh'd for want of Copulation:
+A Vintner of no little Fame,
+  Who excellent Red and White can sell ye,
+Beheld the little dirty Dame,
+  As she stood scratching of her Belly.
+
+Come in, says he, you silly Slut,
+  'Tis now a rare convenient Minute;
+I'll lay the Itching of your Scut,
+  Except some greedy Devil be in it:
+With that the Flat-capt Fusby smil'd,
+  And would have blush'd, but that she cou'd not;
+Alass! says she, we're soon beguil'd,
+  By Men to do those things we shou'd not.
+
+From Door they went behind the Bar,
+  As it's by common Fame reported;
+And there upon a Turkey Chair,
+  Unseen the loving Couple sported:
+But being call'd by Company,
+  As he was taking pains to please her;
+I'm coming, coming Sir, says he,
+  My Dear, and so am I, says she, Sir.
+
+Her Mole-hill Belly swell'd about,
+  Into a Mountain quickly after;
+And when the pretty Mouse crept out,
+  The Creature caus'd a mighty Laughter:
+And now she has learnt the pleasing Game,
+  Altho' much Pain and Shame it cost her;
+She daily ventures at the same,
+  And shuts and opens like an Oyster.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ IRISH _Jigg: Or, the Night Ramble._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+One Night in my Ramble I chanc'd to see,
+A thing like a Spirit, it frightened me;
+I cock'd up my Hat and resolv'd to look big,
+And streight fell a Tuning the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+The Devil drew nearer and nearer in short,
+I found it was one of the Petticoat sort;
+My Fears being over, I car'd not a Fig,
+But still I kept tuning the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+And then I went to her, resolving to try her;
+I put her agog of a longing desire;
+I told her I'd give her a Whip for her Gig,
+And a Scourge to the Tune of the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+Then nothing but Dancing our Fancy could please,
+We lay on the Grass and Danc'd at our ease;
+I down'd with my Breeches and off with my Whigg,
+And we fell a Dancing the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+I thank you, kind Sir, for your kindness, said she,
+The Scholar's as Wise as the Master can be;
+For if you should chance to get me with Kid,
+I'll lay the poor Brat to the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+The Dance being ended as you may see,
+We rose by Consent and we both went away;
+I put on my Cloaths and left her to grow big,
+And so I went Roaring the _Irish Jigg_.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+It was a happy Golden Day,
+When fair _Althea_ Kind and Gay,
+Put all but Love and me away;
+I arm'd with soft Words did Address,
+Sweet and kind Kisses far express,
+A greater Joy and Happiness.
+
+Nature the best Instructeress cry'd,
+Her Ivory Pillows to divide,
+That Love might Sail with Wind and Tide;
+She rais'd the Mast and sail'd by it,
+That Day two Tides together met,
+Drove him on Shore soon dropping wet.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Ah! _Caelia_ how can you be Cruel and Fair?
+          Since removing,
+          The Charms that are loving,
+'Twould make a poor Lover Despair;
+'Tis true, I have lov'd you these seven long Years & more,
+Too long for a Man that ne'er was in Love before:
+  And if longer you my Caresses deny,
+  I then am resolv'd to give over my Flames and die.
+
+Love fires the Heart of him that is Brave,
+          Charms the Spirit
+          Of him that is merit,
+And makes the poor Lover a Slave;
+Dull sordid Souls that never knew how to Love,
+Where Nature is plung'd, 'tis a shame to the best above:
+  And if any longer you my Caresses deny,
+  I then am resolv'd to give over my Flames and die.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There was a Knight and he was Young,
+  A riding along the way, Sir;
+And there he met a Lady fair,
+  Among the Cocks of Hay, Sir:
+Quoth he, shall you and I Lady,
+  Among the Grass lye down a;
+And I will have a special Care,
+  Of rumpling of your Gown a.
+
+If you will go along with me,
+  Unto my Father's Hall, Sir;
+You shall enjoy my Maiden-head,
+  And my Estate and all, Sir:
+So he mounted her on a milk-white Steed,
+  Himself upon another;
+And then they rid upon the Road,
+  Like Sister and like Brother.
+
+And when she came to her Father's House,
+  Which was moated round about, Sir;
+She stepped streight within the Gate,
+  And shut this Young Knight out, Sir,
+Here is a Purse of Gold, she said,
+  Take it for your Pains, Sir;
+And I will send my Father's Man,
+  To go home with you again, Sir.
+
+And if you meet a Lady fair,
+  As you go thro' the next Town, Sir;
+You must not fear the Dew of the Grass,
+  Nor the rumpling of her Gown, Sir:
+And if you meet a Lady Gay,
+  As you go by the Hill, Sir;
+If you will not when you may,
+  You shall not when you will, Sir.
+
+There is a Dew upon the Grass,
+  Will spoil your Damask Gown a;
+Which has cost your Father dear,
+  Many Shilling and a Crown a:
+There is a Wind blows from the _West_,
+  Soon will dry the Ground a;
+And I will have a special Care,
+  Of the rumpling of my Gown a.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Slaves to _London_ I'll deceive you,
+For the Country now I leave you:
+Who can bear, and not be Mad,
+Wine so dear, and yet so bad:
+Such a Noise and Air so smoaky,
+That to stun, this to choak ye;
+Men so selfish, false and rude,
+Nymphs so young and yet so lew'd.
+
+Quiet harmless Country Pleasure,
+Shall at home engross my Leisure;
+Farewel _London_, I'll repair,
+To my Native Country Air:
+I leave all thy Pleasures behind me,
+But at home my Wife will find me;
+Oh the Gods! 'tis ten times worse,
+_London_ is a milder Curse.
+
+
+
+
+_The Duke of_ ORMOND'S _March._
+
+_Set by Mr._ CHURCH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+      Ye brave Boys and Tars,
+      That design for the Wars,
+Remember the Action at _Vigo_;
+      And where ORMOND Commands,
+      Let us all joyn our Hands,
+_And where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      Let Conquest and Fame,
+      The Honour proclaim,
+Great ORMOND has gotten at _Vigo_;
+      Let the Trumpets now sound,
+      And the Ecchoes around,
+_Where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      Let the Glories be Sung,
+      Which the ORMONDS have won,
+Long before this great Action at _Vigo_;
+      They're so Loyal and Just,
+      And so true to their Trust,
+_That where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      Old Records of Fame,
+      Of the ORMONDS great Name,
+Their Actions, like these were of _Vigo_;
+      And since this Prince exceeds,
+      In his Fore-Father's Deeds,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      'Tis the Praise of our Crown,
+      That such Men of Renown,
+Shou'd lead on the Van, as at _Vigo_;
+      Where such Lives and Estates
+      Are expos'd for our sakes,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      'Twas the whole Nation's Voice,
+      And we all did rejoyce,
+When we heard he Commanded for _Vigo_;
+      To ANNA so True,
+      All her Foes to pursue,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      'Tis the Voice of the Town,
+      And our Zeal for the Crown,
+To serve ORMOND to _France_, _Spain_, or _Vigo_;
+      So Noble and brave,
+      Both to Conquer and save,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      To the Soldiers so kind,
+      And so humbly inclin'd,
+To wave his Applause gain'd at _Vigo_;
+      Yet so kind and so true,
+      He gave all Men their due,
+_Then where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      We justly do own,
+      All the Honour that's won,
+In _Flanders_, as well as at _Vigo_;
+      But our Subject and Theme,
+      Is of ORMOND's great Name,
+_And where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+      Then take off the Bowl,
+      To that Generous Soul,
+That Commanded so bravely at _Vigo_;
+      And may ANNA approve,
+      Of our Duty and Love,
+_And where he goes, may you go, and I go_.
+
+
+
+
+_A Cure for Melancholy._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Are you grown so Melancholy,
+That you think on nought but Folly;
+        Are you sad,
+        Are you Mad,
+      Are you worse;
+        Do you think,
+        Want of Chink
+      Is a Curse:
+Do you wish for to have,
+Longer Life, or a Grave,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+First I would have a Bag of Gold,
+That should ten Thousand Pieces hold,
+        And all that,
+        In thy Hat,
+      Would I pour;
+        For to spend,
+        On thy Friend,
+      Or thy Whore:
+For to cast away at Dice,
+Or to shift you of your Lice,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+Next I would have a soft Bed made,
+Wherein a Virgin should be laid;
+        That would Play,
+        Any way
+      You'll devise;
+        That would stick
+        Like a Tick,
+      To your Thighs,
+That would bill like a Dove,
+Lye beneath or above,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+Next that same Bowl, where _Jove_ Divine,
+Drank _Nectar_ in, I'd fill with Wine;
+        That whereas,
+        You should pause,
+      You should quaff;
+        Like a _Greek_,
+        Till your Cheek,
+To _Ceres_ and to _Venus_,
+To _Bacchus_ and _Silenus_,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+Last of all there should appear,
+Seven Eunuchs sphere-like Singing here,
+        In the Praise,
+        Of those Ways,
+      Of delights;
+        _Venus_ can,
+        Use with Man,
+      In the Night;
+When he strives to adorn,
+_Vulcan's_ Head with a HORN,
+  _Thus would I Cure ye_.
+
+But if not Gold, nor Woman can,
+Nor Wine, nor Songs, make merry then;
+        Let the Batt,
+        Be thy Mate,
+      And the Owl;
+        Let a Pain,
+        In thy Brain,
+      Make thee Howl;
+Let the Pox be thy Friend,
+And the Plague work thy end,
+  _Thus I would Cure you_.
+
+
+
+
+_To his fairest_ VALENTINE _Mrs._ A.L.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come pretty Birds present your Lays,
+And learn to chaunt a Goddess Praise;
+Ye Wood-Nymphs let your Voices be,
+Employ'd to serve her Deity:
+And warble forth, ye Virgins Nine,
+  _Some Musick to my_ Valentine.
+
+Her Bosom is Loves Paradise,
+There is no Heav'n but in her Eyes;
+She's chaster than the Turtle-Dove,
+And fairer than the Queen of Love;
+Yea, all Perfections do combine,
+To beautifie my Valentine.
+
+She's Nature's choicest Cabinet,
+Where Honour, Beauty, Worth and Wit,
+Are all united in her Breast,
+The Graces claim an Interest:
+All Vertues that are most Divine,
+Shine clearest in my Valentine.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ BALLAD,
+
+_Or_, COLLIN'S _Adventure._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As _Collin_ went from his Sheep to unfold,
+In a Morning of _April_, as grey as 'twas cold,
+In a Thicket he heard a Voice it self spread;
+    Which was, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+He peep'd in the Bushes, and spy'd where there lay
+His Mistress, whose Countenance made _April May_;
+But in her looks some sadness was read,
+    Crying O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+He rush'd in to her, and cry'd what's the matter,
+Ah! _Collin_, quoth she, why will you come at her,
+Who by the false Swain, hath often been misled,
+    For which O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+He turn'd her Milk-pail, and there down he sat,
+His Hands stroak'd his Beard, on his Knee lay his Coat,
+But, O, still _Mopsa_ cry'd, before ought was said,
+    _Collin_, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+No more, quoth stout _Collin_! I ever was true,
+Thou gav'st me a Handkerchief all hemm'd with Blue:
+A Pin-box I gave thee, and a Girdle so Red,
+    Yet still she cry'd, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+Delaying, quoth she, hath made me thus Ill,
+For I never fear'd _Sarah_ that dwelt at the Mill,
+Since in the Ev'ning late her Hogs thou hast fed,
+    For which, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+_Collin_ then chuck'd her under the Chin,
+Cheer up for to love thee I never will lin,
+Says she, I'll believe it when the Parson has read,
+    'Till then, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+Uds boars, quoth _Collin_, I'll new my shon,
+And e'er the Week pass, by the Mass it shall be done:
+You might have done this before, then she said,
+    But now, O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+He gave her a twitch that quite turn'd her round,
+And said, I'm the truest that e'er trod on Ground,
+Come settle thy Milk-Pail fast on thy Head,
+    No more O, O, _I am almost dead_.
+
+Why then I perceive thoul't not leave me in the Lurch,
+I'll don my best Cloths and streight to the Church:
+Jog on, merry _Collin_, jog on before,
+    For I Faith, I Faith, _I'll dye no more_.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ Town-Rakes, _A_ SONG: _Set by Mr._ Daniel Purcell: _Sung by Mr._
+EDWARDS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+What Life can compare with the jolly Town Rakes,
+When in his full swing of all Pleasure he takes?
+At Noon he gets up for a wet and to Dine,
+And Wings the swift Hours with Mirth, Musick, and Wine,
+Then jogs to the Play-house and chats with the Masques,
+And thence to the _Rose_ where he takes his three Flasks,
+There great as a _Caesar_ he revels when drunk,
+And scours all he meets as he reels, as he reels to his Punk,
+And finds the dear Girl in his Arms when he wakes,
+What Life can compare to the jolly Town-Rakes, the Jolly Town-Rakes.
+
+He like the Great Turk has his favourite She,
+But the Town's his _Seraglio_, and still he lives free;
+Sometimes she's a Lady, but as he must range,
+Black _Betty_, or Oyster _Moll_ serve for a Change:
+As he varies his Sports his whole Life is a Feast,
+He thinks him that is soberest is most like a Beast:
+All Houses of Pleasure, breaks Windows and Doors,
+Kicks Bullies and Cullies, then lies with their Whores:
+Rare work for the Surgeon and Midwife he makes,
+What Life can Compare with the jolly Town-Rakes.
+
+Thus in _Covent-Garden_ he makes his Campaigns,
+And no Coffee-House haunts but to settle his Brains;
+He laughs at dry Mortals, and never does think,
+Unless 'tis to get the best Wenches and Drink:
+He dwells in a Tavern, and lives ev'ry where,
+And improving his Hour, lives an age in a Year:
+For as Life is uncertain, he loves to make haste,
+And thus he lives longest because he lives fast:
+Then leaps in the Dark, and his _Exit_ he makes,
+What Death can compare with the jolly Town-Rakes.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG: _Set by Mr._ CLARKE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Young _Coridon_ and _Phillis_
+  Sate in a lovely Grove;
+Contriving Crowns of Lillies,
+  Repeating Tales of Love:
+_And something else, but what I dare not_, &c.
+
+But as they were a Playing,
+  She oagled so the Swain;
+It say'd her plainly saying,
+  Let's kiss to ease our Pain:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+A thousand times he kiss'd her,
+  Laying her on the Green;
+But as he farther press'd her,
+  Her pretty Leg was seen:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+So many Beauties removing,
+  His Ardour still increas'd;
+And greater Joys pursuing,
+  He wander'd o'er her Breast:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+A last Effort she trying,
+  His Passion to withstand;
+Cry'd, but it was faintly crying,
+  Pray take away your Hand:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+Young _Coridon_ grown bolder,
+  The Minute would improve;
+This is the Time he told her,
+  To shew you how I love;
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+The Nymph seem'd almost dying,
+  Dissolv'd in amorous Heat;
+She kiss'd, and told him sighing,
+  My Dear your Love is great:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+But _Phillis_ did recover
+  Much sooner than the Swain;
+She blushing ask'd her Lover,
+  Shall we not Kiss again:
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+Thus Love his Revels keeping,
+  'Till Nature at a stand;
+From talk they fell to Sleeping,
+  Holding each others Hand;
+_And something else_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_The Amorous_ BARBER'S _Passion of Love for his Dear_ BRIDGET.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+With my Strings of small Wire lo I come,
+  And a Cittern made of Wood;
+And a Song altho' you are Deaf and Dumb,
+  May be heard and understood.
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+Oh! take Pity on me, my Dear,
+  Me thy Slave, and me thy Vassal,
+And be not Cruel, as it were,
+  Like to some strong and well built old Castle.
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+Lest as thou passest along the Street,
+  Braver every Day and braver;
+Every one that does thee meet,
+  Will say there goes a Woman-shaver.
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+And again will think fit,
+  And to say they will determine;
+There goes she that with Tongue killed Clip-Chops,
+  As a Man with his Thumbs kill Vermine.
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+For if thou dost then, farewel Pelf,
+  Farewel _Bridget_, for I vow I'll:
+Either in my Bason hang my self,
+  Or drown me in my Towel,
+    _Dumb, dumb_----
+
+
+
+
+_A_ BALLAD, _made by a Gentleman in_ Ireland, _who could not have
+Access to a Lady whom he went to visit, because the Maid the Night
+before had over-laid her pretty Bitch. To the Tune of_, O Hone, O
+Hone.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Oh! let no Eyes be dry,
+  _Oh Hone, Oh Hone_,
+But let's lament and cry,
+  _Oh Hone, O Hone_,
+We're quite undone almost,
+For _Daphne_ on this Coast,
+Has yielded up the Ghost,
+  _Oh Hone, O Hone_.
+
+_Daphne_ my dearest Bitch,
+  _Oh Hone, O Hone_,
+Who did all Dogs bewitch,
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+Was by a careless Maid,
+Pox take her for a Jade,
+In the Night over-laid,
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+
+Oh may she never more
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+Sleep quietly, but snore,
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+May never Irish Lad,
+Sue for her Maiden-head,
+Until it stinks I Gad,
+  _Oh Hone_, &c.
+
+Oh may she never keep
+  _Oh Hone, Oh Hone_;
+Her Water in her Sleep,
+  _Oh Hone, Oh Hone_:
+May never Pence nor Pounds,
+Come more within the Bounds,
+Of her Pocket Ad-sounds,
+  _Oh Hone, Oh Hone_.
+
+
+
+
+DAMON _forsaken. Set by Mr._ WROTH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When that young _Damon_ bless'd my Heart,
+  And in soft Words did move;
+How did I hug the pleasing Dart,
+  And thank'd the God of Love:
+_Cupid_, said I, my best lov'd Lamb,
+  That in my Bosom lives:
+To thee, for kindling this dear Flame,
+  To thee, kind God, I'll give.
+
+But prying Friends o'er-heard my Vow,
+  And murmur'd in my Ear;
+_Damon_ hath neither Flocks nor Plough,
+  Girl what thou dost beware:
+They us'd so long their cursed Art,
+  And damn'd deluding sham;
+That I agreed with them to part,
+  Nor offer'd up my Lamb.
+
+_Cupid_ ask'd for his Offering,
+  'Cause I refus'd to pay;
+He took my _Damon_ on his Wing,
+  And carry'd him quite away:
+Pitch'd him before _Olinda's_ Charms,
+  Those Wonders of the Plain;
+Commanding her into her Arms,
+  To take the dearest Swain.
+
+The envy'd Nymph, soon, soon obey'd,
+  And bore away the Prize;
+'Tis well she did, for had she stay'd,
+  I'd snatch'd him from her Eyes:
+My Lamb was with gay Garlands dress'd,
+  The Pile prepar'd to burn;
+Hoping that if the God appeas'd,
+My _Damon_ might return.
+
+But oh! in vain he's gone, he's gone,
+  _Phillis_ he can't be thine;
+I by Obedience am undone,
+  Was ever Fate like mine:
+_Olinda_ do, try all thy Charms,
+  Yet I will have a part;
+For whilst you have him in your Arms,
+  I'll have him in my Heart.
+
+
+
+
+_The Apparition to the Jilted Lover. Set by Mr._ WROTH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Think wretched Mortal, think no more,
+  How to prolong thy Breath:
+For thee there are no Joys in store,
+  But in a welcome Death:
+Then seek to lay thee under Ground,
+  The Grave cures all Despair;
+And healeth every bitter Wound,
+  Giv'n by th' ungrateful Fair.
+
+How cou'dst thou Faith in Woman think,
+  Women are _Syrens_ all;
+And when Men in Loves Ocean sink,
+  Take Pride to see 'em fall:
+Women were never real yet,
+  But always truth despise:
+Constant to nothing but Deceit,
+  False Oaths and flattering Lies.
+
+Ah! _Coridon_ bid Life adieu,
+  The Gods will thee prefer;
+Their Gates are open'd wide for you,
+  But bolted against her:
+Do thou be true, you vow'd to Love,
+  _Phillis_ or Death you'll have;
+Now since the Nymph doth perjured prove,
+  Be just unto the Grave.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Heaven first created Woman to be Kind,
+  Both to be belov'd, and for to Love;
+If you contradict what Heav'n has design'd,
+  You'll be contemn'd by all the Pow'rs above:
+Then no more dispute me, for I am rashly bent,
+  To subject your Beauty
+  To kind Nature's Duty,
+Let me than salute you by Consent.
+
+Arguments and fair Intreats did I use,
+  But with her Consent could not prevail;
+She the Blessing modestly would still refuse,
+  Seeming for to slight my amorous Tale:
+Sometimes she would cry Sir, prithee Dear be good,
+  Oh Sir, pray Sir, why Sir?
+  Pray now, nay now, fye Sir,
+I would sooner die Sir, than be rude.
+
+I began to treat her then another way,
+  Modestly I melted with a Kiss;
+She then blushing look'd like the rising Day,
+  Fitting for me to attempt the Bliss:
+I gave her a fall Sir, she began to tear,
+  Crying she would call Sir,
+  As loud as she could baul Sir,
+But is prov'd as false, Sir, as she's Fair.
+
+
+
+
+RALPH'S _going to the Wars._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+To the Wars I must alass,
+  Though I do not like the Game,
+For I hold him to be an Ass,
+  That will lose his Life for Fame:
+_For these Guns are such pestilent things,
+  To pat a Pellet in ones Brow;
+Four vurlongs off ch've heard zome zay,
+  Ch'ill kill a Man he knows not how._
+
+When the Bow, Bill, Zword and Dagger,
+  Were us'd all in vighting;
+Ch've heard my Father swear and swagger,
+  That it was but a Flea-biting:
+_But these Guns_, &c.
+
+Ise would vight with the best of our Parish,
+  And play at Whisters with _Mary_;
+Cou'd thump the Vootball, yerk the Morrie,
+  And box at Visticuffs with any:
+_But these Guns_, &c.
+
+Varewel _Dick_, _Tom_, _Ralph_ and _Hugh_,
+  My Maypoles make all heretofore;
+Varewel _Doll_, _Kate_, _Zis_ and _Zue_,
+  For I shall never zee you more:
+_For these Guns are such pestilent things,
+  To pat a Pellet in ones Brow;
+Four vurlongs off ch've heard zome zay,
+  Ch'ill kill a Man he knows not how._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in Praise of Punch._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come fill up the Bowl with the Liquor that fine is,
+  And much more Divine is,
+Than now a-days Wine is, with all their Art,
+  None here can controul:
+The Vintner despising, tho' Brandy be rising,
+  'Tis Punch that must chear the Heart:
+The Lovers complaining, 'twill cure in a trice,
+And _Caelia_ disdaining, shall cease to be nice,
+  _Come fill up the Bowl_, &c.
+
+Thus soon you'll discover, the cheat of each Lover,
+When free from all Care you'll quickly find,
+As Nature intended 'em willing and kind:
+  _Come fill up the Bowl_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Bonny _Peggy Ramsey_ that any Man may see,
+And bonny was her Face, with a fair freckel'd Eye,
+Neat is her Body made, and she hath good Skill,
+And square is her Wethergig made like a Mill:
+  _With a hey trolodel, hey trolodel, hey trolodel lill,_
+  _Bonny_ Peggy Ramsey _she gives weel her Mill._
+
+_Peggy_ to the Mill is gone to grind a Bowl of Mault,
+The Mill it wanted Water, and was not that a fault;
+Up she pull'd her Petticoats and piss'd into the Dam,
+For six Days and seven Nights she made the Mill to gang;
+  _With a hey_, &c.
+
+Some call her _Peggy_, and some call her _Jean_,
+But some calls her Midsummer, but they all are mista'en;
+For _Peggy_ is a bonny Lass, and grinds well her Mill,
+For she will be Occupied when others they lay still:
+  _With a hey_, &c.
+
+_Peg_, thee and Ise grin a poke, and we to War will leanes,
+Ise lay thee flat upon thy Back and then lay to the steanes;
+Ise make hopper titter totter, haud the Mouth as still,
+When twa sit, and eane stand, merrily grind the Mill:
+  _With a hey_, &c.
+
+Up goes the Clap, and in goes the Corn,
+Betwixt twa rough steans _Peggy_ not to learn;
+With a Dam full of Water that she holdeth still,
+To pour upon the Clap for burning of the Mill:
+  _With a hey_, &c.
+
+Up she pull'd the Dam sure and let the Water in,
+The Wheel went about, and the Mill began to grind:
+The spindle it was hardy, and the steanes were they well pickt,
+And the Meal fell in the Mill Trough, and ye may all come lick:
+  _With a hey trolodel, hey trolodel, hey trolodel lill,_
+  _Bonny_ Peggy Ramsey _she gives weel her Mill._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Writ by the Famous Mr._ NAT. LEE.
+
+_Philander_ and _Sylvia_, a gentle soft Pair,
+Whose business was loving, and kissing their Care;
+In a sweet smelling Grove went smiling along,
+'Till the Youth gave a vent to his Heart with his Tongue:
+Ah _Sylvia_! said he, (and sigh'd when he spoke)
+Your cruel resolves will you never revoke?
+No never, she said, how never, he cry'd,
+'Tis the Damn'd that shall only that Sentence abide.
+
+She turn'd her about to look all around,
+Then blush'd, and her pretty Eyes cast on the Ground;
+She kiss'd his warm Cheeks, then play'd with his Neck,
+And urg'd that his Reason his Passion would check:
+Ah _Philander_! she said, 'tis a dangerous Bliss,
+Ah! never ask more and I'll give thee a Kiss;
+How never? he cry'd, then shiver'd all o'er,
+No never, she said, then tripp'd to a Bower.
+
+She stopp'd at the Wicket, he cry'd let me in,
+She answer'd, I wou'd if it were not a sin;
+Heav'n sees, and the Gods will chastise the poor Head
+Of _Philander_ for this; straight Trembling he said,
+Heav'n sees, I confess, but no Tell-tales are there,
+She kiss'd him and cry'd, you're an Atheist my Dear;
+And shou'd you prove false I should never endure:
+How never? he cry'd, and straight down he threw her.
+
+Her delicate Body he clasp'd in his Arms,
+He kiss'd her, he press'd her, heap'd charms upon charms;
+He cry'd shall I now? no never, she said,
+Your Will you shall never enjoy till I'm dead:
+Then as if she were dead, she slept and lay still,
+Yet even in Death bequeath'd him a smile:
+Which embolden'd the Youth his Charms to apply,
+Which he bore still about him to cure those that die.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Your Hay it is mow'd, and your Corn is reap'd,
+Your Barns will be full, and your Hovels heap'd;
+    Come, my Boys come,
+    Come, my Boys come,
+And merrily roar our Harvest home:
+    Harvest home,
+    Harvest home,
+And merrily roar our Harvest home.
+  _Come, my Boys come_, &c.
+
+We ha' cheated the Parson, we'll cheat him agen,
+For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten:
+    One in Ten,
+    One in Ten,
+For why should a Blockhead ha' One in Ten,
+  _One in Ten_, &c.
+
+For prating too long, like a Book learnt Sot,
+'Till Pudding and Dumpling are burnt to Pot:
+    Burnt to Pot,
+    Burnt to Pot,
+'Till Pudding and Dumpling are burnt to Pot.
+  _Burnt to Pot_, &c.
+
+We'll toss off our Ale till we cannot stand,
+And hey for the Honour of old _England_;
+    Old _England_,
+    Old _England_,
+And hey for the Honour of old _England_,
+  _Old_ England, _&c._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I prithee send me back my Heart,
+  Since I cannot have thine:
+For if from yours you will not part,
+  Why then should you have mine.
+
+Yet now I think on't, let it be,
+  To send it me is vain;
+Thou hast a Thief in either Eye,
+  Will steal it back again.
+
+Why should two Hearts in one Breast be,
+  And yet not be together;
+Or Love, where is thy Sympathy,
+  If thou our Hearts do sever?
+
+But Love is such a Mystery,
+  I cannot find it out;
+For when I think I am best resolv'd,
+  Then I am most in Doubt.
+
+Then farewel Care, then farewel Woe,
+  I will no longer pine;
+But I'll believe I have her Heart,
+  As well as she hath mine.
+
+
+
+
+BACCHUS _turn'd Doctor. The Words by_ BEN. JOHNSON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Let Soldiers fight for Pay and Praise,
+  And Money be Misers wish;
+Poor Scholars study all their Days,
+  And Gluttons glory in their Dish:
+    _'Tis Wine, pure Wine, revives sad Souls,_
+    _Therefore give us chearing Bowls._
+
+Let Minions marshal in their Hair,
+  And in a Lover's lock delight;
+And artificial Colours wear,
+  We have the Native Red and White.
+    _'Tis Wine_, &c.
+
+Your Pheasant, Pout, and Culver Salmon,
+  And how to please your Palates think:
+Give us a salt _Westphalia-Gammon_,
+  Not Meat to eat, but Meat to drink.
+    _'Tis Wine_, &c.
+
+It makes the backward Spirits brave,
+  That lively, that before was dull;
+Those grow good Fellows that are grave,
+  And kindness flows from Cups brim full,
+    _'Tis Wine_, &c.
+
+Some have the Ptysick, some the Rhume,
+  Some have the Palsie, some the Gout;
+Some swell with Fat, and some consume,
+  But they are sound that drink all out.
+    _'Tis Wine_, &c.
+
+Some Men want Youth, and some want Health,
+  Some want a Wife, and some a Punk;
+Some Men want Wit, and some want Wealth,
+  But he wants nothing that is drunk.
+    _'Tis Wine, pure Wine, revives sad Souls,_
+    _Therefore give us chearing Bowls._
+
+
+
+
+JENNY _making Hay._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Poor _Jenny_ and I we toiled,
+  In a long Summer's Day;
+Till we were almost foiled,
+  With making of the Hay;
+Her Kerchief was of Holland clear,
+  Bound low upon her Brow;
+Ise whisper'd something in her Ear,
+  _But what's that to you?_
+
+Her Stockings were of Kersey green,
+  Well stitcht with yellow Silk;
+Oh! sike a Leg was never seen,
+  Her Skin as white as Milk:
+Her Hair as black as any Crow,
+  And sweet her Mouth was too;
+Oh _Jenny_ daintily can mow,
+  _But_, &c.
+
+Her Petticoats were not so low,
+  As Ladies they do wear them;
+She needed not a Page I trow,
+  For I was by to bear them:
+Ise took them up all in my Hand,
+  And I think her Linnen too;
+Which made me for to make a stand;
+  _But_, &c.
+
+King _Solomon_ had Wives enough,
+  And Concubines a Number;
+Yet Ise possess more happiness,
+  And he had more of Cumber;
+My Joys surmount a wedded Life,
+  With fear she lets me mow her;
+A Wench is better than a Wife,
+  _But_, &c.
+
+The Lilly and the Rose combine,
+  To make my _Jenny_ fair;
+There's no Contentment sike as mine;
+  I'm almost void of Care:
+But yet I fear my _Jenny's_ Face,
+  Will cause more Men to woe;
+Which if she should, as I do fear,
+  _Still, what is that to you?_
+
+
+
+
+_The Knotting_ SONG. _The Words by Sir_ CHARLES SYDNEY.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Hears not my _Phillis_ how the Birds,
+  Their feather'd Mates salute:
+They tell their Passion in their Words,
+  Must I alone, must I alone be mute:
+Phillis _without a frown or smile,_
+_Sat & knotted, & knotted, & knotted, and knotted all the while._
+
+The God of Love in thy bright Eyes,
+  Does like a Tyrant Reign;
+But in thy Heart a Child he lies,
+  Without a Dart or Flame.
+_Phillis_, &c.
+
+So many Months in silence past,
+  And yet in raging Love;
+Might well deserve one word at last,
+  My Passion should approve.
+_Phillis_, &c.
+
+Must then your faithful Swain expire,
+  And not one look obtain;
+Which to sooth his fond desire,
+  Might pleasingly explain.
+_Phillis_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ FRENCH KING _in a foaming Passion for the loss of his Potent
+Army in the_ NETHERLANDS, _which were Routed by his Grace the Duke of_
+MARLBOROUGH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Old _Lewis le Grand_,
+  He raves like a Fury,
+  And calls for _Mercury_;
+Quoth he, if I can,
+  I'll finish my Days;
+For why should I live?
+Since the Fates will not give
+  One affable smile:
+Great _Marlborough_ Conquers,
+Great _Marlborough_ Conquers,
+  I'm ruin'd the while.
+
+The Flower of _France_,
+  And Troops of my Palace
+  Which march'd from _Versales_
+Who vow'd to Advance,
+  With Conquering Sword,
+Are cut, hack'd and hew'd,
+I well may conclude,
+  They're most of them Slain:
+Oh! what will become of,
+Oh! what will become of,
+  My Grand-Son in _Spain_.
+
+My fortify'd Throne,
+  Propt up by Oppression,
+  Must yield at Discretion,
+For needs must I own,
+  My Glory decays:
+Bold _Marlborough_ comes
+With ratling Drums,
+  And thundering Shot,
+He drives all before him,
+He drives all before him,
+  Oh! Where am I got?
+
+He pushes for Crowns,
+  And slays my Commanders,
+  And Forces in _Flanders_;
+Great Capital Towns,
+  For _CHARLES_ has declar'd:
+These things like a Dart,
+Has pierced my Heart,
+  And threatens my Death;
+Here do I lye sighing,
+Here do I lye sighing,
+  And Panting for Breath.
+
+This passionate Grief,
+  Draws on my Diseases,
+  Which fatally ceases
+My Spirits in chief,
+  A fit of the Gout,
+The Gravel and Stone,
+I have 'tis well known,
+  At this horrid News,
+Of _Marlborough's_ Triumph,
+Of _Marlborough's_ Triumph,
+  All Battles I lose.
+
+Wherever he comes,
+  He is bold and Victorious,
+  Successful and glorious,
+My two Royal Thumbs
+  With anguish I bite:
+To hear his Success;
+Yet nevertheless,
+  My passion's in vain:
+I pity my Darling,
+I pity my Darling,
+  Young _Philip_ in _Spain_.
+
+I am out of my Wits,
+  If e'er I had any;
+  My Foes they are many,
+Which plagues me by fits,
+  In _Flanders_ and _Spain_:
+I'm sick at my Heart,
+To think we must part,
+  With what we enjoy'd,
+Towns, Castles, are taken,
+Towns, Castles, are taken,
+  My Troops are destroy'd.
+
+I am I declare,
+  In a weak Condition,
+  Go call my Physician,
+And let him prepare
+  Some comfort with speed,
+Without all delay,
+Assist me I pray,
+  And hear my Complaint,
+A Dram of the Bottle,
+A Dram of the Bottle,
+  Or else I shall faint.
+
+Should I slip my Breath,
+  At this dreadful Season,
+  I think it but Reason,
+I should lay my Death,
+  To the daring Foes,
+Whose Fire and Smoak,
+Has certainly broke,
+  The Heart in my Breast:
+Oh! bring me a Cordial,
+Oh! bring me a Cordial,
+  And lay me to Rest.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Captain_ PACK.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Would you be a Man in Fashion?
+  Would you lead a Life Divine?
+Take a little Dram of Passion, (a little dram of Passion)
+  In a lusty Dose of Wine
+If the Nymph has no Compassion,
+  Vain it is to sigh and groan:
+Love was but put in for Fashion,
+  Wine will do the Work alone.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ THO. FARMER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Though the Pride of my Passion fair _Sylvia_ betrays,
+  And frowns at the Love I impart;
+Though kindly her Eyes twist amorous Rays,
+  To tye a more fortunate Heart:
+Yet her Charms are so great, I'll be bold in my Pain,
+    His Heart is too tender,
+Too tender, that's struck with Disdain.
+
+Still my Heart is so just to my Passionate Eyes,
+  It dissolves with Delight while I gaze:
+And he that loves on, though _Sylvia_ denies,
+  His Love but his Duty obeys:
+I no more can refrain her neglects to pursue,
+    Than the force, the force
+Of her Beauty can cease to subdue.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When first I fair _Celinda_ knew,
+  Her Kindness then was great:
+Her Eyes I cou'd with Pleasure view,
+  And friendly Rays did meet:
+In all Delights we past the time,
+  That could Diversion move;
+She oft would kindly hear me Rhime
+  Upon some others Love:
+_She oft would kindly hear me Rhime,_
+  _Upon some others Love._
+
+But ah! at last I grew too bold,
+  Prest by my growing Flame;
+For when my Passion I had told,
+  She hated ev'n my Name:
+Thus I that cou'd her Friendship boast,
+  And did her Love pursue;
+And taught Contentment at the cost,
+  Of Love and Friendship too.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ FISHBURNE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Long had _Damon_ been admir'd,
+  By the Beauties of the Plain;
+Ev'ry Breast warm Love inspir'd,
+  For the proper handsome Swain:
+The choicest Nymph _Sicilia_ bred,
+  Was won by his resistless Charms:
+Soft Looks, and Verse as smooth, had led
+  And left the Captive in his Arms.
+
+But our _Damon's_ Soul aspires,
+  To a Goddess of his Race;
+Though he sues with chaster Fires,
+  This his Glories does deface:
+The fatal News no sooner blown
+  In Whispers up the Chesnut Row;
+The God _Sylvanus_ with a Frown,
+  Blasts all the Lawrels on his Brow.
+
+Swains be wise, and check desire
+  In it's soaring, when you'll woe:
+_Damon_ may in Love require
+  _Thestyles_ and _Laura_ too:
+When Shepherds too ambitious are,
+  And Court _Astrea_ on a Throne;
+Like to the shooting of a Star,
+  They fall, and thus their shining's gone.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ FISHBURN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Pretty _Floramel_, no Tongue can ever tell,
+  The Charms that in thee dwell;
+      Those Soul-melting Pleasures,
+Shou'd the mighty _Jove_ once view, he'd be in Love,
+And plunder all above,
+      To rain down his Treasure:
+Ah! said the Nymph in the Shepherd's Arms,
+Had you half so much Love as you say I have Charms;
+  There's not a Soul, created for Man and Love,
+  More true than _Floramel_ wou'd prove,
+  I'd o'er the World with thee rove.
+
+Love that's truly free, had never Jealousie,
+  But artful Love may be
+      Both doubtful and wooing;
+Ah! dear Shepherdess, ne'er doubt, for you may guess,
+My Heart will prove no less,
+      Than ever endless loving:
+Then cries the Nymph, like the Sun thou shalt be,
+And I, like kind Earth, will produce all to thee;
+  Of ev'ry Flower in Love's Garden I'll Off'rings pay
+  To my Saint. Nay then pray
+  Take not those dear Eyes away.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ ROBERT KING.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+By shady Woods and purling Streams,
+I spend my Life in pleasing Dreams;
+And would not for the World be thought
+To change my false delightful Thought:
+For who, alas! can happy be,
+That does the Truth of all things see?
+_For who, alas! can happy be,_
+_That does the Truth of all things see._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Sett by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In _Chloris_ all soft Charms agree,
+  Enchanting Humour pow'rful Wit;
+Beauty from Affectation free,
+  And for Eternal Empire fit:
+Where-e'er she goes, Love waits her Eyes,
+  The Women Envy, Men adore;
+Tho' did she less the Triumph Prize,
+  She wou'd deserve the Conquest more.
+
+But Vanity so much prevails,
+  She begs what else none can deny her;
+And with inviting treach'rous Smiles
+  Gives hopes which ev'n prevent desire:
+Reaches at every trifling Heart,
+  Grows warm with ev'ry glimm'ring Flame:
+And common Prey so deads her Dart,
+  It scarce can wound a noble Game.
+
+I could lye Ages at her Feet,
+  Adore her careless of my Pain;
+With tender Vows her Rigour meet,
+  Despair, love on, and not complain:
+My Passion from all change secur'd,
+  Favours may rise, no Frown controuls;
+I any Torment can endure,
+  But hoping with a crowd of Fools.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ THO. FARMER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When busie Fame o'er all the Plain,
+  _Velinda's_ Praises rung;
+And on their Oaten Pipes each Swain
+  Her matchless Beauty sung:
+The Envious Nymphs were forc'd to yield
+  She had the sweetest Face;
+No emulous disputes were held,
+  But for the second place.
+
+Young _Coridon_, whose stubborn Heart
+  No Beauty e'er could move;
+But smil'd at _Cupid's_ Bow and Dart,
+  And brav'd the God of Love:
+Would view this Nymph, and pleas'd at first,
+  Such silent Charms to see:
+With Wonder gaz'd, then sigh'd, and curs'd
+  His Curiosity.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FISHBURNE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Why am I the only Creature,
+  Must a ruin'd Love pursue;
+Other Passions yield to Nature,
+  Mine there's nothing can subdue:
+Not the Glory of Possessing,
+  Monarch wishes gave me ease,
+More and more the mighty Blessings
+  Did my raging Pains encrease.
+
+Nor could Jealousie relieve me,
+  Tho' it ever waited near;
+Cloath'd in gawdy Pow'r to grieve me,
+  Still the Monster would appear:
+That, nor Time, nor Absence neither,
+  Nor Despair removes my Pain;
+I endure them all together,
+  Yet my Torments still remain.
+
+Had alone her matchless beauty,
+  Set my amorous Heart on Fire,
+Age at last would do its Duty,
+  Fuel ceasing, Flames expire.
+But her Mind immortal grows,
+  Makes my Love immortal too;
+Nature ne'er created Faces,
+  Can the Charms of Souls undoe.
+
+And to make my Loss the greater,
+  She laments it as her own;
+Could she scorn me, I might hate her,
+  But alas! she shews me none:
+Then since Fortune is my Ruin,
+  In Retirement I'll Complain;
+And in rage for my undoing,
+  Ne'er come in its Power again.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Laurinda_, who did love Disdain,
+For whom had languish'd many a Swain:
+Leading her bleating Flocks to drink,
+She 'spy'd upon a River's brink
+A Youth, whose Eyes did well declare,
+How much he lov'd, but lov'd not her.
+
+At first she laugh'd, but gaz'd a while,
+Which soon it lessen'd to a smile;
+Thence to Surprize and Wonder came,
+Her Breast to heave, her Heart to flame:
+Then cry'd she out, Ah! now I prove
+Thou art a God most mighty _Jove_.
+
+She would have spoke, but shame deny'd,
+And bid her first consult her Pride;
+But soon she found that aid was gone,
+For _Jove_, alass! had left her none:
+Ah! now she burns! but 'tis too late,
+For in his Eyes she reads her Fate.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Fair _Caelia_ too fondly contemns those Delights,
+Wherewith gentle Nature hath soften'd the Nights;
+If she be so kind to present us with Pow'r,
+The Fault is our own to neglect the good Hour:
+Who gave thee this Beauty, ordain'd thou should'st be,
+As kind to thy Slaves, as the Gods were to thee.
+
+Then _Caelia_ no longer reserve the vain Pride,
+Of wronging thy self, to see others deny'd;
+If Love be a Pleasure, alass! you will find,
+We both are not happy, when both are most kind:
+But Women, like Priests, do in others reprove,
+And call that thing Lust, which in them is but Love.
+
+What they thro' their Madness and Folly create,
+We poor silly Slaves still impute to our Fate;
+But in such Distempers where Love is the Grief,
+'Tis _Caelia_, not Heaven, must give us Relief:
+Then away with those Titles of Honour and Cause,
+Which first made us sin, by giving us Laws.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ WILLIAM TURNER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I Lik'd, but never Lov'd before
+  I saw that charming Face;
+Now every Feature I adore,
+  And doat on ev'ry Grace:
+She ne'er shall know that kind desire,
+  Which her cold Looks denies,
+Unless my Heart that's all on Fire,
+  Should sparkle through my Eyes:
+Then if no gentle Glance return,
+  A silent Leave to speak;
+My Heart which would for ever burn,
+  Alass! must sigh and break.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in_ Valentinian.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Where would coy _Amyntas_ run,
+  From a despairing Lover's Story?
+When her Eyes have Conquest won,
+  Why should her Ear refuse the Glory:
+Shall a Slave, whose Racks constrain,
+Be forbidden to complain;
+Let her scorn me, let her Fly me,
+Let her Looks, her Love deny me:
+Ne'er shall my Heart yield to despair,
+Or my Tongue cease to tell my Care,
+Or my Tongue cease to tell my Care:
+Much to love, and much to pray,
+Is to Heav'n the only way.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Pelham Humphreys.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+  A Wife I do hate,
+For either she's False, or she's Jealous;
+  But give me a Mate,
+Who nothing will ask us or tell us:
+  She stands at no Terms,
+Nor Chaffers by way of Indenture:
+  Or Loves for the Farms,
+But takes the kind Man at a Venture.
+
+  If all prove not right,
+Without an Act, Process or Warning,
+  From Wife for a Night,
+You may be divorc'd the next Morning,
+  Where Parents are Slaves,
+Their Brats can't be any other;
+  Great Wits and great Braves,
+Have always a Punk to their Mother.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Tell me ye _Sicilian_ Swains,
+Why this Mourning's o'er your Plains;
+    Where's your usual Melody?
+Why are all your Shepherds mad,
+And your Shepherdesses sad?
+    What can the mighty meaning be?
+  _Chorus._ _Sylvia_ the Glory of our Plains;
+  _Sylvia_ the Love of all our Swains;
+    That blest us with her Smiles:
+Where ev'ry Shepherd had a Heart,
+And ev'ry Shepherdess a Part;
+    Slights our Gods, and leaves our Isle,
+    Slights our Gods, and leaves our Isle.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When gay _Philander_ left the Plain,
+The Love, the Life of ev'ry Swain;
+His Pipe the mournful _Strephon_ took,
+By some sad Bank and murm'ring Brook:
+Whilst list'ning Flocks forsook their Food,
+And Melancholy by him stood;
+On the cold Ground himself he laid,
+And thus the Mournful Shepherd play'd.
+
+Farewel to all that's bright and gay,
+No more glad Night and chearing Day;
+No more the Sun will gild our Plain,
+'Till the lost Youth return again:
+Then every pensive Heart that now,
+With Mournful Willow shades his Brow;
+Shall crown'd with chearful Garlands sing,
+And all shall seem Eternal Spring.
+
+Say, mighty _Pan_, if you did know,
+Say all ye rural Gods below;
+'Mongst all Youths that grac'd your Plain,
+So gay so beautiful a Swain:
+In whose sweet Air and charming Voice,
+Our list'ning Swains did all Rejoyce;
+Him only, O ye Gods! restore
+Your Nymphs, and Shepherds ask no more.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ THO. KINGSLEY.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How Happy's the Mortal whose Heart is his own,
+And for his own Quiet's beholden to none,
+        (_Eccho._ Beholden to none, to none;)
+That to Love's Enchantments ne'er lendeth an Ear,
+Which a Frown or a Smile can equally bear,
+        (_Eccho._ Can equally bear, can bear,)
+Nor on ev'ry frail Beauty still fixes an Eye,
+But from those sly Felons doth prudently fly,
+        (_Eccho._ Doth prudently, prudently fly, doth fly;)
+For the Heart that still wanders is pounded at last,
+And 'tis hard to relieve it when once it is fast,
+        (_Eccho._ When once it is fast, is fast.)
+
+By sporting with Dangers still longer and longer,
+The Fetters and Chains of the Captive grows stronger;
+He drills on his Evil, then curses his Fate,
+And bewails those Misfortunes himself did create:
+Like an empty Camelion he lives on the Air,
+And all the Day lingers 'twixt Hope and Despair;
+Like a Fly in the Candle he sports and he Games,
+'Till a Victim in Folly, he dies in the Flames.
+
+If Love, so much talk'd of, a Heresie be,
+Of all it enslaves few true Converts we see;
+If hectoring and huffing would once do the Feat,
+There's few that would fail of a Vict'ry Compleat;
+But with Gain to come off, and the Tyrant subdue,
+Is an Art that is hitherto practis'd by few;
+How easie is Freedom once had to maintain,
+But Liberty lost is as hard to regain.
+
+This driv'ling and sniv'ling, and chiming in Parts,
+This wining and pining, and breaking of Hearts;
+All pensive and silent in Corners to sit,
+Are pretty fine Pastimes for those that want Wit:
+When this Passion and Fashion doth so far abuse 'em,
+It were good the State should for Pendulums use 'em;
+For if Reason it seize on, and make it give o'er,
+No Labour can save, or reliev't any more.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Henry Purcell.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A Thousand several ways I try'd,
+  To hide my Passion from your view;
+Conscious that I should be deny'd,
+  Because I cannot Merit you:
+Absence, the last and worst of all,
+  Did so encrease my wretched Pain,
+That I return'd, rather to fall
+  By the swift Fate, by the swift Fate of your Disdain.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+To the Grove, gentle Love, let us be going,
+Where the kind Spring and Wind all Day are Woing;
+He with soft sighing Blasts strives to o'er-take her,
+She would not tho' she flies, have him forsake her,
+But in circling Rings returning,
+And in purling Whispers Mourning;
+She swells and pants, as if she'd say,
+Fain I would, but dare not stay.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ FISHBURN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Tell me no more of Flames in Love,
+  That common dull pretence,
+Fools in Romances use to move
+  Soft Hearts of little Sense:
+No, _Strephon_, I'm not such a Slave,
+  Love's banish'd Power to own;
+Since Interest and Convenience have
+  So long usurp'd his Throne.
+
+No burning Hope or cold Despair,
+  Dull Groves or purling Streams,
+Sighing and talking to the Air
+  In Love's fantastick Dreams,
+Can move my Pity or my Hate,
+  But Satyrist I'll prove,
+And all ridiculous create
+  That shall pretend to Love.
+
+Love was a Monarch once, 'tis true,
+  And God-like rul'd alone,
+And tho' his Subjects were but few,
+  Their Hearts were all his own;
+But since the Slaves revolted are,
+  And turn'd into a State,
+Their Int'rest is their only Care,
+  And Love grows out of Date.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ FISHBURN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Wealth breeds Care, Love, Hope and Fear;
+What does Love our Business hear?
+While _Bacchus_ merry does appear,
+  Fight on and fear no sinking,
+Charge it briskly to the Brim,
+'Till the flying Top-sails swim,
+We owe the great Discovery to him
+  Of this new World of Drinking.
+
+Grave Cabals that States refine,
+Mingle their Debates with Wine;
+_Ceres_ and the God o'th' Wine;
+  Makes every great Commander.
+Let sober Sots Small-beer subdue,
+The Wise and valiant Wine does woe;
+The _Stagyrite_ had the honour to
+  Be drunk with _Alexander_.
+
+Stand to your Arms, and now Advance
+A Health to the _English_ King of _France_;
+On to the next a _bon Speranze_,
+  By _Bacchus_ and _Apollo_.
+Thus in State I lead the Van,
+Fall in your Place by your right-hand Man,
+Beat Drum! now March! Dub a dub, ran dan,
+  He's a _Whig_ that will not follow.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Fishburn.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Tho' Fortune and Love may be Deities still,
+  To those they Oblige by their Pow'r;
+For my Part, they ever have us'd me so ill,
+  They cannot expect I'll adore:
+Hereafter a Temple to Friendship I'll raise,
+And dedicate there all the rest of my Days,
+  To the Goddess accepted my Vows,
+  _To the Goddess accepted my Vows_.
+
+Thou perfectest Image of all things Divine,
+  Bright Center of endless Desires,
+May the Glory be yours, and the Services mine,
+  When I light at your Altars the Fires.
+I offer a Heart has Devotion so pure,
+It would for your Service all Torments endure,
+  Might you but have all things you wish,
+  _Might you_, &c.
+
+But yet the Goddess of Fools to despise,
+  I find I'm too much in her Power;
+She makes me go where 'tis in vain to be wise,
+  In absence of her I adore:
+If Love then undoes me before I get back,
+I still with resignment receive the Attack,
+  Or languish away in Despair,
+  _Or languish_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ Henry Purcell.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+He himself courts his own Ruin,
+  That with too great Passion sues 'em:
+When Men Whine too much in Wooing,
+  Women with like Coquets use 'em:
+Some by this way of addressing
+  Have the Sex so far transported,
+That they'll fool away the Blessing
+  For the Pride of being Courted.
+
+Jilt and smile when we adore 'em,
+  While some Blockhead buys the Favour;
+Presents have more Power o'er 'em
+  Than all our soft Love and Labour,
+Thus, like Zealots, with screw'd Faces,
+  We our fooling make the greater,
+While we cant long winded Graces,
+  Others they fall to the Creature.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ DAMASENE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Cease lovely _Strephon_, cease to charm;
+  Useless, alas! is all this Art;
+It's needless you should strongly arm,
+  To take a too, too willing Heart:
+I hid my weakness all I could,
+  And chid my pratling tell-tale Eyes,
+For fear the easie Conquest should
+  Take from the value of the Prize.
+
+But oh! th' unruly Passion grew
+  So fast, it could not be conceal'd,
+And soon, alas! I found to you
+  I must without Conditions yield,
+Tho' you have thus surpriz'd my Heart,
+  Yet use it kindly, for you know,
+It's not a gallant Victor's part
+  To insult o'er a vanquish'd Foe.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ DAMASENE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+You happy Youths, whose Hearts are free
+  From Love's Imperial Chain,
+Henceforth be warn'd and taught by me,
+  And taught by me to avoid inchanting Pain,
+Fatal the Wolves to trembling Flocks,
+  Sharp Winds to Blossoms prove:
+To careless Seamen, hidden Rocks;
+  To human quiet Love.
+
+Fly the Fair-Sex, if Bliss you prize,
+  The Snake's beneath the Flow'r:
+Whoever gaz'd on Beauties Eyes,
+  That tasted Quiet more?
+The Kind with restless Jealousie,
+  The Cruel fill with Care;
+With baser Falshood those betray,
+  These kill us with Despair.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Dr._ STAGGINS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When first _Amyntas_ charm'd my Heart,
+  The heedless Sheep began to stray;
+The Wolves soon stole the greatest part,
+  And all will now be made a Prey:
+Ah! let not Love your Thoughts possess,
+'Tis fatal to a Shepherdess;
+  The dangerous Passion you must shun,
+  Or else like me, be quite undone.
+
+
+
+
+A SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ RICHARD CROONE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How happy and free is the resolute Swain,
+  That denies to submit to the Yoak of the Fair;
+Free from Excesses of Pleasure and Pain,
+  Neither dazl'd with Hope, nor deprest with Despair.
+He's safe from Disturbance, and calmly enjoys
+All the Pleasures of Love, without Clamour and Noise.
+
+Poor Shepherds in vain their Affections reveal,
+  To a Nymph that is peevish, proud sullen and coy;
+Vainly do Virgins their Passions conceal,
+  For they boil in their Grief, 'till themselves they destroy,
+And thus the poor Darling lies under a Curse:
+To be check'd in the Womb, or o'erlaid by the Nurse.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Sung by Mrs._ Cross _in the_ Mock-Astrologer, _Set by Mr._ RAMONDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Why so pale and wan fond Lover?
+  Prithee, prithee, Prithee why so pale:
+Will, when looking well can't move her,
+  Looking Ill, looking ill prevail?
+Why so dull and mute young Sinner?
+  Prithee, prithee why so mute;
+Will, when speaking well can't win her,
+  Saying nothing, nothing do't?
+Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,
+  This cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot take her;
+If of her self she will not love,
+  Nothing can, nothing can make her,
+  The Devil, the Devil, the Devil, the Devil take her.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _occasioned by a Lady's wearing a Patch upon a becoming place
+on her Face. Set by Mr._ John Weldon.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+That little Patch upon your Face
+  Wou'd seem a Foil on one less Fair,
+Wou'd seem a Foil, wou'd seem a Foil,
+  Wou'd seem a Foil on one less Fair:
+On you it hides a charming Grace,
+  And you in Pity, you in Pity,
+  You in Pity plac'd it there;
+On you it hides a Charming Grace,
+  And you in Pity, you in Pity,
+  In Pity plac'd it there.
+_And you in Pity, Pity,_
+  _And you in Pity plac'd it there._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set and Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE _at the_ THEATER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Iris_ beware when _Strephon_ pursues you,
+  'Tis but to boast a Conquest won:
+All his Designs are aim'd to undo you,
+  Break off the Love he has begun:
+When he's Addressing, and prays for the Blessing,
+  Which none but his _Iris_ can give alone;
+O then beware, 'tis all to undo you,
+  'Tis but to boast a Conquest won:
+She that's believing, while he is deceiving,
+  Like many already, will be undone;
+_Iris_ beware when _Strephon_ pursues you,
+  'Tis but to boast a Conquest won.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ RAMONDON, _Sung at the_ Theatre.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How charming _Phillis_ is, how Fair,
+  How charming _Phillis_ is, how Fair,
+  O that she were as willing,
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,
+  And make her Eyes less killing;
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,
+  And make her Eyes less killing;
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,
+  And make her Eyes less killing;
+To ease my wounded Heart of Care,
+  And make her Eyes less killing.
+
+I Sigh, I Sigh, I Languish now,
+  And Love will not let me rest;
+I drive about the Park and Bow,
+  Where-e'er I meet my Dearest.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ ANTHONY YOUNG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Cease whining _Damon_ to Complain,
+  Of thy Unhappy Fate;
+That _Sylvia_ should thy Love disdain,
+  Which lasting was and great.
+
+For Love so constant flames so bright,
+  More unsuccessful prove:
+Than cold neglect and sudden slight,
+  To gain the Nymph you love.
+
+Then only you'll obtain the Prize,
+  When you her Coyness use;
+If you pursue the Fair, she flies,
+  But if you fly, pursues.
+
+Had _Phoebus_ not pursu'd so fast
+  The seeming cruel she;
+The God a Virgin had embrac'd,
+  And not a lifeless Tree.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the_ OPERA _call'd the_ BRITTISH ENCHANTERS. _Set by Mr._
+J. ECCLES.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Plague us not with idle Stories,
+  Whining Loves, whining Loves, whining Loves,
+        And Senceless Glories.
+  What are Lovers? what are Kings?
+  What, at best, but slavish Things?
+  What are Lovers? what are Kings?
+  What, at best, but slavish Things?
+  What, at best, but slavish Things?
+
+Free I liv'd as Nature made me,
+Love nor Beauty durst invade me,
+No rebellious Slaves betray'd me,
+Free I liv'd as Nature made me,
+Each by turns as Sence inspired me,
+_Bacchus_, _Ceres_, _Venus_ fir'd me,
+I alone have learnt true Pleasure,
+Freedom, Freedom, Freedom is the only, only Treasure.
+
+
+
+
+JUNO _in the Prize._
+
+_Set by Mr._ JOHN WELDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Let Ambition fire thy Mind,
+  Thou wert born o'er Men to Reign;
+Not to follow Flocks design'd,
+  Scorn thy Crook, and leave the Plain:
+Not to follow Flocks design'd,
+  Scorn thy Crook, and leave the Plain.
+
+Crowns I'll throw beneath thy Feet,
+  Thou on Necks of Kings shalt tread,
+Joys in Circles, Joys shall meet,
+  Which way e're thy fancy leads.
+
+
+
+
+_The Beau's Character in the Comedy call'd_ Hampstead-Heath. _Set and
+Sung by Mr._ Ramondon.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+      A Whig that's full,
+      An empty Scull,
+A Box of _Burgamot_;
+      A Hat ne'er made
+      To fit his Head
+No more than that to Plot.
+      A Hand that's White,
+      A Ring that's right,
+A Sword, Knot, Patch and Feather;
+      A Gracious Smile,
+      And Grounds and Oyl,
+Do very well together.
+
+      A smatch of _French_,
+      And none of Sence,
+All Conquering Airs and Graces;
+      A Tune that Thrills,
+      A Lear that Kills,
+Stoln Flights and borrow'd Phrases.
+      A Chariot Gilt,
+      To wait on Jilt,
+An awkward Pace and Carriage;
+      A Foreign Tower,
+      Domestick Whore,
+And Mercenary Marriage.
+
+      A Limber Ham,
+      G---- D---- ye M'am,
+A Smock-Face, tho' a Tann'd one;
+      A Peaceful Sword,
+      Not one wise Word,
+But State and Prate at Random.
+      Duns, Bastards, Claps,
+      And Am'rous Scraps,
+Of _Caelia_ and _Amadis_;
+      Toss up a Beau,
+      That Grand Ragou,
+That Hodge-Podge for the Ladies.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the Innocent Mistress. Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _Sung by
+Mrs._ Hodgson.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When I languish'd and wish'd you wou'd something bestow,
+  You bad me to give it a Name;
+But by Heav'n I know it as little as you,
+  Tho' my Ignorance passes for Shame:
+You take for Devotion each passionate Glance,
+  And think the dull Fool is sincere;
+But never believe that I spake in Romance,
+  On purpose to tickle, on purpose, on purpose,
+  On purpose to tickle your Ear:
+To please me than more, think still I am true,
+And hug each Apocryphal Text;
+Tho' I practice a Thousand false Doctrines on you,
+  I shall still have enough, I shall still have enough,
+  Shall still have enough for the next.
+
+
+
+
+VENUS _to_ PARIS _in the Prize Musick. Set by Mr._ JOHN WELDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Hither turn thee, hither turn thee, hither turn thee gentle Swain,
+Hither turn thee, hither turn thee, hither turn thee gentle Swain,
+Let not _Venus_, let not _Venus_, let not _Venus_ sue in vain;
+_Venus_ rules, _Venus_ rules, _Venus_ rules the Gods above,
+Love rules them, Love rules them, Love rules them, and she rules Love?
+  _Venus_ rules the Gods above,
+Love rules them, Love rules them, Love rules them,
+Love rules them, Love rules them, and she rules Love.
+  Love rules them, and she rules Love.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_The Words by Mr._ WARD, _Set by Mr._ HARRIS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Belinda_! why do you distrust,
+  So faithful and so kind a Heart:
+Which cannot prove to you unjust,
+  But must it self endure the smart:
+No, no, no, no the wandring Stars,
+  Shall sooner cease their Motion;
+And Nature reconcile the Jars,
+  'Twixt _Boreas_ and the Ocean:
+The fixed Poles shall seem to move,
+  And ramble from their Places;
+E'er I'll from fair _Belinda_ rove,
+  Or slight her charming Graces.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ William Turner.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Long was the Day e're _Alexis_ my Lover,
+  To finish my Hopes would his Passion reveal;
+He could not speak, nor I could not discover,
+  What my poor aking Heart was so loath to conceal:
+Till the Strength of his Passion his Fear had remov'd,
+Then we mutually talk'd, and we mutually lov'd.
+
+Groves for Umbrella's did kindly o'er-shade us,
+  From _Phoebus_ hot rages, who like envy in strove;
+Had not kind Fate this Provision made us,
+  All the Nymphs of the Air would have envy'd our Love:
+But we stand below Envy that ill-natur'd Fate,
+And above cruel Scorn is happy Estate.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set to Musick by Mr._ John Eccles.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+As _Cupid_ roguishly one Day,
+Had all alone stole out to play;
+The _Muses_ caught the little, little, little Knave,
+And captive Love to Beauty gave:
+The _Muses_ caught the little, little, little Knave,
+And captive Love to Beauty gave:
+The laughing Dame soon miss'd her Son,
+And here and there, and here and there,
+  And here and there distracted run;
+Distracted run, and here and there,
+  And here and there, and here and there distracted run:
+And still his Liberty to gain, his Liberty to gain,
+  Offers his Ransom,
+But in vain, in vain, in vain;
+The willing, willing Prisoner still hugs his Chain,
+And Vows he'll ne'er be free,
+And Vows he'll ne'er be free,
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,
+No, no, no, no, no he'll ne'er be free again,
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,
+No, no, no, no, no he'll ne'er be free again.
+
+
+
+
+_Old_ SOLDIERS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Of old Soldiers, the Song you would hear,
+And we old Fidlers have forgot who they were,
+But all we remember shall come to your Ear,
+    _That we are old Soldiers of the Queens,_
+    _And the Queens old Soldiers._
+
+With the _Old Drake_, that was the next Man
+To _Old Franciscus_, who first it began,
+To sail through the Streights of _Magellan_,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+That put the proud _Spanish Armado_ to wrack,
+And Travell'd all o'er the old World, and came back,
+In his old Ship, laden with Gold and old Sack,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Cavendish_, that seconded him,
+And taught his old Sails the same Passage to swim,
+And did them therefore with Cloth of Gold Trim,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+Like an _Old Rawleigh_, that twice and again,
+Sailed over most part of the _Seas_, and then
+Travell'd all o'er the World with his Pen,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old John Norris_, the General,
+That at old _Gaunt_, made his Fame Immortal,
+In spight of his Foes, with no loss at all,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+Like _Old Brest Fort_, an invincible thing,
+When the old _Queen_ sent him to help the _French_ King,
+Took from the proud _Fox_, to the World's wond'ring,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+Where an old stout _Fryer_, as goes the Story,
+Came to push of Pike with him in Vain-glory,
+But he was almost sent to his own _Purgatory_,
+    _By this old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Ned Norris_, that kept _Ostend_,
+A terror to Foe, and a Refuge to Friend,
+And left it Impregnable to his last End,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+That in the old unfortunate Voyage of all,
+March'd o'er the old Bridge, and knock'd at the Wall,
+Of _Lisbon_, the Mistress of _Portugal_,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Tim Norris_, by the old _Queen_ sent,
+Of _Munster_ in _Ireland_, Lord President,
+Where his Days and his Blood in her service he spent,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Harry Norris_, in Battle wounded,
+In his Knee, whose Leg was cut off, and he said,
+You have spoil'd my Dancing, and dy'd in his Bed,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Will Norris_, the oldest of all,
+Who went voluntary, without any Call,
+To th' old _Irish_ Wars, to's Fame Immortal,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With an _Old Dick Wenman_, the first in his Prime,
+That over the Walls of old _Cales_ did Clime,
+And there was Knighted, and liv'd all his Time,
+    _Like an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With _Old Nando Wenman_, when _Brest_ was o'er thrown,
+Into the Air, into the Seas, with Gunpowder blown,
+Yet bravely recovering, long after was known,
+    _For an Old Soldier_, &c.
+
+When an _Old Tom Wenman_, whose bravest delight,
+Was in a good Cause for his Country to Fight,
+And dy'd in _Ireland_, a good old Knight,
+    _And an old Soldier_, &c.
+
+With a Young _Ned Wenman_, so valiant and bold,
+In the Wars of _Bohemia_, as with the Old,
+Deserves for his Valour to be Enroll'd,
+    _An old Soldier_, &c.
+
+And thus of Old Soldiers, ye hear the Fame,
+But ne'er so many of one House and Name,
+And all of old _John Lord Viscount_ of _Thame_,
+    _An old Soldier of the Queens,_
+    _And the Queens old Soldier._
+
+
+
+
+_On the Tombs in_ Westminster Abby.
+
+
+_You must suppose it to be_ Easter _Holy-Days: At what time_ Sisly
+_and_ Dol, Kate _and_ Peggy, Moll _and_ Nan, _are marching to_
+Westminster, _with a Leash of Prentices before 'em; who go rowing
+themselves along with their right Arms to make more hast, and now and
+then with a greasie Muckender wipe away the dripping that bastes their
+Foreheads. At the Door they meet a crowd of_ Wapping _Sea-men_,
+Southwark _Broom-men, the Inhabitants of the_ Bank-Side, _with a
+Butcher or two prickt in among them. There a while they stand gaping
+for the Master of the Show, staring upon the Suburbs of their dearest
+delight, just as they stand gaping upon the painted Cloth before they
+go into the Puppet Play. By and by they hear the Bunch of Keys, which
+rejoyces their Hearts like the sound of the_ Pancake-Bell. _For now
+the Man of Comfort peeps over the Spikes, and beholding such a learned
+Auditory, opens the Gate of_ Paradise, _and by that time they are half
+got into the first Chapel, (for time is very precious) he lifts up his
+Voice among the Tombs, and begins his Lurrey in manner and form
+following._
+
+_To the foregoing Tune; In Imitation of the Old Soldiers._
+
+Here lies _William de Valence_,
+  A right good Earl of _Pembroke_,
+And this is his Monument which you see,
+  I'll swear upon a Book.
+
+He was high Marshal of _England_,
+  When _Henry_ the Third did Reign;
+But this you take upon my Word,
+  That he'll ne'er be so again.
+
+Here the Lord _Edward Talbot_ lies,
+  The Town of _Shrewsbury's_ Earl;
+Together with his Countess fair,
+  That was a most delicate Girl.
+
+The next to him there lyeth one,
+  Sir _Richard Peckshall_ hight;
+Of whom we only this do say,
+  He was a _Hampshire_ Knight.
+
+But now to tell you more of him,
+  There lies beneath this Stone:
+Two Wives of his, and Daughters four,
+  To all of Us unknown.
+
+Sir _Bernard Brockhurst_ there doth lie,
+  Lord Chamberlain to Queen _Ann_;
+Queen _Ann_ was _Richard_ the Second's Queen,
+  And was King of _England_.
+
+Sir _Francis Hollis_, the Lady _Frances_,
+  The same was _Suffolk's_ Dutchess;
+Two Children of _Edward_ the Third,
+  Lie here in Death's cold Clutches.
+
+This is the Third King _Edward's_ Brother,
+  Of whom our Records tell
+Nothing of Note, nor say they whether,
+  He be in Heaven or Hell.
+
+This same was _John_ of _Eldeston_,
+  He was no Costermonger;
+But _Cornwall's_ Earl, and here's one dy'd,
+  'Cause he could live no longer.
+
+The Lady _Mohun_, Dutchess of _York_,
+  And Duke of _York's_ Wife also;
+But Death resolv'd to Horn the Duke,
+  She lies now with Death below.
+
+The Lady _Ann Ross_, but wot ye well,
+  That she in Childbed dy'd;
+The Lady Marquiss of _Winchester_,
+  Lies Buried by her side.
+
+Now think your Penny well spent good Folks,
+  And that you're not beguil'd;
+Within this Cup doth lie the Heart
+  Of a _French Embassador's_ Child.
+
+But how the Devil it came to pass,
+  On purpose, or by chance;
+The Bowels they lie underneath,
+  The Body is in _France_.
+
+[Sidenote: Dol. _I warrant ye the_ Pharises _carried it away._]
+
+There's _Oxford's_ Countess, and there also
+  The Lady _Burleigh_ her Mother;
+And there her Daughter, a Countess too,
+  Lie close by one another.
+
+These once were bonny Dames, and tho'
+  There were no Coaches then,
+Yet could they jog their Tails themselves,
+  Or had them jogg'd by Men.
+
+[Sidenote: Dick. _Ho, ho, ho, I warrant ye they did as other Women
+did, ha_ Ralf. Ralf. _Oy, Oy._]
+
+But woe is me! those high born Sinners;
+  That went to pray so stoutly;
+Are now laid low, and 'cause they can't,
+  Their Statues pray devoutly.
+
+This is the Dutchess of _Somerset_,
+  By Name the Lady _Ann_;
+Her Lord _Edward_ the Sixth Protected,
+  Oh! he was a Gallant Man.
+
+[Sidenote: Tom. _I have heard a Ballad of him sang at_ Ratcliff Cross.
+Mol. _I believe we have it at home over our Kitchin Mantle-Tree._]
+
+In this fair Monument which you see,
+  Adorn'd with so many Pillars;
+Doth lie the Countess of _Buckingham_,
+  And her Husband, Sir _George Villers_.
+
+This old Sir _George_ was Grandfather,
+  And the Countess she was Granny;
+To the great Duke of _Buckingham_,
+  Who often topt King _Jammy_.
+
+Sir _Robert Eatam_, a _Scotch_ Knight,
+  This Man was Secretary;
+And scribl'd Compliments for two Queens,
+  Queen _Ann_, and eke Queen _Mary_.
+
+This was the Countess of _Lenox_,
+  Yclep'd the Lady _Marget_:
+King _James's_ Grandmother, and yet
+  'Gainst Death she had no Target.
+
+This was Queen _Mary_, Queen of _Scots_,
+  Whom _Buchanan_ doth bespatter;
+She lost her Head at _Tottingham_,
+  What ever was the Matter.
+
+[Sidenote: Dol. _How came she here then?_ Will. _Why ye silly Oafe
+could not she be brought here, after she was Dead?_]
+
+The Mother of our Seventh _Henry_,
+  This is that lyeth hard by;
+She was the Countess wot ye well,
+  Of _Richmond_ and of _Derby_.
+
+_Henry_ the Seventh lieth here,
+  With his fair Queen beside him,
+He was the Founder of this Chapel,
+  Oh! may no ill betide him.
+
+Therefore his Monument's in Brass,
+  You'll say that very much is;
+The Duke of _Richmond_ and _Lenox_,
+  There lieth with his Dutchess.
+
+[Sidenote: Rog. _I warrant ye these were no small Fools in those
+days._]
+
+And here they stand upright in a Press
+  With Bodies made of Wax;
+With a Globe and a Wand in either Hand,
+  And their Robes upon their Backs.
+
+Here lies the Duke of _Buckingham_,
+  And the Dutchess his Wife;
+Him _Felton_ Stabb'd at _Portsmouth_ Town,
+  And so he lost his Life.
+
+Two Children of King _James_ these are,
+  Whom Death keeps very chary;
+_Sophia_ in the Cradle lies,
+  And this is the Lady _Mary_.
+
+[Sidenote: Bess. _Good Woman pray still your Child, it keeps such a
+bawling, we can't hear what the Man says._]
+
+And this is Queen _Elizabeth_,
+  How the _Spaniards_ did infest her?
+Here she lies Buried, with Queen _Mary_,
+  And now agrees with her Sister.
+
+To another Chapel now we come,
+  The People follow and chat;
+This is the Lady _Cottington_,
+  And the People cry, who's that?
+
+This is the Lady _Frances Sidney_,
+  The Countess of _Suffolk_ was she;
+And this the Lord _Dudley Carleton_ is,
+  And then they look up and see.
+
+Sir _Thomas Brumley_ lieth here,
+  Death would him not reprieve;
+With his four Sons, and Daughters four,
+  That once were all alive.
+
+The next is Sir _John Fullerton_,
+  And this is his Lady I trow;
+And this is Sir _John Puckering_,
+  Whom none of you did know.
+
+That's the Earl of _Bridgwater_ in the middle,
+  Who makes no use of his Bladder;
+Although his Lady lie so near him,
+  And so we go up a Ladder.
+
+[Sidenote: Kate. _He took more pains, than I would ha done for a
+Hundred such._]
+
+_Edward_ the First, that Gallant Blade,
+  Lies underneath this Stone;
+And this is the Chair which he did bring,
+  A good while ago from _Scone_.
+
+In this same Chair, till now of late,
+  Our Kings and Queens were Crown'd;
+Under this Chair another Stone
+  Doth lie upon the Ground.
+
+[Sidenote: Ralf. _Gad I warrant there has been many a Maiden-head got
+in that Chair._ Tom. _Gad and I'll come hither and try one of these
+Days, an't be but to get a Prince._ Dol. _A_ Papist _I warrant him._]
+
+On that same Stone did _Jacob_ sleep,
+  Instead of a Down Pillow;
+And after that 'twas hither brought,
+  By some good honest Fellow.
+
+_Richard_ the Second lieth here,
+  And his first Queen, Queen _Ann_;
+_Edward_ the Third lies here hard by,
+  Oh! there was a Gallant Man.
+
+For this was his two handed Sword,
+  A Blade both true and Trusty;
+The _French_ Men's Blood was ne'er wip'd off,
+  Which makes it look so rusty.
+
+Here he lies again, with his Queen _Philip_,
+  A _Dutch_ Woman by Record,
+But that's all one, for now alass!
+  His Blade's not so long as his Sword.
+
+King _Edward_ the Confessor lies
+  Within this Monument fine;
+I'm sure, quoth one, a worser Tomb
+  Must serve both me and mine.
+
+_Harry_ the Fifth lies there, and there
+  Doth lie Queen _Eleanor_;
+To our first _Edward_ she was Wife,
+  Which was more than ye knew before.
+
+_Henry_ the Third lies there Entomb'd,
+  He was Herb _John_ in Pottage;
+Little he did, but still Reign'd on,
+  Although his Sons were at Age.
+
+Fifty six Years he Reigned King,
+  E'er he the Crown would lay by;
+Only we praise him, 'cause he was
+  Last Builder of the _Abby_.
+
+Here _Thomas Cecil_ lies, who's that?
+  Why 'tis the Earl of _Exeter_;
+And this his Countess is, to Die
+How it perplexed her.
+
+[Sidenote: Dol. _Ay, ay, I warrant her, rich Folks are as unwilling to
+die as poor Folks._]
+
+Here _Henry Cary_, Lord _Hunsdon_ rests,
+  What a noise he makes with his Name?
+Lord Chamberlain was he unto
+  Queen _Elizabeth_ of great Fame.
+
+[Sidenote: Sisly. _That's he for whom our Bells ring so often, is it
+not_ Mary? Mol. _Ay, ay, the very same._]
+
+And here's one _William Colchester_
+  Lies of a Certainty;
+An Abbot was he of _Westminster_,
+  And he that saith no, doth lie.
+
+This is the Bishop of _Durham_,
+  By Death here lay'd in Fetters;
+_Henry_ the Seventh lov'd him well,
+  And so he wrote his Letters.
+
+Sir _Thomas Bacchus_, what of him?
+  Poor Gentleman not a Word;
+Only they Buried him here; but now
+  Behold that Man with a Sword.
+
+_Humphry de Bohun_, who though he were
+  Not born with me i'the same Town;
+Yet I can tell he was Earl of _Essex_,
+  Of _Hertford_, and _Northampton_.
+
+He was High Constable of _England_,
+  As History well expresses;
+But now pretty Maids be of good Chear,
+  We're going up to the Presses.
+
+And now the Presses open stand,
+  And ye see them all arow;
+But never no more are said of these
+  Then what is said below.
+
+Now down the Stairs come we again,
+  The Man goes first with a Staff;
+Some two or three tumble down the Stairs,
+  And then the People laugh.
+
+This is the great Sir _Francis Vere_,
+  That so the _Spaniards_ curry'd;
+Four Colonels support his Tomb,
+  And here his Body's Buried.
+
+That _Statue_ against the _Wall_ with one Eye,
+  Is Major General _Norris_;
+He beat the _Spaniards_ cruelly,
+  As is affirm'd in Stories.
+
+[Sidenote: Dick. _I warrant ye he had two, if he could have but kep'd
+'em._]
+
+His six Sons there hard by him stand,
+  Each one was a Commander;
+To shew he could a Lady serve,
+  As well as the _Hollander_.
+
+And there doth Sir _John Hollis_ rest,
+  Who was the Major General;
+To Sir _John Norris_, that brave blade,
+  And so they go to Dinner all.
+
+For now the Shew is at an end,
+  All things are done and said;
+The Citizen pays for his Wife,
+  The Prentice for the Maid.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _Sung by Mrs._ CAMPION, _in the Comedy call'd_, she wou'd and
+she wou'd not. _By Mr._ JOHN WELDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Caelia_ my Heart has often rang'd,
+  Like Bees o'er Gaudy Flowers;
+And many Thousand Loves have chang'd,
+  'Till it was fix'd, 'till it was fix'd on yours;
+But _Caelia_ when I saw those Eyes,
+  'Twas soon, 'twas soon determin'd there;
+Stars might as well forsake the Skies,
+  And Vanish into Air:
+Stars might as well forsake the Skies,
+  And Vanish into Air.
+
+Now if from the great Rules I err,
+  New Beauties, new Beauties to admire;
+May I again, again turn wanderer,
+  And never, never, never, never, never, no, never,
+  Never, never, never, never, never, never, never,
+  Never, never, never, settle more:
+May I again, again turn wanderer,
+  And never, never, never, never, never, no, never,
+  Never, never, never, never, never, never, never,
+  Never, never, never, settle more.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _made for the Entertainment of her Royal Highness. Set by
+Mr._ LEVERIDGE. _Sung by Mrs._ LINDSEY _in_ CALIGULA.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Tho' over all Mankind, besides my conquering Beauty,
+Conquering beauty, my conquering beauty Reigns;
+My conquering Beauty Reigns;
+From him I love, from him I love when I meet disdain,
+A killing damp, a killing damp comes o'er my Pride:
+I'm fair and young, I'm fair and young,
+I'm fair and young in vain:
+I'm fair and young, I'm fair and young,
+I'm fair and young in vain;
+No, no, no, let him wander where he will,
+Let him wander, let him wander,
+Let him wander, let him wander where he will,
+I shall have Youth and Beauty, Youth and Beauty,
+  Youth and Beauty,
+I shall have Youth and Beauty, Youth and Beauty still;
+I shall have Beauty that can charm a _Jove_,
+Can Charm a _Jove_, and no fault,
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no fault, no, no, no fault,
+  But constant Love:
+From my Arms then let him fly, fly, fly,
+From my Arms then let him fly;
+Shall I languish, pine, and dye?
+No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no not I.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the Fair_ PENITENT. _Set by Mr._ ECCLES. _Sung by Mrs._
+HUDSON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Stay, ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou'd you fly?
+Ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou'd you fly?
+Whither, whither wou'd you fly?
+Too Charming, too Charming, too relentless Maid,
+I follow not to conquer, not to conquer,
+I follow not to conquer, but to dye:
+You of the fearful, of the fearful are afraid,
+Ah stay, ah turn, ah whither wou'd you fly?
+Whither, whither, whither, whither, ah whither wou'd you fly?
+
+In vain, in vain I call, in vain, in vain I call,
+While she like fleeting, fleeting Air;
+When press'd by some tempestuous Wind,
+Flys swifter from the voice of my Despair:
+Nor cast a pitying, pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying look,
+Not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind,
+No not one, no not one, not one pitying, pitying, pitying look behind.
+
+
+
+
+_A new_ SONG. _The Words by Mr._ Tho. Wall. _Set to Musick by Mr._
+Henry Eccles, _Junior._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+No more let _Damon's_ Eyes pursue,
+No more let _Damon's_ Eyes pursue,
+  The bright enchanting Fair;
+_Almira_ thousands, thousands, thousands can undo,
+  And thousands more, and thousands more,
+  And thousands more may still despair,
+  And thousands more may still despair.
+
+For oh her bright alluring Eyes,
+  And Graces all admire;
+For her the wounded Lover dies,
+And ev'ry Breast, and ev'ry Heart,
+  And ev'ry Breast is set on Fire.
+
+Then oh poor _Damon_, see thy Fate,
+  But never more complain;
+For all a Thousand Hearts will stake,
+And all may sigh, and all may die,
+  And all may sigh and die in vain.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ DEAR JOY'S _Lamentation._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Ho my dear Joy, now what dost thou think?
+Hoop by my shoul our Country-men stink;
+To _Ireland_ they can never return,
+The Hereticks there our Houses will burn:
+  _Ah hone, ah hone, ah hone a cree._
+
+A Pox on _T----l_ for a Son of a W----,
+He was the cause of our coming o'er;
+And when to _Dublin_ we came to put on our Coats,
+He told us his business was cutting of Throats.
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+Our Devil has left us now in the Lurch,
+A Plague light upon the _Protestant_ C----
+If _P----s_ had let but the Bishops alone,
+O then the Nation had all been our own.
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+And I wish other Measures had been taken,
+For now I fear we shan't save our Bacon;
+Now _Orange_ to _London_ is coming down-right,
+And the Soldiers against him resolve not to Fight
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+What we shall do, the Lord himself knows,
+Our Army is beaten without any blows;
+Our M----r begins to feel some remorse,
+For the Grey Mare has proved the better Horse.
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+If the _French_ do but come, which is all our Hopes,
+We'll bundle the Hereticks all up with Ropes;
+If _London_ stands to us as _Bristol_ has done,
+We need not fear but _Orange_ must run.
+  _Ah hone_, &c.
+
+But if they prove false, and to _Orange_ they scower,
+By G---- all the M---- shall play from the _Tower_;
+Our Massacree fresh in their Memories grown,
+The Devil tauk me, we all shall go down.
+  _A hone, a hone, a hone a Cree._
+
+
+
+
+_The Character of a_ Seat's-man; _written by one of the_ CRAFT: _To be
+Sung on_ CRISPIN-Night. _Tune_ Packington's Pound.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I am one in whom Nature has fix'd a Decree,
+Ordaining my Life to happy and free;
+With no Cares of the World I am never perplex'd,
+And never depending, I never am vex'd:
+I'm neither of so high nor so low a degree,
+But Ambition and Want are both strangers to me;
+My life is a compound of Freedom and Ease,
+I go where I will, and I work when I please:
+I live above Envy, and yet above Spight,
+And have Judgment enough for to do my self right;
+Some greater and richer I own there may be,
+Yet as many live worse, as live better than me,
+And few that from Cares live so quiet and free.
+
+When Money comes in I live well 'till it's gone,
+So with it I'm happy, Content when I've none:
+I spend it Genteelly, and never repent,
+If I lose it at Play, why I count it but Lent:
+For that which at one time I Lose among Friends,
+Another Night's Winnings still makes me amends:
+And though I'm without the first Day of the Week,
+I still make it out by Shift or by Tick:
+In Mirth at my Work the swift Hours do pass,
+And by _Saturday_ Night, I'm as rich as I was.
+
+Then let Masters drudge on, and be Slaves to their Trade,
+Let their Hours of Pleasure by Business be stay'd;
+Let them venture their Stocks to be ruin'd by Trust,
+Let Clickers bark on the whole Day at their Post:
+Let 'em tire all that pass with their rotified Cant,
+"Will you buy any Shoes, pray see what you want";
+Let the rest of the World still contend to be great,
+Let some by their Losses repine at their Fate:
+Let others that Thrive, not content with their store,
+Be plagu'd with the Trouble and Thoughts to get more.
+
+Let wise Men invent, 'till the World be deceived,
+Let Fools thrive thro' Fortune, and Knaves be believed;
+Let such as are rich know no Want, but Content,
+Let others be plagu'd to pay Taxes and Rent:
+With more Freedom and Pleasure my Time I'll employ,
+And covet no Blessings but what we enjoy.
+
+Then let's celebrate _Crispin_ with Bumpers and Songs,
+And they that drink Foul, may it blister their Tongues,
+Here's two in a Hand, and let no one deny 'em,
+Since _Crispin_ in Youth was a _Seat's-man_ as I am.
+
+
+
+
+_The Female Scuffle. To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+Of late in the Park a fair Fancy was seen,
+Betwixt an old _Baud_ and a lusty young _Quean_;
+Their parting of Money began the uproar,
+I'll have half says the _Baud_, but you shan't says the _Whore_:
+    Why 'tis my own House,
+    I care not a Louse,
+I'll ha' three parts in four, or you get not a Souse.
+
+'Tis I, says the _Whore_, must take all the Pains,
+And you shall be damn'd e'er you get all the Gains;
+The _Baud_ being vex'd, straight to her did say,
+Come off wi' your _Duds_, and I pray pack away,
+And likewise your _Ribbonds_, your _Gloves_, and your _Hair_,
+For naked you came, and so out you go bare;
+    Then _Buttocks_ so bold,
+    Began for to Scold,
+_Hurrydan_ was not able her _Clack_ for to hold.
+
+Both _Pell-Mell_ fell to't, and made this uproar,
+With these Compliments, th'art a _Baud_, th'art a _Whore_:
+The _Bauds_ and the _Buttocks_ that liv'd there around,
+Came all to the Case, both _Pockey_ and _Sound_,
+To see what the reason was of this same Fray,
+That did so disturb them before it was Day;
+    If I tell you amiss,
+    Let me never more Piss,
+This _Buttocks_ so bold she named was _Siss_.
+
+By _Quiffing_ with _Cullies_ three Pound she had got,
+And but one part of four must fall to her Lot;
+Yet all the _Bauds_ cry'd, let us turn her out bare,
+Unless she will yield to return her half share;
+If she will not, we'll help to strip off her Cloaths,
+And turn her abroad with a slit o' the Nose:
+    Who when she did see,
+    There was no Remedy,
+For her from the Tyranous _Bauds_ to get free;
+The _Whore_ from the Money was forced to yield,
+And in the Conclusion the _Baud_ got the Field.
+
+
+
+
+_An Elegy on_ MOUNTFORT. _To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+Poor _Mountfort_ is gone, and the Ladies do all
+Break their Hearts for this Beau, as they did for _Duvall_;
+And they the two Brats for this Tragedy damn
+At _Kensington_ Court, and the Court of _Bantam_,
+    They all vow and Swear,
+    That if any Peer,
+Should acquit this young Lord, he shou'd pay very dear;
+Nor will they be pleased with him who on the Throne is,
+If he do's not his part to revenge their _Adonis_.
+
+With the Widow their amorous Bowels do yearn,
+There are divers pretend to an equal Concern;
+And by her Perswasion their Hearts they reveal,
+In case if not guilty, to bring an Appeal:
+    They all will unite,
+    The young Blade to indite,
+And in Prosecution will joyn Day and Night;
+In the mean time full many a Tear and a Groan is,
+Wherever they meet, for their departed _Adonis_.
+
+With the Ladies foul Murther's a horrible Sin
+Of one Handsome without, tho' a Coxcomb within;
+For not being a Beau, the sad Fate of poor _Crab_,
+Tho' himself hang'd for Love, was a Jest to each Drab;
+    Then may _Jering_ live long,
+    And may _Risby_ among
+The Fair with _Jack Barkley_, and _Culpepper_ throng:
+May no Ruffin whose Heart as hard as a Stone is,
+Kill any of those for a Brother _Adonis_.
+
+No Lady henceforth can be safe with her Beau,
+They think if this Slaughter unpunish'd should go;
+Their Gallants, for whose Persons they most are in Pain,
+Must no sooner be envy'd, but strait must be Slain:
+    For all _B----_ shape,
+    None car'd for the Rape,
+Nor whether the Virtuous their Lust did escape;
+Their Trouble of Mind, and their anguish alone is,
+For the too sudden Fate of departed _Adonis_.
+
+Let not every vain Spark think that he can engage,
+The Heart of a Female, like one on the Stage;
+His Flute, and his Voice, and his Dancing are rare,
+And wherever they meet, they prevail with the Fair:
+    But no quality Fop,
+    Charms like Mr. _Hop_,
+Adorn'd on the Stage, and in _East-India_ Shop;
+So that each from _Miss Felton_, to ancient _Drake Joan_ is,
+Bemoaning the Death of the Player _Adonis_.
+
+Yet _Adonis_ in spight of this new Abjuration,
+Did banter the lawful King of this great Nation:
+Who call'd God's anointed a foolish old Prig,
+Was both a base and unmannerly _Whigg_:
+    But since he is Dead
+    No more shall be said,
+For he in Repentance has laid down his Head;
+So I wish each Lady, who in mournful Tone is,
+In Charity Grieve for the Death of _Adonis_.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ JAMES TOWNSHEND, _Organist of_ LYN RIGES. _The Words by_
+J.R.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Fly _Damon_ fly, 'tis Death to stay,
+  Nor listen to the _Syren's_ Song;
+Nor hear her warbling Fingers play,
+  That kills in Consort with her Tongue:
+Oft to despairing Shepherds Verse,
+  Unmov'd she tunes the trembling Strings;
+Oft does some pitying Words rehearse,
+  But little means the thing she Sings.
+
+Cease on her lovely Looks to gaze,
+  Nor court your Ruin in her Eyes;
+Her Looks too 's dangerous as her Face,
+  At once engages and Destroys:
+Speak not if you'd avoid your Fate,
+  For then she darts Resentment home;
+But fly, fly _Damon_ e'er too late,
+  Or else be Deaf, be Blind, be Dumb.
+
+
+
+
+MERCURY _to_ PARIS, _in the Prize Musick, Compos'd by Mr._ John
+Eccles.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Fear not Mortal, none shall harm thee,
+With this Sacred Rod I'll Charm thee;
+Freely gaze, and view all over,
+Thou mayst every Grace discover:
+Though a thousand Darts fly round thee,
+Fear not Mortal, none can Wound thee;
+  _Though a thousand Darts fly round thee,_
+  _Fear not Mortal, none can Wound thee._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ W. Morley.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Born to surprize the World,
+Born to surprize the World, and teach the Great,
+The slippery Danger of exalted State;
+Victorious _Marlborough_, Victorious _Marlborough_, to Battle flies,
+Arm'd, Arm'd with new Lightning from bright _Anna's_ Eyes:
+Wonders, Wonders like these no former Age has seen,
+The Subjects Heroes, the Subjects Heroes, and a Saint the Queen.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ J. ISUM.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In vain, in vain, in vain, in vain, in vain,
+  In vain the God I ask,
+  He'll ne'er remove the Dart;
+And still I love the pretty, pretty Boy,
+  Altho', altho' he wound my Heart:
+Henceforth I'll be contented then,
+  No more will I desire;
+  No, no, no more, no, no, no more will I desire,
+To slight her whom I love so much,
+  That but creates the Fire:
+Well might I expect the Fate,
+  As well as any other;
+Since he ne'er spares the Gods themselves,
+  Nor does he spare his Mother.
+
+
+
+
+_An Amorous_ SONG. _To the Tune of_, The bonny Christ-Church Bells.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+See how fair and fine she lies,
+      Upon her Bridal Bed;
+    No Lady at the Court,
+    So fit for the Sport,
+  Oh she look'd so curiously White and Red:
+After the first and second time,
+  The weary Bridegroom slacks his Pace;
+But Oh! she cries, come, come my Joy,
+  And cling thy Cheek close to my Face:
+Tinkle, tinkle, goes the Bell under the Bed,
+  Whilst Time and Touch they keep;
+    Then with a Kiss,
+    They end their Bliss,
+  And so fall fast asleep.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ J. ISUM.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you,
+_Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you,
+Where's the harm in saying so?
+_Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you,
+Where's the harm in saying so?
+Why shou'd my Sighs, why shou'd my Sighs,
+Why shou'd my Sighs and Fondness move you?
+To encrease, to encrease your Shepherd's Woe:
+Flame pent in still burns and scorches,
+'Till it burns a Lover's Heart:
+Love declar'd like lighted Torches,
+Wastes it self and gives less Pain:
+Love declar'd like lighted Torches,
+Wastes it self, wastes it self,
+Wastes it self, and gives less Smart.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ JOHN ISUM.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Caelia's_ Charms are past expressing,
+  Were she kind as she is Fair;
+_Caelia's_ Charms are past expressing,
+  Were she kind as she is Fair:
+Heav'ns cou'd grant no greater Blessing,
+  Nor Earth a Nymph more worth our Care;
+Heav'ns cou'd grant no greater Blessing,
+  Nor Earth a Nymph, nor Earth a Nymph more worth our Care.
+
+But Unkindness, Unkindness mars her Beauty,
+  And useless makes that Heav'nly,
+  That Heav'nly, that Heav'nly frame;
+But Unkindness mars her Beauty,
+  And useless makes that Heav'nly, Heav'nly frame:
+While she mistakes and calls that Duty,
+  Which ill Nature others name:
+While she mistakes and calls that Duty,
+  Which ill Nature others name.
+
+
+
+
+_The Hopeful Bargain: Or a Fare for a Hackney-Coachman, giving a
+Comical relation, how an_ Ale-draper _at the Sign of the_
+Double-tooth'd Rake _in or near the new_ Palace-yard, Westminster,
+_Sold his Wife for a Shilling, and how she was sold a Second time for
+five Shillings to_ JUDGE; _My Lord ---- Coachman, and how her Husband
+receiv'd her again after she had lain with other Folks three Days and
+Nights_, &c. _The Tune_ Lilly Bullero.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+There lives an Ale-draper near _New-palace-yard_,
+  Who used to Jerk the Bum of his Wife;
+And she was forced to stand on her Guard,
+  To keep his Clutches from her Quoiff:
+She poor Soul the weaker Vessel,
+  To be reconcil'd was easily won;
+He held her in scorn,
+  But she Crown'd him with Horn,
+    _Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run._
+
+He for a Shilling sold his Spouse,
+  And she was very willing to go;
+And left the poor Cuckold alone in the House,
+  That he by himself his Horn might blow:
+A Hackney Coachman he did buy her,
+  And was not this a very good Fun;
+With a dirty Pinner,
+  As I am a Sinner,
+    _Without Hood or Scarff, but rough as she run._
+
+The Woman gladly did depart,
+  Between three Men was handed away;
+He for her Husband did care not a Fart,
+  He kept her one whole Night and Day:
+Then honest _Judge_ the Coachman bought her,
+  And was not this most cunningly done?
+Gave for her five Shilling,
+To take her was willing,
+    _Without Hood or Scarff_, &c.
+
+The Cuckold to _Judge_, a Letter did send,
+  Wherein he did most humbly crave;
+Quoth he, I prithee, my Rival Friend,
+  My Spouse again I fain would have:
+And if you will but let me have her,
+  I'll pardon what she e'er has done;
+I swear by my Maker,
+Again I will take her,
+    _Without Hood and Scarff_, &c.
+
+He sent an old Baud to interceed,
+  And to perswade her to come back;
+That he might have one of her delicate breed,
+  And he would give her a ha'p'uth of Sack:
+Therefore prithee now come to me,
+  Or else poor I shall be undone:
+Then do not forgo me,
+But prithee come to me,
+    _Without Hood or Scarff, tho' rough_, &c.
+
+The Coachman then with much ado,
+  Did suffer the Baud to take her out;
+Upon the Condition that she would be true,
+  And let him have now and then a Bout:
+But he took from her forty Shillings,
+  And gave her a parting Glass at the _Sun_;
+And then with good buyt' ye,
+Discharged his Duty,
+    _And turn'd her a grazing, rough as she run._
+
+The Cuckold invited the Coachman to dine,
+  And gave him a Treat at his own Expence;
+They drown'd all Cares in full brimmers of Wine,
+  He made him as welcome as any Prince:
+There was all the Hungregation,
+  Which from _Cuckolds-Point_ was come;
+They kissed and fumbled,
+They touzed and tumbled,
+    _He was glad to take her rough as she run._
+
+_Judge_ does enjoy her where he list,
+  He values not the old Cuckold's Pouts;
+And she is as good for the Game as e'er pist,
+  Fudge on his Horns sits drying of Clouts:
+She rants and revels when she pleases,
+  And to end as I begun,
+The Horned Wise-acre,
+Is forced to take her
+    _Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run._
+
+
+
+
+_The_ MAIDEN LOTTERY: _Containing 70 Thousand Tickets, at a Guinea
+each; the Prizes being Rich and Loving Husbands, from three Thousand
+to one Hundred a Year, which Lottery will begin to draw on next_
+VALENTINE'S _Day._
+
+_Then pretty Lasses venture now,_
+_Kind_ Fortune _may her Smiles alow._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Young Ladies that live in the City,
+  Sweet beautiful proper and Tall;
+And Country Maids who dabling wades,
+  Here's happy good News for you all:
+A Lottery now out of hand,
+  Erected will be in the _Strand_;
+Young Husbands with Treasure, and Wealth out of measure
+  Will fairly be at your Command:
+_Of her that shall light of a Fortunate Lot,_
+  _There's Six of three Thousand a Year to be got._
+
+I tell you the Price of each Ticket,
+  It is but a Guinea, I'll vow;
+Then hasten away, and make no delay,
+  And fill up the Lottery now:
+If _Gillian_ that lodges in Straw,
+  Shall have the good Fortune to draw
+A Knight or a 'Squire, he'll never deny her,
+  'Tis fair and according to Law;
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There's Ten of two Thousand a Year to be got._
+
+The number is Seventy Thousand,
+  When all the whole Lot is compleat;
+Five Hundred of which, are Prizes most rich,
+  Believe me for this is no Cheat:
+There's Drapers and Taylors likewise,
+  Brave Men that you cannot despise;
+Come _Bridget_ and _Jenny_, and throw in your Guinea,
+  A Husband's a delicate Prize:
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There's Ten of one Thousand a Year to be got._
+
+Suppose you should win for your Guinea,
+  A Man of three Thousand a Year;
+Would this not be brave; what more would you have?
+  You soon might in Glory appear:
+In glittering Coach you may ride,
+  With Lackeys to run by your side;
+For why should you spare it? Faith win Gold and wear it;
+  Now who would not be such a Bride?
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There's Sixty, Five Hundreds a Year to be got._
+
+Old Widows, and Maids above Forty,
+  Shall not be admitted to draw:
+There's five Hundred and Ten, as proper young Men,
+  Indeed, as your Eyes ever saw:
+Who scorns for one Guinea of Gold,
+  To lodge with a Woman that's Old;
+Young Maids are admitted, in hopes to be fitted,
+  With Husbands couragious and bold:
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There are wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got._
+
+Kind Men that are full of good Nature,
+  The flaxen, the black, and the brown;
+Both lusty and stout, and fit to hold out,
+  The prime and the top of the Town:
+So clever in every part,
+  They'll please a young Girl to the Heart;
+Nay, kiss you, and squeese you, and tenderly please you,
+  For Love has a conquering Dart:
+_Then come pretty Lasses and purchase a Lot,_
+_There are Wealthy kind Husbands now, now to be got._
+
+Then never be fearful to venture,
+  But Girls bring you Guineas away;
+Come merrily in, for we shall begin,
+  To draw upon _Valentine's_ Day:
+The Prizes are many and great,
+  Each Man with a worthy Estate;
+Then come away _Mary_, _Sib_, _Susan_, and _Sarah_,
+  _Joan_, _Nancy_, and pretty fac'd _Kate_:
+_For now is the time if you'll purchase a Lot,_
+_While Wealthy kind Husbands they are to be got._
+
+Amongst you I know there is many,
+  Will miss of a Capital Prize:
+Yet nevertheless, no Sorrows express,
+  But dry up your watry Eyes:
+Young Lasses it is but in vain,
+  In sorrowful Sighs to complain;
+Then ne'er be faint hearted, tho' Luck be departed,
+  For all cannot reckon to gain:
+_Yet venture young Lasses, your Guineas bring in,_
+_The Lucky will have the good Fortune to win._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _on the_ JUBILEE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come Beaus, Virtuoso's, rich Heirs and Musicians
+  Away, and in Troops to the _Jubile_ jog;
+Leave Discord and Death, to the College Physicians,
+  Let the Vig'rous whore on, and the impotent Flog:
+Already _Rome_ opens her Arms to receive ye,
+And ev'ry Transgression her Lord will forgive ye.
+
+Indulgences, Pardons, and such Holy Lumber,
+  As cheap there is now as our Cabbages grown;
+While musty old Relicks of Saints without number,
+  For barely the looking upon, shall be shown:
+These, were you an Atheist, must needs overcome ye,
+That first were made Martyrs, and afterwards Mummy.
+
+They'll shew ye the River, so Sung by the Poets,
+  With the Rock from whence, Mortals were knockt o'th' Head;
+They'll shew ye the place too, as some will avow it,
+  Where once a She Pope was brought fairly to Bed:
+For which, ever since, to prevent Interloping,
+  In a Chair her Successors still suffer a Groping.
+
+What a sight 'tis to see the gay Idol accoutred,
+  With Mitre and Cap, and two Keys by his side;
+Be his inside what 'twill, yet the Pomp of his outward,
+  Shows _Servus servorum_, no hater of Pride,
+These Keys into Heav'n will as surely admit ye,
+As Clerks of a Parish to a Pew in the City.
+
+What a sight 'tis to see the old Man in Procession,
+  Through _Rome_ in such Pomp as here _Caesar_ did ride,
+Now scattering of Pardons, here Crossing, there Blessing,
+  With all his shav'd Spiritual Train'd-bans by his side;
+As, _Confessors_, _Cardinals_, _Monks_ fat as Bacons,
+From Rev'rend _Arch-Bishops_, to Rosie _Arch-Deacons_.
+
+Then for your Diversion the more to regale ye,
+  Fine Music you'll hear, and high Dancing you'll see;
+Men who much shall out-warble your Famous _Fideli_,
+  And make ye meer Fools, of _Balloon_ and _L'Abbe_:
+And to shew ye how fond they're to Kiss _Vostre Manos_,
+  Each _Padre_ turns Pimp, all _Nuns_ Courtezana's.
+
+And when you've some Months at old _Babylon_ been-_a_,
+  And on Pardons, and Punks, all your _Rhino_ is spent;
+And when you have seen all, that there is to be seen-_a_,
+  You'll return not so Rich, tho' as Wise as you went:
+And 'twill be but small Comfort after so much Expence-_a_,
+  That your Heirs will do just so an Hundred Years hence-_a_.
+
+
+
+
+_A Young Man's_ WILL.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+A _Young Man_ sick and like to die,
+  His last _Will_ being written found;
+I give my _Soul_ to _God_ on high,
+  And my _Body_ to the Ground:
+Unto some _Church-men_ do I give,
+  Base Minds to greedy Lucre bent;
+_Pride_ and _Ambition_ whilst they live,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+_Item._ Poor folks _brown Bread_ I give,
+  And eke _bare Bones_, with hungry Cheeks;
+_Toil_ and _Travel_ whilst they live,
+  And to feed on _Roots_ and _Leeks_:
+_Item._ To Rich Men I bestow,
+  High _Looks_, low _Deeds_, and Hearts of Flint;
+And that themselves they seldom know,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+Proud stately _Courtiers_ do I _Will_,
+  Two Faces in one Head to wear,
+For Great Men _Bribes_, I think most fit,
+  _Pride_ and _Oppression_ through the Year:
+_Tenants_ I give them leave to lose,
+  And _Landlords_ for to raise their _Rent_;
+_Rogues_ to Fawn, Collogue and glose,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+_Item._ To _Soldiers_ for their _Fees_,
+  I give them _Wounds_ their Bodies full;
+And for to beg on bended Knees,
+  With Cap in Hand to every _Gull_:
+_Item_. I will poor _Scholars_ have,
+  For all their Pains and Travel spent:
+_Raggs_, _Jaggs_, and _Taunts_ of every Knave,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+To _Shoemakers_ I grant this Boon,
+  Which _Mercury_ gave them once before;
+Altho' they earn two Pence by Noon,
+  To spend e'er Night two Groats and more:
+And _Blacksmiths_ when the Work is done,
+  I give to them incontinent,
+To drink two Barrels with a Bun,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+To _Weavers_ swift, this do I leave,
+  Against that may beseem them well:
+That they their good Wives do deceive,
+  Bring home a Yard and steal an Ell:
+And _Taylors_ too must be set down,
+  A _Gift_ to give them I am bent;
+To cut four Sleeves to every Gown,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+To Tavern haunters grant I more,
+  Red Eyes, Red Nose, and Stinking Breath;
+And Doublets foul with drops before,
+  And foul Shame until their _Death_:
+And _Gamesters_ that will never leave,
+  Before their Substance be all spent;
+The Wooden _Dagger_ I bequeath,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+To common Fidlers I _Will_ that they,
+  Shall go in poor and thread-bare Coats;
+And at most places where they Play,
+  To carry away more _Tunes_ than _Groats_:
+To wand'ring _Players_ I do give,
+  Before their _Substance_ be all spent;
+Proud Silk'n _Beggars_ for to live,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+To _Wenching_ Smell-smocks give I these,
+  Dead looks, gaunt purrs, and crasy Back;
+And now and then the foul _Disease_,
+  Such as _Gill_ gave to _Jack_;
+To _Parretors_ I give them clear,
+  For all their _Toil_ and _Travel_ spent;
+The _Devil_ away such _Knaves_ to bear,
+  By _this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+I _Will_ that _Cutpurses_ haunt all _Fairs_,
+  And thrust among the thickest Throng;
+That neither _Purse_ nor _Pocket_ spare,
+  But what they get to bear along:
+But if they Falter in their Trade,
+  And so betray their bad intent;
+I give them _Tyburn_ for their share,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+To serving Men I give this Gift,
+  That when their Strength is once decay'd;
+The Master of such Men do shift,
+  As Horsemen do a toothless _Jade_:
+_Item._ I give them leave to _Pine_,
+  For all their Service so ill spent:
+And with _Duke Humphry_ for to Dine,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+_Item._ To _Millers_ I Grant withal,
+  That they Spare, nor Poke, nor Sack;
+But with _Grist_, so e'er befal,
+  They Grind a Strike, and steal a Peck:
+I _Will_ that _Butchers_ Huff their Meat,
+  And sell a lump of _Ramish_ scent;
+For Weather Mutton good and sweet,
+  _By this_, &c.
+
+I _Will_ Ale Wives punish their Guests,
+  With hungry Cakes and little Canns;
+And Barm their Drink with new found _Yeest_,
+  Such as is made of _Pispot_ Grounds:
+And she that meaneth for to Gain,
+  And in her House have Money spent,
+I _Will_ she keep a pretty Punck,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+To jealous Husbands I do grant,
+  Lack of Pleasure, want of Sleep;
+That Lanthorn Horns they never want,
+  Tho' ne'er so close their Wives they keep:
+And for their Wives, I _Will_ that they,
+  The closer up that they are pent;
+The closer still they seek to Play,
+  _By this my_ Will _and_ Testament.
+
+For Swearing _Swaggerers_ nought is left,
+  To give them for a parting Blow;
+But leaving off of damned Oaths,
+  And that of them I will bestow:
+_Item._ I give them for their Pain,
+  That when all Hope and Livelihood's spent,
+A Wallet or a Hempen Chain,
+  _By this_ &c.
+
+Time and longest Livers do I make,
+  The Supervisor of my _Will_:
+My Gold and Silver let them take,
+  That will dig for't in _Malvein_ Hill.
+
+
+
+
+_A New_ SONG, _Sung at the Playhouse. By Mr._ DOGGET.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In the Devil's Country there lately did dwell,
+  A crew of such Whores as was ne'er bred in Hell,
+The Devil himself he knows it full well,
+  _Which no Body can deny, deny;_
+  _Which no Body can deny._
+
+There were Six of the Gang, and all of a Bud,
+Which open'd as soon as got into the Blood,
+There are five to be hang'd, when the other proves good,
+  _Which no Body_, &c.
+
+But it seems they have hitherto sav'd all their Lives,
+Since they cou'd not live honest, there's four made Wives,
+The other two they are not Marry'd but Sw----s,
+  _Which no Body_, &c.
+
+The Eldest the Matron of t'other Five Imps,
+Though as Chast as _Diana_, or any o'th' Nymphs,
+Yet rather than Daughter shall want it, she Pimps,
+  _Which no Body_, &c.
+
+Damn'd Proud and Ambitious both Old and the Young,
+And not fit for honest Men to come among,
+A damn'd Itch in their Tail, and a sting in their Tongue,
+  _Sing tantara rara Whores all, Whores all,_
+  _Sing tantara rara Whores all._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Marriage it seems is for Better for Worse,
+Some count it a Blessing and others a Curse;
+The Cuckolds are Blest if the Proverb prove true,
+And then there's no doubt but in Heav'n there's enough:
+Of honest rich Rogues who ne'er had got there,
+If their Wives had not sent them thro' trembling and fear.
+
+Some Women are Honest, tho' rare in a Wife,
+Yet with Scolding and Brawling they'll shorten your Life,
+You ne'er can enjoy your Bottle and Friend;
+But your Wife like an Imp, is at your Elbow's end:
+Crying fie, fie you Sot, come, come, come, come,
+So these are Unhappy abroad and at home.
+
+We find the Batchelor liveth best,
+Tho' Drunk or Sober he takes his rest;
+He never is troubl'd with Scolding or Strife,
+'Tis the best can be said of a very good Wife:
+But merrily Day and Night does spend,
+Enjoying his Mistress, Bottle, and Friend.
+
+A Woman out-wits us, do what we can,
+She'll make a Fool of ev'ry Wise Man;
+Old Mother _Eve_ did the _Serpent_ obey,
+And has taught all her Sex that damnable way:
+Of Cheating and Couzening all Mankind,
+'Twere better if _Adam_ had still been Blind.
+
+The poor Man that Marries he thinks he does well,
+I pity's Condition, for sure he's in Hell;
+The Fool is a Sotting and spends all he gets,
+The Child is a Bawling, the Wife daily Frets:
+That Marriage is pleasant we all must agree,
+Consider it well, there's none happier can be.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+The _Caffalier_ was gone, and the _Roundhead_ he was come,
+Was the greatest Blessing under the Sun;
+Before the Devil in Hell sally'd out, and ript the Placket of Letter,
+Ay, and take her Money too,
+  _Cot bless hur Master_ Roundhead, _and send hur well to do._
+
+Now hur can go to _Shrewsperry_ her Flannel for to sell,
+Hur can carry a creat sharge of Money about hur,
+Thirty or Forty Groats lap'd in a _Welsh_ Carter,
+Ay, and think hur self rich too,
+  _Cot bless_, &c.
+
+Now hur can coe to Shurch, or hur can stay at home,
+Hur can say hur _Lord's Prayer_, or hur can let it alone:
+Hur can make a Prayer of hur own Head, lye with hur Holy Sister,
+Ay, and say a long Crace too,
+  _Cot bless_, &c.
+
+But yet for all the great Cood that you for hur have done,
+Would you wou'd made Peace with our King, and let hur come home,
+Put off the Military Charge, Impost, and Excise,
+Ay, and free Quarter too.
+  _Then Cot shall bless you Master_ Roundhead, _and send hur well to do._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _Sung by Mrs._ CROSS. _Set by Mr._ JEREMIAH CLARK.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Divine _Astrea_ hither flew,
+  To _Cynthia's_ brighter Throne;
+She left the Iron World below,
+  To bless the Silver Moon:
+_She left the Iron World below,_
+  _To bless the Silver Moon._
+
+Tho' _Phoebus_ with his hotter Beams,
+  Do's Gold in Earth Create;
+That leads those wretches to Extreams,
+  Of Av'rice, Lust, and Hate.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the_ Surpriz'd Lovers. _Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _Sung by
+Mr._ BOWMAN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When first I saw her charming Face,
+Her taking Shape and moving Grace;
+My Rosie Cheeks, my Rosie Cheeks did glow with heat,
+My Heart and my Pulse did beat, beat, beat,
+My Heart and my Pulse did beat;
+I wish'd for a, I wish'd for a, do you, do you guess what,
+Do you guess what makes Soldiers fight,
+Soldiers Fight, and States-men Plot.
+
+Subdues us all in every thing,
+And makes, makes a Subject of a King;
+Still she deny'd, and I reply'd,
+Away she flew, I did pursue,
+  At last I catch'd her fast;
+But oh! had you seen, but oh! had you seen,
+Had you seen what had past between;
+Oh! I fear, I fear, oh! I fear, I fear, oh! I fear,
+I fear, I fear, I have spoil'd her Wast.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ AKEROYD.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+The _Devil_ he pull'd of his Jacket of Flame,
+  The _Fryer_ he pull'd off his Cowle;
+The _Devil_ took him for a Dunce of the Game,
+  And the _Fryer_ took him for a Fool:
+He piqu'd, and repiqu'd so oft, that at last,
+  He swore by the Jolly fat _Nuns_;
+If Cards came no better than those that are past,
+  Oh! oh! I shall lose all my _Buns_.
+
+
+
+
+_A New_ SONG. _Translated from the_ FRENCH.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Pretty Parret say, when I was away,
+And in dull absence pass'd the Day;
+  What at home was doing;
+    With Chat and Play,
+    We are Gay,
+    Night and Day,
+Good Chear and Mirth Renewing;
+_Singing, Laughing all, Singing Laughing all, like pretty pretty_ Poll.
+
+Was no Fop so rude, boldly to Intrude,
+And like a sawcy Lover wou'd,
+  Court, and Teaze my Lady:
+    A Thing you know,
+    Made for Show,
+    Call'd a Beau,
+Near her was always ready,
+_Ever at her call, like pretty, pretty_ Poll.
+
+Tell me with what Air, he approach'd the Fair,
+And how she could with Patience bear,
+  All he did and utter'd;
+    He still address'd,
+    Still caress'd,
+    Kiss'd and press'd,
+  Sung, Prattl'd, Laugh'd, and Flutter'd:
+_Well receiv'd in all, like pretty, pretty_ Poll.
+
+Did he go away, at the close of the Day,
+Or did he ever use to stay
+  In a Corner dodging;
+    The want of Light,
+    When 'twas Night,
+    Spoil'd my sight,
+  But I believe his Lodging,
+_Was within her call, like pretty, pretty_ Poll.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _by a Person of Honour. Set by Mr._ JOHN WELDON.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+At Noon in a sultry Summer's Day,
+The brightest Lady of the _May_,
+Young _Chloris_ Innocent and Gay,
+    Sat Knotting in a shade:
+Each slender Finger play'd its part,
+With such activity and Art;
+As wou'd inflame a Youthful Heart,
+    And warm the most decay'd.
+
+Her Fav'rite Swain by chance came by;
+She had him quickly in her Eye,
+Yet when the bashful Boy drew nigh,
+    She wou'd have seem'd afraid,
+She let her Iv'ry Needle fall,
+And hurl'd away the twisted Ball;
+Then gave her _Strephon_ such a call,
+    As wou'd have wak'd the Dead.
+
+Dear gentle Youth is't none but thee?
+With Innocence I dare be free;
+By so much Trust and Modesty,
+    No Nymph was e'er betray'd,
+Come lean thy Head upon my Lap,
+While thy soft Cheeks I stroak and clap;
+Thou may'st securely take a Nap,
+    Which he poor Fool, obey'd.
+
+She saw him Yawn, and heard him Snore,
+And found him fast a sleep all o're;
+She sigh'd ---- and cou'd no more,
+    But starting up she said,
+Such Vertue shou'd rewarded be,
+For this thy dull Fidelity;
+I'll trust thee with my Flocks, not me,
+    Pursue thy Grazing Trade.
+
+Go milk thy Goats, and Sheer thy Sheep,
+And watch all Night thy Flocks, to keep;
+Thou shalt no more be lull'd asleep,
+    By me mistaken Maid.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Jeremy Clark.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+While the Lover is thinking,
+    With my Friend I'll be Drinking
+And with Vigour pursue my Delight;
+    While the Fool is designing,
+    His fatal confining,
+With _Bacchus_ I'll spend the whole Night:
+    With the God I'll be Jolly,
+    Without Madness or Folly.
+Fickle Woman to Marry Implore,
+    Leave my Bottle and Friend,
+    For so Foolish an end,
+When I do, may I never Drink more.
+
+
+
+
+_A Health to the_ TACKERS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Here's a Health to the Tackers, my Boys,
+  But mine A----se for the Tackers about;
+May the brave _English_ Spirits come in,
+  And the Knaves and _Fanaticks_ turn out:
+Since the _Magpyes_ of late, are confounding the State,
+  And wou'd pull our Establishments down;
+Let us make 'em a Jest, for they Shit in their Nest,
+  And be true to the Church and the Crown.
+
+Let us chuse such Parliament Men
+  As have stuck to their Principles tight;
+And wou'd not their Country betray
+  In the Story of _Ashby_ and _White_:
+Who care not a T----d, for a _Whig_, or a Lord,
+  That won't see our Accounts fairly stated;
+For _C----ll_ ne'er fears, the Address of those Peers,
+  Who the Nation of Millions have Cheated.
+
+The next thing adviseable is,
+  Since _Schism_ so strangely abounds;
+To oppose e'ery Man that's set up
+  By _Dissenters_, in Corporate Towns:
+For _High-Church_, and _Low-Church_, has brought us to no _Church_,
+  And Conscience so bubbl'd the Nation;
+For who is not still for Conformity Bill,
+  Will be surely a R---- on Occasion.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ ANTHONY YOUNG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Since _Caelia_ only has the Art,
+And only she can Captivate,
+  And wanton in my Breast;
+All other Pleasure I despise,
+Than what are from my _Caelia's_ Eyes,
+  In her alone I'm blest.
+
+Whene'er she Smiles, new Life she gives,
+And happy, happy who receives,
+  From her Inchanting Breath;
+Then prithee _Caelia_ smile once more,
+Since I no longer must adore,
+  For when you frown 'tis Death.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Ah! how lovely sweet and dear,
+Is the kind relenting Fair,
+Who Reprieve us in Despair;
+Oh! that thus my Nymph wou'd say,
+Come, come my Dear thy Cares repay,
+Be Blest my Love, be mine to Day:
+  _Come, come my dear, thy Cares repay,_
+  _Be blest my Love, be mine to Day._
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Sung by Mrs._ Bracegirdle.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Advance, advance, advance gay Tenants of the Plain,
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain,
+        Loud Eccho spread my Voice,
+        Loud Eccho spread my Voice,
+Loud Eccho, loud Eccho, loud Eccho,
+Loud Eccho, loud Eccho, spread my Voice,
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain,
+Advance, advance, advance, gay Tenants of the Plain.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ KING _and the Shepherd, and_ GILLIAN _the Shepherd's Wife, with
+her churlish Answer to the_ KING.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+In Elder Time, there was of Yore,
+  When Guides of churlish Glee;
+Were us'd among our Country Earls,
+  Though no such thing now be.
+
+The which King _Alfred_ liking well,
+  Forsook his stately Court;
+And in Disguise unknown went forth,
+  To see that jovial Sport.
+
+How _Dick_ and _Tom_, in clouted Shoon,
+  And Coats of russet Grey,
+Esteem'd themselves more brave than them,
+  That went in Golden ray.
+
+In Garments fit for such a Life,
+  The good King _Alfred_ went,
+All ragg'd and torn, as from his Back
+  The Beggar his Cloaths had rent.
+
+A Sword and Buckler good and strong,
+  To give _Jack Sauce_ a rap;
+And on his Head, instead of Crown,
+  He wore a _Monmouth_ Cap.
+
+Thus coasting through _Somersetshire_,
+  Near _Newton_ Court he met
+A Shepherd Swain of lusty Limb,
+  That up and down did jet.
+
+He wore a Bonnet of good Grey,
+  Close buttoned to his Chin;
+And at his Back a leather Scrip,
+  With much good Meat therein.
+
+God speed, good Shepherd, quoth the King,
+  I come to be thy Guest;
+To taste of thy good Victuals here,
+  And drink that's of the best.
+
+Thy Scrip I know, hath Cheer good store,
+  What then the Shepherd said?
+Thou seem'st to be some sturdy Thief,
+  And mak'st me sore afraid.
+
+Yet if thou wilt thy Dinner win,
+  The Sword and Buckler take;
+And if thou canst into my Scrip,
+  Therewith an entrance make.
+
+I tell thee, Roister, it hath store
+  Of Beef, and Bacon fat;
+With sheafs of Barly-bread to make
+  Thy Mouth to water at.
+
+Here stands my Bottle, here my Bag,
+  If thou canst win them Roister;
+Against the Sword and Buckler here,
+  My Sheep-hook is my Master.
+
+_Benedicit_ now, quoth our good King,
+  It never shall be said;
+That _Alfred_ of the Shepherd's Hook,
+  Will stand a whit afraid.
+
+So soundly thus they both fell to't,
+  And giving Bang for Bang;
+At every Blow the Shepherd gave,
+  King _Alfred's_ Sword cry'd twang.
+
+His Buckler prov'd his chiefest Fence,
+  For still the Shepherd's Hook;
+Was that the which King _Alfred_ could,
+  In no good manner brook.
+
+At last when they had fought four Hours,
+  And it grew just Mid-day;
+And wearied both, with right good Will,
+  Desir'd each others stay.
+
+King, Truce I cry, quoth _Alfred_ then,
+  Good Shepherd hold thy Hand:
+A sturdier Fellow than thy self,
+  Lives not within this Land.
+
+Nor a lustier Roister than thou art,
+  The churlish Shepherd said,
+To tell thee plain, thy Thievish looks,
+  Now makes my Heart afraid.
+
+Else sure thou art some Prodigal,
+  Which hast consum'd thy store;
+And now com'st wand'ring in this place,
+  To rob and steal for more.
+
+Deem not of me, then quoth our King,
+  Good Shepherd in this sort;
+A Gentleman well known I am,
+  In good King _Alfred's_ Court.
+
+The Devil thou art, the Shepherd said,
+  Thou goest in Rags all torn;
+Thou rather seem'st, I think to be,
+  Some Beggar basely born.
+
+But if thou wilt mend thy Estate,
+  And here a Shepherd be;
+At Night to _Gillian_ my sweet Wife,
+  Thou shalt go home with me.
+
+For she's as good a Toothless Dame,
+  As mumbleth on Brown Bread;
+Where thou shalt lie on hurden Sheets,
+  Upon a fresh Straw Bed.
+
+Of Whig and Whey, we have good store,
+  And keep good Pease-straw Fires;
+And now and then good Barly Cakes,
+  As better Days requires.
+
+But for my Master which is Chief,
+  And Lord of _Newton_ Court;
+He keeps I say, his Shepherds Swains,
+  In far more braver sort.
+
+We there have Curds, and clouted Cream,
+  Of Red Cows morning Milk;
+And now and then fine Buttered Cakes,
+  As soft as any Silk.
+
+Of Beef and reised Bacon store,
+  That is most Fat and Greasy;
+We have likewise to feast our Chaps,
+  And make them glib and easie.
+
+Thus if thou wilt my Man become,
+  This usage thou shalt have;
+If not, adieu, go hang thy self,
+  And so farewel Sir Knave.
+
+King _Alfred_ hearing of this Glee,
+  The churlish Shepherd said;
+Was well content to be his Man,
+  So they a Bargain made.
+
+A Penny round, the Shepherd gave,
+  In earnest of this Match;
+To keep his Sheep in Field and fold,
+  As Shepherds use to watch.
+
+His Wages shall be full Ten Groats,
+  For Service of a Year;
+Yet was it not his use, old Lad,
+  To hire a Man so dear.
+
+For did the King himself (quoth he)
+  Unto my Cottage come;
+He should not for a Twelvemonths Pay,
+  Receive a greater Sum.
+
+Hereat the bonny King grew blith,
+  To hear the clownish Jest;
+How silly sots, as custom is,
+  Do discant at the best.
+
+But not to spoil the Foolish sport,
+  He was content good King;
+To fit the Shepherd's humour right,
+  In every kind of thing.
+
+A Sheep-hook then, with _Patch_ his Dog,
+  And Tar-box by his side;
+He with his Master, jig by jowl,
+  Unto old _Gillian_ hy'd.
+
+Into whose sight no sooner came,
+  Whom have you here (quoth she)
+A Fellow I doubt, will cut our Throats,
+  So like a Knave looks he.
+
+Not so old Dame, quoth _Alfred_ strait,
+  Of me you need not fear;
+My Master hir'd me for Ten Groats,
+  To serve you one whole Year.
+
+So good Dame _Gillian_ grant me leave,
+  Within your House to stay;
+For by St. _Ann_, do what you can,
+  I will not yet away.
+
+Her churlish usage pleas'd him still,
+  Put him to such a Proof,
+That he at Night was almost choak'd,
+  Within that smoaky Roof.
+
+But as he sat with smiling cheer,
+  The event of all to see;
+His Dame brought forth a piece of Dow,
+  Which in the Fire throws she.
+
+Where lying on the Hearth to bake,
+  By chance the Cake did burn;
+What can'st thou not, thou Lout (quoth she)
+  Take Pains the same to turn:
+
+Thou art more quick to take it out,
+  And eat it up half Dow,
+Than thus to stay till't be enough,
+  And so thy Manners show.
+
+But serve me such another Trick,
+  I'll thwack thee on the Snout;
+Which made the patient King, good Man,
+  Of her to stand in Doubt:
+
+But to be brief, to bed they went,
+  The good old Man and's Wife;
+But never such a Lodging had
+  King _Alfred_ in his Life:
+
+For he was laid in white Sheeps Wool,
+  New pull'd from tanned Fells,
+And o'er his Head hang'd Spiders Webbs,
+  As if they had been Bells.
+
+Is this the Country Guise, thought he,
+  Then here I will not stay;
+But hence be gone as soon as breaks
+  The peeping of the Day.
+
+The cackling Hens and Geese kept roost,
+  And perched at his side;
+Whereat the last the watchful Cock,
+  Made known the Morning Tide.
+
+Then up got _Alfred_ with his Horn,
+  And blew so long a Blast,
+That made _Gillian_ and her Groom,
+  In Bed full sore agast.
+
+Arise, quoth she, we are undone,
+  This Night, we lodged have,
+At unawares within our House,
+  A false dissembling Knave;
+
+Rise Husband, rise, he'll cut our Throats,
+  He calleth for his Mates,
+I'd give old _Will_ our good Cade Lamb,
+  He would depart our Gates.
+
+But still King _Alfred_ blew his Horn
+  before them, more and more,
+'Till that a hundred Lords and Knights,
+  All lighted at the Door:
+
+Which cry'd all hail, all hail good King,
+  Long have we look'd your Grace;
+And here you find (my merry Men all)
+  Your Sovereign in this place.
+
+We shall surely be hang'd up both,
+  Old _Gillian_ I much fear,
+The Shepherd said, for using thus
+  Our good King _Alfred_ here:
+
+O pardon, my Liege, quoth _Gillian_ then,
+  For my Husband and for me,
+By these ten Bones I never thought
+  The same that now I see:
+
+And by my Hook, the Shepherd said,
+  An Oath both good and true,
+Before this time, O noble King,
+  I never your Highness knew:
+
+Then pardon me and my old Wife,
+  That we may after say,
+When first you came into our House,
+  It was a happy Day.
+
+It shall be done, said _Alfred_ streight,
+  And _Gillian_ thy old Dame,
+For this thy churlish using me,
+  Deserveth not much Blame.
+
+For this thy Country Guise I see,
+  To be thus bluntish still,
+And where the plainest Meaning is,
+  Remains the smallest Ill.
+
+And Master, lo I tell thee now,
+  For thy low Manhood shown,
+A Thousand Weathers I'll bestow
+  Upon thee for thy own.
+
+And pasture Ground, as much as will
+  Suffice to feed them all,
+And this thy Cottage I will change
+  Into a stately Hall.
+
+As for the same, as Duty binds,
+  The Shepherd said, good King,
+A milk white Lamb once every Year,
+  I'll to your Highness bring.
+
+And _Gillian_ my Wife likewise,
+  Of Wool to make you Coats,
+Will give you as much at New Year's Tide,
+  As shall be worth ten Groats:
+
+And in your Praise my Bagpipe shall
+  Sound sweetly once a Year,
+How _Alfred_ our renowned King,
+  Most kindly hath been here.
+
+Thanks Shepherd, thanks, quoth he again
+  The next time I come hither,
+My Lords with me here in this House,
+  Will all be merry together.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Sung by Mrs._ Bracegirdle.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Cease, cease of _Cupid_ to complain,
+Love, Love's a Joy even while a Pain;
+Oh! then think! oh! then think;
+Oh! then think how great his Blisses,
+Moving Glances, balmy Kisses,
+Charming Raptures, matchless Sweets,
+Love, Love alone, Love, Love alone,
+Love, Love alone, all Joys compleats.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Sung by Mrs._ BRACEGIRDLE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Come, come ye Nymphs,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain,
+_Galatea_ leaves the Main,
+To revive us on the Plain,
+To revive us, to revive us, to revive us on the Plain;
+Come, come, come, come ye Nymphs,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain,
+_Galatea_ leaves the Main,
+To revive us on the Plain,
+To revive us on the Plain,
+Come ye Nymphs and ev'ry Swain.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ John Barret.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Ianthia_ the lovely, the Joy of her Swain,
+By _Iphis_ was lov'd, and lov'd _Iphis_ again;
+She liv'd in the Youth, and the Youth in the Fair,
+Their Pleasure was equal, and equal their Care;
+No Time, no Enjoyment their Dotage withdrew;
+But the longer they liv'd, but the longer they liv'd,
+    Still the fonder they grew.
+
+A Passion so happy alarm'd all the Plain,
+Some envy'd the Nymph, but more envy'd the Swain;
+Some swore 'twould be pity their Loves to invade,
+That the Lovers alone for each other was made:
+But all, all consented, that none ever knew,
+A Nymph yet so kind, a Nymph yet so kind,
+    Or a Shepherd so true.
+
+Love saw 'em with Pleasure, and vow'd to take care
+Of the faithful, the tender, the innocent Pair;
+What either did want, he bid either to move,
+But they wanted nothing, but ever to love:
+Said, 'twas all that to bless him his God-head cou'd do,
+That they still might be kind, that they still might be kind,
+    And they still might be true.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Bring out your Coney-Skins
+Bring out your Coney-Skins Maids to me,
+  And hold them fair that I may see,
+Grey, Black and Blue, for the smaller Skins
+I'll give you Bracelets, Laces, Pins,
+  And for your whole Coney
+  Here's ready Money,
+Come gentle _Joan_, do thou begin
+With thy black Coney, thy black Coney-Skin,
+  And _Mary_ and _Joan_ will follow,
+  With their Silver-hair'd Skins and yellow;
+The White Coney-Skin I will not lay by,
+For tho' it be faint, it is fair to the Eye:
+The Grey it is worn, but yet for my Money,
+Give me the bonny, bonny black Coney;
+Come away fair Maids, your Skins will decay,
+Come and take Money Maids, put your Wares away:
+Ha'ye any Coney-Skins, ha'ye any Coney-Skins,
+Ha'ye any Coney-Skins here to sell?
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_The Words by Mr._ Clossold, _Set by Mr._ John WILFORD.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Nay pish, nay pish, nay pish Sir, what ails you;
+  Lord! What is't you do?
+I ne'er met with one so uncivil as you;
+You may think as you please, but if Evil it be,
+I wou'd have you to know, you're mistaken in me.
+You Men now so rude, and so boistrous are grown,
+A Woman can't trust her self with you alone:
+I cannot but wonder what 'tis that shou'd move ye;
+If you do so again, I swear, I swear, I swear, I swear,
+  I swear I won't love ye.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Motley.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Draw _Cupid_ draw, and make fair _Sylvia_ know;
+The mighty Pain her suff'ring Swain does for her undergo;
+Convey this Dart into her Heart, and when she's set on Fire,
+Do thou return and let her burn, like me in chast desire;
+That by Experience she, may learn to pity me,
+Whene'er her Eyes do tyrannize o'er my Captivity:
+But when in Love we jointly move, and tenderly imbrace,
+Like Angels shine, and sweetly join to one another's Face.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG; _The Words by a Person of a Quality. Set to Musick by Mr._
+Robert Cary.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Some brag of their _Chloris_, and some of their _Phillis_,
+Some cry up their _Caelia_, and bright _Amaryllis_:
+Thus Poets and Lovers their Mistresses dub,
+And Goddesses fram'd from the Wash-bowl and Tub;
+But away with these Fictions, and Counterfeit Folly:
+There's a thousand more Charms in the Name of my _Dolly_.
+
+I cannot describe you her Beauty and Wit,
+Like Manna to each she's a relishing Bit;
+She alone by Enjoyment, the more does prevail,
+And still with fresh Pleasures does hoist up your Sail:
+Nay, had you a Surfeit, but took of all others,
+One Look from my _Dolly_ your Stomach recovers.
+
+
+
+
+_The Mountebank_ SONG. _Sung by Dr._ LEVERIGO, _and his merry Andrew_
+Pinkanello, _in_ Farewel to Folly. _Set by Mr._ LEVERIDGE.
+
+
+[Music:
+
+Here are People and Sports
+of all sizes and sorts,
+Coach'd Damsel with Squire,
+and Mob in the Mire,
+Tarpaulins, Trugmallions,
+Lords, Ladys, Sows,
+Babies, and Loobys in Scores.
+Some howling, some Bawling,
+some Leering, some Fleering,
+some Loving, some Shoving,
+with Legions of Furbelow'd Whores.
+
+To the Tavern, some go,
+and some to a Show,
+see Poppets for Moppets,
+Jack-puddings, for Cuddens,
+Rope Dancing, Mares Prancing,
+Boats flying, Quacks lying,
+Pick-pockets, pick Plackets,
+Beasts, Butchers, and Beaus.
+
+Fops prat'ling, Dies rat'ling,
+Rooks shaming, Puts Daming,
+Whores Painted, Mask's tainted,
+in Tallymans Furbelow'd Cloaths.
+
+The Mobs Joys would you know
+to yon Musick-house go,
+see Tailors, and Saylors,
+Whores Oily in Doily,
+hear Musick, makes you sick:
+Cows Skipping, Clowns tripping,
+some Joaking, some Smoaking, like Spiggit and Tap;
+short Measure, strange Pleasure
+thus Billing, and Swilling,
+some yearly, get fairly,
+for Fairings Pig, Pork, and a Clap.]
+
+
+
+
+_The Mountebank_ SONG. _Set and Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE, _in a New Play
+call'd_, Farewel to Folly.
+
+
+[Music:
+
+See, Sirs, see here! a Doctor rare, who travels much at home!
+Here take my Bills, take my Bills,
+I cure all Ills, past, present, and to come;
+the Cramp, the Stitch, the Squirt, the Itch,
+the Gout, the Stone, the Pox,
+the Mulligrubs, the Bonny Scrubs,
+and all, all, all, all, all, _Pandora's_ Box;
+Thousands I've Dissected, Thousands new erected,
+and such Cures effected, as none e'er can tell.
+
+Let the Palsie shake ye, let the Chollick rack ye,
+let the Crinkums break ye, let the Murrain take ye;
+Take this, take this and you are well.
+Thousands, &c.
+
+Come Wits so keen, devour'd with Spleen;
+come Beaus who sprain'd your Backs,
+Great-belly'd Maids, old founder'd Jades,
+and Pepper'd Vizard Cracks.
+
+I soon remove the pains of Love,
+and cure the Love-sick Maid;
+the Hot, the Cold, the Young,
+the Old, the Living and the Dead.
+
+I clear the Lass with Wainscot Face,
+and from Pim-ginets free,
+Plump Ladies Red, like _Saracen's_-head,
+with toaping Rattafe.
+
+This with a Jirk, will do your work,
+and scour you o're and o're,
+Read, Judge and Try, and if you die,
+never believe me more,
+never, never, never, never, never believe me more.]
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the_ Mock Marriage. _Sung by Mrs._ KNIGHT. _Set by Mr._
+Henry Purcell.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Oh! how you protest and solemnly swear,
+  Look humble, and fawn like an Ass;
+I'm pleas'd, I must own, when ever I see
+  A Lover that's brought to this pass.
+Keep, keep further off, you're naughty I fear,
+  I vow I will never, will never, will never yield to't;
+You ask me in vain; for never I swear,
+  I never, no never, I never, no never,
+I never, no never will do't.
+
+For when the Deed's done, how quickly you go,
+  No more of the Lover remains,
+In hast you depart, whate'er we can do,
+  And stubbornly throw off your Chains:
+Desist then in time, let's hear on't no more,
+  I vow I will never yield to't;
+You promise in vain, in vain you adore,
+  For I will never, no never will do't.
+
+
+
+
+JOCKEY'S _Lamentation._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Jockey_ met with _Jenny_ fair
+  Betwixt the dawning and the Day,
+And _Jockey_ now is full of Care,
+  For _Jenny_ stole his Heart away:
+Altho' she promis'd to be true,
+  Yet she, alas, has prov'd unkind,
+That which do make poor _Jenny_ rue,
+  For _Jenny's_ fickle as the Wind:
+And, _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_The Wind has blown my Plad away._
+
+_Jockey_ was a bonny Lad,
+  As e'er was born in _Scotland_ fair;
+But now poor _Jockey_ is run mad,
+  For _Jenny_ causes his Despair;
+_Jockey_ was a Piper's Son,
+  And fell in Love while he was young:
+But all the Tunes that he could play,
+  Was, _o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+And, _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills and far away,_
+_The Wind has blown my Plad away._
+
+When first I saw my _Jenny's_ Face,
+She did appear with sike a Grace,
+With muckle Joy my Heart was fill'd;
+But now alas with Sorrow kill'd.
+
+Oh! was she but as true as fair,
+  'Twou'd put an end to my Despair;
+But ah, alass! this is unkind,
+  Which sore does terrify my Mind;
+_'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_That_ Jenny _stole my Heart away._
+
+Did she but feel the dismal Woe
+  That for her Sake I undergo,
+She surely then would grant Relief,
+  And put an end to all my Grief:
+But oh, she is as false as fair,
+  Which causes all my sad Despair;
+She triumphs in a proud Disdain,
+  And takes Delight to see my Pain;
+_'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.
+
+Hard was my Hap to fall in Love,
+  With one that does so faithless prove;
+Hard was my fate to court the Maid,
+  That has my constant Heart betray'd:
+A thousand times to me she swore,
+  She would be true for evermore:
+But oh! alas, with Grief I say,
+  She's stole my Heart, and ran away;
+_'Twas o'er the Hills_, &c.
+
+Good gentle _Cupid_ take my part,
+  And pierce this false one to the Heart,
+That she may once but feel the Woe,
+  As I for her do undergo;
+Oh! make her feel this raging Pain,
+  That for her Love I do sustain;
+She sure would then more gentle be,
+  And soon repent her Cruelty;
+_'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.
+
+I now must wander for her sake,
+  Since that she will no Pity take,
+Into the Woods and shady Grove,
+  And bid adieu to my false Love:
+Since she is false whom I adore,
+  I ne'er will trust a Woman more,
+From all their Charms I'll fly away,
+  And on my Pipe will sweetly play;
+_'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.
+
+There by my self I'll sing and say,
+  _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away_,
+That my poor Heart is gone astray,
+  Which makes me grieve both Night and Day;
+Farewel, farewel, thou cruel she,
+  I fear that I shall die for thee:
+But if I live, this Vow I'll make,
+  To love no other for your sake.
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_
+_The Wind has blown my Plad away._
+
+
+
+
+The Recruiting Officer: _Or_, The Merry Volunteers: _Being an
+Excellent New Copy of Verses upon raising Recruits._
+
+_To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+Hark! now the Drums beat up again,
+For all true Soldiers Gentlemen,
+Then let us list, and march I say,
+Over the Hills and far away;
+Over the Hills and o'er the Main,
+To _Flanders_, _Portugal_ and _Spain_,
+Queen _Ann_ commands, and we'll obey,
+_Over the Hills and far away_.
+
+All Gentlemen that have a Mind,
+To serve the Queen that's good and kind;
+Come list and enter into Pay,
+Then o'er the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Here's Forty Shillings on the Drum,
+For those that Volunteers do come,
+With Shirts, and Cloaths, and present Pay,
+When o'er the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Hear that brave Boys, and let us go,
+Or else we shall be prest you know;
+Then list and enter into Pay,
+And o'er the Hills and far away,
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+The Constables they search about,
+To find such brisk young Fellows out;
+Then let's be Volunteers I say,
+Over the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Since now the _French_ so low are brought,
+And Wealth and Honour's to be got,
+Who then behind wou'd sneaking stay?
+When o'er the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+No more from sound of Drum retreat,
+While _Marlborough_, and _Gallaway_ beat,
+The _French_ and _Spaniards_ every Day,
+When over the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+He that is forc'd to go and fight,
+Will never get true Honour by't,
+While Volunteers shall win the Day,
+When o'er the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+What tho' our Friends our Absence mourn,
+We all with Honour shall return;
+And then we'll sing both Night and Day,
+Over the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+The Prentice _Tom_ he may refuse,
+To wipe his angry Master's Shoes;
+For then he's free to sing and play,
+Over the Hills and far away;
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Over Rivers, Bogs, and Springs,
+We all shall live as great as Kings,
+And Plunder get both Night and Day,
+When over the Hills and far away,
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+We then shall lead more happy Lives,
+By getting rid of Brats and Wives,
+That Scold on both Night and Day,
+When o'er the Hills and far away:
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+Come on then Boys and you shall see,
+We every one shall Captains be,
+To Whore and rant as well as they,
+When o'er the Hills and far away:
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+For if we go 'tis one to Ten,
+But we return all Gentlemen,
+All Gentlemen as well as they,
+When o'er the Hills and far away:
+  _Over the Hills_, &c.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG. _Set by Mr._ JOHN BARRETT.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Ah! foolish Lass, what mun I do?
+My Modesty I well may rue,
+  Which of my Joy bereft me;
+For full of Love he came,
+But out of silly shame,
+With pish and phoo I play'd,
+To muckle the coy Maid,
+  And the raw young Loon has left me.
+
+Wou'd _Jockey_ knew how muckle I lue,
+Did I less Art, or did he shew,
+  More Nature, how bleast I'd be;
+I'd not have reason to complain,
+That I lue'd now in vain,
+Gen he more a Man was,
+I'd be less a coy Lass,
+  Had the raw young Loon weel try'd me.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the Comedy call'd_ Justice Buisy, _or the_ Gentleman
+Quack: _Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _Sung by Mrs._ Bracegirdle.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+No, no ev'ry Morning my Beauties renew,
+Where-ever I go, I have Lovers enough;
+I Dress and I Dance, and I Laugh and I Sing,
+Am lovely and lively, and gay as the Spring:
+I Visit, I Game, and I cast away Care,
+Mind Lovers no more, than the Birds of the Air,
+Mind Lovers no more, than the Birds of the Air.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ WILLIS.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Now my Freedom's regain'd, and by _Bacchus_ I swear,
+All whining dull whimsys of Love I'll cashire:
+The Charm's more engaging in Bumpers of Wine,
+Then let _Chloe_ be Damn'd, but let this be Divine:
+Whilst Youth warms thy Veins, Boy embrace thy full Glasses,
+Damn _Cupid_ and all his poor Proselyte Asses;
+Let this be thy rule _Tom_, to square out thy Life,
+And when Old in a Friend, thou'lt live free from all Strife,
+Only envied by him that is plagu'd with a Wife.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG, _the Words by Mr._ Peter Noble, _Set by Mr._ John
+Wilford.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Bonny _Scottish_ Lads that keens me weel,
+  Lith ye what, ye what good Luck Ise fun;
+_Moggey_ is mine own in spight o'th' De'el,
+  I alone her Heart has won:
+Near St. _Andrew's_ Kirk in _London_ Town,
+  There Ise, Ise met my Dearest Joy;
+Shinening in her Silken Hued and Gown,
+  But ne'er ack, ne'er ack she prov'd not Coy.
+
+Then after many Compliments,
+  Streight we gang'd into the Kirk;
+There full weel she tuck the documents,
+  And flang me many pleasing Smirk:
+Weel I weat that I have gear enough,
+  She's have a Yode to ride ont;
+She's neither drive the Swine, nor the Plough,
+  Whatever does betide ont.
+
+
+
+
+_A New_ SONG _in the Play call'd_, a DUKE and no DUKE. _Sung by Mrs._
+CIBBER.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Damon_ if you will believe me,
+  'Tis not sighing o'er the Plain;
+Songs nor Sonnets can't relieve ye,
+  Faint Attempts in Love are vain:
+Urge but home the fair Occasion,
+  And be Master of the Field;
+To a powerful kind Invasion,
+  'Twere a Madness not to yield.
+
+Tho' she vow's she'll ne'er permit ye,
+  Says you're rude, and much to blame;
+And with Tears implores your pity,
+  Be not merciful for shame:
+When the first assault is over,
+  _Chloris_ time enough will find;
+This so fierce and Cruel Lover,
+  Much more gentle, not so kind.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG. _The Words made to a Tune of the late Mr._ Henry Purcell's.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Drunk I was last Night that's poss,
+  My Wife began to Scold;
+Say what I cou'd for my Heart's Blood,
+  Her Clack she wou'd not hold:
+Thus her Chat she did begin,
+  Is this your time of coming in;
+The Clock strikes One, you'll be undone,
+  If thus you lead your Life:
+My Dear said I, I can't deny,
+  But what you say is true;
+I do intend, my Life to mend,
+  Pray lends the Pot to Spew.
+
+Fye, you Sot, I ne'er can bear,
+  To rise thus e'ery Night;
+Tho' like a Beast you never care,
+  What consequence comes by't:
+The Child and I may starve for you,
+  We neither can have half our due;
+With grief I find, you're so unkind,
+  In time you'll break my Heart:
+At that I smil'd, and said dear Child,
+  I believe your in the wrong;
+But if't shou'd be you're destiny,
+  I'll sing a merry Song.
+
+
+
+
+_The Gelding the Devil. Set by Mr._ Tho. Wroth.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+I met with the Devil in the shape of a Ram,
+Then over and over the Sow-gelder came;
+I rose and halter'd him fast by the Horns,
+And pick'd out his Stones, as you would pick out Corns;
+Maa, quoth the Devil, with that out he slunk,
+And left us a Carkass of Mutton that stunk.
+
+I chanc'd to ride forth a Mile and a half,
+Where I heard he did live in disguise of a Calf;
+I bound him and Gelt him e'er he did any evil,
+For he was at the best but a young sucking Devil:
+Maa, yet he cries, and forth he did steal,
+And this was sold after for excellent Veal.
+
+Some half a Year after in the Form of a Pig,
+I met with the Rogue, and he look'd very big;
+I caught at his Leg, laid him down on a Log,
+E'er a Man could Fart twice, I made him a Hog:
+Huh, huh quoth the Devil, and gave such a Jerk,
+That a _Jew_ was Converted and eat of that Pork.
+
+In Woman's attire I met him most fine,
+At first sight I thought him some Angel divine;
+But viewing his crab Face I fell to my Trade,
+I made him forswear ever acting a Maid:
+Meaw, quoth the Devil, and so ran away,
+Hid himself in a Fryer's old Weeds as they say.
+
+I walked along and it was my good chance,
+To meet with a Black-coat that was in a Trance;
+I speedily grip'd him and whip'd off his Cods,
+'Twixt his Head and his Breech, I left little odds:
+O, quoth the Devil, and so away ran,
+Thou oft will be curst by many a Woman.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+When _Jemmy_ first began to love,
+  He was the finest Swain;
+That ever yet a Flock had drove,
+  Or Danc'd upon the Plain:
+'Twas then that I, woe's me poor heart,
+  My Freedom threw away;
+And finding sweets in every part,
+  I could not say him nay.
+
+For ever when he spake of Love,
+  He wou'd his Eyes decline;
+Each Sigh he gave a Heart wou'd move,
+  Good faith, and why not mine:
+He'd press my Hand, and Kiss it oft,
+  His silence spoke his Flame;
+And whilst he treated me thus soft,
+  I wish'd him more to blame.
+
+Sometimes to feed my Flock with his,
+  _Jemmy_ wou'd me invite;
+Where he the finest Songs would Sing,
+  Me only to Delight:
+Then all his Graces he display'd,
+  Which were enough I trow;
+To conquer any Princely Maid,
+  So did he me I trow.
+
+But now for _Jemmy_ I must Mourn,
+  He to the Wars must go;
+His Sheephook to a Sword must turn,
+  Alack what shall I do?
+His Bagpipes into Warlike sounds,
+  Must now converted be;
+His Garlands into fearful Wounds,
+  Oh! what becomes of me?
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG; _to the Tune of_ Woobourn _Fair._
+
+Vol. 4. Pag. 330.
+
+
+Jilting is in such a Fashion,
+    And such a Fame,
+    Runs o'er the Nation,
+    There's never a Dame
+Of highest Rank, or of Fame,
+Sir, but will stoop to your Caresses,
+If you do but put home your Addresses:
+It's for that she Paints, and she Patches,
+All she hopes to secure is her Name, Sir.
+
+But when you find the Love fit comes upon her,
+Never trust much to her Honour;
+Tho' she may very high stand on't,
+Yet when her love is Ascendant,
+Her Vertue's quite out of Doors
+    High Breeding, rank Feeding,
+    With lazy Lives leading,
+    In Ease and soft Pleasures,
+    And taking loose Measures,
+    With Play-house Diversions,
+    And Midnight Excursions,
+    With Balls Masquerading,
+    And Nights Serenading,
+Debauch the Sex into Whores, Sir.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+_Set by Mr._ PACK.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Farewel ungrateful Traytor,
+  Farewel my Perjur'd Swain:
+Let never injur'd Creature,
+  Believe a Man again:
+The pleasure of possessing,
+  Surpasses all expressing;
+But Joys too short a Blessing,
+  And love too long a Pain:
+_But Joys too short a Blessing,_
+  _And Love too long a Pain._
+
+'Tis easie to deceive us,
+  In pity of your Pain;
+But when we Love, you leave us,
+  To rail at you in vain:
+Before we have descry'd it,
+  There is no Bliss beside it;
+But she that once has try'd it,
+  Will never Love again.
+
+The Passion you pretended,
+  Was only to obtain;
+But when the Charm is ended,
+  The Charmer you disdain:
+Your Love by ours we measure,
+  'Till we have lost our Treasure;
+But dying is a Pleasure,
+  When living is a Pain.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+You I Love by all that's true,
+More than all things here below;
+with a Passion far more great,
+Than e'er Creature loved yet:
+And yet still you cry forbear,
+Love no more, or Love not here.
+
+Bid the Miser leave his Ore,
+Bid the Wretched sigh no more;
+Bid the Old be young again,
+Bid the _Nun_ not think of Man:
+_Sylvia_ thus when you can do,
+Bid me then not think on you.
+
+Love's not a thing of Choice, but Fate,
+What makes me Love, that makes you Hate:
+_Sylvia_ you do what you will,
+Ease or Cure, Torment or Kill:
+Be Kind or Cruel, False or True,
+Love I must, and none but you.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG.
+
+Note: _You must Sing 8 lines to the first Strain._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Let's be merry blith and jolly,
+Stupid Dulness is a Folly;
+'Tis the Spring that doth invite us,
+Hark, the chirping Birds delight us:
+Let us Dance and raise our Voices,
+Every Creature now rejoyces;
+Airy Blasts and springing Flowers,
+Verdant Coverings, pleasant Showers:
+Each plays his part to compleat this our Joy,
+And can we be so dull as to deny.
+
+Here's no foolish surly Lover,
+That his Passions will discover;
+No conceited fopish Creature,
+That is proud of Cloaths or Feature:
+All things here serene and free are,
+They're not Wise, are not as we are;
+Who acknowledge Heavens Blessings,
+In our innocent Caressings:
+Then let us Sing, let us Dance, let us Play,
+'Tis the Time is allow'd, 'tis the Month of _May_.
+
+
+
+
+_A New_ SONG, _the Words by Mr._ J.C. _Set to Musick by Dr._ Prettle.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+No _Phillis_, tho' you've all the Charms,
+  Ambitious Woman can desire;
+All Beauty, Wit, and Youth that warms,
+  Or sets our foolish Hearts on fire:
+Yet you may practice all your Arts,
+  In vain to make a Slave of me;
+You ne'er shall re-engage my Heart,
+  Revolted from your Tyranny:
+_You ne'er shall re-engage my Heart,_
+  _Revolted from your Tyranny._
+
+When first I saw those dang'rous Eyes,
+  They did my Liberty betray;
+But when I knew your Cruelties,
+  I snatch'd my simple Heart away:
+Now I defy your Smiles to win,
+  My resolute Heart, no pow'r th'ave got;
+Tho' once I suck'd their Poyson in,
+  Your Rigour prov'd an Antidote.
+
+
+
+
+_The Epilogue to the_ Island Princes, _Set by Mr._ Clark, _Sung by
+Mrs._ Lindsey, _and the Boy._
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Now to you ye dry Wooers,
+Old Beaus, and no doers,
+So doughty, so gouty,
+So useless and toothless,
+Your blindless, cold kindness,
+  Has nothing of Man;
+Still doating, or gloating,
+Still stumbling, or fumbling,
+Still hawking, still baulking,
+  You flash in the Pan:
+Unfit like old Brooms,
+For sweeping our Rooms,
+You're sunk and you're shrunk,
+  Then repent and look to't;
+In vain you're so upish, in vain you're so upish.
+  You're down ev'ry foot.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ Scotch SONG, _Set by Mr._ R. BROWN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Jockey_ loves his _Moggy_ dearly,
+  He gang'd with her to _Perth_ Fair;
+There we Sung and Pip'd together,
+  And when done, then down I'd lay her:
+I so pull'd her, and so lull'd her,
+  Both o'erwhelm'd with muckle Joy;
+_Mog._ kiss'd _Jockey_, _Jockey_ _Moggy_,
+  From long Night to break of Day.
+
+I told _Mog._ 'twas muckle pleasing,
+  _Moggey_ cry'd she'd do again such;
+I reply'd I'd glad gang with thee,
+  But 'twould wast my muckle Coyn much:
+She lamented, I relented,
+  Both wish'd Bodies might increase;
+Then we'd gang next Year together,
+  And my Pipe shall never cease.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG, _in the_ Lucky Younger Brother, _or, the_ Beau Defeated;
+_Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _and Sung by Mr._ BOWMAN.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Delia_ tir'd _Strephon_ with her Flame,
+  While languishing, while languishing she view'd him;
+The well dress'd Youth despis'd the Dame,
+  But still, still; but still the old Fool pursu'd him:
+Some pity on a Wretch bestow,
+  That lyes at your Devotion;
+Perhaps near fifty Years ago,
+Perhaps near fifty Years ago,
+  I might have lik'd the Motion.
+
+If you, proud Youth, my Flame despise,
+  I'll hang me in my Garters;
+Why then make hast to win the Prize,
+  Among loves foolish Martyrs:
+Can you see _Delia_ brought so low,
+  And make her no Requitals?
+_Delia_ may to the Devil go, _Delia_ may to the Devil,
+Devil go, to the Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil, Devil go for
+  _Strephon_;
+Stop my Vitals, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop my Vitals.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ John Weldon.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+Swain thy hopeless Passion smother,
+Perjur'd _Caelia_ loves another;
+In his Arms I saw her lying,
+Panting, Kissing, Trembling, Dying:
+There the Fair deceiver swore,
+As once she did to you before.
+
+Oh! said you, when She deceives me,
+When that Constant Creatures leave me;
+_Isis_ Waters back shall fly,
+And leave their _Ouzy_ Channels dry:
+Turn your Waters, leave your Shore,
+For perjur'd _Caelia_ loves no more.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in the Comedy call'd the_ BITER, _Set by Mr._ John Eccles,
+_and Sung by Mr._ Cook.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Chloe_ blush'd and frown'd and swore,
+  And push'd me rudely from her;
+I call'd her Faithless, Jilting Whore,
+  To talk to me of Honour:
+But when I rose and wou'd be gone,
+  She cry'd nay, whither go ye?
+Young _Damon_ saw, now we're alone,
+  Do, do, do what you will, do what you will with _Chloe_:
+Do what you will, what you will, what you will with _Chloe_,
+Do what you will, what you will, what you will with _Chloe_.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _in_ Rinaldo _and_ Armida: _Set by Mr._ John Eccles. _Sung by
+Mr._ Gouge.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+The Jolly, Jolly Breeze,
+That comes whistling through the Trees;
+From all the blissful Regions brings,
+Perfumes upon its spicy Wings:
+With its wanton motion curling,
+Curling, curling, curling the crystal Rills,
+Which down, down, down, down the Hills,
+Run, run, run, run, run o'er Golden gravel purling.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _on the_ Punch Bowl. _To the foregoing Tune._
+
+
+The Jolly, Jolly Bowl,
+That does quench my thirsty Soul;
+When all the mingling Juice is thrown,
+Perfum'd with fragrant Goar Stone:
+With it's wanton Toast too, curling,
+Curling, curling, curling, curling the Nut-brown Riles,
+Which down, down, down, down by the Gills,
+Run through ruby Swallows purling.
+
+
+
+
+_The_ PROLOGUE _in the_ Island-Princess, _Set and Sung by Mr._
+LEVERIDGE.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+You've been with dull Prologues here banter'd so long,
+They signify nothing, or less than a Song;
+To sing you a Ballad this Tune we thought fit,
+For Sound has oft nickt you, when Sence could not hit:
+Then Ladies be kind, and Gentlemen mind,
+Wit Capers, play Sharpers, loud Bullies, tame Cullies,
+Sow grumblers, Wench Fumblers give ear ev'ry Man:
+Mobb'd Sinners in Pinners, kept Foppers, Bench-hoppers,
+High-Flyers, Pit-Plyers, be still if you can:
+You're all in Damnation, you're all in Damnation for Leading the Van.
+
+Ye Side-Box Gallants, whom the vulgar call Beaus,
+Admirers of Self, and nice Judges of Cloaths;
+Who now the War's over cross boldly the Main,
+Yet ne'er were at Seiges, unless at Campaign:
+Spare all on the Stage, Love in every Age,
+Young Tattles, Wild Rattles, Fan-Tearers, Mask-Fleerers,
+Old Coasters, Love boasters, who set up for Truth:
+Young Graces, Black Faces, some Faded, some Jaded,
+Old Mothers, and others, who've yet a Colt's Tooth:
+See us Act that in Winter, you'd all Act in Youth.
+
+You Gallery Haunters, who love to lye snug,
+And maunch Apples or Cakes, while some Neighbour you hugg;
+Ye lofties, Genteels, who above us all sit,
+And look down with Contempt, on the Mob in the Pit,
+Here's what you like best, Jigg, Song and the rest,
+Free Laughers, close Graffers, dry Jokers, old Soakers,
+Kind Cousins, by Dozens, your Customs don't break:
+Sly Spouses with Blouses, grave Horners, in Corners,
+Kind No-wits, save Poets, clap 'till your Hands ake,
+And tho' the Wits Damn us, we'll say the Whims take.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG _Set by Mr._ JOHN BARRETT, _and Sung by Mrs._ LINDSEY.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+_Caelia_ hence with Affectation,
+  Hence with all this careless Air;
+Hypocrisy is out of Fashion,
+  With the Witty and the Fair:
+Nature all thy Arts discloses,
+  While the Pleasures she supplies;
+Paint thy glowing Cheeks with Roses,
+  And inflame thy sparkling Eyes.
+
+Foolish _Caelia_ not to know,
+  Love thy Int'rest and thy Duty;
+Thou to love alone dost owe,
+  All thy Joy, and all thy Beauty:
+Mark the tuneful Feather'd kind,
+  At the coming of the Spring;
+All in happy Pairs are joyn'd,
+  And because they love they Sing.
+
+
+
+
+_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ CLARK.
+
+
+[Music]
+
+How often have I curs'd that sable Deceit,
+  For making me wish and admire;
+And rifle poor _Ovid_ to learn to intreat,
+  When Reason might check my desire:
+For sagely of late it has been disclos'd,
+  There's nothing, nothing conceal'd uncommon;
+No Miracles under a Mask repos'd,
+  When knowing _Cynthia's_ a Woman.
+
+Tho' Beauty's great Charms our Sences delude,
+  'Tis the Centre attracts our Needle;
+And Love's a Jest when thought to intrude,
+  The design of it to unriddle:
+A Virgin may show strange coyness in Love,
+  And tell you Chimera's of Honour;
+But give her her Wish, the Man she approves,
+  No Labour he'll have to win her.
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge
+Melancholy, Vol. 5 of 6, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND MIRTH, VOL. 5 OF 6 ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26679.txt or 26679.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/6/7/26679/
+
+Produced by David Newman, Linda Cantoni, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. Music
+transcribed by Linda Cantoni.
+
+
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