〈♫〉 C Ʋpid, the ſlyeſt Rogue alive, one day was plund'ring of a Hive! but as with too too ea—ger haſt, he ſtrove the Li—quid Sweets to taſt: A Bee ſurpriz'd the heed—leſs Boy, prick'd him, and daſh'd the ex—pe-cted Joy. The Urchin when he felt the ſmart of the in—ve—nom'd an—gry Dart, he kick'd, he flung, he ſpurn'd the Ground, he blow'd, and then he chaf'd the wound; he blow'd, and chaf'd the wound in vain, the rub—bing ſtill encreas'd the Pain. Strait to his Mother's Lap he hies, with ſwel—ling Cheeks, and blub—ber'd Eyes, cries ſhe, What does my Cupid ayl, when thus, thus, he told his mourn—ful Tale: A lit—tle Bird they call a Bee, with yellow Wings, ſee, ſee Mother, ſee, how it has go—r'd and wounded me! And are not you, reply'd his Mother, for all the world juſt ſuch a—no—ther, juſt ſuch a-no—ther peeviſh thing, like in bulk, and like in Sting? For when you aim a poys'nous Dart againſt ſome poor un-wea—ry Heart, how lit—tle is the Ar—cher found, and yet how wide, how deep the wound.

〈♫〉 WHen love—ly Phil—lis thou art kind, nought but Raptures fill my Mind; 'tis WHen love—ly Phil—lis thou art kind, nought but Raptures fill my Mind; 'tis then I think thee ſo Divine, t'excell the migh—ty Pow'r of Wine: But when thou in- then I think thee ſo Divine, t'excell the migh—ty Pow'r of Wine: But ſults, but when thou in—ſults, and lau—ghs at my Pain, I wiſh thee a- when thou inſults, and lau—ghs at my Pain, I wiſh thee a- way with ſparkling Champaign; ſo bravely contemn both the Boy and his Mother, and drive out one way with ſparkling Champaign; ſo bravely contemn both the Boy and his Mo—ther, and God, and drive out one God by the Pow'r, by the Pow'r of a—no-ther. drive out one God, and drive out, and drive out one God by the Pow'r of a—no-ther.

〈♫〉 COme all ye ten—der Nymphs, and learn of me, to ſhun a wretched Fate; take heed how you diſ—ſem—ble Scorn, or too well coun—ter—feit your Hate: The charming Swain his Pow-er knew, and to my wounded Heart he did a generous Pi—ty ſhew, a mu—tual Flame impart. But I, un—hap—py I, with Scorn and Pride, think—ing to hide the bluſh—ing Pain; too far the fic—kle Lover try'd, with fooling bo • ſt what I'd have dy'd to gain.

〈♫〉 WHe firſt Do-rin-da, your bright Eyes, had made my Heart your Slave; how vainly ſou—ght I to diſguiſe the Tortures that you gave: Durſt hardly call my Fate unkind, or to my ſelf complain; for fear ſome, bu—ſie liſt'—ning Wind ſhould o—ver—hear my Pain; for fear—ſome bu—ſie liſt'—ning Wind ſhould o—ver- o—ver—hear my Pain, Pain.

〈♫〉 IN vain ſhe frowns, in vain ſhe trys the Darts of her diſ—dain—ful Eyes; ſhe ſtill is Charming, ſtill is Fair, and I muſt love, tho' I de—ſpair: Nor can I of my Fate com—ply, or her Diſdain; who would not dye, to be ſo ſweetly ſlain.

〈♫〉 THe poor Endymion lov'd too well a Nymph too chaſt and fair; whoſe Eyes had known the way to kill, and to procure Deſpair: For ſhe had all her Sex—es Pride, and all her Beauties too; and ev'—ry am'rous Swain defy'd, when e're they came to woo.

〈♫〉 BEhold the Morn' dawns, the Lark has ſung, E-ter-nal be your Bliſs; con- tinue always young, and ev'ry day you wake your Love like this, Soft. and ev'ry day you wake your Love like this: And con-ſum-ma-tion, with the Ri—ſing Sun, be lo-ving—ly perform'd, as now be—gun. But huſh! the Bride's aſleep! forbid the Morning Cock to crow ſo loud, di- But huſh! but huſh! the, &c. ſperſe the bu-ſie Crowd, for fear too ear—ly waking make her weep, but what's now loſt they could no longer keep.

〈♫〉 TUne your Lute, and raiſe your Voice, touch each Note that's ſoft and moving; warm her Heart that's cold as Ice, make her feel the Joys of Loving. Tell her, how ſhe has miſ—ſpent all the Hours that Nature gave her; tell her, Beau—ty is but lent, and this moment it may leave her: Shew her how the Streams of Love gent—ly flow with end—leſs Pleaſure; tell her, how the Gods a—bove va—lu'd Love their on—ly Treaſure.

〈♫〉 WHen I ſee my Strephon languiſh, with Lucinda's Charms oppreſt; when I ſee his Pain and Anguiſh, Pi—ty moves my ten—der Breaſt: Sighs ſo oft, and Tears ſo moving, who can ſee, and hold from Loving? Sighs ſo oft, and Tears ſo moving, who can ſee, and hold from Loving.

〈♫〉 LOng have I liv'd from Paſ—ſion free, of Love the charming De—i—ty; 'till conqu'ring Beau—ty, Oh hard Fate! hath made me yield to a reſtleſs State: With wan-de-ring Thoughts my Heart's oppreſt, Day brings no Comfort, Night no Reſt.

〈♫〉 SHould I once fall in Love, as I hope I ne're ſhall, grant, ye Gods, to my lot ſuch a Miſtreſs may fall; nei—ther Ug—ly, nor a Beauty, more handſom than good, my E—qual in For—tune, in Ho-nour and Blood: Not too ea—ſie when courted, by yielding with Honour, ſuch, ſuch may ſhe prove, or elſe a plague on her. May ſhe have enough Wit to make ſport with pert Fools, may her Vertue ſit free, not a Slave to ſtiff Rules; that when Cob comes to ſee me, ſhe will not ſtick to make one, at a Glaſs, or a Catch, or to lau—gh at a Pun: Such, ſuch would I chuſe me, for better, for worſe, and when the Wife's done, may ſhe prove a good Nurſe.

〈♫〉 THey ſay you're angry, and rant migh—ti—ty, be—cauſe I love the ſame as you, a—las! you're ve—ry rich 'tis true; but pre—thee [Where this mark * is over the Note, are to be ſung Demiquavers.] Fool! what's that to Love and me? Your Land and Mo—ney let that ſerve, and know you're more by that than you deſerve. When next I ſee my fair one, ſhe ſhall know how worth—leſs thou art of her Bed; and, Wretch, I'le ſtrike thee dumb and dead with no—ble Verſe, not un—der—ſtood by you; while thy ſole Rhet'rick ſhall be Joynture and Jew—els, and our Friends a—gree. Pox o' your Friends that dote and do—mi- neer, Lo—vers are bet—ter Friends than they, let's thoſe in o—ther things o- bey, the Fates and Stars, and Gods muſt go—vern here: Vain name of Blood! in Love, let none ad-viſe with a—ny Blood, but with their own: 'Tis that which bids me this bright Maid a—dore, no o—ther Thought has had ac—ceſs, did ſhe now beg, I'd love no leſs; and were ſhe an Empreſs, I ſhould love no more. Were ſhe as juſt and true to me, ah, ſim—ple Soul! what would become of thee!

〈♫〉 UN—juſt Cli—me—na does complain, that I a—no—ther prize; ſhe on—ly in my Breaſt would raign, that is, would Ty—ra—nize: Let who will be con—fin'd to one, and pay his Vows to her a—lone, I'le be mo—no—po- liz'd by none.

〈♫〉 WHen cloſe—ly embrac'd in the Arms of my Dear, the Raptures of Joy ſpoke E—li—zium was there; I fainted, I dy'd, yet her Smiles, and the Sight I found in an Hour a whole Age of Delight: One mo—ment I wounded, the next I ſurviv'd, in her Preſence I liv'd, in her Abſence I dyd; but li—ving or dy—ing I felt the ſame pain, 'twas the Pleaſures of Love did the Vi—cto—ry gain.

〈♫〉 STrife, hurry, and noiſe (that fills the lewd Town) ſure at laſt 'tis time to give ov-er; and in the dear Shades of the Country alone, bleſt Quiet and Eaſe to re—co—ver. Fooliſh Hopes, i—dle Fears, and reſtleſs Deſires, are the bu-ſie Man's reſtleſs Attendant; what he vainly purſues, the Mind that retires, al—rea—dy is come to the end on't.

〈♫〉 PHil—lis, talk no more of Paſſion, words alone want Pow'r to move; ſhe that ſhuns a fair oc—ca—ſion, never, never ſhould pretend to more. Honour that ſo oft you mention, Love poſ—ſeſ—ſing once your Mind, a—las! is but a vain pretenſion, Women uſe that wo'nt be kind. Your dai—ly ſeeking out Ex—cu—ſes, ſhows too much De- ceit and Art; in Love who Mar-tyr—dom re—fu—ſes, lives an A—theiſt in her Heart: Fame and Honour will deceive ye, none did e're un—cen—ſur'd go; therefore, gentle Maid, believe me, Love's the greateſt good we know.

〈♫〉 YE Pow'rs that rule the World, muſt I ſtill be purſu'd by ſuch cru—el ſtrokes of De—ſti—ny? What hopes in ſtore for that poor Wretch, that lo—ving more than a—ny e're be—fore, becomes a fa—tal Prey to the ru—ral Pow'r, and by their Charms, feels a freſh Death each Hour? But if in time that frozen Heart could melt, where on—ly Thoughts more cold than Ice have dwelt; could Pi—ty then take place, and Smiles poſ—ſeſs, that plea—ſing Face that Frowns do now diſgrace: Change then but by de—grees, leſt the ſur—pri—ſing Joy prove e—qual to De- ſpair, and as ſoon de—ſtroy. A—las! the Ma—lice of my Stars is too plain, they would con—trive her Love worſe than her Diſ—dain; a flatt'ring Ray of Hope my Death but to de—lay, and as ſoon to be—tray; for ſuch pro—di—geous Bliſs, tranſporting Joys! who can, of this ſide Heaven, be—lieve reſerv'd for Man?

〈♫〉 SInce my Miſtreſs proves Cru—el, my Suit I'le give o're; no more will I Lan—guiſh, will I Court, or A—dore; and no farther Expect, or her Fa—vours implore: But the force of her Charms I'le boldly de—fie, no lon—ger will wait, if ſhe will not Comply; for I'le love none but thoſe, who're as wil—ling as I.

〈♫〉 PHil-lis, be gent—ler, I ad—viſe, make up for Time miſ- ſpent; when Beau—ty on its Death-bed Iyes, 'tis high time to repent. Such is the Ma—lice of your Fate, which makes you old ſo ſoon; your Pleaſure e—ver comes too late, how ear—ly e're be—gun.

〈♫〉 MU—ſing on Cares of Humane Fate, in a ſad Cypreſs Grove; a ſtrange Diſpute I heard of late, 'twixt Ver—tue, Fame, and Love: A penſive Shepherd ask'd Advice, and their O—pi-nions crav'd; how he might hope to be ſo wiſe, to get a Place be—yond the Skies, and how he might be ſav'd.

〈♫〉 Swift as a Thought, &c.

Chorus. 〈♫〉 Swift as a Thought, the a—mo—rous Swain to Syl-via's Cot—tage flies; in ſoft ex- preſſions told her plain the way to Hea—ven—ly Joys: She who with Pi—e—ty was ſtor'd, de- lays no lon—ger crav'd; charm'd by the God whom they ador'd, ſhe ſmil'd and took him at his word, and thus they both were ſav'd.

〈♫〉 WHile Thir—ſis wrapt in Downy Sleep, pleas'd with ſweet Fancies lay; the Graces conſtant watch did keep, and Cu—pids rou—nd him play: 'Till crouds of Nymphs and Swains around, his ten—der Ears invade; with In—vi—ta—tions to be crown'd, in this ſof—t Se—ra—nade.

CHORUS ſung by three Furies. 〈♫〉 DRag him down, drag him down to th' Abyſs, let Flames and vaſt Ser—pents a—bout him ſtill roul, and as he does pi—ti—leſs, pi—ti—leſs howl, he does pi—ti—leſs howl; let the Flames e—ver ſcorch him, and at him in ſcorn, let the Ser—pent ſtill hiſs, Drag him down, and make the Wretch know, proud Tyrants on Earth ſhall be Slaves here be—low.

〈♫〉 DRag him down, drag him down to th' Abyſs, let Flames and vaſt Ser—pents a- bout him ſtill ro—ul, and as he does pi—ti—leſs, pi—ti—leſs howl, he does pi—ti—leſs howl; let the Flames e—ver ſcorch him, and at him in Scorn, let the Ser—pent ſtill hiſs, Drag him down, and make the Wretch know, proud Tyrants on Earth, on Earth, ſhall be Slaves here be—low.

〈♫〉 DRag him down, drag him down to th' Abyſs, let Flames and vaſt Ser—pents a- bout him ſtill ro—ul, and as he does pi—ti—leſs, pi—ti—leſs howl, he does pitileſs howl; let the Flames ever ſcorch him, and at him in Scorn, the Serpents ſtill hiſs, ſtill hiſs, Drag him down, and make the Wretch know, proud Tyrants on Earth, on Earth, ſhall be Slaves here be—low.

〈♫〉 HAIL Al—bion! hail all hail! at—tend the Throne, and him that ſits there—on. Hail Albion! hail! thy faithful Friends prevail, and Foes lie truckling down. [Hail Albion! hail! &c.] The ſul—len Clouds di—ſperſt the Clouds of groundleſs Doubts and Fears, the ri—ſing Sun appears. [Hail Albion! hail! &c.] The Warlike JAMES as active in his Sphere, as does from hence ſuch Beams diſpence, as gives new Life and Vigour all the Year. End with the firſt Strain.

〈♫〉 LOok down, look down fair Saint, and ſee a reſt—leſs Lover's Care! whoſe Heart was 'till this moment free from Beauty's char—ming Snare: Look down, look down fair Saint, and ſee a reſt—leſs Lo—ver's Care! But now a—las! it flies to you, and round, and round the Street all Night I rove; ah then look down! ah then look down, dear Soul! dear Soul! and view the Vi—ctim of Al—migh—ty Love. Like Spirits we wander in dead time of Night, Huz- z—a! Huz—z—a! we roar, and we ſight; at laſt the Watch comes to op—poſe our Delight. Charge! charge! Hey! now we ſcour thro 'the Bill-men in Flannel, and down drops a Con—ſta—ble in—to the Kennel.

〈♫〉 Look down fair Saint, and ſee a reſt—leſs Lover's Care whoſe Heart was 'till this mo—ment free from Beauty's charming Snare: Look down fair Saint, and ſee a reſt—leſs Lo—ver's Care! But now a- las! it flies to you, and round, and round the Street all Night we rove; ah then look down! ah then look down, dear Soul! and view the Vi—ctim of Al—migh—ty Love. Like Spirits we wander in dead time of Night, Huzz—a! Huzz—a! we roar, and we ſight; at laſt the Watch comes to op—poſe our Delight. Charge! charge! Hey! now we ſcour thro' the Bill-men in Flannel, and down drops a Con—ſta—ble in—to the Kennel.

〈♫〉 THere is one black and ſul—len hour, which Fate de • reed our Life ſhould know; elſe we ſhould ſlight Al-migh-ty Pow'r, rapt with the Joys we find below. 'Tis paſt, dear Cynthia! now let Frowns be gone, a long long Penance I have done; a long long Penance I have done, for Crimes a—las! to me unknown.

〈♫〉 TELL me what a thing is Love, O ye Gods that live above! you in wan—ton Plea—ſres rove, and all its ſe—cret Joys do prove; whilſt we poor Mortals here be—low, ſcarce a part of it do know; but la—viſh out a Life in vain, and nought but Scorn for Love we gain.

〈♫〉 PRide and Am—bi—tion, and Pee-viſt-reſs too, nay all the whole Sex—es Le—gion of Ills, I'd meet in a Woman, I'm doom'd to Woe, ſo Wit, damn'd Wit, not the Ca-ta-logue fills: To themſelves 'tis a Plague, to us it is worſe, but poyſon'd with Learning is Curſe up—on Curſe.

〈♫〉 WHen firſt I paſs'd the hap—py Night, in Char—ming Pleaſure's ſwift Delight, in thoſe dear Arms of thine; what trem—bling Joys ſur—priz'd that Heart! which when, a—las! we were to part, ne're felt a Grief like mine, ne're felt a Grief like mine

〈♫〉 THat I might e—ven dream thus, That ſome Pow'r to my E—ter—nal Reſt would grant this hour; ſo wil—ling—ly deceiv'd, I might poſſeſs, in ſeeming Joys a re—al Happineſs: Death! I would gladly bow beneath thy Charms, ſo thou could'ſt bring my Doris to thy Arms; that thus at laſt made happy, I might prove in Life the Hell, in Death the Heav'n of Love.

〈♫〉 COme dear Com—pa-nions of th' Arcadian Fields, let us, let us com- bine to countermine, the Plots our Female Con—ver—ſa-tion yields; we'l bre—ak their Fetters, we'l bre—ak their Fetters from their Charms, be free, and re—gain Man his lo—ng, lo—ng lo—ſt Li—ber—ty. 2. Beauty your Empire now, now, now, is in its wain, we'l never, no never, never more, never more your Shrines a- dore, ſince you delight t'aſ—ſo—ciate with Diſ—dain: Had you been kind, I would have worſhip'd, I would have worſhip'd ſtill, but your chief Glo—ry is your Slaves to kill. So law—ful Princes when they Ty—rants prove, themſelves a- buſe, and Pow-er loſe, their Strength de—pen—ding, de—pen—ding on their Subjects Love; for Love o—bli—ges Duty more than Fear, for Love o-bli-ges Duty more than Fear, more than Fear, all hate the Government that is too ſevere; all, all hate the Government that is too ſevere.

〈♫〉 COme dear Com-pa-nions of th' Ar-ca-dian Fields, let us, let us combine to counter- mine, the Plots our Female Converſation yields; we'l bre—ak their Fetters from their Charms, be free, and regain man his lo—ng, lo—ng loſt Li-ber—ty. Beauty your Empire now, now, now is in its wain, we'l ne—ver, no never, never more your Shrines adore, ſince you delight t'aſſociate with Diſdain: Had you been kind, I would have worſhip'd, I would have worſhip'd ſtill, but your chief Glo— —ry is your Slaves to kill. So law-ful Princes when they Tyrants prove, themſelves abuſe, and Power loſe, their Strength de-pen-ding on their Subjects Love; for Love o—bli—ges Duty more than Fear, for Love o—bli-ges Duty more than Fear, all hate the Government that is too ſe—vere; all, all hate the Government that is too ſevere.

〈♫〉 THE Nymph that does expoſe to ſale, the ſoft Endearments of her Love, can ne—ver o're my Heart pre—vail, nor the leaſt In-cli-na-tion move: It checks that ri—ſing Tranſports of Delight, and palls the ſierceſt Lovers ap—pe—tite; and palls the fier—ceſt Lo—vers Ap—pe—tite.

〈♫〉 SYlvia, 'tis true, 'tis true, you're fair, more, more than other Women are, 'tis true, yet that's no plea to be ſe—vere: Think not thoſe Eyes, 'cauſe they conquer ſo much, and ſo much do ſurprize, ne're e—ver in—ten—ded to Ty-ra-nize; for Beauty was ne—ver, was ne—ver deſign'd for a Grace to that Face, and a Torment and Cure to my Mind: To Conſent and En-joy-ment it rather ſhould move you, for were you not handſom, who the Devil would love you, for were you not handſom, who the Devil would love you. CHORUS. Then ſince you're by Nature fram'd ſit for the Sport, be kind and com-ply-ing, be kind and complying, ne're re- ſuſe when we Court; your Scorn, and your haughty Diſdain, prethee ceaſe! and ſince you've the Charms, have the Will too to pleaſe: For an in—ſo—lent Beauty is nought but Diſeaſe, for an in—ſo—lent Beauty is nought but Diſeaſe.

The ſinging Baſs of the Chorus. THen ſince you're by Nature fram'd fit for the Sport, be kind and complying, nor re- fuſe, nor refuſe when we Court; your Scorn, and your haughty Diſdain, prethee ceaſe! prethee ceaſe! and ſince you've the Charms, have the Will too to pleaſe: For an in—ſo—lent Beauty is nought but Diſeaſe, for an in—ſo—lent Beauty is nought but Diſeaſe.

〈♫〉 I Saw fair Cloris all a—lone, when feather'd Rain came ſoft—ly down; and Jove de-ſcen-ding from his Tow'r, to court her in a ſil—ver Show'r: The gen—tle Snow flew in her Breaſts, like little Birds, like Birds in—to their Neſts: But o—ver-come with whiteneſs there, for Grief diſſolv'd, for Grief diſ—ſolv'd in—to a Tear; which fal—ling down, which falling down her Garment Hem, to de—ck her Fro—ze in—to a Gem.

〈♫〉 I Saw fair Cloris all alone, when feather'd Rain came ſofty down; and Jove deſcending from his Tow'r, to court her in a ſil—ver Show'r: The gen—tle Snow flew in her Breaſts, like lit—tle Birds, like little Birds, in—to their Neſts; but o—ver—come with whiteneſs there, for Grief diſſolv'd, for Grief diſſolv'd in—to a Tear; which falling down her Garment Hem, to de—ck her, to deck her Froze in—to a Gem.

〈♫〉 AH Phillis! why are you leſs ten—dre, to my de-ſpai-ring Amour! your Heart you have promis'd to ren—dre, do not de—ny the Retour: My Paſſion I cannot de- fen—dre; no, no, Torments encreaſe tous les Jours.

〈♫〉 SHun a vain Pre-ten-der's Sto—ry, which does Pride not Love di- ſco—ver; Beauty's rob'd of all its Glory, when Va—ni—ty creates a Lover: He'l be con—ſtant in pur—ſu—ing, 'till 'tis ſaid, he is poſ-ſeſt; then be pleas'd at your un-do-ing, Proud the World believes him bleſt; then be pleas'd at your un—do—ing, Proud the World be—lieves him bleſt.

〈♫〉 OH Mother! Roger with his Kiſ—ſes almoſt ſtops my Breath I vow! why does he gripe my Hand to pieces, and yet ſays, he loves me too? Tell me, Mother, pray now do, pray now do, pray now do! tell me, Mother, pray now do, pray now, pray now, pray now do, what Ro—ger means when he does ſo? For ne—ver ſtir I long to know.

〈♫〉 IS my Clo—rin—da yet in Nature's State! what greater Joy, or Grief to me! Live, live Clo—rin—da, 'till I hate, and I Clo—rin—da ſtill abhorr'd by thee: Thou art all Joy, I am by De—ſti—ny all Grief, all Sorrow; none to pi—ty me! dear Clo-rin-da, not a Soul but thee! Oh! had I time to write the turns of Time, to vent my Paſſion in ſuch a Rhime, as could all Hearts to mine in ſympathy melt quickly down, but none but thee, Clo—rin-da, pities me! Thou glv'ſt me thine, I thee my Pi—ty give, let's pi—ty one a—no—ther, whi—lſt we live.

〈♫〉 A Graſs-hopper, and a Fly, in Summer hot and dry, in ea—ger Ar—gu—ment were met, a—bout, a—bout Pri—o—ri—ty: Says the Fly to the Graſs-hopper, From mighty Race I ſpring, bright Phaebus was my Dad 'tis known, and I eat and drink with a King. Says the Graſs-hopper to the Fly, Such Rogues are ſtill, are ſtill preferr'd; your Fa—ther might be of high Degree, but your Mother was but a Turd, a Turd, a Turd.

CHORVS. 〈♫〉 SO Re—bel Jem-my Scot, ſo Re—bel Jem—my Scot, that did to Em—pire ſoar; his Father might be the Lord knows what, his Father might be the Lord knows what, but his Mother we knew a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore; his Fa—ther might be the Lord knows what, but his Mother we knew a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore.

〈♫〉 SO Re—bel Jemmy Scot, ſo Re—bel Jem—my Scot, that did to Empire ſoar; his Father might be the Lord knows what, but his Mother we knew, his Mother we knew a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore; his Father might be the Lord knows what, but his Mother we knew, but his Mother we knew a whore, a whore, a whore, a whore.

〈♫〉 WHile Orpheus in a hea—vy ſtrain, and dole—ful Accents did complain, that his Eu—ri—di—ce was ſlain; the Trees to hear, ob—tain'd an Ear; the Trees to hear, ob—tain'd an Ear; which when the Harp was dumb, grew deaf a—gain; which when the Harp was dumb, grew deaf a—gain. If Wood can ſpeak, a Tree may hear, if Wood can Sor—row e're en—dear, a Tree may drop an Amber tear; if Wood can tell true Grief ſo well, the Cypreſs may be- moan the Bier; if Wood can tell true Grief ſo well, the Cypreſs may be- moan the Bier, the Cypreſs may bemoan the Bier. The ſtanding Nobles of the Grove, finding dead Timber ſpeak and move, the ſa—tal Ax be—gan to love; and envy'd Death that gave ſuch Breath, as Tunes the Voi-ces of the bleſt a—bove, as Tunes the Voi—ces of the bleſt a—bove.

〈♫〉 TH'am—bi—tious Eye that ſeeks a—lone, where Beau-ty's Won—ders moſt are ſhown; of all that bounteous Heav'n diſplays, let him on bright A—lin—da gaze, and in her high Ex—am—ple ſee, all can admir'd, or wiſh'd-for be.

〈♫〉 WHilſt Cynthia ſung, all an—gry Winds lay ſtill; and Ze—phi—rus with a gen—tle Gale, did ſoft—ly ſwell the trem—bling Sail; Cynthia! whoſe Voice, as well as Eyes, can kill: Charm'd with the Ma—gick of her Tongue, the wan—ton Wa—ters danc'd a—long; each lit—tle Bil-low ſtrove to ſtay, tho' Nature for—ced it a- way: Precedent Waves then foll'wing ride, and all to—ge—ther blame the Tide.

〈♫〉 IN a dark ſha—dy Cy-preſs Grove, where nought but diſ—mal thoughts of Love, no plea—ſant, nor no chear—ful Ray, did e're ad—mit—tance find; the me-lan-cho-ly Stre—phon lay, thus, thus, thus ſigh—ing to the Wind; the me-lan-cho-ly Stre—phon lay, thus, thus, thus ſigh—ing to the Wind: Ah! do not, Strephon, think to find, a Cure for thy tortur'd Mind, there amongſt thoſe whom Fate has bleſt, with kind and yielding Charms: Where ev'ry Night each Swain does reſt, ſe- cur'd by Love from harms; where ev'ry Night each Swain does reſt, ſe—cur'd by Love from harms. Ceaſe, wretched Strephon! ceaſe to grieve, do thou like o—ther Shepherds live; free from all Care there hours are paſs'd, free as the Flocks they keep; Dances and Songs there Days do waſt, there Nights they paſs in ſleep; Dances and Songs there Days do waſt, there Nights they paſs in ſleep. Sad is thy Fate, ſince thou a—lone, in- conſtancy ſurpaſs'd by none, has fix'd thy Heart, where no return can e're ex—pe—cted be: Yet for my Ce-lia's love, to mourn ſhall pleaſure be to me; yet for my Ce-lia's love, to mourn ſhall pleaſure be to me.

〈♫〉 In a dark ſha—dy Cy—preſs Grove, where nought but diſ—mal thoughts of Love, no pleaſant, nor no chearful Ray, did e're ad—mit—tance find, did e're admittance find; the me-lan-cho-ly Strephon lay, thus ſigh—ing to the Wind, the Wind; the me—lan—cho—ly Strephon lay, thus, thus ſigh-ing to the Wind: Ah! do not, Strephon, think to find, a Cure for thy tortur'd Mind, there amongſt thoſe whom Fate has bleſt, with kind and yielding Charms: Where ev'ry Night each Swain does reſt, ſe- cur'd by Love from harms; where ev'ry Night each Swain does reſt, ſecur'd by Love from harms. Ceaſe, wretched Strephon! ceaſe to mourn, to mourn, do thou like o—ther Shepherds live; free from all Cares there hours are paſs'd, free as the Flocks they keep; Dances and Songs there Days do waſt, there Nights they paſs in ſleep; Dances and Songs there Days do waſt, there Nights they paſs in ſleep. Sad is thy Fate, ſince thou a—lone, in- conſtancy ſurpaſs'd by none, has fix'd thy Heart, where no return can e're ex—pe—cted be: Yet for my Ce—lia's love, to mourn ſhall plea—ſure be to me; yet for my Ce—lia's love, to mourn ſhall pleaſure be to me.

〈♫〉 WHy ſo averſe is Lau—ra's Mind! why ſtill to Dae—mon's Grief un—kind! Leſs has her gen—tle Na—ture ſhook, for ſoft her Heart is as her Look: Re—len—ting, grateful, juſt is ſhe, and good to all the World but me.

〈♫〉 HOw pow'rful is the God of Love, whilſt he maintains his Sa—cred Rights! the Days with mighty Pleaſure move, and full of Raptures are the Nights, and full of Raptures are the Nights; the Days with mighty Pleaſure move, and full of Raptures are the Nights, and full of Rap—tures are the Nights: But if he ſtand in awe of Honour's nicer Law; if his own Pow'r he weakly gives a—way, he for—feits all the Rev'rence tha—t we pay; if his own Pow'r he weakly gives a—way, he forfeits all the Rev'rence tha—t we pay. 'Tis true, in Fea—vers we ſubmit, and drink not in the burning Fit; yet now and then a Cordial we may taſt, to eat is danger, to eat is danger, but 'tis death, 'tis death, 'tis death to faſt. But ſince a Fea-ver of the Mind no Ab—ſti—nence can eaſe, ſince I deſpair a Cure to find, be to your dying Pa—ti—ent kind, and hu—mour my Diſeaſe; ſince I de- ſpair a Cure to find, be to your dying Pa-ti—cit kind, and humour my Diſ—eaſe.

〈♫〉 WHen my Kids and Lambs I treated, and to Mountains did invite; with clean Straw their Hur—dles ſhee—ted, where they might re—poſe all Night: Then free from Care I liv'd at pleaſure, 'till my Le—lia take her flight; I at the loſs of ſuch a Treaſure, all my o—ther, all my o—ther, all my other Flocks did ſlight.

〈♫〉 LOvely Lau—rin—da! blame not me, if on your beauteous Looks I gaze; how can I help it, when I ſee ſomething ſo charming In your Face! That like a bright un—clou—ded Sky, when in the Air the Sun-beams play; it ra—vi—ſhes my wond'ring Eye, and warms me with a pleaſing Ray.

〈♫〉 THere's ſuch Re—li—gion in my Love, it muſt, like Ver—tue, have Re—ward; and Strephon's Faith will from a—bove, tho' not be—low, find due Regard: Tell me no more of Friends or Foes, that hinder'd what your Heart de—ſign'd; no Pa—rents can your Love di—ſpoſe, no more than they be- get your Mind. The CHORƲS.

CHORƲS for two Voices. 〈♫〉 KInd Heaven no Peace to the Perjur'd allows, in Fate's gloomy Book keeps account of all Vows: And Jove that does view the falſe and the true, knows who kept her Promiſe, and who deceiv'd, who will ſwear by the Skies, and Ga-ni-mede's Eyes, no Woman that mingles Affection with Art, and here in the fares of the World plays a part; ſhall e—ver hereafter, ſhall e—ver hereafter, ſhall e—ver here—af—ter break a fond Heart, ſhall e—ver here—af—ter break a fond Heart.

〈♫〉 KInd Heaven no Peace to the Perjur'd allows, in Fate's gloomy Book keeps account of all Vows: And Jove that does view the falſe and the true, knows who kept her Promiſe, and who deceiv'd, who will ſwear by the Skies, and Ga-ni-mede's Eyes, no Woman that mingles Affection with Art, and here in the fares of the World plays a part, ſhall e—ver hereafter, ſhall e-ver, ſhall e—ver here—af—ter break a fond Heart, ſhall e—ver here—af—ter break a fond Heart.

〈♫〉 WHilſt you court a damn'd Vintner for ſuch na—ſty Liquor, as worſe was ne're ſwallow'd by dull Country Vi—car, and the in—ſo—lent Raſ—cal ſtill draws what he pleaſes; while, Boys, you may kick 'em, when Maſters entreat 'em, from Draw'rs you up in—to Al—der—men beat 'em; but they get your Money, and you get Diſ—ea—ſes.

〈♫〉 LET the vain, let the vain Spark

〈♫〉 Let the vain Spark, &c.

〈♫〉 conſume his Store, in keeping an ex- penſive Whore, for o—thers to em—ploy: For all thoſe Snares and Baits he pays, which he for o—ther Gallants lays,

〈♫〉 and he muſt leaſt,

〈♫〉 and he muſt leaſt, muſt leaſt en—joy.

〈♫〉 muſt leaſt en—joy.

〈♫〉 A—Dieu, dear Object of my Love's ex—ceſs, and with thee all my hopes, all my hopes of Hap—pi—neſs! Adieu, adieu, a- dieu, dear Object of my Love's exceſs, and with thee all my hopes, all my hopes of Happineſs, and with thee all my Hopes of Happineſs; a—ll my hopes, my hopes of Happineſs! With the ſame ſervent and un—chan—ged Heart, which did its whole ſelf once to thee impart. I to reſign thy dear Converſe ſubmit, ſince I can neither, neither keep, nor me—rit it. I ask no inconvenient Kindneſs now, to move thy Paſſion, or to cloud thy Brow; for thou maiſt ſa—tis—fie my coldeſt plea, by ſome few ſoft, ſoft remembrances of me, by ſome few ſoft remembrances of me, by ſome few ſoft re—mem-bran-ces of me. May no Minutes Trouble thee poſſeſs, but only to en—dear the next hours Happineſs. May'ſt thou, when thou art from me remov'd, be e—ver bet—ter pleas'd, but ne—ver worſe be—lov'd.

〈♫〉 AH, cru—el Beauty! could you prove more tender, or leſs fair; you nei—ther would provoke my Love, nor cauſe me to deſpair: But your diſſembling charming Eye, my ea—ſie Hope beguiles; and though a Rock beneath does lye, the tempting Sur—face ſmiles.

〈♫〉 IF mighty Wealth, that gives the Rules to vicious Men, and chea—ted Fools, cou'd but preſerve me in the Prime of bloo—ming Youth, and purchaſe Time; then I wou'd covet Riches too, and ſcrape and cheat as others do; then I wou'd covet Riches too, and ſcrape and cheat as others do: That when the Mi—ni—ſters of Fate, pale Death was knocking at the Gate, I'de ſend him loaded back with Coyn, a Bribe of rich—er Duſt than mine; I'd ſend him loaded back with Coyn, a Bribe of rich—er Duſt than mine; I'd ſend him loaded back with Coyn, a Bribe of rich—er Duſt than mine. But ſince that Life muſt ſlide a—way, and Wealth can't pur—chaſe one poor Day; why ſhou'd my Cares en—creaſe my Pain, and waſt my Time with Sighs in vain, and waſt my Time with Sighs in vain.

Second Part. Since Riches cannot Life ſup- ply, it is a uſeleſs Po—ver—ty, it is a uſe—leſs Po—ver—ty; Since Riches can-not Life ſupply, it is a uſe—leſs Po—ver- ty, it is a uſe—leſs Po—ver—ty. Swi—ft Time, ſwi—ft Time, that can't be bought to ſtay, I'le try to guide the gent—leſt way, I'le try to guide, to guide the gentleſt way. With chearful Friends brisk Wine ſhall paſs, and drown a Care, drown a Care in ev'—ry Glaſs: Sometimes di—ver-ted with Love's Charms, the Cir—cle made by Ce—lia's Arms; ſometimes di—ver—ted with Loves Charms, the Cir—cle made by Celia's Arms.

〈♫〉 IN Courts; Am-bi—tion kills the Great; in Cities, ſtrive for needleſs Gain; ſome do in Battels meet their Fate, but I by Love, by Love, am ſlain: Phacton by Thunder, Thun—der dy'd, Pro—me—theus by the Vultures Pain; this doom'd for Stealth, and that for Pride, but I by Love, by Love am ſlain.

〈♫〉 WHere art thou, God of Dreams! for whoſe ſoft Chain, the beſt of Mankind e—ver do complain; ſince they affect to be, thy Captives before Li—ber—ty, unkind and diſobliging De—i-ty: He flies from Princes, and from Lovers Eyes, yet ev'ry night with the poor Shepherd lyes, yet ev'—ry night with the poo—r Shep—herd lyes. Shew thy ſelf now a God, and take ſome care of the Diſtreſſed, Innocent, and Fair; to reſt, to reſt, diſpoſe the pi—ty'd Maid, her Eye—lids clo—ſe, gently as Evening Dews ſhut up a Roſe: Then bear in ſi—lent Whiſpers in her Ear, ſuch pleaſing words, as Virgins love to hear, as Vir—gins love to hear.

〈♫〉 WHY this talking ſtill of Dying? Why that diſmal Look and Groan? Leave, fond Lover! leave your ſighing, let theſe fruitleſs Arts a—lone: Love's the Child of Joy and Pleaſure, born of Beauty, nurs'd with Wit; much a- mis you take your Meaſure, this dull winning-way to hit.

〈♫〉 AS in thoſe Nations, where they yet a—dore Mar—ble and Cedar, and their Aid implore; 'tis not the Workman, nor the precious Wood, but 'tis the Worſhipper that makes the God. So cru—el Fair! tho' Heav'ns have giv'n you all, we Mor—tals Beauty, or can Virtue call; 'tis we that give the Thunder to your Frowns, Darts to your Eyes, and to our ſelves the Wounds: But for our Love, which proudly you deride, vain were your Beauty, and more vain your Pride; all envy'd Beings which the World can ſhow, un—to ſome mea—ner thing their Greatneſs owe. Sub—jects make Kings, and we the num'rous Train of hum—ble Lo—vers, con—ſti—tute the Reign: This on—ly diff'rence, Beauty's Realm can boaſt, where moſt its Fa—vours it en—ſla—veth moſt; and they to whom it's moſt in—dul—gent found, are al—ways in the ſu- reſt Fetters bound.

〈♫〉 CO—rin—na, with In—no—cence, Beau—ty, and Wit, ev'—ry Sence does in—vade, and my Reaſon perſuade, and with Pleaſure compells me my Freedom to quit; tho' my Tongue has pre—ten—ded to ſerve and a—dore, I find my Heart ne're was in earneſt before: But ſo bright are her Charms, all my Hope, I diſtruſt, my want of Deſert makes my Jea—lou—ſie juſt; if the Joys her Eyes promiſe I ne're muſt ob- tain, let 'em quickly de—ter-mine my Doubts by Diſdain, I am ne're of thoſe Fools who can ſigh and complain: But if ſhe can betray me my Fate, let me meet, let me live in her Arms, or dye at her Feet.

〈♫〉 THere is no Beauty can compare with Divine Ce—lia, lovely, fair; from thoſe bright dazling Suns, her Eyes, fond Li—ber—ty af—frigh-ted flies: And Love it ſelf en- thrall'd remains, a Captive in her Golden Chains.

〈♫〉 HOw lovely's a Woman before ſhe's enjoy'd, when the Spirits are ſtrong, and the Fancy not cloy'd! we admire ev'—ry Part, tho' ne—ver ſo plain, which when throughly poſſeſt, we quickly diſdain.

〈♫〉 OFt am I by the Women told, poor Anacreon, thou grow'ſt old! look how thy Hairs are fal—ling all, poor A—na—creon, how they fall! whether I grow old or no, by th'effects I do not know: This I know without be—ing told, 'tis time to live, if I grow old; 'tis time ſhort Pleaſures now to take, of lit—tle Life the beſt to make, of little Life the beſt to make, and manage wiſely the laſt Stake.

〈♫〉 Oft am I by the Women told, poor Anacreor, thou grow'ſt old! look how thy Hairs are fal—ling all, poor A—na—creon, how they fall! whether I grow old or • o, by th'effects I do not know: This I know without be—ing told, 'tis time to live, 'tis time to live, if I grow old; 'tis time ſhort Pleaſures now to take, of little Life the beſt to make, the beſt to make, and manage wiſely the laſt Stake.

〈♫〉 AH Strephon! that I were but ſure, thy Love, like mine, cou'd ſtill endure; that Time and Abſence, which deſtroys the Cares of Lovers, and their Joys, might never rob me of that part, which you have giv'n me of your Heart; others unenvy'd might poſſeſs, what e—ver they call Happineſs.

〈♫〉 WHen you have broke that ten—der Loy—al Heart, which ſo ma—ny years did faith—ful to you prove; which for your ſake endur'd Love's cru—el ſmart, and when you ſcorn'd, made no re—turn but Love: You then, perhaps, will to Com—paſ—ſion bend, when I'm to De—ſti—ny become a Prey; and then you'l eaſe your Lover and a Friend, you have too pro—di—gal—ly thrown a—way.

〈♫〉 TELL me, ye Gods, why do you prove ſo cruel, ſo ſevere, to make me burn in flames of Love, then throw me in Deſpair? Tell me, what Pleaſure do you find, to force tor—men—ting Fate; to make my Syl—via firſt ſeem kind, then vow perpetual Hate?

〈♫〉 PRoud Stre—phon! do not think my Heart ſo ab—ſo—lute a Slave, nor in ſo mean and ſervile State; but if I ſay, That you're ingrate, I've Pride and Pow'r e—nough your Chains to brave.

〈♫〉 WHY ſhould Clauſa, young and fair, her ſelf a Foe to Love declare? Why ſhould ſuch Charms as hers be giv'n, to one that is more deaf than Heav'n, to one that is more deaf than Heav'n.

〈♫〉 LOng wreſtling with an An—gel's form, I've almoſt weather'd out the Storm; and made the bright Au re—lia yield, to pi—ty one her Frowns had kill'd; But pi-ty beaming from her Eyes, has made the Wretch, tho' dead, to riſe; but Pi—ty beaming from her Eyes, has made the Wretch, tho' dead, to riſe.

〈♫〉 IN th'Evening's Dawn, when Nymphs and Swains fold their Flocks up- on the Plains, and then re—tire in—to the Grove, to Dance and Sing, and talk of Love; there a—lone Strephon ſate, and thus he did be—moan his Fate: Why, oh why ſhou'd Phil—lis be to all the World ſo gay and free, and yet ſo cold, and yet ſo cold, ſo wond'rous cold to me; Soft. and yet ſo cold, and yet ſo cold, ſo wond'rous cold to me? The Nymph who now was ſet among Swains and Nymphs, a mer—ry Throng, with ma—ny Lo—vers by her Side, the me—lan—cho—ly Stre—phon ſpy'd; ſhe roſe and left the Crowd, and thus ac—coſts the Swain a—loud: O Strephon! ſure that Nymph, ſaid ſhe, muſt hap—py, ve—ry hap—py be, that can provoke, that can provoke ſuch ſe—rious Thoughts in thee, that ca—n provoke ſuch ſe—rious Thoughts in thee.

〈♫〉 WIne, Wine in a Morning makes us youthful and gay, like Wine, Wine in a Morning, &c. Eagles we ſoar in the Pride of the Day, Gouty Sots of the Night on—ly find a De- day; Gouty Sots of the Night on—ly find a De—cay. 'Tis the Sun ripes the Grape, and for Drin—king gives Light, we i—mi—tate him when by Noon we're at height; we i—mi—tate him when by Noon we're at height; they ſteal Wine, who take it when he's out of ſight.

〈♫〉 AH Clo—rin-da! can't I move you, when you're Conſcious that I love you! Can you, when ſo Fair, be Cruel, to re—turn me a De—ni—al! If you do not ſoon Re—lieve me, Fate will then de—prive you of me; and you'l ne—ver then re—co—ver, af—ter Death, your Breath-leſs Lover.

〈♫〉 DO—rin—da, ſince your Charms de—cline, in vain you bid me love you more; when Beau—ties ceaſe to be Divine, 'tis I—do—li—zing to Adore: Your Eyes, that once with pow'rful In—flu—ence, loves richeſt Fruits pro—duc'd up—on my Heart; now with di vi-neſt Light their Beams diſpence, and fail to wound with all the helps of Art, with all the helps of Art.

〈♫〉 MUſt I e—ver ſigh in vain? Muſt I ſuf—fer endleſs Pain? Trembling at your Feet I languiſh, hear my Grief, oh ſee my Anguiſh! Muſt I e—ver ſigh in vain? Muſt I ſuf—fer endleſs Pain? All my Actions ſhews I love you, oh, be kind! let Pi—ty move you! Muſt I e—ver ſigh in vain? Muſt I ſuffer endleſs Pain.

〈♫〉 HOw ſweet is the Air, and refreſhing, comes over the Neighbouring Plain; this e—ver was coun—ted a Bleſſing, 'mongſt o—ther Enjoyments or Swains: It ſwee—tens our Humours, which glide in our Veins, like Streams in the Channels, and ſof—ten our Strains.

〈♫〉 How ſweet is the Air, &c.

vocal join Chorus. 〈♫〉 Whilſt we ſing by a Fountain ſur—roun—ded with Hills, and the gen—tle Nymphs Ec—cho's does keep up the Trills.

〈♫〉 Whilſt we ſing, &c.

〈♫〉 I Love, but dare not hope to be, the leaſt belov'd a—gain; yet ne—ver well, but when I ſee the Ob—ject of my Pain: But I muſt ab—ſent be for Years, yet languiſh for my Love; and my Deſires muſt quench in Tears, 'till Death doth them remove.

〈♫〉 RE—turn, fair Princeſs of the blooming Year! For you we Lan—guiſh, and for you we Long; you heighten our Mirth, and en—li—ven our Song; you on—ly our drooping Spirits can chear: For you impriſon'd Nature do Re- prieve, you all Crea—tures do Relieve; tho' their Pining, and Declining, you can Life and Vigour give; tho' their Pi-ning, and De—cli—ning, you can Life and Vigour give. Oh, the Joys that do attend you! Oh, the Charms that ſtill commend you! For your Abſence here we mourn; here we Languiſh, all in Anguiſh, 'till thoſe happy Days return. Oh, the Joys that do attend you! Oh, the Charms that ſtill commend you! Tho' we now are cold and fainting, tho' we're ſpi—rit—leſs and panting; if you viſit once our Clime, then we'l Chant it, and Gal—lant it, and with joy adore your Shrine; then we'l Chant it, and Gal—lant it, and with joy a—dore your Shrine.

〈♫〉 UN—der a Shade in flow—ry June, I and dear Phillis lay; where we ſuch Plea—ſures did en—joy, no Tongue can e—ver ſay: She full of Charms, and I faſt lock'd within her Arms, did Love, and Sigh, and Kiſs the Time away.

〈♫〉 I Love, and am belov'd again, I care not who does know it; I am a conſtant faith—ful Swain, and be'nt aſham'd to ſhew it: For ſince my Sylvia merits more, than Mortal Man can give her; I will e-ver her Adore, and ne—ver, ne—ver leave her.

〈♫〉 IN vain I ſtrive againſt my Fate, to conquer all your Charming ways; which makes me love, when I ſhou'd hate, and wiſh with you to ſpend my Days: But, oh! if all my Fears are true, and you in—con-ſtant prove to me; I'd better dye than trou—ble you, and date my Eaſe from Mi—ſe—ry.

〈♫〉 FIll, fill, fill the Boul with Ro—ſie Wine, fill, fill the Boul with Ro—ſie Wine, with Roſie Wine, a—rou—nd our Temples, a—rou—nd our Temples Roſes twine; and let us chear—ful—ly a-while, and let us chear—ful—ly a-while, like the Wine and Roſes ſmile, like the Wine and Ro—ſes ſmile: Crown'd with Ro—ſes, we contemn, Gy-ges wealthy Di—a—dem; crown'd with Roſes, we contemn, Gy—ges wealthy Di-a-dem. To day is ours, to day is ours, what do we fear? What do we fear? To day is ours, what, what, what do we fear? To day is ours, is ours, we have it here; let's treat it, treat it kind—ly, that it may wiſh, at leaſt with us to ſtay; let's treat it kind—ly, that it may wiſh, at leaſt, with us to ſtay: Let's ba—niſh Bus'neſs, ba—niſh Sorrow, to the Gods be—long to Morrow; let's ba—niſh Bus'neſs, ba—niſh Sorrow, to the Gods be—long to Morrow.

〈♫〉 FIll, fill the Boul with Ro—ſie Wine, fill, fill the Boul with Ro—ſie Wine, the Boul with Ro—ſie Wine, a—rou—nd our Temples Ro—ſes twine; and let us chear—ful—ly a- while, like the Wine and Ro—ſes ſmile, like the Wine and Roſes ſmile: Crown'd with Ro—ſes, we contemn, Gy—ges wealthy Di—a—dem; crown'd with Roſes, we contemn, Gy—ges wealthy Di-a-dem. To day is ours, is ours, what do we fear? To day is ours, what do we fear? what, what do we fear? To day is ours, is ours, we have it here; let's treat it, treat it kindly, that it may wiſh, at leaſt, with us to ſtay; let's treat it kind—ly, that it may wiſh, at leaſt with us to ſtay: Let's baniſh Bus'neſs, ba-niſh Sorrow, to the Gods be- long to morrow; let's ba—niſh Bus'neſs, ba—niſh Sorrow, to the Gods belong to Morrow.

〈♫〉 I Yield, I yield! Divine Al—thea, ſee! how proſtrate at thy Feet I bow; fondly in love with my Cap-ti—vi—ty, ſo weak am I, ſo mighty thou: Not long a—go I cou'd de—fy, arm'd with Wine and Company, Beauty's whole Ar-til—le—ry. Quite vanquiſh'd now by thy mi-ra-cu-lous Charms, here fair Al-the—a! take my Arms; for ſure, he cannot be of Humane Race, that can re—ſiſt ſo bright, ſo ſweet a Face.

〈♫〉 THe ſweet Me—li—na's Eyes ſo wounds my Heart, that thence the Pains dif- fus'd thro' ev'—ry Part; and I no more can live, if ſhe's un—kind, ye Gen—tle Pow'rs, let me ſome Pi—ty find! I at your Altar humbly tell my Grief, Oh let her, let her of—fer ſome Relief! Oh let her, let her of—fer ſome Relief! Did ſhe but know my Love, ſhe'd make me bleſt, ſuch Love as mine might thaw a frozen Breaſt, much more Melina's, whoſe ſweet Humour's ſuch, that Pen nor Tongue can ne—ver Praiſe too much: Deal kindly with your poor un—hap—py Swain, let me not love, let me not beg in vain; let me not love, let me not beg in vain. I have more va—lue for her pleaſing Smile, than the va—ſt Treaſures of this Wealthy lſle; one gentle Look from fair Me—li—na's Eyes, I do much more than the rich In—dies prize; I do much more, much more, I do much more, much more than the rich In—dies prize; I do much more, much more than the rich In—dies prize. Ah charming Fair! 'tis Love for Love you owe, no greater Bleſſing I deſire to know; my Love is fix'd, it never ſhall re—move, I'le be Me—li—na's Martyr, or her Love, or her Love; I'le be Me—li—na's, I'le be Me—li—na's Mar—tyr, or her Love. Yet ſhou'd Me—li—na cheriſh my De—ſire, and blow my Dying Em—bers to a Fire; ſo bright, and ſo devout, that Flame ſhou'd be, as might appeaſe an an—gry De—i—ty.

〈♫〉 HOw oft did Love aſſault young Strephon's Breaſt, yet in his Heart, in his Heart cou'd gain no In—te—reſt? When thouſand, thouſand, thou—ſand Beauties took the Field, when thouſand Beau—ties took the Field, and made as ma—ny Lo—vers yield: He ſaw the Light, but ſelt no heat; he ſaw the Light, but felt no heat, with a—ll their Lambent Fire be—ſet. This great Succeſs, this great Succeſs, made the bold Youth deſpiſe, all the Charms, all the Charms, the Cha—rms, that cou'd from Beau—ty a—riſe. Love highly in—cens'd in Am—buſh does lye, to tame the proud Rebel that his Pow'r does de—ny; Love highly in—cens'd in Ambuſh does lye, to tame the proud Rebel that his Pow'r does de—ny, to tame the proud Rebel that his Pow'r does deny. And now the fa—tal Hour is come, wherein the Swain receives his Doom: He ſees, he burns, he ſighs, he dyes, ſlain by his Ce—lia's darting Eyes; for he that in great War prevails, oft in ſin—gle Du-el fails. Happy is Strephon in this his true Paſſion, the Nymph on his Pain at length had compaſſion: In her ſoft Charms he en- joys ſuch a Treaſure, there's nothing that's Mortal can e—qual his Pleaſure; in her ſoft Charms he en—joys ſuch a Treaſure, there's nothing that's Mortal can equal his Pleaſure, Soft. there's nothing that's Mortal can e—qual his Pleaſure.

〈♫〉 FAir angry Nymph! this Pride is loſt, this Scorn, theſe Frowns ſuc-ceſs—leſs are; when Thun—der, when Thun—der from the Cloud is toſs'd, we grow de—vou—ter than we were; If Heav'n in Smiles were always dreſt, we ſhou'd neglect the Pow'r of Fate; Danger, and fear to be op—preſt, 'tis that which makes De- votion great; Danger, and fear to be op—preſt,'tis that which makes De-vo—tion great. Let your Eyes with Light'ning blaſt, let your Brow to Thunder turn; content, and pleaſ'd, I'le breath my laſt, and rather than not Love, I'le burn: Let your Eyes with Light'ning blaſt, let your Brow to Thunder turn; content, and pleas'd, I'le breath my laſt, and rather than not love, I'le burn. With Beauty, as with Heav'n, we find, the Zealous al—ways beſt ſucceed; Love, and the Gods, are ſtill moſt kind, to thoſe that for their Faith will bleed; ſtill moſt kind, to thoſe, to thoſe that for their Faith will bleed.

〈♫〉 PHillis, I muſt needs confeſs, that I am ſic—kle grown of late; and now to Ce—lia's Charms addreſs, that Love, which yours did firſt cre—ate: Not that I think your Beau—ty leſs, than her's, who does my Heart poſſeſs, than her's, who does my Heart poſ—ſeſs; but 'tis the Will, the Will of Fate, but 'tis the Will, the Will of Fate.

〈♫〉 SInce the Spring comes on, and the teaming Earth, gives Plants and Flow'rs a kindly Birth; ſince all things in one great de—ſign, of Gay—e—ty and Mirth com- bine, of Gay—e—ty and Mirth combine: Why ſhou'd not we as gay appear, and meet with joy t • e blooming Year, the bloo—ming Year? Why ſhou'd not we as gay ap—pear, and meet with joy, and meet with joy, the bloo— —ming Year, the bloo—ming Year? Come then to the Gods of the Hills, and the Lawns, the Sylvia's, the Satyrs, the Nymphs, and the Fawns; with all De-vo-ti-on we'l Altars erect, and ſacrifice free-ly of what they protect, and ſa—cri—fice freely of what they protect. To Flora firſt, an Off'ring of her own fragrant wreaths we'l bring; to Flora firſt, an Off'ring of her own fragrant wreaths we'l bring; and then for Pan, take from his Dam, ſome frisking Kid, or wanton Lamb; and then for Pan, take from his Dam, ſome frisking Kid, or wan—ton Lamb, ſome frisking Kid, or wanton Lamb. Nor ſhall it be the leaſt of our Care, that Cupid, in all we perform, have a Share. A Tide of Love now fills our Veins, and o're all o—ther Paſ—ſions reigns; a Tide of Love now fills our Veins, and o're all o—ther Paſſions reigns. This therefore is the Seaſon, the Amorous to en- joy, ſince Nature commands our Reaſon, our Dictates to obey: With Mirth, and Rural Innocence, each Shepherd does Ca—reſs his Mate; none e're ſhall give, or take Offence, but Birds and Lambs will i—mi—tate.

〈♫〉 SOme Wine Boys, ſome Wine, fill it up, fill it up, un—til it touch the edge of the Cup; we'l not al—ter our Pace, we'l not alter our Pace, nor put on a grave Face, but drink, drink ho, drink to the brim, to our better Acquaintance, to our better Acquaintance, here's to thee Tim: This Drink is rare, and ſomewhat Divine, thank Wilſon and Holms, and Holms, that provides us ſuch Wine: Then drink, drink ho, drink, then drink, drink ho, drink, and off with the Stoop, and ſtill as we drink, and ſtill as we drink, let us hollow and hoop. A—no-ther Health, a-no-ther Health, a Health, a Health to the Head of the Feaſt, and let him be happy, be happy, when Mil— —lons, when Mil—ons are turn'd in—to Clay.

〈♫〉 Some Wine Boys, ſome Wine, fill it up, un—til it touch the edge of the Cup; we'l not alter our Pace, nor put on a grave Face, but drink, drink ho, to the Brim, to our better Acquaintance, to our better Acquaintance, here's to thee Tim: This Drink is rare, and ſomewhat Divine, thank Wilſon and Holms, that provides us ſuch Then drink, drink ho, drink, and off with the Stoop, and ſtill as we drink, let us hollow and hoop. A—no-ther Health, a Health, a Health to the Head of the Feaſt, and let him be happy, be happy, when Millons, wn Mil— —lons, when Mil—lons are turn'd in—to Clay.

〈♫〉 〈♫〉

〈♫〉 WHen firſt A—min—tas ſu'd for a Kiſs, my innocent Heart was tender; that tho' I puſh'd him a—way from the Bliſs, my Eyes declar'd my Heart was won; I fain an artful Coyneſs wou'd uſe, before I the Fort did ſurrender: But Love wou'd ſuffer no more ſuch Abuſe, and ſoon, a-las! my Cheat was known. He'd ſit all day, and laugh and play, a thouſand pret—ty things wou'd ſay; my Hand he'd ſqueeſe, and preſs my Knees, 'till far-ther on he got by degrees.

〈♫〉 NO Be—ing is exempt from Love, why then a fault in me? From ev'—ry In—ſect, up to Jove, they love, and yet are free: Nature no ſtricter. Law deſign'd, than what our Paſſions make; the Gods left Na—ture un-con-fin'd, that we might freedom take. Then why, too cru—el Law! a Slave muſt Vertuous Women be? 'Tis on—ly Vertuous to be brave, to love, to love at li—ber—ty.

〈♫〉 FIll me a Boul, a migh—ty Boul, large as my ca—pa-cious Soul; fill me a Boul, a migh—ty Boul, large as my ca-pa-cious Soul: Vaſt as my Thirſt is, let it have depth enough, to be my Grave; I mean, the Grave of all my Care, for I de—ſign to bu—ry't there. Fill me a Boul, a mighty Boul, large as my ca- pacious Soul; fill me a Boul, a migh—ty Boul, large as my ca—pa—cious Soul; Let it of Silver faſhion'd be, worthy of Wine, worthy of me; wor—thy to a- dorn the Spheres, as that bright Cup a—mongſt the Stars. Fill me a Boul, a migh—ty Boul, large as my ca—pa cious Soul; fill me a Boul, a mighty Boul, large as my capacious Soul.

〈♫〉 I'Le ſing of Hero's, and of Kings, in mighty Numbers, mighty Things; be- gin, my Muſe! but lo! the Strings to my great Song re—bel—lious prove, the Strings will ſound of nought but Love, Soft. the Strings will ſound of nought but Love. I broke them all, and put on new, 'tis this, or nothing ſure will do; Theſe ſure, ſaid I, will me o—bey, theſe ſure He—ro—ick Notes will play: Strait I be—gan with Thun—dring Jove, and all th'Im—mor—tal Pow'rs but Love. Love ſmil'd, and from my'nfeebled Lyre, came gentle Ayres, ſuch as inſpire melting Love, and ſoft De—ſire; fare—wel then He—ro's, fare—wel Kings, and mighty Numbers, mighty Things, Love tunes my Heart, Love tunes my Heart, juſt to my Strings.

CHORUS. A. 3 Voc. Altus, Tenor, and Baſs. 〈♫〉 Fare—wel then Hero's, fare—wel Kings, and mighty Numbers, mighty, mighty Things, Lo— —ve tunes my Heart, my Heart, juſt to my Strings, Soft. Love tunes my Heart, my Heart, juſt to my Strings.

〈♫〉 Fare—wel then Hero's, farewel Kings, and mighty Numbers, mighty, migh—ty Things, Love tunes my Heart juſt to my Strings, Soft. Love tunes my Heart juſt to my Strings.

〈♫〉 Fare—wel then Hero's, then fare-wel Kings, & mighty Numbers, mighty Things, Lo— —ve tunes my Heart, my Heart, juſt to my Strings, Soft. Love tunes my Heart, my Heart, juſt to my Strings.

〈♫〉 STrephon was young, un—us'd to love, at firſt with Fears poſſeſt; but he for Conqueſt on 'em ſtrove, and was with Conqueſt bleſt: So th'untry'd Captain in the Field, well pleas'd at firſt to fly; when warm'd a little, ſcorns to yield, but there reſolves to dye.

〈♫〉 OH So-li-tude! my ſwee—teſt Choice! Oh So-li-tude! Oh So-li-tude! my ſwee—teſt, ſweeteſt Choice! Places de—vo—ted to the Night, remote from Tumult, and from Noiſe, how ye my Reſt—leſs Thoughts delight! Oh So—li—tude! Oh So—li—tude! my ſwee—teſt, ſweeteſt Choice! Oh Heavens! what Con—tent is mine, to ſee thoſe Trees, which have appear'd, from the Na- ti-vi-ty of Time; and, which all A—ges have remitt'd, to look to day as freſh and green, to look to day as freſh and green, as when their Beauties firſt were ſeen? Oh! Oh how a—gree—a—ble a Sight theſe hanging Mountains do ap- pear, which th'unhappy would invite, to fi—niſh all their Sorrows here; when their hard, their hard Fate makes them endure, ſuch Woes, ſuch Woes, as on—ly Death can Cure. Oh! Oh how I So—li—tude Adore! Oh! Oh how I So—li—tude A—dore, that E—le—ment of no—bleſt Wit, where I have learn'd, where I have learn'd A-pol—lo's love, without the pains, the pains, to ſtu—dy it: For thy ſake I in love am grown, with what thy fan—cy, thy fancy, does purſue; but when I think upon my own, I hate it, I hate it, for that reaſon too; becauſe it needs muſt hinder me, from ſeeing, from ſeeing, and from ſerving thee. Oh So—li—tude! Oh how I So—li—tude Adore!

〈♫〉 CEaſe, anxious World, your fruit—leſs Pain; ceaſe, ceaſe, ceaſe, anxious World, your fruit—leſs Pain, to gra—ſp for-bid-den Store; your ſtu-dy'd La—bours ſhall prove vain, your Al—chy—my unbleſt; whilſt Seeds of far more pre—cious Ore, are ripen'd, are ripen'd in my Breaſt: My Breaſt, the Forge of hap—pi—er Love, where my Lu—cin—da, my Lu—cin—da lies; and the rich Stock does ſo improve, as ſhe her Art employs; that ev'—ry Smile and Touch ſhe gives, turns all to Golden Joys. Since then we can ſuch Treaſures raiſe, let's no Expence re- fuſe; in love let's lay out all our Days, how can we e're be Poor? How can we e're be Poor? How can we e're be Poor, when ev'-ry Bleſſing that we uſe, begets a thouſand more? When ev'ry Bleſſing that we uſe, be—gets a thouſand more? Soft. When ev'ry Bleſſing that we uſe, begets a thouſand more.

〈♫〉 AMidſt the Shades, and cool re-fre-ſhing Streams, where Lovers eaſe their panting Hearts in Dreams, poor Damon lay; his Grief, his Grief, ſo ſad—ly printed in his Face, his Looks diſturb'd the Pleaſures of the place: In hol—low Notes he ſung his wretched Fate, his hopeleſs Love, and his A—min-ta's Hate; the trem—bling Birds about him throng, li—ſten, and murmur at his Song, which hinder'd their ſweet Strains ſo long, which hinder'd their ſweet Strains ſo long. But ſtreight with charming Notes, they ſtretch their war—bling Throats; and all with one Conſent and Voice, invite the Shepherd to rejoyce: But ſtreight with charming Notes, they ſtretch their war—bling Throats; and all with one Conſent and Voice, in—vite the Shepherd to re- joyce, in—vite the Shepherd to rejoyce. But what can his ſad Soul inſpire, his Heart ſo much by Grief oppreſt? A Sigh (alas!) breaks from his Breaſt, which frights the harm—leſs Birds, and damps the chear—ful Quire.

〈♫〉 HOw I have ſerv'd, how juſt or true, I need appeal to none but you; for all my Thoughts from you took Birth, my ſole Di-vi—ni—ty on Earth: Nor does a Wiſh, which upward flies, petition from Heav'ns Deities, ought but to fall your much-lov'd Sa-cri- fice. When Tongue griev'd, Accents can no more impart, and Sighs lament ex—piring Heart; when Anguiſh'd Soul in ſtrong Convulſion lyes, and rapid Tears o'reflowing melting Eyes; then, then Cla—ri—a—na, you'l find, and grieve, a fleeting Life no Pow'r can retrieve; nor gain, from Fare, a Mo—ment of Reprieve.

CHORUS. A. 3 Voc. Altus, Medius, Baſſus, & Continuo Baſſe. 〈♫〉 So gent—ly glide my Soul, that thou may'ſt be, tran—ſla—ted to E—ter—ni- ty, to meet thoſe Joys for faithful Loves aſ—ſign • d; with fall ſwoln Bliſs, and knotty Cares unbind, and leave the Torments of the World behind.

〈♫〉 So gent—ly glide my Soul, that thou may'ſt be, tran—ſla—ted to E—ter—ni- ty, to meet thoſe Joys for faithful Loves aſſign'd; with full ſwoln Bliſs, and knotty Cares, and knotty Cares unbind, and leave the Torments of the World behind.

〈♫〉 So gent—ly glide my Soul, that thou may'ſt be, tranſlated to E—ter—ni- ty, to meet thoſe Joys for faithful Loves aſſign'd; with full ſwoln Bliſs, and knotty Cares, and knotty Cares unbind, and leave the Torments of the World behind.

〈♫〉

〈♫〉 I Little thought, thou fond ingrateful Sin! when firſt I let thee in, and gave thee but a part in my un—wa—ry Heart; I lit—tle thought, that thou would'ſt e're have grown, ſo falſe, or ſtrong, to make it all thine own: At mine own Breaſt, with care I fed thee ſtill, letting thee ſuck thy fill; and dain-ti-ly I nouriſh'd thee, with i-dle Thoughts, and Poetry! What ill Returns doſt thou al- low? I ſed thee then, and thou, thou doſt ſtarve me now. There was a time, when thou waſt cold and chill, nor hadſt the pow'r of doing ill; in-to my Boſom did I take, this fro—zen and be-num-ed Snake, not fearing from it a—ny harm; but now it ſtings that Breaſt which made it warm. What curſed Weed's this Love! But one Grain ſow, and the whole Field 'twill o—ver-grow; ſtraight will it choak up, and de- vour, each whol—ſom Herb, Soft. each wholſom Herb, and beauteous Flow'r! Nay, unleſs ſomething ſoon I do, 'twill kill, I fear, 'twill kill, I fear, my ve—ry Laurel too. But now all's gone, I now, a—las! I now, a—las! com- plain, declare, proteſt, and threat in vain; ſince by my own un—forc'd Con- ſent, the Traytor has my Go—vern—ment, and is ſo ſet—tl'd in the Throne, that 'twere Re—bel—lion now, 'twere Re—bel—lion now, to claim mine own.

〈♫〉 IN ſome kind Dream up—on her Slumbers ſteal, and to Lu- cyn—da, all I beg, re—veal; breath gent—leſt Words in—to her Ears, words full of Love, words full of Love, but full of Fears; ſuch words as may prevail, like Pray'rs from a poor dy—ing Martyr's tongue, from a poor dy—ing Martyr's Tongue, by the ſweet Voice of Pi—ty ſung. Touch, touch with the Voice the more in—chan—ting Lute, touch with the Voice the more in- chan—ting Lute, to make the Charms ſtrike, ſtrike all Re—pul—ſes mute: Theſe may in—ſen—ſi—bly impart, theſe may in- ſen—ſi—bly impart, my tender Wiſhes to her Heart, and by a ſym-pa—the-tick force, ſo tune its Strings to Love's Diſcourſe; that when my Griefs com—pell a Groan, Soft. her Sighs may Ec—cho, Ec—cho to my Moan.

〈♫〉 In ſome kind Dream up—on her Slumbers ſteal, and to Lu- cyn—da, all I beg, re—veal; breath gent—leſt Words in—to her Ears, words full of Love, full of Love, full of Love, but full of Fears; ſuch words as may prevail, like Pray'rs from a poor dying Martyr's tongue, from a poor dying Martyr's, Martyr's to gue, by the ſweet Voice of Pi—ty ſung, of Pi—ty ſung. Touch, touch with the Voice, touch with the Voice the more in—chan—ting Late, the more in—chan—ting Lute, to make the Charms ſtrike, ſtrike all Re—pul—ſes mute: Theſe may in-ſen—ſi—bly impart, theſe may in—ſen—ſi—bly im- part, my ten—der Wiſhes, tender Wiſhes to her Heart, and by a ſym-pa-the-tick force, ſo tune its Strings to Love's Diſcourſe; that when my Griefs com—pell a Groan, Soft. her Sighs may Ec—cho, Ec—cho to my Moan.

〈♫〉 〈♫〉 〈♫〉

〈♫〉 WHen I drink, my Heart is poſſeſt, my Heart is poſ- ſeft, with a Joy that ſlides through my Breaſt; my Thoughts and my Fancy grow fir'd by the Wine, not the Mu—ſes inſpir'd; my Cares grow becalm'd when I drink, my Cares grow becalm'd when I drink, and down, down with the Stream, they all ſink; and dow—n, down, down, down, down with the Stream, they all ſink, and dow—n, down, down, down, down with the Stream, they all ſink. Harpſi-hord. The God I enjoy with the Wine, and my Humour grows more Di—vine; like Bacchus, with freſh Ro—ſes crown'd, with freſh Ro—ſes crown'd, the fragrant O—dours ſtea—ling rou—nd: Thus, thus I tri—umph a—bove all Strife, thus I tri—umph, and ſing the ſweetneſs of this Life, Soft. and ſing the ſweet- neſs of this Life. When I drink with Glaſſes full charg'd, my Spirits grow free, and en—lar—g'd; when I drink, my Spirits grow free, and en- larg'd, grow free and en—larg'd. Among Troops of Beauties I play, and rais'd a—bove thoughts of De—cay, and rais'd a—bove thoughts of De- cay. When I drink, I ſing the ſoft Charms of Ve—nus, and claſp in my Arms my Miſtreſs, who then ſeems to me a Goddeſs too, as bright as ſhe; who then ſeems to me a Goddeſs too, as bright as ſhe. When I drink, when I drink, th'ad- vantage I find, from Trou—bles, from Troubles, to ſhelter my Mind; this, this is the Bleſſing alone, this, this is the Bleſ—ſing a—lone, that we that live can call our own. You that ſeek more, tell me but why, tell me, tell me but why, ſince all a—like muſt one day dye; all, all, all a—like muſt one day dye? You that ſeek more, tell me but why, ſince all alike muſt one day dye; all, all, all, all alike muſt one day dye; all, all, all, all alike muſt one day dye.

〈♫〉 When I drink, my Heart is poſſeſt, with a Joy that ſlides through my Breaſt; my Thoughts and my Fancy grow fir'd, fir'd by the Wine, not the Muſes inſpir'd; my Cares grow becalm'd when I drink, my Cares grow be- calm'd when I drink, and down, down, down with the Stream, they all ſink; my Cares grow becalm'd when I drink, and dow—n, down with the Stream, they all ſink: my Cares grow becalm'd when I drink, and down, down with the Stream, they all ſink. The God I enjoy with the Wine, & my Humour grows more Di—vine; like Bacchus, with freſh Ro—ſes crown'd, the fragrant O—dours ſtealing rou—nd, ſtealing round: Thus, thus I tri—umph, I tri—umph, I triumph a—bove all Strife, and ſing the ſweetneſs of this Life, Soft. and ſing the ſweet- neſs of this Life. Harpſichord. When I drink with Glaſſes full charg'd my Spirits grow free, and en—lar—g'd; when I drink, my Spirits grow free, and en- larg'd, grow free, and en—lar—g'd. Among troops of Beauties I play, and rais'd above thoughts of Decay, and rais'd a—bove thoughts of De- cay. When I drink, I ſing the ſoft Charms of Ve—nus, and claſp in my Arms my Miſtreſs, who then ſeems to me a Goddeſs too, as bright as ſhe; who then ſeems to me a Goddeſs too, as bright as ſhe. Harpſichord. When I drink, when I drink, th'ad- vantage I find, from Trou—bles, to ſhelter my Mind; this, this is the Bleſſing a—lone, this, this is the Bleſſing alone, that we that live can call our own. You that ſeek more, tell me but why, tell me but why, ſince all a—like muſt one day dye, ſince all a—like, all, all a—like muſt one day dye; all, all, all a—like, all, all a—like, all alike muſt one day dye; ſince all a- like, all, all a—like muſt one day dye; ſince all a—like, all, all alike muſt one day dye.

〈♫〉 〈♫〉 〈♫〉 〈♫〉 〈♫〉 〈♫〉 〈♫〉

〈♫〉 〈♫〉 〈♫〉 〈♫〉

〈♫〉 GO, perjur'd Man, and if thou e're re—turn; go perjur'd Man, and if thou e'—re return, to ſee the ſmall Re-main-der of my Urn; and if thou e're re—turn, re—turn, re—turn, to ſee, to ſee the ſmall re—main—der of my Urn. When thou ſhalt laugh, ſhalt lau—gh at my Re—li—gious Duſt, and ask where's now, where's now the colour, form, and truſt of Woman's Beauty? And per- haps with rude, with rude hands, perhaps with rude hands, rifle the Flours wch the Virgins ſtru'd. Know I've pray'd to Pi—ty, that the Wind may blow my Aſhes up; know I've pray'd to Pi—ty, that the Wind may blow my Aſhes up, may blow my A—ſhes up, and ſtrike thee blind.

〈♫〉 Go perjur'd Man, and if thou e're re—turn; go, perjur'd Man, and if thou e're return, and if thou e're re—turn, to ſee the ſmall remainder of my Urn; and if thou e're re—turn, re—turn, to ſee, to ſee the ſmall re—main—der of my Urn. When thou ſhalt laugh, ſhalt lau—gh at my Re—li—gious Duſt, and ask where's now the co—lour, form, and truſt of Woman's Beauty? And perhaps with rude hands, with rude hands, and perhaps with rude hands, ri— • le the Flours wch the Virgins ſtrewd. Know • ve pray'd to Pi—ty, that the Wind may blow my A—ſhes up; Know I've pray'd to Pi—ty, that the Wind may blow my A—ſhes up, and ſtrike thee blind; that the Wind may blow my A—ſhes up, and ſtrike thee blind.

〈♫〉 〈♫〉

〈♫〉 O Love, that ſtronger art than Wine! Pleaſing De—lu—ſion, Witchery Divine; wont to be priz'd above all Wealth, Diſeaſe that ha—s more Joys than Health: Tho' we blaſpheme thee in our Pain, and of thy Ty-ran-ny complain, we all are better'd by thy Reign, we all are better'd by thy Reign; what Reaſon ne— —ver can beſtow, we to this uſeful Paſſion owe. Love wakes the Dull from ſluggiſh Eaſe, and learns a Clown the Art to pleaſe; humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold, makes Miſers free, and Cowards bold: 'Tis he reforms the Set from Drink, and teaches Airy Fops to think; 'tis he reforms the Sot from Drink, and teaches Ai—ry Fops to think. When full brute Ap—pe—tite is fed, and choak'd the Glutton lyes, and dead; thou new Spirit doſt diſpence, and fi—ne, the groſs de— ligh—ts of Sence; Virtue's un-conqu'-ra-ble Aid, that againſt Nature can per- ſwade; and make a Ro—ving Mind retire, with—in the Bounds of juſt De—ſire; Chearer of Age, Youth's kind unreſt, and half the Heav'n of the bleſt, and half the Heav'n of the bleſt.