A PASTORAL ELEGY On the DEATH of Mr. John Playford.
[Note, The Notes with this Mark* over them, are to be sung Demiquavers.]
[...] GEntle Shepherds, you that know the Charms of Tune╌ful Breath, that [...] [...] Harmony in Grie╌f can show, Lament, Lament, for Pi╌ous The╌ron's Death! [...] [...] Theron, the good, the friend-ly Theron's gone! Theron, Theron, the good, the friend╌ly Theron's [...] [...] gone! Ren╌ding Mountains, weeping Fountains, groaning Dales, and ecchoing Vales, if [...] [Page 2] [...] you want Skill, will teach you how to moan, to moa╌n; ren╌ding Mountains, weeping Fountains, groaning Dales, and ecchoing Vales, if you want Skill, will [...] [...] teach you how to moan, to moa╌n; will teach, will teach you how to moan. Could Innocence or [...] [...] Pi╌e╌ty, ex╌pi╌ring Life maintain; or Art pre╌vail on De╌sti╌ny, Theron [...] [...] still, still had grac'd the Plain, belov'd of Pan, and dear to Phebus Train; Theron still had grac'd the [...] [...] Plain, belov'd of Pan, and dear to Phebus Train. Muses, bring your Ro╌ses hither, strew them [...] [Page 3] [...] gent╌ly on his Hearse; Muses, bring your Ro╌ses hither, strew them gent╌ly on his Hearse; [...] [...] and when those short liv'd Glo╌ries wither, crown it with a lasting Verse, crown it with a [...] [...] la╌sting Verse; and when those short-liv'd Glories wither, crown it with a lasting Verse. [...] [...] Roses soon will fade away, Verse and Tomb must both de╌cay; yet Theron's Name in [...] [...] spight of Fate's Decree, an end╌less Fame shall meet; no Verse so du╌ra╌ble can be, nor [...] [...] Ro╌ses half so sweet, nor Ro╌ses half so sweet. [...]
CHORUS.
[...] Then wast no more, no more; then wast no more in Sighs your Breath, nor think his Fate was hard; Then wast no more, no more; then wast no more in Sighs your Breath, nor think his Fate was hard; there's no such thing as Suddain Death, to those that al╌ways are prepar'd: Prepar'd like him by Har╌mo╌ny and Love, to joyn at first approach, to joyn at first approach, the Sa╌cred Quire above; to joyn at first approach, to joyn at first approach the Sa╌cred Quire a╌bove. there's no such thing as Suddain Death, to those that al╌ways are prepar'd: Prepar'd like him by Har╌mo╌ny and Love, to joyn at first approach, at first approach, the Sa╌cred Quire above; to joyn at first approach, to joyn at first approach, at first approach the Sacred Quire above.
The ARIELS Songs in the Play call'd the TEMPEST.
[...] COme unto these yellow Sands, and there take hands; Curtsy'd when you have and Kiss'd the wild Waves whist: [...] [...] Foot it gently here and there, and sweet Spirits the burthen bear: Hark! hark! bough wough, the watch Dogs [...] [...] Bark, bough wough: Hark! hark! I hear the strain of strutting Chanticleer, cry Cock-a-doodle-do. [...]
[...] DRy those Eyes which are o're-flowing, all your Storms are over-blowing; while you in this [...] [...] Isle are biding, you shall feast without providing: Ev'ry Dainty you can think of, ev'ry Wine which [...] [...] you would drink of, shall be yours; all want shall shun you, Ceres blessing so light on you. [...]