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]