Part 6

_Astrea_ saw the Shepherds bleed, Regardless of their Pain; Unmov'd she hear'd their Oaten Reed, They Dance and Sung in vain; At length _Amintor_ did appear, That Miracle of Man; He pleas'd her Eyes and charm'd her Ear, He pleas'd her Eyes and charm'd her Ear, She Lov'd and call'd him PAN.

But he as tho' design'd by Fate, Revenger of the harms, Which others suffer'd from her hate, Rifl'd and left her Charms; Then Nymphs no longer keep in pain, A plain well-meaning Heart; Lest you shou'd joyn for such disdain, Lest you shou'd joyn for such disdain, In poor _Astrea's_ smart.

_A_ SONG, _Sung at the_ THEATRE-ROYAL, _in the Play call'd_ ALPHONSO _King of_ NAPLES. _Set by Mr._ EAGLES.

[Music]

When _Sylvia_ was kind, and Love play'd in her Eyes, We thought it no Morning till _Sylvia_ did rise; Of _Sylvia_ the Hills and the Vallies all Rang, For she was the Subject of every Song.

But now, oh how little her Glories do move, That us'd to inflame us, with Raptures of Love; Thy Rigour, oh _Sylvia_, will shorten thy Reign, And make our bright Goddess a Mortal again.

Love heightens our Joys, he's the ease of our Care, A spur to the Valiant, a Crown to the Fair; Oh seize his soft Wings then before 'tis too late, Or Cruelty quickly will hasten thy Fate.

'Tis kindness, my _Sylvia_, 'tis kindness alone, Will add to thy Lovers, and strengthen thy Throne; In Love, as in Empire, Tyrannical sway, Will make Loyal Subjects forget to Obey.

_The_ SHEPHERD'S _Complaint. Set by Mr._ Williams.

[Music]

What, Love a crime, Inhumane Fair? Repeal that rash Decree, As well may pious Anthems bear; The Name of Blasphemy: 'Tis Bleeding Hearts and Weeping Eyes, Uphold your Sexes Pride; Nor could you longer Tyrannize, My Fetters laid aside.

Then from your haughty Vision wake, And listen to my Moan; Tho' you refuse me for my sake, Yet pity for your own; For know proud Shepherdess you owe, The Victim you despise, More to the strictness of my Vow, Than glories of your Eyes.

_A_ SONG _in the_ OPERA _call'd_ The Fairy Queen. _Sung by Mrs._ BUTLER. _Set by Mr._ H. Purcell.

[Music]

When I have often heard young Maids complaining, That when Men promise most they most deceive; Then I thought none of them worthy my gaining. And what they swore I would never believe: But when so humbly one made his Addresses, With Looks so soft, and with Language so kind, I thought it a Sin to refuse his Caresses, Nature o'ercame, and I soon chang'd my Mind.

Should he employ all his Arts in deceiving, Stretch his Invention, and quite crack his Brain, I find such Charms, such true Joys in believing, I'll have the pleasure, let him have the pain: If he proves perjur'd, I shall not be cheated, He may deceive himself, but never me; 'Tis what I look for, and shan't be defeated, For I'm as false, and inconstant as he.

_A_ SONG. _The Words and Tune by Mr._ Edward Keen. _Sung by Mrs._ Willis, _in the Play call'd_ The Heiress: _Or_, The Salamanca Doctor.

[Music]

_C∆LIA'S_ bright Beauty all others transcend, Like Lovers Sprightly Goddess she's flippant and gay; Her rival Admirers in crouds do attend, To her their devoirs and Addresses to pay: Pert gaudy Coxcombs the Fair one adore, Grave Dons of the Law and quere Prigs of the Gown; Close Misers who brood o'er their Treasure in store, And Heroes for plundring of modern renown, But Men of plunder can ne'er get her under, And Misers all Women despise, She baulks the pert Fops in the midst of their hopes, And laughs at the Grave and Precise.

Next she's caress'd by a musical crew, Shrill Singing and Fidling, Beaus warbles o'th' Flute, And Poets whom Poverty still will pursue, That's a just cause for rejecting their suit: Impudent Fluters the Nymph does abhor, And Lovers with Fiddle at neck she disdains; For these thought to have her for whistling for, They courting with guts shew'd defect in their brains. And to the pretender to make her surrender, By singing no favour she'll show; For she'll not make choice of a shrill Capons voice, For a politick reason you know.

_A_ SONG.

[Music: The King is gone to _Oxon_ Town, with all his might and main a; the Nobles they attending on, with all their gallant train a: The May'r of the Town in his Furr Gown, gave the King such a thing, the like was never seen; _A pair of Gloves, I say a pair of Gloves_, made of the Stags good Leather: _A pair of gloves I say, a pair of Gloves_, to keep his hands from the Weather; Nay, some do say they gave him Gold, _That's a lye, then said I_, as soon as I heard it told; for why shou'd they go give their Gold away, to him that has so much of his own a?]

_A_ SONG _in_ Love's a Jest. _Set by Mr._ JOHN ECCLES. _Sung by Mrs._ HUDSON.

[Music]

Mortal's learn your Lives to measure, Not by length of Time, but Pleasure; Now the Hours invite comply, Whilst you idly pass they flye: Blest whilst a nimble pace they keep, But in torment, in torment when they creep. Mortals learn your Lives to measure, Not by length of Time, but Pleasure; Soon your Spring must have a fall, Losing Youth is losing all; Then you'll ask, but none will give, And may linger, but not live.

_A_ SONG, _in the Play call'd_ Self-Conceit: _Or_, The Mother made a Property. _Set by Mr._ John Eccles. _Sung by Mrs._ Bowman.

[Music]

Oh! the mighty pow'r of Love, What Art against such Force can move; The harmless Swain is ever blest, Beneath some silent, shady Grove; Until some Nymph invade his Breast, And disapprove his eager Love.

Oh! the mighty power of Love, What Art against such Force can move; The Greatest Hero who in Arms, Has gain'd a thousand Victories: Submits to _CÊlia's_ brighter Charms, And dreads a killing from her Eyes.

_A_ SONG, _Sung by Mrs._ HUDSON, _in the Play call'd_ Love Triumphant: _Or_, Nature will prevail. _Set by Mr._ JOHN ECCLES.

What state of Life can be so blest, As Love that warms a Lover's Breast; Two Souls in one the same desire, To grant the Bliss and to require: But if in Heaven a Hell we find, 'Tis all from thee, oh Jealousy! Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! Jealousy, thou Tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, thou tyrant, Jealousy, oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! Jealousy, oh! oh! oh! Jealousy, thou tyrant of the mind.

All other ills tho' sharp they prove, Serve to refine and sweeten Love; In absence or unkind disdain, Sweet hope relieves the Lovers pain: But oh! no cure but death we find, To set us free from Jealousy, Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! _&c._

False in thy Glass all objects are, Some set too near, and some too far; Thou art the fire of endless Night, The fire that burns and gives no light, All torments of the damn'd we find, In only thee, oh Jealousy! Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! _&c._

_A_ Scotch SONG. _Set by Mr._ ROBERT COX.

[Music]

When _Jockey_ first I saw, my Soul was charm'd, To see the bonny Lad so blith, so blith and gay; My Heart did beat it being alarm'd, That I to _Jockey_ nought, nought could say: At last I courage took and Passion quite forsook, And told the bonny Lad his Charms I felt; He then did smile with a pleasing look, And told me _Jenny_ in his Arms, his Arms should melt.

_A Song. Sung by Mrs._ Temple. _Set by Mr._ J. Clark.

[Music]

I Seek no more to shady coverts, _Jockey's_ Eyn are all my Joy; Beauty's there I Ken, that cannot, Must not, shall not, steal away: What wou'd _Jockey_ now do to me, Surely you're to me unkind; Ise ne'er see you, nay you fly me, Yet are ne'er from out my Mind.

Tell me why 'tis thus you use me, Take me quickly to your Arms; Where in blisses blithly basking, Each may rival others Charms: Oh but fye, my _Jockey_ pray now, What d'ye, do not, let me go; O I vow you will undoe me, What to do I do not know.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ PHILL. HART.

[Music]

Tho' I love and she knows it, she cares not, She regards not my Passion at all; But to tell me she hates me she spares not, As often as on her I call: 'Tis her Pleasure to see me in pain, 'Tis her pain to grant my desire; Then if ever I Love her again, May I never, never, never, never, may I never, be free from Love's fire.

MIRTILLO. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Tho. Clark.

[Music]

_Mirtillo_, whilst you patch your Face, By Nature form'd so fair, We know each Spot conceals a Grace, And wish, and wish to see it bare: But since our Wish you've gratifi'd, We find, we find, 'twas rashly made, And that those Spots were but to hide, to hide Excess of Lustre laid: And that those Spots were but to hide, to hide Excess of Lustre laid.

_The Rambling_ RAKE.

[Music]

Having spent all my Coin, Upon Women and Wine, I went to the C----h out of spite; But what the Priest said, Is quite out of my Head, I resolv'd not to Edify by't.

While he open'd his Text, I was plaguily vext, To see such a sly Canting Crew, Of _Satan's_ Disciples, With P----r Books and B----s, Enough to have made a Man Spew.

All the Women I view'd, Both Religious and Lewd, From the Sable Top-knots to the Scarlets; But a Wager I'll lay, That at a full Play, The House does not swarm so with Harlots.

Lady _F----_ there sits, Almost out of her Wits, 'Twixt Lust and Devotion debating; She's as Vicious as Fair, And has more Business there, Than to hear Mr. _Tickle-text's_ prating.

Madam _L----l_ saw, With her Daughters-in-law, Whom she offers to Sale ev'ry Sunday; In the midst of her Prayers, She'll negociate Affairs, And make Assignations for Monday.

Next a Lady much Fam'd, Therefore must not be nam'd, 'Cause she'll give you no trouble in Teaching; She has a very fine Book, But does ne'er in it look, Nor regard neither Praying nor Preaching.

There's a _Baronet's_ Daughter, Her own Mother taught her, By Precept and Practical Notion; That to wear Gaudy Cloaths, And to Ogle the Beaus, Was at Church two sure Signs of Devotion.

From the Corner o' th' Square, Comes a hopeful young Pair, Religious as they see occasion; But if Patches and Paint, Be true signs of a Saint, We've no Reason to doubt their Damnation.

When the Sermon was done, He blest ev'ry one, And they like good Christians retir'd; Tho' they view'd ev'ry Face, Each Head and each Dress, Yet each one her self most admir'd.

I had view'd all the rest, But the Parson had blest, With his Benediction the People; So I ran to the Crown, Least the Church should fall down, And beat out my Brains with the Steeple.

_The_ AIRY _old Woman_.

[Music]

You guess by my wither'd Face, And Eyes no longer Shining; That I can't Dance with a Grace, Nor keep my Pipes from whining: Yet I am still Gay and Bold, To be otherwise were a Folly; Methinks my Blood is grown Cold, I'll warm it then thus and be jolly, Jolly, jolly, jolly, jolly, jolly, jolly, jolly, _&c._ Methinks my Blood is grown cold, Grown cold, grown cold, grown cold, _&c._ I'll warm it then thus and be jolly.

I find by the slighting Beau's, That Nature is declining; Yet will I not knit my Brows, Nor end my Days in pining: Let other Dames Fret and Scold, As they pass to the Stygian Ferry; You see, though I am grown Old, My Temper is youthful and merry, Merry, merry, merry, merry, _&c._ You see though I am grown old, Grown old, grown old, grown old, _&c._ My Temper is youthful and merry.

_A_ SONG _Set by Mr._ ANTHONY YOUNG.

[Music]

I Try'd in Parks and Plays to find, An Object to appease my Mind; But still in vain it does appear, Since Fair _Hyrtuilia_ is not there: In vain alass I hope for Ease, Since none but She alone can please.

_A_ SONG; _the Words by Captain_ DANVERS, _Set by Mr._ T. WILLIS.

[Music]

Forgive me _Cloe_ if I dare Your Conduct disapprove; The Gods have made you wond'rous Fair, Not to Disdain, but Love; Those nice pernicious Forms despise, That cheat you of your Bliss; Let Love instruct you to be wise, Whilst Youth and Beauty is.

Too late you will repent the Time, You lose by your Disdain; The Slaves you scorn now in your Prime, You'll ne'er retrieve again: But when those Charms shall once decay, And Lovers disappear; Despair and Envy shall repay, Your being now severe.

_A_ SONG _in the_ Rival Sisters, _Set by Mr._ Henry Purcell, _Sung by Miss_ CROSS.

[Music]

How happy, how happy is she, How happy, how happy is she, That early, that early her Passion begins, And willing, and willing with Love to agree, Does not stay till she comes to her Teens: Then, then she's all pure and Chast, Then, then she's all pure and Chast, Like Angels her Smiles to be priz'd; Pleasure is seen Cherub Fac'd, And Nature appears, and Nature appears undisguis'd.

From Twenty to Thirty, and then Set up for a Lover in vain; By that time we study how Men, May be wrack'd with Neglect and Disdain: Love dwells where we meet with desire, Desire which Nature has given: She's a Fool then that feeling the Fire, Begins not to warm at Eleven.

_The Three Merry Travellers, who paid their shot wherever they came, without ever a Stiver of Money._

[Music]

There was three Travellers, Travellers three, _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down derry_, And they would go Travel the _North_ Country, _Without ever a stiver of Money_.

They Travelled _East_, and they Travelled _West_, _With a hey down_, &c. Wherever they came still they drank of the best, _Without ever_, &c.

At length by good Fortune they came to an Inn, _With a hey down_, &c. And they were as merry as e'er they had been, _Without ever_, &c.

A Jolly young Widdow did smiling appear, _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down derry_, Who drest them a Banquet of delicate cheer, _Without ever a penny of Money_.

Both Chicken and Sparrow-grass she did provide, _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down derry_, You're Welcome kind Gentlemen, welcome she cry'd, _Without ever a Stiver of Money_.

They called for liquor, both Beer, Ale, and Wine, _With a hey down_, &c. And every thing that was curious and fine, _Without ever_, &c.

They drank to their Hostess a merry full Bowl, _With a hey down_, &c. She pledg'd them in Love, like a generous Soul, _Without ever_, &c.

The Hostess, her Maid, and Cousin all three, _With a hey down_, &c. They Kist and was merry, as merry cou'd be, _Without ever_, &c.

Full Bottles and Glasses replenish'd the Board, _With a hey down_, &c. No liquors was wanting the house could afford, _Without ever_, &c.

When they had been Merry good part of the Day, _With a hey down_, &c. They called their Hostess to know what's to pay, _Without ever_, &c.

There's Thirty good shillings, and Six pence, she cry'd, _With a hey down_, &c. They told her that she should be soon satisfy'd, _Without ever_, &c.

The Handsomest Man of the three up he got; _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down derry_, He laid her on her Back, and paid her the shot, _Without ever a Stiver of Money_.

The middlemost Man to her Cousin he went, _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down derry_, She being handsome, he gave her Content, _Without ever a Stiver of Money_.

The last Man of all he took up with the Maid, _With a hey down_, &c. And thus the whole Shot it was lovingly paid, _Without ever_, &c.

The Hostess, the Cousin, and Servant, we find, _With a hey down_, &c. Made Courtesies, and thank'd them for being so kind, _Without ever_, &c.

The Hostess said, welcome kind Gentleman all, _With a hey down_, &c. If you chance to come this way be pleased to call, _Without ever_, &c.

Then taking their Leaves they went merrily out, _With a hey down, ho down, Lanktre down, derry_, And they're gone for to Travel the Nation about, _Without ever a Stiver of Money_.

_The Maids_ CONJURING _Book_.

[Music]

A Young Man lately in our Town, He went to Bed one Night; He had no sooner lay'd him down, But was troubled with a Sprite: So vigorously the Spirit stood, Let him do what he can, Sure then he said it must be lay'd, By Woman, not by Man.

A Handsome Maid did undertake, And into Bed she leap'd; And to allay the Spirits Power, Full close to him she crep'd: She having such a Guardian care, Her Office to discharge; She open'd wide her Conjuring Book, And lay'd the Leaves at large.

Her Office she did well perform, Within a little space; Then up she rose, and down he lay, And durst not shew his Face; She took her leave, and away she went, When she had done the Deed; Saying, if't chance to come again, Then send for me with speed.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

All Joy to Mortals, Joy and Mirth, Eternal _Io's_ sing; The Gods of Love descend to Earth, Their Darts have lost their Sting.

The Youth shall now complain no more, On _Sylvia's_ needless Scorn; But she shall Love if he adore, And melt when he shall burn.

The Nymph no longer shall be shy, But leave the Jilting Road; And _Daphne_ now no more shall Fly, The wounded Painted God.

But all shall be Serene and Fair, No sad complaints of Love, Shall fill the gentle whispering Air, No Ecchoing sighs, the Grove.

Beneath the shades young _Strephon_ lies, Of all his wish possess'd; Gazing on _Sylvia's_ charming Eyes, Whose Soul is there confess'd.

All soft and sweet the Maid appears, With looks that know no Art; And though she yields with Trembling Fears, She yields with all her Heart.

_The_ PRESBYTERS _Gill_.

[Music]

Hang the Presbyters Gill, Bring a Pint of Sack, _Will_, More Orthodox of the two; Though a slender Dispute, Will strike the Elf Mute, He's one of the honester Crew.

In a Pint there's small heart, Sirrah, bring us a Quart, There's substance and vigour met; 'Twill hold us in play, Some Part of the Day, But we'll sink him before Sun-set.

The daring old Pottle, Does now bid us Battle, Let's try what his strength can do; Keep your Ranks, and your Files, And for all his Wiles, We'll tumble him down stairs too.

The Stout Brested _Lombard_, His Brains ne'er incumbred, With drinking of Gallons three; _Trycongius_ was named, And by _CÊsar_ Famed, Who dubbed him Knight Cap-a-pee.

If then Honour be in't, Why a Pox should be stint, Our selves of the fulness it bears? H'has less Wit than an Ape In the Blood of a Grape, Will not plunge himself o'er Head and Ears.

Then Summon the Gallon, A stout Foe, and a Tall one, And likely to hold us to't; Keep but Coyn in your Purse, The Word is Disburse, I'll warrant he'll sleep at your Foot.

See the bold Foe appears, May he fall that him Fears, Keep you but close Order, and then, We will give him the Rout, Be he never so stout, And prepare for his Rallying agen.

Let's drain the whole Cellar, Pipes, Buts, and the Dweller, If the Wine floats not the faster; _Will_, when thou do'st slack us, By Warrant from _Bacchus_, We will Cane thy Tun-belly'd Master.

_The Good_ FELLOW.

[Music]

A Pox on the Times, Let 'em go as they will, Tho' the Taxes are grown so heavy; Our Hearts are our own, And shall be so still, Drink about, my Boys, and be merry: Let no Man despair, But drive away Care, And drown all our Sorrow in Claret; We'll never repine, So they give us good Wine, Let 'em take all our Dross, we can spare it.

We value not Chink, Unless to buy drink, Or purchase us Innocent Pleasure; When 'tis gone we ne'er fret, So we Liquor can get, For Mirth of it self is a Treasure: No Miser can be, So happy as we, Tho' compass'd with Riches he wallow; Day and Night he's in Fear, And ne'er without Care, While nothing disturbs the Good Fellow.

Come fill up the Glass, And about let it pass, For Nature doth vacuums decline! Down the spruce formal Ass, That's afraid of his Face, We'll drink 'till our Noses do _Ph[oe]bus_ out-shine: While we've plenty of this, We can ne'er do amiss, 'Tis an Antidote 'gainst our ruin; And the Lad that drinks most, With Honour may boast, He fears neither Death, nor undoing.

_The Jovial_ PRISONER, _by_ S. P.

[Music]

A Pox on such Fools! let the Scoundrels rail, Let 'em boast of their Liberty; They're no freer than we, for the World's a Jayl, And all Men Prisoners be.

The Drunkard's confin'd to his Claret, The Miser to his Store; The Wit to his Muse and a Garret, And the Cully-Cit to his Whore.

The Parson's confin'd to his Piggs, The Lawyer to Hatred and Strife; The Fidler to's Borees and Jiggs, And the Quack to his Glister-pipe.

The Church-man's confin'd to be civil, The Quaker's a Prisoner too light; The Papist is bound by the Devil, And the Puritan's fetter'd with spite.

Since old _Adam's_ race are all Prisoners like us, Let us merrily quaff and Sing; Z----s why shou'd we pine for Liberty thus, When we're each of's as free as a King.

_A_ SONG.

_Set by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL.

[Music]

_Phillis_, I can ne'er forgive it, Nor I think, shall e're out-live it; Thus to treat me so severely, Who have always lov'd sincerely.

_Damon_, you so fondly cherish, Whilst poor I, alass! may perish; I that love, which he did never, Me you slight, and him you Favour.

Love given over: _Being a young Lady's Reply to her Parents, who would have forc'd her to Marry one she had an Aversion against._

[Music]

As Cupid many Ages past, Went out to take the Air; And on the Rosy Morning Feast, He met _Ophelia_ there.

A while he gaz'd, a while survey'd Her Shape and every part; But as his Eyes run o'er the Maid, Hers reach'd his little Heart.

His Quiver straight and Bow he took, And bent it for a flight; And then by chance she cast a look, Which spoil'd his purpose quite.

Disarm'd he knew not what to do, Nor how to Crown his Love; At last resolv'd, away he flew, Another shape to prove.

A lustful Satyr straight return'd, In hopes his Form wou'd take: For many Nymphs for them have burn'd, Burn'd 'cause they could not speak.

_Ophelia_ had no sooner spy'd, His Godship, Goat and Man; But loudly for assistance cry'd, And fleetly homeward ran.

Perplex'd at her affright, but more At's own defeat, he shook The Monster off; then fled before, And straight Man's Aspect took.

He smil'd, intreated, ly'd, and vow'd, Nay, offer'd her a Sum; And grew importunate and rude, As she drew nearer home.

At last when Tears, nor ought cou'd move, He thus bespoke the Fair; Know Cruel Maid, I'm God of Love, And can command Despair.

Yet Dame to sue, oh! bless me then, As you regard your Ease; For I am King of Gods and Men, I give and banish Peace.

Or be thou Love, or be thou Hate, Enrag'd _Ophelia_ swore; I'll never change my Virgin state, Nor ever see thee more.

Exploded Love resisted so, In pity to Mankind; His Arrows broke, and burnt his Bow, And left his Name behind.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]