! Then, again, when I perufe, But if, ere the muffin's gone, So may this indulgent throng, SONG 9. Sung in the Beggar's Opera. IF you at an office folicit your due, And would not have matters neglected, You must quicken the clerk with the perquifite, too, To do what his duty directed. Or would you the frowns of a lady prevent, SONG 10. A PASTORAL BALLAD. YE fwains that infult o'er my woe, My Phillis ye never have feen. I ne'er told her the anguish I bear, She might think me prefumptuous and bold; Ah! what need of words to declare What my eyes muft fo often have told ! I may rob all her heart of it's ease; That fpring not, my Phillis, from thee. Nor titles to flatter my pride; All the world's a defart befide. I mark'd the foft current o'erflow, And the tear gently fteal down her cheeks. I mark'd it! and, truft me, ye fair, It pleas'd me fuch foftnefs to fee! Can the melt at a fancy'd defpair, And not have compaffion for me? Her voice founda fo filverly fweet, When the tells me there's hope for her fwain, My life I'd lay down at her feet But to hear the dear accents again. In expreffion let others excel, My love is a ftranger to art: Tho', may be, I fpeak not fo well, Yet, truft me, I fpeak from the heart. May thy days to thy wishes be bleft! May't thou never have caufe to repine! Or, if forrows thy bofom moleft, O tell them, and they fhall be mine. Will my fair-one my fervice deny ? My prefumption will Phillis forgive? Contented for her I could die, With whom 'twould be heaven to live. A favourite Song in Tamerlane. TO thee, O! gentle sleep, alone, Is owing all our peace; By thee our joys are heighten'd shewn, The nymph, whofe hand by fraud or force By thee obtaining a divorce, In her own choice is blefs'd. Oh! ftay, Arpafia bids thee ftay} To grafp whofe pleafing form fhe fought; THE STATE OF A LOVER. HOW happy a lover's life paffes, When beauty returns figh for figh! He trips to the terras or parks; What fweet palpitation arifes, When Chloe appears full in view! Her fmiles at more value he prizes, Than mifers the mines of Peru. Tho' fwift-winged time, as they're walking, Soon parts them, alas! by his flight; By reflection he still hears her talking, And Bacchus calls out for his lafs; His love for his Chloe ne'er fails him, Her name gives a zeft to his glafs. No other amusements he prizes, Than those that from Chloe arife; She's firft in his thoughts when he rifes, And laft when he clofes his eyes. Then let not ambition diftrefs us, Or fortune's fantastical chace; Love only with Chloe can blefs us, And give all we want to embrace. SONG 13. Sung at VAUXHALL. CONTENTED I am, and contented I'll bez For what can this world more afford, Than a girl that will fociably fit on my kuce, And a cellar that's plenteously ftor'd? See! my vault door is open, descend ev'ry gueft, Tap the cafk, for the wine we will try ; 'Tis as fweet as the lips of your love to your taste, And as bright as her cheeks to your eye. In a piece of flit-hoop I my candle have stuck, Sound that pipe-tis in tune, and the binns are well fill'd, View that heap of Champaigne in the rear i Thofe bottles are Burgundy fee how they're pil'd, Like artillery, tier over fier, My cellar's my camp, and my foldiers my flasks, 'Tis my will, when I die, not a tear shall be shed SONG 14. Sung in the Capricious Lovers. FOR various purpose ferves the fan 3 As thus a decent blind, Between the sticks to peep at man, Nor yet betray your mind. Each action has a meaning plain, Confent a gentlê tap. All paffions will the fan difclofe, And to advantage fweetly fhews, The hand, if not the heart. 'Tis folly's fceptre, first design'd By love's capricious boy, Who knows how lightly all mankind Are govern'd by a toy. O SONG 15. Sung at VAUXHALL. Which none but true lovers receive, When Luna bedecks the ftill night, And glances her fmiles on the eve: When to the fair meadows we go, Where peace and contentment retire Or down the smooth current we row, In time with the flutes and the lyre. By nature thefe pictures are drawn: How fweet is each landscape difpos'd! The profpect extends to the lawn, Or by the tali beeches is clos'd. Come, Strephon, attend to the scene: The clouds are all vanish'd above; The objects around are ferene, As modell'd to mufic and love. vain honeft Corydon strove to depart, or love held him fast to the place. Leafe, cease, pretty birds, what a chirping you keep, I think you too loud on the fpray; Don't you fee, foolish lark, that the charmer's afleep, You'll wake her as fure as 'tis day. How dare that fond butterfly touch the sweet maid! Mer cheeks he mistakes for the rose : I'd put him to death, if I was not afraid. My boldness would break her repofe. Then Phillis look'd up with a languishing fmile, Kind fhepherd, faid she, you mistake; I laid myfelt down for to rest me awhile, But trust me I was not asleep. The shepherd took courage, advanc'd with a bow, He plac'd himself down by her fide; And manag'd the matter, I cannot tell how, But yesterday made her his bride. SONG 18 Sung at VAUXHALL. WHERE fhall Celia fly for shelter? In what fecret grove or cave? Sighs and fonnets fent to melt her, From the young, the gay, the brave. Tho' with prudith airs the ftarch her, Still the longs, and fill the burns: Cupid fhoots like Hymen's archer, Wherefoe'er the damfel turns. Virtue, youth, good-fenfe, and beauty, (If difcretion guide us not) Sometimes are the ruffian's booty, Sometimes are the booby's lot; Now they're purchas'd by the traders Now commanded by the peer;. Now fome fubtle, nean invader, Wins the heart, or gains the ear. Q diferetion! thou'rt a jewel, Or our grand-mamas mistake, Stinting flame by bating fewel, Always careful and awake. Would you keep your pearls from tramplers, Weigh the licence, weigh the banus; Mark my fong upon your famplers, Wear it on your knots and fans. SONG 19. Sung in the Padlock. SAY, little foolish flutt'ring thing, Whither, ah! whither would you wing Your airy flight? Stay here and fing, Your mistress to delight. No, no, no, Sweet Robin, you shall not go! Where you wanton, could you be Half fo happy as with me ? SONG 200 Sung in High Life below Stairs. COME here, fellow-fervants, and liften to me, I'll fhew you how thofe of fuperior degree, Are only dependents, no better than we, Are only dependents, &c. Both high and low in this do agree, 'Tis here, fellow-fervant, and there, fellowfervant, and all in a livery. 'Tis here, fellow-fervant, &c. See yonder fine spark in embroidery dreft, What is he, i'faith, but a fervant at best? Both high, &c. Nature made all alike, no diftinction she craves So we laugh at the great world, it's fools and it's knaves; For we are all fervants, but they are all flaves Both high, &c. The fat fhining glutton looks up to his shelf, The wrinkled lean mifer bows down to his pelf And the curl-pated beau is a flave to himself. Both high, &c. The gay sparkling belle, who the whole town alarms, And with eyes, lips and neck, fets the fmarts all in arms, Is a vaffal herself, a mere drudge to her charms. Both high, &c. Then we'll drink like our betters, and laugh, A fea-faring fpark if the maids can affect, Bid the fimpering gypfies look to't ; Sound bottoms they'll find us in ev'ry refpe&, And our pockets well laden to boot. The landfmen mayhap, in the way of difcourfe, Have more art to perfuade, and the like; But 'ware thofe falfe colours-for better for worfe, Is the bargain we're willing to Arike. Now long live the king! may he profperous reign, Of no power, no faction, afraid'; May Britain's proud flag ftill exult o'er the main, At all points of the compafs difplay'd! No quickfands endanger, no forms overwhelm, Steady, fteady, and safe may she fail ; No ignorant pilots e'er fit at her helm, Or her anchor of liberty fail ! SONG 22. THE NOD, WINK, AND SMILE, Sung at VAUXHALL. LET fufty old grey-beards of apathy boaft, In spite of their books, they are slaves to fume toaft, The dupes of a nod, wink, or smile. Some fnug fober citizens here may repair, But what with the mufic, and what with the fair, They follow the pod, wink, and smile. Let men boaft of titles, of honours, tenowa ; The females of this happy ifte, Can vanquish the victors, nay kill with a frown, Or fave, by a nod, wink, or fmite. Thefe gardens of pleasure the beauties approve, Who the dulleft of moments beguile; Here Cupid unfurls the white ftandard of love, And commands with a nod, wink, and (mile. SONG 23. BLYTHE JOCKEY; A SCOTCH BALLAD. BLYTHE Jockey, young and gay, He's all my talk by day, And all my dreams by night. If from the lad I be, Tis winter then with mes When I and Jockey met Firft on the flow'ry dale, Right Sweetly he me tret, And love was all his tale. You are the lafs, faid he, O cafe me of my pain, And never fhew difdais. I'm glad when Jockey comes, Sad when he gangs away; His love and courtefie; THE ABSENT LOVER. WHILE Celia's remote from my fight, Nor the verdure of fpring can delight, With the bloom of her cheeks can compare; Nor the blushes Aurora displays Can equal the looks of my fair. Can foften the deepest distress ! With whatever the gay world can give, I am doom'd still to languish in vain ? SONG 25. Sung at RANELAGH, NOT on beauty's tranfient pleasure, 'Twas not Chloe's perfect feature Not her form, the beast of nature, 'Twas alone her fpotlefs mind. Not on beauty's, &c, Take, ye fwains, the real bleffing, That will joys for lifeinfure; The virtuous mind alone poffeffing, Will your lasting blifs fecure, Not on beauty's, &c. . SONG 26. Sung in the Padlock. DEAR heart! what a terrible life am I led ? A dog has a better, that's shelter'd and fed; Night and day 'tis the same, My pain is dere game ;, Me wish to de Lord me was dead. Whate'er's to be done, Poor black must run; Above, or below, Oh ! Oh ! Me wish to de Lord me was dead. SONG 27. Written by Mr. GAY. RECITATIVE. TWAS when the feas were roaring, With hollow blafts of wind, A darpfellay deploring, All on a rock reclin'd! Wide o'er the foaming billo.vs She caft a wistful look; Her head was crown'd with.willows, That trembled o'er the brook, AIR. Twelve months are gone and over, To loofing of my dear? But none that loves you fo. How can they fay that nature, Has nothing made in vain y Why, then, beneath the water, Do hideous rocks remain ? |