'Tis nothing I think, 'tis nothing I write,
'Tis nothing I court, 'tis nothing I flight,
And I don't care a pin if I get nothing by't.
Tol tol, &c.
Fire, air, earth, and water; birds, beafts, fish, and men
Did ftart out of nothing, a chaos, a den,.
And all things must turn to nothing again.
The lad that makes love to a delicate fmooth thing,
And hopes to obtain her by fighing and foothing,
Moft frequently make much ado about nothing.
Tol, tol, &c.
But foon as his patience and purfe is decay'd,
He may to the arms of a whore be betray'd:
For the that is nothing muft needs be a maid,
Tol, tol, &c.
'Tis nothing makes many things often-times hit;
As when fools among wife men do filently fit,
The fool that fays nothing, may pafs for a wit.
Tol, tol, &c,
When first by the ears we together did fall,
Then fomething got nothing, and nothing got all,
From nothing we came, and to nothing we fall,
Tol, tol, &c,
If any man tax me with weakness of wit,
And fays, that on nothing I nothing have writ,
I fhall anfwer, Ex nihilo nihil fit.
But let his difcretion be never fo tall,
This very word nothing may give him a fall;
For in writing of nothing I comprehend all.
Tol, tel, &c.
So let ev'ry man give the poet his due,
For then it was with him, as 'tis now with you,
He wrote it when he had nothing to do.
Tol, tol, &c.
This very word nothing, if took the right way,
May be of advantage; for what will you fay,
When the landlord he tells you there's nothing to pay.
Tol, tel, &c.
LOVE bids me go, but reafon bids me stay;
O why must love and reafon difagree?
Love racks my foul, when reason I obey;
If love I follow, reafon tortures me.
Unhappy wretch! and must I then endure
This changing pain for ever in my mind?
From this, or that, in vain I feek a cure:
Ah! could love fee! or was but reafon blind!
Look down with pity from your thrones above,
You powers eternal! infinitely blest I
And from me take my reason, or my love,
Or reconcile them both, and give me reft.
YOUNG Celia, in her tender years,
Like th' rofe-bud on its ftalk,
Fill'd with a virgin's modeft fears,
Stepp'd forth one eve to walk.
She oft had heard of love's blind boy,
And wish'd to find him out,
Expecting for to meet the joy
Of which fhe'd been in doubt..
A pleasant fhady grove the fpy'd,
Where trembling afpens fhook,
Close to its flow'ry verge did glide
A murm'ring limpid brook.
Amyntor fighing there fhe found,
She heard him talk of love;
His crook lay by him on the ground,
While thus he pray'd to Jove,
Grant, mighty pow'r! that I may find
Some ease within this breaft;
Grant that my Celia may be kind,
And make Amyntor bleft;
Grant her to know the force of love,
And of her fwan's defire;
Grant that of me fhe may approve,
And more I'li ne'er require.'
E that will not merry, merry be,
With a generous bowl and a toast,
May he in Bridewell be shut up,
And fast bound to a post.
Let him be merry, merry there;
And we'll be merry, merry here:
For who can know where we shall go
To be merry another year?
He that will not merry, merry be,
And take his glafs in course,
May he be oblig'd to drink small beer,
With ne'er a penny in's purse.
Let him be merry, &c.
He that will not merry, merry be,
With a company of jolly boys,
May he be plagu'd with a fcolding wife,
To confound him with her noife,
Let him be merry, &c. .
He that will not merry, merry be,
.With his miftrefs in his bed;
Let him be bury'd in the church-yard,
And me put in his ftead.
Let him be merry, &c.
HOW happy's the man, that like you, Sir, His pretty dear person admires!
Who, when the fair it won't do, Sir,
Content to his idol retires.
He turns to his glass,
Where, in his sweet face
Such ravishing beauties disclose;.
His heart on fire,
Is fure his defire Lis
No rival will ever oppofe..
But when to a nymph a pretender,
Poor mortal, he fplits on a thelf! stia plan
How little a thing will defend her,
From one that makes love to himself?
While nice in drefs,
And fure of fuccefs,
He thinks the can never get free ;
With fmiling eyes
She rallies and flies,.
And laughs at his merit, like me.
XXIII, The Sailor's Rant.
HOW pleafant a failor's life passes, 'Who roams o'er the wat'ry main,
No treasure he ever amaffes,
But chearfully spends all his gain.
We're strangers to party and faction, cavi
To honour and honesty true,"
And would not commit a bafe action
For power and profit in view.v
Chor. Then why should we quarrel for riches,
Or any fuch glittering toys
A light heart and a thin pair of breeches
Goes thorough the wide world, brave boys.
The world is a beautiful garden,
Enrich'd with the bleflings of life,
The toiler with plenty rewarding,
Which plenty too often breeds ftrife,
When terrible tempefts affail us,
And mountaneous billows affright,
No grandeur or wealth can avail us,
But skilful industry steers right.it
Chor. Then why should, &c.
The courtier's more fubject to dangers,
Who rules at the helm of the ftate,
Than we, who to politics are ftrangers,
Escape the fnares laid for the great.
The various bleffings of nature
In various nations we try s
No mortals than us can be greater,
Who merrily live till we die,
Chor. Then why should, &c.
XXIV. Kind ROBIN lo'es me..
Robin.WHILST I alone your foul poffefs'd,
And none more lov'd your bofom prefs'd,
Ye gods, what king like me was bless'd,
When kind Jeany lo'ed me!
Jeany. Whilft you ador'd no other fair,
Nor Kate with me your heart did share,
What queen' with Jeany could compare,
When kind Robin lo'ed me?
Robin. Kate now commands my heart,
Kate who fings with fo much art,
Whofe life to fave with mine I'd part,
For kind Katie lo'es me.
Jeany. Patie now delights mine eyes,
He with equal ardour dies,
Whofe life to fave I'd perifh twice;
For kind Patie lo'es me..
Robin, What if I Kate for the disdain,
And former love return again,
To link us in the ftrongest chain;
For kind Robin lo'es thee.
Jeany. Though Patie's kind as kind can be,
And thou more ftormy than the fea,
I'd chufe to live and die with thee,
If kind Robin lo'es me.
|