SONG LXII. HOW happy are we, Who from thinking are free, When we're young, fit to toy, And have crowds of new lovers ftill wooing; We procure for the trade, Still in every age we are doing. If a cully we meet, We spend what we get We have no sense to know, ONE SONG LXIII. NE April morn, when from the fea Damon and Celia young and gay, Long fettled love endearing, He bred of Tory race had been, She of the tribe dissenting. Celia, whofe eyes outshone the god, Told him, mamma would be stark mad, Swore, that nought should them funder. Great ones made by ambition blind, Or where vile money taints the mind, AMONGST the willows on the grafs Where nymphs and shepherds ly, Young Willy courted bonny Bess; Says Will, we will not tarry Two months before we marry. No, no, fie no, never, never tell me so, Says Nell, fo fhall not I. Says Nell, &c. Long time betwixt hope and despair, He with a fong did charm her ear, Thinking she chang'd had been; Says Will, I want a blessing, No, no, fie no, never, never tell me so, Smarting pain the virgin finds, Not I, not I, no, a maid I'll live and die, Quoth Nell, the more fool you. To my closet I'll repair, And read on godly books, Forget vain love and worldly care. Quoth Nell, that likely looks. You men are all perfidious, But I will be religious, Try all, fly all, and while I breathe defy all, Your fex I now despise. Says Nell, by Jove fhe lies. Says Nell, &c. SONG LXV. ELINDA fure's the brightest thing SE That decks the earth, or breathes our air; Mild are her looks like opening spring, And like the blooming summer fair. But then her wit's so very small, And ftrike no further than the eye. Our ears are absent from the feast, So have I feen with aspect bright, SONG LXVI. A TRIFLING fong ye shall hear, Begun with a trifle and ended; All trifling people draw near, And I shall be nobly attended. Were it not for trifles a few, That lately came into the play, What makes men trifle in dreffing? Admire, by often caressing, That eminent trifle, a beau. When the lover his moments has trifled, The trifle of trifles to gain, No fooner the virgin is rifled, But a trifle shall part them again. What mortal wou'd ever be able, The court is from trifles fecure, Gold keys are no trifles we fee; White rods are no trifles I'm sure, Whatever their bearers may be. But if you will go to the place, A coach with fix footmen behind, A flask of Champaign people think it A parfon's a trifle at sea, A widow's a trifle in forrow, A peace is a trifle to-day, To break it a trifle to-morrow. A black coat a trifle may cloak, Or to hide it the red may endeavour; :; But if once the army is broke, We shall have more trifles than ever. The stage is a trifle, they say, The reason pray carry along; Because that at every new play, The house they with trifles fo throng. |