That Joy with Pain be equal felt,
And balanc'd in Extremes.
Then like our genial Wine fhe'll charm
With Love my panting Breast:
Me, like our Sun, her Heart fhall warm,
Be Ice to all the reft.
SONG CXXXIX. Blink over, &c.
Eave Kindred and Friends, fweet Betty,
Leave Kindred and Friends for me;
Affur'd thy Servant is fteddy
To Love, to Honour, and thee. The Gifts of Nature and Fortune,
May fly by Chance, as they came;
They're Grounds the Deftinies fport on,
But Virtue is ever the fame.
Altho' my Fancy were roving,
Thy Charms fo heav'nly appear,
That other Beauties difproving,
I'd worship thee only, my Dear.
And fhould Life's Sorrows embitter
The Pleasure we promis'd our Loves,
To fhare them together is fitter,
Than moan affunder, like Doves.
Oh! were I but once fo bleffed,
To grafp my Love in my Arms!
By thee to be grasp'd! and kissed!
And live on thy Heaven of Charms!
I'd laugh at Fortune's Caprices,
Should Fortune capricious prove;
Tho' Death fhould tear me to Pieces,
I'd die a Martyr to Love.
SONG CXL. Women are wanton, &c.
Omen are wanton, yet cunningly coy
W Lafcivious, yet crafty, to make us obey:
When once they have noos'd us, triumphant they ride,
And trample down Man, that was made for their Guide,
Cho. But let them remember their Grannum
Eve's Fate,
Left they fmart for their Folly, repenting too late.
This Creature was made a Help-meet for the Man,
And fo he approv'd her, deny it who can ;
But furely poor Adam was foundly asleep,
Whilft out of his Side this dear Bleffing did creep.
Cho. But let them remember, &c.
Old Painters did form them refembling the Snail,
Their House on their Backs was, and in it their
Tail,
Implying that Modefty keeps fomething in,
Tho' now they'll expofe all from Tail up to Chin.
Cho. But let them remember, &c.
SONG CXLI. Mary Scot.
Was Summer, and the Day was fair, Refolv'd a while to fly from Care, Beguiling Thought, forgetting Sorrow, I wander'd o'er the Braes of Yarrow i Till then defpifing Beauty's Power, kept my Heart, my own fecure: But Cupid's Art did there deceive me, And Mary's Charms do now enslave me. Will cruel Love no Bribe receive? No Ranfom take for Mary's Slave? Her Frowns of Reft and Hope deprive me : Her lovely Smiles, like Light, revive me, No Bondage may with mine compare, Since firft I faw this charming Fair: This beauteous Flower, this Rofe of Yarrow, In Nature's Gardens has no Marrow.
Had I of Heaven but one Request,
I'd afk to lye in Mary's Breaft;
There would I live or die with Pleasure,
Nor fpare this World one Moment's Leifure;
Defpifing Kings and all that's Great,
I'd fmile at Courts and Courtiers Fate:
My Joy complete in fuch a Marrow,
I'd dwell with her, and live on Yarrow.
But tho' fuch Blifs I ne'er fhould gain,
Contented still I'll wear my Chain,
In hopes my faithful Heart may move her ;
For leaving Life I'll always love her.
What Doubts diftract à Lover's Mind?
That Breaft, all Softness, muft prove kind;
And the shall yet become my Marrow,
The lovely beauteous Rofe of Yarrow.
SONG CXLII. While fome, &c. Hile fome for Pleasure pawn their Health, 'Twixt Lais and the Bagnio,
I'll fave myself, and without Stealth
Kifs and carefs my Nanny-0.
She bids more fair t'engage a Jove
Than Leda did, or Danae 0:
Were I to paint the Queen of Love,
None elfe fhould fit but Nanny-0.
How joyfully my Spirits rife,
When Dancing fhe moves finely-O,
I guess what Heaven is by her Eyes,
Which fparkle fo divinely-O.
Attend my Vow, ye Gods, while I
Breathe in the bieft Britannia,
None's Happiness I fhall envy,
As long's ye grant me Nanny-0.
CHORUS.
My bonny, bonny Nanny-O,
My lovely charming Nanny-O,
I care not tho' the World know
How dearly I love Nanny-O.
SONG CXLIII. Leave me, &c.
Eave me, Shepherd, leave me,
Give o'er your artful Wiles ;
Ev'ry Look deceives me,
And ev'ry Word beguiles.
If I yield you will fly,
I must repent and mourn i
Shepherd 'tis too foon to try,
What 'tis to be forlorn.
Why are you pursuing
To urge me to my Fate,
To contrive my Ruin,
And prove yourself ingrate
If I yield, you will fly,
I must repent and mourn.
Still I can't forbear to try,
What 'tis to be forlorn.
Joys which Lovers borrow,
Some few fweet Moments make ;
Years of Grief and Sorrow
They in Exchange must take.
It is a Madness to be wife,
When Cupid bends his Bow ;
Ev'ry Senfe then open lyes
To entertain the Foe.
SONG CLXIV. With Arts, &c.
Ith Arts oft practis'd and admir'd,
A youthful Swain by Love inspir'd,
Long Time purfu'd a Fair.
Her Coldness equal to his Love,
Repuls'd his Hope, his Fears improve,
And added to his Care.
With Sighs and Tears, in vain he tries,
But deaf to all his Pray'rs, the flies
As faft as he purfues.
To which he answers in Disdain,
By trying to augment my Pain,
Yourself the Conqueft lofe.
"Tis true, I love you, cruel Maid,
But Love with Love should be repaid,
To make our Bliss compleat.
Since I've requested, you've deny'd,
My Love as well as yours, is try'd,
And I with Eafe retreat,
SONG CXLV. If all that, &c.
TF all that I love is her Face,
From looking I fure can refrain,
In others her Likeness may trace,
Or Abfence may cure all my Pain.
This faid, from her Charms I retir'd,
Nor knew I till then how I lov'd:
Whom prefent my Paffion admir'd,
In Abfence my Reafon approv'd.
Ah! why fhould I hope for Relief,
Where all that I fee is Difdain;
No Pity in her for my Grief,
No Merit in me to complain.
Nor yet do I Fortune upbraid,
Tho' robb'd of my Freedom and Eafe, Still proud of the Choice. I have made, Tho' hopeless it ever can please.
SONG CXLVI. Since Drinking, &c.
Ince Drinking has Pow'r for to give us Relief, Come fill up the Bowl, and a Pox on all Grief. If we find that won't do, we'll have fuch another, And fo we'll proceed from one Bowl to the other, Till, like Sons of Apollo, we'll make our Wit foar,
Or, in Homage to Bacchus, fall down on the
Floor.
Apollo and Bacchus were both merry Souls,
They each of them lov'd for to tofs off their
Bowls. L
Then let's try to fhew ourfelves Men of Merit,
By toafting those Gods in a Bowl of good Claret.
And then we fhall all be deferving of Praise:
But the Man that drinks moft fhall go off with
the Baye
|