Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume VI Part 36

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I'm vext to think that _Damon_ wooes me, Who with Sighs and Tears pursues me; He still whining and repining, Of my Rigour does complain: I'd not see him, yet wou'd free him, And my self, my self from pain: I'll enjoy him, and so cloy him, Love cures Love, more, more than Disdain.

_A_ SONG, _by Mr._ Burkhead.

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Claspt in my dear _Melinda's_ Arms, Soft engaging, oh how she Charms; Graces more divine, In her Person s.h.i.+ne, Then _Venus_ self cou'd ever boast.

In the softest Moments of Love, Melting, Panting, oh how she moves; Come, come, come my Dear, Now we've nought to fear, Mortal sure was never so blest, Come, come, come, _&c._

Pray don't trifle, my dearest forbear, I shall die with Transports I fear; Clasp me fast my Life, 'Twill more Pleasure give, Both our stocks of Love let's Joyn, Clasp me, _&c._

Now our Souls are charm'd in Bliss, Raptures flow from every Kiss; Words cannot reveal, The fierce Joys I feel, 'Tis too much to bear and live, Words cannot, _&c._

_A_ SONG, _in the_ Play _call'd the Ladies Fine Aires: Sung by Mr._ Pack, _in the Figure of a_ Bawd. _Set by Mr._ Barrett.

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How happy are we, Who from thinking are free, That curbing Disease o'the Mind: Can indulge every Tast, Love where we like best, Not by dull Reputation confin'd.

When we're young fit to toy, Gay Delights we enjoy, And have crowds of new Lovers wooing; When we're old and decay'd, We procure for the Trade, Still in ev'ry Age we're doing.

If a Cully we meet, We spend what we get, E'ery day for the next never think: When we dye where we go, We have no Sense to know, For a Bawd always dyes in her drink.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FORCER.

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Farewel my useless Scrip, And poor unheeded Flocks; No more you'll round me trip, Nor cloath me with your Locks: Feed by yon purling Stream, Where _Jockey_, where _Jockey_ first I knew: I only think, I only think, I only think on him, I cannot, cannot, cannot think on you.

Farewel each Shepherdess, The bonny Lads adieu; May each his Wish possess, And to that Wish be true: Your Oaten Pipes cou'd please, But _Jockey_ then was kind; Your bonny Tunes may cease, The Lad has chang'd his Mind.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FRANK.

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Ere _Phillis_ with her looks did kill, My Heart resisting, My Heart resisting them was ill; Now in its Wounds it finds a Cure, When most they bleed, I least endure.

For tho' 'tis Death those looks to meet, There's Life in dying at her feet; Kill _Phillis_ then, kill with your Eyes, If you let _Strephon_ live he dyes.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ KING.

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Not your Eyes _Melania_ move me, Not your flowring Charms or Wit; Not your daily Vows to love me, Make my easy Soul submit.

Shape nor Dress can never sway me, Nor the softest looks betray me; _Shape nor Face can never sway me,_ _Nor the softest looks betray me._

But your Mind, my Dear, subdues me, Where a thousand Graces s.h.i.+ne; Goodness, Love, and Honour moves me, And my Pa.s.sion's all Divine.

Goodness as a boundless Treasure, Yields the purest sweetest pleasure.

_A_ SONG.

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Then come kind _Damon_, come away, To _Cynthia's_ power advance: The _Sylvians_ they shall pipe and play, And we'll lead up, and we'll lead up, And we'll lead up the Dance: The _Sylvians_ they shall pipe and play, And we'll lead up, and we'll lead up, And we'll lead up the Dance; The _Sylvians_ they, _&c._

Smile then with a Beam Divine, We'll be blest if you but s.h.i.+ne; Happy then our Pains and Toils, Wit only lives when Beauty smiles: Happy then our Pains and Toils, Wit only lives, Wit only lives, When Beauty smiles; Wit only lives, _&c._

_The Soldiers return from the Wars, or the Maids and Widdows Rejoycing._ _Tune Page_ 278.

At the Change as I was walking, I heard a Discourse of Peace; The People all were a Talking, That the tedious Wars will cease: And if it do prove but true, The Maids will run out of their Houses, _To see the Troopers all come Home,_ _And the Grenadiers with their Drum a Drum Drum,_ _Then the Widdows shall all have Spouses._

The Scarlet colour is fine, Sir, All others it doth excel; The Trooper has a Carbine, Sir, That will please the Maidens well: And when it is c.o.c.k'd and Prim'd, Sir, The Maids will run out of their Houses, _To see the Troopers come come come_, &c.

There's _Joan_, and _Betty_, and _Nelly_, And the rest of the Female Crew; Each has an Itch in her Belly, To play with the Scarlet hue: And _Marg'ret_ too must be peeping, _To see the Troopers_, &c.

The Landladys are preparing, Her Maids are s.h.i.+fting their Smocks; Each swears she'll buy her a Fairing, And opens her _Christmas-box_: She'll give it all to the Red-coats, _When as the Troopers_, &c.

_Jenny_ she lov'd a Trooper, And she shew'd her all her Gear; _Doll_ has turn'd off the Cooper, And now for a Grenadier: His hand Grenadoes they will please her, _When as the Troopers_, &c.

Old musty Maids that have Money, Although no Teeth in their Heads; May have a Bit for their Bunny, To pleasure them in their Beds: Their Hearts will turn to the Red-coats, _When as the Troopers_, &c.