_A_ Scotch SONG. _Set by Mr._ JOHN BARRETT.
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Ah! foolish La.s.s, what mun I do?
My Modesty I well may rue, Which of my Joy bereft me; For full of Love he came, But out of silly shame, With pish and phoo I play"d, To muckle the coy Maid, And the raw young Loon has left me.
Wou"d _Jockey_ knew how muckle I lue, Did I less Art, or did he shew, More Nature, how bleast I"d be; I"d not have reason to complain, That I lue"d now in vain, Gen he more a Man was, I"d be less a coy La.s.s, Had the raw young Loon weel try"d me.
_A_ SONG _in the Comedy call"d_ Justice Buisy, _or the_ Gentleman Quack: _Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _Sung by Mrs._ Bracegirdle.
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No, no ev"ry Morning my Beauties renew, Where-ever I go, I have Lovers enough; I Dress and I Dance, and I Laugh and I Sing, Am lovely and lively, and gay as the Spring: I Visit, I Game, and I cast away Care, Mind Lovers no more, than the Birds of the Air, Mind Lovers no more, than the Birds of the Air.
_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ WILLIS.
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Now my Freedom"s regain"d, and by _Bacchus_ I swear, All whining dull whimsys of Love I"ll cashire: The Charm"s more engaging in b.u.mpers of Wine, Then let _Chloe_ be d.a.m.n"d, but let this be Divine: Whilst Youth warms thy Veins, Boy embrace thy full Gla.s.ses, d.a.m.n _Cupid_ and all his poor Proselyte a.s.ses; Let this be thy rule _Tom_, to square out thy Life, And when Old in a Friend, thou"lt live free from all Strife, Only envied by him that is plagu"d with a Wife.
_A_ Scotch SONG, _the Words by Mr._ Peter n.o.ble, _Set by Mr._ John Wilford.
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Bonny _Scottish_ Lads that keens me weel, Lith ye what, ye what good Luck Ise fun; _Moggey_ is mine own in spight o"th" De"el, I alone her Heart has won: Near St. _Andrew"s_ Kirk in _London_ Town, There Ise, Ise met my Dearest Joy; Shinening in her Silken Hued and Gown, But ne"er ack, ne"er ack she prov"d not Coy.
Then after many Compliments, Streight we gang"d into the Kirk; There full weel she tuck the doc.u.ments, And flang me many pleasing Smirk: Weel I weat that I have gear enough, She"s have a Yode to ride ont; She"s neither drive the Swine, nor the Plough, Whatever does betide ont.
_A New_ SONG _in the Play call"d_, a DUKE and no DUKE. _Sung by Mrs._ CIBBER.
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_Damon_ if you will believe me, "Tis not sighing o"er the Plain; Songs nor Sonnets can"t relieve ye, Faint Attempts in Love are vain: Urge but home the fair Occasion, And be Master of the Field; To a powerful kind Invasion, "Twere a Madness not to yield.
Tho" she vow"s she"ll ne"er permit ye, Says you"re rude, and much to blame; And with Tears implores your pity, Be not merciful for shame: When the first a.s.sault is over, _Chloris_ time enough will find; This so fierce and Cruel Lover, Much more gentle, not so kind.
_A_ SONG. _The Words made to a Tune of the late Mr._ Henry Purcell"s.
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Drunk I was last Night that"s poss, My Wife began to Scold; Say what I cou"d for my Heart"s Blood, Her Clack she wou"d not hold: Thus her Chat she did begin, Is this your time of coming in; The Clock strikes One, you"ll be undone, If thus you lead your Life: My Dear said I, I can"t deny, But what you say is true; I do intend, my Life to mend, Pray lends the Pot to Spew.
Fye, you Sot, I ne"er can bear, To rise thus e"ery Night; Tho" like a Beast you never care, What consequence comes by"t: The Child and I may starve for you, We neither can have half our due; With grief I find, you"re so unkind, In time you"ll break my Heart: At that I smil"d, and said dear Child, I believe your in the wrong; But if"t shou"d be you"re destiny, I"ll sing a merry Song.
_The Gelding the Devil. Set by Mr._ Tho. Wroth.
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I met with the Devil in the shape of a Ram, Then over and over the Sow-gelder came; I rose and halter"d him fast by the Horns, And pick"d out his Stones, as you would pick out Corns; Maa, quoth the Devil, with that out he slunk, And left us a Carka.s.s of Mutton that stunk.
I chanc"d to ride forth a Mile and a half, Where I heard he did live in disguise of a Calf; I bound him and Gelt him e"er he did any evil, For he was at the best but a young sucking Devil: Maa, yet he cries, and forth he did steal, And this was sold after for excellent Veal.
Some half a Year after in the Form of a Pig, I met with the Rogue, and he look"d very big; I caught at his Leg, laid him down on a Log, E"er a Man could Fart twice, I made him a Hog: Huh, huh quoth the Devil, and gave such a Jerk, That a _Jew_ was Converted and eat of that Pork.
In Woman"s attire I met him most fine, At first sight I thought him some Angel divine; But viewing his crab Face I fell to my Trade, I made him forswear ever acting a Maid: Meaw, quoth the Devil, and so ran away, Hid himself in a Fryer"s old Weeds as they say.
I walked along and it was my good chance, To meet with a Black-coat that was in a Trance; I speedily grip"d him and whip"d off his Cods, "Twixt his Head and his Breech, I left little odds: O, quoth the Devil, and so away ran, Thou oft will be curst by many a Woman.
_A_ SONG.
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When _Jemmy_ first began to love, He was the finest Swain; That ever yet a Flock had drove, Or Danc"d upon the Plain: "Twas then that I, woe"s me poor heart, My Freedom threw away; And finding sweets in every part, I could not say him nay.
For ever when he spake of Love, He wou"d his Eyes decline; Each Sigh he gave a Heart wou"d move, Good faith, and why not mine: He"d press my Hand, and Kiss it oft, His silence spoke his Flame; And whilst he treated me thus soft, I wish"d him more to blame.
Sometimes to feed my Flock with his, _Jemmy_ wou"d me invite; Where he the finest Songs would Sing, Me only to Delight: Then all his Graces he display"d, Which were enough I trow; To conquer any Princely Maid, So did he me I trow.
But now for _Jemmy_ I must Mourn, He to the Wars must go; His Sheephook to a Sword must turn, Alack what shall I do?