And now for the Crew that pa.s.s in the Throng, That live by the Gut, or the Pipe, or the Song, And teaze all the Gentry as they pa.s.s along, _There"s rare doings_, &c.
First _Corbet_ began my Lord pray your Crown, You"ll hear a new Boy I"ve Just brought to Town, I"m sure he will please you, or else knock me down, _There"s rare doings_, &c.
Besides I can boast of my self and two more, And _Leveridge_ the Ba.s.s, that sweetly will roar, "Till all the whole Audience joins in an ancore, _There"s rare doings_, &c.
Next _H----b L----r_ and _B----r_ too, With Hautboy, one Fidle, and Tenor so bleu, And fusty old Musick, not one Note of New, _There"s rare doings_, &c.
Next _Morphew_ the Harper with his Pigg"s Face, Lye tickling a Treble and vamping a Ba.s.s, And all he can do "tis but Musick"s disgrace, _There"s rare doings_, &c.
Then comes the Eunuch to teaze them the more, Subscribe your two Guineas to make up fourscore, I never Perform"d at so low rate before, _There"s rare doings_, &c.
Then come the Strolers among the rest, And little Punch _Powel_ so full of his Jest, With pray Sir, good Madam, it"s my Show is best, _There"s rare doings_, &c.
Thus being Tormented, and teaz"d to their Souls, They thought the best way to get rid of these Fools, The Case they referr"d to the Master of the R----ls, _There"s rare doings_, &c.
Says his Honour, and then he put on a Frown, And since you have left it to my Thoughts alone, I"ll soon have them all whipp"d out of the Town, O _rare doings at_ Bath, _Raffling, and Fidling_, &c.
_The Distress"d_ SHEPHERD, _A_ SONG.
[Music]
I am a poor Shepherd undone, And cannot be Cur"d by Art; For a Nymph as bright as the Sun, Has stole away my Heart: And how to get it again, There"s none but she can tell; To cure me of my Pain, By saying she loves me well: And ala.s.s poor Shepherd, Alack and a welladay; Before I was in Love, Oh every Month was _May_.
If to Love she cou"d not incline, I told her I"d die in an Hour; To die says she "tis in thine, But to Love "tis not in my Power.
I askt her the Reason why, She could not of me approve; She said "twas a Task too hard, To give any Reason for Love: _And ala.s.s poor Shepherd_, &c.
She ask"d me of my Estate, I told her a Flock of Sheep; The Gra.s.s whereon they Graze, Where she and I might Sleep: Besides a good Ten Pound, In old King _Harry"s_ Groats; With Hooks and Crooks abound, And Birds of sundry Notes: _And ala.s.s poor Shepherd_, &c.
_A_ SONG.
I Love to Madness, rave t"enjoy, But heaps of Wealth my Progress bar; Curse on the Load that stops my way, My Love"s more Rich and Brighter far: Were I prest under Hills of Gold, My furious Sighs should make my escape; I"d sigh and blow up all the Mould, And throw the Oar in _Caelia"s_ Lap.
Were thou some Peasant mean and small, And all the s.p.a.cious Globe were mine; I"d give the World, the Sun and all, For one kind brighter Glance of thine: This Hour let _Caelia_ with me live, And G.o.ds cou"d I but of you borrow, I"d give what only you can give, For that dear Hour, I"d give to morrow.
_The loving Couple: Or the Merry_ WEDDING.
[Music]
A Jolly young _Grocer_ of _London Town_, Fell deeply in Love with his Maid: And often he courted her to lye down, But she told him she was afraid: Sometimes he would struggle, But still she would Boggle, And never consent to his wicked Will; But said he must tarry, Until he would marry, And then he should have his fill.
But when that he found he could not obtain, The Blessing he thus pursu"d; For tho" he had try"d her again and again, She vow"d she would not be leud: At last he submitted, To be so outwitted, As to be catch"d in the Nuptial snare; Altho" the young Hussie, Before had been busie, With one that she lov"d more dear.
The Morning after they marry"d were, The Drums and the Fiddles came; Then oh what a thumping and sc.r.a.ping was there, To please the new marry"d Dame: There was fiddle come fiddle, With hey diddle diddle, And all the time that the Musick play"d; There was Kissing and Loving, And Heaving and Shoving, For fear she should rise a Maid.
But e"er three Months they had marry"d been, A Thumping Boy popp"d out; Ads---- says he you confounded Queen, Why what have you been about?
You"re a Strumpet cries he, You"re a Cuckold cries she, And when he found he was thus betray"d; There was Fighting and Scratching, And Rogueing and b.i.t.c.hing, Because she had prov"d a Jade.
_A_ SONG, _Tune of Chickens and Sparrow-gra.s.s._
What sayest thou, If one should thrust thee thro"?
What sayest thou, If one shou"d Plough?
I say Sir, you may do what you please, I shall scarce stir, Tho" you ne"er cease, Thro", thro", you may thrust me thro".
Such Death is a Pleasure, When Life"s a Disease.
_The precaution"d_ Nymph, _Set by_ L. Ramondon.
[Music]
Go, go, go, go falsest of thy s.e.x be gone, Leave, leave, oh leave, leave me to my self alone; Why wou"d you strive by fond pretence, Thus to destroy my Innocence.
Know, _Caelia_ you too late betray"d, Then thus you did the Nymph upbraid; Love like a Dream usher"d by night, Flyes the approach of Morning light.
Go falsest of your s.e.x begone, Oh! Leave me to my self alone; She that believes Man when he swears, Or but regards his Oaths or Pray"rs, May she, fond she, be most accurst, Nay more, be subject to his l.u.s.t.
_The Life and Death of Sir_ HUGH _of the_ GRIME. _To the Tune of_ Chevy-chace.
As it befel upon one time, About _Mid-summer_ of the Year; Every Man was taxt of his Crime, For stealing the good Lord Bishop"s Mare.
The good Lord _Screw_ sadled a Horse, And rid after the same serime; Before he did get over the Moss, There was he aware of Sir _Hugh_ of the _Grime_.
Turn, O turn, thou false Traytor, Turn and yield thy self unto me; Thou hast stol"n the Lord Bishop"s Mare, And now thinkest away to flee.
No, soft Lord _Screw_, that may not be, Here is a broad Sword by my side; And if that thou canst Conquer me, The Victory will soon be try"d.