Full Citation

  • Title The dramatic muse; or jubilee songster, consisting of all the songs sung at the Stratford jubilee: likewise, the newest and most favourite airs, songs, and catches, sung at the playhouses and public gardens
  • Imprint London : printed for J. Roson, no. 54. St. Martin's Le Grand, [1777?].
  • Pages 280
  • Language English
  • Microfilm Reel # 10702
  • Physical Description xvi,266p. : ill. ; 8°
  • ESTC Number N8990
  • Source Library Bodleian Library, University of Oxford
D RAMATIC MUSE; 0 R JUBILEE SONGSTER, CONSI5 TI'NG Of all the SO NG S sung at the STRATFOPR;., JUBILEE: I K E W I S E, The newest and most favourite AIRS, SONGS and CATCHES, sung at the Playhouses and Public .Gardens. LONDO N: Printed for J. RosoN, No. 54. St. Martin's Le Grand. [ Price bound z s. 6d. ] / THE DRAMATIC MUSE; OR JUBILEE SONGSTER. SHAKESPEARE. SO NG I. Sun" by Mrs.r Scott in the Tempest. 'j; ,A OME unto there yellow sands, c C 3 And then take hands: 3 ' Curtsied when you have, and kilf ks, x_.e - The wild waves whilt: Foot it-featly here and there, and sweet fprights the burthen bear. Hark, hark, bough wough; the watch dogs bark,' bough-wough. Hark, hark, I hear the lirain of Chanticlere, cry cock a diddle-do. B SONG ( 2 ) SONG II. Sung b.' Mrs. Scott in ibe Tempefl. IT L L fathom five, thy father lies, F Of his bones are coral made: Those are pearls that were his eyes, Nothing of him that doth fade But doth susser a sea change, Into something rich and ltrange: Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell, d ng, dong, Hark now I hear them, ding, dong, bel. n S O N G II. Sung by MArs Scott in -the Tempelt. 'W HHIL E here you fnoaring lie Open. eyed conspiracy, His time doth take: If of life you keep a care, Shake off lumber and beware. Awake, awake. S O-N G IV. Sung by Mrs. Dorman in the Tempest. H ONOUR, riches, marriage, blefing, HL LLong continuance, and encreafing, Hourly joys be itill, upon you, ·Juno ings her bleflings on you: Earth .( 3 ) Earths increale, and foyron plenty, Barns and garners never empty, Vines, with clult'ring branches growing, Plants, with goodly burthen bowing: Spring come to you at the farthest, In the very end of barvet: Scarcity and want Ihall Ihun you, Ceres blefling so is on you. SO NG V. Sung Ay Mrs. Scott in the Tempest. W HERE the bee fucks there lurk I; V In a cowslips bell I lie: There I crouch when owls do cry; On the bat's back do I fly, After sun-set merrily. Merrily, merrily lhall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. SONG VI. In the Two Gentlemen of Verona; W X r H O is Sylvia? what is she? That all our swains commend her i Holy, fair, and wife is she, The heavens such grate did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as The is fair ? For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair,' To help him of his blindness, And being help'd inhabits there. B z Then I C 4 . Then to Sylvia let us -ng, , That Sylvia is excelling; She excells each mortal thing, Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring. SONG VII. in Measure for Meafurc. A X E. oh take thbre lips away, T : That so fiveet.y were forfiworn And those eyes; the break of day, Light. that do miJlead-the morn; But my kiiTes bring again, bring again, Scais of love, but seal'd in vain. S O N VG VIr. -I Mc ' ado about'Nothing I G H no more ladies, sigh no more, .J lMer were deceivers'ever; One foot in sea and one on Thore, To one thing contiant never: Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your founds of ^voe Into hey, nony, nony. Sing no more ditties, lnag no imore; Of dumps so dull and heavy. The fraud of .men wereever so, Since fuminer firt was lefy,'y Then sigh not so, &c. SONG (5) SONG IX. In Love's Labour LoR. S U M M E R. W 7 H E N dailies pied, and violet blue, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, And lady smocks, all silver white, Do paint the meadows with delight,. The cuckoo then on ev'ry tree, Mocks married man, for thus sings he, Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! 0 word of fear, Bnpleafing to the married ear. When Shepherds pipe on oaten firaws, And merry larks are plowmen's clocks; When turtles tread, and rooks and daws,. And maidens. bleach their summer smocks; The cuckoo then, on ev'ry tree, Mocks married mar, for thus sings he, Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! 0 word of fear, Unpleafing to a married car. W I N T E R. When ificles hangs on the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail.; And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail: When blood is nipt and wass be foul, Then nightly tings the liaring ow!l Tu-whit-tu-whoo, lu-wvht-tu vhoo, a merry, merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. I 3 When -6 ) When all aloud the wind-doth blow, And coughing drowns the parsons law, And birds fit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw: Then roared crabs hiss in the bowl, And nightly sings the Raring owl, Tu-whit-tu-whoo, a merry, merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. SONG X. Sung by Mrs. Arne, in The Fairy Tale. y U spotted snakes with double tongue}. Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen, Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, Come not near the Fairy Queen. Philomel, with melody Sing in your sweet lullaby, Neither harm, nor spell, nor charm. Come the fairy's pillow nigh, So good-night witi lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, ye leng-legg'd spinners, hence. Beetles black, approach not near; Worm, nor snail, do no offence; Philomel, with melody, Sing in your sweet, &cc.. SONG XI. In the Midsummer Night's Dream. O W until the break of day, Through this houfs acah fairy fisay, To~.A ( 7 ) To the belt bride-bed will we, Which by us Ihall blessed be; And the issue there create, Shall be ever fortunate: So shall all the couples three Ever true and. loving be; And: the blots in Nature's hand Shall not in their issue stand; Nor mole, hare-lip,. nor any fear, Nor mark prodigious, fach as are Despised in nativity,. Shall upon their children be. With this field-dew consecrate, Ev'ry fairy take his gate, And each several chamber bless, Through this palace with sweet peace, Ever shall in safety reft And the owner of it blest. Trip away, make no stay, Meet me all by break of day. S N G XII. in ihe Merchant of Venice, ELL me, where is Fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head; How begot, how nouriled ? Reply, reply. 'Tis engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed, and Fancy dies In the cradle where it lies: Let us all ring Fancy's knell, Ding, dong, bell. 5 0 NiT (8 ) S O N G XIII. In As you like it. By AIr. Fawcett. NDER the greenhood tree, U Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither, Here fliall he fee no enemy, But wintej and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to lie i'th'fun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleas'd with what he gets; Come hither, come hither, come hither, Here shall he fee no enemy But winter and rough weather. S O N G XIV. In As you like it, B LOW, blow, thou winter's wind,, J Thou art-not so unkind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude: Thy tooth is not To keen, Because thou art not seen, Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Altho' thy breath be rude, Altho' thy breath be rude.. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter ky, Thou dolt not bite so nigh, Thou dofR not bite so nigh, As benefits forgot: T.io' ( 9 ) Tho' thou the waters warp, Thy fling is not so lharp, ho' thou the waters warp, 'Ihy fling is not so sharp, As friends remember'd not. As friends remcmber'd not. SONG XV. In As YOU LIKE IT., W'X7 HAT thall *he have that kill'd. the deer .- His leather-/kin and horns to wear., Then sing him home, this reft ihall bear this burthen ; Take thou no scorn to wear the horn, It was a crefl ere thou waft born, Thy father's father wore it, And thy father bore it; The horn, the'horn the lutfy horn, Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. S 0 N G XVI`. Int As YOU LIKE IT. i7gEdding is great Juno's crown, VV O blelred bond of board and. bcd; 'Tis Hymen people's every town, High wedlock then be honoured: Honour, high honour and renown To Hymen, god of ev'ry town. SONG (c o ) S O N G XVII. In HARRY THE EIcHTH. O RPHEUS with his lute made trees, And the mountain top., that fieezeb Bow themselves, when he did ling; To his muflc, plants and flowers Ever spring, as fun and lhowers There had made a lafiing spring. Ev'ry thing that heard him play, E'en the billows of the lea, - Hung their heads, and then lay by; In sweet music is such art, Killing care, and grief of heart, Fall asleep, or hearing die. S O N G XVIII. In Cymbeline; ARK, hark, the lark at heav'n's gate sings, And Phcbus 'gins arile, His feeds to.water at those springs, On chalic'd flow'rs that lies: And winking Mary-buds begin to ope Their golden eyes With every thing that pretty is, my lady-fweet arise, Arise, arise. SONG !( I1 ). S O N G XIX. The Wa-ords from Shakespeare. Sang at Ranelagh. OME, live with me, and be my love, C And we will all the pleasures prove, That hills and vallies, dales and fields, And all the craggy mountain yields: There will we lit upon the rocks, And fee the Shepherds feed their flocks, Near ihallow rivers, by whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. There will I make thee beds of roses, With a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, with a girdle Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; If there delights thy mind may move, Come, live with me, and be my love. Fur-lined flippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of itraw with ivy buds, And coral claspS, and silver studs: The shepherd swains shall dance and ling, For thy delight each May-morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Then live-with me, and be my love. SONG (' 12 ) SONG XX. S'he MORtinING ADDRESS to the LADIES, At the j7ubilee in Hlonour of the Birth-Day C Shakcfpeare. ET beauty with the fun arise, To Shakespeare tribute pay, With heavenly (miles and fparkiing eyes, Give lu.re to tire day. Each fnile flhe gives proteas his name, What face (hall dare to frown r Not cnvy's self can blast the fame, Which beauty deigns to crown. S O N G XXI. MWARWIICKSHIRE. By Mr. G-- ,7 E \Warwickfiire lads. and ye lasses, ,1 See what at out Jubilee pafles, Cme revel away, rejoice and be glad, For the lad of ai; lads was a Warwicklhire lad, Warvickfhite lad, All be glad, For the lad of all lads was a Warwickshire lad. Be proud of the charms of your county, Where nature has lavifh'd her bounty, Where much (he has given, and some to be spar'd, Forthe bard of all bards wasaWarwicklhire bard, Warwickshire bard, Never pair'd, For the bard of all bards was aWarwickflirebard. Each ( 13 Each shire has its different pleasures, Each shire has its different treaulrcs But to rale Warwick(hire they all muil submit, For the wit of all wits was a Warwickilire wit, XWarwickfhire wit, How he writ ! For the wit of all wits, was a Warwickshire wi:. Old Ben, Thomas Otway, John Drvden. And half a score more we take ptidd in, Of famous Will Congreve, we boial too the fBill. But the Will of ail Wills was a Warwickfliire Will, Warwvicklfire WVil!, MIatchlefs til!, For the Will of all Wills, was a Warwiclkfhire Will. Our Shakespeare compar'd is to no man, Nor Frenchman, nor Grecian, nor Roman; Their fvans are all geese, to the Avon's sweet fIvwall And the man of all men, was a WVarwick.iire man. Warvickflhire man, Avon's swan, And the man of all men, was a W'arwickfnire man. As ven'fon is very inviting, To steal it he took great delight in, To make his friends merry he never was lag, And the wag of all wags, was a Wi arwickfilire wag, *Warwicklnire wag, Ever brag, For the wag of all wags, was aWarwickiliire wag. C There ( 4 ) There never was seen such a creature, Of all (le was worth, he robb'd nature; He took all her smiles, and he took all her grief, And the thief of all thieves, was aWarwickfliire thief. WVnrwickfhire thief, He's the chief, For the thief of all thieves, was a Warwickflhre thief. S 0 N G XXII. Chorus from the Church. T aT H IS is the day, a holliday ! a holliday ! Drive spleen and rancour far away. This is the day, a holliday ! a holliday ! Drive care and sorrow far away. Here Nature nurs'd her darling boy, From whom all care and sorrow fly, Whose harp the Muses firung'; From heart to heart, let joy rebound, Now, now, we tread enchanted ground, Here Shakespeare walk'd and sung ! SONG XXIII. SHAKESPEARE'S MULBERRY-TREE. Swg 'with a Cup in his Hand made of the Tree. By Mr. G---. EHOLD this rair goblets 'twas carv'd from the tlee, Which, 0 my sweet Shakespeare, was planted by thee; As I ( JS ) As a relick I kifs it, and bow at the flrine, What comes from thy hand mull be ever divine! All shall yield to the Mulberry-tree, Bend to thee, BlefI Mulberry, latchlcfs wis he Who planted thee, And thou like him immortal be ! Ye trees of the forefl, so rampant and high, Who spread round their branches, whose heads sweep the sky; Ye curious exotics, whom tasse has brought here To root out the natives, at prices so dear, All 1hall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c. The oak is held royal, is Britain's great boast, Preferv'd once our king, and will always our coall; But of fir we make {hips, we have thousands that fight, While one, only one, like our Shakespeare can write. All shall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c. Let Venus delight in her gay myrtle bowers, Pomona in fruit-trees, and Flora in flowers, The garden of Shakespeare all fancies will suit, With the fveetel of flowers, and fairest of fruit. All shall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c- With lIarning and knowledge the wel!-letter'd birch, Supplies liw and physic, and grace for the church C z But ( i6 .) 1ut law and the gospel in Shakespeare we find, And he gives the belt physic for body and nrind. All Ihall yield to the Mulberry-t ee, &c. The fame of the patron gives fame to the tree, From him and his merits this ta'kcs its deqree; Let Phoebus and Bacchis their glories r.fitn, Our tree fhal' surpass both the laurel and vine. All ihall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c. The genius of Shakespeare out-hines the bright day, More rapture than wine to the heart can convey, Sn the tree which he planted, by makinghis own, Has laurel, and bays, and the vine all in one. All shall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c. Then each take a relick of this hallow'd tree, From folly and fashion a charm let it be; Fill fill to the planter, the cup to the brim, To honour the country, do honour to him. All fia!! yield to the Mulberry-tree, Bend to thee, Blelt Mulberry, Matchless was he WVho planted thee, And thou like him immortal be! SONG XXIV. R O U N D E L A . For th/L jaCi.'ce, in Honour of Shakespeare. By Mlr. J SISTERS of the tuneful firain ! Ataend your parent's jocund train, 'Tis ( 17 ) 'Tis fancy calls you, follow me, To celebrate the jubilee. On Avon's banks, where Shakespeare's buff Points out, and guards his sleeping dult, The sons of fKenic-mirth decree To celebrate this jubilee. By Garrick led, the grateful band, Halte to their poet's n.tive land, With rites of sportive revelry, To celebrate his jubilee. Come daughters then, and with you bring The vocal reed, and sprightly firing, Wit, and joke, and repartee, To celebrate our jubilee. Come, daughters, come, and bring with you Th' aerial sprite and fairy crew, And the fifer-graces three, To celebrate our jubilee. Hang around the fculptur'd tomb The broider'd vefi, the nodding plume, And the mask of comic glee, To celebrate our jubilee. From Birnam wood, and Bosworth's field, Bring the standard, bring the shield, With drums, and martial lymphony, To celebrate this jubilee. In mournful numbers now relate Poor Defdemona's hapless fate, With frantic deeds of jealousy, To celebrate our jubilee. Nor be Windsor's wives forgot, With their harmless, merry plot, C 3 The The whli'ning mead, and haunted tree, To celebrate our jubilee. Now in jocund fLrains recite, The revels of the braggar'd Knight, Fat Knight ! and ancient Piltol he ! To celebrate our jubilee. But fee, in crowds, the gay, the fair, To the splendid scene repair, A scene as fine, as fine can be, To celebrate our jubilee. Yet Colin brings and Rosalind, Each shepherd true. and damsel kind, For well with ours, their sports agree, To crown the fefiive jubilee. S O N G XXV. CEorus fCr tle PAGEANT at Stratford. By 1Mr. E- . ·'ENCE, ye prophane! and only they, .1 Our pageant grace, our pomp survey, V, horn love of sacred genius brings; Let pride, let flattery decree, Honours to deck the memory Of warricrr. senators, and kings--- Not ;es in glory, and deferr, The poet .;e;e receives his part, A tribute from the feeling heart. SONG ( I9 ) S O N G XXVI. A C AT C H. By lMr. B- ' ~YM, PiLfol, and Bardolph, with merry old Jack, One morning made sport for their pupil Prince Harry; WVhen Faltaff cry'd out for a bumper of sack, To Quickly, his hostess, and bid her not tarry Ah ! ah ! cry'd the Prince, honest boy is it so ! The wheels of your wit must be oii'd as they go. SONG XXVII. he CO U N T R Y G I R L. .A CoMIC SERENATA. By AMr. G R E C I T A T I V O. RITHEE tell me, cousin Sue, Why they make so much to do, Why all this noise and clatter ? Why all this hurry, all this bustle, Law how they croud, and bawl and juftie, I cannot guess the matter. For whom must all this puther be ? The Emperor of Germanee, Or Great Mogul is coming; Such eating, drinking, dancing, singing, Such cannon firing, bells a ringing, Such trumpeting and drumming ! A IR. ( 20 ) A r R. All this for a poet-O no- Who liv'd lord knows how long ago? How can you jeer one, How can you fleer one, A poet, apot, 0 no,--- 'Tis not so, Who liv'd lord knows how long ago: It muff be son:e great man, A prince, or a flate-man, It can't be a poet-O no; Your poet is poor, And nobody lure, Regards a poor poet I trow: The rich ones we prize, Send 'em up to the skies. But not a poor poet-O no- Who liv'd lord knows how long ago. R E C I T A T I V O. Yet now I call to mind, Our lamed docQor boasted, One Shikfpur did of all mankind, Receive from heav'n the moil-head- That he could wonders do, And did 'em o'er and o'er, Raise fpri:es, and lay 'em too, The like ne'er seen before. A conjurer was he ! Who with a pen in hond, Had earth, and air, and sea, And all things at commaund, AIR. ( 2 ) AIR. O'cr each heart he was ruler, I' ide 'cm warmer or cooler, Could make 'em to laugh or to cry; W'hat we lock'd in our brealts, 'Ilho' as clof. as in chests, Was not hid from the Conjurer's eye; Tho' fins I have none I am glad he is gone, No maid could live nearfuch a mon. If he saw ye, he knew ye, Would look thro' and thro' ye, Thro' skin, and your flefli, and your cloaths, Had you vanity, pride, Fifty follies bcfide, He would fee 'em, as plain as your nose; Tho' fins I have none I am glad he is gone, No maid would live near such a mon. Let us sing it, and dance it, Rejoice it, and prance it, That no man has now such an art; What would come of us all, Both the great ones and fma!l, Should he live to peep now in each heart. Tho' fins I have none, 1 am glad he is gone, Nc maid could live near such a mon. 0N C ( 22 ) S O N G XXVIU. SWEET -* WILLYO. y Mr. G --- HE pride of all nature was sweet Willy 0, The first of all Ivains, -Ie gladden'd the plains, None ever was like to sweet Willy 0. He sung it so rarely did sweet Willy 0, He melted each maid, So fiillful he play'd, No ihepherd e'er pip'd like the sweet Willy 0. All Nature obey'd him, this sweet Willy 0, Wherever he came, Whate'er had a name, Whenever he sung follcw'd sweet Willy 0, He wou'd be a t soldier this sweet Willy O,- When arm'd in the field, With sword and with shield, The laurel was won by the sweet Willy 0, He charm'd 'em when living, the fweetWilly 0, And when Willy dy'd, 'Twas Nature that figh'd, To part with her all in her sweet Willy 0. S O N G XXIX. The Dranmatic Race. a CATCH. By a Lo.ver of he 7rs. L E A R, clear the course - make room - make room I fay ! Now they are off, and bohnJon makes the play. b Shak/fearc. - J)/ri":r of Tragea'. I'll ( 23 ) PIll bett theodds-done fir, with you and you Shakespeare keeps near him -and he'll win it too : Here's even money - done for a ihundred, done- Now Johnson ! now, or never - he has won. 11 take my oath, tlhat Shakespeare won the prize - Damnmc. whoever fays he loft it, lies. S O N G XXX. A GLEE. Bj Dr. l-- O ME, nymphs and fawns, where'er ye be, To this your Father'j Jubilee, With a tivy, tivy, tivy-tivie, ti. Come elves, and fairice, in a row, And if you ever sung, sing now, With a row-dow, row tidow, dow. Ev'n Caliban, tho' void ofart, With growling bale, shall bear a part, With a Ban, Ban, Cacaliban. S O N G XXXI. QU E EN M A B. A CANTTAT. The ,Wor-ds b' Mr. B----- The Mu/ic by Mr. Dibdin. RECITATIVE. O T long ago, 'tis said, a proclamation, Was sent abroad through all the Fairy nation; Mab to her loving'fubjets - A decree, At Shakeipear's tomb to hold a Jubilee. A C- ( 24 ) ACCOMPANIED. The night was come, and now on Avon's fide Z'he pigmy race was f'en, Attended by their queen, On chaFers some, and tome on crickets ride, The queen appear'd fiom far, Mounted in a nut fhcll carr; Six painted lady birds the carriaoe drew; And now the calvacade, In order due arrav'd, March'd firll, Were erl}, The sacred Mulb'ry grew, And there their homage paid: Next they fought the holy ground, And while A thousand glow-worm torches glimmer'd round; Thus Good Fellow, the herald of his fame, Did from the alabanier heiht proc!aim, The poets titles and his itile. A I R. Shakcfpeare, heaven's most favor'd creature, T ruelt copier of Natute, Firlt of the Parnassian train; Chiefelt fav'rite of the mutes, Wnich foe'er the poet chiJofes, Blest alike in ev'rv itrain. Lire's great censor, and infpesor, Far;cy's treasurer, Wit's direcor, Artless to the shame of art; Mailer of the various paflions, - Leader of all inclinations, Sov'reign of the 'human heart. E- ( 25 ) R'E C I T A T I V E. Then did the queen an acorn take, Fill'd with morn and ev'ning dew, Brufli'd from ev'ry fragrant brake, That round the lawns of Stratfora grew. ACCO M PANIE D. And thus said she, libation do I makc, To ourfriend and father's shade: 'Twas Shakespeare that the Fairies made And men shall give us honour for his fake. A 1 R. O happy bard, wlhoe poJtent filill, Can give existence where it will. Let giant wisdom firive to. chale, From man's belief the Fairy race; Religion fiern our pow'r rejeEt, Philosophy our tales neglect, Only trusting what 'tis feeing; Combat us-howe'er they lift, la thy scenes we shall exist, Sure as if Nature gave us being. S O N G XXXII. The D E. Upon idedicaling a Bu1tidinig, and erect7ig a SlratrC to Shakespeare, At Stratford upon Avon. Wfrritten andfpoken by D. Garrick, Es/. The lMu/c compo/fd by Dr. Arne. T O what blet' genius ofthe isle, Shall Gratitude her tribute pay, D Decree3 ( 26 ) Decree the festive day, Ere& the flatue, and devote the pile ? Do not your sympathetic hearts accord, To own the " bosom lord ?" 'Tis he! 'tis he-that demi-god ! Who Avon's flow'ry margin trod, While sportive fancy round him flew, Where nature led him by the hand, Inftruced him in all fne knew, And gave him absolute command i 'Tis he ! 'tis he ! ' The god of our idolatry !" To him the song, the edifice we raise, He merits all our wonder, all our praise ! Yet ere impaticct joy break forth, In founds that lift the foui from earth: And to our fpell-bou nd minds impart Some faint idea'of his magic art; Let awful silence still the air ! From the dark cloud, the hidden light Bursts tenfold bright ! Prepare ! prepare ! prepare ! Now swell at once the choral song, Roll the full tide of harmony along; Let Rapture sweep the trembling firings, And fame expanding all her wings, With all her trumpet-tongues proclaim, The lov'd, reyer'd, immortal name ! Shakespeare ! Shakespeare ! Shakespeare ! Let th'inchanting found, From Avon's shores rebound; Thro' the air, Let it bear, The precious freight the envious nations round. CHO- ( 27 ) C H O R 17 8. Swell the choral flng, Roll the tide of harmony along, Let iaptuwe sweep the filings, Fame expand her iving5, 'V it!l ilc truJlric;t-t;- llg.-i¢' , po'-l:iTm, 'The lov'd, rever'd, inmmortal nalam ! Shakespeare ! Shakespeare ! Shakespeare ! AIR I. -' Sweetest Bard that ever sung, Nature's glory, Fancy's child; Never sure did witching tongue, Warble forth such wood-notes wild ! Come each Muse, and filler Grace, Loves and pieafures hither come; Well you know this happy place, Avon's banks were once your home. Bring the laurel, bring the flow'rs, Songs of triumph to him raise; He united all your pow'rs, All uniting, sing his praise !" Tho' Philip's fam'd unconquer'd son, Had ev'ry blood-flain'd laurel won; He figh'd-that his creative word, (Like that which rules the kies,) Could not bid other nations rife, To glut his yet unfated fvord: But when our Shakespeare's matchless psn, Like Alexander's sword, had done with men; He heaved no sigh, he made no moan, Not limited to human kind, He sir'd his wonder-teemiing mind, RaL'd other worlds and beings of his own ! D z AIR -( 28 ) AIR 1. -" Wrhen Nature, smiling, hail'd his birth, To him unbounded pow'r was given ; The whirlwind's wing to sweep the s&y, *' The frenzy-rowling eye, To glance from heav'n and earth, From earth to hcav'n !" Q from his inmfe of-fire Could but one spark be caught; Then might these humble ftraiq.s aspire, To tell the wonders he'has wrought. To tell how fitting on -his magic throne, Unaided and alone, In dreadful flare, - The subjet paflions .roYnd him ,wait; Who tho' unchain'd, tnd raging thpre, He check,, ,nflanes,,qr turns thesir mad career; With that iuperiqr lki.il, Which winds the fiery Reed at will, He gives the awful word- And they, all foaming, trembling, own him for their Lord.. With there his slaves he can controul, Or charm tlie foul; So realiz'd are all his golden.dreams, Of terror, pity, love, and grief, Tho' cnnfiious that the vision .only seems, The woe-ftruck mind finds no relief: Ingratitude would drop the tear, Col4d topded age take fire. *o fee the ,thankle'ss children of old Lear, ipuprn at t eir king and fire ! Witl; his our 'reafcn .too grows wild, What Nature had ciisjoin'd, 'he P oet's po.w'r combin'd, XadnEif and' Age, ingratitude and child. Ye ( 29 ) Ye guilty, lawless tribe, Efcap'd from punishment by art or bribe, At Shakespeare's bar appear! No bribing, shuffling there- His genius like a ruffling flcod, Cannot be withftoocd, Out burits the peneteitial tear ! The look appal'd the crimes reveals, The marble hearted monller feels, Whose hand is flain'd with blood; S E h - C H OR U s. When law is weak,' and justice fails, The Poet holds the sword and scales. A I R III. " Though crimes from death and torture fly, The swifter muse, Their flight pursues, Guilty mortals more than die ! They live indeed, but live to feel The scourge and.wheel, ' On the torture of the mind they lie; Should harrafs'd nature fink to reft, The Poet wakes the scorpion in the breast, Guilty mortals more than die !" When our Magician more infpir'd, By charms, and spells, and incantations sir'd, Exerts his most tremendous pow'r, The thunder growl, the heaven's low'r, And to his darken'd throne repair, The Demons of the deep, and Spirits of the air; But soon these horrors pars away, Thro' flornm and night breaks forth the day: D 3 ie ( 3 ) He files,-they vanish into air ! The bufkin'd warriors disappear ! Mute the trumpets-mute the drums, The scene is changed-Thalia comes, Leading the nymph Euphrosyne, Goddess of Joy and Liberty ! She and her fillers, hand in hand, Link'd to a num'rous frolick band, With roses and with myrtle crown'd, O'er the green velvet lightly bound, Circling the monarch of th'inchanted land ! A IR IV. " Wild, frantic with pleasure, They trip it in meafurc, To bring him their treasure, The tieafure of joy. How gay is the measure, How sweet is the pleasure, How great is the treasure, The treasure of joy. Like roles fresh blowing, Their dimpled cheeks glowing, His mind is o'ex flowing; A treasure of joy." His rapture perceiving, They smile while they're giving, He smiles at receiving, A treasure of joy." With kindling cheeks, and sparkling eyes, Surrounded thus, the hard in transport dies; The little loves, like bees, Cluf'ring and climbing up his knees, dHis brows with roses bind; While C 3r ) While Faney, Wit, and Humour spread Their wings, and hover round his head, Impregnating his mind. Which teeming soon, as soon brought forth, Not a tiny spurious birth, Bat out a mountain came, A mountain of delight ! Laughter roar'd out to fee the fight, And Fallaff was his name ! With sword and shield he, puffing, Rrides; The joyous revel-rout Receive him with a Ihout, And modest Nature holds her fides: No single pow'r the deed had done, But great and small. Wit, Fancy, Humour, Whim, and Jest, The huge, milhapen heap imprefs'd; And lp-Sir John I A compound of 'em all, A comic world in one. AI R V. 4' A world where all pleasures abound, So fruitful the earth, So quick to bring forth, And the world too is wicked and round. As the well-teeming earth, With rivers and fhow'rs, Will smiling bring forth Her fruits and her flow'rs; So Faltlaff will never decline; Still fruitful and gay, He moistens his clay, And his rain and his rivers are wine: Of ( 32 ) Of the world he has all, but its care; No load, but of flesh, will he bear; He laughs off his pack, Takes a cup of old sack, And away with all sorrow and care." Like the rich rainbow's various dyes, Whose circle sweeps o'er earth and skies, The heav'n-born muse appears; Now in the brighter colours gay, Now quench'd in fhow'rs, she fades away, Now blends her smiles and tears. Sweet swan of Avon ! ever may thy stream Of tuneful numbers be the darling theme; Not Thames himself, who in his silver course Triumphant rolls along, Britannia's riches, and her force, Shall more harmonious flow in song. O had those bards, who charm the liR'ning Ihore Of Cam and lfis, tun'd their clafiic lays, And from their full and precious store, Vouchfaf'd to fairy-haunted Avon praise ! (Like that kind bounteous hand , Which lately gave the ravifh'd eyes Of Stratford swains A rich command, Of widen'd river, lengthen'd plains And opening ikies) * The D- f D- --, with the concurrence of Mr. B---y, moil generotJily ordered a great numbcr of trees to be cut down, to open the river Bdvor. for the 7Juilet. Nor (33 3 Nor Creek, nor Roman itreams would flow along, More sweetly clear, or more sublimely Itrong, Nor thus a Ihephcrd's feeble notes reveal, At once the weakel numbers, and the warnmef rcal. AIR VI. "Thou foft-flowing Avon, by thy fitver iream, Of things more :than.mortal, sweet Shakespeare .woold.dream; 'The. fairies;by.moon-light dance round his green bed, For -hallow'd the turff.is whichpillow'd his head. The.lovelltricken .nraiden, the: fft-fighing.fwain. Here rove without danger, and :figl without pain; The sweet bud of beauty no .blight ihall here dread, For hallow'd-the.turff is which pillow'd his head. Here youth shall be fam'd for their love and their truth, And chearful old age feel the spirit of youth ; For the raptures of Fancy here poets shall tread, For hallow'd the turffis that pillow'd his head. Flow on, silver Avon, in song ever flow, Be the swans on thy bosom Rill whiter than snow, Ever full be thy Itream, like his fame may it spread, And the turff ever hallow'd which pillow'd his head." th&' ( 34 Tho' bards with envy-aching eyes, Bchold a tow'ring eagle rife, And would his flight retard; Yet each to Shakespeare's genius hows, Each weaves a garland for his lrow'i, To crn v'!. 'he heav'n-dillingui.h'd bard. Nature had form'd him on her noblest plan, And to the genius join'd the feeling man. What tho' with more thain mortal art, Like Neptune he dirests the storm, Lets looce !ike w;nds the paffioas of the heart, To wreck the human form; Tho' from his mind ruih forth, the Demons to destroy, His heart ne'er knew but love, and gentleness, and joy. A I R VIL " More gentle than the southern gale, Which softly fans the bl.ffomn'd vale, And gathers on its ba-lmy wing The fragrant treamues of the spring, Breathing delight on all it meets, '" And giving, as it 'teals, the sweets." Look down, blest spirits, from above, With all thy wonted gentleness and love Anxd as th- wonders of thy pen, By heav'n infpi:'d, To virtue fr'd, The charm'd, aftonifh'd tons of men ! With no reproach, ev'n now, thou view'fl thy work, To nature sacred as to truth, Where ( 35 ) Where no alluring mischiefs lurk, To taint the mind of youth. Still to thy native spot thy smiles extend,' And as thou gav'ft it fame, that fame defend; And may no sacrilegious hand Near Avon's banks be found, To dare to parcel out the land, And limit Shakespeare's hallow'd ground t. For ages free, still be it unconfin'd, As broad, and general as thy boundless mind; Can Britih gratitude delay, To him, the glory of this isle, To give the festive day The song the statue and devoted pile ? To him the firlt of poets, best of men ? ' We ne'er lhall look upon his like again !" DUET. Shall the hero laurels gain, For ravag'd fields, and thousands slain . And shall his brows no laurels bind, Who charms to virtue human kind ? CHORUS. We will his brows with laurel bind, Who charms to virtue human kind: Raise the pile, the statue raise, Sing immortal Shakespeare's praise ! The ofng will cease, the flone decay, But his name, And undiminifh'd fame, Shall never, never pass away. t This alludes to a de/ig of incloqing a large common field, at StratfJrd. SONG ( 36 ) S O N- G XXXIII. From SHAKESPEARE'^ CYMBELINE. By Mr. WILLIAM COLLINS. T' O fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds- lhall bring Each op'ning sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghoR fihall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No wither'd- witch liall here'be feern; No goblins lead their nightly crew The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew ! The red-breast oft at ev'ning hours Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gather'd flow'rs, To deck the ground where thou art laid.- When howling.winds, and beating rain, In temperss hake the 'sylvan cell; Or 'midRf the chace on ev'ry plain, The tender thought on thee ihall dwell. Each lonely scene shall thee restore, For thee the tear be duly shed: Belov'd, till life could charm no more: And mourn'd, 'till pity's self be dead. SO NG t 37 ) SONG XXXIV. To SYLVIA. By David Garrick, .£Ey; F truth can fix thy wav'ring heart, Let Damon urge his claim, He feels the paflion void of art, ' The pure, the conflant flame. Tho' -ighing fvains their torments tell, Their fenlual love contemn; They only prize the beauteous Ihell, But flight the inward gem. Poffefflon cures the wounded heart, 'Defiroys the transient fire; But when the mind receives the dart, Enjoyment whets desire. By age your beauty will decay, Your mind improves with years; As when the blossoms fade away, The rip'ning fruit appears. May heav'n and Sylvia grant my suit, And bless the future hour, That Damon, who can taste the fruit, May gather ev'ry flower. SONG XXXV. The YELLOW-HAIR'D LADDIE. N.-April, when primroses paint the sweet plain, And summer appxoaching rejoiceth the swain, E The ( 38 ) The yellow-hair'd laddie would'oftdntinies gb To wild'and deep glens, 'where' the hawthorn- trees grow. There under'the lhade of ah old sacred thorn, With freedom he:fung his loves evening an' morn ;. He fang withifo-foft'and enchanting a found, That fylvais 'and fairies,.unfeen, danc'd around. The Theplierd thus sung, tho' youn'WlMaya'be fair, -Her beauty is dash'd with a proud, scornful air-3 ·But Susie was handfome,,and sweetly could sing, And her'breath like the-breezes perfumnd in ttis -spring. That Maddie, in all the gay bloom of heryouth, Like the moon was inconidant, and never spoke truth'; But Susie was faithful, good-humour'f, and free, And fair as the gddefs that prTifig-frdon the sea. The mamma's fine ddaughter, with all her great dow'r, Was aukwardly airy, and freqiently four: Then sighing, he wish'd, would parents agree, The'"witry, sweet Sulie his .aiftrefs might be. 'SO N "G XXXVI. :Set by Dr. ARN E. In The Way to 'keep him. 'rhe'Wods 'by Dairid 'Garrickj, EA; Y -7E fair married dimes, tho so often de-o 'plore, That a lorer once bleif'd isialover no i-tre ; 'Ateild C 39 > C'-Y Attend/to-my. counsel, nor.blulh to be taught, That .pudence hul- cheril what beauty has caugh t. The. blornl of vyur' hcc:, and :h- giance of -: - -your eye, Your roles and lillies may make. the men sigh s But roses and lillies, and sighs pass away, And paflion will die as your beauties decay. Use the man that ydu wed like your fav'rite guictar: Tho' music in both, they are both apt to jar; How tuneful and soft from a delicate touch, Not haid)ed too rougnly, nor play'd on too much !- The sparrow and linnet will feed fromyour hand, Grow tame by your kindness, and come at com- mand: Exert with your husband the fame happy kiil; For hearts, like your birds, may be tam'd to, your will. Be gay and good-humour'd, complying.and kind, Turn the chief of'your care from your face to. your mind; 'Tis there that a wife may her conqueRs improve, And Hymen Thall rivet the fetters of love. SONG XXXVII,. Set by Dr. Boyce. Sung by Mlr. Champcefs, in Harlequin's Invasion. NOME, chear up, my. lads, 'tis to glory we ~> S~Reer, To add something new to this wonderful year: E. . .. To., ( 40 ) To hon6ur we call you, not press you like flavee; For who are so free as we sons op the waves ? CHORUS. Heart of oak are our snips, heart of oak are our.men; We always are ready, Steady,. boys, fleady; We'll fight, and we'll conquer, again and again. We ne'er fee our foes, but we wish them to flay; They never fee us, but they wish us away; If they run, why we follow, and run them a- shore; For if they won't fight us, we cannot do more. Heart of oak, rc. They. swear they'll invade us, there terrible foes, They'll frighten our women, our children, and beaus; But should their flat-bottoms in darkness geto'er, Still Britons they'll find to receive them alhore. Heart of oak, &c. We'll lill make them run, and we'll lill make them sweat, In spite of the devil an4 Brussels Gazette; Then chear up, my lads, with one voice let us sing, Our soldiers, our tailors, our flatefmen and king, Heart of oak, 3'c. SONG( ( 4.- ) S 0 N G XXXVIII. In HARLEQOIN'S INVASION. 0 arms ! :ye brave'mortals, to arms! The road to renown lies before ye ! The name of king Shakespeare has charms To rouse ye to a&tions of glory ! Away ! ye brave.mortals, away ! 'Tis Nature calls on ye to save her; What man but would Nature obey, And.fight for her Shakespeare for ever 2; S O N G XXXIX. In HARLEQUIN'S INVASION. LD women we are, And as wife in the chair, As fit for the quorum as men; We can scold on the bench, Or examine a wench, And like them can be wrong now and then>. C HR 0 R U S. For look the world thro', And. you'll find-iin ten, Old women can do As much as old men. We can hear a fad.cafe,. With a no-meaning fdce, And, though shallow, yet.feem to-be deep. Leave all to the clerk, For when-matters grow dark, Their Worships had better go sleep. For look.the world thro, &r.. E 3 When; ( 42 ) When our wisdom is taik'd, And hard quellions are ask'd, We'll answer them best with a snore; We can mump a tid bit, And can joke without wit, And what can their Worships do more ? For look the world thro', &c. SONG XL. In- Harlequin's Invasion. P HRICE happy the nation that Shakespeare X has charm'd ! More happy the bosom his genius has warm'd ! Ye children of Nature, of Fashion, and Whim, He painted ye all, all join praises to him ! CHO R US. Come away ! come away ! His genius calls-you mull obey ! From highest to lowest, from old unto young, All flates and conditions by him have been sung; All p'afions and humours were rais'd by his pen; lie could soar with the eagle, and sing with the wren. Come away, &c. To praise him, ye Fairies, and Genii repair ? He knew where you haunted, in earth or in air: No phantom so subtle could glide from his view, The wings of his fancy were swifter than you. Come away, &c. SON G ( 43 ) S O N G XLI. Sung by Mrs. Cibber, in lhe Winter's Tale. Set By Mr. Michael Arne. OME, come, my good Shepherds, our flocks we must shear; Jn your holiday suits with your lasTes appear: The happiest of folks are the guiltless and free.; And who are so guiltless, so happy, as we ? We harbour no paflions by luxury taught; We pradife no arts with hypocrisy fraught: What we think in our hearts you may read in our eyes, For, knowing no fallhood, we need no disguise. By mode and caprice are the city dames led; But we all the children of nature are bred: By her hands alone we are painted and dreft, For the roses will bloom, when there's peace in the breast. The giant Ambition,. we never can dread; Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head: Content and sweet chearfulnefs open our door; They smile with the simple, and feed with the poor. When love has possess'd us, that love we reveal; Like the flocks that we feed are the paflions we feel; So harmless and simple we sport and we play, And leave to fine folk to deceive and betray. SONG C 44 ) S O N G XLIL TIe Words by Mr. Garrick. E medley of mortals. who make up this .j.y throng, Spare your witfor a moment, and lift to my song. What you would not expet. here,. my wit.lhall be new,- [true. And what is more firange, ev.ry word lhall be Sing tantara-rarar truth all,. truth all. - Not a toy in the lhop you'll buy cheaper than mine; [coin ; Send your lasses. to me, and you'll spare all.your The ladies alone will pay dear ior their fcill, For if they will hear me, their tongues mutl lie. hill. Sing tantara-rara, mute all, &c. Tho'revels ire fcorn'd by the grave and thewife,- Yet they praaife all day what they seem to de- fpife. Examine mankind from the great to the small, Each.mortal's.difguis'd, and the world is a ball- Sing tantara rara, masks all, &c. The parson, brim-full. of October and grace, With a long taper pipe, and a round ruddy face, Will.rail at our doings ; but when it is dark, The parson's difguis'd, and led home by the clerk. The fierce roaring blade, with long sword and cock'd hat, [that ; With blood he'll do this, and zounds hell do Whea ( 45 ) -When he comes to the trial, he fails in his Fare, And shows that his looks are but maeks to his heart. The beau acs the rake, and will talk of amours, Shows letters from wives, and appointments from whores; But a creature so modetl avoids all disgrace; For how would he blush, ihould he come face to face! The courtier and patriot, 'mongft other ine things, [kings; Will talk of their country, and love to their But the malk will drop off, if you ihake but the pelf, And shew king and country all center'd in self. With an outside of virtue, Miss Squeamish the prude, [are rude: Ifyou touch her, she faints ; if you speak, you Thus fle's prim, and the's coy, tho' virtue {he 'as none, [John. And perhaps Ihe's caress'd by the coachman or With a grave mask of wisdom, fay physic and law, In your cafe there's no fear, in your cause there's no flaw; 'Till death or the judge have decreed, they look big, [wig. And you find you have trusted a full bottom'd Thus life is no more than a round of deceit, Each neighbour will find that his next is. a cheat; But ( 46 ) u.t if, 0 ye mortals, there tricks ye purfiwe. Y.o firit cheat youifoives,. and the devil cheat, you. Sing rantara rara, that's all, S N. G XLIL' Sung in L E ' H . E mortals, whom fancies and troubles per-. plex,. Whom follies mifguide,..-and infirmities vex; Whose lives hardly know what it is to be blet; Who rife without joy, and lie down without reft; Obey the glad summons, to Lethe repair, Drink deep of the fiream, and forget all your care. Old maids shall forget what they wish'd for inr vain, And young ones. the rover they cannot regain; The rake Ihall forget how laft.night he was cloy'd, And Chloe again be with rapture enjoy'd: Obey then the summons, to Lethe repair, And drink an oblvion to trouble and care; And drink an oblivion, &c. The wife at one draught may forget all her wants, Or drench her fond fool to forget her gallants; The troubled in mind fhall-go chearful away, And yesterday's wretch be quite happy to-day ; Obey then the summons, to Lethe repair, Drink deep of the ftrean, and forget all your care. Drink deep, &c. S O N G Xt -) J S 0 N - XLIV. .Sung in Lethe, by Mrs. C L 'vt- Set by Dr. Arne. r l H.E card invites, in crouds we ly,, To join the jovial rout ftoil cry ; What joy-from cares and plagues all days To hie to the midnight hark'away ? Nor war.t, nir pain., nor'griefs, nor care, Nor dronifh husbands enter there; Th- brilk, the bold, the young, the gay, All hie to the midinight hark away. Uncounted frrikes the morning clock, And drowsy watchmen idly knock 'Till daylight peeps, we fpnrt and play, And roar to the jolly hark away. When -tir'd with sport, to bed we creept And kill the tediou's xlay with sleep, To-morrow's welcome call obey, And again to the midnight hark away. S O N G XLV. In The Way 'to keep him. Set 'by Dr. Arne. T7 'E fair, pofTefs'd of ev'ry charm :to captivate the will; Whose smiles can rage iffelf.difarm, Whose frowns at 'Once can kill; say, ( 48 ) Say, will you deign the verse to hear, Where flatt'ry bears no part; . An honest verse, that flows'fincere And candid from the heart? Great is your pow'r; but, greater yet, Mankind it might engage, If, as ye ell can make a net, Ye all could make a cage: Each nymph a thousand hearts may take; For who's to beauty blind ? But to what end a pris'ner make, Unlers we've strength to bind ? Attend the counsel often told, Too often told in vain; Learn that best art, the art to hold, And lock the lover's chain. Gamesters to little purpose win, Who lose again as fast; Tho' beauty may the charm begin, 'Tis sweetness makes it last. SO N G XLVI. The JYords by Mlr. GARRICK, Set by Mr. Howard. NCE more I'll tune the vocal mhell, To hills and dales my passion tell, A flame which time can never quell, But burns for thee, my Peggy: You greater bards, the lyre 1hould hit For fay, what fabjet is more fit, Than to record the sparkling wit, And bloom of lovely Peggy Th The ( 49 ) The fun firRf rising in the morn, That paints the dew.befpangled thcrnm Does not so much the day adorn, As does my lovely Pegy And when in Thetis, lap to reft, He fireaks with gold the ruddy weft, He's not so beauteous as, undreli, Appears my lovely Peggy. When Zephyr on the vi'let blows, Or b.eathes upin the damafs role, It does not half the fwects disclose, As do.s my lo:.ey Peggy: I stole a kifs the other day, And (trulf me) nought but truth I fay, The iragrance of the blootning May WVas not so fvweet as Peggy. \Was she array'd in ruflic weed, With Lhe the bleating flocks I'd feed, And pipe upon the oaten reed, To please my lovely Peggy: With her a cottage would deli7ht; .-il's happy when she's in my fight; i>:t when flie's gone, 'tis end!kfs night, All's dark without my Peggy. While bees from flow'r to flow'r fliil rove,' And-linnets warble thro' the grove, Or Itately swans the water love, So long shall I love Peggy: And when death, with'his pointed dart, Shall firike the blow that tives my heart, My words shall be, when I depart, Adieu my lovely Peggy i T? SON G ( s5 ) S O N G XLVII. The Words and Muflc hy Dr. Arne. Sung by Mlrs. Pinto. N YMPHS and shepherds, come away, Wanton in the sweets of May; Trip it o'er the flow'ry lawns, Wanton as the bounding fawns: Frolic, buxom, blythe, and gay, Nymphs and ihepherds, come away. S 0 N G XLVIIT. Sung by Miss Pope, in The Musical Lady. OVE's a sweet and soft musician, Who derives his 'lkill from thee: Plays on ev'ry disposition, Strikes the foul on ev'ry 'key. Deep despair now 'thrgms adagio. JLively hope now'founds coragio:; O ! the ravishing transition ! Tweedle-dum, and tweedle-dee. 'S 0 'N G 'XLXrX. Sing in The CIftom of the Manor. W 7 HEN 'therofe is in bud, and blue vi'lets ;blow, And the birds sing us love-fongs from every bough When cowslips, and daisies, and daffodils spread, Adorning, perfuming the flowery mead, Our ( s, ) Our cleanly milk-pail Is fill'd with brown ale; Our table, our table's the grass: There t e fit and we ting, And we dance In a ring, And every lad has his lass; There we fit and we sing, and we dance in a ring, And every lad, every lad has his lass. When without the plough, the fat oxen do low, The lads and the lasses a sheep-shearing go; Our lhepherd ihears his jolly, jolly fleece, How much richer than that which they fay was in Greece ! 'Tis our cloth, and our food, And our politic blood; 'Tis the feat which our nobles all fit on: 'Tis a mine above ground, Where our treasure's all found, 'Tis the gold and the silver of Britain: `Tis a mine above ground, where our treasure's all found, 'Tie the gold and the silver of Britain. SONG L. Sung by lIrs. Scott, in Tamerlane. O thee, O gentle Sleep, alone Is owing all our peace; By thee our joys are heighten'd Ihown, By thee our sorrows cease. F 3 The C 52 ') The nymph whose hand by fraud or fo;co Some tyrant has possess'd, B, tihee obtarning a divorce, In her own c.oice is blefs'd. Oh flay, Arpafia bids thee iay, - 'The sadly- weeping..fair Conjures thee not to lose in day, The object of her care. To grafo v.'hofe pleasing form she fought, That motion chas'd her sleep; Thes by ourselves are ofteneft wrought The griefs for which we weep. The favourite Songs in T 0 M J N E S, A COMIC OPERA. By Mr. JOSEPH R.EED. SONG LI. By 1Mr. Mattocks. Set by Mr. Arnold. NO sport to the chace can compare, So manly the plealures it yields; -cw frwcet, how retrel{ing that air Inhal'd in.the woods and the fields ! As we rush in pursuit, new scenes Rill appear, New l':ndfcapes encountcr the eye: Not Handel's (vWeet musiC more pleases the ear, Thaa that of the hounds in full cry. New ( 53 ) New fliength from the chace we derive; Its exercif: purges the blood: How happy that mortal muff live, Whose (port yields both physic and food ! So new and so vary'd its charms, they ne'er cloy Like those of the bottle and face; The oft'ner, the harder, the more we enjoy, The more we're in love with the chace. SON G LIT. By Mrs. Pinto. Set by MIr. Holcomhe. HEN tyrant love, that fne to reals Despotic rules a virgin's breast, The needle she employs in vain To banish thought, to banish pain: For while beneath her fingers grows. In mimic bloom the silken rose, The fair, by real anguifn torn, Feels in her heart the growing thorn:; S O N G LIII. Bj Mr. Mattocks. Set by 1Mr. Arnold. T court, where true breeding abounds, They never let promises bind 'em: In country, in cities, in towns, 'Tis likewise the mode not to mind 'em. To pronifes never give trust, Of truth they are (eldom the token: Tle old proverb fays a pye-crut, And a-promife weie made to be broken. F 3 SONG ( 54 ) SON G LIV. '3yj Mlrs. Pinto. Set by JMr. Arnold. HAT passion, which harrows the foul, JL By reason we firive to remove; But'reafon's too weak to controul A paflion, so pow'rful as love. Then why this vain war with desire? Refiltance but doubles the fmarc: The more I oppose the fierce fire, It rages the more in my heart. SONG L V. Sung by ir. Shuter. OME, leave off these tricks, or I'll lend you a flick, fir; I guess, you young dog, what you drive at; For shame ! keep aloof, fir; While under my roof, fir, Pray none of your wenches in private. You'll give the world handle My mansion to scandal; Remember, few damsels are barren Then beat up elsewhere, fir, The game, and forbear, fir, To poach any more in my wairen. SONG ( 55 ) S O N G LVI. Sun g ly Mr11. Mattocks. SWAINS, tell me no more of the transports S divine You reap with the women, exclusive of wine. Wine heightens our pleasures, each joy will im- prove, Adds smartness to converse, and fuel to love. Nor tell me, ye topers, that wine ever made You perfecly happy without woman's aid. This maxim attend, if true bliss you would have, Of both be a lover, to neither a slave. S O N G LVII. Sung by Mr. Shuter. ND Ihould a young bantling appear, Ari Dame Scandal at me will let fly; Each neighbour will snigger and fleer, " I guess who'as a hand in the Fye." The jokers a fine game will go, And hourly have me on the hip, With "'Squire, an old coachman you kr.ow Loves always the smack of the whip." SON G LVIII. Sung by MI/r. Barnihaw. HAT gold is an idol all people adore, Their pratice evinces most clearly; E'en patriots themselves often grasp at this oIc, Their country scarce loving so dearly. Let ( 56) Let the prelate 'gainft riches employ tongue and pen, Be his eloquence ever so charming, Only think of his lordship's full coffers, and. then- You'll sneer at both preacher and sermon. SONG LIX. By EMr. S H U TE R. H E women attempted, bome few years JL ago, Their lovers to charm with a small head; But now in their noddles as bumpy they show, As if the whole carcase was all head. This fashion the sex of admirers will rob, Their conquests they certainly push ill, In driving to charm with a bolfter'd-out nob, As large as a Winchefler bushel. SONG LX. By Mi'rs. P I N T O. Earef aunt, attend my prayer! Let your indignation cease: These stern looks my bolbm tear; Have some pity on a niece ! From this hard, this cruel firoke. Your lov'd darling kindly save ! The fad sentence, 0 revoke ! Or you doom me to the grave. SONG ( 57 ) S ONG LXI. 2.y ]/rs. P i t r O. P'HIRST of wealth too oft bewitches I The deluded parent's heart; But can worldly pomp or riches Real happiness impart ? Love's the fweetetf, dearest pleasure To the human heart convey'd: Those, who give up love for treasure, Quic the fubltance for the lhade. S 0 N G LXII. By Mrs. MATTOCKS. 'AD I quite clear in land a year 1 Full twenty thousand pound, And did surpass the fairest lass That ever trod the ground; Tho' dukes and lords, with itars and fiord, Should court while courting's good, For him alone I'd flight each don: I wish I may die but I would ! He is in truth a well-made youth, And of the fveeteft mein: Whue'er his wife, Ihe'll lead a life As happy as a queen. No courtly dame need think it flhame To wed, if he should woo: No swain I know could charm me so, I wis I may die if he do ! S'ONG ( s8 Y S 0 N G LXIIL Sung .y Mr. Mattocks. Set 6y Dr. Arnea. HAT pity, that nature has cast Between us this diflance in life,. When nearness in temper and taste Hath form'd us for hufoand and wife ! Should Hymen my passion befriend, How sweet were each conjugal kifs ! Such raptures our loves would attend, That angels mightenvy my bliss. SO N G LXIV. Sung By Mr. Du-,ellamyi The MIufi by Dr. lrne.. 'TILL luxury came into play,. And fwell'd the expences of life>. Even dowerlefs beauty could fiay Each youth in the choice of a wife. But now such a chargeable train Of wants has the conjugal tLate,. That women should only be ta'en. Like money.not current-by weight. S O N G LXV. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. Set by Mr. .rnold. U T Y is nature's firongeft law; A tie, that all ihould have in view; A debt of gratitude, love, awe, To every tender parent due. By 1 ( 59 ) ' -y heaven 'tis ftamp'd upon our frames, In polish'd minds it flines the moll: he wretch that duty's:bond disclaims, Mul be to every virtue loft. :S 0 N G LXVI. Sung S y Shutcr. |O W happy a father am I ? How blefs'd the condition I'm in ! My heart is so light, that for joy I could almof jump out of my k;in. Search England around and around, Slearch all nations under the sky, And in 'em there will not be found A father so happy as I. S O N G LXVII. D U E T. By Mr. Shuter and Mrs. Pinto. Set ,y AIr. Handel. PinU. f Do not look so wild ! Have pity on a child ! Such indignation my poor heart will break. Shu. Wretch ! I will not hear you; Hence ! I cannot bear you; In such cause how dare you Speak t Pin, ( 60 ) i3in. Words of such angry firain Rend my fad heart in twain Can a fond father's resolve be to kill P Shut. I shall swear and blulter, I'm in such a fluster. Cease this whining racket, Or, I tell you roundly, I fnall thrash your jacket Soundly For thwarting my will. Pin. Will nothing move you ? Think how 1 love you, And with soft pity attend my fad moan. ,hu. 'Tis in vain to f.ivel. Pin. Hear me- Shi. Fly a thousand miles hence. Pin. 0 hear me ! Shu. Disobedient devil ! Silence ! Go, go: get thee gone. S 0 N G LXVlIT. Sung b, lMr. Mattocks. Set by Dr. Ar ne. y 0 U R beauteous looks inspire my mir.d With pafflion of the pureR kind: No felfill views my bosom sway, But all is love without allay, Of such a darling gem possess'd, My lot would be supremely blest; Possession would increase my joy, For charms like yours can never cloy. With every charm, with every grace Hath nature deck'd that form, and face; At your creation heaven dcfign'd To show a goddess to mankind. SONG ( 6i ) S O N G LXIX. Su,:g ly 3fr. Shutcr. 'L L humble my gentleman's prid, fir: Hands off-let me go I intreatyou, I long to be currying his hide, fir- To mummy, you dog, I could beat you ! kMy fingers now itch to be at you, But cuz holds me failler and faltrr, Or soon I would teach you, odd rat you ! To meddle with meat for your malter. S O N G LXX. Si7, lby Mr. Barnfllaw. Sc/ /'y1 Mr. Arnc. A C H noble of yore was so fond of his wife, That marriage was held the chief bicfiin- in life: Each lady so loving, so chearful, so gay, That all her delight was to please and obey. But modern fine ladies and lords are above So vulgar a passion, as conjugal love: Such quarrels and partings have happcn'd of late. As if their chief paflion were conjugal hate, S O N G LXXI. Sung I3y Mrrs. Pinto. Set by Ar. Galluppi. HE match, howe'er commodious, Mull meet my utmotl scorn: His paflion would be odious, Were he to empire born. G Such (62 ) Such hate my foul poffeifes, Each hardship I'd sustain, E'er litlen to th'addreffes Of such deterted swain. S O N G LXXI. .y Mfrs. Green. Set by Dr. Arne. rM /Y coach !-I'l begone; and from this m V~t very hour Ends all my alliance with such a rude boor. My sex, my political knowledge defpiie ? By heaven ! I could tear out the Hottentot's eyes- An illeterate clown ! give his tongue such a loose ! For the future I never let foot in your house- Adieu, my dear child-this is usage so trying, In lpite of my pride it will let me a crying. S O N G LXXIII. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. Set by Dr. Arne. SUCH beauty, manliness, and air His form and face adorn, Not half so lovely, half so fair Appears the blushing morn: His grace, his dignity, his cafe My fond affeEtions stole; He was by fate defign'd to please, And captivate the foul. SONG (63) 8 O N G LXXIV. Sang h.y lfros. Mattocks. Sit by Dr. Arne. T O be tied to a fellow one hates were a curie, A curse I could never ufrvive; Nay sooner than take him for better, for worfre By Jove ! I'd be buried alive. Should pappy infilt on my wedding a man, Whose fight would occasion the hip; Ere into such marriage he Ihould me trapan, By Jingo! I'd give him the flip. S O N G LXXV. Sung by Mrs. Baker. Set MAr. Bach. L E S T with thee, my foul's dear treasure, Sweetly will each hour be pass'd; Every day will bring new pleasure, And be happier than the last. With so lov'd a partner talking, Time will quickly glide away: With so dear a husband walking, Nature all her bloom display. Such a darling twain posseting, All my sorrows will be o'er; Thou art fortune's utmost blefling, Fortune cannot give me more. G 2 SO NG ( 64 ) S O N G LXXVI. .9y .'iJr. Pinto. Set j' ryMr. Baildon. O changeful man's delusive arts Let maids beware how they give way; Nor yield too hastily their hearts, Left each with me repenting fay, * Deserted by my faithless swain, Poor I, alas ! must love in vain." S O N G LXXVII Sung 4y lMr. Mattocks. Set ly Dr. Boyce. r E LL me, lovely charmer, why T You thus a fond adorer fly ? You surely cannot harbour Rfrife 'Gainft him, that loves you more than life ! No longer, then no longer shun The swain, by love and thee undone. Why thus a fond adorer fly ? Lovely charmer, tell me why ? S O N G LXXVIII. Surg 3> Mrs. Baker. Set .y.M lr. Arne. 't- * 0 lure me from mammy the swain did J1 employ, On every occasion, the firongeft persuasions: At length I consen.ted, and told the dear bny, That thro' the world with him I'd wander with joy. Tho' ( 65 ) Tho' prudes andold maids, by derpair ever teiz'd, My cond ut fhould;handle with malice and scandal, So vail an affecion my bosom has seiz'd, That thro' the world with him I'd wander well pleas'd. SONG LXXIX. Sung hy Mrs. Mattocks. Set ly Mr. Abel. WV HERE can we run Where can we fly, To hide us from your father's eye ? This place in troth won't hold us both- Was ever such a luckless elf? What 1hall we do ?-Here's room for you- In, in---I'l scamper for't myself. S O N G LXXX. Sung by Mr. Shuter. WH aHE N good queen Elizabeth, hiflory's boalt, From Spaniards and Frenchmen defended our coast, The. noblemen feasted on bak'd, boil'd, and roast. 0 the roast beef of Old England ! And O the English roast beef! The ladies delighted in good hearty chear. Ail kickshaws, and flipflops they left to Mon7leur; Their bre,,ftfafl in common was beef and strong beer. 0 the strong beer of Old England ! And 0 the Englfth itrong beer ! G 3 SONG ( 66 ) S O N G LXXXI. Sung by Mlrs. Pinto. Set by Mr. Arnold. WEET mercy is the loveliest flower, That Heaven e'er planted in the mind; The queen of virtues, whose soft power Can even to godhead raise mankind. Let patriot-, kings, and heroes bnall A name, that will in history live; Yet he resembles Heaven the mofl, Whose godlike bosom can forgive. S O N G LXXXII. Sung by Mrr. Morris. Set by Mr. Bates. Y OU dog, I could tear you in pieces ! I'll give all I have to my neices; I will, by the Lord ! One shilling excepted---to buy you a cord- I'm so vex'd at his choice, 1 could fight with a feather: l'would please me to fee them both hanging together. S O N G LXXXIII. Sung by MIr. Da-Bellamy. Set 6y MIr. Bach. 7THEN I'm in nuptial union join'd V With my enchanting fair, What raptures will poffels my mind ! What rran(ports Ihall I share! From ( 67 From such a sweet engaging wife New joys must hourly spring, 1 would not change so blelt a life To be the greatelt king. The favourite Songs in L 0 V E 1N A VILLAGE. C COMIC OPE RA. .y Mr. B I c K E F s T A F F E. S O N G LXXXIV. Sung by Mrs. Pinto and Mrs. Mattocks. WH OPE! thou nurse of young desires, Fairy promiser of joy; Painted vapour, glow-worm fire, Temp'rate fweer, that ne'er can cloy. Hope ! thou earnest of delight, Sotter soother of the mind; Balmy cordial, profpeft bright, Surell friend the wretched find. Kind deceiver, flatter flill, Deal out pleasures unpofff'd ; With thy dreams my fancy fi"l, And in wilhes make me blest. SONG (68) S 0 N G LXXXIV. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. xW X HENCE can you inherit So flavilh a spirit Confin'd thus, and chain'd to a log! Now fondl'd, now chid, Permitted, forbid: 'Tis leading the life of a dog. For ihame, you a lover ! More firmness discover; Take courage, nor here longer mope; Refilt and be free, Run riot like me, < And to perfect the pi&ure elope. S O N G LXXXV. Sung by MrJ. Pinto. A M y heart's my own, my will is free, And so ihall be my voice; No mortal man shall wed with me, Till first he's made my choice, Let parents rule, cry nature's laws; And children fill obey; And is there then no saving clause, Against tyrannic sway. S O NG ( 69 ) S O N G LXXXV. Sutng .y alrs. Mattocks. H EN once love's subtle poiron gains, WV A passage to the female breast; Like lightning rushing through the veins, Each wili, and ev'ry thought's poffell. To heal the pangs our minds endure, Reason in vain its skill applies; .Nought can afford the heart a cure, Biat is pleasing to the eyes, S O'N G LXXXVJI. Suing by M1r. Mattocks. H! had I been by fate decreed Some humble cottage swain; In fair Rosetta's fight to feed My. sheep upon the plain ! WVhat bliss had I been born to talte, Which now I ne'er must know ? Ye envious pow'rs ! why have ye plac'd My fair one's lot so lov1 ? S O N G LXXXVIII. Sucg by JMrs. Pinto. ENTLE youth, ah ! tell me why Still you force me thus to fly Cease, ( 70 ) Cease, oh 1 cease to persevere, Speak not what I mnuf not hear, To my heart its ease restore, Go and never fee me more. S O N G LXXXIX. Sung by Mr. Mattocks, STILL in hopes to get the better Of my Rubborn flame I try, Swear this moment to forget her, And the next my oath deny, Now prepar'd with scorn to treat her, Ev'ry charm in thought I brave; Boast my freedom, fly to meet her, And confess myself a slave. SONG XC. Sung by Mr. Morris. HERE was a jolly miller once, Liv'd on the river Dee; He work'd, and sung, from morn to night, No lark more blythe than he. And this the burthen of his song, For ever us'd to be, I care for nobody, no not I, If no one cares for me. SONG XCI. Sung .y Mr. Morris. E T gay ones and great Make the most of their fate, From ( 7I ) From pleasure to pleasure they run - Well, who cares a jot, I envy them not, While 1 have my dog and my gun. For exercise, air, To the fields I repair, With spirits unclouded and light, The blisses I find, No stings leave behind, But health and diversion unite. S O N G XCII. Sung Ay Mr. Morris. T H E honest heart. whose thoughts are clear From fraud, disguise, and guile, Need neither fortune's frowning fear, Nor court the harlot's smile. The greatness that would make us grave Is but an empty thing; What more than mirth would mortals have ? The chearful man's a king. S O N G XCIII. Sung by Mr. Dunflal. E L L, well, fay no more, Sure you told me before; I fee the full length of my tether; Do you think I'm a fool, That I need go to chool ? Ican spell you and put you together. A ( 72 ) A word to the wife, Will always suffice; Addfniggaris go talk to your parrot; I'm not such an elf, Though I fay it myself, ButI know a fieep's head from a carrot. S O N G XCIV. Sung ,y M-rs. Mattocks, CUPID, god of soft perfuafioa, Take the helpless lover's part Seize, oh seize, some kind occasion To reward a faithful heart. Justly those we tyrants call, W\ho the body would enthral; Tyrants of more cruel kind, Those who would enslave the mind. What is grandeur ? foe to reft: Childish mummery at befl; Happy I am in humble state Catch, ye fools, the glitt'ring bait. S O N G XCV. Sung by Msrs. Baker. H O W happy were my days, till now: I ne'er did sorrow feel, I role with joy to milk my cow, Or take my spinning wheel. My ( 73 ) My heart was lighter than a fly, Like any bird I sung, Till he pretended love, and I Believ'd his flatt'ring tongue. Oh the fool, the filly, filly fool, Who trusts what man may be I wish I was a maid again, And in my own country. S O N G XCVI. Sung by Mrs. Mattocks. 'W E women like weak Indians trade, W Whose judgment tinsel ihew decoys ; Dupes to our folly we are made, While artful man the gain enjoys: We give our treasure to be paid, A paltry, poor return ! in toys, S 0 N G XCVI. Sung ly Alr. Dyer. T'HIINK, my fairest, how delay, - Danger every moment brings; Time flies fivifr, and will away Time that's ever on the wing: Doubting and fufpence at best, Lovers late repentance coil, Let us, eager to be blest, Seize occasion ere 'tis loft. H SONG '( ) S 0 N G XCVIII. Sung by Mrs. Mattocks. ELIEVE me, dear aunt., If you rave thus, and ranL, You'll never a lover persuade; The men will all fly, And leave you to die, Oh, terriblechance ! an old maid- How happy the lass, Mufll he come to this pars, Who antient virginity 'scapes: 'Twere better on earth Have five brats at a birth Then in hell be a leader of-apes. S O N G XCIX. S.ung by Mr. Shuter. 7H-EN I follow'd a lass that was froward WV v and shy, Oh! I stuck to her sitss, 'till I made her comply ; Oh! I took her so lovingly round the waist, And I fmack'd her lips, and I held her fat : When hugg'd and 4haul'd, She squealPd and fquall'd ; But though she vow'd all I did was in Vain-, Yet-I pleas'd -her so well, that she bore it again, Then hoity, toity, Whifiing, frifling, Green was her grownt upon the grass; iOh! such were the joys of our dancing days. SONG ( 75 ) SONG C. Sung by Mr. Dyer. L E T rakes and libertines refign'd To fefiual pleasures range Here all the sex's charms I find, And ne'er can cool or change. Let vain coquets and prudes conceal What moit their hearts defile; With pride my pailion I reveal, Oh ! may it ne'er expire. The fun lhall cease to spread its light, The stars their orbits leave And fair creation fink in night, When I my dear deceive. SONG CI. Sung ty Mrs. Pinto. 'OW blefs'd the maid, whose bolbmo No hend-ftrong pailion knows; Her days in joy she passes. Her nights in calm repose. Where'er her fancy leads her, . No pain, no fear invades her; But pleafaLe, Without measure, From ev'ry object flows. H z SON® ( 76 ) SONG CII. Sung Ay Mr. Mattocks. N vain I ev'ry art essay, To pluck th' envenom'd shaft away, That rankles in my heart; Deep in the center six'd, and bound, My efforts but enlarge the wound, And fiercer make the smart. SO N G CIII. Sung by Mr. Mattocks. H ! how shall I in language weak, My ardent pafiion tell; Or form my falt'ring tongue to speak, That cruel word, farewel ! Farewell-but know, tho' thus we part, My thoughts can never firay: Go where I will, my conflant heart Must with my charmer fay. SONG CIV. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. OUNG I am, and fore afraid: Would yowthurt a harmless maid ? Lead anr innocent afRray ? Tempt me not, kind Sir, I pray. Men too often we believe; And, should you my faith deceive, .Rain first, and then faorake, ;Sure my tender heart would break. SONG ( 77 1 SONG CV. Sung $y AtMr. Morris. OQNS! neighbour, ne'er blufl for a trifle like this; What harm with a fair one to toy and to kifs ? The greatelt and gravtft-a truth with grimace-- Would do the fame thing, were they in the fame place. No age, no profefion, no tation is free; Totiov.ereign beapty mankind bends the knee: That power, resistless, no strength can oppose: We all love a pretty girl-under the rose. S O N G CVI. Sung by Mr. Morris. M/K 'Y Dolly was the fairest thing ' Her breath difclos'd the sweets of spring; And if for fumrmer you would seek, 'Twas planted in her eye, her cheek: Her swelling bosom, tempting ripe, Of fruitful autumn was the type: But, when my tender tale I told, I found her heart was winter cold. S O N G CVII. Sung ly Mr. Dunftall. /TW A S ever poor fellow so plagu'4d yith a WXv vixen Zawns ! Madge don't provoke me, but mind- what I fay; H 3 You've ( 78 ) You've chok a wrong parson for playing your tricks on, So pack up your alls, and be trudging away: You'd better be quiet, And not breed a riot; S'blood must I stand prating with you here all day ? I've got other matters to mind; May hap you may think me an ass; But to the contrary you'll find, A fine piece of work, by the mass t S 0 N G CVIII. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. EASE, gay reducers, pride to take, In triumphs o'er the fair; Since clowns as well can act the rake, As those in higher sphere. Where then, to shun a shameful fate, Shall hapless beauty go ? In ev'ry rank, in ev'ry Rate, Poor woman finds a toe. S O N G CIX. Sung by Mrs. Baker. INCE Hodge proves ungrateful, no farther SI'll seek, But go up to town in the waggon next week; A service in London is no such disgrace, And the register office will get me a place: Bet ( 79 ) Bet Blossom went there, and soon met with a friend; Folks fay, in her silks she's now Randing an end! Then why should not'I the fame maxim pursue, And better my fortune, as other girls do ? SONG CX. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. N love should there meet a fond pair, Untutor'd by fashion or art; Whose wishes are warm and sincere, Whose words are th' excess of the heart: If ought of substantial delignt,. On this fide the stars can be found, 'Tis sure when that couple unite, And Cupid by Hymen is crown'd. S N G CXI.. Sung by Mr. Morris. HE world is a well-furnifh'd table,. i Where guests are promifc'oufly set;. We all fare as well as we're able,. And scramble for what we can get. My simile holds to a tittle, Some gorge while some scarce have a talte; But if I'm content with a little, Enough is as good as a fcaft. SONG ( So ) SO N G CXII. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. 'T I S not wealth, it is not birth, Can value to the foul convey; Minds possess superior worth, Which chance nor gives, nor takes away. Like the fun true merit ihews; By nature warm, by nature bright; With inbred flames, he nobly glows, Nor needs the aid of borrow'd light. S O N G CXUI. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. T '- HE traveller benighted, And led thro' wary ways, iThe lamp of day new lighted, With joy the dawn surveys. The rising profpeas viewing, Each look is forward cast; He smiles, his course pursuing, Nor thinks of what is part. S O N G CXIV. Sung by Mrs. Mattocks. F ever a fond inclination Rose in your bosom to rob you of reif; Refleac with a little compaflion, On the soft pangs, which prevail'd in my breast. Oh ( 81 ) Oh where, where would you fly me ? Can you deny me, thus torn and difirel ? Think, when my lover, is by me,. Would I, how couLd I, refdfe his requet ? Kneeling before you, let me implore you; Look on me sighing, crying, dying; Ah ! is there no language can move? If I have been too complying, Hard was the conflic 'twixt duty and love. SONG CXV. Sung by Mr. Dunfiall. i Plague of those wenches, they make such a pother, When once they have let'n a man have his will; They're always a whining for something orother, And cry, he's unkind in his carriage; What tho'f he speaks them ne'er so fairly, Still they keep teazing teazing on: You cannot persuade 'em, 'Till promise you've made 'em; And after they've got it, They tell you-odd rot it, Their charaEer's blafled, they'reruin'd, undone; And then, to be sure, fir, There is but one-cure, fir, And all their discourse is of marriage. SONG CXVI. Sulng by Mlr. Mattocks. 7OW much superior beauty awes The coldelt bosoms find; But ( 82 ) But with refiflefs: foce it draws, To sense and sweetness join'd. The casket, where, to outward shew, The workman's art iis seen, Is doubly valu'd, when we know It holds a gem within. S N. G CXVII. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. W H E N we fee a, lover languif,. And his truth and honour prove, Ah ! how sweet to heal his anguish,. And repay him love for love. S O N G CXVIII. Sung by Mr. Morris. F ever I'm catch'd in those regions of fmeke, That feat of confusion and noise, May I ne'er know the sweets of a slumber un- broke, Nor the pleafare the country enjoys. Nay more, let them take-me to punish my fin,. Where, gaping, the Cockneys they fleece, Clap me up with their monfers, cry, masters' walk in, And lhew me for two-pence a-piece. S' O N G .(' 83 ) S O N G CXIX. Sung by Mrs. Pinto. 0, naughty man, I can't abide you; Are then your vows so soon forgot ' Ah ! now I fee, if I had try'd you, What would have been my hopeful lot. But here I charge you-make them happy; Bless the fond pair, and crown their bliss *Come, be a dear good-natur'd pappy, And I'll reward you with a kifs. SONG CXX. Sung by Mr. Morris. HENCE with cares, complaints, and frown.- ing, Welcome jollity and' joy; Ev'ry grief in pleasure drowning, Mirth this happy night employ: Let's to friendship do our duty; Laugh and sing rome good old strain, Drink a health to love and beauty- May they long in triumph reign. The ( 4 ) The F-AVOURITE SONGS in THOMAS AND SALLY, A CO M I C O PER A. By Mr. BICKERSTAFFE. S O N G CXXI. Composed by Dr. A R N E. Sung lby Mrs. PINTO. Y time how happy once, and gay ! M8/I Oh ! blithe I was as blithe could be: But now I'm fad, ah, well-a-day ! For my true love is gone to sea. The lads purfite, I itrive to Shun, Though all their arts are loR on me; For I can nkver love but one, And he, alas ! is gone to sea. They bid me to the wake, the fair, To dances on the neighb'ring Lee; 'But how can I in pleasure lhare, While my true love is out at sea ? The flowers droop till light's return, The pidgeon mourns its absent the; So will I droop, so will I mourn, 'Till my true love comes back from sea. SONG 85 ) SON G CXXU. Sung by iris. Thompion. " HE Mny-day of life is for pleasure, For singing, for dancing, and how; Then why will you watle such a treafu:e, In sighing, and crying- heigho ! Let's copy the bird in the meadowc, By her's tune your pipe when 'is low; Fly round, and coquet it as ihe does, And never fit crying-heigho ! Though when in the arms of a !ove-, it sometimes may haippen, 1 know, That, ere all our toying is over, We cannot help ctying-hcigho ! In age ev'ry one a new part takes, I find to my fortow 'tis so; Wihen old, you may cry till your heart hreaks, But no one will mind you-heigho ! S O N G CXXIII. Sung ', y Mrs. Pinto. , TERE I as poor as wretch can be, As great as any monarch, hc; Erc on such terms I'd mount hIs th:one, I'd work my fingers to the bone. Grant me, ye pow'rs ! I ask not wealth; Grant me but innocen, e and health. Ah ! what is grandeur link'd to vice ? 'Tis only virtue gives it price. I SONG ( '86 ) S O N G CXXIV. Sung ly Ms. Thompson. W/HEN I was a young one, what girl was like me ? So *wacton, lb airy, and brisk as a bee; I tattled, I rambled, I laugh'J, and where'er A fiddle was heard, to be fiure I v as there. To all that came near I had Something to fay; 'T".as this, Sir-and that, Sir-but icarce ever nay ; And Sundays, drefl out in my silks and my lace, I warrant I flood by the belt in the place. At twenty I got me a hulband-poor man ! WVcll, relt him, we all are as good as we can; Yet he was so peeviih, he'd quarrel for fsraws; And jealous-tho' truly I gave him some cause. He fiubb'd me, and husf'd me-but let me alone; 'Egad I've a tongue---and I paid him his own. Ye wives, take the hint, and when spouse is un- tow'rd, Stand firm to ourcharter-and have the last word. But now I'm quite alter'd, the more to my woe; I'm not what I was forty summers ago: This time's a fore foe, theie's no shunning his dart; However, I keep up a pretty good heart. Grown old, yet I hate to be fitting mum-chance; I tiill love a tune, tho' unable to dance; And books of devotion laid by on my flielf, I teach that to others I once did myoelf. SONG ( 87 ) S O N G CXXV. Sung h.y Mr. Mattocks. Tr H E echoing horn calls the fportfincn a- ]! broad, To horse, my brave boys, and away; The morning is up, and the cry of the hounds Upbraids our too tedious delay. What pleasure we feel in pursuing the fox ! O'er hill and o'er valley he flies; Then follow, we'll soon overtake him: huzza . The traitor is seiz'd on, and dies. Triumphant returning at night with the spoil, Like Bacchanals, ihouting and gay, How sweet with a bottle and lass to refresh, And lose the fatigues of the day ! With sport, love, and wine, fickle fortune defy; Dull wisdom all happiness fours: Since life is no more than a passage at bell, Let's strew the way over with flow'rs. SONG CXXVI. Sung ly Mr. Mattocks. W HEN late I wander'd o'er the plain, From nymph to nymph I strove in vain, My wild dcfires to rally; But now they're of themselves come home, And, ftranze ! no longer seek to roam They center all in Sally. I 2 Yet ( S8 ) Yet flie, unkind one, damps my joy, And cries, I court but to destroy: Can love with ruin tally ? By thcoe clear lips. thoif eyes, fwvear, 1 wou'd all deaths, ail torments bear, Rather than injure Sally. Come then, Oh come, thou sweeter far Than jeffamine and roses arc, Or iillics of the v.ally ; Oh follow love, and quit your fear, He'll guide you to the!e arms, my dear, And make me blell in Sally. S O N G CXXVII. .y JM1r. Mattocks, and Mrs. Pinto, 'Squire. CfOME, come, my dear girl, I mull not be cti deny'd; Fine cloaths you shall flash in, and rant it a.way: I'll give you this purse too; and, hark you, be- fidc, [day. We'll ki's and we'll toy all the long summer's Saly. Of kissing and toying you soon would be tir'd, O.h ! fl^'ld hapl,.s S.iliv cnneint tobe naught! Besides, Str, heii:ve nm, I scorn to be hir'd i'.e :'a.rt's not worth gaining which is to be bcutl:t. )SC~a, ZEo ( 89 ) 'S:tuire. Perhaps you're afraid oi the world's busy tongue: But know, above scandal you than fliall be put; And laugh, as you roll in your chariot along, At draggle-tall Chastity walking afoot. Sally. If only thro' fear of the world I was ihy, My coyness and modeity were but ill shown; Its pardon 'twere ealy with money to buy; But how, tell me how, I shall purchase my owvn. 'Squire. Leave morals to grey-beards, these lips were de- Jign'd For-better employment. Sally. 1 will not endure- 'Squire. Oh fye, child ! Love bids you be rich, and be kind. Sally. But Virtue commands me-be honest and poor. S O N G CXXVIII. Sung by MJ'r. Beard. F R 0 M ploughing the ocean, and thrafliing Monfitzur, In Old England vwe're landed once more; 1 3 Your go ) Your hands, my br.ve fhipnatcs, hall)o boys, , h;:t chetr; For a sailor that's jull come on Shore ? Those hectoring blades thought to scare us, no doubt, And to cut us and fliah u:-morbiieu BPit held there, avast, they were plaguily out, We have flic'd them and peppei'd them too. Then courage, my hearts, your own confzquence know, Yon invaders shall soon do you right; The lion may rouse, when he hears the cock crow, But ihould never be put in a fright. You've only to ihun your nonsensical jars, Your damn'd party and idle conteit: And let all your firife be, like us honest tars, Who shall fight for his country the belt. A sea-faring spark, if the maids can assea, Bid the Simpering gypsies look to't; Sound bottoms they'll find us in ev'ry refpe&t, And our pockets well laden to boot. The l..ndfmcn, mayhap, in the way of discourse, I-lave more art to persuade, and the like ; Eui wear those fair colours, for better for worse, Is the bargain we're willing to strike. Now, long the King, may he prosperous reign, Of no power, no ftaion afraid; May Britain's proud flag still exult o'er the main. At all points cf the compass difplay'd. No ( cr ) No quiL:failds endanger, no llorns overwhelm; Steady, feady and f£lt may fie fail; s o ignorant pilots e'er iit at the helm, Or her anchor of liberty fail. SONG CXXIX. Sung ly ME-'s. Thompson. A LL you who would wish to succeed with An a lass, Learn how the affair's to be done: For if yonu sand fooling, and fiy, like an ass, You'll lose her as sure as a gun. With whining, and sighing, and vows, and all that, As far as you please you may run; She'll hear you, and jeer you, and give you a pat, But jilt you, as sure as a gun. To worship, and call her bright goddess, is fine, But mark you the consequence, mun; The baggage will think herself ieally divine, And scorn you, as sure as a gun. Then be with a maiden, bold, frolic, and flout, And no opportunity shun; She'll tell you ihe hates you, and swear flie'll cry out, But mum--fh's as sure as a gun. SONG ( 92 ) S O N G CXXX. Sun g ly Mrs. Pinto. Ufpicious spirits, guard my love, In time oi danger near him bide: With out-spread wings around him move, And turn each random ball aside. And you his foes, though hearts of steel, Oh ! may you then with me accord; A sympathetic paflion feel, Behold his face, and drop the sword. Ye winds, your bluli'ring fury leave; Like airs that o'er the garden fwveep; Breathe soft in sighs, and gently heave The calm, smooth bosom of the deep. Till Halcyon peace return'd, once m::re, From blauts secure, and holtile harms, My sailor views his native shore, And harbours safe in these fond arms. - S 0 NG CXXXI. By Mr. Mattocks and MAirs. Pinto. 'Sfuire. W ELL niet, pretty maid; Nay, don't be afraid; I mean you no mischief, I vow; P(fa ! what is't you ail ? Come. give me your pail, And I'll carry it up to your cow. Sally. 93 'ray), let it alonc, IC've liaids of r.my own, Nor nccd our! to help m.-fmibcar J i t-iv can you pelifit ? i voni't, Sir, be kif, Nor .eaz'd t;us--go trifle eliewhers. In yon lonely grove, I saw an alcove, All round the fwiet violet springs; And there was a thrush, Hard by in a buflh, 'Twould charm you to hear how he sings. But hark ! pry'thee hark! Look yonder's a lark ! It warbles and pleases me so, To hear the soft tale, O' th' sweet nigh:ingale, I would not be tempted to go. L'gquire. Then here we'll fit down; Come, come, never frown! No longer my bliss I'll retard; Kind Venus ihall spread, Her veil over head, And the littlc roguc Cupid ke.p guird. SONG. ( 94 ) S O N G CXXXII. Sung by IMr. Mattocks, M3r. Beard, and MZr.s. Pinto. 'Squirc. AUCY rascal, this intiufion You shall answer to your coil; Bully'd !-fcandaliz'd-confufion ! All my schemes and wishes croft. Thomas. Hark you, matter, keep your distance; 'Sblood, take notice what I fay: There's the channel, no resistance, Tack about, and bear away. Sally. Would you wrest our freedom from us ? Now my heart has loft its fear. Oh ! my bell, my dearest Thomas, Sure some angel brought you here. 'Squire. Since her paltry inclination Stoops to such a thing as you, Thus I make a recantation, Wretched, foolilh girl, adieu ! S O N G CXXXIIr. Sw&g by 1M. Beard. B Ehold from many a hostile shore, And all the dangers of the main, W'hen ( 95 ) Wh