Second Act.

The act tune play'd, they meet again,
Here pity moves her for his pain,
Which fhe evades with fome

pretence, And thinks fhe may with love difpenfe, But pants to hear a man of fenfe.

Third Act.

The third approach her lover makes,
She colours up whene'er the speaks;
But with feign'd flights fhe put him by,
And faintly cries, fhe can't comply,
Altho' fhe gives her heart the lie.

Fourth Act.

Now the plot rifes, he feems fhy,
As if fome other fair he'd try;

At which the fwells with fpleen and fear,
Left fome more wife his love fhou'd share,
Which yet no woman e'er can bear.

Fifth Aa.

The laft act now is wrought fo high,
That thus it crowns the lover's joy;
She does no more his paffion fhun,
He ftrait into her arms does run:
The curtain falls, the play is done.

T%

FANNY fair.

O Fanny fair could I impart
The cause of all my wo!

That beauty which has won my heart,
She fcarcely feems to know:
Unfkill'd in the art of womankind,
Without defign fhe charms;

How can thofe fparkling eyes be blind,
Which every bofom warms ?

She

H.

She knows her power is all deceit,
The confcious blushes fhows,
Those blushes to the eye more sweet
Than th' op'ning budding rose :
Yet the delicious fragrant rofe,
That charms the fenfe fo much,
Upon a thorny brier grows,
And wounds with ev'ry touch.

III.

At firft when I beheld the fair,
With raptures I was blest;

But as I would approach more near,
At once I loft my reft;

Th' inchanting fight, the fweet furprise,
Prepare me for my doom;

One cruel look from those bright eyes
Will lay me in .my tomb.

IV.

Here's the chief of all joy,
Here's a mistress ne'er coy;
Dear cure of all forrows,
And life of all blifs:
I'm a king when I hug you,
But more when I kifs.

A

Tippling JOHN.

I.

S tippling John was jogging on,
Upon a riot-night,

With tottering pace, and fiery face,
Sufpicious of high flight;

The guards, who took him, by his look,
For fome chief fiery-brand,

Afk'd, whence he came ? what was his name?
Who are you? Stand, friend, ftand.

I'm going home, from meeting come:
Ay, fays one, that's the cafe;

Some meeting he has burnt, you fee
The flame's ftill in his face.

John thought it time to purge his crime,
And faid, My chief intent

Was to affwage my thirfty rage,

I' th' meeting that I meant..

III.

Come, friend, be plain, you trife in vain,,

Says one, pray let us know,

That we may find how you're inclin'd;

Are you high church or low?

John said to that, I'll tell you what,

To end debates and ftrife,

All I can fay, this is the way.

1 fteer my course of life.

IV.

I ne'er to Bow, nor Burgess go,

To steeple-house nor hall,

The brisk bar-bell best suits my zeal

With gentlemen, d'ye call;

Guefs then, am I low church or high,
From that tow'r, or no steeple,
Whofe merry toll exalts the foul,
And must make high-flown people?

V.

The guards came on, and look'd at John
With countenance most pleasant,
By whifper round they all foon found
He was no damag'd peafant.

Thus while John ftood the best he cou'd,
Expecting their decifion;

Damn him, fays one, let him begone,
He's of our own religion.

BELINDA.

I.

W

Ould fate to me Belinda give,
With her alone I'd chufe to live,

Variety I'd ne'er require,

Nor a greater, nor a greater,

Nor a greater blifs defire.

H.

My charming nymph, if you can find
Amongst the race of human kind,

A man that loves you more than I,
I'll refign you, I'll refign you,
I'll refign you, tho' I die.

III.

Let my Belinda fill my arms,
With all her beauty, all her charms;
With fcorn and pity I'd look down
On the glories, on the glories,
On the glories of a crown

Beauty

THE

Beauty and Rigour.

I.

HE nymph that undoes me is fair and unkind No lefs than a wonder by nature defign'd; She's the grief of my heart, and the joy of my eye, And the cause of a flame that never can die.

And the caufe, &c.

II.

Her mouth, from whence wit ftill obligingly flows, Has the beautiful blufh, and the smell of the rofe: Love and deftiny both attend on her will,

She wounds with a look, with a frown she can kill.
She wounds, &c..

III.

The defperate lover can hope no redrefs,
Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excefs;
In Silvia they meet, fo unhappy am I,

Who fees her must love, who loves her muft die.
Who fees her, &c.