Cease on her lovely Looks to gaze, Nor court your Ruin in her Eyes; Her Looks too 's dangerous as her Face, At once engages and Destroys: Speak not if you'd avoid your Fate, For then she darts Resentment home; But fly, fly _Damon_ e'er too late, Or else be Deaf, be Blind, be Dumb.

MERCURY _to_ PARIS, _in the Prize Musick, Compos'd by Mr._ John Eccles.

[Music]

Fear not Mortal, none shall harm thee, With this Sacred Rod I'll Charm thee; Freely gaze, and view all over, Thou mayst every Grace discover: Though a thousand Darts fly round thee, Fear not Mortal, none can Wound thee; _Though a thousand Darts fly round thee,_ _Fear not Mortal, none can Wound thee._

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ W. Morley.

[Music]

Born to surprize the World, Born to surprize the World, and teach the Great, The slippery Danger of exalted State; Victorious _Marlborough_, Victorious _Marlborough_, to Battle flies, Arm'd, Arm'd with new Lightning from bright _Anna's_ Eyes: Wonders, Wonders like these no former Age has seen, The Subjects Heroes, the Subjects Heroes, and a Saint the Queen.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ J. ISUM.

[Music]

In vain, in vain, in vain, in vain, in vain, In vain the G.o.d I ask, He'll ne'er remove the Dart; And still I love the pretty, pretty Boy, Altho', altho' he wound my Heart: Henceforth I'll be contented then, No more will I desire; No, no, no more, no, no, no more will I desire, To slight her whom I love so much, That but creates the Fire: Well might I expect the Fate, As well as any other; Since he ne'er spares the G.o.ds themselves, Nor does he spare his Mother.

_An Amorous_ SONG. _To the Tune of_, The bonny Christ-Church Bells.

[Music]

See how fair and fine she lies, Upon her Bridal Bed; No Lady at the Court, So fit for the Sport, Oh she look'd so curiously White and Red: After the first and second time, The weary Bridegroom slacks his Pace; But Oh! she cries, come, come my Joy, And cling thy Cheek close to my Face: Tinkle, tinkle, goes the Bell under the Bed, Whilst Time and Touch they keep; Then with a Kiss, They end their Bliss, And so fall fast asleep.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ J. ISUM.

[Music]

_Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you, _Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you, Where's the harm in saying so?

_Corinna_ if my Fate's to love you, Where's the harm in saying so?

Why shou'd my Sighs, why shou'd my Sighs, Why shou'd my Sighs and Fondness move you?

To encrease, to encrease your Shepherd's Woe: Flame pent in still burns and scorches, 'Till it burns a Lover's Heart: Love declar'd like lighted Torches, Wastes it self and gives less Pain: Love declar'd like lighted Torches, Wastes it self, wastes it self, Wastes it self, and gives less Smart.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ JOHN ISUM.

[Music]

_Caelia's_ Charms are past expressing, Were she kind as she is Fair; _Caelia's_ Charms are past expressing, Were she kind as she is Fair: Heav'ns cou'd grant no greater Blessing, Nor Earth a Nymph more worth our Care; Heav'ns cou'd grant no greater Blessing, Nor Earth a Nymph, nor Earth a Nymph more worth our Care.

But Unkindness, Unkindness mars her Beauty, And useless makes that Heav'nly, That Heav'nly, that Heav'nly frame; But Unkindness mars her Beauty, And useless makes that Heav'nly, Heav'nly frame: While she mistakes and calls that Duty, Which ill Nature others name: While she mistakes and calls that Duty, Which ill Nature others name.

_The Hopeful Bargain: Or a Fare for a Hackney-Coachman, giving a Comical relation, how an_ Ale-draper _at the Sign of the_ Double-tooth'd Rake _in or near the new_ Palace-yard, Westminster, _Sold his Wife for a Shilling, and how she was sold a Second time for five Shillings to_ JUDGE; _My Lord ---- Coachman, and how her Husband receiv'd her again after she had lain with other Folks three Days and Nights_, &c. _The Tune_ Lilly Bullero.

[Music]

There lives an Ale-draper near _New-palace-yard_, Who used to Jerk the b.u.m of his Wife; And she was forced to stand on her Guard, To keep his Clutches from her Quoiff: She poor Soul the weaker Vessel, To be reconcil'd was easily won; He held her in scorn, But she Crown'd him with Horn, _Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run._

He for a Shilling sold his Spouse, And she was very willing to go; And left the poor Cuckold alone in the House, That he by himself his Horn might blow: A Hackney Coachman he did buy her, And was not this a very good Fun; With a dirty Pinner, As I am a Sinner, _Without Hood or Scarff, but rough as she run._

The Woman gladly did depart, Between three Men was handed away; He for her Husband did care not a Fart, He kept her one whole Night and Day: Then honest _Judge_ the Coachman bought her, And was not this most cunningly done?

Gave for her five Shilling, To take her was willing, _Without Hood or Scarff_, &c.

The Cuckold to _Judge_, a Letter did send, Wherein he did most humbly crave; Quoth he, I prithee, my Rival Friend, My Spouse again I fain would have: And if you will but let me have her, I'll pardon what she e'er has done; I swear by my Maker, Again I will take her, _Without Hood and Scarff_, &c.

He sent an old Baud to interceed, And to perswade her to come back; That he might have one of her delicate breed, And he would give her a ha'p'uth of Sack: Therefore prithee now come to me, Or else poor I shall be undone: Then do not forgo me, But prithee come to me, _Without Hood or Scarff, tho' rough_, &c.

The Coachman then with much ado, Did suffer the Baud to take her out; Upon the Condition that she would be true, And let him have now and then a Bout: But he took from her forty Shillings, And gave her a parting Gla.s.s at the _Sun_; And then with good buyt' ye, Discharged his Duty, _And turn'd her a grazing, rough as she run._

The Cuckold invited the Coachman to dine, And gave him a Treat at his own Expence; They drown'd all Cares in full brimmers of Wine, He made him as welcome as any Prince: There was all the Hungregation, Which from _Cuckolds-Point_ was come; They kissed and fumbled, They touzed and tumbled, _He was glad to take her rough as she run._

_Judge_ does enjoy her where he list, He values not the old Cuckold's Pouts; And she is as good for the Game as e'er pist, Fudge on his Horns sits drying of Clouts: She rants and revels when she pleases, And to end as I begun, The Horned Wise-acre, Is forced to take her _Without Hood or Scarff, and rough as she run._

_The_ MAIDEN LOTTERY: _Containing 70 Thousand Tickets, at a Guinea each; the Prizes being Rich and Loving Husbands, from three Thousand to one Hundred a Year, which Lottery will begin to draw on next_ VALENTINE'S _Day._

_Then pretty La.s.ses venture now,_ _Kind_ Fortune _may her Smiles alow._