That can with much Difcretion be
Dear to her Husband, kind to thec,

Secretly.

In fuch a Miftrefs, there's the Blifs,
Ten Thoufand Joys wrapt in a Kifs;
And in th' Embraces of her Waist
A Million more of Pleafures tafte :
Who e'er would marry that could be
Bleft with fuch Opportunity?
Never me.

SONG CCXLIII. Singing charms, &c.
Inging charms the Bleft above;
Angels fing,, and Saints approve

S

All we below of Heav'n can know,
Is that they both fing and love.
Mira hath an Angel's Air;
Sweet her Notes, her Face as fair
Vaffals and Kings

Feel when the fings

Charms of warbling Beauty near
Savage Nature conquer'd lyes,
All is Wonder and Surprize;
Souls expiring,

Hearts a firing

By her charming Notes and Eye,
Let the Viol and the Harp
Hang and moulder till they warp;
Let Flute and Lyre

In Duft expire,

Shatter'd by a Vocal Sharp.'

SONG CCXLIV. Pretty Armida, &

Retty Armida will be kind,

When at her Feet you proftrate lye 3

No cruel Look was c'er defign'd,

To dwell within her charming Eye:
Gaze on her Face, and every Part
That is exposed to your View ;

You'll prefently conclude her Heart
To be fo foft, 'twill yield to you.
But first 'tis fit you try your Skill,
You may not think that without Pain,
And fome Attendance on her Will,
So rich a Prize you shall obtain:
Wooers, like Angling-men, muft wait
Women's Time, and give them play,
Till she has swallow'd well the Bait,
Before the will become their Prey.
What tho' Armida's Looks be kind,
And you read Yielding in her Eyes;
Yet you alas! may quickly find,
Thofe Charms do nought but tantalize
Her Heart may not so easy be

As you imagine, but may prove
As hard as Adamant to thee,

And Proof against the Darts of Love
Your Skill, and all the Art you have,
Make Trial of, Sir, if you please
Tell her, you are her captive Slave,
And beg of her Relief and Eafe:
But fhe'll not hear you, for the fpies,
That underneath your gilded Bait
A crafty Hook inclofed lies,

So from your Angle she'll retreat.

SONG CCXLV. Man, (Man, &e.

AN, (Man, Man) is for the Womas made,

MAN

And the Woman made for Man,

As the Spur is for the Jade,
As the Scabbard for the Blade,
As for Digging is the Spade,

As for Liquor is the Can,

So Man, (Man, Man) is for the Woman made,

And the Woman made for Man.

As the Scepter's to be fway'd
As for Night's the Serenade,

As for Pudding is the Pan,

And to cool us is the Fan,

So Man, (Man, Man) is for the Woman made,
And the Woman made for Man.

Be the Widow, Wife, or Maid,
Be the wanton, be the ftay'd,
Be the well, or ill array'd,
Whore, Bawd, or Harridan,

Yet Man, (Man, Man) is for the

made,

And the Woman made for Man.

oman

SONG CCXLVI. Take not, &c.

T

Ake not a Woman's Anger ill,

But let this be your Comfort ftill,

This be your Comfort ftill,

That if one won't another will:
Tho' fhe that's foolish does deny,
She, the that is wifer will comply,
And if 'tis but a Woman what care I,
What care I, what care I,

If 'tis but a Woman what care I.

Then who'd be damn'd, to fwear untrue,

And figh, and weep, and whine, and wooe,
As all our fimple Coxcombs de ?

All Women love it, and tho' this

Does fullenly forbid the Blifs,

Try but the next, you cannot miss.

SONG CCXLVII. Since there's, &c.

Ince there's fo fmall Diff'rence 'twixt Drown

Sing and Drinking,

We'll tipple and pray too, like Mariners fink

ing;

Whilft they drink Salt-Water, we'll pledge 'em in Wine,

And pay our Devotion at Bacchus's Shrine:
Ob! Bacchus, great Bacchus, for ever defend us
And plentiful Store of good Burgundy Send us.

From cens'ring the State, and what paffes above,From a Surfeit of Cabbage, from Law-fuits and Love;

From meddling with Swords, and fuch dangerous Things,

And handling of Guns in Defiance of Kings: Ob! Bacchus, &c.

From riding a Jade that will start at a Feather, Or ending a Journey with Lofs of much Leather, From the Folly of dying for Grief or Defpair, With our Heads in the Water, or Heels in the

Air:

From a Ufurer's Gripe, and from every Man, That boldly pretends to do more than he can; From the Scolding of Woman, and Bite of mad Dogs,

And wandering over wild Irish Bogs:

Oh! Bacchus, &c.

From Hunger and Thirst, empty Bottles and
Glaffes,

From those whofe Religion confifts in Grimaces;
From e'er being cheated by Female Decoys,
From humouring old Men, and reasoning with
Boys:

Ob! Bacchus, &c.

From thofe little troublesome Infects and Flies, That think themfelves pretty, or witty, or wife;

From carrying a Quartan for Mortification,
As long as a Ratisbon Confultation:
Ob! Bacchus, &c.'

SONG CCXLVIII. Sin Eglamore.

SIR

IR Eglamore, that valiant Knight,
Fa la, lanky down dilly;

He took up his Sword, and he went to fight,
Fa la, lanky down dilly:

And as he rode o'er Hill and Dale,
All arm'd with a Coat of Mail,

Fa la la, la la la, lanky down dilly
There leap'd a Dragon out of her Den,
That had flain God knows how many Men;
But when the faw Sir Eglamore,

Oh that you had but heard her roar !
Then the Trees began to shake,

Horfe did tremble, Man did quake;
The Birds betook them all to Peeping,
Oh! twould have made one fall a weeping.

But all in vain it was to fear,

For now they fall to't, fight Dog, fight Bear;
And to't they go, and foundly fight,

A live-long Day, from Morn to Night.
The Dragon had on a plaguy Hide,
That could the fharpeft Steel abide:
No Sword could enter her with Cuts,
Which

But'd the Knight unto the Guts.

in Choler he did burn,

He watched the Dragon a great good Turn;
For as a Yawning fhe did fall,

He thruft his Sword up Hilt and all.
Then like a Coward fhe did fly
Unto her Den, which was hard by;
And there lay all Night and roar'd,
The Knight was forry for his Sword:
But riding away, he cries, I forfake it,
He that will fetch it, let him take it.

SONG CCXLIX. Go tell, &c.
O tell Amintor, gentle Swain,

Go

I would not die, nor dare complain ;
Thy tuneful Voice with Numbers join,
Thy Voice will more prevail than mine:
For Souls opprefs'd and drown'd with Grief,
The Gods ordain'd this kind Relief:
That Mufick fhould in Sounds convey
What dying Lovers dare not say,