_The Words by Mr._ Clossold, _Set by Mr._ John WILFORD. [Music] Nay pish, nay pish, nay pish Sir, what ails you; Lord! What is't you do? I ne'er met with one so uncivil as you; You may think as you please, but if Evil it be, I wou'd have you to know, you're mistaken in me. You Men now so rude, and so boistrous are grown, A Woman can't trust her self with you alone: I cannot but wonder what 'tis that shou'd move ye; If you do so again, I swear, I swear, I swear, I swear, I swear I won't love ye. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Motley. [Music] Draw _Cupid_ draw, and make fair _Sylvia_ know; The mighty Pain her suff'ring Swain does for her undergo; Convey this Dart into her Heart, and when she's set on Fire, Do thou return and let her burn, like me in chast desire; That by Experience she, may learn to pity me, Whene'er her Eyes do tyrannize o'er my Captivity: But when in Love we jointly move, and tenderly imbrace, Like Angels shine, and sweetly join to one another's Face. _A_ SONG; _The Words by a Person of a Quality. Set to Musick by Mr._ Robert Cary. [Music] Some brag of their _Chloris_, and some of their _Phillis_, Some cry up their _Caelia_, and bright _Amaryllis_: Thus Poets and Lovers their Mistresses dub, And Goddesses fram'd from the Wash-bowl and Tub; But away with these Fictions, and Counterfeit Folly: There's a thousand more Charms in the Name of my _Dolly_. I cannot describe you her Beauty and Wit, Like Manna to each she's a relishing Bit; She alone by Enjoyment, the more does prevail, And still with fresh Pleasures does hoist up your Sail: Nay, had you a Surfeit, but took of all others, One Look from my _Dolly_ your Stomach recovers. _The Mountebank_ SONG. _Sung by Dr._ LEVERIGO, _and his merry Andrew_ Pinkanello, _in_ Farewel to Folly. _Set by Mr._ LEVERIDGE. [Music: Here are People and Sports of all sizes and sorts, Coach'd Damsel with Squire, and Mob in the Mire, Tarpaulins, Trugmallions, Lords, Ladys, Sows, Babies, and Loobys in Scores. Some howling, some Bawling, some Leering, some Fleering, some Loving, some Shoving, with Legions of Furbelow'd Whores. To the Tavern, some go, and some to a Show, see Poppets for Moppets, Jack-puddings, for Cuddens, Rope Dancing, Mares Prancing, Boats flying, Quacks lying, Pick-pockets, pick Plackets, Beasts, Butchers, and Beaus. Fops prat'ling, Dies rat'ling, Rooks shaming, Puts Daming, Whores Painted, Mask's tainted, in Tallymans Furbelow'd Cloaths. The Mobs Joys would you know to yon Musick-house go, see Tailors, and Saylors, Whores Oily in Doily, hear Musick, makes you sick: Cows Skipping, Clowns tripping, some Joaking, some Smoaking, like Spiggit and Tap; short Measure, strange Pleasure thus Billing, and Swilling, some yearly, get fairly, for Fairings Pig, Pork, and a Clap.] _The Mountebank_ SONG. _Set and Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE, _in a New Play call'd_, Farewel to Folly. [Music: