Oh! said you, when She deceives me, When that Constant Creatures leave me; _Isis_ Waters back shall fly, And leave their _Ouzy_ Channels dry: Turn your Waters, leave your Shore, For perjur'd _Caelia_ loves no more. _A_ SONG _in the Comedy call'd the_ BITER, _Set by Mr._ John Eccles, _and Sung by Mr._ Cook. [Music] _Chloe_ blush'd and frown'd and swore, And push'd me rudely from her; I call'd her Faithless, Jilting Whore, To talk to me of Honour: But when I rose and wou'd be gone, She cry'd nay, whither go ye? Young _Damon_ saw, now we're alone, Do, do, do what you will, do what you will with _Chloe_: Do what you will, what you will, what you will with _Chloe_, Do what you will, what you will, what you will with _Chloe_. _A_ SONG _in_ Rinaldo _and_ Armida: _Set by Mr._ John Eccles. _Sung by Mr._ Gouge. [Music] The Jolly, Jolly Breeze, That comes whistling through the Trees; From all the blissful Regions brings, Perfumes upon its spicy Wings: With its wanton motion curling, Curling, curling, curling the crystal Rills, Which down, down, down, down the Hills, Run, run, run, run, run o'er Golden gravel purling. _A_ SONG _on the_ Punch Bowl. _To the foregoing Tune._ The Jolly, Jolly Bowl, That does quench my thirsty Soul; When all the mingling Juice is thrown, Perfum'd with fragrant Goar Stone: With it's wanton Toast too, curling, Curling, curling, curling, curling the Nut-brown Riles, Which down, down, down, down by the Gills, Run through ruby Swallows purling. _The_ PROLOGUE _in the_ Island-Princess, _Set and Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE. [Music] You've been with dull Prologues here banter'd so long, They signify nothing, or less than a Song; To sing you a Ballad this Tune we thought fit, For Sound has oft nickt you, when Sence could not hit: Then Ladies be kind, and Gentlemen mind, Wit Capers, play Sharpers, loud Bullies, tame Cullies, Sow grumblers, Wench Fumblers give ear ev'ry Man: Mobb'd Sinners in Pinners, kept Foppers, Bench-hoppers, High-Flyers, Pit-Plyers, be still if you can: You're all in Damnation, you're all in Damnation for Leading the Van. Ye Side-Box Gallants, whom the vulgar call Beaus, Admirers of Self, and nice Judges of Cloaths; Who now the War's over cross boldly the Main, Yet ne'er were at Seiges, unless at Campaign: Spare all on the Stage, Love in every Age, Young Tattles, Wild Rattles, Fan-Tearers, Mask-Fleerers, Old Coasters, Love boasters, who set up for Truth: Young Graces, Black Faces, some Faded, some Jaded, Old Mothers, and others, who've yet a Colt's Tooth: See us Act that in Winter, you'd all Act in Youth.