If _Chloe_ Loves, and Constant proves, Oh! happy, happy then am I; But if that she unconstant be, And do's delight to rove: As sure as Gun, I am undone, And shan't have power to move. _Fashionable_ Shepherdess, _Set by Mr._ Ramondon. [Music] At the break of morning light, When the marbled Sky look gay; Nature self all perfect bright, Smil'd to see the God of Day: Charming prospect, verdant Trees, Azure Hill, enamell'd Sky; Birds with warbling Throats to please, Striving each which shall outvey. _Lisbea_ then with wond'rous hast, O'er a green sword Plain she flew; Thus my Angel as she past, The Eyes of ev'ry Shepherd drew: When they had the Nymph espyed, All amazed cry'd there she goes; Thus by blooming Beauty tryed, Thought a second Sun arose. Ev'ry Swain the Sun mistook. Dazled by refulgent Charms; And with Joy their Flocks forsook, For to follow Love's Alarms: All 'till now were perfect Friends, Bound by Innocence and Truth; 'Till sly Love to gain his ends, Made a difference 'twixt each Youth. Each expected which should be, Made the happy Man by Love; While for want of Liberty, None could truly happy prove: But at length they all arriv'd, To a charming easie Grove; Where the Nymph had well contriv'd, To be happy with her Love. There in amorous folding twin'd, _Strephon_ with his _Lisbea_ lay; Both to mutual Joys enclin'd, Let their Inclinations stray: As the curling Vines embracing, Fondly of the Oak around; So the blooming Nymphs caressing, Of her Swain with pleasure crown'd. How surpriz'd were ev'ry Swain, When they found the Nymph engaged; Disappointment heighten'd Pain, 'Till it made them more enraged: Arm your self with Resolution, Cry'd the most revengeful he; We'll contrive her Swains Confusion, Let him fall as much as we. Several Punishments they Invented, For to Torture helpless he; All revengeful, ne'er contented, Cruel to a vast Degree: One more envious in the rear, Thus his Sentiments let slip; Make him like the Cavalier, And for the _Opera_ him Equip. _A_ Scotch SONG _in the Play call'd_ Love at first Sight: _Set by the late Mr._ JER. CLARK. [Music] The Rosey Morn lukes blith and Gay, The Lads and Lasses on the Plain; Her bonny, bonny sports pass o'er the Day, And leave poor _Jenny_ tol complain: My _Sawndy's_ grown a faithless Loon, And given, given _Moggy_ that wild Heart; Which eance he swore was aw my own, But now weese me I've scarce a part. Gang thy gate then perjur'd _Sawndy_, Ise nea mere will Mon believe; Wou'd Ise nere had trusted any, They faw Thieves will aw deceive: But gin ere Ise get mere Lovers, Ise Dissemble as they do; For since Lads are grown like Rovers, Pray why may na Lasses too. _The_ Restauration: _Or the_ Coventry SONG. 1710. [Music]