Love, the sweets of Love, are the Joys I most admire, Kind and active Fire, Of a fierce Desire, Indulge my Soul, compleat my Bliss; But th' affected coldness Of _CÊlia_ damps my boldness, I must bow, protest and Vow, And swear aloud, I wou'd be Proud, When she with equal Ardour longs to Kiss: Bring a Bowl, then bring a Jolly Bowl, I'll quench fond Love within it; With flowing Cups I'll raise my Soul, And here's to the happy Minute: For flush'd with brisk Wine, When she's panting and warm; And Nature unguarded lets loose her Mind, In the Amorous moment the Gipsie I'll find, Oblige her and take her by Storm. _A_ SONG _in the_ Farce _call'd the_ Younger _the_ Wiser: _Set by Mr._ DANIEL PURCELL. _Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE. [Music] How happy's he who weds a Wife, Well practis'd, well practis'd in the _London_ Life; Dull Country Brides a Sense may want, To hide the Favours which they grant. How happy's he who weds a Wife, We'll practis'd, well practis'd in the _London_ Life; But _London_ Wives Coquet by Rule, Discreetly please the Men they Fool. How happy's he who weds a Wife, Well practis'd, well practis'd in the _London_ Life. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ RAMONDON. _Sung at the_ Theatre. [Music] How Charming _Phillis_ is, how Fair, How Charming _Phillis_ is, how Fair, O that she were as willing, To ease my wounded Heart of Care, And make her Eyes less killing: To ease my wounded Heart of Care, And make her Eyes less killing, To ease my wounded Heart of Care, And make her Eyes less killing, To ease my wounded Heart of Care, And make her Eyes less killing: I sigh, I sigh, I languish now, And Love will not let me rest; I drive about the Park and Bow, Where'er I meet my Dearest. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ BERENCLOW. Why will _Clemene_, when I gaze, My ravish'd Eyes reprove; And chide 'em from the only Face, That they were made to Love: Was not I born to wear your Chain, I should delight to rove; From your cold Province of Disdain, To some warm Land of Love. But shou'd a gentle Nymph when try'd, To me prove well inclin'd; My destin'd Heart must yet reside, With you the most unkind; So destin'd Exiles as they roam, While kindly us'd elsewhere; Still languish after Native home, Tho' Death, Death is threatned there. FINIS. Transcriber's Note Publication Date: 1719/1720 Author Lifespan: 1653-1723 [from English Song-Books by Day and Murrie: