Z----ds Madam return me my Heart, Or by the Lord _Harry_ I'll make ye; Tho' you sleep when I talk of my smart, As I hope to be Knighted I'll wake ye; If you rant, why by _Jove_, Then I'll rant as well as you; There's no body cares for your puffing, You're mistaken in me; Nay prithee, prithee, prithee pish, We'll try who's the best at a huffing. But if you will your Heart surrender, And confess yourself uncivil; 'Tis probable I may grow tender, And recal what I purpos'd of evil, But if you persist in rigour, 'Tis a thousand to one but I teeze you; For you'll find so much heat and such vigour, As may trouble you forsooth or please you. _A_ SONG _in the Comedy call'd_ The Maid's last Prayer: _Or_, Any thing rather than fail. [Music] Tho' you make no return to my Passion, Still, still I presume to adore; 'Tis in Love but an odd Reputation, When faintly repuls'd to give o'er: When you talk of your duty, I gaze at your Beauty; Nor mind the dull Maxim at all, Let it reign in _Cheapside_, With the Citizens Bride: It will ne'er be receiv'd, it will ne'er, ne'er, it will ne'er be receiv'd at _White-hall_. What Apochryphal Tales are you told, By one who wou'd make you believe; That because of _to have_ and _to hold_, You still must be pinn'd to his Sleeve: 'Twere apparent high-Treason, 'Gainst Love and 'gainst Reason, Shou'd one such a Treasure engross; He who knows not the Joys, That attend such a choice, Shou'd resign to another that does. _The Cruel Fair requited, Written by_ J. R. _Set by Mr._ JAMES HART. [Music] When Wit and Beauty meet in one, That acts an Amorous part; What Nymph its mighty Power can shun, Or 'scape a wounded Heart: Those Potent, wondrous Potent charms, Where-e'er they bless a Swain; He needs not sleep with empty Arms, He needs not sleep with empty Arms, Nor dread severe disdain. _Astrea_ saw the Shepherds bleed, Regardless of their Pain; Unmov'd she hear'd their Oaten Reed, They Dance and Sung in vain; At length _Amintor_ did appear, That Miracle of Man; He pleas'd her Eyes and charm'd her Ear, He pleas'd her Eyes and charm'd her Ear, She Lov'd and call'd him PAN. But he as tho' design'd by Fate, Revenger of the harms, Which others suffer'd from her hate, Rifl'd and left her Charms; Then Nymphs no longer keep in pain, A plain well-meaning Heart; Lest you shou'd joyn for such disdain, Lest you shou'd joyn for such disdain, In poor _Astrea's_ smart. _A_ SONG, _Sung at the_ THEATRE-ROYAL, _in the Play call'd_ ALPHONSO _King of_ NAPLES. _Set by Mr._ EAGLES. [Music] When _Sylvia_ was kind, and Love play'd in her Eyes, We thought it no Morning till _Sylvia_ did rise; Of _Sylvia_ the Hills and the Vallies all Rang, For she was the Subject of every Song.