A Pox on such Fools! let the Scoundrels rail, Let 'em boast of their Liberty; They're no freer than we, for the World's a Jayl, And all Men Prisoners be. The Drunkard's confin'd to his Claret, The Miser to his Store; The Wit to his Muse and a Garret, And the Cully-Cit to his Whore. The Parson's confin'd to his Piggs, The Lawyer to Hatred and Strife; The Fidler to's Borees and Jiggs, And the Quack to his Glister-pipe. The Church-man's confin'd to be civil, The Quaker's a Prisoner too light; The Papist is bound by the Devil, And the Puritan's fetter'd with spite. Since old _Adam's_ race are all Prisoners like us, Let us merrily quaff and Sing; Z----s why shou'd we pine for Liberty thus, When we're each of's as free as a King. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL. [Music] _Phillis_, I can ne'er forgive it, Nor I think, shall e're out-live it; Thus to treat me so severely, Who have always lov'd sincerely. _Damon_, you so fondly cherish, Whilst poor I, alass! may perish; I that love, which he did never, Me you slight, and him you Favour. Love given over: _Being a young Lady's Reply to her Parents, who would have forc'd her to Marry one she had an Aversion against._ [Music] As Cupid many Ages past, Went out to take the Air; And on the Rosy Morning Feast, He met _Ophelia_ there. A while he gaz'd, a while survey'd Her Shape and every part; But as his Eyes run o'er the Maid, Hers reach'd his little Heart. His Quiver straight and Bow he took, And bent it for a flight; And then by chance she cast a look, Which spoil'd his purpose quite. Disarm'd he knew not what to do, Nor how to Crown his Love; At last resolv'd, away he flew, Another shape to prove. A lustful Satyr straight return'd, In hopes his Form wou'd take: For many Nymphs for them have burn'd, Burn'd 'cause they could not speak. _Ophelia_ had no sooner spy'd, His Godship, Goat and Man; But loudly for assistance cry'd, And fleetly homeward ran. Perplex'd at her affright, but more At's own defeat, he shook The Monster off; then fled before, And straight Man's Aspect took. He smil'd, intreated, ly'd, and vow'd, Nay, offer'd her a Sum; And grew importunate and rude, As she drew nearer home. At last when Tears, nor ought cou'd move, He thus bespoke the Fair; Know Cruel Maid, I'm God of Love, And can command Despair. Yet Dame to sue, oh! bless me then, As you regard your Ease; For I am King of Gods and Men, I give and banish Peace. Or be thou Love, or be thou Hate, Enrag'd _Ophelia_ swore; I'll never change my Virgin state, Nor ever see thee more. Exploded Love resisted so, In pity to Mankind; His Arrows broke, and burnt his Bow, And left his Name behind. _A_ SONG. [Music]