Poor _Dido_ wept, but what of that? The Gods would have it so; _∆neas_ nothing did amiss, When he was forc'd to go: Cease Lovers, cease your Vows to keep, With your true Loves, but let 'em weep, 'Tis folly to be true; Let this comfort serve your turn, That tho' wretched _Dido's_ mourn, You'll daily Court anew. _False_ PHILLIS, _Set by Mr._ JAMES HART. [Music] Since _Phillis_ swears Inconstancy, Then I'll e'en do so too; I careless am as well as she, She values not her Vow. To sigh, to languish, and protest, Let feeble Fops approve; The Women's way I like the best, Enjoyment is their Love. When I my _Phillis_ do embrace, There's none can happier be; But when she's gone, the next fair Face, Is _Phillis_ then to me. I find her Absence cools Desire, As well as her Disdain; When Hope denys to feed my Fire, Despair shall ease my Pain. _A_ SONG. [Music] Blush not redder than the Morning, Though the Virgins give you Warning; Sigh not at the chance befel you, Though they smile, and dare not tell you; _Sigh not at_, &c. Maids like Turtles, love the Cooing, Bill and Murmur in their Wooing; Thus like you they start and tremble, And their troubled Joys dissemble: _Thus like you_, &c. Grasp the Pleasure while 'tis coming, Though your Beauty's now a blooming; Lest old time our Joys should sever, Ah! ah! they part, they part for ever: _Lest old time_, &c. _The Power of_ BEAUTY. [Music] In a Flowry Myrtle _Grove_, The solitary Scene of Love, On Beds of Vi'lets, all the Day, The Charming _Floriana_ lay; The little _Cupids_ hover'd in the Air, They peep'd and smil'd, and thought their Mother there. _Ph[oe]bus_ delay'd his Course a while, Charm'd with the spell of such a Smile, Whilst weary _Plough-men_ curs'd the stay, Of the too _Uxorious_ Day: The little _Cupids_ hover'd in the Air, They peep'd and smil'd, and thought their Mother there. But thus the _Nymph_ began to chide, "That Eye, you owe the World beside, You fix on me", then with a Frown She sent her drooping Lover down; With modest Blushes from the _Grove_ she fled, Painting the Evening with unusual Red. _The_ HUNT. [Music] Some in the Town go betimes to the _Downs_, To pursue the fearful Hare; Some in the Dark love to hunt in a _Park_, For to chace all the Deer that are there: Some love to see the Faulcon to flee, With a joyful rise against the Air; But all my delight is a Cunny in the Night, When she turns up her silver Hair. When she is beset, with a Bow, Gun, or Net, And finding no shelter for to cover her; She falls down flat, or in a Tuft does squat, 'Till she lets the Hunter get over her: With her breast she does butt, and she bubs up her Scut, When the Bullets fly close by her Ear; She strives not to escape, but she mumps like an Ape, And she turns up, _&c._