Billet deux like small Shot did so ply her, Billet deux like small Shot did so ply her; And sometimes a Song, Went whistling along, Yet still I was never the nigher. At length she sent Word by a Trumpet, At length she sent Word by a Trumpet, That if I lik'd the Life, She would be my Wife, But she would be no Man's Strumpet. I told her that _Mars_ wou'd ne'er Marry, I told her that _Mars_ wou'd ne'er Marry; I swore by my Scars, Got in Combates and Wars, That I'd rather dig Stones in a Quarry. At length she granted the Favour, At length she granted the Favour; With the dull Curse, For better for worse, And saved the Parson the Labour. _A_ SONG. _Set by Seignor_ BAPTIST. [Music] Why alas do you now leave me, You who vow'd a Love so true; Can you hope whilst you deceive me, Others will be just to you? Oh you know what you forsake, You're pursuing, My undoing, But you know not what you take. Is your fit of Passion over, Will you Kill me dear unkind; Is your Heart then such a Rover, As no Vows, no Oaths can bind: Hear at least my last adieu, See me lying, See me dying, And remember 'tis for you. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ AKEROYDE. [Music] When Beauty such as yours has mov'd desires, A kind return, a kind return, Should raise the glowing Fires; But tho' you hate me, I am still Devoted wholly to your Will: Not all your Frowns can quench my Flame, My Love is something more than Name, And as it ought, will ever, ever be the same. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FRANK. [Music] See bleeding at your Feet there lies, One murder'd by Disdain; That Heart you wounded with your Eyes, Is by your Rigour slain: Expiring now I cannot live, Death no delay will brook, Unless some pitying word you give, Or kind relenting Look, Or kind relenting Look. For then from Fate by Rapture born, And taken from your Arms; The Heart thus rescued from your Scorn, I'll offer to your Charms: Love's eager Rites, I'll then pursue, And Sacrificing dye; Altar and Beauteous Goddess you, And Priest, and Victim I. _The good Fellow's Resolve_: _Tune_ as _May_ was in her youthful Dress. _Vol._ 3. _P._ 199. Now I'm resolv'd to Love no more, But Sleep by Night, and Drink by Day; Your Coyness _Chloris_ pray give o'er, And turn your tempting Eyes away: I'll place no happiness of mine, On fading Beauty still to court; And say she's glorious and divine, When there's in Drinking better sport. Love has no more Prerogative, To make me desperate Courses take; Nor me of _Bacchus_ Joys deprive, For them I _Venus_ will forsake: Despise the feeble Nets she lays, And scorn the Man she can o'ercome; In Drinking we see happy Days, But in a fruitless Passion none.