'Tis Wine alone that cheers the Soul, But Love and Women make us sad; I'm merry while I court the Bowl, Whilst he that Courts his Madam's mad. Then fill it up Boys to the brim, Since in it we refreshment find; Come here's a Bumper unto him, That courts good Wine, not Woman-kind. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FRANK. [Music] When crafty Fowlers would surprize, The harmonious Lark that soars on high It is by glancing in his Eyes, The Sun-shine Rays which draws him nigh: _It is by_, &c. Charm'd with Reflections from the Glase, He flies with eager hasty speed; Ceasing the Musick of his Lays, Into the Nets the Fowler spread. So when _Clemelia_ would obtain, The Prey her Fancy most desires; She spreads her Dress like Nets in vain, And all her Youthful gay attires. 'Till watching Opportunity, She throws an Amorous charming Glance, Then to her Net the Youth does flie, And lies entangled in a Trance. _A_ SONG. _Set by Dr._ BLOW. [Music] Boasting Fops who court the Fair, For the Fame of being lov'd; You who daily prating are Of the Hearts your Charms have mov'd, Still be vain in talk and dress, But while Shadows you pursue; Own that some who boast it less, May be blest as much as you. Love and Birding are Ally'd, Baits and Nets alike they have; The same Arts in both are try'd, The unwary to inslave; If in each you'd happy prove, Without Noise still watch your way; For in Birding and in Love, While we talk it flies away. _A_ SONG. Must Love, that Tyrant of the Breast, Have all our Songs, have all our Hours; Whilst he alone disturbs our Rest, And with his Cares our Hearts devours, And with his Cares our Hearts devours: No more let's blame ignoble Souls, Who doat on Arbitrary Powers; Since cruel Love our Wills controuls, Yet all the World, yet all the World the Toy adores. For shame let's break the feeble Bonds, And our old Liberty regain; Love against Reason seldom stands, Whenever that sways, its Power is vain: When Man the prize of Freedom knows, _Cupid_ is easily out-brav'd; The Bug-bear only conquers those, Who fondly seek to be enslav'd. _The Woman's Complaint to her Neighbour._ [Music] Good morrow Gossip _Joan_, Where have you been a Walking? I have for you at Home, A Budget full of Talking, Gossip _Joan_. My Sparrow's flown away, And will no more come to me; I've broke a Glass to Day, The Price will quite undo me, Gossip _Joan_. I've lost a _Harry_ Groat, Was left me by my Granny; I cannot find it out, I've search'd in every Cranny, Gossip _Joan_. My Goose has laid away, I know not what's the Reason; My Hen has hatch'd to Day, A Week before the Season, Gossip _Joan_.