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That brutish fquire! but wherefore should I fear?
I ne'er can turn falfe-hearted to my dear.
No; when he came his laft farewel to take,
He bid me wear this token for his fake;
He fhall not prove me fickle and unkind;
Or fay, that-out of fight was out of mind.
Aufpicious fpirits guard my love,

In time of danger near him bide;
With outfpread wings around him move,
And turn each random ball afide.
And you his foes, though hearts of steel,
Oh, may you then with me accord;
A fympathetic paffion feel,

Behold his face, and drop the fword.
Ye winds, your bluft'ring fury leave;
Like airs that o'er the garden fweep;
Breathe foft in fighs, and gently heave,
The calm fmooth bofom of the deep.
Till halcyon peace return'd, once more,
From blafts fecure and hoftile harms,
My failor views his native fhore,

And harbours fafe in thefe fond arms.
Enter Squire.

Well met, pretty maid;
Nay, don't be afraid;

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I mean you no mischief, I vow:
Pha! what is't you ail?

Come, give me your pail,

And I'll carry it up to your cow.

Pray let it alone,

I've hands of my own,

Nor need your's to help me-forbear!
How can you perfift?

I won't, Sir, be kist,

Nor teaz'd thus-go trifle elsewhere.

In yon lonely grove

I faw an alcove,

All round the sweet violet springs;

And

Sal.

Sq.

And there was a thrush,

Hard by in a bush,

'Twould charm you to hear how he fings.

But hark! prithee, hark!
Look, yonder's a lark!
It warbles and pleases me fo,

To hear the foft tale

O' th' fweet nightingale
I wou'd not be tempted to go.

Then here we'll fit down:
Come, come, never frown!
No longer my bliss I'll retard;
Kind Venus fhall spread
Her veil over head,

And the little rogue Cupid keep guard.

Enter Thomas.

Tho. What's this I fee? May I believe my eyes?
A pirate juft about to board my prize!

Sal.

Sq.

'Tis well I this way chanc'd my course to steer. Sal, what's the matter?

-Thomas!

-'Sdeath, who's here?
Fellow be gone, or-

Tho. Learn your phrafe to mend:

Sq.

Tho.

Sal.

Do you fheer off, or elfe I'll make you, friend.
Let go the wench; I claim her for my fhare;
And now lay hands upon her-if you dare.
Saucy rafcal, this intrufion

:

You fhall answer to your coft Bully'd-fcandaliz'd-confufion! my fchemes and wishes croft..

All

Hark you, mafter, keep your distance;
'Sblood, take notice what I fay:
There's the channel, no resistance;
Tack about, and bear away.

Wou'd you wreft our freedom from us?-
Now my heart has loft its fear:
Oh, my beft, my dearest Thomas !
Sure fome angel brought you here.

X 2

Sq.

Sq.

Since her paltry inclination,

Stoops to fuch a thing as you;
Thus I make a recantation;

Wretched, foolish girl, adieu!

[Exit.

Sal. Oh, welcome, welcome! How fhall I impart
The joy this happy meeting gives my heart?
Now, Tom, in fafety ftay at home with me,
And never truft again that treach❜rous fea.
Tho. Excufe me, Sal; while mighty George has foes,
On land, and main, their malice I'll oppofe.
But hang this talking, my defires are keen;
You fee yon fteeple, and know what I mean.
Let fops pretend in flames to melt,
And talk of pangs they never felt ;
I fpeak without difguife or art,
And with my hand beftow my heart.

Sal.

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Let ladies prudifhly deny,

Look cold, and give their thoughts the lie;
I own the paffion in my breaft,

And long to make my lover bleft.

The. For this the failor, on the mast,
Endures the cold and cutting blast;

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All dripping wet, wears out the night,
And braves the fury of the fight.

Sal. For this the virgin pines and fighs,

With throbbing heart and streaming eyes;
Till fweet reverfe of joy fhe proves,
And clafps the faithful lad she loves.

Both. Ye British youths, be brave; you'll find
The British virgins will be kind:

Protect their beauty from alarms,
And they'll repay you with its charms.

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BY MR HENRY CAREY.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

ME N.

Chrononhotonihologos, King of Queerumania.

Bombardinion, his General.

Aldiborontiphofcophornio.

Rigdum-Funnidos.

Captain of the Guards.

Cupid.

Signior Scacciatinello.

Doctor, Cook, Dumb Mafter of the Ceremonies.

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O-night our comic muse the buskin wears,
And gives herself no small romantic airs;

Struts in heroics, and in pompous verse
Does the minutest incidents rehearse;
In ridicule's strict retrospect displays

The poetafters of thefe modern days.

When the big-bellowing bombaft rends our ears,
Which, ftript of found, quite void of fense appears;
Or when the fiddle-faddle numbers flow,

Serenely dull, elaborately low:

Either extreme, when vain pretenders take,

The actor fuffers for the author's fake;

The quite-tir'd audience lofe whole hours, yet pay,
To go unpleas'd and unimprov'd away.
This being our fcheme, we hope you will excufe
The wild excurfion of the wanton mufe:

X. 3.

With

Without a frolic wears a mimic mask;
'And fets her felf fo whimsical a tafk;
'Tis meant to please; but if it should offend,
'T'is very short, and foon will have an end.

SCENE, An anti-chamber in the palace. Enter Rigdum-Funnidos and Aldiborontiphofcophornio.

A1

RIGDUM-FUNNIDOS.

LDIBORON TIPHOSCOPHORNIO!
Where left you Chrononhotonthologos?
Ald. Fatigu'd with the tremendous toils of war,
Within his tent, on downy couch fuccumbent,
Himfelf he unfatigues with gentle flumbers.
Lull'd by the cheerful trumpet's gladfome clangor,
The noife of drums, and thunder of artillery,
He fleeps fupine amidit the din of war:
And yet it is not definitely fleep;
Rather a kind of dofe, a waking flumber,
That sheds a ftupefaction o'er his senses:
For now he nods and fnores; anon he ftarts;
'Then nods and fnores again. If this be fleep,
Tell me, ye gods, what mortal man's awake!
What fays my friend to this?

Rig. Say! Ifay he fleeps dog-fleep: what a plague would you have me to fay?

Ald. O impious thought! O curst infinuation! As if great Chrononhotonthologos,

To animals deteftable and vile,

Had ought the least fimilitude!

Rig. My dear friend, you entirely misapprehend me: I did not call the king dog by craft; I was only going to tell you the foldiers had just received their pay, and are all as drunk as fo many fwabbers.

Ald. Give orders inftantly, that no more money Be iffued to the troops; mean time, my friend, Let all the baths be fill'd with feas of coffee,

To ftupify their fouls into fobriety.

Rig. 1 fancy you had better banish the futlers, and blow the geneva cafks to the devil.

Ald

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