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Fat. A fad time, when a lady must call in help to divert her gallant?-but I'm at your ferviceEnter Cymon, melancholy.


Cym. Heigho!

Fat. What's the matter, young gentleman?
Cym. Heighe!

Ürg. Are you not well, Cymon?
Cym. Yes I am very well.
Urg. Why do you figh then?
Cym. Eh!

[Looks foolishly. Fat. Do you fee it in his eyes, now, Madam? Urg. Prithee, be quiet-What is it you want? tell me, Cymon-Tell me your wishes, and you fhall have


Cym. Shall I?

Urg. Yes, indeed, Cymon.

Fat. Now for it.

Cym. I wish-heigho!

Ürg. These fighs must mean fomething.

[Afide to Fatima.

Fat. I wish you joy then; find it out, Madam.
Urg. What do you figh for?
Cym. I want-

Urg. What, what, my sweet creature?
Cym. To go away.

Fat. O la!-the meaning's out.
Urg. What, would you leave me then?
Cym. Yes.

[Sighs. [Eagerly.

Urg. Why would you leave me?
Cym. I don't know.

Urg. Where would you go?

Cym. Any where.

Urg. Had you rather go any where than stay with


Cym. I had rather go into the fields than ftay with any body.

Urg. But is not this garden pleasanter than the fields, my palace than cottages, and my company more agree. able to you than the shepherds?

Cym. Why, how can I tell till I try; you won't let me choose.





You gave me laft week a young linnet,
Shut up in a fine golden cage;
Yet how fad the poor thing was within it,
Oh how did it flutter and rage!
Then he mop'd and he pin'd
That his wings were confin'd,
Till I open'd the door of his den:
Then fo merry was he,
And because he was free,
He came to his cage back again.

And fo fhould I too, if you would let me go. Urg. And would you return to me again? Cym. Yes I would I have nowhere elfe to go. Fat. Let him have his humour-when he is not confin'd, and is feemingly difregarded, you may have him, and mould him as you please-'Tis a receipt for the whole fex.

Urg. I'll follow your adviceWell, Cymon, you hall go wherever you please, and for as long as you please.

Cym. O la, and I'll bring you a bird's neft, and fome cowlips-and fhall I let my linnet out too?

Fat. O, ay, pretty creatures; pray, let 'em go toge. ther.

Urg. And take this, Cymon; wear it for my fake, and don't forget me. (Gives Cymon a nofegay.) Tho' it won't give paffion, it will increase it if he should think kindly of me, and abfence may befriend me. (Afide.) Go, Cymon, take your companion, and be happier than I can make you.

Cym. Then I'm out of my cage, and fhall mope no lon[Overjoyed.


Urg. His tranfports distract me!-I must retire to conceal my uneafinefs.


Fat. And I'll open the gate to the prifoners. [Exit. Cym. And I'll fetch my bird, and we'll fly away toge


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A I R.

Oh liberty, liberty!
Dear happy liberty;


Nothing's like thee!
So merry are we,
My linnet and I,
From prifon we're free,
Away we will fly,
To liberty, liberty.
Dear happy liberty,
Nothing's like thee!

SCENE, A rural Prospect.

Enter tavo Shepherdeffes.

1 Shep. What, to be left and forfaken! and fee the falfe fellow make the fame vows to another, almost before my face! I can't bear it, and I won't?

2 Shep. Why, look ye, fifter, I am as little inclined to bear these things as yourfelf; and if my fwain had been faithlefs too, I should have been vex'd at it, to be fure; but how can you help yourfelf?

1 Shep. I have not thought of that; I only feel I can't bear it; and as to the won't, I must trust in a little mifchief of my own to bring it about O that I had the power of our enchantrefs yonder! I wou'd play the devil with them all.

2 Shep. Why are you fo angry, my dear filter?-Will your quarrelling with her bring back your fweetheart?

Shep. No matter for that-when the heart is overloaded, any vent is a relief to it; and that of the tongue is always the readiest and most natural-So if you won't help me to find her, you may ftay where you will. Lin. (Singing without.) "Care flies from the lad that "is merry."

2 Shep. Here comes the merry Linco, who never knew care or felt forrow. If you can bear his laughing at your griefs, or finging away his own, you may get fome information from him.

Enter Linco finging.

Lin. What, my girls of ten thoufand! I was this moment defying love and all his mischief, and you are fent in the nick by him to try my courage; but I'm above temptation, or below it-I duck down, and all his ar rows fly over me.

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Care flies from the lad that is merry,
Whofe heart is as found,

And cheeks are as round,

As round and as red as a cherry.

Shep. What, are you always thus!


Lin. Ay, or heav'n help me! What, would you have me do as you do walking with your arms across, thus heighho'ing by the brook-fide among the willows? Oh! fie for fhame, laffes! young and handfome, and fighing after one fellow a-piece, when you fhould have a handred in a drove, following you like-like-you shall have the fimile another time.

2 Shep. No; prithee, Linco, give it us now.

Lin. You fhall have it-or, what's better, I'll tell you what you are not like-you are not like our fhepherdefs Sylvia-She's fo cold and so coy, that she flies from her lovers, but is never without a score of them; you are always running after the fellows, and yet are always alone; a very great difference, let me tell youfroft and fire, that's all.

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2 Shep. Don't imagine that I am in the pining condi tion my poor fifter is I am as happy as the is mifer


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Lin. Good lack, I'm forry for❜t.

2 Shep. What, forry that I am happy?

Lin. O! no, prodigious glad.

1 Shep. That I am miferable:

Lin. No, no;-prodigious forry for that-and prodi gious glad of the other.

1 Shep. Be my friend, Linco; and I'll confefs my folly to you

Lin. Don't trouble yourself-'tis plain enough to be feen-but I'll give you a receipt for it without fee or reward-there's friendship for you.

1 Shep. Prithee, be ferious a little.

Lin. No; heav'n forbid! If I am ferious, 'tis all over with me-I should foon change my rofes for your lilies.

2 Shep. Don't be impudent, Linco-but give us your receipt.

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For with fal, la, la, la!
And ha, ha, ha, ha!
It can never reach me,
My fkin is fo tough,
Or fo blinking as he,
He can't pierce my buff,
Or he miffes poor me.
For with fal, la, la, la!
And ha, ha, ha, ha!
He miffes poor me.
O never be dull
By the fad willow tree:
Of mirth be brimful,
And run over like me.,
For with fal, la, la, la!
And ha, ha, ha, ha!
Run over like me.

1 Shep. It won't do. • Lin. Then

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you are far

gone, indeed.

1 Shep. And as I can't cure my love, I'll revenge it. Lin. But how, how, fhepherdefs?

-for you'll give your

Shep. I'll tear Sylvia's eyes out. • Lin. That's your only way. ← nails a feast, and prevent mischief for the future-Oh! tear her eyes out by all means.

2 Shep. How can you laugh, Linco, at my fifter in her condition?

Lin. I must laugh at fomething; fhall I be merry • with you?

2 Shep. Shepherd, the happy can bear to be laugh'd


Lin. Then Sylvia might take your fhepherd without a figh, though your fifter would tear her eyes out. 2 Shep. My Shepherd! what does the fool mean? Shep. Her fhepherd! pray tell us, Linco. [Eagerly. Lin. 'Tis no fecret I fuppofe-1 only met Damon and Sylvia together.

Hh. 3,

• 2 Shep..

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