On this rejoinder then I reft my cause;
Should all pay homage to Truth's facred laws,
Let us examine what would be the cafe:
Why, many a great man would be out of place.
O Wild. 'Twould many a virtuous character restore,
M Gr. But take a character from many more.
O Wild. Though on the fide of bad the balance fall,
Better to find few good, than fear for all.
M Gr. Strong are your reafons; yet, e'er I fubmit,
I mean to take the voices of the pit.
Is it your pleafures that we make a rule,
That ev'ry liar be proclaim'd a feol,
Fit fubjects for our author's ridicule?
The Theatre reprefents a rural fcene, with the Cunning Man's houfe on the fide of a hill.
Phoebe, (weeping, and wiping her eyes with her apron.)
LOST is all my peace of mind,
Since my Colin proves unkind:
Alas! he's gone for ever.
Ah, fince he has learn'd to rove,
Fain would I forget my love :
Ah me! ah me! vain is my endeavour.
He lov'd me once-thence flows my pain:
Who then is the has won my fwain ?
Some charming nymph ?-Ah, fimple fair!
And fear'ft thou not my ills to share?
Colin for me has ceas'd to burn;
Thou too, e'er long, may'st have thy turn-
But why for ever thus complain?
Since nought can cure my love,
And all augments my pain!
'Loft is all my peace of mind,
• Since my Colin proves unkind:
' Alas, he's gone for ever!
RECITATIVE.
< I fain would hate himnay, I ought:
Perhaps he loves me ftill-vain thought!
'Why, then, for ever from me fly,
'Whofe prefence once was all his joy?"
Here lives a Cunning Man, who well
Our future fortune can foretel.
Ab, there he is-of him I'll know
If love will always prove my foe.
Enter Cunning Man.
(Phoebe telling money, and hesitating as he approaches the Cunning Man, to whom he gives the money, which fhe bad been counting and folding in a paper during the prelude.)
Phabe. Will Colin ne'er be mine again?
Tell me if death must end my pain? C. Man. I read your heart, and his can tellPhoebe. O Heav'n
Your grief affuage-
-Well!
He always loves you :—
-What? what said ye!
C. Man. More artful, but lefs fair, the lady
C. Man. But you, I've faid, he always loves-
Phabe. And always flies!
-On me depend,
I foon the rover back will fend.
Colin is vain, and fond of dress,
And that has made him love you
An outrage, by my art I fwear,
His love hereafter shall repair.
A I R.
Had I heard each am'rous ditty
Breath'd by sparks about the town;
Ah, how many fpruce and witty.
Lovers there I might have won!.
Drefs'd as fine as any lady,
I fhould then each day have shone,
Bright and beautiful as May-day,
With rich lace and ribbands on..
Had I heard, &c.
But for love of this ungrateful,
I from ev'ry joy could part;
Rich attire to me were hateful,
If it robb'd him of my heart..
Had I heard, &c.
RECITATIVE.
His heart I'll foon restore;
Beware you never lofe it more;
But, firft, his paffion to increase,
Feign, feign, fair maid, to love him lefs..
AIR.
If uneafy, love increases;
If contented, found he fleeps:
She who with coquetry teazes,
Faft in chains her thepherd keeps.
RECITATIVE.
Refign'd to your advice alone
With Colin you must change your tone.
Though hard the tafk, I yet will feign
To imitate the fickle swain.
I'll teaze him and fret him,
And feem to forget him;
I'll try ev'ry art to recover my
Difguiling my forrow
The arts I will borrow
Of flirts and coquettes, whom at heart I disdain.
Be wife, howe'er you fright th' ingrate,
Nor him too clofely imitate.-
My art now fays he'll foon be here;
I'll call you when you may appear.
Tho' Colin told me all I know,
He wonders-I can conjure fo--
And both admire the magic spell,
By which I find out-what they tell'
Here comes the fwain-and now I'll try
To touch his heart with jealousy.
By love and your inftructions wife,
I now for Phoebe wealth despise.-
I pleas'd her once in habit plain,
What greater blifs can fin'ry gain?
Thou'rt now forgot, io long thou'ft rang'd..
Forgot! Oh heav'n! is Phoebe chang'd?
Did ever woman, young and fair,
For wrongs like hers, revenge forbear?
No, no, my Phoebe will ne'er deceive me,
She will ne'er forget her vows :
For other shepherd can fhe leave me ?
Can fhe be another's spouse ?
RECITATIVE.
No fhepherd's now to you preferr'd;
But 'tis a young and handsome lord.
Who told you fo?-
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