Covent Garden Drollery 2nd Ed. (1672)

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Below is the raw OCR of Covent Garden Drollery, or a Collection of All the Choice Songs, Poems, Prologues, and Epilogues (Sung and Spoken at Courts and Theaters) Written by the Refined'st Witts of the Age and Collected by A. B.  The Second Impression, with Additions. 

COVENT GARDEN
D R O L E R Y,
OR A
COLECTION,
Of all the Choice Songs, Poems,
Prologues, and Epilogues (Sung and
Spoken at Courts and Theaters)
Written by the refined'ft Witts of the Age.
And Collected by A. B.
The Second Impreffion, with Additions.
LONDON,
Printed for James Magues, neer the Piazza in
Ruff el-Street, 1672.

Covent Garden Drollery.                  I
 
PROLOGUE
Spoken by Mrs. Boutell to the Maiden
Queen, in mans Cloathes.
WOmen like us (passing for men) you'l cry,
Presume too much, upon your secresie.
There's not a Fop in Town, but will pretend,
To know the cheat himself, or by his friend,
Then make no words on't, Gallants, tis e'ne true,
We are condemn'd to look and &rut, like you.
Since we thus freely, our hard Fate confess,
Accept us, these bad times, in any dress.
You'l find the sweet on't; now old Pantaloons, \
Will go as far, as formerly, new Gowns ;             J-
And from your own ca£t Wigs, expedl no frowns. J
The Ladies we shall not so easily please ;
They'l say, what impudent bold things are these,
That dare provoke, yet cannot do us right,
Like men, with huffing looks, that dare not fight!
But this reproach, our courage mu£t not daunt \\
The bravest Souldier, may a Weapon want: \
Let her that doubts us Still, send her Gallant. J
B                            Ladies

2                  Covent Garden Drollery.
Ladies in us, you'l Youth and Beauty find,
All things but one, according to your mind :
And when your Eyes and Ears, are feasted here,
Rise up and make out the short Meal, elsewhere.
EPILOGUE
Spoken by Mrs. Reeves to the Maiden
Queeny in mans Cloathes.
WHat think you Sirs, was't not all well enough,
Will you not grant that we can £trut, and huff.
Men may be proud ; but faith, for ought I see,
They neither walk, nor cock, so well as we;
And, for the fighting part, we may in time,
Grow up to swagger, in heroick Rhyme.
For though we cannot boa£t of equal force,
Yet at some Weapon's, men have £lill the worse.
Why should not then, we Women Aft alone }\
Or whence are Men, so necessary grown,        I
Our's are so old, they are as good as none. J
Some who have tri'd 'em, if you'l take their Oaths,
Swear they're as arrant Tinsell, as their Cloaths.
Imagine us, but what we represent,
And we could e'ne give you as good content.
Our faces, shapes, all's better that you see,
And for the reft, they want as much as we.
Oh

Covent Garden Drollery.
3
Oh, would the higher Powers, be kind to us,
And grant us to set up a Female house;
We'l make our selves, to please both Sexes then,
To the Men Women, to the Women Men.
Here we presume, our Legs are no ill sight,
And they will give you no ill Dreams at night:
In Dreames both Sexes, may their passions ease,
You make us then as civill as you please.
This would prevent the houses joyning too,
At which we are as much displeas'd as you:
For all our Women, mo£t devoutly swear,
Each would be rather, a poor Aftress here,
Then to be made a Mamamouchi there.
Prologue to the Parsons Wedding y spoken
by Mrs. Marshall in mans Cloathes.
A Fter so many sad complaints to us,
-^^■The painfull, labouring Women of this house,
We, with our Poet, have prevail'd agen,
To give us our revenge upon the men :
Our tricks, our jelting, hath been often told ;
They nere were tax'd, for impotent, and old.
'Twas not our crime, the house so long lay £lill;
When e're we play not, 'tis against our will.
B2                               We

4                  Covent Garden Drollery.
We could have Afted, could but they have joyn'd ;
You know the fault, lies seldome in our kind.
Poor Sinners : their be£t parts are worn away,
And now they quarrel, when they cannot play.
'Twas somewhat better, when they did agree;
'Twas old, but 'twas a willing company.
Mean time, till they their quarrels can attone,
You may supply their Parts, now they are gone,
We hope you will not let us Aft alone.
The House, the Scenes, and all things here are free,
While this Play la£ts, 'tis ours : and you, and we,
Can joyn, and make an abler Company.
For so much every woman here assures,
The Profit ours, the Pleasure shall be yours.
Epilogue

Covent Garden Drollery.                5
Epilogue to the Parsons Wedding.
WHen boys play'd women's parts, you'd think the
Was innocent in that untempting Age. (Stage,
No : for your amorous Fathers then, like you,
Amongst those Boys had Play-house Misses too:
They set those bearded Beauties on their laps,
Men gave 'em Kisses, and the Ladies Claps.
But they, poor hearts, could not supply our Room.
They went but Females to the Tyring-room,
While we, in kindness to our selves and you,
Can hold out Women to our Lodgings too.
Now, to oppose the humour of that Age,
We have this day expell'd our Men the Stage.
Why cannot we as well perform their Parts ?
No, 't would not take : the tender Ladies hearts
Would then their former charity give o're:
The Madams in disguise would £teal no more
To th' young Adtors Chambers in mask'd Faces,
To leave Love offerings of Points and Laces.
Nor can we Aft their Parts : Alas ! too soon
You'd find the cheat in th' empty Pantaloon.
Well; though we are not Womens-Men, at lea£t
We hope to have you Gallants constant Guests;
Which if you grant, and fill our house each day,
We will return your kindnesses this way:
We'l build up a new Theatre to gain you,
And turn this to a House to entertain you.
B3                                  A

6                  Covent Garden Drollery.
yf Prologue to Marriage Al la mode,
By Mr. Heart.
T Ord how reform'd, and quiet are we grown,
-■—'Since all our Braves, and all our Wits are gone,
Those that dur£t fight are gone to get renown,
And those that dur£t not, blush to Stand in Town.
'Twas a sad sight, before they went from home,^
To see our Warriors in red WaStcoats come, J-
With hair tuck't up into our tyring Room. J
But 'twas more sad, to hear their laSl adieu.
The women sob'd, and swore they would be true,
And so they were as long as ere they cou'd ; \
But powerful Guinny cannot be withstood : J-
And they were made of Play-house Flesh & blood. J
Fate did their friends for double use ordain,^
In wars abroad, they grinning honour gain, \
And mistresses, for all that Slay maintain. J
Now they are gone, 'tis dead Vacation here,
For neither friends, nor enemies appear.
Poor

Covent Garden Drollery.                  7
Poor pensive Punck, now peeps ere Plays begin,
Sees the bare Bench, and dares not venture in.
But manages her la£t half-Crown with care,
And trudges to the Mall, on foot for Air.
Our City friends, so far will hardly roam,
They can take up with pleasures nearer home;
And see gay Showes, with gaudy Scenes elsewhere,
For, 'tis presum'd, they seldome come to hear:
But they have now tane up a glorious trade,
And cutting Morecraft, struts in Masquerade.
Here's all our hope, for we shall shew to day,
A Masquing Ball, to recommend our Play.
Nay, to endear them more, and let them see,
We scorn to come behind in courtesie;
We'l follow the new Mode, which they begin,
And treat them with a Room and Couch within :
For that's one way (how e're the Play falls short)
To oblige the Town, the City and the Court.
B 4                      Epilogue

8                  Covent Garden Drollery.
Epilogue by Mr. Mohun.
T^ Hus have my Spouse, and I, inform'd the Nation,
-■- And led you all the way to Reformation :
Not with dull morals gravely writ, like those
Which men, of easie flegme, with care compose.
Your Poets of £tiff words, and limber sence,
Born on the confines of indifference ;
But by example drawn, I dare to say,
From mo£t of you, who see and hear the Play.
There are more Rhodophils in this Theater,
More Pa/amedes, and some few wives I fear:
But yet too far, our Poet would not run,
Though 'twas well offer'd, there was nothing done :
He would not quite the Women faulty bare,
But £tript them to the wa£fce, and left them there.
And the Mens faults were less severely shown,
For he considers that himself is one.
Some Slabbing wits, to bloody Satyr bent,
Would fret both sexes, with less compliment.
Would lay the Sceane at home, of Husbands tell,
For wenches taking up their wives i' th' Me//;
And a brisk bout, which each of them did want,
Made by mistake of Mistress and Gallant.
Our modest Authour thought it was enough,
To cut you off a sample of the Stuff.
He

Covent Garden Drollery.                  9
He spar' d my Shame, which you I 'me sure, would not;
For you are all for driving on the Plot.
You sigh'd, when I came in to break the sport,
And set your Teeth, when each design fell short.
To Wives and Servants, all good wishes lend,
But the poor Cuckold, seldom finds a Friend,
Since therefore Town, nor Court will take no pitty,
I humbly ca£t my self upon the City.
Prologue to Iulius Caesar.
IN Country beauties, as we often see,
Something that takes in their simplicity.
Yet while they charm, they know not they are fair,
And take, without the spreading of the Snare :
Such Artless beauty, lies in Shakespears wit,
'Twas well, in spight of him, what e're he writ.
His Excellencies came, and were not sought;
His Words, like casual Atoms, made a thought:
Drew up themselves in Rank and File, and writ,
He wondring how the Devill it was such wit.
Thus, like the drunken Tinker, in his Play,
He grew a Prince, and never knew which way.
He did not know what Trope or Figure meant,
But, to perswade, is to be eloquent.
So, in this C<esar^ which to day you see,
Tully ne'r spoke as he makes Anthony.
Those then that tax his Learning, are to blame;
He knew the thing, but did not know the name.
Great

io                Covent Garden Drollery.
Great Iohnson did that Ignorance adore,
And though he envi'd much, admir'd him more.
The faultless Iohnson^ equally writ well,
Shakespear made faults ; but then did more excell.
One close at Guard, like some old Fencer, lay;
T'other more open, but he shew'd more play.
In Imitation, Iohnsons wit was shown,
Heaven made his men; but Shakespearma.de his own,
Wise Iohnsonys Talent in observing lay;
But others Follies Still made up his play.
He drew the like, in each elaborate line;
But Shakespear^ like a Master, did design.
Iohnson with skill, dissefted humane kind,
And shew'd their faults, that they their faults might
But then, as all Anatomists mu£t do,             (find :
He to the meanest of mankind did go,
And took from Gibbets, such as he would show.
Both are so great, that he muSt boldly dare,
Who both of 'em does judge, and both compare.
If, among£l Poets, one more bold there be,
The man that dare attempt in either way, is he.
The Prologue to Wit without Money : being the firSl
Play atted after the Fire.
SO shipwrack't Passengers escape to Land,
So look they, when on bare Beach they Stand.
Dropping

Covent Garden Drollery.                 11
Dropping and cold ; and their firft fear scarce o're,
Expecting Famine, from a desert Shore.
From that hard Climate, we muft wait for Bread,
Whence even the Natives, forc't by hunger, fled.
Our Stage does humane chance present to view;
But ne're before was seen so sadly true.
You are chang'd too, and your pretence to see
Is but a nobler name of charity.
Your own provisions, furnish out our Feasts,
Whilst you, the Founders, make your selves our Gue£ts.
Of all mankind besides Fate had some care,
But for poor Wit no Portion did -prepare :
yTis left a rent-charge to the brave and fair.
You cherish it, and now its fall you mourn,
Which blind unmanner'd Zealots make their scorn,
Who think that Fire, a judgment on the Stage,
Which spar'd not Temples in its furious rage.
But as our new built City rises higher;
So from old Theatres may new aspire :
Since Fate contrives magnificence by fire.
Our great Metropolis, does so far surpass
What e're is now, and equals all that was :
Our wit as far, does Forreign wit excell;
And, like a King, should in a Palace dwell,
But we with golden hopes, are vainly fed,
Talk high, and entertain you in a Shed.
Your presence here (for which we humbly sue)
Will grace old Theatres, and build up new.
A Prologue

12                Covent Garden Drollery.
A Prologue to the Pilgrim.
OUr Authour once was one that drove a Trade,
Till pinching some odd customers (as 'tis said)
Shop was shut up forthwith, and from that fall,
Like broken Tradesmen, humbly took a Stall,
And fell to Cobling, all that he has done,
Is to peice up what Fletcher had begun.
He dares make nothing new, for fear some may
Turn that to earned, which he meant a Play.
Suppose a Painter should a Story draw,
And invent Postures which he never saw.
With several looks, to one you may suppose,
He gives grave looks, another a great Nose.
Would you not laugh if one of gravity
Should see't, and swear by this the Rogue meant me.
Or one lead by the Nose something too high,
Should see the peice, and swear, judge me that's I,
Another figure may be finely dre£l,
Painted in Feathers and a gaudy Ve£L
Should therefore a Gallant that wears good £tore,
Swear I am Painted by this son of a Whore.
This is the case, and now be judge I pray,
Whether the Poet be in fault or they.
A Poet, from his fancy, drawes alone;
They that the likeness find, make it their own.
Yet

Covent Garden Drollery.                13
Yet let them, at lea£t, not seem to know it,
But Pox on't, the business that they do will shew it.
Yet such perhaps may justly cry to day,
Hang him, he that finds fault with us, can't mend
Then hiss him off, and let him learn to be (a Play.
Wise, and grow rich, and leave off Poetry.
Prologue to Richard the third.
LOck up your Doores, and bring the Keys to me :
From henceforth learn to value liberty.
This day we Adl a Tyrant; ere you go
I fear that, to your co&, you'l find it so.
What early haft yo' have made to pass a Fine,
To purchase Fetters : how you croud to joyn
With an Usurper ? be advis'd by me :
Ne're serve Usurpers, fix to Loyalty.
For you will find, at latter end o' th' day.
It is your noblest and the safest way.
Who fleers that course, needs feare nor wind, nor tide,
He wants no Pilot, who has such a guide.
Tyrants (like childrens Bubbles in the air)
Puft up with pride, &ill vanish in despair.
But lawfull Monarchs are preserved by heaven,
And'tis from thence that their Commission's given.
Though giddy Fortune, for a time, may frown.
And seem t' eclipse the lustre of a Crown.
Yet

14                Covent Garden Drollery.
Yet a King can, with one Maje£tick Ray,
Dispearse those Clouds, and make a glorious day.
This blessed truth we to our joy have found,
Since our great Master happily was Crown'd.
So, from the rage of Richards Tyranny,
Richmond himself, will come and set you free.
J£ J£ J£ J£ 5£ 5£ 2£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ J£ J£ !S£ 5£ 5£ 5£ J£ S£ J£ J£ ?£ 2£
Prologue to the double Marriage.
/^Allants you have so long bin absent hence,
^-*That you have almost cooFd your diligence,
For while we £hiddy or revive a Play,
You like good Husbands in the Country £tay,
There frugally wear out your Summer Suite, \
And in Frize Ierkin after Beagles Toot,         \
Or in Mountero-Caps at field fares shoot. J
Nay some are so obdurate in their Sin,
That they swear never to come up again.
But all their charge of Cloathes and treat Retrench,
To Gloves and Stockings for some country Wench.
Even they who in the Summer had mishaps,
Send up to Town for Physick for their Claps.
The Ladyes too, are as resolv'd as they,             \
And having debts unknown to them, they £tay, \
And with the gain of Cheese and Poultry pay. J
Even in their Visits, they from Banquets fall,
To entertain with Nuts and bottle Ale,
And

Covent Garden Drollery.                 15
And in discourse with secresy report
Stale News that pa£t a Twelve-month since at Court.
Those of them, who are moft refin'd, and gay,
Now learn the Songs of the la£t Summers Play:
While the young Daughter does in private Mourn,
Her Loves in Town, and hopes not to return.
These Country grievances too great appear;
But cruel Ladies, we have greater here;
You come not sharp, as you were wont to Playes ;
But only on the fir£t and second Days :
This made our Poet, in his visits, look
What new Grange courses, for your time you took,
And to his great regret he found too soon,
Damn'd BeaSI and Umbre^ spent the afternoon ;
So that we cannot hope to see you here
Before the little Net-work Purse be cleare.
Suppose you should have luck ;-------
Yet sitting up so late as I am told,
You'l lose in Beauty, what you win in Gold:
And what each Lady of another says,
Will make you new Lampoones, and us new Plays.
SONG.

16                Covent Garden Drollery.
 
SONG
I.
FArewell Fair Arminda^ my joy and my grief,
In vain I have lov'd you, and hope no releif;
Undone by your vertue, too £tri£t and severe,
Your Eyes gave me Love, and you gave me despair.
Now caird by my Honour, I seek with content,
The Fate which in pitty, you would not prevent:
To languish in Love, were to find by delay,
A death that's more welcome the speedye£t way.
2.
On Seas, and in Battles, in Bullets and Fire,
The danger is less, then in hopeless desire;
My Death's-wound you gave, though far off I bear,
My fall from your sight not to co£t you a Tear.
But if the kind Flood, on a Wave should convey,
And under your Window, my Body would lay!
The wound on my breast, when you happen to see,
You'l say with a sigh—it was given by me.
The

Covent Garden Drollery.                17
f^^lfsf^^^^^^^^^k^ks^^ksfff^sfff^sf^^sf^^sf^
The Answer.
1.
BLame not your Artninda, nor call her your grief,
'Twas honour, not she, that deny'd you releif:
Abuse not her vertue, nor call it severe,
Who Loves without honour, muft meet with despair,
Now prompted by pitty I truly lament,
And Mourn for your fall, which I could not prevent;
I Languish to think that your blood should defray,
The expence of a fall, though so noble a way.
2.
In Seas, and in Battles that you did expire,
Was th' effeft of your Valour, not hopeless desire ;
Of the Fame you acquir'd, I greedily hear,
And grieve when I think that it co£t you so dear.
And when dismal Fate, did your Body convey,
By my window your Funeral Rites for to pay:
I sigh that your Fate, I could not reverse,
And all my kind wishes, I £trow on your Hearse.
C                                  Pro

18                Covent Garden Drollery.
Prologue spoken by Mrs Marshall,
to Philafter.
T Ate Prologues, have had so much confidence,
"We did beleive w' had frighted you from hence.
And plainly told the Poets of this house,
Such witt, would ruine both themselves and us.
But they reply'd, we much mistook the age,
If we thought vertue, muft support the Stage;
Our Bawdery will lose you here 'tis true,
Some civel women ; and of them but few.
The mo£t discreet amongst 'em will come £till,
Good soules----------------------------
They neither hear nor understand, what's ill:
But what are these to Vizard Masques, who come,
To applaud that here, which keeps 'em fine at home :
And all the spruce Gallants will hither croud,
To laugh at what themselves perform abroad;
They and their dear lov'd Misses, 'tis well known,
Are much the Strongest party of the town.
And while----------------------------
Or you, or we, are vicious, never fear,
To have a full and candid Audience here.
Our

Covent Garden Drollery.                 19
Our Poets this, t' excuse themselves did say,
And faith, by your appearance here to day,
We find they had reason ; Confidence wo'nt lose you,
You 'are alwaies the be£t pleas'd when we abuse you;
And that's a Curtesie, we'l nere refuse you.—
Your Follies, are so obvious, and so great,
Tis much the cheapest way Wit has to treat.
There's no delight we give you with such ease, \
Lord, why do they say th' Age is hard to please \
When it will doat, on its own fooleries !             J
Gallants ; Men need not Study much to gain you,
Since telling you your Faults, will entertain you.
Epilogue spoken by Mrs. Marshall to
Phila£ter.
HP Hough change all times, both praftise and allow,
-* Women were never left, as we are now.
We blame the inconstant Gallants of the Age,
But yet the Pit, is nothing to the Stage.
You leave us one by one ; they, all at once ;
And unprovok'd, our company Renounce.
We put 'em to no Charge, no house i' th' Fields,
No damask Coach, which the la£t Guinnie yeilds;
And yet they left us : had they been like you,
We 'had kept them sure, till they, or we, got new.
Gallants, your Fathers with one Sex made shift,
C 2                             Sure

20                Covent Garden Drollery.
Sure ours, of pleasing, has the better gift,
A bearded Princess their concern could move,
Why may not, now, a beardless Prince make Love:
Nor should soft lines, for youth, and beauty meant,
Be on Men's blew, and withered faces spent.
We 'have all that mode&y pretends to prize,
And what we want, is hid from vulger eyes ;
It is all one to us ; but 'twill appear,
Tis much your cheapest way, to keep us here.
xf xfrxfrxfrxpxpxpxpxtrx(rx(?x(rxp \p yt/y^y^yi/y^' xp xp xp xp xp xp y x(?x(T
A Lampoon on the Greenwich Strowlers.
(command,
OH ! assist me you Powers, who have Rhymes at
For i'faith I've a weighty business in hand.
(sing,
Of the late Greenwich Strowlers I'me now going to
But all things in order—fir&, God save the King.
2.
Hem ; hem ; now put we off to the matter,
On Easier Sunday, the Raskals took water.
Where landing at Greenwich they agreed that a share,
Should be settled o' th' Sculler, instead of his fare.
3. Then

Covent Garden Drollery.                21
3-
Then up they march'd to the sign of the Bull,
Where asking for Lodging, quoth the folks we are full,
But weel see for some for you; and so, with that wheadle,
Ud's lid, exits the Landlord, and enter the Beadle.
4-
With that their chief Aftor begins for to bri&le,
Quoth he, p'shaw waw'let the Beadle go whittle:
For I can, and he did too, produce straight a Pattent,
That had the Kings Hand and Seal, and all that in't.
5-
Well this rub of fortune is over: but ftay,
They call for a Reckning, there's six Pence to pay.
Now mark how damn'd fortune these Strowlers do's
(cozen
They Pawn all their &ock to pay the half dozen.
6.
But promising th' Ho£t that he should ticket free,
See their Plays every day, and his whole family,
He releases 'em straight, and now all the rabble
March'd up to go lye in their Play-house—a Stable.
C3                         7. This

22                Covent Garden Drollery.
7-
This fortunate Stable had Faggots in it,
Which serv'd to seat all the House, but the Pit;
For that was more decently spread, I confess,
With Straw, to secure 'em from horse-Dung ana Piss.
8.
Now he that sate here had much the better pjace,
He broke not his Neck, though he wetted his Ar—
For by th'ill successive disposure of th'other
Folks saw, and they tumbled too, one o're another,
9-
I confess they had never a Scene at all,
They wanted no copy, they had th' originall i (roof,
For the windowes being down, and mo£t of the
How could they want Scenes, when they had prospeft
(enough.
10.
Now will we suppose that Monday is come,
And the Play is proclaimed by beat of a Drum.
Faith, nowyouare supposing, let it be Tuesdaymorn,
For of Monday I know no more then the child un-
(born.
11. Its

Covent Garden Drollery.                23
11.
Its said that they Afted not upon Monday,
Something was wanting, and so they loft one day,
They send unto London, what's lacking is gotten,
And so on the next day, wy'e all things did cotten.
12.
Th* Prizes they took, were a Londoners groat,
A Qentlemans size but his skipkennels pot,
ThaTownsmen they let in for drink and good chear.
TheiSchoolboys for peace, and the Seamen for fear.
13-
On %iesday at three a clock I was we'e 'em,
I ki£itheir doorkeeper and went in to see 'em,
Beind enter'd an Aftor straight brought me a ftool,
He'dJa held my cloak too, but I wa'nt such a fool.
14.
The firft that appear'd when I was come in
(Vith her train to her ankles) was who but the Queen:
Ske civilly made me a curtsy, and straight
Retired to sit on her Fagots of ftate.
C4                       15. Then

24                Covent Garden Drollery.
Then in came the King with a murtherous mind,
Gainft his new married Queen: which when I didfind,
I call'd him a side, and whispering in's Ear,
Desired him to fetch me a Flagon of Bear.
16.
Theres twelve pence said I, take the re£l for your pains,
Your Servant, said he, Sir, sweet Mr. Hains.
His Majesty faith, I muft needs say was civill,
For he took up his Heels, and ran for't like a Devil.
17-
Mean time I address my self to his Bride,
And took her into the tireing House side;
A Hay loft it was, which at a dead lift,
In£lead of a better serv'd then for a shift.
18.
But mark the fate of her civility,
The Players did rant both at her and me:
And therefore because for fear she'd be lack'd,
I ordered the Drummer to beat a long Act.
19. He

Covent Garden Drollery.                25
19.
He beat, and he beat, but no Queen appear'd,
He beat till at length the house was all clear'd;
By my Troath a sad loss, but to make 'em amen'ds
I threw 'em a Crown, and we were all friends:
And so this renowned History ends.
SONG
Maid, Charon, Charon, come away,
Bring forth thy Boat and Oare;
That I poor Maid may make no £tay,
But row me to some Shore.
Charon, Who calls on Charon in such ha£l,
As if they suffer'd pain ?
I carry none but pure and cha&,
Such as true Love hath slain.
Maid, Oh ! carry me within thy Boat,
Tie tell thee a true loves Tale,
With

26                Covent Garden Drollery.
With sighs so deep, when as we float
Shall serve us for a Gale.
4-
Charon, I Come, I come, sweet soul I come,
Thy beauty does so charm me;
Come in my Boat, take there a Room,
Nor Wind nor Rain, shall harm thee.
5-
Maid, And now I am within thy Boat,
Fie sing thee a true love Song:
My Eyes shall shed a sea of Waves,
To float our Boat a long.
6.
Charon, But what's become of those hard hearts,
That Virgins did not pitty ?
They live within Virginia parts
Where Pluto built his City,
A Song.

Covent Garden Drollery,                27
A Song.
Since we poor slavish women know,
Like men we cannot pick and chuse;
To him we like, why say we no,
And both our time and labour lose ?
By our put off's, and fain'd delayes,
A Lovers appetite we pall;
And if too long the youngster £tays,
His ftomack's gon for good and all.
2.
Or our impatient amorous Gue£t,
Unknown to us away may £teale,
And rather then £tay for a Fea£l;
Take up with some course ready Meale.
When opportunity is kind,
Let prudent women be so too,
And if the man be to her mind ;
Be sure she do not let him go.
3-
The match soon made, is happiest &ill,
For Love has only there to do,
Let no one marry gainft her will;
But ftand off when her Parents woe.
And to the Suiter be not coy,
For she whom Ioynture can obtain
To let a Fop her bed injoy:
Is but a lawfull Wench for gain.
Song.

28                Covent Garden Drollery.
HOw many Lovers Poetry has got ?
No Mistress by so many Rivals sought:
And sure to be so courted she's the fir£i,
That was so very poor, and very cur&.
All her enjoyments too, is but a name,
Yet coy of that, nor safe in her own Fame.
The vain Gallants that unto Poetry,
Or Women do pretend, in this agree;
Each thinks his Mistress sure, and in despite,
Though he ne're hopes to gain her, swears he might.
Another Damme Lover with a smile,
Cry's he could have her, were it worth the while.
Say's t'other, would I court this rhiming Dame,
Gad I could show the world both Sake and Flame ;
One line should not be high, and th'other sinking;
But lac and Tom Pox take 'em, keep me drinking.
Against such censurers we do declare,
Before they plead they should be cal'd to th' Barr.
To Iudges places, these ought not to rise,
That for degrees have done no exercise.
For some who did pretend to the moft wit,
Have not made out their claims when they have writ,
By those contentions, should not sure be sought,
When their own titles are in question brought.
Those Iudges he allowes whose claims are clear,
For those he thinks are few and less severe.
Song.

Covent Garden Drollery.                29
xtr xtr xtr xtr xtf xp x/r xit xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp
SONG.
I.
IN few words Fie describe a Fanatick knave,
That snarles and knows not what he would have,
Pray mark but the tricks of this prick ear'd slave,
Which no body can deny.
2.
Hee'd kill his King, to preserve his cause,
Hang honest men in defence of the Law's
And this he sayes is a legal cause.
Which no body can deny.
3-
He flyes from the Scripture, and stands to the Word,
Prote&s the Gospell muft come in by the Sword,
But that the Devil is his good Lord.
There's no body can deny.
4-
He prayes by the spirit two hours at leaft,
And spends in edification the reft,
With an evil spirit he is posseft,
Which no body can deny.
5. His

30                Covent Garden Drollery.
5-
His Text you shall find in a States Declaration,
His Do&rine is an association,
Rebellion is his application.
Which no body can deny.
6.
He bids Plunder, and tells 'em the meek muft inherit
He had rather be guilty of Murder then Merit,
And those he cryes up for the fruits of the spirit.
Which no body^ &c.
7-
He talks of the Miter, but would strike at the Crown,
And Elands for the publick advance and his own,
He will have Smocks up, and Surplices down.
Which no body can> &c.
8.
A Church is prophane and a Barn does as well,
Where the holy si&er her wants may tell,
But verely this is a codpeice zeal.
Which no body can deny.
Song.

Covent Garden Drollery.
3i
 
SONG.
I.
PRide for the moft part,
When we lose a Sweet-heart;
Will make us dissemble and seem to disdain,
The conquest which we, can no longer maintain.
But such was my Love, and such was my Lover,
That in spite of my Pride, I my Griefe did discover.
2.
Though short was my Raign,
Yet I will not complain ;
When Pleasure grows dull then a Lover may range,
And seek fresh delights in some happy new change.
The Devil's in her that will have a poor man
Still love, and £till love, when he has lov'd all he can.
SONG.

32                Covent Garden Drollery.
J£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ ?£ 5£ 5£ 5£ J£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ J£ J£ 5£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ 5£ ?£ J£ ?£ ?£
SONG.
I.
'T^O her beauty Fie pay
-*■ My devotions each day,
That all jaunty delights will me give,
Though her soul do expire,
Phcenix-Yikz in loves fire;
Yet again her enjoyments do live.
2.
With a brisk Aerie spark,
At Spring Garden, or Park,
In Glass Coach or Balcony thus free,
She will vanquish all hearts,
With her Boon Meen and parts ;
Shee's the heaven on earth unto me.
Prologue.

Covent Garden Drollery.                33
Prologue
T T E who comes hither with design to hiss,
A -I And with a bum revers'd, to whisper Miss,
To comb a Perriwig, or to shew gay cloathes,
Or to vent Antique nonscense with new oathes,
Our Poet welcomes as the Muses friend;
For hee'l by irony each Play commend.
Next these we welcome such as briskly dine,
At Locket*s, at Iiffords, or with Shataline.
SwelPd with Pottage, and the Burgundian Grape,
They hither come to take a kindly nap.
In these our Poet don't conceive much harm;
For they pay well, and keep our benches warm.
And though scarce half awake, some Playes they dam,
They do't by Wholesail; not by Ounce, and Dram.
But when fierce Criticks get them in their clutch,
They're crueller then the Tirannick Dutch.
And with more Art, do dislocate each Scene,
Then in Amboyna they the limbs of men.
They wrack each line, and every word unknit,
As if they'd find a way to cramp all Wit.
They are the terror of all adventurers here,
The very objefts of their hate and fear,
And like rude Common-wealths they £till are knit
'Gainst English Playes, the monarchyes of wit,
D                             They

34                Covent Garden Drollery.
They invade Poetique Lisence, and £till rail
At Plays to which in duty they should vaile.
Yet £till they 'infect this coa£fc to fish for jea£ts,
To supplyment their Wits at City feasts.
Thus much for Criticks: to the more generous Wit,
Our Poet Frankly^ does each Scene submit;
And begs your kind Allience to ingage
Those Hogen interlopers of the Stage.
Epilogue.
OUr next new Play, if this Mode hold in vogue,
Shall be half Prologue, and half Epilogue.
The way to please you is easie if we knew't,
A Jigg, a Song, a Rhyme or two will do't,
When your i' th' vain : and sometimes a good Play
Strangely miscarries, and is thrown away.
That this is such our Poet dares not think,
For what displeases you's a wa£t of Ink :
Besides this Play was writ nine years agoe,
And how times alters, Ladies, you be£i know;
Many then, fair and courted, I dare say,
Ad: half as out of Fashion, as our Play.
Besides if you'd consider 't well you'd find,
Y' have altered since ten thousand times, your mind ;
And if your humours do so often vary,
These in our Commedy must need miscary;
For

Covent Garden Drollery.
35
For as you change, each Poet moves his Pen,
They take from you the characters of Men.
The Wit they write, the Valour, and the Love,
Are all but Coppies of what you approve.
Our's follow'd the same rule, but does confess,
The love and humour of that season less.
And every Artist knows that Coppies fall,
For th' mo£t part, short of their Original!.
A Song.
WHen fir£t my free heart was surpriz'd by desire,
So soft was the Wound, and so gentle the Fire ;
My sighes were so sweet, and so pleasant the smart,
I pitty'd the Slave, who had ne'r lo& his heart;
He thinks himself happy, and free, but alas !
He is far from that Heaven, which Lovers possess.
In Nature was nothing, that I could compare,
With the beauty of PhilHs, I thought her so fair:
A Wit so divine, all her sayings did fill,
A Goddess she seem'd; and I mention'd her £till
With a Zeal more inflam'd, and a Passion more true,
Then a Martyr in flames, for Religion can shew.
More Vertues and Graces, I found in her mind,
Then Schooles can invent, or the Gods e're design'd;
She seem'd to be mine by each glance of her Eye,
(If Mortals might aim at a blessing so high)
D 2                        Each

26                Covent Garden Drollery.
Each day, with new favours, new hopes she did give;
But alas ! what is wish'd, we too soon do beleive.
With awful respeft, while I lov'd and admir'd,
But fear'd to attempt, what so much I desir'd,
How soon were my Hopes, and my Heaven destroy'd,
A Shepherd more daring, fell on and enjoy'd :
Yet, in spite of ill Fate, and the pains I endure,
I will find a new Phillis> to give me a cure.
A SONG.
T Oves daring flight, is unconfin'd,
-*-'No Lawes can reach his soaring Wings,
More free then Air, or pathless wind,
Or secret thoughts form'd in a youthful mind,
Above the power of the highest Kings ;
The Gods (if there were any more,
Besides great Love) by him were made;
His favour they did all implore.
His Darts they all obey'd,
Their deities by his, did shine or fade.
The lasting Fame bold Heroes win,
The sacred vertues you admire ;
All that the World can glory in,
By Loves assistance did at fir St begin.
Your

Covent Garden Drollery.                37
Your Beauty's rais'd from this Promethian fire:
Whom Love inspires, though dull before;
Becomes accomplished, Wise and brave,
To Conquer her he doth adore.
The glories which you have,
Your Lovers passion, and their prayses gave.
Then ask not how I dare aspire,
Before your sacred shrine to Kneel,
And offer my ambitious fire.
For were your Beauty, and your Title higher,
Love would betray the pains you make me feel.
If you are scornful and severe,
You add new Vigour to my flame;
And make it £till more bright appear:
If I possess my aim,
My happyness shall never spot your fame.
Though I should fea£fc my greedy Eyes,
And ev'ry minute £teal a Kiss;
Ta£t all those joyes men Idolise,
Your summ of pleasures £till as high would rise,
Nor would you have one charming grace the less,
But if your wishes equal are ;
In Loves Elizium you shall Raign,
And by our secret am'rous War
That Paradise obtain,
Which all the graver World have sought in vain.
D 3                        A Song.

38                Covent Garden Drollery,
xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp %p xp xp xp xp xpxp xp
SONG.
I.
T^Air was my Mistress, and fine as a Bride,
■*■ That is deck'd in her wedding Attire,
Her eyes do protect, I shall not be deni'd,
And yet I dare hardly come nigh her.
I seem'd to be sad and she smil'd,
Which I thought did a kindness betray;
Then forward I go,
But was dash'd with a no,
Yet came off with a ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,
Hey, ha ha ha ha ha.
2.
Strange was she then as a politick Nun,
And I found my firft courting was loft,
Her frowns put me farther then when I begun,
0  see how poor mortals are croft.
1  then made another assault,
When her kindness began to display,
And

Covent Garden Drollery.                39
And I brought her to this,
That she gave me a kiss,
And came off with a ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,
Hey, ha ha ha ha ha.
3-
High was my courrage, but more my desire,
Which fed my addresses with force,
That you could not distinguish whose eyes had mo&
Or who had the pretieft discourse :              (Fire,
Agreed, we lay down and tumbled,
Till both were a weary of play,
Though I spent a full share,
Yet by Cupid I swear,
I came off with a ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,
Hey, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
J£ !£ J£ 5£ J£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ ?£ 3£ J£ J£ J£ J£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ 5£ J£ J£ 5£ ?£ J£ J£ J£ J£ J£ 5£
SONG.
I.
T^ Arewell, dear Revechia, my joy and my grief,
■*• Too long I have lov'd you, and found no releif.
D 4                        Undone

40                Covent Garden Drollery,
Undone by your Jaylor too £tri& and severe,
Your eyes gave me Love and he gives me despair.
Now urg'd by your interest I seek to retire.
Far off from the cause of so hopeless a fire.
To £tay near you £till, were in vain to torment,
Your ears with a passion you muft not content.
2.
To live in the Country with fooles is less pain,
Then £till to endure an unwilling disdain,
You'r the cause of my exile, and far off Fie go,
That none of my suffrings you ever may know.
But if some kind fate, you should chance to convey
And through Woods where I Ve been your journey should
Your name when you find upon every tree, (lay,
You'l say, poor Alexis ! twas written by thee.
On Calliope retiring to her Spring.
SONG.
i.
SAcred to Love and Harmony,
And to the Fair Calliope^
There is a Spring, by Heav'n design'd,
To feed a Melancholly mind :
Hither when bigg with sighs and tears,
The troubl'd Deity repairs,
And with those Chry£tal dropps the spring augments,
Pouring into the Nymph her discontents.
2. So

Covent Garden Drollery.                41
2.
So Nero to a Hill retir'd,
When Rome by his command was fir'd;
And on his Harp contemptuously,
Play'd the sad City's Elegy:
As here, when to her conq'ring eyes,
Mankind's a flaming sacrifice !
Calliope insultingly retreats,
And with her Voice and Lute, her scorn repeats.
3-
Her voice th' harmonious Swans admire,
And in attention half expire ;
Catching the Eccho of each sound,
And drunk with Air, and almost drown'd.
Charming Calliope ! thy voice controuls
Even the passion of our soules !
Charm me yet more, that dying, I may be
A Sacrifice, to Harmony and Thee.
Mad Tom of Bedlam.
FOrth from the darke and dismall Cell,
And deep abiss of Hell,
Poor Tom is come to view the World again,
To see if he can cure his distempered Brain.
Fears and cares oppress my Soul,
And hark how the angry Furies houle.
Pluto laughs, and Proserpine is glad,
To see poor Tom of Bedlam mad.
Through

42                Covent Garden Drollery.
Through the world I wander night and day,
To seek my £tragled Sences,
In an angry mood, I met old Time,
With his Pentarch of Tences.
When me he spi'd,
Away he hi'd;
For time will £tay for no man,
In vain with cryes,
I rend the Skyes,
For Pitty is not common.
Cold and comfortless I lye,
Help, Oh help, for Charity.
Hark, I hear Appollo's teame:
The Carman gins to whittle,
Cha£fc Diana has bent her Bow,
And the Bore begins to brittle.
Come Vulcan with Tooles and with Tackles,
Come knock off these troublesome Shackles,
Bid Charles make ready his Wain,
To bring me my Sences again.
La£l night I heard the Dog Star bark,
Mars met with Venus in the dark;
Limping Vulcan het an Iron bar,
And furiously ran at the God of War.
Mars

Covent Garden Drollery,                43
Mars with his Weapon laid about,
But limping Vulcan had the Gout,
His broad Horns did hang so in's light,
He could not see, to aim his blow aright.
Mercury the nimble Po£t of Heaven,
Stood £till to see the Quarrel,
Gorbellyed Bacchus^ Giant-like:
Bedrid a great Bear Barrel.
To me he drank,
I did him thank,
But I could get no Sider,
He drank whole Butts,
And split his Gutts ;
But mine were ne're the wider.
Poor Tom is very dry,
A little Drink for charity;
Hark, I hear Afteons horn :
The Huntsman whoopes and hollows.
Bowman^ Ringwood, RoySter Jowler, ho, ho ;
At the Chase now foliowes.
The man in the Moon drinks Clarret,
Eats powder'd-Beif, Turnip and Carret;
But a glass of old Malago Sack,
Will fire the Bush at his back.
Song.

44                Covent Garden Drollery.
A Song.
pHilltSy the time is come that we muft sever,
-* Long we have linger'd 'twixt kindness and strife,
And though we have promis'd our selves to love ever
Yet there's a Fate in Love, as well as Life :
So many jealousies dayly we try,
Sometimes we Freeze, and sometimes we Fry,
That love in Colds, or Feavours will dye.
2.
Both by our selves, and others tormented,
Still in suspence betwixt Heaven and Hell,
Ever desiring, and never contented,
Either not loving, or loving too well;
Parting we £till are in each others powers,
Our love's a weather of Sun-shine and Show'rs
Its dayes are bitter, though sweet are its hours.
3-
Why should we Fate any longer importune,
Since to each other unhappy we prove ?
Like losing Gamesters, we tempt our ill fortune
Both might be luckier in a new Love.
This were the way our reason bear sway;
But when we so pleasing a passion destroy:
We may be more happy, but less should enjoy.
Upon

Covent Garden Drollery.                45
Upon his Dead Mi§lress> represented
in a Dream.
T TNkind ! And cruel fancy too !
^ Mocking my Sences, to renew
The mem'ry of that face !
Which (Death) tyrannically took,
On purpose he might gaze, and look:
And all his empire grace.
For, as, wild sullen fettered BeaSts, do tyre
Themselves by struggling, and put out their fire,
So, my unruly grief, it self had tam'd,
Which now, by fresher passion is enflam'd.
2.
Were there but hopeing from the Grave,
I wou'd to sorrow live a Slave;
And wait for her return,
Or Stifle craftily my Breath
With sigh's ; if proud, and Stubborn Death
Wou'd lay me in her Urne:
But he's too fond of her, there she muSt Stay,
Where I access want, since he guards the way.
Tie chide no more then, Fancie ! use thy skill,
That I may dream such killing pleasure Still.

46                Covent Garden Drollery.
*v xp\PW kitxtrxff xxrxtrkjtxtrxp%er xjrxjr xt?kitxffxpxerxtr xtr xp xp xp xp xtr xtr xp kit
An Eptthalamium.
1.
HP Hough so many say that chance is
-^ Sole disposer of our lives,
That our actions and our fancies
It directs and gives us Wives;
Yet the £tory here divine is,
Paft the reach of mortal Sence,
Hee's mistaken, whose design is
To prevent a Providence.
2.
There was neither Birth nor Beauty,
Made these years Parenthesis,
Fitting accidents and duty
Did, before deny the bliss.
Since they now embrace each other,
With a ju£t and mutual fire,
May their passions never smother;
Or their spirits fail desire.
3. Happy

Covenl Garden Drollery.                47
3-
Happy be your fir£t embraces,
So to answer both your flames,
That when either time defaces
You re&or'd be in your names.
Prudence let your deeds contrive all,
Free from jealousie and rage,
Death alone let be your Rival:
And the challenge brought by age.
 
SONG.
HP He beams of Lovers sparkling Eyes,
■*■ Such strange mifterious powers Dart,
They make their objeft sympathize,
And feel the flames that fire their heart.
If this were true, as reason seems to prove,
You cannot be insensible of Love.
2.
Fires aftive Element ascends
Loves passion is defin'd a flame,
If

48                Covent Garden Drollery,
If then my heart too high pretends
Ambition doth its truth proclaim.              (move,
Love sometimes bowes, though flames £till upward
So heavenly Cinthia did Endimion love.
Love does of Life and Death dispose
Commands as cheif in Court and Feild,
Then how can I a Prince oppose;
To whom the greatest Kings do yeild.
SONG.
I.
TLTOw charming are those pleasant pains
-■- -"-Which the succesfull Lover gains,
Oh how the longing spirit flies,
On scorching sighs, from dying eyes.
Whose intermixing rayes impart,
Loves welcome message to the heart.
2.
Then how the adtive Pulse grows warm,
To every sence gives the Alarm;
But oh, the raptures and the qualmes
When Love unites the melting palmes.
What

Covent Garden Drollery.                49
What extasies, what hopes and fears,
What pretty talk, and Amorous tears.
3-
To these a thousand Vowes succeed,
Oh then, oh Heavens ! the secret deed
When Sence and Soul are bath'd in bliss !
Think, dear Arminda^ think on this,
And curse those hours we did not prove
The ravishing delights of Love.
CATCH.
TAck drink away,
•-'Thou haft loft a whole minute,
Hang Wenches and Play;
There's no pleasure in it.
Faith take tother glass,
Though the Nights old and grey,
We may all have a pass,
To the Grave before Day.
And in the cold forsaken Grave,
There's no Drink lack, no Drink,
No Wine nor Women, can we have;
No company but Worms that ftink,
Then name thy own health, and begin it.
E                              Song.

50                Covent Garden Drollery.
SONG.
I.
CAlina you see
How from Court the new fashion.
Has conquer'd the Nation
All lovers mu£t be :
None but Phanaticks oppose the invasion
Then pray why should we ?
2.
Hang conscience and fear,
I am secret and loyal,
No envious espyal
Shall frighten my Dear;
That blush was so sweet, I can take no denial,
Nor longer forbare.
3-
Nay strive not in vain,
Fie o'recome thee with kisses,
Such pleasure as this is,
Would make love again
Despise his high ftate, to partake of our blisses:
Then who can abstain ?
4. o

Covent Garden Drollery.                51
4-
O these are the sweets,
Which none can discover
But the secret lover:
Great Caesar ne're meets
A joy more sublime; though he is firft mover,
To Love he submits.
A Song.
IN vain my dear Muse, you coyly refuse,
What Nature and Love do inspire,
That formall old way, which your Mother did use,
Can never confine the desire;
It rather adds Oyl to the Fire.
2.
When the tempting delights of Wooing are loft,
And pleasures a duty become,
We both shall appear, like some dead lovers Gho£t,
To frighten each other from home,
And the genial Bed like a Tomb.
3-
Now low at your feet, your fond Lover will lye
And seek a new Fate in your eyes;
One amorous smile, will exalt him so high
He can all but Aminda despise:
Then change to a frown and he dies.
E 2                           4. To

5 2                Covent Garden Drollery.
4-
To love, and each other we'l ever be true;
But, to raise our enjoyments by Art,
We'l often fall out, and often renew:
For to wound, and to cure the smart,
Is the pleasure which captives the Heart.
SONG.
f~^ Ive o'er foolish heart, and make ha£t to despair,
^^ForD<^/£/z<? regards not thyvowes, nor thy pray 'r.
When I plead for thy passion, thy pains to prolong,
She Courts her Gyttar, and replyes with a Song.
No more shall true Lovers, thy Beauty adore,
Were the Gods so severe, men would Worship no
(more.
No more will I wait like a Slave at the door,
Fie spend the cold Nights, at thy windore no more.
My Lungs in long sighs, no more Fie exhale,
Since thy Pride is to make me grow sullen and pale.
No more shall Amtntas^ thy Pitty implore,
Were the Gods so ingrate, men would Worship no more.
3. No

Covent Garden Drollery.                53
3-
No more shall thy frowns or free humour perswade,
To court the fair Idoll my fancy hath made;
When thy Saints so neglected their follies give o're,
Thy dietie's lo£t, and thy beautie's no more,
No more . . . &c.
How weake are the Vowes of a Lover in pain,
When flater'd by hope, or oppre£t by disdain ?
No sooner my Daphnes bright eyes I review.
But all is forgot, and I vow all a new:
No more cruel Nymph, I will murmer no more,
Did the Gods seem so fair, men would Worship
(them more.
E 3                         SONG.

54                Covent Garden Drollery.
J£ J£ 5£ !£ 5£ 5£ J£ S£ J£ 5£ J£ J£ J£ 5£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ S£ J£ J£ J£ J£ J£ J£ J£
SONG.
\X71th so much ease, ungrateful Swains,
* * Your faithless Vowes, have cured your pains.
You think by those, your perjuries betraid,
That all are false, or else may be so made;
And every smile or pleasing word proclaims,
The coldest Nymph, an offering to your flames.
2.
Vain Shepheard know, that now's the time,
To suffer for thy boafted Crime :
Repeated Vowes with me less credit find,
Then smiling Seas, or the uncertain Wind.
Deep Sighs, and frequent Tears, as things of course,
So common are, that they have loft their force.
3-
Thy passions Truth, will beft appear,
Disguised in doubts, and guilty fear.
When all the heart and careful Tongue conceal.
The sense disordered, and the eyes reveale.
Such dark confusion makes the Flame shine bright,
So Stars are be£t discerned through shades of night.
4. One

Covent Garden Drollery.                55
4-
One &olne look, can better woe.
Then Sigh's, and Tears, and Vowes can do.
The falsest tears, like empty vessels sound,
But may thy feign'd become a real wound;
That thy severer pennance may declare,
How great mens crimes, and womens vertues are.
A Poem.
FAire£t Clariza, when you read,
This rudeness of my mornings Muse,
My Pardon, let my Passion plead:
But how can Guilt a Crime excuse.
Then to your goodness only, I appeale,
The Wounds your Justice makes, let Pitty heale.
I court Occasion but in vain,
My reftless passion to relate,
From your entrancing Lips to gain;
The knowledge of my doubtfull Fate.
You are my sacred Oracle, from whom,
The sentence of my Life, or Death, mu£t come.
Prophetick influence of Stars,
Henceforth I will no longer prize,
E4                               Nor

$6                Covent Garden Drollery.
Nor search the fate of Peace or Wars,
But in your more resplendant Eyes.
If you but smile, Fate cannot ca£t me down ;
So highest joyes will vanish when you frown.
Nature wants Language to impart,
The real Paradise of bliss,
With which your smiles possess my heart:
If there be Heaven on Earth, tis this.
If I had all mans boundless wish would have,
Fde slight whole Empires, to become your Slave.
How tedious six short Suns appear,
Which vail your Beauty from my sight,
Each flying minute seemes a year;
An Age is shorter then a Night.
But when dull time, the long wish'd day has brought,
The treacherous hours out fly the swiftest thought.
Impatience ne'r revealed my love,
To silent Streams or whispering Air,
I tru£fc no melancholy Grove
With Ecchoes of my sad despair.
Friendship and Duty lose their interest here;
To none . . . but you, my passion shall appear.
All human aftions mu£t obey,
The sure decrees of powerfull Fate,
From their prescriptions none can £tray;
Nor of themselves or love or hate.
We

Covent Garden Drollery.                57
We mu£t, or muft not, tis designed above.
Perhaps my Fate muft be, to dye for Love.
On his Mi§lress going from home.
SONG.
1.
SO does the Sun withdraw his Beames,
From off the Northern coasts and £treames.
When Clouds and Fronts ensue,
And leaves the melancholly Slaves
Stupid and dull as near their Graves,
Till he their joys renew.
Those that in Greenland^ followed Game
Too long, and found when back they came,
Their Shipping gon, believed they mu£t dye
E're Succor came ; but yet more ble£t then I.
2.
How soon our happyness does fly,
Like Sounds, which with their Ecchoes dye,
And leave us in a Trance,
Bewailing we had e're enjoy'd,
The blessing, since 'tis £till de£lroyed

58                Covent Garden Drollery.
By some unhappy chance,
Why should the spiteful £tars agree,
To vex and mock mortality ?
For thus, like Traytors which in darkness lye,
Ware only brought into the light to dye.
3-
In dreams things are not as they seem.
Else, what's fruition but a dream
When the possessions pa£t ?
Alas : to say we were, we had,
Is poor content, and een as bad
As if w' had ne're had ta£t.
Fire in great Fronts, small time posse£t,
Produces pain instead of reft:
So does the short enjoyment of such bliss
And till restored, continual torment is.
 
SONG.
T^Hose tricks and bowes,
-*• And amorous vows,
I defie, and never will need 'em ;
For he that's taken with Puppet showes
Never knew the price of freedome.
2. I

Covent Garden Drollery.                59
2.
I defie the thoughts of loving,
Approving
'Tis a crime;
For my fancie's alwayes moving
To the vain expence of time.
3-
All the wisest count it folly,
Nor shall I
Be so mad
To be rul'd by Melancholy,
Or any effeft as bad.
4-
But Fie have my mind
Still unconfin'd,
And my thoughts as free as Ayr;
My humour £till rove with the wind,
And never know Lovers care.
SONG.
Since 'tis now become a fashion
To court all with equall passion,
And admires, now do prove
There is as well in love,
As in blood, a circulation,
2. Fme

60                Covent Garden Drollery.
2.
Fme resolved to £tand the sally,
Of the sutle£t Lovers volly ;
And when his vowes are out,
To let him move about
To his other Kate^ or Molley.
3-
Though I can allow his courting,
For my present fancies sporting;
Yet I never will admit
A Passion, Love, or Wit,
Without some years supporting.
If his humour sympathizes
With the same that mine advises,
Be he pleasant as he will,
Tie answer it; but £till
Keep a guard against surprises.
Song

Covent Garden Drollery.                61
SONG.
I.
A T the sight of my Phillis from every part,
•^^■A spring-tide of joy does flow up to my heart,
That quickens each pulse ; and swell's every vein,
But all my delights ; are £till mingled with pain.
2.
So strange a distemper sure ; Love, cannot bring,
To my Knowledge : Love was ; a quieter thing.
So gentle and tame ; that he never was known,
So much as to wake me ; when I lay alone.
3-
But the boy is much grown ; and so alter'd of late.
Hee's become a more furious passion ; then hate.
Since ; by Phillis re£tor'd ; to the Empire of hearts,
He has new strung his Bow ; and sharpen'd his darts.
And £triftly the Rites of his Crown ; to maintain,
He breaks every heart; and turn's every brain.
4-
My madness alass I too plainly discover.
For he is at lea£t as much Madman ; as Lover,
Who for one cruel beauty is ready to quit, (Pitt.
All the Nymphs of the Stage; and those of the
The joyes of Hide-Park; and the Malls dear delight,
To live sober all day; and cha£t all the night.
Song.

62                Covent Garden Drollery.
SONG.
WHil£t Alexis lay pre£t
In her Arms he lov'd be£i,
With his hands round her Neck,
And his head on her breast,
He found the fierce pleasure too ha£ty to £tay,
And his soul in the tempeft juft flying away,
2.
When Ccelia saw this,
With a sigh, and a kiss,
She cry'd, oh my dear, I am rob'd of my bliss ;
'Tis unkind to your love, and unfaithfully done
To leave me behind you, and dye all alone.
3-
The youth, though in ha£l,
And breathing his la£fc,
In pitty died slowly, while she dyed more fa£t;
Till at length she cry'd, now my dear, now let us go
Now dye my Alexis^ and I will dye too.
4'
Thus intranc'd they did lye,
Till Alexis did try
To recover new breath, that again he might dye,
Then often they dy'd; but the more they did so,
The Nymph dy'd more quick,and the Shepherd more
(slow.
SONG.

Cove fit Garden Drollery.                63
SONG.
HAng the trade of versifying,
Tis lying,
But in tune;
For some will be denying,
That a Rose is fresh in Iune.
2.
Besides the brother Poets,
Or shew witts,
Are so fierce,
That one can pretend to no witt,
Without the exchange of a Verse.
3-
They aim at praise,
And write for the Bayes :
Yet all they mention's a £tory,
And old Ben himself in the be£i of his dayes,
Ne're knew such a thing as Glory.
4-
To make up their Rhimes,
They'l change our times,
And make what is old seem new,
They'l tell you a tale, in a moddle of Chimes,
But the Devil a bit 'tis true.
SONG.
1

64                Covent Garden Drollery.
To his Mittres with a pair of Turtles.
in\0, happy Birds, my suit renew,
-L^Let her perceive that I, like you,
Excel in constancy;
But you each other do possess,
Mine's an inferiour happiness,
She payes no love to me.
My constancy may greater, then, be thought,
Since I to Love a cruel Nymph, am taught.
You do but pay each others Love with Love;
But I by loving scorn, do kinder prove:
If, then, more love then you I boaft,
Why should I more in love be croft,
Or not with hers be bleft ?
It is the heighth of my desire,
That I might but perceive my fire
Had warm'd my Ccelias breaft.
Oh could you speak, you certainly wou'd prove.
That 'twere but juftice to give love for love ;
Which though I can't expeft, Tie outvie
You Turtle Doves, in matchless constancy.
Song.

Covent Garden Drollery.                65
A Rural Dance at a Shropshire Wake.
WE11 met loan ; let us ha£i to the Wake,
For our Honour lies at Stake.
Did£t thou see Tom, when he went to the Green,
In gay Cloathes, as ere were seen,
With Nan and Doll
Kate and Moll,
Lads and Lasses that are brave Dancers ?
Will and Dick
Hodge and Nick;
All these are the next advancers.
Tru£t me loan thou danced be£t,
And art fairer then the re£t:
Thou shalt now the Garland wear,
Else Fie nere be seen at Fair.
There be £tree
And to thee
I will plight my faith to love thee,
Say then loan
Shall my Moane
Or Vowes have power to move thee ?
Grant me that Fie sigh and vowe,
Till thou saift Fie love thee now,
F                                 Fie

66                Covent Garden Drollery.
Fie give thee Ale and suger Cakes,
And carry thee to all our Wakes.
Pipeing Will
Singing Silly
Shall be summoned, to our Wedding.
Andrew Tit
Wat and Kitt,
Shall eat Posset at our Bedding,
Now loan, I find to my content,
That thy silence gives consent;
Let us married be to day,
For I can no longer £lay,
Pris and Hodge
lames and Madge,
Come along to this our Fearing.
Smile not loan
Y'are to blame,
For you'l find it is no jea£ting.
To

Covent Garden Drollery.
67
To his Miftress grown common.
SONG.
WHat Empire (Ccelid) equaPd mine,
When I alone reign'd ore all thine ?
When all thy glories did as aptly wait,
On my Devotion, as my heart wou'd ha't ?
When both thy heart and eyes,
All other objedls did despise,
And like a sacred Votaress did make,
Me thy dear Saint, and hence thy Bliss did£t take ?
Then in what pride I liv'd, to know that thee,
Whom the world ador'd, wer't rul'd by me!
2.
But now, like Forreigners, thine Eyes,
Do gaze on all, to take a Prize.
That beauty which once center'd upon me,
Is now diffus'd, and like the Sun shine free.
My vowes and tears pass by,
Yet know, vain Ccelia ! that I
Can quietly into my self retire,
Without the danger of a second fire,
And scorn thy partial Love : 'tis seldome known
A Prince admits a sharer to his Throne.
F2                                 To

68                Covent Garden Drollery.

^ ^ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ J£ 5£ S£ 5£ J£ 5£ 5£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ J£ 5£ 5£ J£ J£ J£ 5£ 5£ *£>£?£ 2£
"To his Mittress in Love with another.
SONG.
T^\ Isdainfull Chlona can£t thou despise
•*--^That flame which had its rise
From thy fair Eyes ?
Or, which is crueller,
Can£t thou to mine prefer,
Anothers dull flame ?
Wilt thou dispence thy love or hate,
Unequally, like partial Fate ?
Who, though it be mo£t rigorous to some,
For others, yet, reserves a milder Doom.
2.
If loving moft, may from you mo£t obtain,
Consider with what pain,
And envious care
I often have beheld,
What you did my Rival yeild,
Keeping my fire!
Oh, if you partially proceed,
Think, how you make your off-Spring bleed ;
When natures di&ates do the Mother bind,
Equally to her Children to be kind.
To

Covent Garden Drollery.                69
To his formerly scornful Mi§lressy though
now kind, as applying himself to
his Study.
NO, proud insultress, know my love,
Is now fix'd rightly, far above
The reach of fortunes frown, or thine ;
Nor mai£t thou hope 'twill ere decline
On thee again,
Here 'twill remain,
Secure from folly, to reward,
With like contempt, this disreguard:
For here, as on Olimpus plac'd, I spie
The giddy World mislead by foolery.
2.
My love, this will never dye,
Since here I have variety:
Then hope not it will so debase
It self, to doat upon thy face :
It was thy hate
That did create
F3                                 To

70                Covent Garden Drollery.
To me this happyness, and so
Thy form at fir£t did prove my foe;
For gazeing, like an harmless Forreigner,
On thy bewitching features, I did erre.
3-
But, to my self, return'd, thy pride
Deservedly I do deride.
And, seated here, I do defie
The wanton glaunces of thine Eye :
Then mourn, and chide
Th' excess of Pride,
That made thee lose that heart, which now
With all thy Arts thou cans't not bow;
Since now with more delight, I dayly prove
The pleasures of revenge, then those of love.
A Song.

Covent Garden Drollery.                71
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A SONG.
C1Loris I burn, behold and view,
And coole me with a sigh from you;
I fry in Flames, and £till consume,
Although the Pile is all Perfume.
2.
To be in Oyl of Roses drown'd,
Or Water, where's the difference found ?
Both bring one death, and death will be
Unwelcome any way to me.
3-
Then, gentle Maid some pitty show;
Di£troy not him, that loves you so :
Alass, I call; but ah ! I see
There is no hope in £tore for me.
F 4                             Song.

J 2                Covent Garden Drollery.
Xff" Xp V XI? XIT KIT \f? XIT %f? KIT KP Xf? XCT *f? \t? \& X& \f? Xff" *£" \P XP XJP 1/? X(T %(? *i? XlT \& 10*
SONG.
CO closly, closly pre£t,

^In his Clymena's Armes young Damon lay
Panting, in that transport so over ble£t,
He seem'd ju£t ready, ju£fc to dye away :
Clymena beheld him with amourous Eyes,
And thus betwixt sighing and kissing she cries,
Oh make not such ha£t to be gon ;
Tis too much unkind,
While I £tay behind,
For you to be dying alone.
2.
This made the youth, now, drawing to his end,
The happy moment of his death suspend :
But with so great a pain,
His flying Soul he did retain;
That with himself he seem'd at strife,
Whether to let out Love, or keep in Life.
Then she who already was halting to Death,
Said softly, and trembling, and all out of breath,
Oh ! now my dear let us go ;
Dye with me, Damon^ for now I dye too:
Thus dyed they, but 'twas of so secret a death,
That so to dye again, they took new breath.
Song.

Covent Garden Drollery.                73
A Way with this legal Fruition,
The pennance of Flegmatick love,
Devised by some old Politician :
Whose sinewes, no longer could move.
Since wenching is modish, and beauty is common,
Why should we wed the defefts of a woman ?
2.
The Husband has all the vexation,
The quarrels and care of the Sheets, •
Fair Perriwigs and Fops, in th* Fashion,
For nothing enjoy all the sweets.
Since, &c.
3-
If the Wife has Witt, Beauty, or Portion,
Fine Cloathes and Gallants muft be had,
She followes the Court for Promotion ;
And heigh for the new Masquerade.
Since, &c.
4 When

74                Covent Garden Drollery.
4
When the Chaos was made a Creation
And all things in order did move,
The wisest in every nation
Went in unto all they did love.
Since) &c.
5
Each bout is a fea£t of new pleasure,
To those that may any where feed,
The Bees have all natures sweet treasure,
But Drones are confin'd to a Weed.
Since wenching is modish^ and beauty is common y
Why should we wed the defetts of a woman ?
The

Covent Garden Drollery.                75

^^$^^^^^^¥^^¥¥¥^^^¥^¥¥^^^^
The Willow-wearing Lovers disconsolate
Complaint.
1.
WHen fir£t I beheld my fair Philomels face,
She appear'd like an Angel to me;
But when her dear love
She vouchsaft me to prove,
I was ble£t with what mankind could be,
2.
She has toy'd, and has talk'd, when abroad we have
And at home all delights have expre£t; (walk'd,
Her discourse, and her parts,
Would have ravish'd all hearts
That ever with her had convers'd.
3-
When we were alone, then I gaz'd on her face,
And the more I did gaze I admir'd:
No words I could speak,
Lea£t my heart it should break
But with sigh's it told what I desir'd.
4. Her

7 6                Covent Garden Drollery.
4-
Her frowns would sometimes put me into despair,
But her smiles did create me new bliss ;
Though my death had me seiz'd,
Yet if she were but pleas'd,
She could give me new life with a kiss.
5-
In fine, all perfections that ever were seen
In all beauties, in her did abound;
With Loves sweets mo£i divine,
Did my Philomell shine ;
Oh ! her Parrallel's not to be found.
6.
But mark! what false fortune unto me has done,
My delights were too great long to £tay,
For those sweets which she swore
Should encrease ever more,
In one moment all vanish'd away.
7-
For her faith she has broak; and denies me those joyes
Which in freedome, I oft have posse£l;
By her scorn's I'me betray'd,
And,

Covent Garden Drollery.                77
And, alass, I am made
The mo& wretched, who was the mo£l ble£i.
8.
With melancholly sighs I am tormented each day,
My discontents hourly, increase ;
My mind is perplext,
And my heart sore oppre£l,
And my soul will ne're be at peace.
9-
Therefore, oh you gods, I am firmly resolv'd,
Your power shan't my passion controule,
Fie dye for her sake,
And in death Fie make
A Love-offering to her of my Soul.
Prologue.

78                Covent Garden Drollery.
xtr x/r xtr xtr xxr xtr xtr xi? xtr xir x/r xtr xtr xtr xtr xtr xtr xtr xp xtr xtr w^^t^V^VW
Prologue.
To the Knight of the burning Petfle.
TF any here have ancient Records seen,
-■■Of AmadiS) or doughty Palmerin ;
Of Squire and Dwarf, and of enchanted Wood,
And taken true delight in Gyants blood.
Such we invite with confidence to laugh
At the £tout A6ls and Monuments of Rdph ;
Of Ralph, who humbly does each Lady greet,
And layes his Burning PeSlle at her feet.
This to the Learned ; it does now remain,
We descend upward to the vulgar Swain:
And gravely tell him, that our Fletchers wit,
Has here burlesqu'd all he himself had writ.
Burlesqu'd, that is, has turn'd to ridicule,
As one would say, has wisely play'd the fool.
Mock-love, mock-passion, that is £till to say,
He, as it were, has farcifi'd a Play,
This, Gallants, is that Play, which for your sake,
We now revive, and doubt not it will take.
For in our vertuous Age,
Not only every wit, Lampoons his brother,
But men are all burlesque to one another.

Covent Garden Drollery.
79
In Burgundy and Mant, the great ones rayle,
But their blind sides are found in Mum and Ale,
Therefore laugh on, and rally all you can,
For there's no Fop like to your absent man :
The world will laugh at what you do or say,
Then laugh you, for a clubs an equal lay,
As good fall on, since you are sure to pay.
Epilogue.
The Prologue dur£t not tell, before 'twas seen,
The Plot we had to swinge the Mayden Queen.
For had we, then, discover'd our intent,
The Fop, who writ it, had not giv'n consent.
Or the new peaching trick, at lea£t had shown,
And brought in others faults to hide his own.
That wit he has been by his betters taught,
When he's accus'd to shew another's fault;
When one wit's hunted hard, by joynt consent
Another claps betwixt and does prevent,
His death; for many Hares ftill foyl the scent.
Thus our poor Poet would have scap'd to day,
But from the heard, I singled out his Play.
Then heigh along with me------
Both great and small, you Poets of the Town,
And Nell will love you, or to run him down.
Pro-

8o
Covent Garden Drollery.
xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp xp
Prologue to Horace, spoken by the
Dutchess of Monmouth at
Court.
V|7"Hen Honour flourish'd ere for price 'twas sold
^ * When Rome was poor, and undebauch'd with
(gold.
That vertue which should to the world give Law
Firft under Kings, its Infant breath did draw:
And Horace^ who, his Soveraigns Champion fought
Its fir£t example to republiques taught.
Honour and Love, the Poets dear delight,
The field in which all Modern Muses fight;
Where gravely Rhyme, debates what's ju£t and fit,
And seeming contradiftions pass for witt.
Here in their native Purity fir£t grew,
E're they th' Adulterate arts of Stages knew.
This Martial £tory, which through France did come,
And there was wrought in great Corneliu's Loom,
Orindas matchless Muse to Brittain brought,
And Forreign Verse, our English Accents taught;
So soft that to our shame, we understand,
They could not fall, but from a Ladies hand.
Thus while a Woman, Horace did translate,
Horace did rise above a Roman Fate.
And

Covent Garden Drollery.                81
And by our Ladies he mounts higher yet,
While he is spoke above, what he is writ.
But his triumphant Honours, are to come
When, mighty Prince, he mu£t receive your Doom:
From all besides our Aftors have no fear,
Censure, and Witt, are beauties Vassals here.
And should they with Rebellion, tempt their rage,
Our Basilisks, could shout 'em from the Stage!
But that their Fate, would be too great to dye,
By bright Sabina's, or Camilla s Eye.
SONG.

82                Covent Garden Drollery.
SONG.
Qlnce Chris you my passion know,
^And every look my Love does show:
Since Intreft, which so long did sway.
To your soft Rule, at laft gives way,
A Slave to all the motions of your will,
Why would you ha' me Pine and Languish £till,
I know you cannot love to see
The many pains that torture me;
When at your Feet my self I lay,
You alwayes turn your Eyes away.
Beauty a softness from its nature takes,
Which cannot look upon the Wounds it makes.
In scorn you can no pleasure find,
For constant Love perverts your mind:
Nor do you think, while thus to one,
You give your charming self alone,
Much of your youth and beauty needs muft wa£l,
For there's no one can half their sweetness ta£i.
When you hereafter wiser grow,
And further joyes in Love shall know;
With what regret will you repent,
The

Covent Garden Drollery.                83
The time youVe in unkindness spent!
Tru£l me a thousand times you'l wish in vain,
To call those slighted Minutes back again.
Prologue to a revived Play.
OLd Playes like Mistresses, long since enjoy'd,
Long after please, whom they before had cloy 'd ;
For Fancy chews the Cudd on paSt delight,
And cheats it self to a new Appetite.
But then this second fitt comes not so Strong,
Like second Agues, neither fierce nor long:
What you have known before, grows sooner Stale,
And less provokes you, then an untold tale.
That but refreshes what before you knew,
But this discovers something that is new;
Hence 'tis, that at new Playes you come so soon,
Like Bride-grooms, hott to go to Bed ere noone!
Or, if you are detain'd some little space,
The Stinking Footman's, sent to keep your place.
But, when a Play's revived, you Stay and dine,
And drink till three, and then come dropping in;
As Husbands after absence, wait all day
And desently for Spouse, till bed time Stay!
So, ere the brethren's liberall fit was spent,\
The firSl wise Nonconformist under went \
With ease, and battend in imprisonment. J
G 2                               For

84                Covent Garden Drollery.
For greater gains, his zeal refus'd the less ;
Each day to him was worth a Diocess.
But he who now in hopes of equal gain,
Will needs be Pris'ner, tryes the trick in vain ;
He melts in durance half his Grease away.
To get like us, poor twenty Pounds a day.
To my friend^ Matter Tho. St. Serf.
T> Efore we saw thy Play, dear Torn, we thought
-*-*No Scotish Merchandize, was worth the Fraught;
But we will tru£t thy Country-men no more,
For you, we see, grow rich, as we grow poor.
You get the Bayes, while we get only Mocks,
As you got Prizes, while we got but Knocks :
We thought none Playes, but what were English made,
That wit, like Wool, had been our staple trade.
But thou haft found the trick (as others do,)
Us with our own materials to undoe ;
Henceforth we'l have a privy search decreed,
For every errant Muse that passes Tweed.
A file of Covenanters, shall ftop thee there,
And search thy Pack, for Anti-Kirkall ware.
Once, like a Pedler, they have heard thee brag,
How thou dide£t cheat their Sight, and save thy Crag;
When to the great Montross, under pretence.
Of godly bukes, thou brought^: intelligence.
But

Covent Garden Drollery.                85
But, hear ye, as a friend, let me advise,
Tru£fc not too far, that national disguise.
If thou art caught, no wit Grotisque can bribe 'em,
They'l never spare a man, that so can gibe 'em :
Nor is't th int'reft of us English Poets,
To suffer any but our selves to grow wits.
To show great Nature in Heroique £tory,
Or in the Comique, Power, and Flame, and Glory ;
Once and a way, we let you make us merry,
With the rare vertues, of the Coffee Berry.
But shall grow jealous of your Muse, and hate her,
When we are heftor'd on our own Theater.
And if a second time, you tread our Stage,
We, with the Kirk, against you muft ingage;
As two weak States, when they have struggled long,
Unite against a third, that grows too strong.
G3
SONG.
a*c*. •<s£»»iiitai#M4wdi!M*d

86                Covent Garden Drollery.
JJ\ 0\ J?k 4\ JJ\ JJ\ JT* jJ* JTk JJUTk &k 4\ jj~k rfUrk&l jTk &\ rf\ rf% jfk JTk &* JTk ufk jT* uTkjyik m
Epilogue spoken by the Lady Mary
Mordant, before the King and Queeo,
at Courty to the faithful! Shepheardess.
WHen Princes in distress, would peace implore.
They fir£t take care to choose th' Ambassador.
And think him fittest for a charge so great,
Who be£t can please that King with whom they treat.
Our Play they threatn'd with a tragique Fate,
I, Sir, am chose for this affair of State :
And, hope, what ever errors we confess,
You'l pardon to the young Ambassadress.
If not, though now these little Ladies are,
In no condition, to maintain a War;
Their beauties will in time grow up so strong,
That on your Court, they may revenge the wrong.
Prologue

Covent Garden Drollery.                87
Prologue to Albumazar.
TO say this Commedy, pleas'd long ago,
Is not enough to make it pass you now:
Yet gentlemen, your Ancestors had witt,
When few men censurd, and when fewer writ.
And Johnson of those few the be£t, chose this,
As the be£l modell of his mailer piece;
Subtle was got, by our Albumazar,
That AlchamiH by this Astrologer.
Here he was fashion'd, and I should suppose,
He likes my fashion well, that wears my Cloaths.
But Ben made nobly his, what he did mould,
What was anothere's Lead, became his Gold:
Like an unrighteous Conqueror he Raigns.
Yet Rules that well, which he unjustly gains.
But this our age, such Authours does afford,
As make whole Playes, and yet scarce write a word :
Who in this Anarchy of witt rob, all,
And what's their Plunder, their Possession call.
Who like bold Padders, scorn by night to prey,
But Rob by Sun-shine, in the face of day;
Who scarce the common Ceremony use,
Of Stand Sir, and deliver up your Muse.
But knock the Poet down ; and, with a grace,
Mount Pegasus, before the Owners face.
G 4                            Faith

88                Covent Garden Drollery.
Faith if you have such Country Toms abroad,
Tis time for all true men to leave that Road.
Yet it were modest, could it but be sed,
They £tript the living, but they rob the dead:
'Twill with the mummey of the Muses play,
And make love to 'em the ^Egyptian way.
Or as a Rhyming Authour would have sed,
Ioyn the dead living, to the living dead;
Yet such in Poetry, may claim some part,
They have the Licence, though they want the Art.
Such as in Sparta might for Laurels £tand,
Poets, not of the head, but of the hand :
They make their benefit of others studying,
Much like the meales of Politick, J^d?-Pudding.
Where Broth to claim, there's no one has the courage,
'Tis all his own, after he has spit i' th' Porridge:
But Gentlemen, y'are all concern'd in this,
You are in fault, for what they do a miss.
For they their Thefts, will undiscover'd think,
And dur£t not Steal, unless you please to wink:
Now should we Letters of reprizall seal,
These men write that, which no man else would £teale.
SONG.

Covent Garden Drollery.                89
%%%%%%%%%%%%%m$$m$%%$%%m
A SONG.
UPon yon pleasing Plain,
Alexis thought, fair Chris heart to gain ;
And therefore he unto her every day,
Did sing, and on his Pipe, would sweetly play.
Moft pleasing Tunes to give delight,
Unto this beauteous Nymph so bright,
She that had wounded him with her fair sight.
2.
But the obdurate Maid,
Nought but unkindness, to his sufferings paid ;
For when of love, he unto her did speak,
And's passion sigh'd, as if his heart would break.
Nothing prevaiFd 'twas all in vain,
She flew from him in proud disdain.
And left Alexis, sadly to complain.
3.
Then to the neighbouring Grove,
Poor Swain he went, and there his hopeless love
Alone

90                Covent Garden Drollery.
Alone he mourn'd, and in that gloomey shade,
Did grieve that he her hate and scorn was made ;
With pensive lookes, and arms a cross,
In Tears he did lament his loss,
To whom all Beauties in the world are Dross.
4-
Perplext a while he sate,
Upon the Ground, complaining of his Fate;
Against a Tree he gently laid his head,
In hope to sleep, but re£t from him was fled.
He then £iart up, and once more went
To her who caus'd his discontent,
To try if she would yet his Death prevent.
5-
Hard hearted Maid, said he,
Why do£t thou hate him, that so doats on thee,
My flock's I've brought, to feed with thine all day,
And we the while, in harmless sports did play.
But when my love, I did make known,
Then all my hopes too soon were gon,
Alass ! you left me to lament alone.
6.
Cruel, but yet mo£t fair,
Once more hear him, whom you have made despair.
Will

Covent Garden Drollery.
Will your severity ne're daign to give
One kind return of Love, and let me live ?
Here, at your Feet, behold I lye,
And here by Heaven, I vow to dye,
If you my passion £till with hate deny.
9*
But all his plaints were vain,
She proudly scornd to ease him of his pain :
Which when he saw nor Tears nor Prayers could move
Her heart with Pitty, ere to yeild him Love,
He sigh'd much more, and nought could speake,
But Cloris, with a voice so weak,
That, as he cal'd on her, his heart did break.
When Chris saw him dead,
She £tood amaz'd, her frighted spirits fled:
O're him she wept, and weeping she did say,
Stay dear Alexis, Cloris bids thee £tay.
Then fetch'd a sigh, and faintly cry'd,
Alexis, I will be thy Bride,
And as she spoke these words, fair Cloris dy'd.
SONG.
m#*rmmmmmi?Mi*..
<Diija<$$im§ttilg» j^. t „_^ _

92                Covent Garden Drollery.
SONG.
I led my Silvia to a Grove,
Where all the Boughs did shade us,
The Sun it self, though it had strove,
It could not have betray'd us.
The place secur'd from humane eyes,
No other fear alows,
But when the Winds do gently rise,
And kiss the yeilding Boughs.
Down there we sate upon the Moss,
And did begin to play
A thousand wanton tricks, to pass
The heat of all the day.
A many kisses I did give,
And she return'd the same,
Which made her willing to receive
That which I dare not name.
My greedy eyes no ayds requir'd,
To tell their amorous Tale :
On her that was already fir'd,
'Twas easie to prevail.
I did but kiss and claspe her round
Whilst they my thoughts expreft,
And

Covent Garden Drollery.
And laid her gently on the ground:
Oh ! who can guess the re&.
93
 
A Song to a Scotish tune.
/"^Ome my Phillis let us improve,

^^Both our joy of equal love,
Whilst we in yonder shady Grove,
Count Minutes by our kisses,
See the Flowers how sweetly they spread,
And each displayes his coloured head,
To make for us a fragrant Bed,
To practise o're new blisses :
The Sun it self with love does conspire,
And sends abroad his ardent fire,
And kindly seems to bid us retire,
And shade us from his Glory:
Then faireft come, and do not fear,
All that your Slave desires there
Is PhilHs, what you love to hear
Him say, that he does adore you.
2.
Ah ! PhilUs, if you love me so,
As you perswaded me long ago,
Why

94                Covent Garden Drollery.
Why should you now refuse to do,
What you so oft have vow'd me ?
Did I e're your bounty abuse,
Or your severest commands refuse ?
Nay, rather, chose to languish then to lose
The perfect respeft I ow'd to you,
Yet PkilliSy some reward is due,
To him, who dayly does renew
The passion which he has for you,
And is a faithfull Lover,
Then come, my dearest, be not shy,
Thou know& my heart, and my secresie
Wa£t not this oppertunity,
When none can our joyes discover.
3-
Phillis in vain you shed these tears,
Why do you blush, which speak your fears ?
There's none but your Amintas hears.
What means this pretty passion ?
Can you fear your favours will cloy
Those that the blessings do injoy ?
Oh, no ; such needless fears destroy :
This nicetie's out of fashion
When thou ha£t done, by Pan, I sware,
Thou wilt unto mine eyes appear,
A thousand times more charming and fair,
Then thou weart to my fir£t desire,
That smile was kind : and now thou'rt wise,

Covent Garden Drollery.                95
To throw away that coy disguise,
And by the vigor of thy eyes,
Declare thy youth and fire.
Song to a Scotish tune.
WHen Iemmy^ fir£t began to Love,
He was the finest Swain
That ever yet a flock had drove,
Or danc'd upon the Plain.
'Twas then that I, way's me poor heart,
My freedome threw away,
And finding sweets in every smart,
I could not say him nay.
And ever when he spoke of Love,
He would his eyes decline,
And every sigh, woud take a heart,
Gued faith, and why not mine ?
He'd press my Hand, and kiss it oft,
His silence spoke his flame,
And whilst he treated me thus soft;
I wisht him more to blame.
Sometimes to feed my flocks with him,
My Iemmy would invite me,
There he the gayest Songs would sing,
On purpose to delight me,
And

96                Covent Garden Drollery.
And Iemmy every grace displayed.
Which were enough, I trow.
To conquer any princely Maid :
So did he me I vow.
But now for Iemmy muft I mourn,
Who to the Wars mu£t go,
His Sheep-hook to a Sword mu£t turn ;
Alass ! what shall I do ?
His Bag-pipe into war-like sounds
Mu£fc now exchanged be,
Instead of Garlands, fearful! Wounds :
Then what becomes of me ?
Damon being asked a reason for Loveing.
pHilUs, you ask me why I do persue,
-* And Court no other Nymph but you;
And why with eyes, and sighes I do betray,
A passion which I dare not say:
'Tis cause I love, and if you ask me why,
With womens answers, I muft reply.
You ask me what Arguments I have to prove
That my unrest proceeds from Love:
You'l

Covent Garden Drollery.                97
You'l not beleive my passion, till I show
A better reason why tis so;
Then, Phillis, let this reason serve for one,
/ know / love, because my reasons gone.
You say, a love like mine mu£t needs declare
The objeft so belov'd, not fair;
That neither witt nor beauty in her dwell,
Whose lover can no reason tell:
Why 'tis he does adore, or why he burns;
PhilliSy let them give such that have returns.
For, by the self same reason, which you use,
Damon might justly you accuse :
Why do you scorn, and with a proud disdain,
Receive the Vowes, but slight the Swain ?
You say you cannot love, yet know no cause,
May / not prove my love, by your own Lawes ?
Am / not youthful, and as gay a Swain
As e're appear'd upon the Plain ?
Have / not courted you with all th' adress,
An amorous Shepheard could profess ?
To add to this, my Flocks and Heards, are great;
Yet this will scarce my happyness compleat.
Thus you no reason for your coldness give,
And tis but juft you should beleive ;
That all your beauty unadorn'd by art,
Have hurt, and not oblig'd my heart.
H                                  Be

98
Covent Garden Drollery.
Be kind to that, return my passion too,
And Fie give reason why I love you so.
SONG.
TX7"Hen reason ore my heart did sway,
* * Then subjeft passions did obey,
And freedom, £H11 I mo£t did crave,
Not thinking e're to be Loves slave;
Till he mo£t cunning by surprize,
Stole in, and fixt my wandring eyes.
2.
My reason then, by passion led,
With pleasing joys, my fancy fed ;
Which for a time, did so transcend,
I thought they ne're could have an end :
And nothing then, did grieve me more,
Then that I had not lov'd before.
3-
When at my freedome I did range,
My joy uncertainly did change !
My pleasures £till methoughts were scant,
And £till my joyes did something want;
Till in her center fixt by love,
Satiety of sweets I prove.
4. Bleft

Covent Garden Drollery.
99
4-
Ble& with loves chains, I thus did live,
But for it could no reason give :
My pleasures were too sweet to la£t,
And by disdain were soon o're ca£t.
Anothers flame her heart assaults,
Which prov'd her love to me was false.
5-
My love then scorn'd, dy'd with disgrace,
And reason once again took place ;
When reason comes, love mu£t depart,
Both ne're at once, liv'd in a heart:
Strange that I should so foolish prove,
And thus to be mislead by love.
SONG.
LOng did fair Phillis love a Swain,
Who, as 'twas thought, repaid again
With interest her kindness.
Their love's, but flocks, not equal were,
The only cause of all their fear ;
This prov'd god Cupids blindness.
2.
With equal flames, a while they burn,
When one, both did rejoyce or mourn ;
Their hearts so were fetter'd,
Yet a new love did him succeed,
Which prov'd the fir&, was but for need,
Though may be 'twas not better'd.
H2                             3. A

ioc              Covent Garden Drollery,
3-
A Gallant comes, (Gallants can do
Much with young Maids, and old ones too)
And lovingly accosts her;
The unjust Nymph, did court his flame,
More eagerly then e're the Swain
Did hers before he left her.
4-
The Swain forgot, the match is made,
With the new love ; though as 'twas said,
He had no mind to marry,
Hymen to light his Torch they call:
The Nymphs and Swains invited all,
To see him reach his Quarry.
5-
But providence the Marriage croft,
Iuft at the time the Bride-groome's loft,
When he shculd be a doing;
It coft her many sighs and tears,
With little joy, and many fears,
E're Hymen ends the woeing.
6.
This womans folly plainly shews,
Who ftill withdraw their smiles from those
Who love and moft affeft them ;
Which fortune on themselves return,
And commonly does make them burn
For those that moft negleft them.
7-
Some sorry were, but many smil'd,
And

Covent Garden Drollery.
101
And said the Nymph the Swain beguild,
Because he did not at her :
Some cry'd the plains he would desert,
Or that despair would break his heart;
But faith 'twas no such matter.
SONG.
TRue£l joy mu£t arise,
From a womans bright Eyes,
For there is the perfe£te£t bliss;
Till we can obtain,
Betwixt pleasure and pain,
The enjoyments that follow a Kiss.
2.
For Love after scorning,
And joy after mourning,
Are alwayes far better accepted.
Then that love which we gain,
Without trouble or pain,
From a Mis, who us never negle£ted.
3-
For when with a home-touch,
She is tickled so much,
That it makes her cry, oh, it does hurt me :
Oh ! oh ; then does succeed,
Those true pleasures indeed,
Which what Paradise is does in£lru£l me.
H 3                        SONG.

102              Covent Garden Drollery.
SONG.
T^Ond man that hopes to catch a face,
■*-                                       Whose every grace
Will strike thy heart with an amazing terror,
Her beauties shine
So like divine,
That they'l convince thee of thy foolish error.
2.
Mark but that glance, which now did fly
From her bright Eye,
And tell me then, can any Mortal draw,
A Line by art
Like that fierce Dart,
Which all the subjeft world can keep in awe ?
3-
Hark to that heavenly voice, which can
Transport a man
Beyond the raptures of the heavenly Sphears ;
As soon you may
Create a day,
Or sweet Aurora's beauties Lymn, as hers.
4-
Leave then thy bold attempt to Fate,
Who mu£t Create
New fancy, which mu£t heavenly power receive;
For grant that here,
Apelles were,
She, as his fruites the Birds, would him deceive.

Covent Garden Drollery.               103
S&||^R|?^^iiWiiiWf?f??
SONG.
NO justice he had, that fir£l did approve
To ca£t down high Honour, and setup fond Love.
Though love we confess, has the antienter £late,
Yet old things we see, grow mo£l out of date.
2,
Love after injoyment, does seldome prove good,
But Honour, for ever, does raign in the blood:
That, ju£t like the Smoke, does quickly expire,
But this does, for ever, remain like Fire.
3-
Love mu£t unto Honour, precedency give,
That dyes with the Subjeft, when Honour does live:
'Tis that that keeps love out of the Duft,
For love without honour, at be£l, is Luft.
4-
To be scorned in Love, is a mo£t cruel Fate,
And thus we prove Honour, the happier £tate:
For old things we know, mu£t give place unto new;
Then ca£l back fond Love, and give Honour her due,
H4                                 A

104              Covent Garden Drollery,
A Countrey Dialogue.
Will
GOod Morrow Dolly, I Salute thee,
After our own Country way,
Doll.
Now, by my Maiden-head Will, I thank thee;
And good Morrow to thee I say.
Will
Your Maiden-head, you pretty Dowdy,
What a simpering look thou haft!
Methinks thou showft a pretty maiden
In all parts, below thy waft.
Doll
And why below my waft, I pray you ?
There Fme cover'd with my Cloaths,
Will
I, but I once saw something naked,
Made my Teeth hack in my Hose.
Oh, Doll, I mean my Occilliaries,
Such geer I think thou ne're did see,
Things that will please thee without measure
And these, poor Rogue, Fie give to thee;
For hark thee, Doll, Fme come to woe thee,
Thou knowft my mind and what I meane,
Tie

Covent Garden Drollery.              105
Fie give thee that shall fill thy belly,
Wait thou ne're so poor or leane;
Fde fain be married, prithee tell me,
When shall be our Wedding day ?
Doll
Firft let me know how well you love me:
Then you shall hear what I will say.
Will.
I love thee, Dolly, more, and better,
Then our Browny loves her Calf;
Oh, Doll, my tongue can never utter
All my love to thee, nor half.
'Tis even such, my dearest Dolly,
Though I not angry am at all,
That with my teeth, I could tare from thee
All thy Cloathes, thy Smock and all.
Oh love me then, thou pretty Doxey,
Which am thy true and faithful Lover;
Quench thou my fire which else will burn,
And straight way make my Pot run over.
Doll.
Well, if your love be so exceeding,
As you do protect and say,
I can no longer then deny you,
But yeild to love without delay,
And we'l be married my dear hony,
To morrow morn with all my heart,
Will
I am glad we have agreed so quickly,
And from thee Fie never part.
Doll

i
106              Covent Garden Drollery.
Boll.
Prethee kiss to bind the bargain,
Thou shalt be all my love and joy;
I long my dear till we are Married,
That we might alwayes kiss and toy.
Will
Kiss thee my Dolly ? I faith will I:
Oh! there is a Breath mo£t sweet,
But yet tis something strong at parting,
And doth smel like linking Feet.
Doll.
Kiss me again, again I pray thee,
Oh there, oh there ; Oh that! oh that!
Will.
Zounds, and she be so mad of Kissing,
She'l run ftark mad of you know what.
Doll.
What time i' th morning wilt thou fetch me ?
Or if I shall come to thee ?
Name but the time, and Fie wait on thee,
Thou shalt not £tay one jot for me.
Will.
No no, Fie fetch thee but be ready,
Leaft the time us over-slip,
Doll.
Oh for remembrance let me hug thee,
And take my farewell of thy Lip.
Ah me ! that kiss as sweet as Hony,
Makes me long and much desire,
To ta£t those sweets I oft heard on
Which
i

Covent Garden Drollery.              lof
Which are rais'd by Cupids Fire.
Tie straight go home and make me ready,
Then will I wait till you do call.
Will
Do, for to morrow night, I tell thee,
We will play at uptailes all;
We'l dance a dance, I faith shall please thee :
Up and down, and never miss,
Instead of turning we'l keep dancing,
And when we have done then we will kiss;
Thou'dft wish that thou might£t dance for ever,
Oh 'twill give thee such content,
Boll
I shall not sleep for thinking on thee,
And of our next nights merriment.
But now we know each other's meaning,
Let's prepare against the night,
I may enjoy those sports thou talk£t of,
Which will yeild me such delight.
Condon's

io8              Covent Garden Drollery.
Coridon's Contemplation.
WHen Sue and Moll a milking went.
Then Will and I hied thither,
And as they milk'd by them we lay.
Makeing our Love's together.
2.
He complemented his dear Moll,
And so did I my Sue :
Oh ! never yet was men so ble£t,
With th* love of two so true.
For when their milking they had done,
Then did begin our bliss;
We lay upon the Ground and talk'd,
We tumbled and did kiss.
4-
Till two long hours was quickly spent,
In such sweet harmless pleasure,
As Maids will to their Sweet-hearts give,
When they have time and leasure.
5-
With Sillibubs, with Cake and Cheese,
We eat and drank our fill,
Which these poor Rogues had brought with them,
For me and honest Will.
6. Moll,

Covent Garden Drollery,               109
6.
Molly gave to Will a new lac'd Band,
She bought it at our Fair:
It's fellow pretty Sue had got.
And gave it me to wear.
7-
But now poor Maid's they mu£t go home,
No longer dur£t they slay,
Moll kiss't her Will> and Sue kiss't me,
Then sighing went away.
8.
Oh ! such true Love's, was never heard on,
Nor ever yet was seen,
In all the Country far and neer,
As they to us have been.
9-
Therefore at th' Wake's we'l carry them,
Where ere the Fidlers play,
We'l give 'em Sider, Ale and Cakes,
And dance with none but they.

no              Covent Garden Drollery.
The Wood-Man s Song.
THis way, this way, come and hear,
You that hold these pleasures dear;
Fill your ears with our sweet sound,
Whilst we melt the frozen Ground.
2.
This way come, make haft, oh fair,
Let your clear eyes guild the Aire:
Come and bless us with your sight,
This way, this way, seek delight.

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