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FLATTERING hopes the mind deceiving
Easy faith too often cheat, Woman, fond and all believing
Loves and hugs the dear deceit.
Noisy shew of pomp and riches,
Cupid's trick to catch the fair, Lowly maids too oft bewitches,
Flattery is the beauty's snare.
WHAT's all the pomp of gaudy courts,
But vain delights and jingling toys, While pleasure crowns your rural sports
With calm content, and tranquil joys.
AIR XXI A
RETURN, fweet lafs, to flacks and twains, Y H'N
The court has only tinsel toys,"* "vy 9t' yng 99.9H
polis em Na ir But rural joys are ever new,
u Pragu zor.} b'A While nymphs are kind, and shepherds true.' ** B'w
AGAIN in rustic weeds array'd,
The birds shall strain their little throats,
Thy hands shall pluck, to grace my bow's,
A IR XXII.A
WHY should I now, my love, complain,
Hence springs the purple tide of health,
The pride of dress, the pomp of shew,
NO doubt but your fool's-cap has known
His highness obligingly kind,
Was e'er such a cuckoldy hind ?
To be fare, like a good-natur'd fpoufe,
And I see them sprout out of your head.
To keep your wife virtuous and chaste
The court is a wonderful school, - My Lord you've an excellent taste.
- And, son, you're a cuckoldy fool.
If your lady should bring you an heir,
The blood will flow rich in his veins, Many thanks to my Lord for his care
You dog, I could knock out your brains. To