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Fools grant whate'er ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are slaves.
Oh curs'd effects of civil hate,

In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state!
Still when the lust of tyrant pow'r succeeds,
Some Athens perishes, or some Tully bleeds.

Chorus of Youths and Virgins.

Semichorus.

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H tyrant love ! haft thou pofleft

The prudent, learn'dand virtuous breat?

Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,
And arts but foften us to feel thy flame,

Love, soft intruder, enters here,
But entring learns to be fincere.
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,

And Brutus tenderly reproves.
Why, virtue, doft thou blame desire,

Which nature has imprest?
Why, nature, doft thou foones fire.

The mild and gen'rous breaft?

Chorus:

Chorus.

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Love's purer flames the Gods approve;
The Gods, and Brutus bend to love:

Brutus for absent Portia fighs,
And sterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.

What is loose love? a transient gust,
Spent in a sudden storm of luft;
A vapour fed from wild desire,
A wandring, felf-consuming fire.
But Hymen's flames like fars unite;

And burn for ever one;
Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the fun.

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Semichorus.
Oh source of ev'ry social tye,
United wish, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,
As son, as father, brother, husband, friend?

Whether his hoáry fire he spies,
While thousand grateful thoughts arise;.
Or meets his spouse's fonder eye;
Or views his smiling progeny:

What

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What tender passions take their turns,

What home-felt raptures move?
His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,

With rev'rence, hope, and love..

Chorus

Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmizes,
False oaths, false tears, deceits, disguises,
Dangers, doubts, delays, surprizes;

Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine:
Purest love's unwafting treasure:
Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure;
Days of ease, and nights of pleasure;

Sacred Hymen! these are thine,

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FOUR

FOUR SONGS

Written in 1683

By his Grace the Duke of BUCKINGHAM:

order to be sung as Chorus's between the Acts of a Play of

Shakespear’s that was altered. First Song after the end of the

first Act.

Chorus of free Citizens of Rome.

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Hither is ancient virtue gone?

What is become of justice now.?

That vapour, which so bright, has shone, And with the wings of conquest flown, Nust to a haughty master bow:

Who

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Who with our toil, our blood, and all we have befide, Gorges his ill-got pow'r, his humour, or his pride.

He frankly does his life expose:

So will a lyon or a bear;
What comfort call that be to those,

Who more his vain ambition fear?

How ftupid wretches we appear; Who round the world, for wealth and empire roam, And never, never think what flaves we are at home?

Did men for this together join,

Quitting the free wild life of nature? What beast but man did e'er combine

For setting up his fellow-creature,

And of two mischiefs chuse the greater? Oh! rather than be flaves to false and worthless men! Give us our wildness and our woods, our butts and

caves again.

There secure from lawless fway,
Out of pride, or envy's way,

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