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النشر الإلكتروني
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His word,
Though absurd,
Must be law.
Even Fate,

Though so great,
Must not prate;
His bald pate
Jove would cuff.
He's so bluff,

For a straw.

Cow'd deities,
Like mice in cheese,

To stir must cease

Or gnaw.

Jup. [Rising.] Immortals, you have heard your plaintiff sovereign,

And culprit Sol's high crimes. Shall we, who
govern,

Brook spies upon us? Shall Appollo trample
On our commands? We'll make him an exam-
ple!

As for you, Juno, curb your prying temper, or
We'll make you, to your cost, know-we're your
emperor.

Juno. I'll take the law. [To Jur.] My proctor, with a summons,

Shall cite you, sir, t' appear at Doctor's Com

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Think not, lewd Jove,

Thus to wrong my chaste love;

For spite of your rakehelly godhead,

By day and by night,

Juno will have her right,

Nor be of dues nuptial defrauded.

I'll ferrit the haunts

Of your female gal'ants ;

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low,

Nor doubt I, with my voice, guitar, and person,
Among the nymphs to kick up some diversion.
Sil. Whom have we here? a sightly clown!
-and sturdy;

In vain you in darkness enclose them; Hum! plays, I see, upon the hurdy-gurdy.
Your favourite jades,

I'll plunge to the shades,

Or into cows metamorphose them.

Jup. Peace, termagant!-I swear by Styx, our

thunder

Shall hurl him to the earth-Nay, never wonder,
I've sworn it, gods.

Apollo. Hold, hold! have patience,
Papa-No bowels for your own relations?

AIR.

eoy your friends advised,

Too harsh, too hasty dad!

Maugre your bolts, and wise head,
The world will think
you mad.

Seems out of place-a stranger--all in tatters;
I'll hire him—he'll divert my wife and daugh-

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For here they skip,

And there they trip,

Fa la la !

Giddy maids,

With three crowns, your standing wages,

You shall daintily be fed;

Bacon, beans, salt beef, cabbages,
Butter-milk, and oaten-bread.

Fa la la!

Come strike hands, you'll live in clover,

When we get you once at home;

And when daily labour's over,

We'll all dance to your strum strum.

Pol. I strike hands, I take your offer, Farther on Imay fare worse; Zooks, 1 can no longer suffer, Hungry guts, and empty purse.

Fa la la!

Fa la la!

Sil. Do, strike hands; 'tis kind I offer;
Pol. I strike hands, and take your offer;
Sil. Farther seeking you'll fare worse;
Pol. Farther on I may fare worse.
Sil. Pity such a lad should suffer,
Pol. Zooks, I can no longer suffer,
Sil, Hungry guts, and empty purse.
Pol. Hungry guts, and empty purse.

Fa la la!

[Exeunt, dancing and singing.

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And this and that way

Poor silly jades,

sidle.

All after men are gadding:

They flirt pell-mell,

Their train to swell,

To coxcomb, coxcomb adding :

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For his or your work, I'm brisk and handy.
Daph. A sad cheat else-

Mys. What you, you jack-a-dandy!

AIR.

Pol. Pray, goody, please to moderate the rancour of your tongue;

Why flash those sparks of fury from your eyes? Remember, when the judgment's weak, the prejudice is strong.

A stranger why will you despise ?
Ply me,
Try me,

Prove, ere you deny me:
If you cast me

Off, you blast me,
Never more to rise.

Mys. Sirrah! this insolence deserves a drubbing.

Nysa. With what sweet temper he bears all her snubbing! [Aside,

Sil. Oons! no more words -Go, boy, and

get your dinner.

Fie! why so cross-grain'd to a young beginner? Nysa. So modest!

Daph. So genteel!

Sil. [To MYSIS.] Not pert, nor lumpish. Mys. Would he were hanged!

Nysa. La! mother, why so frumpish? Daph.

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Mid. I've heard of that Pol's tricks, of-his sly tampering,

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How the world wags: so he gets drink and rittle,

To fling poor Pan, but I'll soon send him scam- Hoa, master Pan !-Gad, you've trod on a thistle!

pering.

You may pack up your all, sir, and go whistle.

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The wenches have turned tail-to yon buck | Mum-snug's the word-I'll lead her such a

ranter :

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dance

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He's as tight a lad to see to,
As e'er stept in leather shoe,
And, what's better, he'll love me, too,
And to him I'll prove true blue.

Though my sister cast a hawk's eye,
I defy what she can do,
He o'erlooked the little doxy,
I'm the girl he means to woo.

Hither I stole out to meet him,

He'll, no doubt, my steps pursue; If the youth prove true, I'll fit him; If he's false-I'll fit him too.

Enter POL.

Pol. Think o' the devil-'tis said,

He's at your shoulder

This wench was running in my head,
Aud pop-behold her!

AIR.

Lovely nymph, assuage my anguish;
At your feet a tender swain
Prays you will not let him languish,
One kind look would ease his pain.
Did you know the lad who courts you,
He not long need sue in vain;
Prince of song, of dance, of sports-you
Scarce will meet his like again.

Daph. Sir, you're such an olio,

Of perfection in folio,

No damsel can resist you:
Your face so attractive,
Limbs so supple and active,
That, by this light,

At the first sight,

I could have run and kissed you.

AIR.

If you can caper as well as you modulate,

With the addition of that pretty face, Pan, who was held by our shepherds a god o' late, Will be kicked out, and you set in his place.

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