A TABLE of the SONGS. ACT I. AIR. I. The manners of the great affect. II. What can wealth. III. He that weds a beauty. IV. My confcience is of courtly mold. VI. She who hath felt a real pain. VII. Farewel, farewel, all hopes of bliss. Page II 13 15 16 17 18 19 20 IX. Iwill have my bumours, I'll please all my 22 X. When billows come breaking on the ftrand. 23 XI. When a woman jealous grows. XII. When kings by their buffing. XIII. The crow or daw thro' all the year. XIV. How can you be fo teazing. ACT XXVII. I hate thofe coward tribes. XXIX. When I'm great, and flush of treasure. XVIII. Better to doubt. XX. Love now is nought but art. XXI. As pilgrims thro' devotion. XXII. Why did you spare him? XXIII. Sleep, Ob, Sleep! XXIV. Of all the fins that are money-fupplying. XXV. By women won. XXVI. Woman's like the flatt'ring ocean. XXVIII. Cheer up, my lads, let us push on the fray. 41 31 XIX. Abroad after miffes most husbands will roam. 32 33 35 II. 36 ibid. 37 39 ibid. 40 ibid. 42 43 XXX. Shall I not be bold when honour calls. XXXI. How many men have found the skill. XXXII. Fine women are devils, complete in their way, ib. XXXIII. Tho' different paffions rage by turns. 45 XXXIV. AIR XXXIV. The world is always jarring. XXXVI. We never blame the forward fwain. : XXXIX. If husbands fit unfteady. XLIII. Honour calls me from thy arms. Page 45 47 48 ibid. 49 50 51 52 53 54 : XLIV. Honour plays a bubble's part. XLV. When ambition's ten years toils. 55 55 XLVI. Defpair leads to battle, no courage fe great. 57 XLVIII. The fportfmen keep hawks, &c. A C T III. XLIX. What man can on virtue or courage repose. LIV. We the fword of juftice drawing. LV. Know then, war's my pleasure. LVIX. The foldiers, who by trade muft dare. LX. When right or wrong's decided. LXI. All crimes are judg'd like fornication. LXII. All friendship is a mutual debt. LXIII. Can words exprefs the pain. LXIV. The modeft lily, like the maid. LXV. Whilft I gaze in fond defiring. LXVI. The fex, we find. 58 60 61 63 ib. 66 ib. 67 68 69 ib. 70 71 72 73 74 75 -ib. 76 77 LXVII. The flag, when chas'd all the long day. LXVIII. My heart forebodes he's dead. LXIX. Why that languish. 78 79 -80 LXX. Frail is ambition, how weak the foundation. ib. LXXI. Juftice long forbearing. 81 |