and Sheer thy Sheep,
And watch all Night thy Flocks, to keep;
Thou shalt no more be lull'd asleep,
By me mistaken Maid.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ Jeremy Clark.

[Music]

While the Lover is thinking,
With my Friend I'll be Drinking
And with Vigour pursue my Delight;
While the Fool is designing,
His fatal confining,
With _Bacchus_ I'll spend the whole Night:
With the God I'll be Jolly,
Without Madness or Folly.
Fickle Woman to Marry Implore,
Leave my Bottle and Friend,
For so Foolish an end,
When I do, may I never Drink more.

_A Health to the_ TACKERS.

[Music]

Here's a Health to the Tackers, my Boys,
But mine A----se for the Tackers about;
May the brave _English_ Spirits come in,
And the Knaves and _Fanaticks_ turn out:
Since the _Magpyes_ of late, are confounding the State,
And wou'd pull our Establishments down;
Let us make 'em a Jest, for they Shit in their Nest,
And be true to the Church and the Crown.

Let us chuse such Parliament Men
As have stuck to their Principles tight;
And wou'd not their Country betray
In the Story of _Ashby_ and _White_:
Who care not a T----d, for a _Whig_, or a Lord,
That won't see our Accounts fairly stated;
For _C----ll_ ne'er fears, the Address of those Peers,
Who the Nation of Millions have Cheated.

The next thing adviseable is,
Since _Schism_ so strangely abounds;
To oppose e'ery Man that's set up
By _Dissenters_, in Corporate Towns:
For _High-Church_, and _Low-Church_, has brought us to no _Church_,
And Conscience so bubbl'd the Nation;
For who is not still for Conformity Bill,
Will be surely a R---- on Occasion.

_A_ SONG.

_Set by Mr._ ANTHONY YOUNG.

[Music]

Since _Caelia_ only has the Art,
And only she can Captivate,
And wanton in my Breast;
All other Pleasure I despise,
Than what are from my _Caelia's_ Eyes,
In her alone I'm blest.

Whene'er she Smiles, new Life she gives,
And happy, happy who receives,
From her Inchanting Breath;
Then prithee _Caelia_ smile once more,
Since I no longer must adore,
For when you frown 'tis Death.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

Ah! how lovely sweet and dear,
Is the kind relenting Fair,
Who Reprieve us in Despair;
Oh! that thus my Nymph wou'd say,
Come, come my Dear thy Cares repay,
Be Blest my Love, be mine to Day:
_Come, come my dear, thy Cares repay,_
_Be blest my Love, be mine to Day._

_A_ SONG. _Sun