return'd again;
Long delay you know breeds danger,
And to Lovers breadeth pain:
The Nymph said then, above all Men,
Still welcome Shepherd Morn and Noon,
The Shepherd prays, _Dulcina_ says,
Shepherd I doubt thou'rt come too soon.

When that bright _Aurora_ blushed,
Came the Shepherd to his dear;
Pretty Birds most sweetly warbled,
And the Noon approached near:
Yet still away the Nymph did say,
The Shepherd he fell in a Swoon;
At length she said, be not afraid,
Forgo me, _&c._

With grief of Heart the Shepherd hasted
Up the Mountains to his Flocks;
Then he took a Reed and piped,
Eccho sounded thro' the Rocks:
Thus did he play, and wish'd the Day,
Were spent, and Night were come e'er Noon;
The silent Night, Love's delight,
I'll go to Fair _Dulcina_ soon.

Beauties darling, fair _Dulcina_,
Like to _Venus_ for her Love,
Spent away the Day in Passion,
Mourning like the Turtle-Dove:
Melodiously, Notes low and high,
She warbled forth this doleful Tune;
Oh come again sweet Shepherd Swain,
Thou can'st not be with us too soon.

When as _Thetis_ in her place,
Had receiv'd the Prince of light;
Came in _Coridon_ the Shepherd,
To his Love and Heart's delight:
Then _Pan_ did play, the Wood-Nymphs they
Did skip and dance to hear the Tune;
_Hymen_ did say 'tis Holy-day,
Forgo me now, come to me soon.

_The Scolding Wife._

[Music]

Suppose a Man does all he can,
To unslave himself from a scolding Wife;
He can't get out, but hops about,
Like a Marry'd bird in the Cage of Life:
She on Mischief bent is ne'er content,
Which makes the poor Man cry out,
Rigid fate, Marriage State,
No reprieve but the Grave, oh 'tis hard Condition.

Come I'll tell you how this Wife to bow,
And quickly bring her to her last;
Your Senses please, indulge your ease,
But resist no joy and each humour taste,
Then let her squal, and tear and bawl,
And with whining cry her Eyes out,
Take a Flask, double Flask,
Whip it up, sip it up, that's your Physician.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

We merry Wives of _Windsor_,
Whereof you make your Play,
And act us on your Stages,
In _London_ Day by Day:
Alass it doth not hurt us,
We care not what you do;
For all you scoff, we'll sing and laugh,
And yet be Honest too.

Alass we are good Fellows,
We h