and Covetous, Beaus and Bullies,
Like one o'your musing Melanchollies,
I cry for their Ill's, and laugh at their Follies,
_Which no Body can deny_.

LUCINDA _has the Devil and all. By Mr._ H. Hall.

[Music]

_Lucinda_ has the de'el and all, the de'el and all, the de'el and
all,
Of that bright Thing we Beauty call;
But if she won't come to my Arms,
What care I, why, what care I, what, what care I for all her Charms?
Beauty's the Sauce to Love's high Meat,
But who minds Sauce that must not Eat:
It is indeed a mighty Treasure,
But in using lies the Pleasure;
Bullies thus, that only see't,
Damn all the Gold, damn all the Gold, all, all the Gold in
_Lombard-street_.

_Queen_ ELIZABETH'S _Farewel_.

[Music]

I'll tell you all, both great and small,
I tell you all truly;
That we have cause, and very great cause,
For to lament and cry,
Fye, Oh! fye, oh! fye, oh! fye!
Fye on thee cruel Death!
For thou hast ta'en away from us!
Our Queen _Elizabeth_.

Thou mayst have taken other Folks,
That better might be mist;
And have let our Queen alone,
Who lov'd no Popish Priest:
In Peace she rul'd all this Land,
Beholding unto no Man,
And did the Pope of _Rome_ withstand,
And yet was but a Woman.

A Woman said I? nay, that is more,
Than any one can tell;
So Fair she was, so Chast she was,
That no one knew it well!
With that, from _France_ came _Monsieur_ o'er,
A purpose for to Wooe her;
Yet still she liv'd and Dy'd a Maid,
Do what they could unto her.

She never acted any Ill thing,
Which made her Conscience prick her;
Nor never would submit to him,
That call'd is Christ's Vicar:
But rather chose couragiously,
To fight under Christ's Banner;
'Gainst _Pope_ and _Turk_, and King of _Spain_,
And all that durst withstand her.

But if that I had _Argus's_ Eyes,
They were too few to Weep;
For our Queen _Elizabeth_,
That now is fall'n asleep:
Asleep indeed, where she shall rest,
Until the Day of Doom:
And then she shall rise unto the Shame
Of the great Pope of _Rome_.

_The same in_ LATIN.

_Vobis magnis parvis dicam,
Et sum veredicus;
Offerri causam maximam,
Esse in tristibus,
Vae tibi mors! malum tibi!
Pro mortem tetricam!
Tu enim nobis dempsisti,
Reginam_ Elizam.

_Poteras plure