DY _Drinking the Waters, The Words by Sir_ GEORGE ETHERIGE.
_Set by Mr._ JAMES HART.

[Music]

_Phillis_ lay aside your Thinking,
Youth and Beauty shou'd be Gay,
Laugh and talk, and mind your Drinking:
Whilst we pass the Time away,
Laugh and talk, and mind your Drinking,
Whilst we pass the Time away.

They ought only to be pensive,
Who dare not their Grief declare,
Lest their story be offensive,
But still languish in Despair,
Lest their, _&c._

Yet what more torments your Lovers,
They are Jealous, they obey,
One whose Restless Minds discovers,
She's no less a Slave than they,
One whose, _&c._

_The Lascivious Lover and the coy Lass._

[Music]

Pish fye, you're rude Sir,
I never saw such idle fooling;
You're grown so lewd Sir,
So debauch'd I hate your ways;
Leave, what are you doing?
I see you seek my ruin,
I'll cry out, pray make no delay,
But take your Hand away;
Ah! good Sir, pray Sir, don't you do so,
Never was I thus abus'd so,
By any Man, but you alone,
Therefore Sir, pray begone.

_Advice to a Miser. Set by Mr._ James Graves.

[Music]

Retire old Miser, and learn to be wiser,
In looking o'er Books ne'er spend all thy Time;
But rather be thinking, of roaring and drinking,
For by those to Promotion thou'lt speedily climb.

Then prithee be Jolly, desert this thy Folly,
Make welcome thy Friends, and ne'er repine;
For when thou art hurl'd into the next World,
Thy Heir I'll engage it in Splendor will shine.

When thy Breath is just vanish'd, his care will be banisht,
And scarce will he follow thy Corps to the Grave;
Then be cautious and wary, for nought but Canary,
He's a Fool that for others himself do's enslave.

_A_ SONG _in the Play call'd_, Rule a Wife and have Wife. _Set by Mr._
HENRY PURCELL. _Sung by Mrs._ HUDSON.

There's not a Swain on the Plain,
Wou'd be blest like me,
Oh! cou'd you but, cou'd you but, cou'd you but, on me smile;
But you appear so severe,
That trembling with fear,
My heart goes pit a pat, pit a pat, pit a pat, all the while.

If I cry must I die, you make no reply,
But look shy, and with a scornful Eye,
Kill me by your cruelty;
Oh! can you be, can you be, can you be, can you be,
can you be, can you be, can you be, can you, can you,
can you be too hard to me.

_A_ SONG _in the Play call'd the_ LANCASHIR