the Heart that I sue for is yours,
Who all other Powers disdain:
Like a _Goddess_ you Absolute reign,
You alone 'tis can save or kill;
To whom else then should I complain,
Since my fate must depend on your will.

_The Coy Lass dress'd up in her best Commode and Top-knot._

[Music]

Do not rumple my Top-knot,
I'll not be kiss'd to Day;
I'll not be hawl'd and pull'd about,
Thus on a Holy-day:
Then if your Rudeness you don't leave,
No more is to be said;
See this long Pin upon my Sleeve,
I'll run up to the Head:
And if you rumple my head Gear,
I'll give you a good flurt on the Ear.

Come upon a Worky-day,
When I have my old Cloaths on;
I shall not be so nice nor Coy,
Nor stand so much upon:
Then hawl and pull, and do your best,
Yet I shall gentle be:
Kiss hand, and Mouth, and feel my Breast,
And tickle to my Knee:
I won't be put out of my rode,
You shall not rumple my Commode.

_A_ SONG _in the Dramatick_ OPERA _of_ KING ARTHUR. _Written by Mr._
DRYDEN.

[Music]

Fairest Isle, all Isles excelling,
Seat of pleasures, and of Love;
_Venus_ here, will chuse her dwelling,
And forsake her _Cyprian Grove_.

_Cupid_ from his fav'rite Nation,
Care and Envy will remove;
Jealousy that poisons Passion,
And Despair that dies for Love.

Gentle murmurs sweet complaining,
Sighs that blow the fire of Love;
Soft Repulses, kind Disdaining,
Shall be all the Pains you prove.

Every Swain shall pay his Duty,
Grateful every Nymph shall prove;
And as these excel in Beauty,
Those shall be renown'd for Love.

_A_ SONG _in the Comedy call'd the_ (Wives Excuse: _Or_, Cuckolds make
themselves.) _Sung by Mrs._ BUTLER.

[Music]

Hang this whining way of Wooing,
Loving was design'd a sport;
Sighing, talking without doing,
Makes a sily Idol court:
Don't believe that Words can move her,
If she be not well inclin'd;
She herself must be the Lover,
To perswade her to be kind:
If at last she grants the Favour,
And consents to be undone;
Never think your Passion gave her,
To your wishes, but her own.

_A_ SONG _in the Opera call'd the_ (Fairy Queen,) _Sung by Mr._ PATE.

[Music]

Here's the Summer sprightly, gay,
Smiling, wanton, fresh and fair:
Adorn'd with all the Flowers of _May_,
Whose various sweets perfume the Ai