broken scraps,
But Victuals from my
Trencher.

So honest _Drunkard_
now adieu,
Thy Praise no longer
I'll pursue,
But still my Love is
to thee:
And when thy Life is
gone and spent,
These Lines shall be thy
Monument,
And shall much Service
do thee.

_A_ SONG _Sung by Mrs._ AYLIFF _in the Play call'd_ Love Triumphant:
_Or_, Nature will Prevail, _Sett by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL.

[Music]

How happy's the Husband, how happy's the Husband,
Whose Wife has been try'd, has been try'd,
Not damn'd to the Bed, not damn'd to the Bed of an
ignorant Bride;
Secure of what's left, secure of what's left, he ne'er
misses the rest,
But where there's enough, enough, enough, but where
there's enough, supposes a Feast:
So foreknowing the Cheat,
He escapes the Deceit;
And in spight of the Curse he resolves, he resolves to
be blest.
And in spight of the Curse he resolves, he resolves to
be blest.
He resolves to be blest, he resolves, he resolves to
be blest.
If Children are blessings, his comfort's the more,
Whose Spouse has been known to be fruitful before;
And the Boy that she brings ready made to his Hand,
May stand him in stead for an Heir to his Land:
Shou'd his own prove a Sot,
When 'tis lawfully got
As when e'er it is so, if it won't I'll be hang'd.

_A New_ SONG, _to the Tune of the Old Batchelor._

[Music]

If ever you mean to be kind,
To me the Favour, the Favour allow;
For fear that to Morrow should alter my Mind,
Oh! let me now, now, now,
If in Hand then a Guinea you'll give,
And swear by this kind Embrace;
That another to Morrow, as you hope to live,
Oh! then I will strait unlace:
For why should we two disagree,
Since we have, we have opportunity.

_A_ SONG, _Set to Musick by Mr._ Will. Richardson.

[Music]

I know her false, I know her base,
I know that Gold alone can move;
I know she Jilts me to my Face,
And yet good Gods, and yet good Gods I know I Love.

I see too plain and yet am Blind,
Wou'd think her true, while she forsooth;
To me and to my Rival's kind,
Courts him, courts me, courts him, courts me, and Jilts us both.

_A_ Scotch SONG.

[Music]

Fye _Jockey_ never prattle more so like a _Loon_,
No Rebel e'er shall gar my Heart to Love:
_Sawney_