Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/128

 Then you'll know what, then you'll know, what 'tis I mean. He. However, lose not present bliss, But now we're alone, let's kiss: But now we're alone let's kiss, let's kiss. She. My Breasts do so heave, so heave, so heave, He. My Heart does so pant, pant, pant; She. There's Something, something, something more we want, There's Something, something, something more we want.

The Happy Country Gentleman; a New.

The Words made to a pretty Italian Air: Sung by Nicolini, in the opera of Rinaldo. Il tricerbero humiliato, &c.

ALL the World's in Strife and hurry, And the Lord knows when 'twill cease; Some for Interest, some for Glory, Tho' their Tongues run all of Peace: Since the High-Church then and Low, Make our daily Mischiefs grow, And the Great, who sit at the Helm in doubt, Are not sure, how quickly they may turn out: How blest is the happy he, Who from Town, and the Faction that is there, is free; For Love and no ill ends, Treats his Neighbours and his Friends, He shall ever in the Book of Fame, Fix with Honour a glorious Name.

He that was the High Purse-bearer, At his Levy no Crowds you see;