Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/361

 Lictors and Fasces should have bluntly taught The Fool to know th' Obedience, that he ought: But if Augustus, his Commands did lay, When the Genius was not able to Obey; As oft with Singers it will happen so, According as their Joys or Troubles grow; 'Twas no Offence then to excuse his Art, The Soul untun'd, makes Discord in each part: And Monarchs can no more give Vocal Breath, Than they can hinder when Fate Summons Death. A Pleasure lov'd by one, is lik'd by more, Suppose Sir, I have Sung too much before; Made my self Hoarse, and even rack'd my Throat, To please some Friend, with some fine Treble Note: Chance does me then to you and others bring, The second Compliment is—Pray Sir, Sing; I swear I can't, then Angry you retort, All you good Singers are so hard to court: To make Excuse, then modestly I tell How hoarse I am, with what that Day befel; Yet all's in vain, you rail, I'm thought a Clown, And (Omnibus hoc vitium) knocks me down: I often have, (I own) to Sing deny'd, But not through resty Peevishness, nor Pride; But that perhaps I had been tir'd before, Weary, or Ill, unable to Sing more: Or that some Hour of Infelicity, Had robb'd my Soul of usual Harmony; Yet all's the same, th' old Saw is still repeated, You Singers, long to be so much Intreated: Tho' at that time, to me no Joy could fall Greater, than not to have been ask'd at all; Th' Harmonious Soul, must have it's humour free, Consent of parts still crowns the Harmony: We read the Jewish Captives could not Sing, In a strange Land rul'd by a Foreign King; Contentment, the melodious Chord controuls, And Tunes the Diapazon of our Souls: What makes a Cobler chirp a pleasant Part,