Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/362

 At his hard Labour, but a merry Heart; He Sings when ask'd, or bluntly else denys, According to his share of Grief or Joys; Thus the same Accidents to us befal, And that which Tun'd the Cobler, tunes us all: But if against our Will, we thrash out Songs, For Singing then, is thrashing to the Lungs, The blast of Airy Praise we dearer get, Than Peasants do their Bread with toyl and sweat: To Sleep at your command, is the same thing, As when being Tir'd, or vex'd in Mind, to Sing: And tho' Performance, ne'er so easie shew,          } As it has Charms, it has Vexations too,             } And the Singer's plague, 'tis none but Singers know. } How often have I heard th' unskilful say, Had I a Voice, by Heaven I'd Sing all Day; But with that Genius, had he been Endow'd, And were to Sing when ask'd, or be thought Proud: When weary, vex'd, or Ill, not to deny,     } But at all Seasons, with all Friends comply, } He'd then blame Horace, full as much as I;  } Whose want of Knowledge in the Vocal Art, Made him lash all, for one Man's mean desert; For had he the Fatigue of Singers known, And judg'd their Inconvenience by his own; Tigellius only had Correction met, And Omnibus hoc vitium ne'er been writ.