The Game, and twins Grace Brothers
Follow my lady, and she wanders somewhere,
Beneath his feet made esmailler earth,
Hyvers and made new spring.
In favor of their jargon birds
Its winds Aeolus in his cave encloses
Sweet Zephyre a soft sigh loose,
And mutes all accoisent streams.
The Elemens resumed in it.
Nature laughed to see beautiful thing.
I tremble all, anyone of these Gods
Do passion after her beautiful face,
And that the looting of treasure: nostre age,

Worms between Homer-leus adventure
Either by fate or by meeting per lot,
For me sing with one accord
Guarison the torment that I endure.
These old Barbus that future thing
Features, hands, face and port
Predicting will announce consolation
The passions of my pain so hard.
Mesme the night the the somne ÔÇïÔÇïthat puts you
Fresh in my bed, It bodes promises me
I verray your fiertez softened,
And you only oracle of love,

Gentle beauty, meurdriere of my life,
In place of a heart you wear a rock.
You make me live and languish desecher,
A passionate love envy.
The young blood to love invites you,
Has little pull toy coldness,
Fierce, proud, and have nothing more expensive
That cold languish, and Estre item served.
Learning to live, O proud cruelty.
Pluto does point guard thy beauty,
Somewhat comfortable magnet must be taken.
Must gently deceive the decease;

EPILOGUE.

Our too advent'rous Author soar'd to Night
Above the little Praise, Mirth to excite,
And chose with Pity to chastise Delight.
For Laughter's a distorted Passion, born
Of sudden self Esteem, and sudden Scorn;
Which, when 'tis o'er, the Men in Pleasure wise,
Both him that mov'd it, and themselves despise;
While generous Pity of a painted Woe
Make us our selves both more approve, and know.
What is that Touch within, which Nature gave
For Man to Man, e'er Fortune made a Slave?

SONG .

1.

The rolling Years the Joys restore,
Which happy happy Britain knew,
When in a Female Age before
Beauty the Sword of Justice drew.

2.

Nymphs, and Fauns, and Rural Powers
Of christal Floods, and shady Bowers,
No more shall here preside:
The flowing Wave, and living Green
Owe only to their present Queen
Their Safety and their Pride.

3.

United Air, and Pleasures bring,
Of tender Note, and tuneful String:
All your Arts devoted are

1.

Venus has left her Grecian Isles,
With all her gaudy Train
Of little Loves, soft Cares and Smiles,
In my larger Breast to reign.

2.

Ye tender Herds, and list'ning Deer,
Forget your Food, forget your Fear,
The bright Victoria will be here.

3.

The Savages about me throng,
Mov'd with the Passion of my Song,
And think Victoria stays too long.

Enter Bookwit with Bottle and Glass singing.

S INCE the Day of poor Man,
That little little Span,

To Celia's Spinet.

Thou soft Machine that do'st her Hand obey,
Tell her my Grief in thy harmonious Lay.

To shun my Moan to thee she'll fly,
To her Touch be sure reply,
And, if she removes it, die.

Know thy Bliss, with Rapture shake,
Tremble o'er all thy numerous Make;
Speak in melting Sounds my Tears,
Speak my Joys, my Hopes, my Fears.

Thou , Nature's favorite! Many-pleasured town!
Where Beauty rivals Beauty, as every rose
Rivals the velvet cluster: what renown
Can emulate the fame of thy repose?

Here may my children's children's children find
The joy three happy generations found,
Learning how Heaven itself has been designed
From things of Earth most worthy to be crowned.

Oh, listen, passer dear!
Behold me, I am here,
Deftly oiled, and lithe and supple, with red roses on my breast.
Bid me to thee by a sign;
Give me gold and I am thine,
For I long by valiant warriors to be petted and caressed!

I have amulets and rings,
And a host of peerless things
In my perfumed house in Malqua; come, sweet passer, to my home!
There are lilies in my hair,
And my bosom, round and bare,
Is far whiter than pale Tanit beaming softly on the foam.

Hail, Hannibal! to thee
Belong the land and sea!
Before thee foemen flee
Like frightened horses!
The legions of the State
Thy valor consecrate,
And ever victorious great
Crown all our forces!

Thou art above all law,
Supreme and without flaw;
We follow thee with awe
And passive wonder!
We reverence thy choice,
And in thy deeds rejoice;
The war-cry of thy voice
Is like a thunder!

Oh Hannibal! we crave
From thee a soldier's grave,
When with a dripping glaive
We strike the foemen;