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Show 66 The MAID'S laft Trayer; Bafes! again, again ! Lord ! Mr. Humdrum, you cot three Bars too foon. Come, n o w the Song ASONG, Set by H. Purcelly and Sung Mrs. Hodgfon. Or, Any, rather than Fail. The Fierce, with Furcenefs he deftroys ; The Weak with Tendernefs decoys. He kills the Strong with Joy, the Weak with Tain] No, no, no, no, Refiftance is but vain. 6y i. T H O ' y o u make no return to my Tajfon, Still I pre fume to Adore : 'Tis in Love but an odd Reputation, Faintly repulsd to give o'er : When you talk of your Duty, I gaze on your Beauty. Nor mind the dull Maxim at all; Let it Reign in Cheapfide, With the Citizens Bride, It will ne'er be received in Whitehall. II. What Apocryphal Tales are you told ? By one, who woud make you believe, That, becaufe of to have, and to hold, Touftill muft be pinn'd to his Sleeve : Tis apparent High Treafon, Againft Love, and Reafon, Should one fuch a Treafure engrofs -, He that knows not the Joys, That attend fuch a Choice, Shou'd refign to another who does. Gran. This is admirable : But if you wou'd oblige the dies, you muft play your Solo. Sir Sym. With all m y Heart, if the Captain will accom-ny. i Bully. Pox a' this fcraping, and tooting : Shall w e lipfe, Tom, and make it a Rankum ? x Bully. No, no, well dumfound the Baronet. [They dumfound him, on each fide, as he turns. Sir Sym. Who's that ? What do you mean ? [Turning ick, one hits him in the Bye] This is not to be born : t you, take that, Sir. [Strikes him with a Bafe-Viol, and leaves it upon his Head. Gay. This is a common Caufe. [They draw, drive the Bullies out, the Women run out at the other Boor, Sir Ruff retires to a Corner of the Stage, and draws, the others return Gran. Thefe Brutes have almoft deftroy'd all the pub-k Diverfions of the Town. Gay. Stand you by Sir Sympony, [To Granger.] Til bring r\ a Challenge I've always thought you brave, Sir f' Sir Ruff. Why, w h o dares think otherwife ? Gay. I believe Sir Symphony will meet you. Sir Ruff. Or I'll poft him : But what has he done ? Gay, Softly--You defign'd it, I fuppofe; and yourbeft A S O N G , Written by Anthony Henly liftis t0 be beforehand with him, I'll (land by y o u - - Set by M r . Purcell, and Sung by Mrs.A ... . , l^prs. *nA A/f-e U*J r pran. W h y I faw him ; he encourag d 'em : Betides, and Mrs. Hodgfon. ^w$ but (^ Tidc'for a K n i g k & ? NO, no, no, no, Refiftance is but vain, & Sym. Why, did he call me Fidler ? Andonly adds new weight to Cupid's Ohm G^an. H e faid you were a wretched Scraper, only fit Athoufand Ways, a thoufand Arts. Play ^ a Garland upon a M ^ - D a y : M y Lady Sufan The Tyrant knows to Captivate our Hearts: :*rd p him' x a T s well as I. Sometimes he Sighs imploys, and fometimes frits Slr *>w- N a 7 »f on<| were fure of that, if m e heard • One wou'd not do a foolilh thing, hand over head, The Wtverfal Language of the Byes; m ithout Reafon, you know. Gran. i |