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UPON A FRIEND,

who HAD A PAIN IN HIS LEFT SIDE.

On chance, or on disease,
§ So sensible, Sö nice a smart,
Is from no cause like these.

II. Your friends, at last, the truth have found, Howe'er you tell your story,

'Twas Celia's eyes that gave the wound,
And they shall have the glory.

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SONGS, SET TO MUSIC BY. THE MOST EMINENT MASTERS. I.

SET BY MIR. ABEL.

oBADING ends in melancholy; i Wine breeds vices and diseases; Wealth is but care, and love but folly > Only friendship truly pleases. My wealth, my books, my flask, my Molly; Farewell all, if friendship ceases.

II.
SET BY MR. PURCELL.

oHITHER would my passion run ?
# Shall I fly her, or pursue her?
Losing her, I am undone;
Yet would not gain her, to undo her.

Ye tyrants of the human breast,
Love and reason cease your war,

And order death to give me rest;
So each will equal triumph share.

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But I plainly see the reason,
Why in vain I you pursu'd;

Her to gain 'twas out of season,
Who before the chaplain woo'd.

IV.

SET BY MIR. SMITH.

Torment not thus your pretty heart: hink, Flavia, we may meet again. As well as, that we now must part.

You sigh and weep: the gods neglect
That precious dew your eyes let fall:

Our joy and grief with like respect
They mind; and that is, not at all.

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We pray, in hopes they will be kind,
As if they did regard our state: 10

They hear; and the return we find
Is, that no prayers can alter fate.

Then clear your brow, and look more gay,
Do not yourself to grief resign;
Who knows but that those powers may
The pair, they now have parted, join 2
But, since they have thus cruel been,
And could such constant lovers sever;
I dare not trust, lest now they're in.
They should divide us two for ever. 20

Then, Flavia, come, and let us grieve,
Remembering though upon what score;

This our last parting look believe,
Believe we must embrace no more.

Yet, should t r sun shine out at last :
And fortune, without more decent.

Throw but one reconciling cast,
To make two wandering lovers meet;

How great then would our pleasure be,
To find Heaven kinder than believ'd ; so

And we, who had no hopes to see
Each other, to be thus deceiv'd

But say, should Heaven bring no relief,
Suppose our sun should never rise:

Why then what's due to sueh a grief,
We've paid already with our eyes.

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ET perjur'd fair Amynta know, What for her sake I undergo ; Tell her, for her how I sustain & A lingering fever's wasting pain ; Tell her, the torments I endure, Which only, only she can cure.

But, oh! she scorns to hear, or see, The wretch that lies so low as me; Her sudden greatness turns her brain, And Strephon hopes, alas! in vain: 10 For ne'er 'twas found (though often tried) That pity ever dwelt with pride.

VI.

SET BY M.R. SMITH.

=$o HILLIS, since we have both been kind, And of each other had our fill ; fo Tell me what pleasure you can find.

In forcing nature 'gainst her will.

'Tis true, you may with art and pain
Keep in some glowings of desire; ,

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