From Select Ayres, printed for J. Playford, HUE AND CRY AFTER CHLORIS. I. TELL me, ye wand'ring fpirits of the air, II. Go fearch the valleys, pluck up ev'ry rofe, Go call the echoes to your aid, and cry, Chloris, Chloris, for that's her name for whom I die. III. But ftay awhile, I have inform'd you ill, Were the on earth, she had been with me ftill; Go, fly to heav'n, examine ev'ry sphere, And try what ftar hath lately lighted there. If any brighter than the fun you see, Fall down, fall down, and worship it, for that is she! DR. KING. THE SURRENDER. My y once dear love, hapless that I no more Muft call thee so, the rich affection's store That fed on hopes, lies now exhaust and spent, Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white like turtle doves Diflodged from their haunts, we must in tears From a collection entitled "WIT RESTORED." Edit. 1658. Duod. PHILLIDA FLOUTS ME. OH! what a pain is love; How fhall I bear it? She will unconftant prove, She fo torments my mind, That my ftrength faileth, And wavers with the wind, As a fhip that faileth; Please her the best I may, She looks another way; Alack and well-a-day! Phillida flouts me! All the fair yesterday With DANIEL fhe did dance, On me fhe look'd askance, Oh! thrice unhappy chance! Phillida flouts me! Fair maid! be not so coy, Do not difdain me; All that is fitting; And her geese fitting; A pair of mattrass beds, And yet for all this goods Phillida flouts me! She hath a clout of mine, Wrought with good Coventry, Which the keeps for a fign Of my fidelity. But i' faith, if she flinch, She shall not wear it; To TIBB, my t'other wench, 1 mean to bear it. And yet it grieves my heart So foon from her to part! Death ftrikes me with his dart! Phillida flouts me! |