Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy Volume V Part 33

_The Mountebank_ SONG. _Set and Sung by Mr._ LEVERIDGE, _in a New Play call'd_, Farewel to Folly.

[Music:

See, Sirs, see here! a Doctor rare, who travels much at home!

Here take my Bills, take my Bills, I cure all Ills, past, present, and to come; the Cramp, the St.i.tch, the Squirt, the Itch, the Gout, the Stone, the Pox, the Mulligrubs, the Bonny Scrubs, and all, all, all, all, all, _Pandora's_ Box; Thousands I've Dissected, Thousands new erected, and such Cures effected, as none e'er can tell.

Let the Palsie shake ye, let the Chollick rack ye, let the Crink.u.ms break ye, let the Murrain take ye; Take this, take this and you are well.

Thousands, &c.

Come Wits so keen, devour'd with Spleen; come Beaus who sprain'd your Backs, Great-belly'd Maids, old founder'd Jades, and Pepper'd Vizard Cracks.

I soon remove the pains of Love, and cure the Love-sick Maid; the Hot, the Cold, the Young, the Old, the Living and the Dead.

I clear the La.s.s with Wainscot Face, and from Pim-ginets free, Plump Ladies Red, like _Saracen's_-head, with toaping Rattafe.

This with a Jirk, will do your work, and scour you o're and o're, Read, Judge and Try, and if you die, never believe me more, never, never, never, never, never believe me more.]

_A_ SONG _in the_ Mock Marriage. _Sung by Mrs._ KNIGHT. _Set by Mr._ Henry Purcell.

[Music]

Oh! how you protest and solemnly swear, Look humble, and fawn like an a.s.s; I'm pleas'd, I must own, when ever I see A Lover that's brought to this pa.s.s.

Keep, keep further off, you're naughty I fear, I vow I will never, will never, will never yield to't; You ask me in vain; for never I swear, I never, no never, I never, no never, I never, no never will do't.

For when the Deed's done, how quickly you go, No more of the Lover remains, In hast you depart, whate'er we can do, And stubbornly throw off your Chains: Desist then in time, let's hear on't no more, I vow I will never yield to't; You promise in vain, in vain you adore, For I will never, no never will do't.

JOCKEY'S _Lamentation._

[Music]

_Jockey_ met with _Jenny_ fair Betwixt the dawning and the Day, And _Jockey_ now is full of Care, For _Jenny_ stole his Heart away: Altho' she promis'd to be true, Yet she, alas, has prov'd unkind, That which do make poor _Jenny_ rue, For _Jenny's_ fickle as the Wind: And, _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _The Wind has blown my Plad away._

_Jockey_ was a bonny Lad, As e'er was born in _Scotland_ fair; But now poor _Jockey_ is run mad, For _Jenny_ causes his Despair; _Jockey_ was a Piper's Son, And fell in Love while he was young: But all the Tunes that he could play, Was, _o'er the Hills, and far away,_ And, _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _'Tis o'er the Hills and far away,_ _'Tis o'er the Hills and far away,_ _The Wind has blown my Plad away._

When first I saw my _Jenny's_ Face, She did appear with sike a Grace, With muckle Joy my Heart was fill'd; But now alas with Sorrow kill'd.

Oh! was she but as true as fair, 'Twou'd put an end to my Despair; But ah, ala.s.s! this is unkind, Which sore does terrify my Mind; _'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _'Twas o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _That_ Jenny _stole my Heart away._

Did she but feel the dismal Woe That for her Sake I undergo, She surely then would grant Relief, And put an end to all my Grief: But oh, she is as false as fair, Which causes all my sad Despair; She triumphs in a proud Disdain, And takes Delight to see my Pain; _'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.

Hard was my Hap to fall in Love, With one that does so faithless prove; Hard was my fate to court the Maid, That has my constant Heart betray'd: A thousand times to me she swore, She would be true for evermore: But oh! alas, with Grief I say, She's stole my Heart, and ran away; _'Twas o'er the Hills_, &c.

Good gentle _Cupid_ take my part, And pierce this false one to the Heart, That she may once but feel the Woe, As I for her do undergo; Oh! make her feel this raging Pain, That for her Love I do sustain; She sure would then more gentle be, And soon repent her Cruelty; _'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.

I now must wander for her sake, Since that she will no Pity take, Into the Woods and shady Grove, And bid adieu to my false Love: Since she is false whom I adore, I ne'er will trust a Woman more, From all their Charms I'll fly away, And on my Pipe will sweetly play; _'Tis o'er the Hills_, &c.

There by my self I'll sing and say, _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away_, That my poor Heart is gone astray, Which makes me grieve both Night and Day; Farewel, farewel, thou cruel she, I fear that I shall die for thee: But if I live, this Vow I'll make, To love no other for your sake.

_'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _'Tis o'er the Hills, and far away,_ _The Wind has blown my Plad away._

The Recruiting Officer: _Or_, The Merry Volunteers: _Being an Excellent New Copy of Verses upon raising Recruits._

_To the foregoing Tune._

Hark! now the Drums beat up again, For all true Soldiers Gentlemen, Then let us list, and march I say, Over the Hills and far away; Over the Hills and o'er the Main, To _Flanders_, _Portugal_ and _Spain_, Queen _Ann_ commands, and we'll obey, _Over the Hills and far away_.

All Gentlemen that have a Mind, To serve the Queen that's good and kind; Come list and enter into Pay, Then o'er the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c.

Here's Forty s.h.i.+llings on the Drum, For those that Volunteers do come, With s.h.i.+rts, and Cloaths, and present Pay, When o'er the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c.

Hear that brave Boys, and let us go, Or else we shall be prest you know; Then list and enter into Pay, And o'er the Hills and far away, _Over the Hills_, &c.

The Constables they search about, To find such brisk young Fellows out; Then let's be Volunteers I say, Over the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c.

Since now the _French_ so low are brought, And Wealth and Honour's to be got, Who then behind wou'd sneaking stay?

When o'er the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c.

No more from sound of Drum retreat, While _Marlborough_, and _Gallaway_ beat, The _French_ and _Spaniards_ every Day, When over the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c.

He that is forc'd to go and fight, Will never get true Honour by't, While Volunteers shall win the Day, When o'er the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c.

What tho' our Friends our Absence mourn, We all with Honour shall return; And then we'll sing both Night and Day, Over the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c.

The Prentice _Tom_ he may refuse, To wipe his angry Master's Shoes; For then he's free to sing and play, Over the Hills and far away; _Over the Hills_, &c.

Over Rivers, Bogs, and Springs, We all shall live as great as Kings, And Plunder get both Night and Day, When over the Hills and far away, _Over the Hills_, &c.

We then shall lead more happy Lives, By getting rid of Brats and Wives, That Scold on both Night and Day, When o'er the Hills and far away: _Over the Hills_, &c.

Come on then Boys and you shall see, We every one shall Captains be, To Wh.o.r.e and rant as well as they, When o'er the Hills and far away: _Over the Hills_, &c.

For if we go 'tis one to Ten, But we return all Gentlemen, All Gentlemen as well as they, When o'er the Hills and far away: _Over the Hills_, &c.