Page:Songs compleat, pleasant and divertive (Wit and mirth or, Pills to purge melancholy).djvu/361

Lictors and Fasces should have bluntly taught
The Fool to know th' Obedience, that he ought:
But if Augustus, his Commands did lay,
When the Genius was not able to Obey;
As oft with Singers it will happen so,
According as their Joys or Troubles grow;
'Twas no Offence then to excuse his Art,
The Soul untun'd, makes Discord in each part:
And Monarchs can no more give Vocal Breath,
Than they can hinder when Fate Summons Death.
  A Pleasure lov'd by one, is lik'd by more,
Suppose Sir, I have Sung too much before;
Made my self Hoarse, and even rack'd my Throat,
To please some Friend, with some fine Treble Note:
Chance does me then to you and others bring,
The second Compliment is—Pray Sir, Sing;
I swear I can't, then Angry you retort,
All you good Singers are so hard to court:
To make Excuse, then modestly I tell
How hoarse I am, with what that Day befel;
Yet all's in vain, you rail, I'm thought a Clown,
And (Omnibus hoc vitium) knocks me down:
  I often have, (I own) to Sing deny'd,
But not through resty Peevishness, nor Pride;
But that perhaps I had been tir'd before,
Weary, or Ill, unable to Sing more:
Or that some Hour of Infelicity,
Had robb'd my Soul of usual Harmony;
Yet all's the same, th' old Saw is still repeated,
You Singers, long to be so much Intreated:
Tho' at that time, to me no Joy could fall
Greater, than not to have been ask'd at all;
  Th' Harmonious Soul, must have it's humour free,
Consent of parts still crowns the Harmony:
We read the Jewish Captives could not Sing,
In a strange Land rul'd by a Foreign King;
Contentment, the melodious Chord controuls,
And Tunes the Diapazon of our Souls:
What makes a Cobler chirp a pleasant Part,