Treb. So I guess the Dialogue, Madam, is suppos'd to be between your Majesty and your first Minister of State.
Lady Fan. Just: He, as Minister, advises me to trouble my Head about the Welfare of my Subjects; which I, as Sovereign, find a very impertinent Proposal. But is the Town so dull, Mr. Treble, it affords us never another new Song?
Treb. Madam, I have one in my Pocket, came out but Yesterday, if your Ladyship pleases to let Mrs. Pipe sing it.
Lady Fan. By all means. Here, Pipe, make what Musick you can of this Song, here.
SONG.
I.
Not an Angel dwells above,
Half so fair as her I love.
Heaven knows, how she'll receive me;
If she smiles, I'm blest indeed;
If she frowns, I'm quickly freed;
Heaven knows she ne'er can grieve me.
II.
None can love her more than I,
Yet she ne'er shall make me die.
If my Flame can never warm her,
Lasting Beauty I'll adore;
I shall never love her more,
Cruelty will so deform her.
Lady Fan. Very well: This is Heartfree's Poetry without question.