Clasp me, &c.

Now our Souls are charm'd in Bliss,

Raptures flow from every Kiss;

Words cannot reveal,

The fierce Joys I feel,

'Tis too much to bear and live,

Words cannot, &c.

A Song, in the Play call'd the Ladies Fine Aires:
Sung by Mr. Pack, in the Figure of a Bawd. Set by Mr. Barrett.