His little son, into his bosom creeps,

The lively picture of his father's face.

His humble house or poor state ne'er torment him;
Less he could like, if less his God had lent him;
And when he dies, green turfs do for a tomb content him.

Gentlemen, these were a part of the thoughts that then possessed me. And I there made a conversion of a piece of an old catch, and added more to it, fitting them to be sung by us Anglers. Come, Master, you can sing well; you must sing a part of it as it is in this pa

Words and
Music in

the Notes.

per.

PET. I marry, Sir, this is music indeed! This has cheered my heart, and made me to remember six verses in Praise of Music, which I will speak to you instantly.

Music! miraculous rhetoric! that speak'st sense
Without a tongue, excelling eloquence;

With what ease might thy errors be excus'd,
Wert thou as truly lov'd as thou'rt abus'd!
But though dull souls neglect, and some reprove thee,
I cannot hate thee, 'cause the Angels love thee.

VEN. And the repetition of these last verses of Music, have called to my memory what Mr. Edmund Waller, a Lover of the Angle, says of Love and Music.

Whilst I listen to thy voice,

Chloris, I feel my heart decay;

That powerful voice

Calls my fleeting soul away: