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The Second part of New Songs, as they are Sung at Court;
Written by a Perſon of quality named, D. of P.

Phillis, a New Song.

In Phillis will are all Men fooliſh,
 Uncertain falſe Conqueſt.
Love is her conſtant welcome Gueſt,
 And ſtill the neweſt pleaſeſt beſt,
Quickly ſhe likes then leaves as ſoon,
 Her life on Womans a Lampoon.

Yet for the plague of Humane Race,
 This Devil has an Angels Face;
Such Youth, ſuch ſweetneſs in her look,
 Who can be man and not be took,
What former Love? What wit? What Art?
 Can ſave a poor inclining heart:

In vain a thouſand times an hour,
 Reaſon Rebels againſt her Power;
In vain I rail and curſe her Charms,
 One look my feeble Rage diſarms;
There is Inchantment in her Eyes,
 Who ſees them can no more be wiſe,
There is Inchantment in her Eyes,
 Who ſees them can no more be wiſe.

A Song.

Lovely Selina, innocent and Fair;
 From all the dangerous Arts of Love,
Thus in a Melancholly Grove,
 Enjoy'd the ſweetneſs of her privacy;
Till envious Gods deſigning to undo her,
 Diſpatch the Swain not unlike
Unlike then to wooe her.

It was not long e’re the deſigned take
 A gentle Youth born to perſwade,
D—d the too too eaſie Maid;
 Her Scrip and Garland ſoon ſhe did forſake,
And raſhly told the ſecrets of her heart,
 Which the fond Man would evermore impart,
Falſe Coridel joy of my heart

Said ſhe, ’tis hard to Love, Love in vain,
 To love and not be lov’d again;
And why ſhould Love and prudence diſagre,
 Pitty ye Powers that ſit at eaſe above,
If e’re you knew what ’tis to be in Love.

A New Song of the Whiggiſh Poets Recantation. To the Tune of,'No Ignoramus Juries now. &c.

This is my Reformation,
And perfect Recantation,
Which ſhall appear,
Both far and near
through all the Land and Nation.
 No whining, nor pining,
 nor Loyalty declining
 But let the Law, keep Whigs in awe,
 And check their damn’d deſigning.

I writ in praiſe of Tony,
in ſhort it was for Money,
But when I ſee their Treachery;
I’de be no more their Crony.
 No whining, &c.

I was a Noble ſpender,
When Tony liv’d in ſplender,
I us’d to write The Whigs Delight,
To me much Fame did render,
 No whining, &c.

And I was mighty handy,
In filling out the Brandy,
I’de ſmoak and Funk till I was drunk,
Few Whigs will go beyond me.
 No Whining, &c.

Thoſe days Sir while they laſted,
I had Sack when I ask’t it,
when I was drunk they ſent me home,
Safe in a Potters Basket.
 No Whining, &c.

When Ruſſel was Arraigned,
A Lawyers Gown I gained;
I ask’d the Caſe to my diſgrace,
And all my Credit ſtained.
 No whining, &c.

With Lawyers I converſed,
But quickly was diſgraced,
I was undone and forc’t to run,
And dare not ſtand to Face it.
 No whining, &c.

Ambition ſo abounded,
And I with ſhame ſurrounded,
I with my Gown was tumbled down,
And all my Wits Confounded.
 No whining, &c.

This did deſpiſe my Glory,
A ſad and diſmal Story,
The Rabble I will now defie,
And turn a Loyal Tory.
 No whining, &c.

God Bleſs great Charles and Jemmy,
And all the whole Retinue,
With Peace and Love, down from above,
With happy days and many.
 No Whining nor pining,
 nor Loyalty declining
But let the Law keep Whigs in awe,
And check their damn’d Deſigning,

London Printed, and are to be Sold by, A. Chamberlain in Red-Bull Play-houſe Tard over againſt the Pound in St. John-Street.