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Moonlight

The Doge's daughter: Ariadne: Carmen Britannicum, or The song of Britain: Angelica, or The rape of Proteus: By Edward, Lord Thurlow

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AN ANGLER'S SONG.
  
  
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AN ANGLER'S SONG.

Give me a cup of sparkling wine,
Madge, my pretty dear;
As pure, as are those looks of thine,
Those simple, harmless shepherd looks,
That would tempt fishes to our hooks,
Madge, my pretty dear.
And in the cup put marigolds,
Madge, my pretty dear;
That to the sun her leaf unfolds,
Sweet flow'r, whose essence we will sup,
Then stir with rosemary the cup,
Madge, my pretty dear.
A king may drink a cup less pure,
Madge, my pretty dear;
Less bravely sweet than this, I'm sure,
And pledge a health less fair than thine,
Less steep'd in honour, less divine,
Madge, my pretty dear.

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The morning saw us at our sport,
Madge, my pretty dear;
For which we gladly leave the court,
And all it's oaths, and flattery,
To fish, to sing, to drink to thee,
Madge, my pretty dear.