[To them] MINCING.
MINC. The gentlemen stay but to comb, madam, and will wait on you. MILLA. Desire Mrs.--that is in the next room, to sing the song I would have learnt yesterday. You shall hear it, madam. Not that there's any greatmatter in it--but 'tis agreeable to my humour.
SONG.
Set by Mr. John Eccles. I
Love's but the frailty of the mind When 'tis not with ambition joined; A sickly flame, which if not fed expires, And feeding, wastes in self- consuming fires.
II
'Tis not to wound a wanton boy Or am'rous youth, that gives the joy; But 'tis the glory to have pierced a swain For whom inferior beauties sighed in vain.
III
Then I alone the conquest prize, When I insult a rival's eyes; If there's delight in love, 'tis when I see That heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.
