--
Ye furies, advance
With the ghosts in a dance.
'Tis a jubilee when the world is in trouble;
When people rebel,
We frolic in hell;
But when the king falls, the pleasure is double.
[_A single entry of a Devil, followed
by an entry of twelve Devils._
_Chorus._ Let us laugh, let us laugh, let us laugh at our woes,
The wretch that is damned hath nothing to lose.
_The Scene changes to a Prospect taken from the middle of the
Thames; one side of it begins at York-Stairs, thence to White-Hall,
and the Mill-bank, &c. The other from the Saw-mill, thence to the
Bishop's Palace, and on as far as can be seen in a clear day._
_Enter_ AUGUSTA: _She has a Snake in her Bosom hanging down._
_Aug._ O jealousy, thou raging ill,
Why hast thou found a room in lovers' hearts,
Afflicting what thou canst not kill,
And poisoning love himself, with his own darts?
I find my Albion's heart is gone,
My first offences yet remain,
Nor can repentance love regain;
One writ in sand, alas, in marble one.
I rave, I rave! my spirits boil
Like flames increased, and mounting high with pouring oil;
Disdain and love succeed by turns;
One freezes me, and t'other burns; it burns.
Away, soft love, thou foe to rest!
Give hate the full possession of my breast.
Hate is the nobler passion far,
When love is ill repaid;
For at one blow it ends the war,
And cures the love-sick maid.
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