A PASTORAL ELEGY On the DEATH of Mr. John Playford.  
[Note, The Notes with this Mark* over them, are to be sung Demiquavers.]  
The Words by Mr. Tate. Set by Mr. Henry Purcell.  
GEntle Shepherds, you that know the Charms of Tune╌ful Breath, that Harmony in Grie╌f can show, Lament, Lament, for Pi╌ous The╌ron's' Death! Theron, the good, the friend-ly Theron's gone! Theron, Theron, the good, the friend╌ly Theron's gone! Ren╌ding Mountains, weeping Fountains, groaning Dales, and echoing Vales, if you want Skill, will teach you how to moan, to moa╌n; ren╌ding Mountains, weeping Fountains, groaning Dales, and echoing Vales, if you want Skill, will teach you how to moan, to moa╌n; will teach, will teach you how to moan. Could Innocence or Pi╌e╌ty, ex╌pi╌ring Life maintain; or Art pre╌vail on De╌sti╌ny, Theron still, still had graced the Plain, beloved of Pan, and dear to Phoebus' Train; Theron still had graced the Plain, beloved of Pan, and dear to Phoebus' Train. Muses, bring your Ro╌seses hither, strew them gent╌ly on his Hearse; Muses, bring your Ro╌seses hither, strew them gent╌ly on his Hearse; and when those short lived Glo╌rieses wither, crown it with a lasting Verse, crown it with a la╌sting Verse; and when those short-lived Glories wither, crown it with a lasting Verse. Roses soon will fade away, Verse and Tomb must both de╌cay; yet Theron's Name in spite of Fate's Decree, an end╌less Fame shall meet; no Verse so du╌ra╌ble can be, nor Ro╌seses half so sweet, nor Ro╌seses half so sweet.  

CHORUS.  
Then wast no more, no more; then wast no more in Sighs your Breath, nor think his Fate was hard; Then wast no more, no more; then wast no more in Sighs your Breath, nor think his Fate was hard; there's no such thing as Sudden Death, to those that al╌ways are prepared: Prepared like him by Har╌mo╌ny and Love, to join at first approach, to join at first approach, the Sa╌cred Choir above; to join at first approach, to join at first approach the Sa╌cred Choir a╌bove. there's no such thing as Sudden Death, to those that al╌ways are prepared: Prepared like him by Har╌mo╌ny and Love, to join at first approach, at first approach, the Sa╌cred Choir above; to join at first approach, to join at first approach, at first approach the Sacred Choir above.  
FINIS.  
LONDON, Printed for Henry Playford, 1687.    

The ARIELS' Songs in the Play called the TEMPEST.  

COme unto these yellow Sands, and there take hands; Curtsyed when you have and Kissed the wild Waves whist: Foot it gently here and there, and sweet Spirits the burden bear: Hark! hark! bough wow, the watch Dogs Bark, bough wow: Hark! hark! I hear the strain of strutting Chanticleer, cry Cock-a-doodle-do.  Mr. Banister.  

DRy those Eyes which are o'erflowing, all your Storms are over-blowing; while you in this Isle are biding, you shall feast without providing: Every Dainty you can think of, every Wine which you would drink of, shall be yours; all want shall shun you, Ceres' blessing so light on you.  Mr. Banister.