AIR. (Nor thou, Thalia, gay and trim)

Nor thou, Thalia, gay and trim, Skulk, where behind thy mask thou'rt peeping, Come forth, with frolic Wit and Whim, Rouse sluggard Dullness, as he's sleeping.

With honest gibe, and moral jeer, And humour, Honour's cause adorning; Come, dissipate thy sister's tear, As cheers the sun an April morning.

Say, as her grief thou bid'st her dry, Each passion's virtue in its season, That, as 'tis folly loud to cry, So, laughing loud is sometimes reason.