A cantata most probably written for performance in the London pleasure gardens and anthologised in several contemporary song collections.

But for a small handful of similar pleasure gardens' songs, Sigr. Anglosini is unknown to posterity. It is possible that his identity is a nom de plume; James Oswald or Henry Carey would be strong pretenders to be the true author.

Lyrics: Anon

Whilst Strephon on fair Chloe hung,
He gently woo'd, and sweetly sung;
The nymph, in a disdainful air,
Thus, smiling, mock'd the shepherd's care.

Swain, I know that you discover
In my form a thousand charms;
Can you point me out a lover
Worthy my encircling arms?
Boy, no more approach my beauty,
Till you equal merit boast;
To adore me is a duty,
Thousands witness to their cost.

Stung to the heart, the redd'ning swain
On the vain maid retorts again:

Foolish creature, did each feature
Bloom beyond the pride of nature?
Artful feigning, coy, disdaining,
Vain coquette, destroys them all.
Go, o'erbearing, proud, ensnaring,
Lay a thousand fops despairing,
Then complying, sighing, dying,
To some fool a victim fall.
Nymphs like you, whilst they're deceiving,
Angels all in front appear;
But the sot, their arts believing,
Finds a devil in the rear.