Chastities Conquest, OR, No Trusting before Marriage.  
A New Song,  
You Virgins that your Fame and Honour prize.  
Learn here by saving both, how to be wise.  
Secure your Treasure till you have secured  
The Purchaser and then you are insured  
A thing that forehand freeness ne'er procured.  
To the Tune of, Canst thou not wove Bonelace.  
This may be Printed. R P  
 

CAnst thou not wove Bonelace,  
yea by Lady that I can,  
canst thou not lisp with Grace  
yea as well as any one,  
Canst thou not Card and Spin  
yea by Lady that I can  
And doth other thing  
we I'll do what I can  
Come then, and be my sweet  
To Bed I'll carry thee  
No in Geud faith not a bit  
Unless you marry me:   

Marriage is not the mode  
than I'se will make it so,  
Deuce o'the common Road  
I'll ne'er forsake it so  
Thou shalt in me possess  
all joys that can be had  
Then give a consenting Kiss,  
Then wed me first my Lad  
Let us but gang to the Priest  
So dear I tender thee.  
Then Kiss on and do what you list  
faith. I'll not hinder the   
 

We shall soon weary grow  
change will soon tire you  
Ah do not tell me so  
Since I admire you  
For when I touch thy Breasts  
thy charms so fire me  
Yet needless is a Priest  
Then come no nigher me,  
For when you tempt me to bed  
I'se no sick silly Fool,  
But if you'll buckle and wed,  
then kiss your Belly full   

If as you say you Love  
make I'se your wedded Mate,  
And you shall freely have  
what ever you'd be at  
Will you not then my joy  
without you're wedded strike  
No by my troth not I  
Such loving I'll not like  
But wedded my Arms shall bless  
thy passion to the light  
And with a consenting kiss  
my Love to his joys invite.   

Let's no kind minute's waist  
I'll lead thee to my Bed,  
Where Loves delights we'll taste  
and so to morrow be wedded  
Geud Faith I'll not agree,  
I'll venture no such thing  
Troth you're deceived in me  
and must begin again  
Come lay this Bashfulness by  
your blushes I will hide  
What harm is it now to try  
If you're to morrn my Bride.   

I'll never yield to that  
O don't desire me  
To to the Devil knows what  
Whoo'd then admire me  
Well thou hast won my Heart,  
Thy Uirtues fire me  
I'll wed and never part  
As you require me  
Soft murmurs and Sighs shall prove  
What joys you render me  
O Kiss then and surfeit one Love  
Faith i'll not angry be.    

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball near the Bear Tavern in Pyecorner.