Methinks the Poor Town has been troubled too long.  
OR, A Collection of the Several SONGS Now in Mode Either at the COURT OR, theaters.  
The second Edition, with Additions.  

Carpere Causidicus fertur mea carmina  
qui sit Nescio: Si Sciero, Vae tibi Causidice!   

I hear some Lawyer at my Songs does Scoff,  
But would I knew who 'twas; I'd● c●a● him off▪   
Printed in the Year, 1673.   

TO THE READER.  
AS I live, Reader, 'tis a damnable strange thing, to consider the nature of some ingrateful sort of men: give 'em an Inch, Sir, and they take a nel▪ Little did poor Peel-garlick, think to come out with his Editions▪ and Additions, when he patched up a poor three-sheet-book, and prefixed a formal Epistle, wherein he took no small pains to prove how disingenious it was for any man to print a Collection of Songs: and yet all the while was committing the fault he inveighed against. I protest Reader, it was not well done of those that encouraged this hardy scribbler, by buying up his books at that rate as if they had been gazettes after an Engagement; fie upon't, I wonder all men should be so bubbled by an old Wheadle: I know indeed 'tis common with Wanton Wives to exclaim against adultery, and by that means to guile their easy Husbands into an opinion of their chastity, till they can with safety, adulterate as many pair of Sheets as they please, but that this Paper-cheat, should be palm'd on so many suburb bullyes, that will hardly pass upon one City fop,— 'tis miraculous. But Reader! Since for the humours-sake, some are willing to throw away a Tester, I have once more adventured to run the Gauntlet, though some Thousands of Curses from the Zealous Poetasters, and Exact Songsters of the Town; which they have vented against the unknown Author, so often in his hearing; that, a Plague on him passes as famiarly with him, now, as your Servant Sir; and he, good man, can for all their unkindness, cry salue, as naturally as.  
Vale.   

A TABLE OF THE SONGS Contained in this BOOK.  

THe day you wishd's arrived at last. page. 9  
How subtle a thing 'tis to Love. 10  
Beauty no longer shall suffer eclipse. 11  
Let our politic Noddles debate. 12  
Fill Round the Healths, good natured and free. 12  
A Song of a Sea Fight; designed to be sung in the Tortures of Amboyna. 13  
Beneath Aurelia's feet I sat. 14  
The Dream. 15  
Since 'tis the business of uncertain fate. 16  
I never shall henceforth approve. 17  
When the Nymph had denied me with Blushes and Tears. 18  
Why lovely Celia should I fear? 19  
When First I began to red Letters of Love. 20  
Coy Madam, 'tis not fit that your Thin Hood. 21  
It was Evander, whose fair eyes. 22  
I  told young Jenny I loved her. 23  
The Request of Lucinda. 24  
Methinks the poor Town has been troubled too long. 25  
Forgive me Jove. 26  
At the sight of my Phillis, from every part. 27  
Nay let me alone. 28  
Is Celadon unkind? it cannot be. 29  
Ah Cruel Eyes! that first inflamed. 29  
Life of my Soul! return, return. 30  
A Song in Epsom-wells. 31  
A Song in Epsom-wells. 32  
Lo! behind a Scene of Seas. 33  
Song in Love in a Nunnery. 34  
A Song by Sea-men. 35  
A Song in the Dutch-Lover. 36  
O! the time that is past. 37  
A Drinking Catch. 38  
An Answer to let Fortune and Phillis. 38  
When first my free heart was surprised by desire. 39  
O Love! if e're thou'st ease a heart. 40  
A New Dialogue, Between Tom Tinker, and his Company. 41  
A Song of the Whining-Lover. 42  
Song on the London Ladies. 43  
A Song: by a Lady, whose Love was opposed by her Mother. 44  
In what desperate earnest, said I. 45  
Fie, Cloris, 'Tis silly to sigh thus in vain. 45  
From Friends, all inspired with brisk Burgundy Wine. 46  
Adieu my Cordelia, my dearest adieu, 47  
Must I, fair Ruler of my Fate. 47  
An Old shepherd Courts a young Nymph. 48  
Thou art so fair, and cruel too. 49  
Ah faiding joy. 50  
Why Cloris should you on him frown. 51  
They call, They call, what voice is that? 52  
Peace Cupid, take thy Bow in hand. 53  
When first, fair Saint, I saw you kind. 53  
A Dialogue between two Sisters in Love. 54  
How bonny and brisk: Ah! how pleasant and sweet. 56    

A COLLECTION OF THE Choicest and Newest SONGS.  


THe day you wishd's arrived at last,  
You wish as much that it were past;  
One minute more, and night will hid  
The Bride-groom, and the blushing Bride:  
The Virgin now, to bed does go,  
Take care, O Youth, she rise not so;  
She pants and trembles at her Doom▪  
Yet sighs and wishes thou wouldst come.   

The Bride-groom comes, he comes a place,  
With love, and fury in his face:  
She shrinks away, he close pursues,  
And prayers, and Threats, at once does use▪  
She softly sighing, begs delay,  
And with her hand, puts his away▪  
Now out aloud, for help she crys,  
And now despairing, shuts her eyes.    

A Song.  

HOw subtle a thing 'tis to Love,  
Since each look does increase our desire;  
At each amorous view,  
Love rallies anew,  
And fans the kind flamme still up higher.   

But when we are come to embrace,  
And love's Organs in action employ;  
Our pangs they are such,  
That scarce can we touch,  
E're we faint, and fall breathless away.   

Then panting in respite we lie,  
And muse on the pastime began,  
Till by powerful thought,  
With pleasure refraught,  
We take heart to be sick once again.   

Thus our pleasing Convulsions renew,  
And in sweetest succession go on;  
Till our fits so dull grow,  
And do follow so slow,  
That our pretty Love-fainting is done.    

Song.  


( 1)  
BEauty no longer shall suffer eclipse,  
Nor jealousy dare to confine;  
The power of those eyes, or use of those lips,  
Which nothing but kindness design:  
Our Ladies shall be,  
As frolic as we,  
Nor shall Husband, or Father repined.   

We'l banish the Stratagems used by the State,  
To keep the poor Women in awe;  
Henceforth they themselves, shall make their own Fate,  
And desire shall to them be a Law:  
Thus they being free,  
From Padlock, and Key,  
May with their Reformers withdraw.   

Where in private we'l teach 'em the Mysteries of Love▪  
And practise that lecture all over;  
Till we the fond scruple of honour remove,  
And the end of our passion discover:  
No Maid shall complain,  
Or Wife sigh in vain,  
For each shall be eased by her Lover.   

Away with all things that sound like to Laws,  
In this our new reformation;  
Let the Formalist prate, the Good Old Cause  
Is a general Toleration;  
From this time they're free,  
From a Veil haresie,  
And a Vizard Excommunication.    

2d. Song of Three Parts.  

LEt our politic Noddles dobate,  
So our Women be free;  
'Tis nothing to him ●o the to me,  
Who governs the Church or the State.    

3d. Song.  

FIll Round the Healths, good natured and free,  
Let your States-men politic be;  
No custom our Joys shall defer;  
This is a bliss,  
Each Lady has her gallant, each man has his Mis,  
On this side and this,  
Let us kisso, let us kiss,  
Alamode De Angleter.     

A Song of a Sea Fight, designed to be sung in The Tortures of Amboyna.  

WHo ever saw a noble sight.  
That never veiw'd a brave Sea-fight?  
Hang up your bloody colours in the Air,  
Up with your fights, and your nettings prepare:  
Your merry mates cheer with a lustty bow'l spirit,  
Each man his Brin-dish, and then to the fight;  
Saint George, Saint George will he cry,  
The shouting Turks reply;  
O now it begins, and our Gun-room grows hot;  
Ply it with Culverin, and with small shot:  
Hark, hark, does it not thunder?  
No, 'tis the Guns roar,  
The neighbouring billows are turned into gore,  
Now each wan must resolve to die,  
For here the Coward cannot fly;  
Drums and Trumpets toll the knell,  
And Culverin the passing bell;  
Now, now, they grapple, and board amain,  
Blow up the Hatches they're all off again:  
Give them a Broad-side, the Dice runs at all,  
Down comes the Mast, and Yard, and Tacklings fall;  
She grows giddy, like blind fortunes Wheel,  
She sinks, there she sinks, she turns up her keel,  
Who ever behold so noble a sight,  
As this so brave, so bloody sea-fight?    

Aurelia.  

BEneath Aureli●'s feet I sate,  
Expecting at her hands a kinder fate;  
With folded hands and pensive head,  
Venting in doubled sighs what e'r I said,  
Making new Vows, repeating old;  
Yet still Aurelia still was could:  
And laughed while I my mournful story  told.   

Ah scornful shepherdess, said I,  
What pleasure is't to see your servants die;  
should all your Votaryes be slain,  
What honour would your Tyrant Beauty gain?  
The cruel Nymph, in scorns replied,  
Go Swain, be thou the first that ever tried:  
I then may pitty, what I now deride,  
Ay then I'll pitty, &c.    

The Dream.  

THe wearied Sun, had done it's work and light,  
Fled to the bosom of the night;  
When to my kindest friend my bed,  
I yielded up my thoughtful head:  
Midnight so soft, came stealing by,  
As time had been a sleep as well as I.   

In pitty then my fancy to me brought,  
A kind and beauteous thought;  
lo! a fair garden did appear,  
I know not how, I know not where?  
A murmuring stream, such music kept;  
That in my very dream again I slept.   

The dimpled natures smile,— Phillis I spied:  
A gentle blast did turn aside,  
Her careless silken Clouds, and lo!  
Methoughts her breasts were paved with snow;  
Ah fair and pittylesse, said I,  
That snow when flames invade it, soon will die.   

A wild blushy stains her face, and idly seeks,  
T'establisht beauty surer in her cheeks;  
I reached that story with my eye,  
And straight a Vocal tear let fly:  
Of mercy then I found a sign,  
For straight in tears her eyes did echo mine.   

Ah! then I ran, and clasping her I loved,  
Through the complying Air we moved;  
Some one methought did feircely call,  
I turn to see, and down I fall:  
While she flew up, and I fell down,  
I wake and find myself in tears alone.    

Song.  

SInce 'tis the business of uncertain fate,  
To make us happy, and unfortunate;  
My soul shall hid it's griefs a while,  
My eyes suspend their tears:  
My voice, my sorrows shall beguile,  
My heart conceal it's fears.  
My happiness was thrown away,  
At one unlucky cast,  
And yet a little Joy does stay,  
〈…〉 ring pleasures past:  
〈…〉 plain, while we profess,  
〈…〉 our sorrow less.    

Singularity in Love Rejected.  

I Never shall henceforth approve,  
The Deity of Love;  
Since he could be.  
So much unjust by wounding me.  
To leave my mistress free.   

As if my flamme could leave a print,  
Upon a heart of flint;  
Can Flesh and ston?  
Be e'r converted into One,  
By my poor flamme alone.   

Were he a God, he'd neither be,  
Partial to her, nor me:  
But by a Dart,  
Directed into eithers heart:  
Make both confess his art,  
Thus being melted with his subtle fire,  
Our loves might mingle into one desire.    

A Song.  

WHen the Nymph had denied me with blushes & tears,  
And had forced her affection to yield to her fears;  
When I saw 'twas in vain,  
To accost her again,  
And by loving afresh to confirm her disdain:  
I resolved her unkindness no more to pursue,  
So I made her a Congee, and bid her adieu.   

In scorn she replied, foolish shepherd go find  
Out a Nymph for your turn, that will quickly be kind;  
You may meet with enough,  
That your flamme will allow,  
Without the expense of an Oath or a Vow;  
And if here you believe you have injury done,  
In the park you'l have ease, 'tis a hundred to one.   

I yielded, and just as I got to the door,  
With a Vow to myself, that I'd see her no more;  
In a smile she confessed,  
She had been but in Jest,  
And in kisses betrayed a good will to the rest;  
Ah shepherd she cried, we our passion disguise:  
But 'tis you make us chast by believing our lies.    

A Song.  

WHy lovely Celia should I fear,  
To tell you that I love;  
Since I no other shape can wear,  
But what you may approve:  
What fault can you with my bright passion find,  
That must be as immortal as your mind?   

'Tis secret friendship that I bring,  
Friendship the Soul of Love;  
A rich, though long a banished thing,  
To those blessed souls above:  
Only this just return from you I crave,  
As you possess my heart, I yours m●y have.   

The treacherous, he that proffers bliss;  
By glittering jointures made;  
He only the impostor is,  
By which you are betrayed:  
How vainly will it by you then be sought,  
To gain that freedom, which your tyrant bought?   

The crafty Leopard, so doth win,  
On herds that fearless lie;  
With that enamill of his Skin,  
Till the surprised must die:  
Too late alas! then strives the captive prey,  
From the insulting foe to get away.    

A Song.  

WHen first I began to red Letters of Love,  
On the pretty sweets treats, and discourse of a face,  
The Language enticed, and so gently did move,  
No rhetoric spoken with half such a grace.   

Yet still I was safe from the boys early dart,  
Which hit but my eyes, though it aimed at my heart;  
Like glow-worms. appearing so splendid and bright,  
They gave me no fire, though they sparkled a Light.   

But now like the fly, that plays in the flamme,  
So long till he scorches his wings in the same;  
Though I liked and approved, what I saw fresh and new,  
I never loved truly, before I loved you.   

But alas! when I think what an height I aspire,  
Like the high-flying Youth, who melted his plums;  
And dropped in the water, to put out his fire,  
O then I despair, who before did presume.   

I sigh to myself, and softly do cry.  
Leande before I'll discover I'll die;  
No public address, shall intrude on your famed,  
'Tis enough that your Martyr in private I am.   

Though I Love to a rage all favours above,  
For fear of offending, I'll stisle my Love;  
Not so much as a thought shall guess who you are,  
Till they cut out my heart, and find your name there.    

concealed Beauty.  

COy Madam, 'tis not fit that your thin hood,  
( A weak restraint to piercing eyes)  
should make me greedy, then deny me food,  
And rob me of that place, where beauty lies.   

It were not safe to give one glimpse a day,  
If by too secret Visits you're anoy'd;  
For that but keeps an appetite in play,  
Which by an open view might have been cloyed.   

But if you hid that I should closer seek.  
And your intentions be not what they seem;  
Wind me not up too high, for fear I break,  
Danger lies always hide in an extreme.   

'Tis pitty you should ever know the force,  
Nature has laid up in those charming eyes;  
That power is dangerous, and without remorse,  
Whose only pastime is in sacrifice.   

Thus hiding does your secrets more betray,  
While your coy wit, such fine Repulses wears;  
Dame Eve was ne'er thought naked, till the day  
That first she made a covering of leaves.    

Evandra.  

IT was Evandra, whose fair Eyes,  
Did my unguarded heart surprise;  
That beauteous sorceress has charms,  
T'orcome a stubborn heart in arms.  
For by her power,  
She gains each hour;  
The wise, the great, the Valiant, and the bold,  
And there are slaves as many as behold.   

My flamme at first, with smiles she fed,  
Now her unkindness, strikes me dead;  
And she no more good nature shows,  
But triumphs over vanquished foes.  
And without rest,  
Torments my breast,  
So tyrants do those people humbly greet,  
Whom when once crowned, they trample under feet.   

Though her disdain so high should rise,  
My passion wholly to despise;  
Yet I would rather choose to die,  
Than to attempt my Liberty.  
And would the pain,  
Of her disdain;  
With an unweari'd suffering mind endure,  
Hating all things that would effect my cure.    

A Song.  

I  told Young Jenny I loved her,  
With a zeal that I thought would have moved her;  
And I gave her earnest in hand to boot,  
For I knew by my bargain, I could stand too't:  
But the Gipsy cunningly taught by her fire,  
cried mary or else forsake me:  
When you've filled my belly and your desire,  
You'l be hanged before you will take me.   

But her Old Dad, of his own accord  
Did make himself as drunk as a Lord;  
And in hopes to find it a wedding day,  
So I took up my Jenny and carr'd her away;  
Let her scratch and bite, let her kick and wince  
Now I've got her into my Clutches;  
She's witty and fair, she's a gem for a Prince,  
And in time she may be a duchess.    

The Drunkard's Song.  

THough our Rubyfy'd Noses with Diamonds are hung,  
And our Carbuncled faces are fi'ry as the Sun,  
Though a read Sea surrounding our half drowned brain,  
quiter ore-runs his banks, and so flows back again.  
Though our heads are so giddy, our heels cannot bear ' um.  
And our brains so o're-who Ins'd that our wits cannot steer 'em  
Hang't this is nothing, draw a Quart of the same,  
And when that is out, Sirrah, fill it again;  
And let this be your course, till your Vacuated Tun  
Does sound like an Echo and tell you, all's run:  
No glory like that of our Studs by your Nectar,  
Nor honour compared to the Name of an Hector.    

The Request to Lucinda.  

Lucinda wink, and Veil those eyes,  
Where thousand Loves in ambush lies,  
Their darts are pointed with such skill,  
They're sure to hurt, if not to kill,  
Let pitty move thee to seem blind,  
Least seeing, thou destroy man kind.  
Lucinda, shut those Lips, for fear  
The treasure of thy teeth appear;  
For pearl and Coral we so Love,  
To gain them, all men cheats will prove,  
Then shut those Lips and close those eyes,  
Least thou connive at robbery.    

A Song.  

ME thinks the poor Town has been troubled too long  
With Phillis and Cloris in every Song;  
By Fools, who, at once, can both Love and despair,  
And will never leave calling them cruel and fair  
Which justly provokes me, in rhyme, to express  
The truth that I know of bonny Black Bess.   

This Bess of my Heart, this Bess of my Soul,  
Has a Skin white as milk, and Hair black as coal;  
She's plump, yet with ease, you may span round her waste,  
But her round swelling Thighs can scaroe be embraste:  
Her belly is soft, not a word of the rest.  
But I know what I think when I drink to the best.   

The ploughman, and Squire, the erranter Clown,  
At home she subdued in her Paragon Gown;  
But now she adorns the Boxes and Pit,  
And the proudest town Gallants are forced to submit:  
All hearts fall a leaping where ever she comes,  
And beat day and night, like my Lord Drums.   

I dare not permit her to come to Whitehall,  
For she'd out-shine the Ladies, Paint, Jewels, and all:  
If a Lord should but whisper his love in the crowd,  
She'd sell him a Bargain, and Laugh out aloud.  
Then the overhearing what Betty did say,  
Would sand Mr. to take her away.   

But to those that have had my dear Bess in their arms,  
She's gentle, and knows how to soften her charms:  
And to every beauty can add a new Grace,  
Having learned how to lisp, and to trip in her place:  
And with Head on one side, and a Languishing Eye,  
To kill US, by looking is if SHE would die.    

A Song.  

FOrgive me Jove!  
Or, if there be a kinder God above,  
Forgive a Rebel to the Power of Love:  
He●r me( kind Cupid) and accept my Vow,  
Mine, who devoutly at thine Altar bow:  
O! he●r me now:  
Dorinda hear, and what I've done amiss  
Pardon, and seal that pardon with a Kiss.  
Stay! methinks the melting Saint,  
Kindly echoes my complaint;  
Look! I fancy I descry  
Pitty drooping from her eye;  
Hark! she says Philander live,  
All thy errors I forgive:  
And now, ah me! to repent I begin,  
That against so much goodness I ever should Sin;  
But never again, oh! never will I,  
Offend my Dorinda, for sooner I'll die.    

Song.  

AT the fight of my Phillis, from every part,  
A Spring-tide of joy does flow up to my heart,  
Which quickens each pulse, and swells ev'ry vein,  
But all my delights are still mingled with pain.   

So strange a distemper sure love cannot bring,  
To my knowledge, love was a more quieter thing;  
So gentle, and tame, that he never was known,  
So much as to wake me, when I lay alone:   

But the Boy is much grown, and so altered of late,  
He's become a more furious passion than hate:  
Since by Phillis restored to the Empire of hearts▪  
He has new strung his bow, and sharpened his darts:  
And strictly the rights of his Crown to maintain,  
He break's ev'ry heart, and turns ev'ry brain.   

My Madness alas! I too plainly discover;  
For he is( at least) as much madman as lover,  
Who for one cruel beauty, is ready to quit  
All the Nymph's of the Stage, and those of the Pit;  
The joys of Hide-Park, and the Mall's dear delight,  
To live sober all day, and chast all the night.    

A Song.  

NAy! let me alone,  
I protest I'll be gone:  
'Tis a folly to think I'll be subject to One:  
Never hope to confine  
A Young Gallant to dine,  
Like a Scholar of Oxford, on nought but the loin:  
For, after Enjoyment, our Bellies are full,  
And the same Dish again makes the Appetite dull.   

By your Wantoning Art:  
Of a Sigh, and a Start,  
You endeavour, in vain, to inveigle my heart:  
For the Pretty Disguise  
Of your Languishing Eyes,  
Will never prevail with my Sinews to rise:  
And 'twas never the Mode, in an Amorous Treat,  
When a Lover has dined, to persuade him to eat.   

Faith Betty the Jest  
Is almost at the best,  
'Tis only variety makes up the Feast.  
For when we've enjoyed,  
And with pleasures are cloyed:  
The vows that we made to love, ever are voided:  
And you know, pretty Nymph, it was ever unfit  
That a Meal should be made of a Relishing Bit.    

Song.  

IS Celadon unkind? it cannot be:  
Or is he so unconstant grown  
To slight my vows, and break his own?  
Forbid it Heaven! no it cannot be.  
Then my good Angel, whither is he fled?  
Tell me, Oh! tell me softly; is he dead?  
Ah prophetic soul forbear!  
Least I languish in despair:  
No, my heart, when e're he dyes,  
In the pain must sympathise:  
Since my soul and his are one,  
He cannot live or die alone.  
Florella forbear to distrust, or repined,  
Since his love and his sufferings are equal with thine:  
And when he returns, if ever again?  
We'l Kiss away sorrow, and Laugh away pain.    

A Song.  

AH Cruel Eyes! that first inflamed  
my poor resistless heart:  
That when I would my thoughts have blamed,  
they still increase the smart:  
What ●●wer above  
Creates such Love,  
To languish with desire?  
May some disdain  
increase my pain,  
Or may the flamme expire.   

And yet I die to think how soon  
My wishes may return,  
If slighted, and my hope once gone,  
I must in silence mourn:  
Then Tyranness,  
Do but express,  
The Mystery of your power,  
'Tis as soon said,  
You'l love and wed,  
As studying for't an hour.   

I yield to Fate, though your fair eyes  
Have made the power your own;  
'Twas they did First, my heart surprise,  
Dear Nymph! 'twas they alone:  
For honours sake,  
Your heart awake;  
And let your pitty move;  
Least in despair  
Of one so fair,  
I bid adieu to Love.    

Song.  

LIfe of my Soul! return, return;  
Must I for ever sigh and mourn?  
The pains in thy absence that I do endure  
Thou never shalt know, yet thou only canst cure:  
Then come away! hast away! Life is but short,  
It cannot be longer without a support.   

How does my gladded soul rejoice.  
To hear the music of his voice?  
Then thanks, Oh Love! to thy powerful charms,  
And welcome, dear Shepherd! to Floria's arms:  
We'l banish all sorrow, and cast away fear,  
'Twere a sin to be sad, now my Celadon's here.    

A Song in Epsom-Wells.  

HOw pleasant is mutual Love, when 'tis true!  
Then, Phillis, let us our affections unite:  
For the more you love me, and the more I love you.  
The more we contribute to each others delight:  
But they that enjoy without loving first,  
Still eat without Stomach, and drink without thirst.   

Such is the poor fool, who lives upon duty,  
Because a caconical Coxcomb has made him;  
And ne'er tastes the sweets of Love, and of beauty:  
But drudges, because a dull Priest has betrayed him:  
But who from enjoyment in Love take their measure,  
Are wrapped in delight, and still ravished with pleasure.   

Each Night he's a bridegroom, and she is a Bride,  
their minds, and their bodies do both so agree,  
That neither shall pleasure from th' other divide,  
But both at one instant shall satisfied be:  
Let fools, for convenience, be drawn to their Love,  
But this is the way, real pleasures to prove.    

A Song in Epsom. -Wells.  

OH how I abhor  
The tumult, and smoke of the town?  
The Clamours of War,  
The glittering Court, and the fraudulent Gown,  
The Suburh debauches,  
The Cheats of the City:  
The rattling of Coaches,  
And the noise of the men they call witty.  
But give me the man from all vanity free,  
With good store of Land,  
And a Country Command,  
Who honest dares he,  
Who justice dares do, and the Nation would serve,  
And ne'er from his true Country Principles swerve:  
This, this is the Man for me.  
While the fluttering vain Gallant, in London, consumes  
His Estate in rich clothes, and Perfumes:  
And makes his face shine,  
With Burgandy Wine:  
Spends his Youth, and his Wealth on a Punk, or a bawd,  
While such shall his wit, and his bounty applaud:  
Give me the good man, that lives on his own Grounds,  
And in his own bounds,  
Has room for his Hawks, and his Hounds:  
Can feast his omn Tenants, with Fowls, and with Fishes;  
And from his own plenty, with good store of dishes;  
And not with damned Wine, but with good English Ale,  
o'er their honest hearts can prevail;  
And nothing to others doth owe,  
But from his own house hears his own Oxen Low,  
And his own Sheep bleat,  
Whilst the grateful sounds sweet echoes repeat;  
This, this is the man who is truly called great.    

Song.  

LO! behind a Scene of Seas,  
Under a Canopy of Trees,  
The fair new Golden World was laid.  
Sleeping, like a harmless Maid,  
Till alas! she was betrayed:  
In such shades Urania lay,  
Till love discovered out a way;  
And now she crys, some power above,  
Save me from this Tyrant Love.   

Her poor heart had no defence,  
But its Maiden innocence;  
In each sweet rotiring eye  
You might easily descry  
Troops of yielding beauties fly;  
Leaving rare unguarded treasure  
To the conquerors will and pleasure:  
And now she crys, &c.   

Now, and then, a straggling frown,  
( Though the shade slips up and down)  
Shooting such a piercing dart,  
As would make the Tyrant smart,  
And preserve her lips and heart:  
But alas her Empires gone,  
Throne, and Temples all undone:  
And now she crys, &c.   

Charm aloft, those stormy Winds,  
That may keep these Golden Mines,  
And let Spaniards Love be tore,  
On some cruel Rocky Shore,  
Where he'l put forth to Sea no more.  
Least poor conquered beauty cry,  
Oh I'm wounded! Oh I die!  
And then, there is no power above  
Can save me from this Tyrant Love.    

Song in Love in a Nunnery.  

LOng betwixt hope, and fear, Phillis tormented,  
shunned her own wish, yet at last she consented,  
But loathe that day should her blushes discover,  
Come gentle night( she said)  
Come quickly to my aid,  
And a poor shamefaced Maid  
hid from her Lover.   

Now could as Ico I am, now hot as Fire,  
I dare not tell myself my own desire;  
But let day fly away, and bid night hast her,  
Grant ye kind powers above,  
Slow hours to parting Love,  
But when to Bliss we move,  
Let them fly faster.   

How sweet it is to Love, when I discover  
Those flames that burn my Soul, warming my Lover:  
'Tis pitty Love so true should be mistaken,  
If that this night he be,  
False, or unkind to me,  
Let me die, e'r I see  
That I 'm forsaken.    


A Song by Sea-men.  
TO Plough the wide Ocean go we,  
Though the merciless Waves  
Still show us our Graves,  
And the black, black tempost surround us,  
Though dangers, and fears do confounded us,  
Let it blow, let it blow, we care not a feather  
For the could North-wind, nor the rain;  
We'l into the main:  
And fear, and fear, neither Rocks, nor the weather:  
Let serving-men take care, grow wretched, and poor,  
And think themselves happy at home;  
Whilst freely we ramble to wealthier Shores,  
And are happy where ever we come.    

A Song in the Dutch-Lover.  

A Mintas lead me to a Grove,  
Where all the Trees did shade us,  
The Sun itself, though it had striven,  
It could not have betrayed us;  
The place secured from human eyes,  
No other fear alows,  
But when the wind doth gently rise,  
To kiss the yielding boughs.   

( 2)  
Down there we sat upon the moss,  
And did begin to play,  
A thousand wanton tricks, to pass  
The heat of all the day;  
A many kisses he did give,  
And I return'd the same,  
Which made me willing to receive  
That which I dare not name.   

( 3)  
His Charming eyes no aid required  
To tell their amorous tale;  
On her that was already fired,  
'Twas easy to prevail:  
He did but kiss, and clasp me round,  
Whilst those his thoughts expressed,  
And laid me softly on the ground,  
Oh! who can guess the rest.    

Song.  

O! the time that is past,  
When she held me so fast,  
And declared that her honour no longer could last,  
When no light, but her languishing eyes did appear,  
To prevent all excuses of blushes and fear.   

When she sighed, and unlac'd,  
With such trembling and hast,  
As if she had longed to be closer embraced:  
My Lips the sweet pleasure of Kisses enjoyed,  
While my hand was in search of hide treasure employed.   

My heart set on fire  
With the flames of desire,  
I boldly pursued what she seemed to require:  
But she cried, for pitty sake, change your ill mind,  
Pray amyntas be civil, or I'll be unkind.   

Dear amyntas, she crys,  
Then casts down her eyes,  
And in Kisses she gives, what in words she denys:  
Too sure of my conquest, I purposed to stay  
Till her freer consent had more sweetened the prey.   

But too late I begun,  
For her passion was done:  
Now, amyntas, she crys, I will never be won:  
Your tears, and your Courtship, no pitty can move,  
For you've sli●hted the Critical Minute of Love.    

A Drinking Catch.  

LEts drink, dear Friends, lets drink▪  
The time flies fast away,  
And we no leisure have to think,  
then let's make use on't, while we may:  
When the black Lake we have past,  
farewell to wine, to love, and pleasure,  
To drink, to drink, let's then make hast▪  
To drink we always shan't have leisure:  
Let's Love, let's drink, while we have breath,  
No Love, nor drinking after Death.    

An Answer to▪ let Fortune & Phillis.  

I Love my dear Phillis, and never will change;  
No generous man is suspicious:  
While you question her truth, you provoke her to range,  
And you prove yourself but the more vicious:  
You will, and you won't, your a wonder to me,  
For all others do what the Fates do decree.   

If beauty and humour together, do meet,  
She hath power to make you to love her,  
You're a slave if you ever unshackle your feet,  
And 'tis saucy to say you're above her:  
Where's the ease you can find, if your Love you forego,  
For without my dear Phillis, no comfort I know:  
How pleasant it is to have a fair Miss,  
Though she wound with a Frown, she can heal with a Kiss.    

Song.  

WHen first my free heart was surprised by desire,  
So soft was the wound, and so gentle the fire;  
My sighs were so sweet, and so pleasant the smart,  
I pitied the slave that had ne'er lost his heart:  
He thinks himself happy, and free, but alas!  
He's ●●r from the Heaven that Lovers possess.   

In Nature was nothing I found to compare  
With the beauty of Phillis, I thought her so fair;  
A wit so divine, all her sayings did fill,  
A Goddess she seem, and I thought on her still,  
With a zeal more inflamed, and a passion more true,  
Then a Martyr in flames, for Religion can show.   

More virtues and Graces I found in her mind,  
Then the Schools can invent, or the God's e'r designed:  
She seemed to be min● by each glance of her eye,  
If Mortals may aim at a blessing so high:  
Each day with new favours, new hopes she did give,  
But alas what we wish, we too soon do believe.   

With aweful respect, while I loved and admired,  
But feared to attempt what I so much desired:  
In a moment the life of my hopes was destroyed,  
For a Shepherd more daring, fell on and enjoyed:  
But in spite of my Fate, and the pains I endure,  
I will try her again in a second Amour.    

A Song.  

O Love! if e're thou'st case a heart  
That owns the power divine,  
That bleeds with thy too cruel dart,  
And pants with never ceasing smart;  
Take pitty now on mine:  
Under the shades I fainting lie,  
A thousand times I wish to die,  
But when I find could death too nigh,  
I grieve to leave my pleasing pain,  
And▪ all my wishes back again.   

But thus, as I sat all alone,  
I'th shady myrtle Grove;  
When to each gentle sigh, and moan,  
Some neighbouring gave a groan,  
Came by the man I love;  
Oh! how I striven my grief to hid!  
I panted, blushed, and almost died;  
And did each tattling echo chide;  
For fear some breath of moving air  
Should to his cars my sorrows bare.   

And, oh ye powers! I'd die, to gain  
But one poor parting kiss,  
And yet I'd be on wracks of pain,  
E're I'd one thought or wish retain,  
That Honour thinks amiss.  
Thus are poor Maids unkindly used,  
By Love, and nature both abused;  
Our tender hearts all ease refused;  
And when we burn with secret flamme,  
Must bear the grief, or die with shane.    

A New Dialogue Between Tom tinker and his Company.  Tom Tinker. 

WHy should not we be merry?  
What hinders we may not laugh?  
What hinders we may not quaff?  
Sing down a down down a down derry.   His Comp. 

How merrily that man of Mettle,  
Tom Tinker, clapperclaws his Kettle:  
With muzzle drawn to his ear,  
Have you any Skillets to mend?  
Crys he, here's Tom the Wenches friend.   Tom T. 

Come Maids, I'll stop the holes you need not fear,   His Comp. 

Faith Godamercy Tom,  
Thou merry art wherever thou dost come.   Tom. 

Thanks to my Pockets empty,  
For very little money's there,  
But Copper box, and foul Pipes plenty.   Comp. 
If so.  Chorus. 

Then let us laugh, and sing,  
And love each other, like any thing:  
We have no business at the scolding Bar,  
Nor can we ought lose in bloody War:  
We can lose but empty Purses,  
'Tis better so, than fil'd with Widows Curses;  
Mirth is diet, honesty our clothing,  
Hang worldly pelf▪ by Jove 'tis less then nothing.    

A Song of the Whining-Lover.  

SEE! where the Lover comes, with arms cros-wise,  
With staggering feet, and pent-house o'er his eyes.  
He swears he's blind, and I could wish th'event,  
Would truly perfect his false compliment;  
He's mad, he's not himself: Milk sop, we know  
That they are worse, who do not think thee so;  
Then, for a melting close, he crys in print,  
My heart doth bleed, I would my knife were in't.  
One while he sighs, then swears, then preys, then curses:  
Ladies look to't, his plot's upon your purses:  
Can't the v●ins swell, the body itch, the blood  
Dance out it's wanton measures, like a flood:  
Can't he whine out, my dear! my heart's oppressed,  
My blood does burn, my eyes can take no rest?  
And if not pitied, call for halter, knife,  
Poison, or any thing to end his Life?  
But these must truckle to the sacred name  
Of Love; and prostitute her spotless famed:  
●eauties below, by ●ll the Gods above,  
Y'are guled, ab●●'d, 'tis lechery, not Love.    

Song on the London Ladies.  

( 1)  
TIme was, thou must dwindle thy money, and time,  
And the dearest of all thy vigour, and prime;  
To Court a Coy mistress, that longed for't as much  
As thou couldst desire to give ber a touch:  
But now the rate's known; the best will turn up  
For a Guiny, a Pullet, and tother odd cup:  
A World 'tis of pleasure, one Necklace of Pearl,  
Will conjure the richest, or modestest Girl.   

( 2)  
All Trade is for gain, all Commodities sold,  
Fear not; for thy coin thou mayst justly be bold:  
Apox on fine words; the contemplative fool  
Talks of Love, and of flamme; and oh! what mis-rule  
These keep in his heart: now a sigh then a groan;  
And her very ideas sufficient alone  
To fill him with raptures, sweet dreams, and what not!  
When alas! all the while, her flames are as hot.   

( 3)  
In company with her, each glance drops a Charm,  
And she gives him her hand, to keep him still warm;  
For this is the man she designs her lewd life,  
To cloak with the serious name of a Wife:  
To the modest all distance; with those that are free  
She can tickle, and kiss, and kinder yet be:  
Adieu to fond Courtship! all arguments lie,  
In the briskest assault, when the pockets let fly.   

( 4)  
Love is banished the world, and virtue is gone,  
To some private recess, to lament all alone;  
For now she grows Barren, and none of her race  
Can be found, either with, or without a good face:  
To the Mal, to the Park, to the Pit, or the Box;  
Where you will, you can't miss: ' there's meet for the Cocks.  
And thus will it be; for old Eve at the first,  
And her Daughters e'r since have made all Men accursed.    

A Song: By a Lady, whose Love was opposed by her Mother.  

TOO justly alas! and yet too much in vain,  
Of a fate too severe, may the Lover complain,  
Whose soul is divided and tortured like mine,  
When his Duty forbids what his Love doth enjoin:  
Yet Parents in vain do a passion withstand;  
For we cannot obey, where we cannot command.   

Sure Nature designed us a blesseder state;  
There's no other Creature but ch●oses her Mate,  
And the Turtles, in Pairs, through an Amorous Grove  
Do Love where they like, and enjoy where they love:  
What Tyrants are those, who seek to destroy  
The liberty we do, by Nature enjoy?   

Yet, since 'tis a fate that the Gods have ordained,  
That our wills should be free, though our power be restrained:  
We'l love whilst we live; for the constant, at last,  
Do the perfectest joys of elysium taste:  
And there— Oh there, we may Love out our fill,  
When to do, and enjoy, are the same as to will.    

A Song.  

IN what desperate earnest, said I,  
At Lucasia's fair feet will I die!  
And I thought myself slain,  
Till I thought on't again:  
Then I found it was but in conceit,  
And nothing at all but a Cheat.   

An Eye, or a Lip, or a Nose,  
Or a Cheek, that's compared to a Rose▪  
Do intend us no ill;  
Nor are destined to kill:  
For the pleasures we here cannot have,  
'Tis a madness to seek in the Grave.   

The business of Love's to enjoy,  
To increase, and not to destroy:  
If a Nymph has no fire,  
Soon it cools my desire:  
I can live, though Lucasia be shy,  
Nor unless in Enjoyment will die.    

A Song.  

FIe, Cloris, 'Tis silly to sigh thus in vain,  
'Tis silly to pitty the Lovers you've slain;  
If still you continue your Slaves to deride,  
The passion you feign, will be taken for pride:  
And sorrow for sin can never be true,  
In one that does daily commit it anew.   

If While you are fair, you resolve to be coy,  
You may hourly repent, as you hourly destroy:  
Yet none will believe you, protest what you will,  
That you grieve for the dead, if you daily do kill:  
And where are our hopes when we zealously woe?  
If you vow to abhor what you constantly do.   

Then Cloris, be kinder, and tell me my Fate,  
For the worst I can suffers to die by your hate:  
If this you design, never fancy in vain,  
By your sighs, and your tears, to recall me again;  
Nor weep at my Grave, for( I swear) if you do,  
As you now laugh at me, I will then laugh at you.    

A Song.  

FRom Friends, all inspired with brisk Burgundy wine,  
Speaking raptures of Reason, and sayings Divine:  
I come, I come, from this heaven I come▪  
Through dirt and darkness I willingly roam,  
To follow a boy, who confesses he's blind:  
He tells me of hope, but leads me through fear,  
And sometimes I'm just on the brink of Despair:  
But on I follow, I follow; still leaving behind,  
My two mighty blessings, my bottle, and friend:  
He tells me of hope beyond this,  
But will not declare where my journey shall end.   

Chorus. Ah! What charms have those Eyes▪  
That a Love so strong can inspire?  
It Mirth, Wit, and Friendship defies;  
And Wine cannot slacken its Fires.  
In spite of myself I must follow him still▪  
A Devil, or a God, let him be which he will▪  
I cannot, nay will not retire,  
No; Though I were sure to be burned in the fire.    

Song.  

ADieu my Cordelia, my dearest adieu,  
No passion, more slighted, was ever more true;  
No torment severer then this could you prove,  
To enjoin him to absence, that's chained by your Love.   

subdued by your Charms, you inflamed my desire,  
Till a spark▪ from your eyes set my heart all on fire;  
O cruelty shown, no offence but Love known,  
exiled, and outlawed, by a hard▪ heart of ston.    

Song.  

MUst I, fair Ruler of my Fate,  
Expect your favour, or your hate?  
And give myself a larger scope,  
Or, to my fear resign my hope?  
Or have ill grounded doubts possessed  
The place you gave me in your breast.   

Some beauties with a proud disdain,  
Glory in their adorers pain;  
Some meet their Amorous desires,  
And burn with happy mutual fires:  
But lovely Tyrant, none but you  
Are cruel and obliging too.    

An Old Shepherd Courts a Young Nymph.  Shep. 

AH Cloris! What came from those Eyes▪  
I feel the strange lightning gone through my heart  
My thoughts are on fire, and brisk motions arise,  
I grow active in every part.  
My blood dances fresh in every vein,  
'Tis so hot, I've no leisure to wooe;  
I cannot, I cannot contain,  
I prithee, dear Cloris let's do.   Nymph. 

Away! you Old Fool▪ you talk of a fire,  
With Ice in your Face, and Snow on your Head:  
When sixty years since, you ceased to desire,  
And so long have been dumb to your Bed.  
Go court a dry Mummy, or let your could rheum,  
And implacable venomous itches,  
Prepare for your Lust, and unpity'd consume,  
To distil'um to poison for nymphs.   Shep. 

Alas your rebukes are too too severe,  
These decays of my age shall be mended by Art,  
These hairs that are milky, shall sable appear,  
And this back shall be tough as my heart:  
These eyes, now benighted, shall sparkle like Stars,  
These joints, now benumbed, shall revive from their Earth;  
I'll have an elixir shall make me a Mars,  
A Dozen of Cupids I'll get at a birth.   Nymph. 

Ah! ah! Poor Shepherd! what Learning or Art,  
Can call back the time that is flown?  
What chemical medicine a cure can impart,  
For a life quiter faded and gone?  
All over th' art dead, yet in pitty I have,  
Some branches of Cypress and Yew:  
Some melancholy green, I'll bring to thy grave,  
Where I'll sigh, if I can, and bid thee adieu.   Chorus. 

Some melancholy green I'll bring to thy grave,  
Where I'll sigh, if I can, and bid thee adieu.    

Song.  

THou art so fair, and cruel too,  
I am amazed what I shall do  
To compass my desire;  
Sometimes thy eyes do me invite,  
But when I venture kill me quiter,  
Yet still increase my fire.   

Oft have I tried my Love to quell,  
And thought its fury to repel,  
Since I no hopes do find:  
But when I think of leaving thee,  
My heart as much doth torture me,  
As 'twould rejoice, if kind.   

I still must Love, though hardly used,  
And never offer but refused;  
Can any suffer more?  
Be coy, be cruel, do thy worst,  
Though for thy sake I am accursed;  
I must and will adore.    

Song.  

AH fading joy,  
〈◇〉 quickly art thou past,  
〈◇〉 we thy ruin hast:  
And w 〈…〉 would die,  
〈…〉 stroy;  
A 〈…〉 of human Life were few,  
We seek out new;  
And follow Fate that does too fast pursue.  
In vai● does Natures bounteous hand supply,  
What pe●vish Mortals to themselves deny.  
See how, on every bough the Birds express  
In their wild Notes their happiness,  
Not anxious how to get or spare  
They on their Mother Nature, lay their Care▪  
Why then should man, the Lord of all below  
Such troubles choose to know  
As none of all his Subjects undergo?    

Chorus.  

Hark! Hark! the Waters fall,  
And with a murmuring sound,  
Dash, dash, upon the ground,  
To gentle Slumbers call.    

A Song▪  

WHy Cloris should you on him frown,  
who always owned your power?  
The glory of that Triumph's gone,  
Where no resistance could be shown,  
I was your Slave before.   

May some more noble enterprise,  
Your charming force engage?  
Such as rebel against your eyes,  
Or dare your haughty mean despise,  
Are Objects for your Rage.   

So you your Empire may advance,  
And you secure your Reign,  
For thus your Conquest youl enhance,  
While some great Captive every glance  
Reduces to your Chain.   

But while you ' midst your Trophies are,  
Scorn not your Loyal Slave;  
For should I equal penance shore  
With those that once rebellious were;  
Twou'd bring me to my grave.    

A Song.  

THey call, they call, what voice is that?  
A Lady in despair,  
Whose Tears and Sorrows come too late  
Her loses to repair;  
By too much Pride I've lost a heart  
I languish to regain,  
And yet I'd kill the man I Love,  
E'r own my pleasing path:  
Some gentle Spirit show the fate  
Of him I Love, but fain would hate.   

In vain, in vain, thou seekest our aid  
Thy passion to remove,  
For see alas the foul event  
Of thy too tragic Love:  
See, see, the Crown thou didst disdain,  
Another Brow must wear,  
Then sigh and weep no more in vain,  
But die in deep despair:  
May this be all proud beauties fate,  
Still to repent their pride too late.    

Song.  

PEace, Cupid, take thy Bow in hand,  
I'th' Gloomy Shade in ambush stand  
To watch a cruel Nymph frequents this bower,  
could as the Streams, but sweeter then each flower;  
There, there, she is, direct thy Dart,  
Into that Stony Marble heart:  
Draw, quickly draw, and show thy Art,  
Wo's me I thou art blind indeed, thou hast shot me,  
Whiles she scapes in the Grove, and Laughs at thee;  
And Laughs, &c.    

Song.  

WHen first, fair Saint, I thought you kind,  
Joy over-flow'd my ravished mind;  
But since your kindness you decline,  
And I can never part with mine,  
I am with juster grief oppressed,  
Than if I never had been blessed.   

O fair Utrecia, if you knew  
The torments I endure for you,  
My patient hopes despair, my frights  
Uneasie days and waking nights:  
Your rigour, or your love would free,  
My heart from you, or yours from me.    

A Dialogue, Between Two Sisters in Love.  First Sister. 

TEll me, O tell what cruel smart,  
Hath entered my unwearied heart;  
What name to give the fatal wound,  
For sure in you the like is found;  
Our Blushes and our sighs agree,  
And all my symptoms are in thee.   Second Sister. 

'Tis true, my mind's of late possessed,  
With a pretty violent guest:  
Yet what to call't, or whence it grew,  
I am as ignorant as you.   First Sister. 

I saw a goodly Youth of late,  
It may be then began my flate:  
For ever since my fancy brings;  
To my unquiet mind, strange things.   Second Sister. 

I too alas! exactly well,  
The Youth, the time, the place can tell;  
Before that hour, my quiet thought,  
On none but Maiden pleasures wrought;  
I mildly first commended him,  
Till I was caught by my own Theme.   Second Sister. 

At first assault I never striven,  
Never suspecting 'twould be Love.   First Sister. 

In vain my passion I conceal,  
For my concealments more reveal.   Second Sister. 

I walk alone, and start and muse,  
I long and hope, yet would refuse,  
I chide my heart, I know not why,  
Fain would be ignorant, yet fain would try.   First Sister. 

Good nature, first I thought it was  
For kindness only it did pass,  
Till the deceiver of my heart did fill;  
And by those feigned Names did truly kill.   Chorus. 

Many thousand Follies are,  
The unhappy Lovers share,  
Doubtful Pangs, and wild desires,  
Immoderate heat, unruly fires;  
Tides of relenting and disdain,  
Quiv'ring rapture, Joy and Pain:  
But with these fantastic things;  
Love many true perfections brings.    

A Song.  

HOw bonnny and brisk, how pleasant and sweet;  
Were Jenny and I, while my passion was strong?  
So eagerly each others flamme we did meet,  
That a minutes delay did appear to be long.  
The vows that I made her, she sealed with a kiss,  
Till my soul I had lost in a rapture of Bliss.   

2  
I vowed and I thought I could ever have loved,  
Where beauty and kindness together I found,  
So Sweetly she looked, and so sweetly she moved,  
That I fancied my strength with my joys to abound:  
For the pleasure I gave, she did doubly requited;  
By finding out ever new ways to delight.   

3  
At last when enjoyment had put out my fire,  
My strength was decayed and my passion was done;  
So palled was my fancy, so tame my desire,  
That I from the Nymph, very fain would have gone.  
Ah! Jenny said I, we adore you in vain;  
For beauty enjoyed do's but turn to disdain.    
FINIS.