Mars and Venus: OR, The Amorous Combatants.  

Mars strives for to give Venus' Castle the rout,  
But she most valiantly did beat him out;  
He lost the day for all he was three to one,  
He could not stay, his powder all was gone:   

And furthermore he got a sore mischance,  
To save some Balls he spoilt his best Lance;  
She bids him come as often as he will,  
For all his force, she can resist him still.   
To a pleasant New Tune, or, Mars and Venus.  
 
 

A Broad of late as I was walking,  
in the Fields to take the air,  
Mars and Venus there was talking,  
in a pleasant shady Bower.  
I stepped close and sat down by them,  
They little thought I had been so nigh them,  
for to understand the matter,  
Whereunto they scamed their talk,  
Mars vapoured thus as he did walk.   

Says Mars I am the God of Battle,  
and chief General of the Field;  
I long to hear the Cannon's cattle,  
I am armed with Lance, Spear & Shield  
I set forth with strong invasions,  
I conquer Castles, Towns, and Nations,  
there's no Champion dare resist me,  
I conquer all where e'er I go,  
In spite of him that dare say no.   

But hark you Mars, methinks you vapour,  
there's one Castle you ne'er won;  
The Mistress of it ne'er drew Rapier,  
and of it there's never a Gun:  
Yet I dare say both marks & pounds on't  
that if e'er you come within the bounds on't  
e'er you come off, you'll lose men there;  
And be forced for to retreat,  
And it's ten to one but you'll be beat.   
 
 

IN truth (said Mars) could I but spy it,  
I will venture there to fight;  
That same Castle if e'er I come nigh it,  
I will storm it by day or by night:  
Tell me therefore where it standeth,  
And the names the which it commandeth,  
that same Castle which you treat on,  
And I will thank you for your pains,  
And be sure of this I'll make you amends.   

It's Coney-hall, near Navil-court,  
It's at the Fort of Belly-hill;  
Near Blew-hole-lane you may resort to't  
or Bum-alsey whether you will.  
Through Placket-entry there is the way to't  
In the low-countrieses there you may go to't  
Venus she's the Mistress of it,  
And was never conquered by War,  
Although there be no fence but hair.   

Up to this Castle Mars drew his Army,  
and Bum-alley up did block;  
He was clad in gallant Armour,  
she her own field filled with her smock,  
He said such a close siege round about it,  
that there was none could come in or out it  
this called Venus to a parley,  
And to Mars away she went,  
Desiring for to know his intent.   

Says Mars I am come to win this Castle,  
and I'll take it before I go,  
Says Venus it's in vain to wrestle,  
you cannot enter it as a Foe:  
You must beat a Alarm on my belly,  
A point of War a Croopers rally,  
Tat too, Tat too, we march away boy's  
Tick Track is a gallant sport,  
And on these terms i'll yield the Fort.   

Up to this Castle Mars he ventured,  
and in it he thrust his Lance;  
But he repented that he had ventured,  
for his Weapon got a mischance:  
And straightway it fell sick upon it,  
And in Coney-hall was forced to vomit,  
that caused Venus to be angry,  
And out o'th' door she did him kick,  
And was not that an uncivil trick:   

Says Mars I am by a woman soiled,  
I will never come there any more,  
I fear my Lance that she hath spoiled,  
when she kicked me out o'th' door:  
Farewell Venus, farewel Coney-hall,  
Farewell Bum-alley, adieu to you all,  
I will ne'er come there any more boys,  
Except that she had proved more true,  
And so I bid you all adieu.   
FINIS   

Printed for J. Wright, J. Clarke, W. Thacker and T. Passenger.