WIT● ACADEMY.    

THE Wit's Academy: OR, THE MUSES DELIGHT.  
Consisting of merry Dialogues upon various occasions composed of Mirth, Wit, and Eloquence, for a help to discourse to such as have had but small converse with the critical sort of people, which live in this censorious Age.  
AS ALSO, Divers sorts of Letters upon 〈◊〉 occasions both merry and Jocose, helpful for the inexpert to imitate, and pleasant to those of better Judgement, at their own 〈◊〉 to peruse.  
WITH A perfect Collection of all the newest and best Songs, and Catches, that are, and have been lately in request at Court, and both the Theatres.  
LONDON Printed, and are to be sold by most Booksellers in London and Westminster. 1●77.   

Licenced,  
April 10. 1676. Roger Le' Estrange.   

THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO THE READER.  
Courteous Reader,  
WHen first you cast an Eye upon the Title Page of this small Volume be not too soon censorious in giving judgement to condemnation: for daily errors we do see committed, by those that rashly give their ill opinion of the outward shape, suggesting what they do not understand; for Fronti nulla Fides, is as true, as that we may observe amongst the Spanish Gentry, who line their garments with the richest Silk, when as the outside is but mean and course. The Title of this Book I must confess is little different from that piece of weatherbeaten Antiquity, vulgarly known by that once famous Name of, The Academy of Compliments; But turn aside the Frontispiece and read, beginning with the Dialogues, and so proceed till you have viewed all over, and the reason of your mistake will soon be unmasqued, for though Sub sole nihil novum est, yet this you will find to be far different from any other tract which has preceded of this Nature; exemplary works are for the most part very laudable, especially when we make an imitation on those which have been Famous, Learned, and Nobly extracted, etc. Yet in undertake of this Nature, imitation is only deemed to be the barren products of a threadbare Fancy, and that which a Man can't properly call his own. As for the Dialogues and the Letters which are contained herein, I challenge as my own, scarce worth the owning; yet for divertisement (as it was with me when I writ them) I hope they'll please you, being either profitable or pleasant to each capacity. As for the Songs I lay not claim to all of them, for they are a Collection composed by the most pregnant and refined Wits of this Age; all which bond up together, I humbly present the Reader with, whose kind acceptance will be understood by his gratifying liberally the Book seller, and giving the unknown Author a good report, who am yours,  
Dum aurâ aethereâ vescor, W. P.   

MERRY DIALOGUES UPON VARIOUS OCCASIONS: Composed of Mirth, Wit, and Eloquence, for a help to Discourse, to such as have had but small Converse with the Critical Sort of People which live in this Censorious Age.  

DIALOGUE 1. A loving Discourse betwixt Samuel and Sarah.  Sam. 
LOve is the cause I have so often made my addresses to you Madam, therefore let me beseech you not to disdain my present Suit.  Sarah, 
You tell me much of Love, but that's a thing I never yet could understand.  Sam. 
The more is my grief, for if you knew it but half so well as I do, I am sure that you would incline your heart to pity my afflictions.  Sarah, 
Why then it seems it is an affliction to be in Love, I am therefore glad I never yet knew what it was.  Sam. 
Yes Madam, 'tis a sorrow and a great affliction to be in Love, and not to be beloved again.  Sarah, 
How's that Sir?  Sam. 
Ah Madam, too well I know it, and 'twil ell it you if you will give me leave.  Sarah, 
Pray Sir, let me hear it.  Sam. 
The sad example which I now shall instance is my own self: I love you Madam, and have often told you so, but you have ever seemed to slight my kind proffers of Love, to my great torment.  Sarah, 
I know not what you mean: wherein have I ever slighted you, pray tell me Sir.  Sam. 
I will Madam: you know I have at several times told you that I loved you, and so well, as to marry you and make you my Wife.  Sarah, 
And call you that love to marry you, and be your Wise, pray how do you make that appear to be love?  Sam. 
Yes, that is love to me, and the greatest love that tongue can e'er express, if that you once would say, that you loved me well enough to be my Wife.  Sarah, 
Why then, I find I do not yet know what love is, for I never could find in my heart to marry you; but pray tell me how you came to love me, and it may be after I hear how you began to love first, that I may learn to follow your example.  Sam. 
Madam, I know your pretended iggorance is but to mock your poor disconsolate Lover, one that adores you above all the World besides; but however, since you say that you will follow my example, in loving me as I love you, I must tell you, Madam, that the first time I ever saw your face, Cupid at that instant of time borrowed Arrows from your bright Eyes, and bending of his Bow, he shot me to the heart, that strait I fell in love with you, and ever since that I received this wound, my lovesick pains grew greater and greater, because you would not grant me love again.  Sarah, 
Methinks you talk most strangely: you tell me of Cupid, pray what is he, and why does he keep a Bow?  Sam. 
Cupid, Madam, is the little god of Love, a Boy he is, whom the Poets relate to be blind; he has a Bow his Mother Venus gave him, and he borrows Arrows from young Lady's Eyes, and when he pleases to sport himself, he bends his Bow and shoots where he pleases, and where ever it hits, that person is so sorely wounded, that he can never rest night nor day, unless the Lady from whose Eyes the Arrows came, will grant him love again; which is my condition, and if you deny me love I shall be of all men most miserable.  Sarah, 
But why do you speak to me Sir to cure you now you say you are wounded? you must apply yourself to that Lady from whence the Arrows came, as for my part I am sure that I have no Arrows in me, nor I would not that there should be any there, for all the world; that were the way to kill me if I had Arrows in my Eyes: but if there be Ladies that have any such things that wound young men, and can also cure them, you had best to cease your discourse with me and seek till you find them out; as for my part (as I told you before) I declare that I keep no Arrows to hurt any one, neither (according to your own words) can I cure any that are so wounded.  Sam. 
Ah Madam, though we have hitherto discoursed after the Romantic Way and Mode, yet you well enough know my meaning; therefore, not to talk any longer at this distance, I must (with your pardon) tell you plainly that I love you Madam, and none but you alone; therefore pity my condition.  Sarah, 
Since you have discovered yourself to be 1 Lover, and for my sake, and not only now on a sudden, but a pretty while since, if I may believe you; but young men are so false, that I know not what to say to you.  Sam. 
You have tried my constancy, for it is some years since (you know) I first offered the tenders of my love to you; and though you answered me still with flat denial, yet you see that I had not so slightly grounded my passion, as that your frowns as yet could make me have an ill opinion of your love.  Sarah, 
Well, since you are resolved to proceed, and will take no denial, know then that I must try you further still; therefore prepare yourself to answer me.  Sam. 
Speak boldly, Madam, and let your demands be ne'er so difficult to perform, if they are in man's power to accomplish, you shall be obeyed, and Madam, gladly too, should you command me this very minute to be my own bloody Executioner.  Sarah, 
No Sir, I wish you long may live and happy, but if you ere intent to be my Bridegroom you must—  Sam. 
What must I do, Madam? speak without fear, your will shall be my pleasure.  Sarah, 
No, I am ashamed to tell you, but yet I can't forbear, but I must tell you, you must—  Sam. 
Dear Madam, speak and blush not.  Sarah, 
Why this it is, you must come now and kiss me, and by that kiss swear, that within the space of six days you will marry me.  Sam. 
Auspicious Heaven, and all ye Powers above, to you on bended knees I first return my thankful Prayers! and next dear Madam, with humble gratitude, I at your feet do prostrate fall, where silence gladly shall show I do consent; for words cannot express my present joy.  Sarah, 
Rise, worthy Sir, you have deserved my love, nor could I longer keep you in despair; from hence call me your own.  Sam. 
My dearest only Joy, you have now for ever blest me, this kiss shall usher in a thousand more; give me your hand I'll wait upon you home.  
Where speedily without the least delay,  
We will appoint our Joyful Wedding day:   

DIALOGUE II. A Discourse betwixt Corydon and Celia.  Corydon, 
WHy dearest Celia should you prove so cruel to him that loves you more than life or any other thing that bears a name? a world of fighs and groans have filled the skies with the Echoes of My Celia, Fair and Cruel Caelia; but no redress as yet I have found: then deign my pretty Paramour at length to smile upon distracted Corydon.  Celia, 
What means the Shepherd thus to trouble me, what Cruelties are these you speak of, for my part I know not of any unkindness that I ever showed to you? What is't you would have, tell me wherein that Caelia has been offensive to you, and without doubt a speedy recompense will be made you?  Corydon, 
Oh would that Corydon could find it so as Celia has told him, soon my dearest Celia should know the cause of all my Miseries and Woes: You need not ask me Celia why I call you Cruel, my looks will tell you though my tongue be silent.  Celia, 
Indeed Corydon you do mistake my skill, for I am no good Physiognomist, neither did I ever pretend to it; therefore if you would that I be made sensible of your grief, you must tell it me downright, and then if it lies in my power to give you ease, and I deny it, you then will have just cause to call me cruel and not before: For no Doctor or Surgeon can tell how to apply any remedy to a Sick Patient, before he knows from whence his distemper springs.  Corydon, 
You cannot be so ignorant as you pretend you are, I cannot think but that you know my grief; 'tis Love, my Dearest Celia, 'tis Love.  Celia, 
How Coryden, did you say Love, or did I mistake that word; speak it again?  Corydon, 
Yes so I will, my Celia, for 'tis Love and the Love of you alone, that I, that I poor Shepherd langaith after thus.  Celia, 
And is it so? Do you Love me so well Corydon, that it makes you sick? Poor man why do you Love me so much then, cannot you forbear?  Corydon, 
Yes I can forbear to live but not to love. Death will be a Welcome Guest to my discontented mind.  Celia, 
Oh Corydon, why do you talk of death, the very name of death affrightens me; prithee tell me Corydon, does love and death keep company together?  Corydon, 
No Celia, Life and Love are companions together, and death associates himself with disdain: Do you not know I love you Celia?  Celia, 
Why what if you do love me, what then? I won't kill you. I hope every body loves me, I am sure my Father and Mother does, and what must I kill them too? God forbidden.  Corydon, 
Ah Celia thy pretty innocence does make me smile, I had thought thou hadst been more crafty, and by consequence more cruel, till now I hear thy answers; but tell me Celia dost thou love me, my sweetest?  Celia, 
Yes indeed do I Corydon, and have done, ever since you and I played together in our Churchyard.  Corydon, 
That's my good Girl, come and kiss me Celia.  Celia, 
Well, are you satisfied now, I hope you will not say I am cruel now, will ye Corydon?  Corydon, 
No, no, my pretty Love; thou art kind to me now; come and let me kiss thee again.  Celia, 
No indeed but you must not.  Corydon, 
Why didst not thou like the last kiss I gave thee Celia?  Celia, 
Yes, I liked it well enough Corydon; but my Mother always charged me that I should not suffer any man to kiss me.  Corydon, 
Did thy Mother never talk of me, Celia?  Celia, 
Yes, very often Corydon; and I told her how you talked of love to me a great while ago, but I knew not what you meant by it, nor done't yet; but my Mother charged me not to come into your company, nor suffer you so much as to touch me; and told me that I must not hear you when you talk of Love, for I must love no body but my Father and Mother.  Corydon, 
Why surely she did not tell thee so, did she Celia?  Celia, 
Yes indeed she did, Corydon, and a great deal more than that; but I shall not name it.  Corydon, 
Yes prithee do Celia, let me hear what 'twas she said to thee?  Celia, 
No, indeed you shall not, 'twas something she bid me not to let you do, but what it was I will not name for all the world.  Corydon, 
No more thou shalt not Celia, for I guess it already, and that's enough for me.  Celia, 
Well if you do, you do, I don't much care; but I vow you make me blush.  Corydon, 
Blush not my Celia, for I will not name it; come sit thee down my Celia upon this green bank, and now we have an opportunity, let us make use of it in discoursing of matters of Love.  Celia, 
I know not what you mean Corydon, but I will sit down a little while with you, for I cannot stay; my Mother charged me not to stay too long.  Corydon, 
Why thy Mother does not know that I am with thee.  Celia, 
No indeed I think not, for if she did, it would be a we day with me; for she cannot abide you, because you talk of Love to me.  Corydon, 
Well but I hope thou wilt love me ne'er theless for that, wilt thou Celia? I am sure I love thee well.  Celia, 
No indeed I love you well enough, and methinks better now then ever I did before.  Corydon, 
I thank thee, Celia, but I have other questions to ask thee concerning love.  Celia, 
What are they Corydon, prithee be not too tedious, for I cannot tarry too long; you know my Mother will chide me.  Corydon, 
Thou sayest thou lovest me Celia, but how well?  Celia, 
Why a great deal, is not that enough?  Corydon, 
Well but dost thou love me well enough to be my Wife and to be married to me?  Celia, 
Why how must I be married to you Corydon?  Corydon, 
Why we must go to Church together, and the Minister after some Prayers said joins our hands together, and then we are Man and Wife: why didst thou never see any married yet?  Celia, 
No not I, never in all my life; but what must we do after marriage Corydon, prithee tell me.  Corydon, 
Why that very night we must go to bed together and lie together so long as we live.  Gelia, 
Oh strange, why then I must not marry with you, for that was the only thing that my Mother charged me to have a care of; and not to lie with you, nor any other man in the whole World, and I dare not do it if you would give me six pence; No, no, I must have a care of that, for I know what I know.  Corydon, 
Why what dost thou mean my Love? when we are married I will get thee brave Boys and Girls of thy own, Child what dost thou think of that?  Celia, 
Oh fie, oh fie, now you have named it all that my Mother has forewarned me against; how dare you name such words, sure God won't bless you Corydon. My Mother told me that God would not bless me if I did but think of such things, much less dare to act them.  Corydon, 
That is to say before Marriage Celia you ought not to act such things, but marriage makes it lawful with your own husband, and not only lawful but honourable it is to be a Mother of Children.  Celia, 
Say you so, Corydon; but my Mother will never yield to this, I am sure on't.  Corydon, 
Well but thy Mother will have nothing to do with thee; after we are married thou art at thy husbands disposing then, no bodies else.  Celia, 
Well I'll go home and tell my Mother what you say, and see whether she will give her consent that I should do all these things with you as you have named or no.  Corydon, 
No, no, my sweetest Celia, by no means, do not acquaint her with it yet.  Celia, 
Why so?  Corydon, 
Because you know that she does not affect me so well as I do you, and therefore you and I must never marry nor ever meet again, if you tell her of any thing that I have said to you.  Celia, 
Why what would you have me do then Corydon?  Corydon, 
Why dost thou love me well enough to be my Wise?  Celia, 
Yes truly Corydon, you have almost persuaded me too't, if my Mother was but willing.  Corydon, 
Why then I'll tell thee, Celia, we will marry first, and I'll warrant thee we will please her well enough afterward.  Celia, 
Think you so Corydon; Well but must I have Boys and Girls too, what will she say to that?  Corydon, 
Why what should she say my Dear, she will rejoice to see thee have Children, which when they come to bigness will ask her blessing.  Celia, 
Well, but I shall be ashamed to have Children; I vow I shall Corydon.  Corydon, 
Prithee don't talk so childishly, my Dear, 'twill be an honour to thee to have children.  Celia, 
Well, but how shall I do to get to bed to thee, I'll swear I shall not have the face to go to bed to a man.  Corydon, 
Well, well, we will do well enough for that, meet me here too morrow morning, Celia, and we will go and be married; till then farewell.  Celia, 
Nay but stay Corydon, I can afford to stay a little while longer now, to talk about having of children and going to bed after we are married.  Corydon, 
Canst thou indeed, poor Rogue, well I love thy innocence, and too morrow at night, thou shalt be satisfied in every thing that thou dost desire to know, and with this sweet kiss at present, I take my leave, not willing to detain thee too long too day, for fear thy Mother's Jealousy should arise, and guests the truth of what we have designed, and so frustrate all our hopes and expectations, by keeping thee a close Prisoner in her house, and not suffer thee to stir abroad any whither, not let me come to see thee: therefore dearest Celia be careful, and say not a word to her of what we have been talking of; for if you do, I am sure our loves for ever will be ruined.  Celia, 
I'll warrant thee Corydon she shall never know the least through me, I can keep my own Counsel well enough; and that she shall find to her anger and vexation.  Corydon, 
'Tis a good Girl, well, far thee well once again; My Dearest, Remember what you have to do too morrow.  Celia, 
Adieu dear Corydon, farewell my loving Shepherd. Yes surely, I shall not forget the time and place of meeting, my Eyes no rest shall take this night; my mind will be employed another way: the thoughts of what I have to do too morrow will busy me enough 'twixt this and then.  
A Virgin pure I'll to the Temple go,  
And there the Marriage Rites of Hymen know.   

DIALOGUE III. A Discourse betwixt two Gentlemen as they were riding on the Road together.  Tiberius, 
GOod morrow to you Sir.  Rowlandus, 
A good morning to you Sir.  Tiberius, 
How far do you ride in this Road Sir?  Rowland, 
As far as I can Sir too day.  Tiberius, 
That's as much as to say as far as your Horse will carry you too day; for possibly you may be capable of riding farther in a day than he is able to perform.  Rowland, 
You say right, Sir, but I love my Horse too well to wrong him by over-riding him.  Tiberius, 
You are the better Master Sir.  Rowland, 
Yes, and by consequence he the better Horse Sir.  Tiberius, 
All this I must confess, Sir; but pray now let me know how far you ride, Sir, this way; for I shall be more than a little glad of your good company, if you will be pleased to accept of mine?  Rowland, 
Sir, Your company will be an honour to me, therefore you need not make any entreaties, for I shall be very forward to conjoin myself with so good society as I sinned you are; and to answer your question, I shall tell you, Sir, that I intent to reach as far Dunstable too night, and there to lie, being in my Road to West-Chester, whither I am bound.  Tiberius, 
In a happy hour I have set forward on my Journey, for I am travelling within ten miles of Chester; therefore I hope I shall enjoy your company so far.  Rowland, 
With all my heart, Sir.  Tiberius, 
Your Horse goes very well Sir, pray what price?  Rowland, 
My Horse is a Mare, Sir, and I think she goes well enough, I am sure she pleases me.  Tiberius, 
No doubt of it Sir, there is no reason why I should mislike her if she pleases you; but how do you like mine Sir?  Rowland, 
Why Sir, for fear I should make the same mistake as you have done, I must tell you that be it Horse or Mare, or what ever the Beast is, I cannot tell but it goes very well.  Tiberius, 
It is (to speak after the Jocose manner, as you have done) a double holed Gelding, a Mare Sir; as we say in English, of the same Sex as yours is, but I think not altogether so stately.  Rowland, 
Well, we'll make no comparisons Sir, but I believe they both may be very good: but where do you intent to Inn, for this night?  Tiberius, 
Why Sir, I would willingly be directed by you; but I'll tell you where I used to lie.  Rowland, 
Pray, where's that Sir.  Tiberius, 
At the Sign of the two Travellers, it is a very good Inn, and there we shall have good entertainment for our Horses and ourselves; I name the convenience for the Horse first, for if they far well I don't question but we shall do well enough.  Rowland, 
You say true Sir, for they cannot speak for themselves, but we can, and I'll warrant you we will want for nothing, no more shall not the Horses; ' or I'll take care of that.  Tiberius, 
You say right Sir, the Mares shall want for nothing, for our first care shall be for them, and then Sir I shall be at your service.  Rowland, 
Sir, I am at your service; but pray what a kind of Hostess have we?  Tiberius, 
Nay Sir you say right, for we have a very kind Hostess.  Rowland, 
How do you mean, Sir?  Tiberius, 
I mean honestly: a very good woman to our Landlady, and i'faith she rules the roast.  Rowland, 
I am glad to hear it Sir, for we intent I hope (at least I do) to have some Roast, but pray have we never an Host or Landlord there?  Tiberius, 
Yes, yes; we have a Landlord, a very good man, that is to say, a very merry Landlord, you shall see when we come there; but as I tell you, the Hostess his Wife, id est, our Landlady, rules the roast.  Rowland, 
And so I would have her Sir: for it properly belongs to that sex to see after the Roast.  Tiberius, 
Well Sir, and so I say too, but no more of this till we come there.  Rowland, 
Agreed Sir, but I think we don't want much of it now.  Tiberius. 
Sir you say true, but shall I be honoured so far as to be a Supper-man with you as well as a Fellow-traveller?  Rowland, 
I hope that question is not to ask now, your invitation was so fair, that I should be a Churl, and a great one, if I should deny you what so readily you have proposed.  Tiberius, 
Why then Sir let's take up our quarters together, but not too fast, now we are nigh our Inn; but let's ride softly, that our Horses, alias, Mares, may not be too hot when we come into our Inn.  Rowland, 
Here Hostler.  Hostler, 
Who calls?  Tiberius, 
Here take our Horses.  Rowland, 
And rub them down clean, and come to us by and by, and you shall be informed what Corn we intent to give them.  Tiberius, 
Will you be pleased to walk into the Kitchen, and see what's there you like for Supper?  Rowland, 
Yes Sir, I'll follow you, it seems you are acquainted with my Landlady; therefore pray walk first and renew your acquaintance with her.  Tiberius, 
Your servant Sir, I'll obey your commands.  
Landlady your humble Servant, how have you done this many a day.  Hostess. 
Why let me see, who's this Master Tiberius?  Tiberius, 
The very same.  Hostess, 
Lord is there such a man alive?  Tiberius, 
Yes I am alive still Landlady; and this Gentleman and I do intent to be your Guests too night.  Hostess, 
Come old Boys, I'll give each of you a kiss if you'll meet me half way, and bid you welcome: So, now you are welcome Gentlemen.  Rowland, 
Well, honest Landlady, what shall we have for Supper?  Hostess, 
Troth e'en what you please Gentlemen.  Tiberius, 
Well but what have you got in the House Landlady?  Hostess, 
Why you may have a couple of Capons, or a couple of Pullet's, or a dozen of Pigeons, with two or three dozen of Larks; you know Sir that we live in the only Lark Country in England: but if you be not pleased with hollow birds, you may have a Shoulder of Mutton, Or a Loin of Veal, or any boiled Meat, if you please.  Tiberius, 
Well Landlady you have named varieties enough, come you know my old Custom, give me a pint of your best Sack, and whilst we are drinking that, we shall have time to consider which of these dishes of Meat to pitch upon.  Hostess, 
You shall have it Sir.  Rowland, 
We have a good Jovial Landlady here I perceive Sir?  Tiberius, 
Yes Sir, she will talk merrily, but I really believe it is only to please her guests; for I am very confident that she is honest.  Rowland, 
No doubt of it Sir, for you know we commonly find that the greatest talkers are the least doers.  Hostess, 
Gentlemen I'll make bold to begin, and present my service to you both, and you are both welcome.  Both, 
Thank you Landlady.  Hostess, 
Mr. Tiberius I'll present it to you first, because you are my old acquaintance.  Tiberius, 
Thank you Landlady.  
Sir my humble service to you, and I thank you for your good company.  Rowland, 
Your servant Sir, I am glad of so good a companion as yourself; come Landlaiy the t'other glass to you, and then we'll think what to have for Supper.  Hostess, 
With all my heart Sir: But Mr. Tiberius, where have you been this many a day?  Tiberius, 
Why about the World Landlady, sometimes in one place, and sometimes in another. You see I am alive still.  Rowland, 
Well Sir, now what shall we have for Supper?  Tiberius, 
Pray Sir do you speak.  Rowland, 
Why I think a shoulder of Mutton, and two or three dozen of my Landladies Larks, since she praises them so much.  Tiberius, 
Agreed, withal my Heart.  
Landlady, pray take care that they be made ready presently.  Hostess, 
They shall Sir, will you be pleased to walk up into your Chamber.  Tiberius, 
Yes Landlady, we will walk up; but though we sup together, yet we must have two Chambers to lie in.  Hostess, 
You shall Sir. What will you be pleased to drink Gentlemen?  Rowland, 
Why let's taste of your Ale and Beer, Landlady, will you?  Hostess, 
Yes you shall Sir. — Exit Hostess.  Tiberius, 
Well, but pray Fellow traveller, give me your absolute Opinion of our Landlady?  Rowland, 
Why Sir, as I told you before, she may be honest; for what I know by her, I am sure she is; but for your own part I believe that you know something by her, by your redoubling the question of what I thought of her; besides that is not all the ground I have for suspicion, for I have observed some amorous wanton glances cast towards you now and then, when we were in the Kitchen, and also since we came up into the Chamber: but what the meaning of it should be is best known to yourself.  Tiberius, 
Fie Sir, Fie, sure you mistake yourself; she did not look and smile on me, did she?  Rowland, 
Nay I am sure I am not mistaken, for she did smile and cast a wanton eye on you too.  Tiberius, 
Well well Sir, how do you like her, did she not kiss well?  Rowland, 
In troth Sir I cannot tell, I took so little notice of it, 'twas only for fashion's sake, that I kissed her; not out of any desire I had to it, but to fulfil the ancient custom.  Hostler, 
What corn will you be pleased to give your Horses, Sirs?  Rowland, 
Why give mine half a peck of Oats too night, and the like quantity in the morning.  Tiberius, 
And let mine have the same.  Hostler, 
They shall Sir.  Rowland, 
Here Hostler, take the pot and drink.  Hostler, 
Thank you Master.  Tiberius, 
Be sure let them have their due.  Hostler, 
I'll warrant you Sir.  Hostless, 
Gentlemen your Supper is ready, will you have it brought up yet?  Rowland, 
Yes, Yes, by all means Landlady, bring it up; for we think long till we be at it: I am sure I do.  Hostess, 
You shall have it immediately Sir; will you be pleased to seat yourselves?  
So here 'tis come now.  Tiberius, 
Come Landlady sit you down pray, where's my Landlord your Husband?  Hostess, 
Alas poor Cuckold, where should he be, he is abroad about his business.  Rowland, 
How's that Landlady, you do but jest sure?  Tiberius, 
No, no, she uses to talk after this rate, I know; but I believe my Landlord is no Cuckold for all that.  Hostess, 
Well, come Gentlemen fall too, I have said grace for you.  Tiberius, 
Well said Landlady, I perceive you are merry; but we will every one say grace for himself.  Rowland, 
So, Now Landlady be pleased to help yourself, and we will cut afterwards.  Tiberius, 
Well Landlady, I know your temper; you cannot eat well without a bottle or two of Claret.  Hostess. 
Well, then if you know my humour, I hope you will let me have it; for I shall live the longer, and I know you would not have me die yet, for you'll never meet with such another Landlady.  Rowland, 
Yes, yes, Landlady, if that a bottle or two of Wine will prolong your days, you shall have that Cordial to be sure; and I am also in your opinion, that a good Supper cannot be made without a bottle or two of Wine.  
Here Boy bring us up a bottle of Claret.  Boy, 
By and by, you shall have it Sir.  Tiberius, 
Come Landlady, have we never a merry Jest at Supper?  Hostess, 
Are you married Sir?  Tiberius, 
Yes, that I am Landlady.  Hostess, 
Why, then you are a Cuckold.  Rowland, 
How do you know that Landlady?  Hostess, 
Why, it follows by confequence, that all men that are married, must of necessity be Cuckolds, because my Husband's one.  Tiberius, 
Suppose your Husband be one, must all men therefore be Cuckolds, because he is so? surely all the Women in the World are not Whores.  Hostess, 
Oh Fie, Mr. Tiberius, I had thought you could not have spoke such a word, I vow I could find in my heart to be angry with you; what must all those women that make their husband's Cuckolds, be called Whores, no sure I hope not?  Rowland, 
Nay, but Landlady, setting all aside, how do you call those Women as make their Husband's Cuckalds? if they are not Whores, I am much mistaken.  Hostess, 
Lord Sir, I had thought that you had lived long enough in the World to know better things: Suppose I or some other Woman, should be willing to satisfy your desires, in that way, rather than disoblige you, methinks you would not call me or the or whoever it be, Whore, for condescending to your will.  Tiberius, 
Why, what would you have her accounted then Landlady?  Hostess, 
You may say she is a kind Woman, or so: a good natured Woman, or so: but the name of whore is so odious, that it deserves not to be given for it, except the party so called be a common strumpet and mercenary, prostrating herself to any sort of fellow, for half a Crown or under; she indeed deserves the Name of Whore, and no other Woman whatsoever.  Rowland, 
Well Landlady, it shall be as you say; come one glass of Claret to you, and all shall be well I hope.  Hostess, 
Sir, I'll pledge, and now I hope you understand the difference betwixt a Whore and a kind Woman.  Tiberius, 
Well well, Landlady, we are satisfied, and too morrow morning before we go, you shall be satisfied too.  Hostess, 
I question it not, gentlemans, good night Sir; Mr. Tiberius, if you please, you shall lie in another chamber, and this Gentleman shall lie here.  Rowland, 
With all my heart Landlady. Sir good night to you; pray use my Landlady kindly.   

DIALOGUE FOUR A Merry discourse betwixt Harry and Doll, in Country Phrases.  Harry, 
HOnest Doll, well met in troth, whither art thou going, this morning so early?  Dol, 
Why, what is that to you, Good man Coxcomb, I hope I am not to make you acquainted with my Master and Dame's besiness; that would be a pretty Jest indeed, if I should do so; but I think the fool has more wit in truth: pray do you mind your business, and I will take care of what I have to do, and so farewell.  Harry, 
Nay stay a little sweet Dorothy, stay, do not be so angry, that's my good Girl, what hast thou pissed on a Nettle this morning, that thou art so tachy? come, come, Doll, prithee be gentle (for I vow to God) I ask thee for no harm.  Dol, 
No harm, saucebox, what is't you ask me for then?  Harry, 
Nay, sweet Dorothy be patiented, and I'll tell thee.  Dol, 
Well, come let me hear it.  Harry, 
Why, it was not to inquire after any of thy Master or Dame's business, that I stopped thee, but because I have a little business of my own to tell thee of, if thou wilt hear me with patience.  Dol, 
I wonder what I have to do with your business, I'll bear none of your business, by the Mass not I, therefore pray let me go.  Harry, 
Nay, stay a little Doll, you must hear me, I'll swear I shall cry if you are thus unkind to me, therefore prithee stay and hear me.  Dol. 
How do you say, shall you cry?  Harry, 
Yes that I shall, and die too, if you be not more kinder to me.  Dol. 
Well, come fool, rather than you shall cry, and die too, I will stay and hear what 'tis you have to say to me, if that you'll promise me not to be too long about it.  Harry, 
No indeed Doll, I will not keep thee too long, I will be as brief as may be.  Dol, 
Come then begin, why don't you begin, I say?  Harry, 
Nay, but hark ye Doll, I do not take this to be a very convenient place, being in a common Footpath, and in the open Field.  Dol. 
Why, whither now I trow?  Harry, 
Why, I'll tell thee Doll, on t'other side of yonder Field you know is a little River, and by the River side is a most pleasant Grove, where we may fit and talk of our business, and no body never see us, nor disturb us.  Dol, 
You tell me of business and business, but I know not what your business is.  Harry, 
Come along dear Dolly, come along, and I will tell thee presently, to thy satisfaction and content.  Dol, 
Well, I could find in my heart to go along with you, but it must be upon these conditions.  Harry, 
What conditions, what dost thou mean sweetheart?  Dol, 
hay day, pray how came I to be your sweetheart? to my best knowledge I never saw you but once before, and then I am sure you never talked of Love to me.  Harry, 
'tis no matter for that dear Dolly, the more's to come; but prithee, first let me hear what the conditions must be that I am to subscribe to, for indeed Doll, I begin to be a little in haste.  Dol, 
Pray stay, I am not so hasty, however 〈…〉 you my Conditions.  Harry, 
Pray, sweet Dolly, let me hear 'em then quickly.  Dol, 
Yes, you shall; and these they are.  
First, you shall swear, that you won't tell my Master nor Dame, nor none of my fellow Servants, nor any body else that knows me.  Harry, 
What, must I not tell them Doll?  Dol, 
Why, I say you shall not tell any of them that I go to talk with you privately; and then secondly;  Harry, 
Oh dear, secondly, why what's next Doll; the first I'll swear too willingly, but is there any more?  Dol, 
Yes, Yes; secondly I say, you shall not offer any rudeness to me, when we are alone, you shall not—  Harry, 
What, dost thou mean Doll? thou knowst I am not rude but gentle; but prithee what dost thou call rudeness?  Dol, 
Nay, if you interrupt me thus, we shall never have done, I say,—  Harry, 
What, what, dear Dolly, what dost thou say, speak out Wench?  Dol, 
But you will not give me leave to speak, I think; why, I say, you shall not offer any uncivility to me.  Harry, 
what's that Dolly, that's a hard word, I'll protest it is a very hard word.  Dol, 
That is to say, you shall not offer to do any thing to me but kiss me when we come there, and that not above twice or thrice.  Harry, 
Oh law Doll, thou talk'st strangely, why what wouldst thou have me do more, I intent to do nothing else, only to kiss and talk of business.  Dol. 
Come, come, for all you pretend so much ignorance, I dare not trust you, unless you swear.  Harry, 
What wouldst thou have me swear to Dolly?  Dol. 
Why, If I must tell you plainly, I must; You shall swear that you will not put your hands under my Coats.  Harry, 
Why, what should I put them there for Doll, hay?  Dol. 
Nay, 'tis no matter for that; will you swear, will you swear Harry?  Harry, 
Yes, I can swear Doll.  Dol. 
Ay, ay, I don't question that, but will you?  Harry, 
Yes, I will swear Doll, but what must the Oath be?  Dol. 
Why, the Oath shall be this, you shall swear by your—  Harry, 
By my what Doll?  Dol. 
Why, you shall swear, by your honesty, and by your Maidenhead, that you will not abuse me.  Harry, 
How can I abuse one that I love so well: No, no, that cannot be.  Dol. 
Well, but however you shall swear as I have told you.  Harry, 
Yes, yes, I will swear boldly Dolly, by my everlasting honesty; but what's the t'other word that I must swear by Doll?  Dol. 
Why, by your Maidenhead, I told you.  Harry, 
Prithee what's that Doll?  Dol. 
Nay, if you know not, I shall not tell you.  Harry, 
Why, then I'll swear on at a venture?  Dol. 
Do so then if you will.  Harry, 
Why, then by my pure honesty, and by my Maidenhead, which I know not of, I will not Misuse thee.  Dol. 
Well, come then, I don't much care if I go along with you.  Harry, 
Come on sweet Dolly, prithee give me thy fist, and we will walk lovingly together.  

Then away they did walk,  
To the fine shady Grove,  
Where no body could them espy.  
There Harry did tell her  
The pleasures of love,  
And I'll tell them to you by and by.   

Though he was a Clown,  
Yet he well understood  
That Women the love to Embrace.  
He gave Doll a green gown,  
In the midst of the Wood,  
'Twas a pretty convenient place.   

But listen a while,  
And you'll bear their discourse,  
How Harry proceeds in his wooing,  
He made Doll to smile.  
Who seeded no force,  
Though Harry begun to be doing.   Dol. 
Well, now we are come to the place, I suppose, which you told me of?  Harry, 
Yes, so we are Dolly, and now in this pretty shady place, under this tree, we will sit down and discourse about the business.  Dol. 
Yes, prithee do, let's hear this business, that has been so long a bringing out.  Harry, 
Why, then this it is Dolly, I must tell you that I love you, and not a little, but a great deal Dolly, I vow I do.  Dol. 
Well, and what then Harry?  Harry, 
Why, then let's kiss a little, nay, again and again too.  Dol. 
Nay, but hold Harry, you remember your Oath you swore, before I consented to come hicher with you; which was, that you should he civil and not kiss me above once or twice, or three times at farthest.  Harry, 
I'll swear Dolly, I had almost forgot that, but if I have exceeded a little beyond my bounds, you won't be angry I hope, will you Doll?  Dol. 
Nay, I don't know what you mean, methinks you tempt me strangely.  Harry, 
I'll warrant Girl I'll do thee no harm, don't fear it; come, t'other kiss and then—  Dol. 
And what then Harry? Well but you said you loved me, but how much, or how little, or for what, I cannot yet till.  Harry, 
Oh, oh, I'll tell thee that presently.  Dol. 
Nay, but I must know just now?  Harry, 
Why, I love thee abundantly Dolly, even so much that I could find in my heart to—  Dol. 
To do what Harry?  Harry, 
Why, to kiss thee again, and to hug thee lovingly.  Dol. 
Is that all? but done't you intent to marry me too Harry.  Harry, 
Marry thee▪ Yes, yes child, I'll marry thee by and by, even just now.  Dol. 
Yes, I do so, therefore let me have no excuses, but make me your wife forthwith.  Harry, 
Then it seems you are in as much haste now as I was before? Well, satisfy thyself Doll, for I will make thee my wife, and will prove an honest careful husband to thee, what canst thou desire more?  Dol. 
Nay, if you prove as good as your word, I shall not need to desire any more; but when will you appoint the time, that I may make some small preparation?  Harry, 
I leave that to thee Doll: but be private in it and conceal what is past, for people you know will make the worst of any thing they hear.  Dol. 
As for my secrecy, you need not doubt it, for the making of this our meeting known, would reflect upon me as much as an yourself, and rather more.  Harry. 
Thou sayest true Dol; therefore prithee let's make an end at present, and do thou name the day when we shall meet again, and I will Marry thee without delay, hoping that thou wilt prove an honest, kind, and virtuous Wise to me.  Dol. 
I will so, and for ever be obedient to thy Commands; and since you leave it to me to appoint the time, I think just this day week, at the same hour we met too day, will be a very good time if you think it so.  Harry, 
I do agree to it, and I will be sure to meet thee that morning in this same place where now we are, and from hence we will go to the Church and be married privately, and then return to our services again, where we will stay till our years are up, and then I ear not if all the world do know that we are Man and Wife.  Dol. 
A match my dearest Love, this kiss shall part our bodies for this time; yet surely know, that though I am gone, thou bearest away my heart; my body to my heart shall shortly go.  Harry. 
Sweet Dolly far thee well till next we meet,  
Ten thousand kisses, kisses that are sweet  
I'll give thee here at parting; do but guests  
The number till I make them numberless.  
Rejoice my Dolly, for our Wedding day  
Will quickly come, Love's time makes no delay.  
Prepare thyself, and every thing provide  
Against that day to meet me, not with pride,  
But blessed humility, and loving Charms,  
Such as become a faithful Bridegrooms Arms:  
Fear nothing Dolly, for I will requite  
All these past favours on our Wedding night.   

DIALOGUE V A merry Discourse betwixt two Poets, meeting with one another accidentally in the Street.  Will. 
BRother Tom, well met; how goes the affairs of the world now a-days?  Tom. 
In troth Will very dull, mighty dull; I'll swear, methinks, all the world is dull but we; and Faith we shall be dull too, except we can get more money; I speak for my own part, I know not how your Pockets stand affected, I am sure mine find a mighty Vacuum of late.  Will. 
Prithee now don't say so, I know you cannot want money except you are covetous, and so want by consequence, according to that old Adage, which tells us, that semper avarus eget.  Tom. 
Prithee Will don't speak Latin, for I cannot understand a word so long as Aegrotat Crumena; besides, I have drank never a drop of Sack, nor no other Wine; therefore how canst thou expect that I can speak or understand a word of Latin.  Will. 
Come, come, Brother Tom, we live by our Wits, we must not want money, for my part I have money enough; Come, come along with me, I'll revive thy spirits with some of the Heliconian Liquor, and you know Faecundi Calices Tom will inspire our Brains, and make our Muses sing such delightful strains, that shall charm the Usurer's Gold to fly into our Pockets, and ne'er repine for being bountiful.  Tom. 
On my word Will. you are very bri●k, but what Tavern shall we go to; methinks I cannot turn my head on neither side, but my Nose smells Sack ever since you talked of going to the Tavern, for I'll swear I have a very empty Cavern; therefore prithee Will. name the place quickly, and we will discourse of all ●hings there as we shall think fit.  Will. 
Prithee Tom go whither thou wilt, for my part it is all one to me; but I think we had as good go to the Devil, because we are just by it.  Tom. 
No Will, I don't care for going to the Devil now, for there I shall meet with a small ; it is no great matter, I own five or six Pounds, or thereabouts.  Will. 
Well then avoid Satan, we'll come not near thee; but name some other place Tom.  Tom. 
Why, there is a glass of as good Wine at the Rose, and there whatsoever we say shall be under the Rose; and that's as nigh as the other: besides the head Drawer is my very good friend, he never lets me pay a Farthing for Tobacco.  Will. 
Prithee don't talk of such pitiful things as paying for Tobacco; if he will draw us a Bottle of good Wine, that shall be all we expect from him. Tom, we must keep such fellows as Drawers are at a distance, lest they grow saucy.  Tom. 
But I am forced to make them my Familiars, sometimes against my will, but it's no matter for that, come let's go.  Will. 
Come along Tom, I'll lead the way.  
A Drawer comes to them at the Rose.  Drawer. 
You are welcome Gentlemen, will you be pleased to walk up stairs.  Tom. 
Yes, honest Drawer, we will follow you up stairs as fast as we can.  Drawer. 
What Wine will you be pleased to drink Gentlemen?  Will. 
Hark you, be you the Head- Drawer?  Drawer. 
Yes, Sir.  Tom. 
Yes, yes, this honest Drawer knows me well enough.  Will. 
Well honest Drawer, since he calls thee so, prithee bring us up a Bottle of the best Canary in the Cellar; be sure let it be good, and thou shalt lose nothing for thy civility.  Drawer. 
Your Servant. Sir, I'll warrant you rare good, Sir.  Tom. 
Do you hear, bring up some Tubacco with you also, such as I used to smoke when I come here.  Drawer. 
You shall have it, Sir.  Tom. 
We shall want a third man to help hold a discourse, shall we not? What do you think of a third man, Will. I know where to send for one?  Will. 
A Por of a third man; tell me of no third man: I'll warrant thee, that we'll find Discourse enough betwixt ourselves.  Drawer. 
Here's a Glass of rich Canary, Sir.  Tom. 
Give it me: Will. give me thy hand: Come, a good Health to the Muses our Sisters, our old Sire Apollo.  Will. 
Well bowled Boy. Come, give me a Rummer, I'll pledge thee.  Drawer. 
Does the Wine please you, Gentlemen?  Tom. 
Thou art an honest Lad, 'tis very good Wine, and I'll remember thy Box for it.  Drawer. 
Your Servant, Sir.  Exit Drawer. Will. 
Come Tom, fill the other Glass and drink to me, I'll warrant thee this will put thee out of thy dull humour: Come be merry old Soul, Let's quaff whilst we may: None knows who shall live to be merry next day.  Tom. 
Nay, if thou beginnest to be inspired already, what shall we be before we go: Come Will. God bless the King.  Will. 
Prithee Tom drink off thy Glass: What thou dost not begin to start already? Come suck him off, and I'll pledge thee a brimmer.  Tom. 
So now I hope I have pleased you, Will.  Will. 
Yes, so thou hast Tom. and I'll do the like, I'll warrant Boy.  Tom. 
I think we had best to call for the other Bottle before we begin to smoke.  Will. 
Do so Tom, do you call, because you know the Drawer.  Tom. 
Well, I'll knock. Here Drawer, B●y.  Drawer. 
By and by, I am coming Sir.  Tom. 
Prithee draw us a Bottle of the same Wine.  Drawer. 
You shall have it Sir.  Will. 
Come Tom, now let's smoke it awhile.  Tom. 
Agreed: But stay, let's do nothing rashly, let's rake each of us another Glass first. Is this the same Wine, Drawer?  Drawer. 
The very same Sir.  Exit Drawer. Tom. 
Come Will, here's my Mistress' health.  Will. 
Drink it off Tom, and pledge mine, and then—  Tom. 
Ay, and then, as thou sayest Will. we shall be fit for discourse.  Will. 
So, now let it rest awhile, and prithee tell me how thou hast spent thy time of late: Upon what new Subject hast thou exercised thy fancy of late.  Tom. 
Why, I'll tell thee Will, but t'other day there comes to my Lodging a brisk and lively Blade, a good Sack-drinker, but a younger Brother, and he like other men now adays (I won't say thee, and I William. because he was no Poet) had more Wit than Money. This Young Gentleman had found out a Female Creature that had more Money than Wit, whom he thought were a very fit Match for him: He told me, that he had often made his Addresses to her, she not giving him a flat denial, he was persuaded, that his own Wit, with the assistance of a smooth Poem in praise of her Perfections (or Imperfections, all's one in that Greek you know Will.) might win her, and work upon her foolish good Nature, so far as to accept his suit.  Will. 
And how then Tom?  Tom. 
Nay, I must drink the other Glass before I can proceed any further with my Story.  Will. 
Well, drink and be hanged, you love this Sack, I perceive.  Tom. 
Faith Will. 'twas well said: Let me drink before I am hanged, for I love Sack better than hanging by far.  Will. 
Well, but go on with the Story.  Tom. 
Then I told him Will, that I could fit him to a hair with a Copy of Verses, but I exprcted to have something in hand, and a promise what I should have after I had done. The young Fop heightred with the thoughts of good success, gave me a Guinny in hand, being all the Money he had, I suppose; and a promise of four more if he married the young Gentlewoman: which I gladly took, and could not in Conscience but give him a glass of Wine out of it.  Will. 
Well, and you did give him Sack out of his Guinny, did you not Tom?  Tom. 
Why yes, I tell thee, I did make him drink for his Money; we had two Bottles of Clarer, and that looked more gentile than one Bottle of Sack, though I must confess, that I love Sack far better than French-Wine, Will, and so here's to thee.  Will. 
Nay I believe that you love Sack well enough, without swearing to't; for you signify as much by your present drinking. Well, now you have took off your Glass, I hope you will proceed with your Narration concerning the Poems you were to make.  Tom. 
Yes, I will so; but had not we best to drink another Glass apiece first: I vow this is excellent good Sack, Will.  Will. 
Yes, yes, the Sack's good enough; but prithee be not so greedy of it Tom, but go on with thy Story.  Tom. 
Well here's one Glass to thee Will, and then—  Will. 
And then I think thou'lt be drunk, Tom, come prithee make haste then, for I am impatient of thy tediousness.  Tom, 
Well, if thou wilt not pledge me Will, I'll set it by a while, and proceed with my young Gamester, which was after this manner. I bade him come again that day week he gave me the Guinny, and he should have the Poems.  Will. 
Why, thou wast not a week sure in composing a Copy of Verses in praise of a Lady's Beauty?  Tom. 
No indeed, I was not Will; I wonder how thou hapenest to ask such an impertinent Question?  Will. 
How do you make it an impertinent Question? did you not say, that you bid the Gentleman come that day week, and he should have his Poem?  Tom. 
Yes, I did say so, and do say so still, and say the truth too, Mr. Will, and yet that is no good ground for you to say that I was a week in making them; I'll swear if you were not my Brother Poet, I would call thee Fool. Why, dost thou not know that I had a Guinny?  Will. 
Yes, I do remember you told me so, but what then?  Tom. 
What then, why art thou ignorant still? Dost thou think that the Guinny would not require some time in spending?  Will. 
'Tis right Tom, I blame my present dulness of apprehension in not understanding thee at first; I must confess that I might have imagined that thou couldst not rest, or settled thyself to any thing till the Guinny was consumed and melted away.  Tom. 
Yes, as thou sayest Will, I did melt it in a shore time, but not all at one time; for I would study and compose three or four Lines, then to the Tavern for half a pint of the best Canary, and having drunk up that, I could make a shift to go home and compose two Verses and a half more, and then to the Tavern again. But now I think on't, this Wine that stands by me, will be flat if it stands any longer, therefore Will, here's to thee.  Will. 
What again? why sure enough I shall be troubled to get thee home by and by.  Tom. 
Yes, it may be so. Here Drawer, Boy.  Drawer. 
By and by, Sir, I am coming. Did you call here, Sir?  Tom. 
Yes; Prithee bring us a Bottle of the same Wine, and bring a Chamber-pot with thee.  Drawer. 
You shall have it, Sir.  Tom. 
We shall have the other Bottle, shall we not Will?  Will. 
Yes, it seems we must have it; now you have called for't.  Drawer. 
There are Musicians below, Gentle men, who desire to know whether you will permit them to play to you or no?  Will. 
Hang 'em Rogues, we have rothing to do with Fiddlers, our Sack will make us more merry than their scraping.  Tom. 
Thou sayest right Will, and now I love thee, and here's ●o thou.  Will. 
Come drink Tom, and let me hear what Verses thou madest the young man for his Guinny, I know thou hast a foul Copy of them about thee still, hast not, Tom.?  Tom. 
Why, what if I have or have not, must I needs tell you Will; or is there any necessity that I should show them to you, if I have 'em about me?  Will. 
No, no, Tom, I do not Command you to show me, but I desire that kindness of you; therefore don't be angry.  Tom. 
No, no, Will, angry, I scorn to be angry; Come here's to thee.  Will. 
Well, but will you show me the Poem that you made for the Gentleman.  Tom. 
No, in troth won't I, but I'll read it to you, if that will satisfy you, if not, you must defist to ask me further, for I will not part from them out of my own hands to ne'er a man in England; yet I must confess, that I love you well Will, but you must pardon me for that.  Will. 
Why are they such excellent ones that you are afraid that I should take them away, and so make use of them, some other time upon the same occasion?  Tom. 
'Tis no matter for that, if you will hear them you shall Will.  Will. 
Well, prithee, let's hear 'em then.  Tom. 
Why, you shall; but here's to you first, I begin to be dry.  Will. 
Well, prithee drink, and read 'em if thou wilt, or say thou wilt not.  Tom. 
Yes, I will, and these they are, pray give attention:  

Madam, your Beauty, hang me, like an Elf,  
I need not praise, for that will praise itself:  
I cannot flatter you, yet must confess,  
That I could love you well, if you had less.  
For what I love you for, I know you guests.   Will. 
How's that? How's that?  Tom. 
Nay, if you interrupt me, I ha' done.  Will. 
Proceed.  Tom. 
I love you, Madam, more than Pig or Pie,  
And if you love me not, I'll sit and cry,  
And curse my cruel fate and destiny,  
until I waste, and pine away, and die;  
And if my Mother ask the reason why,  
Then Madam, you must bear the shame, not I,  
Because you work my woe by cruelty;  
But if you are kind and grant my suit, I'll fly  
Into your arms with joy, and there I'll lie,  
And kiss and hug to perpetuity,  
And nothing want that's underneath the Sky;  
Then be not coy, nor softly say, fie, fie;  
If that I lie, as close as Pig in Sty.  Will. 
Oh, wonderful, wonderful Wit! I never heard the like in all my life; so many Rhimes of one sort I never heard in my life time.  Tom. 
That's the rarity of it, Will.  Will. 
Yes, so I perceive Tom. What did you conclude you Elegant Poem after this manner?  Tom. 
No, there is two Lines more, and that is all; which are these:  

Thus Mistress, hoping you'll not count me rude,  
Until anon I see you, I conclude.   Will. 
Oh, admirable Tom! I could not have thought that any man alive had had so much wit in him; Well, go thy way for a Composer of Poems: so excellent a Fancy, I never heard before.  Tom. 
No nor no body else, except it came from those that are good Sack Drinkers like myself: Come here's to thee Will, let's drink a little touch now.  Will. 
I'll pledge thee Tom, a brimmer: Drawer, bring the t'other Bottle, and tell us what's to pay?  Drawer. 
You shall have it, Sir.  Tom. 
Come Will, prithee tell me what new thing thou hast made of late, speak Will, and briskly, to be dull I hate.  Will. 
This Sack has witty Charms I do perceive,  
It fools inspires, I aptly do believe.  Tom. 
Then give us Sack, give us Sack,  
'Tis pity, we should ever lack.  Will. 
Drink stoutly Tom, thou shalt not want,  
I find it helps the ignorant.  Tom. 
Come, Drawer, quick, and bring some smoke;  
To drink more Wine it will provoke.  Will. 
I value not the Indian Funk,  
It rather causes to be drunk.  Tom. 
Fie Will, none can be drunk but Sots,  
That in an Alehouse tope black Pots:  
Wine only does transform our Souls;  
A Blockhead's witty with full Bowls.  Will. 
I'm apt to think, thou tell'st me true,  
Then prithee Tom, take thou thy due:  
Thy Guinny Poem wanted Wine,  
Thy muddy Brains for to refine:  
Let's cease to Rhyme ex tempore,  
We'll drink and laugh and merry be.  Tom. 
Thou sayest true Will, we had better leave off Rhyming in vain, for why should we waste our stock of Wit upon each other when we have no occasion for it; we have enough to study our Brains when we have a Gninny Subject to work upon. In troth Will, I begin to be troubled with a short Cough, I don't know what they call it; Prithee give me another Class of Sack, and try what that will do with me.  Will. 
Ay, ay, the tother Glafs, prithee drink it off, and begin an other to me, that we may make an end, for it gins to be late.  Tom. 
Thou sayest true Will, and here's to thee.  Will. 
So now, we'll call for a Reckoning. Here Drawer, What's to pay?  Drawer. 
Eight shillings Wine, and six pence Tobacco.  Will. 
Here's nine shillings, take thou the remainder.  Drawer. 
Your Servant, Sir, you are welcome Gentlemen.  Tom. 
Well far thee well Will, the next Treat shall be mine.  Will. 
Adien honest Tom, let me see thee sometimes. Farewell.   

DIALOGUE VI A merry Dialogue of Love betwixt an Old Rich Guff and a handsome br●●k Damsel.  Old Man. 
MY Cocky, My pretty Nancy Cock, how dost thou my Sweeting? in troth's Law; I am glad to see thee with all my heart. Come, how hast thou done this great while? what, art thou married yet my Girl? hast got thee a good Husband yet?  Maid. 
Your Servant Sir, I hope your Worship's in good health.  Old Man. 
Yes, in good truth Girl, I thank my God, I am in good health, and am as lively and lusty, as e'er I was in all my life: But prithee tell me Nancy, art a Wife or a Maid? Tell me truly, don't blush.  Maid. 
I am a Maid, an't please you, Sir.  Old Man. 
In goed time, my Sweeting: But I wonder thou hast not got thee a Husband all this while.  Maid. 
I hope he is got already, Sir.  Old Man. 
Well, well, pretty one, you know my meaning: I tell thee; I wonder such a pretty sweet-faced Rogue has not a Husband yet.  Maid. 
Because I can get no Body to have me, Sir; however I think it is time enough yet, for I am young in years, and may be brought too soon to know the sorrows of a wedded life.  Old Man. 
Be not mistaken Sweetest; there are no pleasures in the world like to those which married people receive when they are joined together by free consent, and where there is no want of an Estate to keep Love warm; for I must confess that Poverty often makes Love grow cold, and want of Necessaries makes Quarrels arise; But where there is a sufficiency and plenty of all things, together with a loving and kind Husband, I think that woman is in a happy condition: What thinkest thou of this my Nancy, come answer me now Girl?  Maid. 
Why truly Sir, such Husbands are hard to be found; but if I knew where to have such a man, I should be willing enough to alter my condition; for I must confess that I have had a longing mind this half year to be a married wife; for something, but I know not yet for what, I had so strong a desire.  Old Man. 
Alas, poor Rogue! pretty innocent Girl, The truth on't is, I do believe that thou art a pure Virgin, and by'r Lady, my Cocky, I will give thee one Salute.  Maid. 
How Sir?  Old Man. 
Nay, my Cocky, be not ashamed; Nay, prithee don't blush.  Maid. 
Pray Sir, what do you mean? I hope you will not degrade yourself so much as to kiss such a one as I: Pray Sir, forbear.  Old Man. 
I feck Huffy, thou art a sweet-liped Rogue, and let me tell thee, that I must do more than kiss thee.  Maid. 
I hope you are not in earnest; you will not as me any harm, will you Sir?  Old Man. 
Hurt thee? No my Chuck, I do not intent to hurt thee; I love that sweet face of thine too well to hurt it.  Maid. 
Nay then I care not Sir what you do to me, so you don't hurt me; pray tell me then what you mean to do?  Old Man. 
Why, I intent to love thee.  Maid. 
To love me! and what then Sir?  Old Man 
To kiss thee, and hag thee, and to lie with thee all night.  Maid, 
Marry God forbidden that I should lie with a man; in deed Sir, I dare not do such a thing for all the World; for my Mother has often told me, that I must not lie with a man, except I had a Husband.  Old Man. 
Ha', ha', ha', my pretty thing, no more; thou shalt not he with any man but thy Husband.  Maid. 
Why Sir, you are not my Husband, and yet you talk of lying with me.  Old Man. 
Well said, sweet Face: But what dost think of being my wife? couldst thou find in thy heart to love me, and prove a virtuous, true, and kind wife to me all days of thy life: Now Cocky speak, for in troth Law, I am in earnest, and do love thee above all other Maids in the whole world.  Maid. 
Do you so Sir: But you are old, are you not Sir, pray tell me?  Old Man. 
Why, what if I am, Child.  Maid. 
Why then you'll die before me, Sir, and I shall love you so well when I am married to you, that it will break my heart, if you should die before me.  Old Man. 
Pretty heart, sayest thou so: Is that all thou dost object against me?  Maid. 
Is not that enough Sir, what would you have me say more?  Old Man. 
I must confess, dear Heart, that I am older than thee; but you must know, Cocky, that we all must die, both old and young, but we cannot tell who shall die first; therefore be not discomforted upon that account, for thou may'st die as soon as Is if not before me.  Maid. 
Would you not cry then Sir, if I should die be fore you?  Old Man. 
Yes, Pretty Rogue, I should be sorry for thy death, but those things must be left to the disposal of kind Heaven, which order all things of that Nature in its own due time and season.  Maid. 
Say you so Sir, but you are older than I, and I very much fear—  Old Man. 
What dost thou fear, pretty One? Speak holdly, do not fear to tell me.  Maid. 
Why Sir, can't you guests.  Old Man. 
Why Yes, fair One, perhaps I may.  Maid. 
Pray tell me, what you think then?  Old Man. 
Well, I believe, thou thinkest that because I am in years, I may not be capable of those Duties which belong to a new Marriagebed.  Maid. 
Why what are those, Sir?  Old Man. 
Pretty Innocent: well, thou shalt know when we are married, and till than thou must rest contented.  Maid. 
Well Sir, I shall be contented: But pray till me, if we must marry, how I shall be maintained, for my Mother will not look after me then.  Old Man. 
Preity Fool, take no care for that: I have got more Gold and Silver than thee and I shall ever spend whilst we live, and when we die shall leave enough for our Children after us.  Maid. 
What must we have Children too?  Old Man. 
Two? Yes, three or four, I'll warrant thee: although I am old in thy eyes, yet I am as youthful and vigorous in those concerns, as a young Man at one and twenty; the enjoyment of thee will make me forget my Age, and become a Boy again.  Maid. 
Nay then, I care not Sir, for I shall love to see you look young.  Old Man. 
Come and kiss me then, my Nancy.  Maid. 
With all my heart Sir. And now I'll sing you one Verse of a Song.  Old Man. 
Come let's hear it, Girl.  Song. 

When a young womdn to an old Dotard is wed,  
Let her honestly live if she can,  
'Tis a thousand to one but with Horns he'll be sped,  
jy some pretty wanton young man.  
Then his wife with disgrace he ever will shame;  
But the wisest young Gallants will fiee her from blame.   Maid. 
Pray how like you this?  Old Man. 
Very well, very well, Nanny; Prithee, who taught thee this Song.  Maid. 
My Mother Sir, and she said it was a very true one.  Old Man. 
No, no, fair One, it is not true; there is no honest woman will wrong her husband's bed, though she have never so great temptations.  Maid. 
I hope you will not be jealous Sir, I'll promise you I will live as honestly as ever I can; what would you have me do more?  Old Man. 
No, no, thou sayest Well, Girl, I will not be jealous, and I fancy that I shall please thee so well, that thou wilt have no cause to make me a Cuckold; and we will live together as merry as Cup and Can.  Maid. 
Well, what would you have me say more, Sir, pray speak, and tell me quickly, for I am weary of this Discourse, I had rather be in action.  Old Man. 
I commend thee, my Lore, and so had I too; Well, tell me, then wilt thou have me to be thy Husband?  Maid. 
Yes, if you please, Sir.  Old Man. 
Enough, now I have my desire, and thou shalt have thine, I'll warrant thee; now I will go and make preparation against too morrow, which shall be our Wedding-day; and with this kiss, at present I take leave.  
All things prepared, they married were in haste,  
The Old Man fails, and Cuckold is at last.   

DIALOGUE VII. A Merry Dialogue betwixt a young Gentleman and an old Widow.  Gent. 
MAdam, the various Reports that go abroad in the World concerning Matrimony, make me ambitious to try an Experiment upon the same, and having heard so great a Fame of your Ladyships good life and conversation, have presumed now to tell you, that I am Madam, Your humble Servant.  Wid. 
Sir, I can do less than give you thanks for your Civility towards me, but I wonder that you should attaque me with the matter of love. I suppose you understand my present state and condition, how that of late I have buried a good Husband; how therefore can you think that I will admit so soon of a second address: In the first place, you must either think that I had but small kindness for my former Husband, or etherwise you must imagine that I am a fond old doting Fool, apt to be carried away with every wind of Doctrine that is preached to me by every simple Idiot, that has only a prospect into my Estate or Fortune, but has no regard to my person. Come, young Gentleman, these things won't take.  Gent. 
Madam, I hope I have given you no offence; if I have, I most humbly beg your pardon.  Widd. 
I am no Pope Sir.  Gent. 
But Madam you must give me leave to tell you then, that if Love can be called an offence, I must confess that I have offended; for now and evermore I must tell you that I love you, and none but you in the whole world; therefore dear Madam, look not scornfully upon me, but grant me my humble request; which is to give me love for love.  Widd. 
Why sure young man you are not in earnest.  Gent. 
Yes Madam indeed I am, and so you shall find me.  Widd. 
Why what would you have me to do, would you have me match myself to a young Boy?  Gent. 
Madam you'll find a lusty Boy of me, methinks I begin to write myself man— being now about twenty; I'll warrant you Madam a good Bedfellow.  Widd. 
How shall I know that?  Gent. 
Try Widow, try, there's nothing like it; faith ne'er fear it, I have that you want, come let's grow familiar now.  Widd. 
Are you in earnest Sir?  Gent. 
Yes by this kiss I am.  Widd. 
Nay hold you are rude, fie for shame; what again?  Gent. 
Again, yes and again and again too.  Widd. 
Why sure you won't, young man, you'll be tired anon?  Gent. 
No, no, Widow, I shall never be weary of well-doing.  Widd. 
Do you call this doing well?  Gent. 
Truly I must confess there is not much action in this; for it is only an invitation to a farther bliss or happiness, which the Wits of our Age call enjoyment. Ah Widow Enjoyment, Enjoyment; that's all.  Widd. 
Prithee what dost thou mean by Enjoyment, I don't understand ye?  Gent. 
Well well, Widow, I shall speak in plain English, when you and I are in bed together; however I am fully persuaded that you know my meaning by Enjoyment, though you have had but little; for I am sensible that your Husband was a silly feeble Sot, and scarce ever showed you what Enjoyment was; but I Widow, I'll clear the case, and show you what it is immediately, if you please.  Widd. 
Why you will not surely, will you? methinks you are a little too hasty for me; and yet—  Gent. 
And yet I know that cannot well be; for having once but smelled of the Spit, you will love a good not flatter you, but proceed according to the old Song, which is this:  

Song.  
He that will win a Widows heart,  
Must bear up briskly to her:  
She loves the lad that's free and smart,  
And hates the formal wooer.  
She loves the lad that's free and smart,  
And bats, etc.   
What think you of this Widow?  Widd. 
Well, well, young man, you may go on, and see what you'll get by't.  Gent. 
Go on, yes so, I intent, and get you by●.  Widd. 
What do you mean by getting me?  Gent. 
Why I mean by the way of Love to make you my Wife Widow; what do you think of that Lady?  Widd. 
Why sure you don't think so; are you and I an equal match?  Gent. 
Match; ha', ha', ha', yes Widow I'll match ye I'll warrant ye; come give's your hand, is't a bargain or no?  Widd. 
What you are in haste then?  Gent. 
Yes, yes, in great haste Widow.  Widd. 
Very well; but do you conceive that my age and yours agree.  Gent. 
Yes, yes, we and our ages too will agree well enough; suppose I am twenty and you are forty, what a business is that? Let me tell you Widow, that if you join with me, our Ages shall be both equal.  Widd. 
How can you make out that Sir?  Gent. 
Why thus Widow, by way of infusion; for let me tell you that I shall infuse so much young blood into you, that in one week's time you will become twenty years younger: Do you hear me now Widow, what think you of this?  Widd. 
Go, go, you are a Wag.  Gent. 
Yes, yes, so I am, and I'll tumble thee about as long as thou art able to wag.  Widd. 
You won't hurt me, will you?  Gent. 
No, no, you don't fear that Widow.  Widd. 
Not much I must confess.  Gent. 
Well then speak freely, wilt thou be my spouse or no?  Widd. 
I could find in my heart Sir, but it must be upon certain conditions.  Gent. 
Well, well name your conditions; they are good ones I'll warrant ye.  Widd. 
Why these they are: In the first place, whereas I am possessed with an Estate valued at Three hundred pounds per annum, you shall not have any thing to do with that Estate, not so much as with the yearly Rent; but it shall be all at my disposing.  Gent. 
Very 〈◊〉 have you any more conditions pray like the first?  Widd. 
Yes I have one more, and this it is: You shall not take into your possession any money of mine, either Gold or Silver; nor make any enquiry how rich I am; but be satisfied and contented with what you have already.  Gent. 
So, what's this all?  Widd. 
Yes Sir, upon these Terms I do agree and am contented to become your Wife.  Gent. 
Are you so? Thank you for nothing: Far you well, far you well Widow.  Widd. 
Why are you gone Sir?  Gent. 
Yes I am going forsooth.  Widd. 
Hark you Sir, stay a little, nay pray stay; come I'll moderate the business, I know your Disease.  Gent. 
Well be quick then.  Widd. 
Will all my ready money satisfy you?  Gent. 
No, no, Widow, if you'll be my Wife, you must give up Life, Body, Soul, Estate, and all you have into my possession.  Widd. 
Well come then if it must be so, it must, I cannot deny you any thing; for I think long to be made young again.  Gent. 
A Match Widow, now the bargain's ended; come we'll away to the Church, and be married immediately.  
He that a Widow woes must never flatter,  
But with a sprightly carriage make up at her.    

A brief Description Of TRUE LOVE.  

TRue Love is a precious Treasure,  
A rich Delight, unvalued pleasure.  
men's hearts like a Maze intwining,  
Two firm minds in one combining:  
Foe to faithless Vows perfidious,  
True Love is a Knot religious.  
Dead to the Sins that flaming rise,  
Through Beauty's soul-seducing eyes.  
Deaf to Gold-inchanting Witches,  
Loves for Virtue, not for Riches.  
Such is True Loves boundless measure,  
True Love is a precious Treasure.  
This is Love, and worth commending;  
Still beginning, never ending.  
Like a wily Net ensnaring,  
Like a Round shuts up all squaring:  
In and out whose every angle,  
More and more doth still entangle:  
Keeps a measure still in moving,  
And is never light but loving.  
Twining Arms, exchanging Kisses,  
Each partaking others Blisses.  
Laughing, weeping, still together,  
Bliss in one, is mirth in either.  
Never breaking, ever bending:  
This is Love, and worth commending.   

In Praise and Dispraise of LOVE.  

NOw what is Love I will thee tell,  
It is the Fountain and the Well,  
Where Pleasure and Repentance dwell.  
And it is like a Passing-Bell,  
That toll all into Heaven or Hell.  
Now what is Love I will thee show,  
A thing that creeps where it cannot go:  
A Prize that passeth to and fro.  
A thing for me, a thing for more;  
And he that tries shall find it so.     

EXAMPLES OF LETTERS AND COMPLIMENTS. OF All sorts, both Jocose and Serious, fitted for business as well as Recreation and Delight.  

A Father's Letter to his Son at School in the Country.  
Dear Child.  
AS it is my Fatherly care to provide for your future good, in bringing you up to learning: as well as my present endeavours to see that you want nothing in the time of your Minority; so I expect that you by being dutiful and diligent should make me amends for all my costs and charges. Be sure you mind your Book, and consider, that you alone will receive the benefit: let not too much play steal away your mind from Learning, for you can never receive any good thereby, but harm does often happen by over-heating yourself, which will dull your memory, and make you incapable of attaining what your Master shall set before you; so that you will cheat both yourself and me; yourself of time and knowledge, and me of my Money and expectation. When you have a little leisure from your Latin, I would have you practise Writing, which will be a recreation to you; for to be always upon one exercise doth dull the senses of any one whether Young or Old, and it would be a comfort to me to have a Letter from you now and then to hear of your welfare: be careful how you spend your time, and you shall want for nothing that I can help you to, that may encourage you to be a good boy, and the way to be so, is to live in the fear of God, and to keep his Commandments, then will his Blessings for ever attend you, and you will be a joy and comfort to me and your tender Mother in our old Age: Both our Loves remembered to you and your Mistress, I am  
Your loving Father, A. B.   

The Son's Answer.  
Honoured Father,  
AFter my humble Duty presented to you and my Mother, these may let you understand, that through the blessing of God I am in good health, and will to my lives and be dutiful and obedient, to you and my good Mother; taking your advice and counsel in every thing, knowing that you wish me well both for my present and future happiness: my Master is very kind to me, and careful of my welfare in every respect; pray be pleased to accept of my ill writing at present, and I doubt not but in a short time, I shall mend my hand and write better, though as yet I have had but little time allowed me, to learn to write. My kind Love and service to all my Relations and Friends is all at present that I have to trouble you with who am,  
Your dutiful and most obedient Son till death C. B.   

A Citizen returning his Friend kind thanks for his entertainment when he was in the Country.  
Kind Sir,  
THe great and manifold kindnesses which I have often received from you and your Wife do ever call upon me, and put me in mind of making an acknowledgement, as some part of satisfaction; but most of all those infinite savours which you were pleased to confer upon me when I was last in the Country must not, nor can never be forgot whilst I live; I know not how to make you amends to my own content, in no way but desiring your good company in London at my House, where you may be sure of a welcome from him who is Sir  
Your loving Friend and humble Servant, E. G.   

The Country Gentleman's Answer to the Citizen.  
Sir,  
IT is not my business to compliment my Friends with fair words and eloquent Speeches, but to tell them in downright and in plain Language, they are welcome; and not only to tell them so in words, but to let them find they're welcome by their entertainment; which if you found worth your acceptance I wish you had stayed longer, for I'll assure you Sir, your company was most delightful, and most pleasant to me all the while you were in the Country; Insomuch that I cannot be contented to be long without it; therefore since you would not tarry with us, I do intent to come very speedily to London, and give you a visit where I do purpose to remain till you are weary of my company and I weary of the City, but how long that may be I cannot tell: in the mean time Sir I present my Service to yourself and good Brother Thomas, wishing you all health and happiness, I remain,  
Your truly loving Friend J. S.   

A merry Letter to invite a Friend to the Tavern.  
Honest T●m,  
FAith I have designed this Afternoon to be merry in, and want nothing that can be helping to my delight but your good company: my desire is, that you would meet me at the George Tavern, in White-Fryers about two of the Clock, and I will get together two or three more of our old Companions, and there we will soak our Souls with good Sack and Claret, till our Brains are inspired with that Heavenly Liquor: then will we sing each of us a merry Catch and drink our Mistress' Health; crying God bless the King, again and again: then toss off a brimmer of Bacchus his blood, which will make us like Mars be courageous and valiant: and cause the fair Venus to fall on her back, though the black limping Cuckold old Vulcan stand by. Never think of the reckoning for I'll pay the shot, and if I have not Money the Vintner shall trust; thus expecting your coming I impatiently remain,  
Your true Friend and to●ing Comparion D. J.   

The Answer.  
Honest Soul,  
YOu are always so obliging, and your company is so delightful, that you may assure yourself I will not fail to meet so true a Friend; you know my ●●●●sition is ever inclined to Mirth and good 〈◊〉 Sack and brisk Claret will command me at 〈◊〉, to fight under their Banners so long as I can stand, but if by their charms it happens that I am overcome, one jolly sweet Song sung in a high strain, will awaken each sense and recover me to Life again; then cursing the Drawer for being so slow, instead of calling for one Bottle we will make him bring up a dozen together, till at length we are fitted for Venus indeed, then high for a Mistrest, a Girl of the Game, that by her rare Art will easily quench those flames in one half hour, which we have been kindling with the Spirits of Bacchus the space of a whole day, all which being done, we will seek our repose by sleeping a while to regain us fresh courage; and with this resolution I'll be sure to meet you, who am  
Your now too sober Friend, H. B.   

A Gentleman to a young Lady whom he courted to marry.  
Honoured Madam,  
SInce last I had the happiness to see your fair face, Cupid hath wounded my heart with those Arrows which he borrowed from your eyes, and unless you will be pleased to give relief to my miseries and pain, which I thereby do undergo both night and day, alas I shall be of all Men most miserable: my humble suit which now I beg is this, that you would be pleased to make me for ever happy by giving me admittance into your sweet Company, and meet my honest and lawful desires with smiles upon your Brow; I shall not court you our of complaisance, but tell you Madam honourably and plainly, that with your good liking I intent to make you my Wife, which if you accept of my serious proposition, I shall for ever be bles●, and you Madam I hope will never have cause to repent your choice: thus expecting your kind reply; I for this time begging your pardon, do humbly take my leave and remain, Madam  
The humblest of your Servants, W. G.   

The Lady's Answer.  
Sir,  
I Cannot but bless myself with admiration that so wise a Man as yourself, should talk so idly to say, that my Eyes have wounded your Heart: I must needs tell you I think you talk of impossibilities, and that want of rest occasions this distraction of mind; you pretend to be no complimental Courtier, yet appear to be the greatest that ever I met with by this your Letter you sent me. I must confess according to equality of Fortunes you outdo me, and I am not of Birth so highly descended, therefore you may presume, that a few words from a person of so much Worth as yourself may win so silly a Woman as I am, but flatter not yourself with that, for I'll assure you I think as well of my Virginity as the best of them all do, and shall be as loath to part with it except it be upon a good consideration; therefore if you are real as you pretend concerning Marriage, your suit may be accepted, but if otherwise, you take your aim amiss: this till I know you better I hope may suffice from her who is,  
Your Servant on honourable terms, S. B.   

A Country Farmer's Son to one of his Neighbour's Daughters.  
Dear Betty,  
I Must confess ever since you and I drank together last Warm-love Fair, I have had a great affuction for you, insomuch that I cannot rest at night for those sweet kisses we then had together, when we drank the last half pint of White-wine and Sugar: I than perceived that the company of a Womankind, was far better than a Man's; and truly now I begin to think myself Man sufficient to have a Wife, and if you think so well of me, as I do of you, we will make no long business of it, for to tell you the truth I am a little in haste, having ever since I saw you, had some strange thoughts and fancies, fits of Love I suppose they be, if not, I'll swear I cannot tell what to call them: Sometimes I dream too, and to be sure it is of you; therefore I think the best way to give me ease is to marry quickly, and after we have seen one another once more, I think it will be time for the old Folks to meet to consult about the bargain, in the mean time I swear I love you dearly, who am  
Your loving Friend R. L.   

Betty's Answer.  
Honest Ralph,  
I Must confess you were very kind to me at our last and I took it so, yet I would not have you think me fond, for a young Maid as I am may go to the Tavern with a Neighbour's Son at a public Fair, and kiss a little too, and yet not be accounted fond I hope: to tell you truly ever since that time I have found a strange alteration in my body and mind, for when I think of you (which is very often) I cannot forbear sighing, insomuch that our folks take notice of me, ask me what's the matter, but indeed they ask me more than I can answer them; only now you put me in mind on't I am verily persuaded that it is Love that people so much talk of; yes it must be Love I am sure of it: I also dream in the Night, and such strange dreams, that I hall not name till we are married, which if the old Men our Fathers do agree, shall be as soon as you please, till than I am,  
Your loving Wise in conceit, E. L.   

A Letter to court a young Widow, who had lately buried her Husband.  
Honoured Madam,  
TO say your beauty only moves me to love you, would only be to flatter you, or to say you Wisdom was a second cause, I should belie my sel● though this I needs must tell you Madam, that I know you are both fair and wise, and that beyond an ordinary comparison, both which are excellent ornaments of Nature; but I look further, Madam; into your actions and find them carried on and guided by that precious Jewel called Virtue, the beauty of the Soul, an excellency by far transcending all endowments; and for that Madam I love and honour you. 'Tis pity Madam so much youthful worth should any longer be clouded under mourning Weeds, what though your Husband was a kind and loving Man to you in his Life-time, the memory of him ought not to be a trouble to you after his Death, for he receives the comfort of all his good deeds which he did in his Life as a due recompense of a good Christian; therefore Madam your sorrows ought to cease, because he rejoices in another World; revive your Spirits Madam, and bethink yourself that we must live by the quick and not by the dead; therefore we ought to make the best use of our time, not knowing how soon we may be called aside, and it would be a great pity, that we should die and leave the World behind us without some enjoyment of those delights for which we are created to partake of. My humble suit is Madam that you would be pleased to accept my honest Love, and grant my request, which is, that you would think so well of my person as to smile upon my reasonable demands, which are that you would become my Wife, and throw aside all these melancholy thoughts of your dead Husband, and for my further satisfaction Madam, concerning your affections, I beg that you would send me my sentence either for Life or Death, in the mean time I remain,  
Your desperate Lover, T. W.   

The Widow's Answer.  
Sir,  
I Must confess you began to court and compliment me very Learnedly, and in my opinion (if I may be my own Judge) in the beginning of your Letter, you writ nothing but the truth: for my beauty cannot move any one to love me, neither will my Wit or Ingenuity be attractive to any Man that is endowed with such superexcellent Wisdom, and with so quick an apprehension as yourself: yet I have so good an opinion of myself as to think that I have beauty enough to serve any Man's turn, that is less handsome than I am, and wit enough to know when I am flattered, and how to avoid the deluding temptations of the flatterer, and that I count sufficient for any Woman of so ordinary a quality as myself; as for my Virtues I hope I have my share amongst the rest of my Sex, for which I give God the praise; neither am I proud, that you think or call me virtuous, however I have thus much knowledge as to understand that virtue is an ornament far excelling all beauty or any other natural parts which are but momentary and like a shadow which now appears, and on a sudden vanishes away. 'Tis true my former Husband which is now dead was ●an honest Man, that you, and all the World that knew him must confess, which is a rare principle amongst you Men to be so, as well as so to be accounted: but I knew more than this, he was to me both loving and kind, as well as honest, and so kind that I scarce believe that he has left his fellow behind him, therefore do not think that sorrow sits so slightly on my brow, as to be blown off with two or three fair promises; Oh no, I cannot so suddenly forget so good a Man, and pitch my mind upon a sec●●● Husband, though I must confess that my youthful Age will not permit me to dany myself a second Husband, but whoever that shall be, that likes me so well as to marry me must stay a while longer, and then without doubt I may be easily entreated if I like the Man, which I know nothing to the contrary but that you may be he. if I find you love me as you say you do, I am Sir  
Your Servant in Sorrow, S. T.   

A Merchant to his Factor in the West-Indies.  
Mr. Johnson,  
I Have sent you over some goods for you to dispose of in the Ship called the Woodstrange, Captain Stout Commander; you will find the particulars and the prizes of them, in the Bill herein enclosed, I hope you will give me no occasion to doubt your care in putting of them off to the best advantage; however I think it behoves me to advise you, to have a quick eye to find out how the Markets go with you, and if there is not many of those sorts of Commodities arrived at Virginia (as I hope there is not) than I do not question but you will sell mine at a good advantage; therefore pray be diligent and make an enquiry after those concerns: for in your good management of my affairs in those parts depends my whole livelihood, I would have you traffic them away for Tobacco only, and return my venture back by the same Vessel, this with my prayers for good success is all at present,  
Your loving Friend, W. P. London, November 15. 1675.   

The Factor's Answer.  
Honoured Sir,  
I Have received those Goods which were mentioned in the Note which you enclosed in your last Letter dated the twenty fifth day of November, one thousand six hundred seventy and five, they came safe to my, hands without the least da● 〈◊〉 and I have disposed of them according to my best judgement, I hope you do not question my best care and double diligence in serving you, who repose so much confidence and trust in me. It happened to be just as you imagined, and wished, for there was very few of those sorts of Commodities arrived at our Port at the time you sent yours, therefore I had the opportunity to put them off at a good rate, and with great advantage: according to your desire, I have returned you back by the same Ship five hundred Hogsheads of Tobacco, which I hope will come safe to London, and if they do I know there will no small profit arise to you by them, thus Sir trusting them to the protection of the Almighty, and the Mercy of the Seas, I rest  
Yours always ready to serve you faithfully, E. Johnson.   

A Letter to dissuade a Friend from marrying.  
Loving Friend,  
I Am informed by a friend of yours and mine also, that you are about to commit Matrimony, I mean to betake yourself to House-keeping, and to furnish your house with that monstrous piece of Householdstuff called a Wife, which if true, I am wonderfully sorry for you, that for want of better judgement, or at least without more consideration and consultation, you will put yourself to that unnecessary charge, truly in my opinion one of those Utensils or Commodities which you please to call them, may very very well supply three or four Families, and you living amongst such good Neighbours it is no question but you might borrow one of some of them, for without doubt when you are marri●● they will make bold with you upon the same account for conveniencies sake; thus far I think I have spoke to the purpose, now let me advise you a little farther before you undertake this bold attempt and give you some strong reasons to dissuade linking yourself to such a Serpent that will by't you a thousand ways; to name them particularly would be a task too great, for me to undertake, that is to say, all of them one by one, but some few of them I will demonstrate to thee as a dear Friend: First, her Tongue will command your Will and your humour, and if there should be any opposition to her desires, than she studies how to plague you by her actions; first her commands will be for Money, and more than a necessary sum must be had for such uses as you must not know of, and if you make an enquiry, there shall be no peace in the house for a Month together; Perhaps her lascivious desires may lead her to some merry Meeting, with some of her Neighbouring Gossips, and with them having a while pretty well boozed, and soaked their Souls with good brisk Wine, then in steps a Man of the times, a brave Gallant, who seeing your Wife to be young, and something amorous, amongst the rest of this jovial crew he singles her out, and taking her into some more convenient place; where with a few flattering words he entices her to make you a Cuckold, which he calls being kind to him; and thus she revengeth herself on you for not submitting yourself to her will in every thing: and 'tis forty to one but she being full of youthful desire does from that very hour conceive with child by her lusty Gallant, and you forced to Father the Brat of another Man's begetting. But to judge more favourably upon that score, suppose that she amongst that small number of her Sex should prove honest, yet you must be sure to expect from her a certain charge and trouble, but an uncertain profit and contentment: You must be sure to maintain her fine, and in gay Apparel beyond her quality and the strength of your purse; else will she turn her backside to you in bed at night, and if she be not given to scold and rail, then will she be sullen and dogged a whole Week together, and will not speak but frown upon you till you grant her request; Women for the most part being as proud as Lucifer, must be decked up with gorgeous Apparel, to be accounted fine and handsome by the rest of their Neighbours, not regarding how mean and sluttish they are clothed when they are at home with their Husbands. Then for your House though it be made never so convenient for your use, yet when the Wife comes she pretends to espy a thousand faults in it, and will not let you rest till you have made such alterations as she shall think fit, though it be to the pulling down of the third part of it, and so build it again according to her Form; and then for your furniture, alas it will appear too mean for her Ambition; she must have Tables and Chairs, and Bedsteds with Curtains, and all manner of Household goods after the new Mode, and if you deny to do it, she will pick your Pocket and buy them herself, or do something else that is worse. Thus as a Friend I thought fit to admonish you, hoping that you will take it friendly from me; more might be said upon the same subject, but let this suffice from  
A Wellwisher of your happiness, S. T.   

The Young Man's Answer.  
Honest Tom,  
IN good earnest I am sorry to hear that thou hast so great an Aversion to Matrimony, and canst give no greater, nor more substantial reasons why thou and I both ought not to marry and live honestly; In my opinion thou mightest have bestowed thy time a great deal better, then to have wracked thy brains (as I imagine) no less than a whole days time if not more, to frame a debauched Argument, against an honest and Virtuous Woman called a Wife, and under pretence of giving me good Advice and Gounsel, thou rather dost admonish me to practise that rude course of Debauchery, adulterating other honest men's Wives; but dear Tom have a care of those things, for I cannot think otherways by thy Letter but thou art guilty of that crime which thou so readily persuadest me to commit; and now to acquaint thee with certain News, I must tell you that I am married, and therefore can the better confute thy too silly suppositions, knowing of a certain that all those fictions which thou hast raised against Marriage, are false and of no moment; Therefore for thy better Instruction, I shall desire thee to give a diligent attention, whilst I soberly vindicate a married Life and contradict thy foolish Objections gradually as thou hast stated them. First, I say her Tongue cannot, neither is it desired that it should command my will, no further than I shall upon all occasions think fit and reason, if it happens at any time that there is a dispute between us about the management of any small concern, and she perhaps thinks her way best to effect it, and I think mine best; she presently then replies, prithce Sweetheart do it how thou pleasest, I only thought good to tell thee my opinion of it; with these and such like expressions she submits to my will, which I think is far from commanding or usurping authority as you term it, but I rather receive comfort by her Tongue then suffer damage, besides Tom I must tell you that my Wife sings well and pronounces her words with such a becoming Grace, that she never speaks nor sings but she ravishes my Soul: So much for the Tongue, and now concerning Money a little touch, be it known to you Sir, she never wants that, for she has the keeping of all I have, therefore hath no occasion to ask me for any, neither does she go to Taverns with Gossips, for we have Wine in our house, and every honest Neighbour is free to drink of it, and thou Tom shalt be welcome to a glass of brisk Claret, or what Wine thou likest best if thou wilt come and see me, neither am I in the least jealous of being a Cuckold, for I am sure I please her so well myself, that she will have no occasion to try and other Man; it is enough for old Men, or those that are feeble and sickly to be jealous of their Wife's honesty, because they know themselves not able to give them their due benevolence; I cannot believe that a Woman will make a lusty young Man a Cuckold, if she does in my opinion she deserves to be hanged. So much for that, and now to sum up all the rest of thy objections which thou hast made against Marriage, in few words I must tell thee, that my Wife and every other honest Woman is contented with her condition in every respect, and will not covet new fangles as thou believest, but is well satisfied with what is decent and comely according to her Husband's quality, and let me acquaint thee Tom with what I have experienced since I have been married, that there is so much comfort, so much delight and pleasure in a Woman when once she is made a lawful Bedfellow that I would not be unmarried again for all the World; thus hoping thou wilt follow my example, I am  
Thine to my power J. B.   

An angry Letter sent to his Friend for an affront given at their last meeting.  
Sir,  
I Know not what reasons moved you to be so uncivil when you were last in my company, I am sure I gave you no occasion to be so rude, nor to abuse me in such scurrilous Language before all the company that was there present; I expect that you should give me satisfaction by acknowledging your fault, or else show me the grounds whereon you founded your opprobrious discourse, which if you do I may still continue the same good opinion of you as I have hitherto had, but if otherwise you remain perverse and will make me no satisfaction for what is past, from hence forward I do proclaim myself to be your utter enemy, and shall endeavour to make myself amends the next time that you and I shall meet let the place be where it will, expect no favour from his hands, who is  
Yours as you deserve C. B.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
WHen I opened your Letter it looked so big upon me, that had I not had as good a heart as he that writ it, it would have frighted me into a desperate fit of the Ague; but considering a little with myself and plucking up my spirits instead of trembling, my blood began to burn, and with as great a fury as yourself I took my Pen in hand to let you know that what I said at that time was only in a merry humour to recreate myself, and you sitting next to me it seems happened to be the object of my discourse, some of which I am apt to think was very true, the rest was only Jocose; but be it true or false, or what it will I am not much concerned about it; if this answer will not give you satisfaction, you must expect no other from me; however I shall not fear to come into your company at that place where I used to find you,  
Yours as you please to think R. S.   

A Letter to chastise a near Kinsman who is given to Extravagancies.  
Cousin John,  
THe daily noise which rings about the Country of your extravagancies and great debaucheries, causes me at present to write to you, not in anger but by way of advice; desiring that you would see your own folly and learn to be wiser before it be too late: I had thought truly that the University had qualified you better than I perceive it has, for instead of growing better as you grow older, you now grow worse since you went to London; I must confess I have nothing to do with your concerns, only as a Relation and instead of a Father, which indeed you want, to give you good counsel, and to desire you in time to forsake bad company, for they in the end will ruin both Soul and Body; and truly your Estate will soon decay; if you hold on spending as you begin, though at present it is large enough; I wish that Women and Wine be not your Master, which if you avoid I shall not doubt in the least but you will do well enough: How many fine young Gentlemen have I seen that by over-drinking themseives have been brought to ruin and untimely deaths? For when their brains are intoxicated, and the blood inflamed with high drinking, then are they fit for all manner of vice; some in that mad humour run to common Strumpets, where they get the foul Discase, sometimes uncurable; to their everlasting shame and disgrace: others in that heat of blood engage themselves by oath to kill the next Man they meet, he not giving them the least affront, which brings them deservedly to the public place of execution to suffer death, the due reward of such crying fins: Therefore dear Cousin let the thought of these things reflect upon your Soul, that you may appear odious and terrible, in your eyes and apprehension, and that God may turn your heart, and let you see the evil of your ways is the prayers of  
Your everloving Kinsman R. W.   

The young Man's Answer.  
Good Cousin,  
I Received your Letter wherein I hear you find scandalous reports of me in the Country, I admire who should be the Messenger that brings this ill news to you; I find my reputation is very much abused and if you will be so kind to me as to let me know the Author of it; I shall make bold to require such satisfaction of him as shall become a Gentleman to demand. I am apt to think that you ground those ill characters you give me upon suspicion; for certainly no Man nor Woman can be so audacious as to blaze abroad such infamous and undeserved calumnies without the least ground for their so doing; however I am not the first that has been abused in this Nature. I thank God I know myself clear of those great enormities which are alleged against me and laid to my charge, which is a real satisfaction to myself, though not to you and the rest of my friends; and if I may be believed before those insinnating Sycophants who value not to slain a Man's Reputation for a meals Meat: I think I am as little given or addicted to keep ill company as any Gentleman in Town, I cannot deny but that I do drink Wine and will do if I can get Money to buy it, and I hope I shall not want so much as will purchase a bottle or two of Wine all my Life-time, but if perchance I do I must then leave it off and not before; yet thus much I can safely say, that I never drunk so much, that I was thereby deprived of my senses though I know there is too many which are guilty of that crime. But as for a common Whore or Strumpet as you call them, I defy and hate like the Devil; neither am I a great admiver of any Womankind though never so honest, therefore free from those debaucheries you lay to my charge; However I give you many thanks for your good admonition and desire that you will be satisfied that I am not the Man that report says I am,  
But your loving Kinsman, J. S.   

A Letter from a Country Shopkeeper to a Grocer in London for Commodities.  
Sir,  
I Received the last goods you sent me but they were not so good as I expected, whether I must impute it to be your fault in not sending the best, or whether those sort of commodities are not generally so good as they used to be some other years I cannot easily resolve myself; however I am not willing to harbour an ill opinion of you presently, but am resolved to try you farther, therefore I would desire you to send me down by the next return of our Carrier four hundred weight of the best new Raisins of the Sun, two frails of Malago Raisins, and the same quantity of each sort of Spice as you sent me last, pray let them be all very good else you will quite disoblige me for dealing with you any more; I have not sent you any Money, but do intent God willing to be in Town myself about a Month hence, and then I will bring Money and clear all concerns between us; no more at present but that I am  
Your loving Friend and honest Chapman D. F.   

A Letter from the London Grocer to his Country Chapman.  
Loving Friend,  
I Received your Letter, and according to your desire I have sent you down those Commodities you writ to me for, they are all of the very best and I doubt not but will give you very good content; as for those which I sent you formerly which you find fault with, I was not to be blamed for they were the very choicest I had then in my Shop, and I dare boldly say as good as any Man had in London at that time, though I cannot say they were as good as these are which I have sent you now, you need not question but my care shall be to serve you to the best of my power; as for your Money you need not so much as mention it, for I know your pay to be very good and will trust you as far as you shall desire yourself: I would desire you to keep account in your Book what Goods you receive from me, that when we come to reckon there may be no difference betwixt us; thus wishing you good Markets, I rest  
Your friend to serve you to the utmost of my power, R. W.   

A Letter from a Citizen to his Friend in the Country to send him up an Apprentice.  
Loving Countryman,  
I Being now made a Freeman of London, have taken a House and Shop, and my greatest want at present is a Country Lad that would willingly put himself an Apprentice to our Trade, I do not question that if you will be pleased to make a small enquiry amongst some of your Neighbours; but that you may hear of an honest Boy that will be for my turn, the usual rate which we commonly have is forty pounds and seven years' service, ours being a good Trade and not very laborious; besides for our credit's sake we must keep our Servants in no ordinary Apparel as some other small Trades do. I leave it to your discretion to give such a Character of me as you shall think I deserve, and none I think can give a better account of my Life and Conversation than yourself, you having known me from my childhood. When you writ to me, direct your Letter to be left for me at the Windmill in St. John's street, thus with my Love to your Wife and self I am  
Your everloving Friend, T. R.   

The Countreyman's kind Answer.  
Loving Friend,  
I Am glad to hear that you are settled in the world, and according to your desire, I have made a diligent enquiry for a boy to serve you as an Apprentice, and now at last I have heard of one that I hope may be for your turn, he comes of very honest Parentage, and seems to be a sober Lad; his Father hath brought him up to Learning all his time, insomuch that he is reckoned a very good Scholar of his Age, he is sixteen years old and pretty well grown, but all that they scruple at is about the Money, they like the Trade well enough but are not very willing to give forty pounds with him; however they are resolved upon that good Character that I have given you, that the Boy shall come up next Week and be a while with you upon Trial, and afterwards if the Boy like you and the Trade and you approve of him; I do not much question but they will agree with you upon those terms which you have proposed; no more at present but wishing you prosperity I am  
Yours in all friendly kindnesses, S. D.   

A Letter of advice for health.  
Kind and loving Friend,  
I Am very well satisfied that you are seldom well in health whilst you live in London, and if I may be a competent Judge, I suppose I know the grounds and reasons of your sickness which are twofold, in the first place, I imagine that the City Air is not agreeable to your constitution, and not only with you, but it is disagreeable to thousands more, and especially to those that are not naturalised in it, and bred up there, it chokes them up. Another reason is that because you have but little or no employment, you are forced to be continually in company which draws you to drinking either at the Tavern or the Alehouse by reason whereof you lose your Stomach, that you seldom have an Appetite to cat, which much disorders your body; therefore let me advise you for your health's sake to betake yourself to a Country Life, you know you may be welcome to me at all times, who am  
A wellwisher to you upon all accounts S. F.   

The Gentleman's Answer.  
Most dear and loving Friend,  
I Must censess that you have always been so generous and obliging to me, that now it remains on my behalf to study some way to gratify all those unmerited favours which I have received from you and your good Wife, and truly I am apt to think that you like a skilful Doctor have found out the principal causes of all my grievances, and have prescribed a most safe and courteous remedy for my cure, and should I refuse to make use of your kind and free prosser I should be found injurious to myself, and basely ungrateful to so good a Friend; therefore so soon as I have dispatched some small concerns here in Town and taken leave of my Friends, you may expect me in the Country, let me beg the favour of you to send me up a Horse, for I cannot endure to ride in the Coach; thus with my hamble service to yourself and second self I am  
Your most obliged Servant, F. S.   

A Letter to his Friend in praise of his Mistress.  
Honest School-fellow,  
LOng time have I rambled about this vain World, and have visited most of those Nations and Islands to which our Merchants traffic, and the chiefest of my business hath been to find out a Woman that I could like well enough to make her my Wife, to tell you a long Narration of my Travels and of the dangerous Voyages I have undergone, where I have seen grim death come tumbling to me in a monstrous Wave ready to devour me in a moment; or if I should tell you of a thousand more difficulties which I have escaped 'twould fill a Ream of Paper instead of one sheet: therefore omitting all those dolesome Histories for brevity's sake (though had I a convenient time they would be worth repeating) I shall only proceed to tell you that at length I have obtained a Mistress, one that I intent to marry and make my Wife, and now I will begin to make a description of her beauties: She is a Woman and a fair one too, and so fair she is that all that ever saw her admire her beauty; her Features in her Face are so excellent, that should the best of Painters strive to draw them out to the life, he would wrong her beauty much; for all his Art could never form so rare a Creature: her Cheeks with red and white so neatly decked that you would think the Lily and the Rose did strive in them which should have the Victory, till at length they both being conquerors conjoin together, and centre there to make one perfect beauty: Her eyes like two refulgent Diamonds are placed above to cast a splendent lustre on her sweet comely face: Her Coral Lips that close her pretty Mouth are of an equal size, neither too thick nor yet too thin; Her Teeth more White than is the Ivory, like to two Rows of inestimable Pearl stand in a decent order in her Mouth, none striving for pre-eminence above their fellows. Her Hair which on this Globe of Wisdom grows more White than is the best of Flax by far, and softer than the unwrought Silk that comes from the Bowels of the labouring Silkworm, like to the smallest threads of Silver hangs two handfuls down below her slender Waste; Her Neck an Ivory Pillar is on which this Globe doth stand, but whiter is by far, her Arms two branches are, which do proceed forth from the bottom of her Neck for to defend and keep secure that curious piece her Face: Her Breasts like to two little Hills are placed on either side of a most fruitful Valley; Her Belly round and smooth but not too big, and underneath, oh there dear Jack, oh there the place of pleasure grows; but hold rude Pen forbear to nominate or once to mention any more of that, for fear great Jove should be my Rival too, and on his ganymed come hover down and take away my Jewel of such worth. Now last of all to let you understand this lively Fabric is not mute nor dumb, she has a Voice that should you hear her sing, ravished with Admiration you would think the Spheres conjoined with Heavenly Harmony to lend you Music to delight mankind: Thus take her altogether I leave you to judge, whether she may not compare with Venus if not excel her, this is the Mistress of my Heart and Soul; and though I have tarried long to find her out, yet I cannot choose but think my time well spent having met with this fair Jewel now at last: and now dear Jack to consummate my happiness, I invite you to my Nuptials where you shall take a view of my all charming Bride, and for once bless yourself at the sight of Nature's most adored Masterpiece: Next Monday we have appointed to be our happy Wedding-day that we may begin our joys in the beginning of the Week; I shall expect your good Company, therefore pray do not fail me, for I shall think myself much honoured in your presence; thus with my humble service presented to your dear self with the rest of my good Friends that live with you, I begging your pardon for this tedious Epistle, do take my leave and subscribe myself,  
The humblest of your slaves T. R.   

His Friend's merry Answer, praising his foul Mistress by the contraries.  
Dear Tom,  
I Received your large Epistle wherein I understand that you have been a great Traveller, sine? I saw you to search after a handsome woman that you could fancy well enough to make her your Spouse, I am hearty glad that you have been so successful at length to meet with such an Angellike Beauty, which if all be true as you have reported to me she is to be admired above all the Women in the whole world, but however if she should not be altogether so amiable and glorious as you relate her to be, I cannot so much blame you; for it is but verifying the Proverb which we use here in England, which is, that Old Men and Travellers may Romance by authority, I will not say lie Tom for that is a gross word, and I very well remember that my Master once did whip me severely for giving one of my Schoolfellows the lie, which will be a memorandum for me as long as I live, for you know that according to another Proverb the  Child dreads the fire, so much for that: Now I will also give you a full description of my Mistress which I have picked up in your absence if you will: I did not go far to seek her, for she had such a monstrous love for me that she began to declare her affections to me first after this manner; Kind Sir quoth she, though it is not the custom among us English women to make our application to Men for any thing, though we have never so much mind to it, yet I think it is a great wrong to our whole Sex; for we may stay long enough before you will proffer us any kindness now a days, I am sure I can speak with sorrow upon my own account that I have been marriageble above these twenty years, and never yet was asked that reasonable question by any Man, I know not what should be the reason of it, I am not so much deformed but that I may be beloved; however what I want in beauty, I am sure I can make good in Estate, for I have Lands and Live with Bags of Gold and Silver innumerable; therefore my suit to you dear Sir is that you would be pleased to take pity on a distressed Virginity, by making of me your lawful Wife for now I begin to hate a single Life. I hearing of this Voice which did something imitate that of a seriech-Owl, and looking in her rueful face know not at present what answer to return my Gentlewoman, at length Tom considering of those infinite number of Bags of Gold and Silver, besides a visible Estate in Houses and Land, Isaith, I began to make much on her, and taking her to a Tavern I treated her with a small collation where I could perceive that she would tope stoutly, however to prosecute m● design concerning the bags Tom, I humoured her in every thing? insomuch that I promised her Marriage upon these turns; that she would make a full discovery of all the Bags, and give 〈◊〉 me in my own keeping, and also that she should give me a clear possession of all her Houses and 〈◊〉 the next Court-day, delivering up all Writings into my cuscady all which she willingly granted, and after the Court was past and I made Possessor of all she had, the next day I married with her privately, giving the World leave to laugh at her deformity whilst I make merry with my pretty young Doxy abroad. But to show that I am not ashamed of her Tom, I'll describe her shape and features to you, and afterwards you may compare 〈◊〉 can Spouse with mine if you can: Her pretty Cheeks not round nor red nor white, but long and broad inclining to the yellow: Her rolling Eyes like those of a fine Calf which I have seen of six weeks old but bigger: her sneeze in comely wise like to the beak of a lovely Owl beads down unto her Neck, which well 〈…〉 searc●● can per●●●, for her ●●ing So●●ers do support 〈…〉 Breasts like to the well ●●teir'd ●●●gs of 〈…〉 Father's old ●y'd Cow, 〈…〉 at 〈…〉 with a full bag: H●r 〈…〉 Belly 〈…〉 are— that when I went to bugg her both my Arms 〈…〉 my prets 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 And 〈…〉 her Belly ●●m 〈…〉— for I know you'll long to have a touch at that: Oh there is pleasure Tom! such pleasure just as Ixion had when he embraced a Cloud: And now dear Tom, I have acquainted you with all her excellencies, if you long for any part about her, come over and take it freely; for I will be sure to come to your Wedding, where I shall expect the same freedom,  
Yours in all Love J. D.   

A Letter full of Compliments.  
Most worthy Friend,  
I Being so infinitely obliged to you for those innumerable favours which you from time to time have been pleased to confer upon me, in common gratitude can do no less but make an humble acknowledgement in token of my great thankfulness 〈◊〉 ●hose unmerited kindnesses; having no other way to retaliate them at present but by telling you, that your unworthy Servant will be always ready at your command to obey and serve you to the very utmost of my poor power and ability, my daily prayers shall be that you may be ever prosperous in this World, and that you may receive the due reward of your Charitable Acts and good Hospitality in the World to come; what else I can say or do which may conduce to your happiness and add to your contentment, I ever shall be ready to act and pray for; thus desiring that at present you will be pleased to accept of my well-wishes and this small Token which I have sent you, which is a Barrel of Oysters; I hearty recommend you to the protection of the Almighty, who is the only keeper and preserver of all Men and all things, I take my leave presuming to write myself,  
Yours to serve you by night or day, W. W.   

The Sommersetshire Man's clownish Answer in their own Country Language.  
Sir,  
I Received a piece of Paper from you, which I think Volks call a Letter, but when I pulled it open I am zure I could not tell won letter in it; I gave it to won of our Neighbours; that is to zay, won of our Town; that is to zay, won that dwells within two or three doors of our door a little thick way; and he being a better Scholard than my present zelf made hard shift to pick out the words, but the Devil a bit of zense can I vind in it, you talk of obliging and vavours, in my Conscience Sir you be not like me wont jot, nor do I vavour you at all; you also talk of gratitude and merits: I'll zwear I do not know what to make of your Lingua, my Neighbour tells me that it is Latin and I wonder that you would write Latin to me, you know I cannot stand under it; and in truth you shall be no zervant of mine; I will have no zuch zervants: as for your writing our Volks put it in the Virt, and for those shells you zent I know not how you call them, I e'en mended our do or with them, and so I thank you warrant 'em, when you come again you shall be welcome to your old Friend,  
Dick Downright.   

A loving Letter sent to a Gentlewoman.  
Madam,  
IN what a multitude of sorrows I am involved since you went out of Town no Tongue is able to express, nor Pen to write; Had you commanded me with open breast to have stood before you whilst you had took my own Sword and had pierced my now bleeding heart, I could then more willingly have suffered a death by your hand, than thus long to undergo a continual torment for want of your good company: Ah Madam! you know my Heart is with you, how can you be so cruel to make me heartless? live thus long without you, can you forget those pleasant Evening hours which we together spent beguiling time which gently slid away; the silent night not daring to disturb our harmless mirth and innocent delight; whilst on my knees you sat, my loving Arms did circle round and gently grasp your small and tender body, you sometimes would ravish all my senses with a Song, whilst I amazed at your warbling Notes charmed to a silence, and gazed upon your powerful sparkling eyes, whose double lustre would pierce a heart more hard and more obdurate than is the Adamant: Then Madam, then stealing of a kiss was not content but robbed you still of more; I kissed so long that I at length perceived myself to be the loser; for all that time my heart and soul departed from my breast and vowed they would possess a nobler Room; then into your sweet bosom both did fly and begged an entertainment which you gave, and seemed to cherish them with warm desire: I was content, and was glad they had made choice of you to he their Guandian; provided I might be a visitant to come and see they no disorders bred within your quiet breast. But now alas dear Madam! you have left me comfortless, I am left to sigh and and breath my passion out unto the open Air without redress; and cannot comfort find till you return: Then Madam on my knees I beg, return, and give me ease, unless you do intent to be my death by staving longer from me; thus to the powers above I do commit you, desiring you to pity him who is  
Your languishing Lover R. T.   

The Gentlewoman's kind Answer.  
My sweet Soul,  
LEt not your passion overmuch disturb your rest and quiet: sleep secure and know that I an equal sharer of your grief, do sigh and mourn in private all alone, not daring to disclose my unknown waes unto the open Air, far fear some blast should whisp 〈◊〉 this my discontent; I am therefore forced to bide my mysteries, and for a time conceal my Inward pain 〈◊〉 then undergo the angry 'swounds of an unkind Father; whom I fear would count my loving you a disobedience; My study is to run a safer course, and by degrees to penetrate the Breast of my indulgent Mother; telling her the noble love which I bear in my b●som is placed on you, and none but you alone shall make her Daughter's Bride, then on my knees I'll beg of her to mollify the fury of my too rigurous Father, who hath forgot since be first trod the paths of youthful love: My hopes are still that she will moderate his strict severity and make him yield to gratify our loves by his good will and make us ever happy with his blessing; who knows but these my hopes may take effect? My Mother loves me with a tender love, and when she sees my resolution fixed to marry you, and with no other Man, I know she'll never rest till she overcome my Father with entreaties to be kind; Then will our meeting be again with joy: But if at last my expectations sail and that my Father will not give consent we should enjoy each other, yet be sure I'll never leave my Dear until cold Death shall seize my body, and from thence divide my Heart and Soul which are not in his power: them I'll bequeath to thee my dearest Love, for they indeed already are thy own; I know I have thy loving Heart and Soul within my Breast, where they shall safely dwell: My Father's cruelties shall not molest their happy being, neither will I long detain them at this distance from my Love: For let my aged Parents frown or smile, within this Month I'll fly into thy Arms and never part till floods of joyful tears have washed away all sorrows from our hearts and hands; that nought but Death shalt part us, In true constancy  
I remain thine alone. S. V.   

A Letter from a Gentlewoman to her Husband, who had buried her Child in the Country.  
Loving Husband,  
I Must now acquaint you with sorrowful and I suppose unexpected news, if tears and sighs of a broken hearted Wife will give me leave to write to you; which is, that cruel death who favours neither infancy, youth nor old Age, has deprived us of our pretty sweet boy, which was the only joy and comfort of our lives; and truly grief has almost done its worst with me, for I bewailing of this our great loss am brought so low, that I think I shall scarce recover myself to be able ever more to come again and see thee; his sickness held him but three days before he died, else I had sent you word; but now it is too late, for we shall never see him more: I borrowed Money of my Landlady (where I am) to bury him in a decent manner, therefore I would desire you to come down as soon as you can and bring Money with you to discharge what here I stand engaged for, no more but that I am  
Your sorrowful Wife R. W.   

Her Husband's Answer.  
Dear Wife,  
I Must confess this unerpected News goes nigher to my heart then if I had lost all that ever I had or am like to have in this World; that having but one sweet Child we should be deprived of him so on a sudden, however we must be contented with those afflictions that God is pleased to lay upon us, let me desire you to bear it as patiently as you can, and cast not yourself down with grief; for now he is gone, all the sorrow and mourning in the whole World will avail us nothing, nor stand us in no stead, for he is gone to him that first gave him ●●s, and cannot be reached by mortal Man; therefore prithee be comforted and rest thyself contented, and I will come down as soon as possibly I can, and bring Money with me to discharge what there thou owest, and do intent if thou art able to travel to take thee up to London with me, in the mean time I rest  
Thy disconsolate Husband T. W.   

A Letter to congratulate a Friend's happy return from his long Journey.  
Loving Friend,  
A Thousand welcomes to your Native Country, where every heart during that redious time which you were absent felt not little grief, but every one lamented their great loss in missing you our true and faithful Friend: Your presence caused an awful reverence, and made the vicious and obnoxious Man to creep and slink away his head in private; and now again we on the selfsame score who are your friends, at this your safe return are blest with joy and gladness: But I above the rest of your wellwishers have double cause to thank auspicious Heaven, who safely has conducted you at length to this our Shore; where being arrived each creature does congratulate your safe return; I now can say I have a Friend and Father to give me counsel when I stand in need of it, this Letter does but serve dear Friend to let you know that now I have notice of your happy arrival, I would not only by my Pen bid you welcome home, but by my words and actions in your presence express my joy and humble thankfulness to Heaven's Divinity in taking care of so much Loyalty and bringing back our Captain, which having miss and been without so long, we your poor Soldiers languishing betwixt hope and despair did fear you had been lost; but now you are come, the Bells in a loud harmony shall ring your welcome home all day and night; the Martial Drums shall beat aloud your Fame; The Silven Trumpets with shrill Notes shall sound your praise forth with honour and renown, thus shall you ride Triumphant through the streets until you come to your most sumptuous Castle long desolate for want of your abode, where at your approach the deep mouthed Canon with their thundering voice shall bid all hail to you their valorous Master; thus praying Sir for your continuance with us, I take leave at present and remain  
Your much comforted Friend R. D.   

The Captain's thankful Answer sent to his friend expressed with many Compliments.  
My well beloved Friend,  
YOu cannot be more joyful at my safe return, than I am glad to hear that yet you live, and living are in health, that once again we may embrace each other with true Love and Friendship, such as is inseparable, had I been a Woman and unknown to you; your Rhetoric would have given me a sufficient cause to think and suspect that you had flattered me; but being a Man and knowing well your former friendship and true affection which you ever did bear to me, unworthy of so great favours; must needs imagine that your joys are real, and since that blessed Heaven now at length has safely brought me to my Native Country; the chiefest of my studies shall be to render myself worthy of those praises which you have been pleased to put upon me, and make my presence acceptable to my honest Countrymen; and more especially to you my dear Friend whom I long to see; for friendship at a distance though never so real cannot enjoy itself, with that true happiness and sweet content, as that which mutually conjoins and meets together; then let me beg of you to make no delay, but let me have your company at my Castle, where you shall be my guest for one six months; I also must entreat you not to come alone but let your virtuous Bride accompany you, with your good Son, where you shall be sure to find the same welcome as you give me at this my safe arrival; And when we are together, I will give you a true and persect account of all my travels, what dangers I have escaped and what recreations I have had ever since I left you and departed from my dear Country, thus expecting your coming I at present remain  
Your Friend in expectation S. F.   

A hasty Letter to his Cousin.  
Good Cousin,  
I Am informed that you intent to let your house and put off all your stock, and betake yourself to a private Lodging; I much wonder what you mean and intent by so doing, I doubt you go unadvisedly about those concerns; I know not how the case stands with you: However I imagine that a little good counsel in this matter would have done you no harm but good; you know it is an old saying, that it is good to look before we leap, and not to run precipitously hand over head, and not regard what you are going about: However if it prove well I shall like it well, and all will be well; but if it succeed contrary to your expectation, blame not me nor any body else, but your own self. However now you cannot contradict but that according to the Latin Proverb Praemonitus, praemunitus: Forewarned, forearmed; and that is all that I can say to you at present who am in haste,  
Your loving Cousin, W. V.   

The Answer in haste.  
Good Kinsman,  
IN haste I thank you for your hasty Letter, and though my present business be in haste concerning my hasty removing from my house, yet not quite so hasty as not to consider what I am about to do: I do not much question but that I have had the approbation of as wise Men as yourself concerning the management of this business, and they with me do all of them agree that I have enough to live upon, without encumbering myself with a multiplicity of business, and get but little by it; besides if I should continue House-keeping, I should be ruined, for there is such a gang of flatterers and dissemblers of my kindred, and others that haunt my house, that in a short time they would eat me out of house and home; therefore I think it is better to betake myself to a private Lodging in haste, then by delays to stay longer where I am and be undone by them; I am  
Yours hastily in haste R. Hastings.   

A Letter sent to a Friend condoling his long continued sickness.  
Dear Friend,  
I Am very sorry and much grieved to hear that you thus long have lain languishing on the bed of sickness; my heart participates of your dolorous miseries, feeling by way of sympathy the self same torment which you undergo; but that alas I doubt won't give you ease, though 'tis a seeming comfort (or rather I may say a satisfaction) to be pitied by our Friends. Let me admonish you to take the advice of the best Learned and most eminent Physician that you know of; and be not concerned for parting with your Money, though sickness I know is very chargeable, yet well you know now by sad experience that the perfect enjoyment of your health is far more pleasant and delightful than bags full heaped with Gold and Silver; therefore be not sparing of your Coin, so far as it may be available and conducing to the procuring of your welfare: and that you may recover your former strength shall be the Players of  
Your most affectionate Friend in sorrow S. T.   

The sick Man's thankful Answer.  
Dear Friend,  
THe very sight of your most cordial Letter did give somis ease to my distressed miseries, for which you have the kind and hearty thanks of a sick and almost dying Man; 'tis long since I considered that worldly wealth is but dross, neither do I esteem of it as any comfort only to procure those necessaries, which while we live on earth we stand in need●●; for well I know that when my breath is departed from me, and my blood grown cold, and death hath brought my body to the Grace; that then the wealth of Croe us will not avail me any thing, nor stand me in any stead: My heart is fixed now upon a better subject; which is, that after Death my Soul may find rest and comfort in another World whither now I am going, endeavouring to repent of all my past sins, consulting with my Maker concerning my happiness; for he is the best and only Physician that can give ease to those my sore afflictions: this as a farewell to you I do send, who am  
Till death gives ease your friend in torments B. D.   

A Letter to persuade a Friend to betake himself to business.  
Loving Friend,  
When I consider the many inconveniencies that are incident to those that live remissly and have no employment, it puts me in mind of your Life and Conversation; and to deal plainly and honestly with you like a Friend, I am very sorry to see that idleness has taken such possession of your mind that you will betake yourself to no business; but just like a Swine you eat and drink what is set before you, but never endeavour to get Money to buy more: Suppose you have enough barely to live upon in time of your Family's health; that ought not to be all the care that you should take, for it behoves every Master of a Family to provide and lay up something against a rainy day as they say; that is, against sickness or any other casualty that may happen to you before you die, besides already you have two Children pretty Babes, and it may please God to send you more; which when they come to bigness and ripeness of Age will expect that you should give them a portion according to their education, which must be Gentily for your own repute and credit's sake; all which will cost you no small sum of Money, and when your Estate comes to be divided amongst three or four it will be but a slender maintenance for them all; my advice is therefore that you forthwith employ your stock of Money in some honest way which you understand, and that will improve your fortune by careful industry with some small pains, which will be very advantageous for your bodily health; for always to sit still and do nothing but eat and drink, and sleep; corrupts the blood and will impair your health. I know you understand the way of malting well, now I should think that it would be a fine recreation to you for to ride up and down the Markets to buy in Corn at the best season of the year, and so keep Men to manage your business at home; thus might you busy yourself and reap the fruits and benefits of your own labour; besides it would be mighty commendable and credible for you to be accounted a Man of business, and if perhaps this way of dealing does not answer your expectation as to matter of profit; you may soon lay it aside and betake yourself to something else that you fancy will be more advantageous to you; for there is a thousand ways for a Man that has ready Money to improve it, and gain more by it then at the rate of six per Cent to let it out to Usury; besides if you got never so little by your employment, yet I would have you follow it, for it will keep you from idleness which is the Mother of shame and beggary; more might be said of that, but I suppose you understand enough of those things, if you would but practise according to your knowledge; be sure to give your Children learning, and when they are big enough put them out to Apprentice, for than they may live without your assistance; where they have gotten a good Trade if they prove good Husbands they may obtain great preferment: this for your Father's sake I advise you, for indeed upon his Deathbed he desired me to give you good Counsel who am  
A greater friend to you then yond are to yourself F. G.   

His Friends Answer in short.  
Dear Friend,  
I Kindly thank you for your good advice whether I am guilty or not guilty of what you task me with; Nevertheless I judge charitably of you and your well-wishes, that I think no less but that you writ to me out of pure love; I must confess that hitherto I have not settled myself to any public business nor have I been concerned much in worldly affairs, being something cautious how I dispose of my Money, but since it is your wise opinion that it will be for my advantage to put myself into some manner of dealing; I'll show my willingness in being obedient to your commands, and next acquit myself of that ignominious and reproachful companion called Idleness, for it in it thing I hate, had I an employment whereby I might busy myself, for I have an active, not a sluggish Soul: as for my Children, Sir, it behoves me to take care of their welfare, and it was always my purpose to bring them up to Learning, and afterwards to put them to good Trades, however I thank you for your friendly admonition, and remain,  
Your obsequious friend to serve H. I.   

A Letter from an Elder Brother to the Younger reproving him of Extravagancies.  
Loving Brother,  
'TIs strange to me to see you run these courses: except a Man was mad, surely he would not make all the hast he could to his own destruction; you are wise enough to know that those extravagancies will certainly ruin you if you proceed and do not give a timely check to your immoderate and immodest desires, for shame leave off your drunkenness before it be too late, whilst yet you have something left to maintain you like a Man, for when all is gone, you then perhaps may with sorrow sigh and wish you had been wiser and not misspent your time and Money, but you will find no redress nor pity from any body, as for my own part if you will not take up and become a sober Man I will not own you for my Brother, neither will I countenance nor assist you in the least in any thing that you shall take in hand, but if you mend your Life you shall assuredly find me to be  
Your Friend and Brother J. K.   

The younger Brother's Answer.  
Good Brother,  
I Am so far from thanking you for your advice that I must needs tell you, that I am wonderful sorry for your ignorance; I bless God for those natural parts he hath given me, and next I thank my good old Father (which I bope is now in Heaven) for bringing me up to Learning, that now I can see above the reach of such illiterate Asses as yourself: alas for you! that which you call drunkenness and extravaganty, I can make appear is the better part of Man; his very Life and Soul, it is to converse with such Men that are airy and brisk, those Men are full of Wit, Reason and right understanding: We over two or three Bottles of brisk Wine can compass round the spacious Earth, or when we please can give a reason how to fathom the deep gulf of the Red Sea; or soar aloft with reason and sound judgement, and take a view of those Heavenly Constellations, taking the circumference of the broad faced Sun, and tract his pale faced Sister in her nightly paths, and give the substantial grounds of her monthly mutability; taking the exact magnitude of every Star; and tell you which are fixed Planets, and which are movable; calling them all familiarly by their Names: This we such drinkers can perform and more, which should I name, you would think me mad indeed: and but only that you are my elder Brother, I should scarce forbear to call you Fop or Fool who envy at those who practise that which your shallow brains are never able to attain to: but just like a Carrier's horse you have but one pace, a softly jogging on in the self same Road, which you have trod in ever since your Infancy: Neither will you be put out of your Road nor pace, but will continue at the old rate in spite of reason and discretion, who are your utter enemies, insomuch that you cannot abide them, but hate them with a perfect hatred; nor will you suffer them to come within your doors: Oh blind stupidity! 'tis well my Father left thee a good Estate; else hadst thou been left to live by thy Wits, I am sure thou must have starved the first week after his decease: but he was a wise Man that did foresee those infirmities that how waste born to, and so prevented poverty from coming to thy doors; yet thou with fear of want canst scarcely rest, and without cruse dost thou pinch thyself and thy Family, not having Wit enough to know one half of that Estate which thou hast left thee, nor how to make the best use of it; that so thou wilt miserably live to thy Lives end, though indeed thou canst not want: prithee Brother let me advise thee to leave thy babbling in pretending to give me counsel, and I think the better way will be to come and live with me, or let me come and live with you, and leave but the management of thy Estate to my disposing, I'll warrant thee we will live like Princes, and never want any thing else that Money can obtain: and this I am sure will be the best for thee to live at content, for now I know you live in fear; thus wishing that you would take my counsel is all at present from  
Your Jovial Brother R. K.   

A Letter sent from a London Quaker to one of his Country Brethren.  
Friend George,  
IN the breathe forth of the Spirit I writ unto thee, to let thee know that blessed be the God of all power, I and my Family with the rest of our dear Brothers and Sisters of thy acquaintance are in sound and perfect health, and do enjoy our meetings with peace and quietness, free from the disturbance of the enemy; our Assemblies do increase exceedingly: Our Friend John has been much with us of late, being wonderfully carried forth in the Ministry to the Conversion of many Infidels; thou knowest that he is a precious heart, and in the Spirit of meekness doth overcome their perverse Natures: Salute me to our dear Friend thy Wife, poor innocent Soul my Bowels do yearn towards her, and verily I have a great affection for her; she is a pretty Lamb and I long to visit her, for truly that last kindness which she shown unto me when she was last in Town, cannot, nay must not be forgot; prithee dear Friend send her to Town again, and I shall be very free to entertain her who am  
Thine in the Lord, A. S.   

The Country Quaker's Answer.  
Dear Abraham,  
I Am rejoiced at these tidings which thou hast sent me in thy sweet Epistle, for it is a great refreshing to my inward parts to hear of the welfare of our Friends and Brethren, with our Holy Sisters; but more especially I do rejoice that truth increaseth so much amongst you, I know our Friend John is very powerful in the Ministry, and verily we want him much amongst us, having not seen him this six months; insomuch that the Sisterhood about us do bewail his absence thus long: for they thou knowest are often troubled with failings, and want to be strengthened daily with powerful Men; however I know he cannot come until the Lord doth send him, and then he will not tarry: I question not honest George, thy kindness to my Wife, for she indeed hath signified so much to me and does speak of coming up to London within six days: Salute me to thy Wife and Family and to the rest of our Friends, and that is all at present from  
Thy Brother in the Lord, G. D.   

A Letter of excuse.  
Sir,  
I Must beg your pardon that I could not be so good as my word in waiting on you yesterday, for an extraordinary business of great importance sell out just as I was coming to you, and prevented me of the great happiness of seeing you and enjoying your good company; however I know your good Nature will forgive what I could not perform, and on that I rely; giving myself an assurance of a smile and not a frown when I see you next, which shall be the very first opportunity I can steal from my urgent affairs, having no greater felicity then to be in your good company, and do take it as a great favour that my unworthy presence is thought acceptable to a person of so great honour and worth as yourself, but that is your humility to condescend to my undeserts: But lest I should seem to be too prolix and tedious in making my Apology, I for this time humbly desist and write myself  
Your humble Servitor R. C.   

The Gentleman's Answer.  
Kind Sir,  
YOu need not have given yourself the trouble to make Apology for your not coming to me according to your promise, for I have had too large an experience of your love and friendship towards me, to believe that any frivolous concerns could have detained you from making good your ward; neither am I so injudicious but that I know full well that business must not be neglected to visit Friends, nor would I be so injurious to your interest, to disoblige or hinder you from prosecuting your earnest affairs, though I must confess that I take a great delight in your company; therefore I desire of you to be so kind to me, as to let me enjoy you as often as conveniency will permit and give leave; I design next Wednesday if health continue to go down to my Countryhouse and hunt a Buck; and if you have leisure from your own occasions, pray favour we with your pleasant Society, your welcome I hope you will not question from  
Your loving Friend T. R.   

A Letter sent to a Gentleman in way of Petition.  
Honoured Sir,  
AMongst the rest of your charitable Acts and deeds, I humbly beg that you would be pleased to grant me one small boon, and for ever make me happy, and obliged to pray for you; which is, that you would accept of me your unworthy Servant so well, that I may succeed my Father in that Office, which whilst he was living did enjoy, who is now dead and buried; and I question not but that I shall officiate and behave myself so well, that you shall not hereafter repent you, that you did countenance and show me any kindness in this matter, but with all humility I shall carry myself obliging towards you and the rest of those worthy Gentlemen that are therein concerned. I know Sir that it lies in your power to stand my friend in this business, and I hope you will be pleased to think me capable of what I make my request to you for, being brought up and educated under my Father in the same way; my industry and diligence with humble gratitude shall ever attend you, whilst I am Sir,  
Your Servant in all thankful acknowledgement P. Q.   

The Gentleman's Answer.  
Honest Peter,  
I Am very sorry to hear of your Father's Death, the last time that be and I were together truly I little thought or imagined that he was so nigh his end, though I must confess that he was pretty well stricken in years, you may assure yourself that for his sake and your own also I will do you any kindness that lies in my power, and though the management of this concern does not wholly depend on my single choice and approbation; there being several other Gentlemen you know which are equally concerned with me in the same business, yet I do not question in the least but that they will freely condescend to my propositions in your behalf, therefore rest yourself contented for a while, and doubt not but that you may succeed your Father in this place, and when we meet together you may be confirmed according to your desire; no more at present but remain  
Your assured Friend, R. S.   

A Letter from a Gentleman to a Country Schoolmaster concerning putting his Son to School with him.  
Worthy Sir,  
ALthough I have not had the happiness as yet to be well acquainted with you, yet your good works have rendered you famous to my opinion, having partly understood some of your excellent qualifications in educating youth by some of my near Neighbours, who have been concerned with you by committing their children to your tuition and government; which by evident examples you have demonstrated that you have taken no small pains and care in order to their benefits, for I find they have made a good proficiency considering their time and Age; I have a Son Sir about ten years of Age that I intent to commit to your charge very suddenly, therefore I would desire you to govern him according as you shall find him well or ill disposed, not with too much severity nor too much lenity, and I shall be willing to answer any reasonable demands as you shall desire both for his board and Schooling; pray send me word if you please to accept of him, and I will speedily come down along with him, who am  
Your Servant unknown, J. T.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
I Must confess you are a Stranger to me, nevertheless I am bound by the rules of civility to give you thanks for your good opinion of me; however I hope if you ever make trial of what you have hitherto but only had by reports, that I shall make good that Character which your Neighbours have given to your own satisfaction and belief. If you please to bring your Son down to me Sir I shall be very careful of him as I am of all others which I take in hand, and I doubt not in the least but that we shall quickly agree upon terms: I have conveniency enough to entertain him, and we live in a very good wholesome Air; I never had a Boy that lodged in my house return home sick since I kept School, which is now about sixteen years since: Yet I have entertained many good men's Sons; as for his disposition I shall soon learn and find out what temper he is of, and accordingly shall have an eye towards him; thus till I see you Sir I remain  
Yours in all reasonable service W. K.   

A Letter to a Gentlewoman with a Ring sent as as token.  
Fairest of Creatures,  
I Here present you with the true Emblem of my love, it is a Ring which represents my Love to you is endless, that though you frown upon me and seem to slight my proffered services, yet still my Love endures as firm as at the first; neither can all your angry denials to my long continued suit alter or change my loving resolution. This Ring is Gold the purest of all Metals, which signifies (if that you please to take it so) that my Love is pure, and the purest of all Love; not tainted nor corrupted with any thoughts of worldly interest, but 'tis your love alone Madam that I ask; how can you be so cruel to your adorer, one that takes no delight in any Creature living, but yourself. I dare not call you unkind nor speak the least ill thing against you, for my love is so great that I cannot call your disdain unworthiness. Let pity move you to compassion, which if I find, I shall not doubt but that I shall quickly be a Conqueror, till than I restless live.  
The object of your scorn N. L.   

Her Answer.  
Sir,  
IF that you count it any happiness to be beloved of one so mean as I am, who hitherto have held you in disdain and laughed at all your discontent with scorn: Then bless that happy hour when you did buy that Ring you sent me for a token; not for the value of the Ring I love you, but those your kind expressions which you writ to me in your last Letter have moved my heart to pity, you then now may assure yourself a Conqueror for I do pity you, and not only so, but I love you too for your true constancy, had you been fickle and had took denial in a short time, I never would have granted you what now I do; then now be comforted my Love, and cast all sorrow from thy heart, for I am thine and will be to my death: think not of any thing that has formerly passed between us, for I will love thee the better for the time to come, and when you please to come and visit me; you shall be welcome to her who is  
Your affectionate Lover, J. P.   

A Letter sent to a Gentleman as a Challenge.  
Sir,  
YOu may take notice first of the affront you gave me when we were last together; and secondly that I am not of so mean and low a spirit to pass by those your rude actions without taking just revenge according to the offence: therefore you being all Man last night, I hope will not prove yourself to be less to morrow morning about four of the Clock in Lamb's conduit fields with your Sword in your hand, where we will end the dispute which you contend about, but if you refuse to meet me at the place and time which I have appointed, I shall post you up about the Town for an inconsiderable Fool and scandalous coward, and shall make myself satisfaction some other way; this from  
Your present enemy and disobliged Friend F. D.   

The Answer.  
Good Mr. Huff,  
WHat, is that little spark of courage which has lain asleep ever since you was born awakened now at last? In troth I am very glad that I gave you occasion last night to rouse it up this morning, and truly had I thought that you durst have been so valiant as to have taken notice of what I had said, I would have spoke ten times more to you then what I did; I will be sure to meet your outrageous self at the place aforesaid, and instead of my Sword I shall only make use of my Scabbard, and bang your sides sufficiently, sending you crying home to your Wife, just as you used to do when you saw a couple of Mastiff dogs fight in the street hard by your own door, I scorn to defile my Sword with such cowardly blood as thine is, but shall rather satisfy myself in giving thee a good sufficient beating, this from  
Your derider, S. N.   

A Letter desiring his Friend to acquaint him with news that is stirring.  
Kind Friend,  
KNowing that your affairs in the World are of no small importance, and that you negotiating yourself with Men of Foreign as well as Domestic business cannot but be acquainted with all the news that is stirring, both at home and also at places more remote; I should be glad to have some small satisfaction from you by a weekly Letter, if you would give yourself the trouble of writing, I would be at what charge they should cost you in sending them, that I might a little please myself in hearing what transactions happen on this our Earthly Globe of Mortality. For in our Country we hear no news, except perhaps I hear that our Neighbour Prattle's Daughters belly gins to swell by eating too many Pease-pottage, or else some body has pricked her there; or else at present we know not what, this and the like stories is all our divertisement; no more but remain  
Yours, expecting to hear from you N. J.   

The Answer.  
Good Cousin,  
I Must humbly beg your pardon for my long silence, and now at length if writing upon such an insignicant account as I now have done: had there been any thing of News abroad worth the relating, and had it come to my ears I would have been sure to have made you acquainted with it e'er this: as for Foreign businesses and affairs of State I hear no noise, God be thanked the Universe of Mankind is hushed into a quiet peace for aught I hear, and trading flourishes indifferent well amongst ingenious Men and good Husbands, but bad Husbands will always be finding fault of the badness of Trade, when it is their extravagancies which makes them sink and decline in the World; as for the News which you tell me concerning your Neighbour's Daughter; I think it is almost Universal, for young Maidens now a days are often troubled with such swell but it seldom lasts them above nine months, and then it assuages again, insomuch that we scarcely take any notice of such like distempers; now of late I may inform you thus much, that the building of St. Paul's Cathedral in London goes on most expeditiously, and I am apt to think will be accomplished a great deal sooner than most men could imagine so vast a structure could be finished: some other news I can acquaint you with, which though it be a little Jocose yet it is very certain, that several Men of several minds, of several conditions, and several qualities; do wear the Bull's Feather upon their heads, and yet they know not some of them that they wear it there, but others do; and count it a great ornament, supposing that their Horns were tipped with Gold, neither will they matter if their Neighbours call them Cuckold, for if they do, they'll ask them to shake hands; all the difference between them being this, the one knows himself to be a Cuckold, and the other only thinks that he himself is none; and I believe you have some of this sort of Cattle in your Country: no more but am  
Yours upon all occasions R. D.   

A dunning Letter sent from a Creditor to his Debtor for Money.  
Sir,  
COntrary to my natural Will and Inclinations, necessity forces me to give you a timely summons that you may provide me some Money against the next quarter-day, for I shall be very much necessitated about that time for Money, else I would not have troubled you as yet, though I ask you for nothing but what is my own: However had I not received great loss of late in my way of Trade, I would not have called in my Money from you, because I know it to be very secure whilst it is in your hands; therefore pray be pleased not to take amiss these my lawful demands, but let me have a speedy Answer from you which may be effectual to my desires, and I will for the time to come be always studious how I may again be serviceable to so good and sure a Friend as yourself, which may assure you that whilst I live I am,  
Yours to the utmost of my power G. R.   

His Friend's kind Answer.  
Kind Sir,  
YOurs I received and am very sorry to hear that you have suffered any loss or damage in the way of your Trade; I wish you may recover with interest what you have lost, and am so far from being angry with you for sending for your own, that I am rather angry with you for questioning that which you might assuredly know, which was the payment of that Money which you so kindly lent me: However to show my thankfulness to you for those favours, and my willingness to gratify so good a Friend, I have sent you by your Cousin all that Money which I own you, both interest and principal before the time, not knowing but that you may have a more sudden occasion for it, than you were willing to discover to me your Friend; pray cancel the Bond and send it back by your Cousin, and also send me word whether or no you shall have occasion for any more present Money, which if you have I will be sure to furnish you with it, being ever as ready and willing to serve you,  
As you have been to oblige me R. W.   

A Letter to persuade a Friend to marry.  
Loving Friend,  
IN considering your welfare, and taking a short view into your present concerns; I cannot but think that it is altogether inconvenient for you to lead a single Life any longer, for since you have betaken yourself to House-keeping and the ordering of a Family, I am sure that it would be very necessary for you to marry a Wife, whose care (if she perform her duty) will be always within doors, and see that those Servants you keep do not waste nor make lavish of any provision, or otherways, what Goods you shall commit to their charge in your absence when you are abroad about your earnest concerns; expecting all to be well and carefully minded at home: but alas you may be mistaken in a Housekeeper or a Servant-Maid, for they oftentimes do combine and have self-concern with the Apprentice, to the great detriment and almost ruin of several young Men like yourself, who have put confidence in them; this as the first and no small Argument, I bring to dissuade you from living single, and to persuade you to betake yourself to a Wise: The next reason is this which you must pardon, because it is not spoken particularly concerning you, neither does it exclude you; but it may be very properly attributed to any single Man which is a Housekeeper: Suppose then this, that a young Man as you are does at sometime or other meet with some of his good friends or former companions abroad as he is walking about his lawful occasion, and being glad to see each other, you cannot well part without drinking a glass or two of Wine together thereby to signify your mutual loves and friendship which you mutually do owe, and having sat a while in the Tavern one Bottle many times begets two or three, or may be more and still loath to part, till it oftentimes is seen that the Wine doth predominate over your reasons at that time and you stay late, being elevated with those charming liquors you at length return home, and having no body to entertain you there but your Servant-Maid, it may be in that humour (though not in the least inclined to it another time) you begin to be familiar with your Maid (and so familiar as is unseemly for me to name though you may guests my meaning) this Maid perchance though honest heretofore, yet considering that you are her Master and she but of a low degree or quality contrary to her natural custom, may submit herself and willingly condescend to what you shall earnestly desire to enjoy, which being granted you, on the morrow when 'tis too late, repent you of the Fact, and may perchance be brought to open shame quickly after for such your deed as you have committed; or else forced to marry her whom you have already strumpeted: this cautionally I advise you of, not that I know you in the least guilty, but I am sure a good Wife (of which sort there are many) would prevent all these miscarriages of youth, and be a great comfort to you both night and day, therefore pray take my counsel, and think ne'er the worse of him who cordially is  
Your real Friend, W. P.   

His Friend's Answer.  
Loving Friend,  
I Am apt to think you speak experimentally as concerning youthful vanities and frailties: However I must confess your advice is good, and I should be ungrateful if I should not return you hearty thanks for so good admonition, but yet I must also let you know that I am not guilty of those transgressions which you forewarn me of: for I seldom am long out of my Shop, but if I should, the Apprentice could not wrong me much, for I take a narrow inspection into all my concerns, that I should soon miss any particular parcel that should by any means be miscarried, and as for being overcome with Wine I think I never was beyond the bounds of reason, but were I never so much addicted to drinking, I should never be over-kind to my Maid; for to prevent that danger I keep one that is well stricken in years, and so deformed that she is a perfect Antidote against Lechery: However I shall not tie myself from Marriage, could I meet with a young Woman that was suitable and agreeable to my condition and temper, descended of honest parentage, and reputed to be a virtuous, civil and honest Virgin, and one that after Marriage would not defile my Bed, neither had she in her single condition stained her Virginity by yielding her body to be spotted with any lascivious companions, but had behaved herself in all her youthful days unspotted according to the strictest rules of modesty: with such a one if I could meet, I say it should be the first thing I undertook to marry with her, but truly there are so many that I find miscarry when they marry, that I am something fearful how I tie myself for term of life to that thing which for aught I know may be my perpetual ruin, but as you used to tell me that I must venture, for nothing venture nothing enjoy, I am therefore resolved e'er long to take your counsel and good example, who am  
Yours as my own R. L.   

A Letter complaining of such long silence in his Friend's writing no oftener to him.  
Loving Friend,  
WHen I consider the ability and strength of your fancy, together with the dexterity of your Pen in writing; as also the benefit and advantage I reap and receive in reading your learned and well composed Epistles; I can do no less but blame you for not writing oftener to your Friend, I am sure and very confident that it cannot be in the least burdensome to you to take Pen in hand, and write to me some few Lines that I may hear of your welfare; which would be very great joy and comfort to your faithful Friend, and a recreation to your ready Muse: I know not wherein I have offended you, or acted any unworthy action towards you that you should slack your hand from writing, but if you will let me know my fault, I will endeavour to make satisfaction for my misdemeanour; thus desiring to hear from you, I am.  
Yours in expectation W. N.   

The Answer.  
Dear Friend,  
YOu must pardon my long forced silence in Letters, for I have been sorrowfully employed another way, it hath pleased God to visit my poor Family with great and heavy sickness; insomuch that I have buried two of my children the Eldest and the Youngest, and my Wife now lies desperately sick of a Fever, whether she may escape or no I cannot tell, for she is very weak; you might imagine that some extraordinary business or other had befallen me, else I should not have been so long in silence from so good a Friend as yourself. I hope you will not question the continuation of my wont custom of writing to you, so soon as it shall please God to blow away those storms of afflictions that hang over our house thus long, and cause a Sunshine once again to appear, for be assured that I am  
Yours till Times hour glass is run out J. M.   

A cunning Letter sent to a crafty Friend to borrow Money.  
Kind Sir,  
Your obliging qualities have ever been so great and manifold to me, who have never merited the least favour from you, that your goodness makes me presume once more to beg a kindness of you; which is, that you would lend me ten pounds between this and Thursday next, and accept of my own Bond for your security but for three Month's time, and you shall then be sure to be repaid it with the interest as shall be then due, and my humble thanks shall ever require you with this friendly assurance, that if ever you should stand in need of the same kindness, though your demands should be ten times more that I shall be proud in obliging you on the same terms; your answer by this Bearer if without excuses will be my present satisfaction, and my study for the future shall be for a requital,  
Your faithful Friend to serve you R. N.   

The Answer.  
Kind Sir,  
I Am very sorry that I cannot oblige you according to your expectation, for at present I have not so much Money to spare by me, nor shall not have any such sum within the time as you have mentioned, you seldom could have asked me at such a time, for seldom it is that I am unprovided of so small a quantity, and if I had it you may assure yourself that I would make no denial of it to so good a Friend as you are and have been to me, but should be glad that I could oblige you in any thing whatsoever, therefore pray let me beg of you not to take it unkindly, fer it is my Nature and aught to be the free disposition of every generous Soul to communicate his assistance to his Friend in every respect to the utmost of his power, but these your present demands (laying aside all formal excises and flattering compliments) are beyond the reach of my capacity, however I will subscribe myself Sir  
Your assured and faithful Friend S. D.   

A Letter to his angry Sweetheart.  
My Love,  
YOur frowns have so eclipsed my wont comfort and consolation, that without the speedy Sunshine of your smiles my future hopes which I promised myself will be utterly blasted, you know you have my heart and all that ever I could call my own at your disposing; therefore let me beg of you to be kind before it be too late, least certainly you hear that I died through your neglect and cruelties, who am  
Your afflicted Lover N. B.   

Her short but loving Answer.  
Sir,  
I Fancy when you wrote to me last you were in a Dream, or else not throughly awake, for how can you task me with unkindness that have no pleasure but in your content and comfort; if you have undergone any sorrow by your own imagination I am very sorry for it, for I'll assure you my heart participates of all your troubles, your Love to me I mutually accept, giving you mine again with this assurance, that I am  
Yours without dissimulation, whilst S. G.   

A Letter upon the delay of a courtesy desired.  
Kind Sir,  
AMongst the rest of my Friends you have had no small share of my good esteem, therefore I thought you would have had greater care in preserving your promise, and not have dealt so disingenuously with me, who have been always so ready to serve you, pray let me desire you not to feed me any longer with fair words, but let performances speak your mind or frustrate my hopes by a flat denial.  
Your dissatisfied Friend, M. K.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
YOur Friendship I must confess hath been variously shown to me, for which I must give you abundance of thanks, pray call not my delays uncivilities, nor forgetfulness, for believe me Sir my promises which I made you shall be speedily performed according to your desire, and the best of my power; and instead of justifying myself, I beg your pardon for non-performance, hoping 'twil be granted by your worthy self.  
Yours D. F.   

A Letter of Counsel from a Father to his Son.  
Dear Child,  
I Have heard that you are given to Alchymistry, which is a great charge to many but profiteth few, employ your time so that you may not lose by the bargain: what a grief it is to want, I pray God you may never know; therefore eschew Prodigality which quickly makes a poor Man; I have sent you twenty pounds, I hope you will make good use of it, and when you need more send to me for it, after the Term the Vacation will call you into the Country, where knowing your Father's House you may make your own welcome, you must not from me expect a flattering welcome, nor take it unkindly that I forewarn you of what may prove to your prejudice, above all things serve God and keep a clear Conscience towards all Men: converse not with fools, for in so doing you will lose your time: beware of drunkenness, for it is a beastly humour: take heed of Knaves for they are much to be feared, all which my advice if you pursue, you may expect God's blessing, which is  
Your Father's Prayers H. D.   

The Son's dutiful Answer.  
Honoured Father,  
AS touching the study of Alchymistry I have heard much, but believe little: However I will not waste your Lands to make a new Metal; I know it is not long to the next Vacation, which being come, I will not be long from you, and if at my coming I find you well, that shall be my best welcome, as I will not flatter myself with your Love, so I cannot but joy in your kindness, whose careful counsel I will lock up in my heart as my best jewel: For to serve God is the duty of every Christian, and no longer let me live then in the care of that comfort; as for Fools they cannot understand me, and Knaves shall not trouble me; as for drunkenness never doubt me, for it is a thing most loathsome in my Nature; as for your Money I humbly thank you, and I hope to bestow it according to your good liking, thus with my prayers for your long life, health and happiness I remain  
Your dutiful Son till death, H. D.   

A merry Letter after the old Fashion sent to a Maid.  
AFter my Love remembered unto you, trusting in God that you are in good health as I was at this present writing, with my Father and my Mother, and my Brothers and Sisters, and Uncles and Aunts, and the rest of my good Friends thanks be to God for it. The cause of my writing to you at this time is, that I hear Joan since my coming from Weston, when you know what talk we had together there at the sign of the Horns, and how you did give me your hand and swear that you would not forsake me for all the World, and how you made me buy you a Ring and a Heart that cost me two and twenty pence, and I left them with you, and you gave me a Napkin to wear in my Hat and a small Feather, I thank you, which I will wear to my dying day, and I marvel if it be true as I hear, that you have altered your mind, and are made sure to my Neighbour Pigsay's Son. Truly Joan you do not well in so doing and God will plague you for it: and I hope I shall live well enough if I never have you; for there are more Maids in the World besides you Joan, and truly I count myself worth the whistling after, I am sure there are some young Maids about us will except of me, and be glad to leap at me to have such Honey kisses Joan as I used to give you; therefore be not so high and so proud Joan and so scornful, for if you will have none of me, I will have none of you, but will be as stout and as coy as any handsome Maid in England; for you know my old Grandsire has left my Father good House and Land, and my Father will give it to me his own Son I am sure, and therefore praying you to write me your Answer by this Bearer my friend, touching the truth of all how it stands with you, I commit you to God:  
From Willow-green, May 11. 1675. J.S.   

Jones Answer.  
INdeed sweet John I did not expect such a Letter from your hands, I would have you to know I scorn it: have I got my Fathers and Mothers ill will for you to be so used at your hands? I perceive and if you be so jealous already you would be somewhat another day, I am glad I find you that you can believe any thing of me, but it is no matter; I care not, send me my Napkin and you shall have your Ring and your Heart, for I can have enough if I never see you more, for there are more Bachelors than John, and my penny is as good silver as yours, and seeing you are so stout, even put up your Pipes, for I will have no more to do with you; and so unsaying all that ever hath been said betwixt us, pray make your choice where you list, for I know where to be beloved and so farewell.  
J. R.   

A Letter from a Father to a Son at the university.  
Dear Son,  
I Am sorry to tell thee that I hear thy diligence doth not answer my desire, and I would gladly wish it otherwise, but I hope a kind admonition will suffice to work a on good Nature, and therefore will rather hope the best then doubt the contrary: and in the love of a Father let me entreat thee to avoid the company of a lewd fellow, as rather an enemy than a Friend. The Feminine Sex are dangerous to affect, for as they will be a loss of time, so with hindrance of study they will produce expense: The exercise of thy body I admit for thy health, but let thy Love be in thy Learning, else wilt thou never be a good Scholar, for desire and delight are the best Masters both of Art and Knowledge, whilst virtuous Reason makes Understanding gracious: Therefore not out of the bitter humour of displeasure, but the careful Nature of affection I writ unto thee for thy own good, and as nothing can joy the heart of a Father more than the obedience of a loving child, so can there nothing be more grievous than the stubborn spirit of an ungracious Son; I speak this to thee knowing thy years and understanding able to digest the consideration of my desire, which in sum is my joy in thy good. For let me tell thee, my Estate thou knowest, and how much I have strained my credit for thy advancement; to which Learning being a speedy and an assured good means, I would be glad to see my comfort in thy profit, in such fruits of thy study as with the blessing of God may hasten thy preferment; therefore be industrious and diligent for thy own benefit, and thou shalt not want a Father's encouragement to the very utmost of his ability; thus praying to God for thee, whom I beseech daily to bless thee, with my hearts love to the Lord's blessing I leave thee; who am  
Thy loving Father S. D.   

The Son's Answer.  
Loving Father,  
AFter the bands of humble duty, my good Father I have received your most kind and loving Letter; in which how much joy I have received I cannot express, fearing rather your sharp rebuke then loving admonition; but God himself who can and doth work more in some Natures with a kind chiding then in others with may stripes. I know you are not ignorant of the inclination of youth, and therefore thus kindly touch the hurt of inheedfulness, for which how much I do humbly thank you I hope the care of your counsel in time shall pleasingly tell you, therefore for what ill you have heard grieve not, and of the good you may hear doubt not but believe me; for I will not abuse your trust whatever vanity soever I have seemed to effect: My Book hath been the Mistress of my Love in which how much I will labour, and from which what profit. I will gather your hope shall see in the effect of God's blessing, without the which how dangerous are many studies to the understandings of ungracious Spirits, I would it were known in any, and I pray God that none may know it in me. I My preferment I leave to God's pleasure who best knows how to dispose of his Servants, and for your contentment that it may be in my obedience. Your health as the world's happiness I pray for; mine own moderate exercise with abstinence from excess, doth with God's blessing hold me in good state: and for the Feminine Sex (though I would be no Hypocrite) I had rather read of then be acquainted with them; for I allow of your opinion touching them: thus hoping erelong that you will receive as much content of my courses as you have ever doubted the contrary; in the duty of my humble Love I take my leave for this time, but rest always.  
Your dutiful Son S. D.   

A Daughter's Letter to a Mother.  
Honoured Mother,  
I Mast acknowledge in all duty that your came of me hath been so great, that my prayers shall ever petition Heaven for your long life and happiness; and will always move in obedience to your commands, I have no other ways to express my filial duty and love; but by conforming myself in all things to your commands, and I shall think all the endeavours of my life well bestowed to gain your blessing and love which I have hitherto enjoyed let me beseech therefore and beg of you that there may be a continuation of your kind love and good affection towards me, and I will endeavour all the days of my life more and more continually to engratiate myself into your favour, whilst I am  
Your obedient and datiful Daughter. J. P.   

The Mother's kind Answer.  
My dear Child,  
I Received thy kind and dutiful Letter which was no small comfort to me, pray God continue thy duty and obedience to thy Loving Mother, and if thou dost fear him I am sure be will incline thy heart to Wisdom, which is to fear the Lord and to honour thy Parents with humble reverence, and will be the only way to prolong thy days on Earth, and after Death hath seized upon thy body and sent thee to the Grave, yet thy name shall live after Death to Immortality; and all that ever knew thee shall lament thy loss after death: saying, thou livedest and didst die a good Woman and a good Christian, which will be a comfort to thy Friends that hear it, and an Eternal joy and consolation to thyself in the World to come; thus to the protection of him that made thee I recommand thee who am  
Thy loving Mother J. P.   

A Letter of comfort to a Friend in Adversity.  
Sir,  
WEakness is presently discomfited when any calamity doth befall them, but I doubt not but you are strong enough to oppose your unfortunate sorrows, and to make such good use of them, that they shall rather confirm then discourage you in the way of virtue; I know you can look upon Adversity with an eye of consideration, discerning therein the hand of Providence; look up then, and see from whence all troubles do arise, there is a blessing annexed to them, if they be suffered with patience; your virtue that stands inward may now be made apparent to the World in bearing your sorrow, misery, or any worldly affliction, which refine good Men to a greater perfection; I know you need not my counsel being strong in yourself, yet pardon my love, my compassion, and my counsel, and accept them from  
Yours bound to serve you N. C.   

The Answer.  
Kind Sir,  
LIke as the Rain doth fall from a wand'ring Traveller when he comes dropping in, even so at the receipt of your kind and cordial Letter I felt my sorrows waste and vanish from me, being presently refreshed by your good counsel, and all my sorrow is in this my adversity that I have nothing to requite your love withal but the poor and slender payment of thanks. It is common with others whom we reckon in the number of Friends, to fall off when they see their Friend is fallen into any calamity, but such are no more to be accounted of then the flattering shadow that walks before us in the Sunshine, whilst your Love being built on the constant foundation of your goodness cannot be shaken with the unfortunate chances of your Friend; in all Estates your Love doth know no change, and this in the midst of my troubles shall bring me store of assured comfort, that I am blest with a Friend so faithful unto him, who is  
Your friend in the same fidelity C. B.   

A Letter sent to a Friend persuading him that he was a Cuckold.  
Honest Charles,  
THou knowest I love thee well and ever have done since our first acquaintance: In troth I am sorry that I must now write to thee about such news as I believe will be unwelcome to thee, which to be short and plain I hear tkou art a Cuckold, neither do I ground my belief upon the vulgar report of others that say thy Wife is a Whore, but I have seen so much by her own self that thou must needs be a Cuckold, by those actions which I have observed by her in our Market Town, she not thinking me to be so near her: watch her a little more narrowly for the future and I believe thou wilt soon be satisfied of the truth of this matter. I do not write this to make thee jealous without cause, but because I would not have thee rock the Cradle when another Man got the Bastard; this is all from  
Thy real Friend H. E.   

The Answer.  
Honest Harry,  
I Must confess that thou tellest me strange News, neither is it in the least welcome to me; yet as I would not be too credulous in believing any thing that may touch or slain the honour and reputation of my Wife, who has been my Bedfellow thus long, so in like manner I would not be blinded with fair speeches to believe her honest that is a notorious Strumpet: for as thou sayest Harry by that means, I may indeed Father the spurious issue of unknown Progenitors; yet however I will not be jealous before I find a cause, and when I have found a cause I will not be jealous long after, for I will watch her as warily as ever a Cat watched a Mouse, that she shall not stir but I will Incognito attend her, and then I shall quickly perceive how she behaves herself abroad, she not mistrusting of my suspicion will not proceed so cunningly as otherwise she might, but will continue in her wont course without all doubt; which if it should be in the ways of wickedness (as God forbidden it should) I should be very sorry, and would soon separate myself from her; and if I am a Cuckold I am certain Harry you know, and are acquainted with several others as may shake hands with me. You know 'tis said that Cuckolds are Christians; and truly I am apt to think that it is many an honest Man's lot: and also many a Knave's deserved Fortune to be Cuckolded by his own Wife at home, at that very instant of time that he is Cuckolding his Neighbour abroad. As for my part Harry if it be so it shall not much trouble me, but I am resolved to know the truth on't; for I know thy honest love and kindness to me is such, that thou wouldst not give me any disturbance without some grounds, and for thy love I give thee hearty thanks, who am  
Thine to my power, C. D.   

A Fantastic Letter to a Friend to try both his Wit and patience.  
Sir,  
I Would be glad to see you for fear of losing my Eyesight, but for hearing of you, except it be to preserve me from deafness, I assure you it never troubles me: for when I know no good to expect from you, I wonder what I should do with you; except to learn ignorance out of idleness, or to make work to no purpose: yet for old acquaintance knowing this bearer coming near you, I thought it good to tell you how well I love you: yet lest you should misconstrue my meaning, let me assure you that he which doth truly know you will accordingly esteem you; but if you know yourself it will be the better for you, I am no Schoolmaster and therefore will read you no precepts, but would wish you to observe times progress, and to hold a friend as a Jewel and a Fool as loss of time, which if you take notice of it will be the better for you:  
Your downright Friend J. L.   

The Answer.  
INdeed Mr. Coxcomb you have made a very learned Epistle, only it relishes of a little too much Maggot which worked so strongly and strangely in your lunatic Brain, that I find the effects of her labouring and toiling thus long there to be prodigious; insomuch that she has caused you to write a monstrous piece of nonsense, which you yourself cannot understand, and there is also so much of fool into the bargaen, that had I not known that you were living, I should have blest myself to think from whence it should all come; I verily believe that thou art no Schoolmaster for thou never learnedest beyond the Testament, and whereas thou advisest me to have a care of keeping company with Fools, I shall take thy counsel in that and be sure to avoid thy company, for I am sure in conversing with thee, I shall certainly lose time, therefore I bid thee farewell;  
R. C.   

A conceited Letter from a Country Schoolmaster, who thought himself to be a great Schoolar.  
Sir,  
BY all the Nouns and Pronouns in the eight parts of Speech, if you do not send me up the eight pounds which you own me for your young Son Mr. Quibus his feeding at my Table, and tumbling in my Sheep's Featherbed with a horum harum horum, I'll bring you before 'em, where Amo amas amavi, if you do not pay me I am sure they will not save ye, therefore I say Cave, for Per deum, they shall have ye; for the Constable with his Fustis, shall take you before Sir Justice. Sir I do not love to flatter ye nor yet to use many words, for you may remember that Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur, which for fear you should not understand I English it thus, That Man is wise who speaketh few things or words; I have done what I can for your Juvenis or young Man which you please to call him, therefore pray be civil to me your Ludi-Magister or Schoolmaster,  
Radolphus Ignosus.   

The Gentleman's Answer.  
Good Mr. Ignosus,  
BE not so fiery for your Money, for I think your Quarter is not out till to morrow at night; However rather than you should be angry and throw your Latin about after this manner; I'll hereafter be sure to pay you a week before hand, and I'll assure you that you shall never have occasion to have me before a Justice for my Money that shall at any time be due to you from me for my Son's board: However since I understand by you that he lies upon a Sheep's Feather bed, which may be Englished a flock-bed; let me desire you for the future to let him lie upon a Goose's or a Hen's Featherbed: and instead of Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur, I will have it Vir loquitur qui pauca sapit, which I English thus, the Man speaketh that understands but little; but I do not mean you Sir, therefore I hope you will not be angry with him who is  
Your loving Friend E. Quibus.   

A cautional Letter from a Husband to his young Wife in the Country.  
Loving Wife,  
NOtwithstanding the great distance that is at present betwixt our habitations, yet the inward thoughts of my heart and mind are continually with you; I desire that you may be careful of your honour and reputation, for that once lost which we call our good name, cannot easily be repaired again; I hope you are virtuous and so guarded with Chastity, that you are always armed against all such temptations as may be offered to a young Woman as you are, especially having such opportunities as you have at present: However if you do but call to mind, first how great an offence it is to God Almighty to adulterate and defile yourself: it being a breach of the Commandment; and secondly, the great and abominable wrong you do your Husband by such transgressions: I am sure upon these considerations well weighed, you will be careful of committing any such notorious crimes; withal assuring yourself that those which at any time do yield and prostrate themselves illegally to their lustful desires, though they do it never so privately, even when they may think themselves secure enough being it may be some hundreds of miles from their honest Husbands, who are careful all their life to maintain them handsomely, and see that they want for nothing; those I say that do offend in such a manner though never so obscurely, yet these Actions like those of Murder will at one time or other be discovered and made known; Fame flies with nimble wing and swiftly spreads abroad the evil Actions of every bold offender, the very birds will whistle forth the injuries the Wife commits against her honest Husband; this my dear love I writ not that I am jealous, but only as a caution for thee to take notice of, now thou art so far from me, therefore prithee be not angry with him who is  
Thy truly loving Husband till death A. B.   

Her Answer.  
Sweetheart,  
I Received a Letter with your Name to it, and directed to me; but sure if it came from you it was never intended for me, but for some other Woman, but yet not satisfied that you could make such a mistake; I upon a second consideration do fear that you are fell distracted: for surely had you that natural since now, that you had when I departed from you; the Letter you sent would not have been directed to me but to some Mistress or small Harlot of yours, whose fidelity you so much doubted and feared that she had to do with more Cullies besides yourself; but to come a little closer to the business, I partly smell out your design when you writ that Letter, you are jealous of me though without cause, yet fain would hid your jealousy under the pretence of giving me good counsel; Introth Husband you know I am young, but not so much a Child but I can perceive what you aim at: Alas poor Man! what does your head ache before you have any occasion for it? I am sorry for your mistake; and truly now you have put me in the mind how brave au opportunity I have here in the Country to make you a Cuckold, I am like enough to take notice of it so far as to make the best use of my time and not to let it, slip, for I can judge no less but that you have got some homely Doxy or other to supply my place during my absence, which makes you cry out Whore first; but 'tis no matter for that now I think on't Husband I will be honest pray think so, I would fain have you think so, and then it will be the better for my design: I mean honestly indeed I do Husband, therefore pray believe her who is  
Your virtuous Wife J. B.   

A Letter to invite a Friend to a Wedding.  
Honest Ned,  
MY Sweetheart and I have just now considered on't, and have concluded together to make a jovial Wedding, and in troth I am a little in haste too I must confess, and know not well how to stay any longer; for I have such pretty thoughts come into my mind concerning the Wedding-night, and then Ned; and concerning the Sack-posset and then Ned; and when the Candle is taken away and then Ned; but what then is to be done I do but guests Ned: but I vow and swear and will take my Oath on't, that I long till that time is come that I may know Ned; and i'faith old Soul to make up our merry company I invite thee to come and see us joined together next Saturday, and thou shalt be as welcome as any Man in England, I would have it on Saturday Ned, because we may lie in Bed all day on Sunday, and that's all at present Ned but the more is to come.  
R. H.   

The Answer.  
Honest Robin,  
I Perceive by your short Epistle, that you now think yourself to be Man good enough to venture on a Woman, and I am glad to hear that you have got one to your mind; Faith Bob in my mind thou art much to be commended that thou dost not make a foolish long and tedions wooing, for that signifies nothing; when they have done all they must take one another for better and for worse, as the Parson says; and if it must be so it must, then high for a Boy or a Girl the very first night: for I perceive Bob that thou art a little tickled with the thoughts of it already, by my Mack old Boy thou needest not question my coming; for I am resolved to be there, and will pick me up a Spouse of my own if I can, if not I protest and swear I'll make use of any one that belongs to some body else and so much for that  
Thine E. P.   

A Letter of Farewell sent to a Friend, from one that is going a long Journey.  
Kind Sir,  
SInce for several years we have been convenant together, and have held a great correspondency together in way of friendship and also business; I could not leave my Native Country and betake myself to travel without letting you know of my departure Sir, which will be the next opportunity I can have for transporting myself and Family into the East- Indieses, and I am informed that we may have a conveniency of Shipping within this Month; within which time if I may be so happy as to see you in Town I shall take it as a great favour, if not Sir I humbly recommend this to your hands, which will let you know that I give you a thousand thanks for all kind courtesies which I have received from you, and if it please God that I return again into England I will be sure to come and wait on you myself; who am  
Yours in all places whilst G. R.   

The Answer.  
Dear Sir,  
Your Letter at first sight did very much surprise me, to think that I so suddenly should lose so good a Friend, but afterwards considering that your Wisdom would prompt you to nothing but what shall be to your advantage and preferment, I thought I had no reason to envy at your happiness or to advise you to the contrary; I am very sorry that I cannot personally appear before you to make an humble acknowledgement how much I am your Debtor, for all those kind favour; which I have received from you time after time; I doubt I cannot get so much leisure from my urgent affairs in the Country, as to come and wait upon you before your departure; however Sir I shall beg of God for your safe passage through Neptune's raging Waves, and that in safety you may again return, which if I live to see, I'll strive to be the first that shall come and kiss your hand, who am Sir,  
Yours where ever I am N. B.   

How to begin and end Letters with new Compliments.  
Sir, BEing sensible of all those former favours wherewith you have obliged me, I could do no less but make an humble acknowledgement for those unmerited kindnesses which you have been pleased to confer upon me.  
Sir, Since the last time I saw you, abundance of Worldly sorrows have surrounded me; insomuch that I have been uncapable of serving my Friends of whom I reckon you the chief.  
Sir, What ever Tongue can express or Heart can wish of the welfare of any real and beloved Friend, I wish and desire may always attend you, but setting aside all ceremonious compliments, these may give you to understand, etc.  
Sir, I know your discretion to be so great, and your Love so unfeigned that you will not misconstrue any mistake that I shall make in this Letter: therefore I shall not be so curious as at other times I ought to be when I writ to those that are more critical, etc.  
Sir, In considering your manifold obligations wherewith you have obliged me, it puts me in mind how much I am your Debtor, and how urable I am at present to make you satisfaction, thanks is too mean a present for so much worthiness, yet at present Sir may serve to let you know that I am not ungrateful, etc.  
Sir, If I knew which way to gratify you for all those favours which you have accumulated upon my undeserts, I would not all this while have remained your Debtor, etc.  
Sir, After a recommendation of my good wishes, and my hearty prayers for your good health and preservation, these may certify you that, etc.  
Madam, Your Ladyship I hope need not question my faithfulness in serving you, but shall ever account it the greatest honour that can be conferred upon me to be reckoned amongst the number of your Servants, and all my comfort will be in being obedient to your commands, though at present I must confess, etc.  
Madam, If loving you be reckoned and accounted a crime, than I am certain that I am the greatest criminal in the whole World, yet am I also sure that the wretch that loves you not must be a Devil, etc.  
Madam, In the fresh remembrance of those pleasant charms I gained from your resplendent eyes at our last meeting, I take bold courage to salute your ears with these presumptuous words, that I am your Lover, etc.  
Sir, Since our last meeting I very well can remember your unworthiness at that time, pray forbear to say you are my Lover, for I utterly disown your Suit; your rudeness would have blunted the edge of my affection if I ever had any for you, but that is more than you ever knew, etc.  
Madam, The humble adorer of your excellent beauty hath sent these submissive Lines to kiss your fair hands, which kindness if you smiling please to grant, the Author of them will presume e'er long to wait upon you, and with bended knees prostrate himself before so much Divinity, etc.  
Sir, Vain words will not advance you to your aim, for 'tis not flatteries that will avail or work your ends upon her that has past the Age of twenty; Children may be deluded with fair speeches, but riper years do look for more substantial performances: therefore pray desist, etc.  
Madam, A World of Joys and comfort flows from every word I ever heard you speak; from every smiling look you ever cast upon me; Madam, look on and speak again, making your slave more happy than all others.  
Sweetheart, I humbly thank you for your last kindness when I was at your house, and if ever I live to see you again I hope I shall make you part of amends, etc.  
Kind Sir, You need not have given yourself the trouble to have writ me those thanks for those small civilities which you received at our house; all I can say to you is that you were welcome, and if you are pleased to think yourself so, pray let us have your company again, etc.  
Honest Will, Faith you know I love you, and that is better than all the compliments in the World; downright dealing is most acceptable amongst Friends, for flatteries are fit for nothing but to please Women and Children, etc.  
Sir, With humble reverence I submit myself to your discretion, not doubting but your goodness will order my concerns to the best advantage, being more capable of discerning what may stand for my future benefit then any other person living; therefore I wholly condescend to what you shall determine in this matter, etc.  
Sir, Your Wisdom has confounded my second thoughts, therefore I refer myself to your better judgement, and I'll assure you that on my part there shall no more disturbances arise that may in any ways be prejudicial to our mutual society hereafter, etc.  
Sir, You may command me upon all accounts to serve you, being always ready to communicate my assistance to a person so much deserving as yourself; therefore writ but your Will and Pleasure and it shall be done, etc.  
Sir, Wit in other Men seems to be but a florid way of speaking to set forth a bad action with the greater lustre, but in you it shows itself with so much gravity that every word which flows from you, appears to me to be an Oracle, etc.  
Madam, Let me beseech you not to condole the loss of your blasted beauty, since that your better ornament does still remain inviolable; I mean your virtue which is a precious Jewel lodged in your mind, which time deciphering wrinkles cannot wrong; but it will abide to perpetuity, etc.  
Sir, I must confess the gay and glorious blossom has its first time which lasts not long but withers and decays, and then we expect the more substantial fruit to follow. Youth and Beauty may flourish for a while, but Age calls out for action to adorn the Mind and Soul of every Man and Woman etc.  
Sir, When first I heard of those great disasters which have lately befallen you, I equally shared in your misfortunes; but since 'tis gone and passed, let me desire you instead of grief and mourning to accept my consolation, etc.  
Sir, Every thing underneath the glorious Sun at one time or other must undergo and feel the sense of sorrow; some have a larger portion than the rest, and none can truly say they live in quiet, but those that do enjoy a contented mind, etc.  
Sir, Suppose I angry was at your abuse: 'twas not only that you were injurious to me but that I might thereby let you see your own folly, which being known I hope you will amend, etc.  
Madam, Let me beg of you to be free and not conceal the Love you bear my friend any longer: for if Love have not its natural course and vent, like to the flames of fire, which being suppressed, may breathe and smother undiscovered for a time, but when it once breaks forth it burns more fiercer, etc.  
Madam, You know your powerful charms have no resistance, then be not cruel when none dares contend but when you find an opposition to your will; then use what severity shall best become your Sex, etc.  
Madam, Nature has curiously framed your outward shape beyond the parallel of your fellow creatures; then do not strive to slain what she hath made by any immodest and unseemly Action, you know how unkind you have been, etc.  
Madam, You have honoured me so far that it is beyond all expression, my obedience to your will shall be my present acknowledgement; and for the future I will be sure to hearken to your command.  
Sir, You have tied me so strong in the bonds of true affection that they are infringeable to envy itself; though I know I have several enemies abroad in this malicious World, that would be glad to cause a separation of our friendship but it is beyond their power. I now must tell you Sir, etc.  
Sir, Let me beg of you once more to make us happy with your good company at London, where you shall find your welcome by your freedom, and we shall know your acceptance by your continuance, etc.  
Sir, Your Letter I received and am glad to hear of your welfare; as touching the business which you have commanded me to effect, it shall be done according to your content; therefore rest yourself satisfied with my reality, etc.  
Sir, Few words amongst friends are best, as for what you have heard, keep to yourself, for it is very dangerous to be a meddler in those cases; I have other business to acquaint you with, etc.  
Sir, My humble service I present to you and your Bedfellow, wishing you true joy, long life and health in this World, and everlasting joys in the World to come, we are all well at present I bless God, I would desire you to send, etc.  
Sweet Sir, I admire that I have never seen you all this while, I hope my looks did not fright you when you were last at our house, if some of your quality had but half the invitation as I have given you, I should have seen them often in this time; but 'tis no matter, etc.  
Ah Madam! Impute not my so long absence to be any neglect of mine, for had I been at my own disposing I would scarcely have been ever from you; but sickness, etc.  
Madam, If Love be blind as some Men say he is, I wonder how he come to hit my heart so right, he has wounded me and 'twas in darkness too, and so that none but you alone can cure, etc.  
Sir, I wonder why so many young Men talk of Cupid and his Feathered Darts that wounds their breasts and yet they know not when. In my opinion they are much mistaken, for Love proceeds at first from each others eyes; and after that want of enjoyment of a beauty once seen may cause a kind of troublesome passion to arise, and this is my belief concerning Love.  
Sir, Let me desire you as you love yourself to fly from this infected place, where nothing but Murders and Rapes are daily threatened, I heard but the other day, etc.  
Sir, You may imagine that I love you, else I should not have carried myself in such a familiar manner as I did last night to you who were so much a stranger to me, perhaps you may think me wanton but, etc.  
Sir, Let me beg of you not to remember my past faults, but forget an I forgive them all, burying them in oblivion, and for the future I will be more careful of offending, etc.  
Sir, In anger I writ to you not to trouble yourself with my concerns, but mind your own business; I believe you will find enough to do at home, it may be I may find you some employment shortly if you have none of your own, in the mean time pray let me advise you to bridle your Tongue, or else, etc.  
Sir, Let me desire you not to regard the vulgar report of the common sort of people, for they will say any thing: Neither do they regard who it is they wrong, exclaiming against any person behind his back whom just before they applauded before his Face, and this is their common course, etc.  
Life of my Soul, Let not my absence provoke thee so far as to be jealous of my inconstancy for thus much assure thyself, that where ever I am my heart is with thee, and nothing but death shall alter my resolutions, which are to make thee my Wife, etc.   

Supplements, with choice phrases and and sentences to be used in the middle of Letters upon all occasions.  
WHat else may be added to our good success In proceed of this Nature, I leave to your wiser judgement to consider on.  
After Madam I have said all I can say, I must leave it to your goodness to muke a good and favourable construction upon my honest intentions.  
I know Sir nothing can be more suitable to my present condition then your good advice, which I will certainly be guided by; knowing that what ever you admonish me to act or do, must on necessity be for my present and future advantage.  
You may remember Madam that at our last meeting, you promised me that I should have a second happiness, by meeting you next Monday morning where we met before.  
Let not delays frustrate your design, for you know they often prove dangerous, therefore let me advise you to strike whilst the Iron ●s hot.  
Consult with your Parents first Sir, and get their good wills, and you shall ever find me to be according to my promise.  
Expect no flatteries from your public enemy, for your deserts deserve no favour but a just revenge shall certainly be your portion.  
What I have said is cordial and you may believe it and count me your Friend in telling you the truth of this matter, whose effects without your care will prove I doubt very dangerous.  
Never doubt nor fear but first of all make Trial; experience is the best Mistress; I doubt not but that she will be kind, and that all things may succeed according to your desire.  
Thousands you know have miscarried for want of making a quick pursuit in such concerns as yours are; you know that a place of good preferment is soon catcht up.  
Consult with reason first, and be not overrash in your attempts, lest you precipitate your whole design.  
Love me then as you have begun in spite of all their surious anger, you know my constancy and dear affections will never alter but remain for ever firm.  
I doubt not but you are disposed to Melancholy, therefore let me advise you to leave that lonesome place, and betake yourself to the City; where you will find diversity of subjects that will expose you to a harmless mirth, and innocent Recreation.  
Exclaim not Madam against your sole admirer, one that adores your very name like a sacred deity; one that hath Atlas' strength to bear and undergo the greatest burdens that affliction or torment can lay upon him for your sweet sake.  
I grant your sure Sir if your love be true, but first you must give me leave to make trial of your constancy.  
I must confess that many have been beguiled by smooth tongues and flattering speeches, but mine you have no reason to mistrust.  
Consent not Daughter to their false delusions, for now a days not one Gallant amongst ten is to be believed; let your love be grounded on what I shall think reason, then will you live a happy life hereafter.  
My Father's good will, Sir, you first must ask before I shall make myself any surer to you, yet this I will tell you, if what you demand be according to his good liking, I can satisfy you, that I sandy you above any other Man.  
That Song you sung so ravished all my senses last night, that I shall not think myself happy till once again I hear it from your mouth.  
Then blest be that hour that first I made the motion, since according to my desire you have granted my request; for I am obliged in duty Madam to make a more than verbal acknowledgement.  
Your business Sir I have carefully minded, which succeeds according to your wish, the Man you told me was your chiefest witness I met in Town, and have secured him till the Trial shall be, and according to his evidence I question not but that you in your suit will prove victorious.  
I had sooner been with you, Sir, had not my Horse tired by the way; insomuch that I was forced to lie still two whole days, because he was not able to perform the Journey.  
Your Letters of advice, Sir, came too late, for I had then dispatched the business before their arrival; however if I can serve you in the like nature I shall gladly be commanded by you.  
No more your aged Father's counsel disrespect, lest that I count it wilful disobedience, what I advise you to is for your own advantage, as yet you know the power is in my hands to make you happy or for ever miserable.  
I hope you cannot justly task me, Sir, with disobedience, for rather than I would prove undutiful to so good a Father, I would make choice of my sharp pointed Sword to be my fatal Executioner.  
I know your clemency and well disposed mind is apt to forgive my faults, than I can have the confidence to ask your pardon; pray Sir, be therefore satisfied in my protestations that I not only love, but also honour you.  
I shall endeavour so to use my time to the best advantage of my future good, that you my aged Parents may have joy and comfort at all times when ever you see my face.  
Learning I know is a most precious Jewel, not to be obtained without a careful study and industry; my diligence shall therefore be to the utmost of my power to acquire to myself so rich a gem which is of that great value.  
You know that none shall ever reap the profit of your Learning but yourself, therefore my child seek it and thou shalt have it.  
I am glad to hear that you are merry, for it is a sign that you are in health, but let me advise you Child, to have a care, that Vanity take not up too much Room in your mind and heart, supplying that place which should contain profounder knowledge, stealing away your thoughts from following better things.  
I always, Sir, do consult with reason in my affairs before I pitch upon any design; therefore after I have had some small time to deliberate my thoughts I shall be ready and willing to give you my opinion and best judgement in this matter.  
Love is a thing that I never yet studied, therefore you tell me strange news about it; but I will consider on't, and if I find I can love any Man it shall be you as soon as any body I know of.  
But since our Parents angry are and will not give their consents that we should marry together, I am resolved if you will agree to appoint a time, when privately we may make ourselves happy though against their wills.  
'Tis true I love, and that you know full well, but willingly would have our Friend's good will, yet since you are resolved to take me at a venture, name but the time and I will surely meet you, for I had rather offend all my friends, then in the least to prove unkind or fickle to thee my dearest Love and only joy.  
Admire not that I appear to be somewhat strange to your propositions, for I know that you have ever been unconstant; therefore I shall be careful how I settle my affections on a sudden.  
Stoop not so low as once to condescend to act such folly, for ruin will attend all those that without consideration match themselves to such extravagancy.  
I hearty could wish the time were come that both our hearts and hands might be united, I willingly would run a lawful course, yet hardly can endure to stay so long; why should I be delayed from that sweet enjoyment which every night I dream on without redress, 'tis real pleasure that I want my dear.   

Conclusions and end of Letters of all sorts, and upon all occasions.  
THus do I take my leave and submit myself to your Lordship's pleasure who am, The humblest of your Scrvitors A. B.  
I never thought myself more happy, then when I was busy in prosecuting your Worship's just commands, therefore let me beg of you to harbour no ill opinion of him; who is The only admirer of your Worship's virtues B. C.  
Thus, honoured Sir, do I commit myself to your just censure, knowing that you will be favourable to Your distressed Servant C. D.  
Much might be added worthy Sir upon this same business; but time will not give me leave any longer to insist thereon; I therefore at this time shall conclude, and only acknowledge that I am and ever will be to my death, Your faithful Friend and most humble Servant D. E.  
But lest I should seem troublesome in being too tedious in this my Letter; I shall only add this to my former acknowledgements, that I am Your most obliged and most faithful Servant E. F.  
Consider well on what I have writ you word of, and meditate on it at your leisure; which is all from Your affectionate Father F. G.  
What ever you have writ to me shall so deeply be lodged in my breast, that nothing but death shall take it from thence, which I hope will be a satisfaction to you, from Sir. Your dutiful Son G. H.  
My dearest-Soul, blame me not for my suspicion and jealousy of thy unconstancy, but rather pardon it, for it proceeds from the abundance of love of him who is The only adorer of thy beauty H. I.  
And if your suspicion Sir be grounded out of your own imagination and all without cause, I shall not desire that you should adore me, but employ your time in learning to be wiser, and that is all from her who is Yours more than you deserve I. K.  
But to sum up all compliments in one Line, I am Sir Yours till death, in death, and after death K. L.  
Now since your folly I have pretty well discovered, I think it is time to leave off at this time, only telling you that I am Your Friend more than you are your own L. M.  
Therefore Sir let me desire you not to question my fidelity in this concern, but rely wholly upon Your most faithful Friend M. N.  
Ah Madam what shall I say more that might move you to compassion, a thousand Sheets of Paper would be too little to contain the full description of my sorrows, which night and day I do undergo for want of the enjoyment of your Love; 'tis nothing else I ask dear Madam but one smile from your sweet self, which if you would but grant it would revive Your languishing and disconsolate Lover N. O.  
That which you ask dear Sir I out of pity grant, for it never shall be said that I should so disturb so likely and so hopeful a Gentleman as yourself, in denying him so small a request, when next you please to see me again, I'll meet you with a smile, and if that won't do I'll smile again, and so continue till you shall be satisfied, than I hope you will be pleased with her who is Your compassionate and most loving Friend M. P.  
And Joan I now have only this to tell thee that in good truth I love thee dearly who am called by the name of Robin Hog.  
And that I may end my Letter just as you have done Robin, I must tell you that I love you as well as you love me which I had almost forgot, but I think such good words do never come too late; this is all from her who is thine, and honestly known by my proper name being my Mother's name who was born before me Joan Sow.   

Superscriptions for Letters, suitable for all Degrees and Qualities of Men and Women.  
TO the most High and Mighty Monarch, His sacred Majesty of Great Britain.  
Or thus,  
To the most Gracious and Victorious Monarch, Caesar Augustus. Salutem.  

Nobility.  
To the most Illustrious Prince.  
To his Royal Highness James Duke of York.   

But to other Dukes thus,  
To the most Renowned Duke.  
To the Right Honourable Earl of, etc.  
To the Honourable Lord.   

Gentry.  
To the Right Worshipful R. T. Knight Baronet.  
To the Worshipful R. T. Knight.  
To the Worshipful Esquire.  
To the most Impartial and upright Judges.  
To the most wise and most discreet Statesman.  
To the most pious, most grave, and most religious Clergyman.   

To Professors of Liberal Arts and Sciences.  
To the most Eloquent and most florid Rhetorician.  
To the most Skilful, most Learned, and approved Physician.  
To the most crafty and most subtle Logician.   

To Poets thus.  
To the Muse's best adorers.  
Or thus. To the Laureated Society.   

To Lawyers thus.  
To the most skilful and most Impartial Friend, etc.  
To the most skilful and most airy Musician.  
To his worthy and noble, and highly esteemed Patron.   

To Kindred and Relations.  
To his Honoured and Well-beloved Father H. P.  
To his dear and tender Mother.  
To his most affectionate Brother or Sister.  
To his dearly beloved Wise.  
To her dearly beloved Husband.  
To his loving Uncle.  
To the honourable Colonel.  
To the courageous and most valiant Captain.   

To Lovers.  
To the Life of my Soul Mrs. A. B.  
To the Mistress of my best thoughts E. C.  
To the fair hands of the Honoured Lady.  
To the fair hands of the Honoured Lady, Madam R. S.  
To the fullness of my true contentment, Mistress S. L.  
To the hope of my Fortune's Mrs. J. P.  
To my best choice Mrs. P. P.  
To the only joy of my heart Mrs. D. D.  
To my Heaven upon Earth Mrs. J. F.  
To the fairest and most Angelical Beauty in the whole Universe Mrs. R. T.  
To the adored and most venerable demi-goddess Madam J. K.   

To ordinary Friends and Acquaintance.  
These to his loving and much esteemed Friend Mr. A. B.  
These to his true and trusty Friend Mr. B. C.  
To his honourable Friend Mr. C. D.  
To her newly displeased Friend Mr. D. E.  
To her best resolved Friend Mr. E. F.  
To her well advised Friend Mr. F. G.  
To his loving and long expected Friend Mr. G. H.  
To her most disquieted Friend Mr. H. I.  
To his respected Friend Mr. J. K.  
To his approved Friend Mrs. K. L.  
To her most worthy Friend Mrs. L. M.  
To his well experienced and most esteemed noble Friend Mr. M. N.  
To his well disposed Friend N. O.  
To his much disordered Friend O. P.  
To his unkind and ill advised Friend P. Q.  
To his perjured and lascivious Wife R. S. at her Lodgings in moorfield's.  
To the jealous Pimp and Cuckold my Husband S. S. at his Lodgings in Whetstones-Park.  
To his suddenly displeased Friend Mr. S. T.  
To her worthy Friend Mr. T. T. adventurer in Barbadoes.  
To his true and trusty Friend Mr. V W. Factor in Jamaica.   

Doctor in Divinity.  
To the most pious and most Learned Doctor W. A.   

Doctor in Physic.  
To the most eminent and most skilful Doctor A. B.   

To a Bishop.  
To the most Holy, most Learned, most Benevolent, and most Reverend Father in God, John Lord Bishop of, etc.   
To Mrs. Twattle you may easily find the house,  
For she at Mr. Woodcock's does carouse.    

Posies for Rings, or Mottoes fit for Presents.  

I Love you well, Yourself can tell.  
Let Virtue guide, My lawful Bride.  
Sure you mistake, That bargain's to make.  
My tender heart, Disdain makes smart.  
My Love, Shall ever faithful prove.  
I moan, Because I lie alone.  
Absence ne'er parts, Two loving hearts.  
This and the giver, Are thine for ever.  
I vow to kiss, Her that reads this.  
The Love I own, In this I show.  
No Turtle Dove, Shall show more Love.  
As I affect thee, So respect me.  
The gift is small, But Love is all.  
When this you see, Remember me.  
This to a Friend, I freely send.  
Well directed, If well accepted.  
I'll not express, What you may guests.  
When this you see, Think well of me.  
Virtue and Love, Are from above.  
More near to me, Then Life can be.  
Though Friends cross Love, We'll meet above.  
'Tis Love alone, Makes two but one.  
You and I, Will Lovers die.  
I seek to be, Both thine and thee.  
I am sure to die, If you deny.  
In thee each part, Doth catch a heart.  
My true Love is, Endless as this.  
When Cupid fails, The eye prevails.  
Your blessed sight, Is my delight.  
I wish to have, But blush to crave.  
I wish you knew, What I own you.  
My constant Love, Shall ne'er remove.  
Take this in part, Of my true heart.  
For one sweet kiss, I give you this.  
Nothing for thee, Too dear can be.  
Desire like fire, Doth still aspire.  
In troth you know, It must be so.  
My Love you know, Then say not no.  
If you this forego, You are my foe.  
I love thee Joan, And thee alone.  
I love thee John, Therefore come on.  
My mind is bend, And I am content.  
I'll venture, Till I find Love's centre.  
I was an Ass, Should I let you pass.  
In midst of grief, Love sends relief.  
Where Hearts agree, No strife can be.  
I joy to find, A constant mind.  
Love never dies, Where Virtue lies.  
Love's delight, Is to unite.  
Let Friend nor Foe, This secret know.  
I must confess, Love goes by guess.  
The nigher kin, The further in.  
What I have done, Declare to none.  
My name is Harry, And Doll I'll marry.  
Come when you will, I am yours still.  
I'll take my Oath, To part I'm loath.  
I'll swear and vow, That I love you.  
I hope to meet, Some kisses sweet.  
Though this be small, You shall have all.  
When I am well, Have at thee Nell.  
I hope your mind, To Love inclined.  
Forgive, Or else I cannot live.  
You'll ever find, Me very kind.  
I am full of Love, Towards you my Dove.  
I this present, With good intent.  
What more I own, You'll shortly know.  
True Friends, By Love are made amends.  
Cupid's command, Who can withstand.  
Think well of me, When this you see.  
When you see this, Blow me a kiss.  
My only joy, Be not so coy.  
I love till death, Shall stop my breath.  
Unto the end, I'll be your Friend.    

A COLLECTION OF THE Newest Songs, AND MERRY CATCHES: WHICH Are now sung either at Court or Theatres.  

SONG I.  

WHy should so much beauty fear,  
Round this Isle the Heavens appear,  
Like your own streams undisturbed and clear:  
Those beauteous Nymphs unfrightned too,  
Not minding what another shows, they do  
Their innocent delight pursue.   

Why should so much beauty die,  
Or so sweet a Soul deny,  
The delights of those keep company:  
But whilst 'tis fresh and blossoming,  
ne'er make delays in any thing,  
But grant those joys most pleasure bring.   

Your sweet smiles and dimple cheek,  
Fatal are to all they meet,  
And lay them prostrute at your feet:  
Then dear Nymph for once be kind,  
Let sighs and skricks be left behind;  
Whilst innocent our sport we find.    

SONG II.  

NOw that the cold Winter's expelled by the Sun,  
And the Fields that did penance in Snow;  
Have put Madam Nature's gay Livery on,  
Embroidered with flowers to make a fine show:  
Since the Hills and the Valleys with pleasure abound,  
Let Mortals bear a part and the Frolic go round.   

Hark, hark, how the brids in sweet consort conspire,  
The Lark and the Nightingale join;  
And in every Grove there's an amorous Choir,  
While nothing but mirth is their harmless design:  
Since the Hills and the Valleys together abound,  
Let Mortals bear a part and the Frolic go round.   

Methinks the god Pa●, whose Subjects we are,  
Sits and smiles on his flowery Throne;  
He accepts our kind offering every one,  
Our May-pole's his Sceptre, our Garland his Crown:  
Since the Hills and the Valleys together abound,  
Let Mortals bear a part and the Frolic go round.    

SONG III.  

THe delights of the Bottle, and the charms of good Wine,  
To the Powers and the Pleasures of Love must resign:  
Though the Nights in the Joys of good drinking be past,  
The debauches but till the next morning do last:  
But Love's great debauch is more lasting and strong,  
For that often lasts a Man all his Life long.   

Love and Wine are the bonds which fasten us all,  
The World but for these to confusion would fall:  
Were it not for the Pleasure of Love and good Wine,  
Mankind for each trifle their lives would resign;  
They'd not value dull Life but would live without thinking,  
Nor would Kings rule the World but for Love and good Drinking.    

SONG IU.  

TEll me no more you love,  
Unless you will grant my desire,  
ev'ry thing will prove  
But Fuel unto my Fire:   

'Tis not for kisses alone  
So long have I made my address;  
There's something else to be done,  
Which you cannot choose but guests.   

'Tis not a charming smile,  
That brings me my perfect joys,  
Nor can I be beguiled  
With sighs or craving eyes.   

There is an essence within  
Kind Nature has cleared the doubt:  
Such bliss cannot prove a Sin  
Therefore I will find it out.    

SONG V Dorinda's lamentation for Amintas.  

A Dieu to the pleasures and follies of Love  
For a passion more noble my fancy doth move,  
My Shepherd is dead and I live to proclaim  
With sorrowful notes my Amintas his Name:  
The Wood-Nymphs reply when they hear me complain,  
Thou never shake see thy Amintas again:  
For Death hath befriended him  
Fate hath defended him  
None, none alive is so happy a Swain.   

You Shepherds and Nymphs that have danced to his lays  
Come help me to sing forth Amintas' praise,  
No Swain for the Garland durst with him dispute  
So sweet were his Notes whilst he sung to his Lute:  
Then come to his Grave and your kindness pursue  
To wove him a Garland of Cypress and Yew:  
For life hath forsaken him  
Death has o'ertaken him  
No Swain again will be ever so true.   

Then leave me alone to my wretched Estate,  
I lost him too soon, and I loved him too late:  
You Echoes and Fountains my witnesses prove  
How deeply I sigh for the loss of my Love;  
And now of our Pan whom we chief adore  
This favour I never will cease to implore,  
That I may go above  
And there enjoy my Love  
And live more happy than ever before.    

The Catholic Lover. SONG VI.  

'tIs not enough great gods, 'tis not enough,  
That I one single beauty love,  
No, no, Eternal powers if you  
Envy the peace my mind once knew,  
If't be my Fate to be a slave:  
If I must love and such passions have;  
Let not one Quiver, or one Bow,  
One glance, one dart, one Arrow do;  
Let many eyes my freedom break,  
Let many chains me Captive make,  
'Tis Caesar-like  
From many wounds a death to take.    

SONG VII.  

LOng since fair Clarinda my passion did move  
Whilst under my friendship I covered my Love,  
But now I must speak though I fear 'tis in vain  
'Tis too late in my Death to dissemble my pain;  
In telling my Love though I fear she'll deny  
I shall ease my sad heart and more quietly die.  
Ah sure by my eyes you my passion might find,  
No friendship e'er languished or looked half so kind;  
Though I said not I loved, you might see it too plain,  
Friends use not to sigh, nor to speak with such pain:  
Each touch of your hand such a warmth did inspire,  
My Face was all flamed and my heart all a fire.   

My thoughts are so tender, my Tongue cannot tell,  
What bliss would be yours could you love half so well;  
Let the thing with a Title our property move,  
Let him have the show, and let me have the Love:  
I have loved you so long that if now you delay,  
You'll owe me so much as you never can pay.    

SONG VIII.  

WHat fighs and groans now fill my breast,  
And suffer me to take no rest  
For my Carmelia, Oh she's gone,  
And left me here to sigh alone:  
But is she dead? Then I'll go see  
If in her Grave there's room for me.   

Oh cruel Fate that so designed,  
To take her and leave me behind;  
And thou Oh death whose quick Alarms,  
Have snatched her rudely from my Arms:  
Canst thou not find a way for me,  
To my Carmelia's breast to flee.   

Dye then Anselmio! why dost stay,  
Since thy Carmelia leads the way?  
Oh! die yet faster, do not live,  
That dearest Nymph for to survive.  
Now dearest Soul I come, I fly  
Always to live with thee, I die.    

SONG IX.  

Why should Friends and Kindred gravely make thee  
Wrong thyself and cruelly forsake me;  
Be still my dearest Mistress: hang Relations,  
Love's above their dull considerations:  
Let 'em live and heap up treasure,  
Whilst that thee and I enjoy our pleasure.   

He that seeks a Mistress in a portion,  
Puts himself to use with damned extortion;  
If he must be bribed to copulation,  
Pox upon his Love 'tis out of fashion:  
Where we like, no matter what the estate is,  
'Tis not Love except we show it Gratis.   

How to see the Miser have I wondered,  
Weighing out his passion by the Hundred;  
ne'er consulting Birth nor Education,  
Virtue without Wealth's but profanation:  
Be she old or ugly 'tis no matter,  
So she is but rich, he'll venture at her.   

Jointure is a sordid Lay-invention,  
Quite beside our Nature and Intention;  
When we would agree it makes resistance  
Finding tricks to keep us at a distance:  
Then who poorly make a new Election,  
Suffers wealth to trouble his affection.    

SONG X. A Rant.  

MAke a noise  
Pull it out  
And drink about  
Brave Boys:  
Tother Cup,  
Fill the Glass  
You sober Ass  
Turn up;  
Why so sad  
we'll have more  
Upon the score  
My Lad:  
Let the Rabble  
Prate and babble  
Fontre Diable  
We will all be mad.  
Sing a Catch  
Serenade  
In Masquerade  
The Watch,  
Prittle prattle  
Tittle tattle  
Give 'em battle  
They shall find their match.   

See they come  
Staves and Pikes  
Who ever strikes  
Strike home:  
Come Boys draw  
Fairly meet  
'Em in the street  
Saw! Saw!  
Bravely done  
Cut and slash  
The Weapons clash  
They run.  
How they wallow  
Let us follow  
Hoop and hollow  
For the day is won:  
All's our own,  
Every Crack  
Must on her back  
Lie down;  
Let us muster  
In a cluster  
Huff and bluster  
For we rule the Town.   

Play along,  
Sing and chant  
A merry Rant  
Among;  
Lay about,  
Look you Whores  
Shut all your doors  
And flout.  
All prepare  
See the Sluts  
Draw up the shuts  
Beware  
Batts and Cinders  
Break the Windows  
Nothing hinders  
Let 'em have a care  
Together clash  
In they go,  
At every throw,  
Dash! dash!  
Hark they tumble  
How they rumble  
Now the Whores are quashed.   

Boys dispatch  
'Tis enough  
That we can huff  
The Watch:  
Back again  
To the Sun  
Come let us run  
Amain;  
There we'll stay  
Roar and drink  
And never think  
Of day.  
Time, with Lasses  
Pots and Glasses  
Sweetly passes  
How it slides away:  
Let the Fool,  
He that thinks  
And sleeps and drink  
By Rule;  
By a measure  
At his leisure  
Take his pleasure  
And grow wisely dull.    

SONG XI.  

A Wife I do hate  
For either she's false or she's jealous,  
But give me a Mate  
That nothing will ask, or tell us.  
She stands not on terms  
Nor chaffers by way of Indenture:  
Nor loves for your Farms,  
But takes the kind Man at a venture.   

If all prove not right,  
Without Act, Process, or Warning,  
From a Wife for a night,  
You may be divorced the next morning:  
Where Parents are slaves  
Their Brats cannot be any other;  
Great Wits and great Braves  
Have always a Punk to their Mother.    

SONG XII.  

BE thou joyful I am jolly  
In thy pleasure's my delight,  
Art thou inclined to Melancholy  
I am of that humour right;  
For I can joy; or joys can slight.   

Art thou liberal of embraces  
I can also lavish be,  
Or dost thou scorn to yield such graces  
I can scorn as well as thee  
Of these I can be nice or free.   

Dost thou Joy I should attain thee  
Then I will thy Servant be,  
Or if my presence do disdain thee  
I will never wait on thee,  
For I can love or let thee be.   

If to singing thou ' It apply thee,  
I can warble Notes to thee,  
Or if to sighing, I'll sigh by thee,  
To thy passions I'll agree,  
For I'm to all thy humours free.   

Dost thou joy I should come near thee  
With a heart both firm and true?  
Or dost thou fly my sight and jeer me?  
Unto Lovers that's not new,  
For I can stay, or bid adien.    

SONG XIII.  

OH Celia come tell me how long it will be  
Before you will grant my desire,  
Is there no end of your cruelty  
But must I consume in this fire:  
You'll not say you love nor yet that you hate  
But delight for to see me languish;  
Ah Celia take pity of my desperate state  
And remove the cause of my anguish.   

Ah Celia remember the pitiful moan  
That came from your desperate Lover,  
When I was sitting and sighing alone  
Nor did I my Celia discover:  
The Hills with the Valleys took share of my grief  
And Echoed my Lamentation;  
Yet Celia unkind will not give me relief  
But takes pleasure in my vexation.    

A Catch. XIV.  

IF Wealth would keep a Man alive  
I'd only study how to thrive,  
That having got a mighty Mass  
Might then bribe Fate to let me pass:  
But since we can't prolong our years.  
Why spend we time in griefs and fears?  
For since by destiny we die  
And must all pass over the Ferry,  
Hang sicknesses and ears  
Since we han't many years  
Let's have a short life and a merry.    

A Drinking Catch. XV.  

COme away, t'other Glass  
He's a temperate Ass  
That refuses his brimmer of Rhenish,  
While our bottles go round  
A new way we have found  
Both our heads and our veins to replenish:  
We'll be witty and brave when our Noddles are full,  
While the sober young Fop is but prudently dull:   

With Wenches and wine  
Ourselves we refine,  
From the dross of the Puritan City  
We care not a Louse  
For the dull Coffee-house  
'Tis the Tavern that makes a Man witty:  
In spite of misfortune thus happy we are,  
In a jolly brave Soul that's a stranger to care.    

SONG XVI.  

Were Celia but as chaste as fair,  
How could I kiss the snare,  
And therein lie  
And ne'er be tired with my Captivity:  
But she's a Whore, that cools my blood,  
Oh! that she were less handsome or more good.   

Would you believe that there can rest  
Deceit within that breast,  
Or that those Eyes  
Which look like Friends are only spies:  
But she's a Whore, yet sure I lie  
May there not be degrees of Chastity.   

No, no, what means that wanton smile  
But only to beguile,  
Thus did the first  
Of Women make all Men accursed  
I for their sakes give Women o'er,  
The first was false the fairest is a Whores.    

A drinking Catch. XVII.  

What a madness it is to give over our drinking,  
When Apollo is drunk you may know by his winking;  
His Face is on flame, and his Nose is so red,  
It predicts he is sleepy and goes drunk to bed:  
Let him sleep to grow sober while we tarry here,  
And drink till the Morning appear.    

Despair. SONG XVIII.  

MAke a Bed in the deep,  
For me discontented poor Lover to sleep,  
Till the Cannons like Thunder  
Rend the Heavens in sunder,  
And fright'ning the Main  
Do force me at last to unwaken again.   

When the Storms do arise  
And with their proud Surges encounter the Skies,  
My head finds a Pillow  
On the top of a Billow  
And I look for a Grave,  
Within the cold Womb of a turbulent Wave.   

The Wind shall convey  
My Prayers unto her I adore ev'ry day:  
It gently shall move  
Her to pity her Love;  
And each sigh that he hears  
It shall whisper again into Phillis' Ears.   

If the Tempest do roar  
Then Phillis alone is the Saint I implore,  
If she will not appease  
The rage of the Seas,  
Nor calm the rough Wether  
I'll breathe out her name and my Life both together.   

So the Ocean to me  
Shall instead of a Tomb and a Sepulchre be,  
And as I do glide  
Too and fro with the Tide  
Thereby is expressed  
That a Lover may die but he never can rest.   

Over Phillis shall hover  
The wandering Soul of her martyred Lover,  
And if I do find her  
To my memory kinder,  
Oh then I shall never  
Abandon her bosom but tarry for ever.    

SONG XIX.  

When a Woman that's buxom to a dotard doth wed,  
'Tis a madness to think she'll be tied to his bed,  
For who can resist a Gallant that is young  
And a Man Al-a-mode in his Garb and his Tongue:  
His looks have such charms and his Language such force,  
That the drowfie Mechanicks a Cuckold of course.   

He brings her acquainted with Dons of the Court,  
That are persons of worth, and of civil report;  
Thus she cannot a kind opportunity want  
For he'll trusther with no Man except her Gallant:  
Yet the confident Fop for her honesty swears  
So he grafts on himself the gay horns that he wears.   

Thus happy are we that are yoked to a Citt  
For when ever we teach him he pays for his wit,  
By his Duck that appeared to be faithful and chaste,  
He finds himself Cuckold and beggared at last;  
And the credulous Fool having drudged all his Life,  
Proves a Thief to himself and a Pimp to his wife.    

SONG XX.  

LEt the Bowl pass free  
From him to thee  
As it first came to me  
'Tis pity that we should confine it,  
Having all either credit or coin yet,  
Let it even take its course  
There's no stopping its force  
He that shuffles must interline it.   

Lay aside your cares  
Of Shops and wares  
And irrational fears  
Let each breast be as thoughtless as his'n is,  
That from his Bride newly risen is  
We'll banish each soul  
That comes here to condole  
Or is troubled with Love or business.   

The King we'll not name  
Nor a Lady to inflame,  
With desire to the Game  
And into a dumpishness drive all;  
Or make us run mad, or go Wive all:  
We'll have this whole night  
Set apart for delight  
And our mirth shall have no corrival.   

Then see that the Glass  
Through its circuit do pass,  
Till it come where it was  
And every Man's Nose been within it,  
Till he end it that first did begin it:  
As Copernicus found  
That the World did turn round,  
We will prove so does ev'ry thing in it.    

SONG XXI.  

I Always resolved to be free from the charms  
That Love with his subtlety e'er could invent,  
I kicked at his Deity laughed at the harms  
That he could devise to abridge my content:  
But now I do find though the Lad he be blind,  
The mark he hath hit and hath changed my mind;  
A Boy though he be, yet his Manhood I see,  
For with one poor Dart hath he conquered me.   

I likewise before such beauties did see  
With charms in their Tongues and darts in their eyes,  
Who thought by their Wiles to intoxicate me  
But never before my heart could surprise:  
But now I do see that a slave I must be,  
To one that before was a Servant to me;  
For the angry god's Dart hath so pierced my heart,  
No Balm that's applied but increaseth the smart.   

And thus being plunged in that loving amaze  
The place is a Labyrinth where I reside,  
Whose turn and wind hath so many ways  
That none can get out without help of a guide:  
And my guide is so coy though my Soul I employ,  
To lie at her feet, yet my hope she'll destroy;  
But rather than I'll keep parley with her eye,  
To add to my bonds, I am resolved to die.    

SONG XXII.  

FAir Clarinda I do owe  
All the Woe  
That I know  
To those glorious looks alone,  
Though you're an unrelenting stone:  
The quick  from your eyes  
Did sacrifice  
My unwise,  
My unwary harmless heart,  
And now you glory in my smart.   

How unjustly you do blame  
That pure flame  
From you came  
Vexed with what yourself may burn,  
Your scorns to Tinder did it turn:  
The least spark how Love can call  
That does fall  
On the small  
Scorched remainder of my heart  
Will make it burn in every part.    

A Pastoral Song. XXIII:  

AS I was sitting on the Grass  
Within a silent shady Grove,  
I overheard a Country Lass  
Was there bewailing of her Love:  
My Love says she  
Is ta'en from me  
And to the Wars is pressed and gone;  
He's marched away  
And gone to Sea,  
Alack, alack, and a welladay  
And left me here alone.   

My Love he was the kindest Man  
There's none that's like him in the Town,  
He gently takes me by the hand  
And gave me many a Green Gown;  
With kisses sweet  
He would me treat  
And often sing a Roundelay:  
And sometimes smile  
Then chat a while,  
That so we might the time beguile  
A livelong Summer's day.   

My Love on May-day still would be  
the earliest up of all the rest,  
With Scarves and Ribbons than would he  
Of all the crew be finest dressed;  
With Morris Bells  
And fine things else,  
But when the Pipe began to play:  
He danced so well  
I heard 'em tell  
That he did all the rest excel,  
And bore the bell away.   

The Man that took my Love away  
Was too, too harsh and too severe,  
I gently on my knees did pray  
That he my Love would then forbear;  
I offered too  
A breeding Ewe  
And Chilver-Lamb that was my own;  
Do what I could  
It did no good  
He left me in this pensive mood  
To sigh and make my moan.    

SONG XXIV.  

When first I saw fair Celia's face  
So full of Majesty and Grace,  
As potent Armies do attack  
The place can no resistance make:  
So she by power has made her way  
Unto my heart and there does stay  
Receiving homage which I pay.   

The force of Love who can withstand  
It is in vain to countermand,  
What envious Cupid has decreed  
Then my poor heart must ever bleed:  
Till you fair Nymph by pity moved  
My passion having once approved  
Can love as now you are beloved.   

It would be Gallantry in Love,  
If Celia would the Act approve;  
Where she so long has caused a smart  
There to bestow at last her heart:  
In doing so (fair Saint) you may,  
From your blessed name derive a day,  
When Lovers all to you shall-pray.    

Against Poets. SONG XXV.  

What mean the dull Poets themselves to abuse,  
With the pitiful Rhimes of an ignorant Muse;  
No more in the praise of a Nymph let 'em prate,  
Nor complain of the Stars or unkindness of Fate:  
But if they must Rhyme let 'em do't to some end,  
And sing us a song of our Bottle and Friend.   

They're in pitiful case with their heart and their flame,  
And are puzzled to find a new Mistress' name;  
But once in a Stanza they must be in Love,  
Then their Protean Mistress must any thing prove:  
For their sense and their truth's are but Pimps to their Rhyme,  
And their Alphabet helps 'em to words that will chime.   

The Mistress they sancy they fit to their mind,  
In a minute she's pretty, coy, cruel, and kind;  
Thus Women are Deities only in show  
While to them they do all their constancy owe:  
But in Burgundy we the fond passion will quench,  
Or if we must love we will go to a Wench.    

A Pastoral Song, XXVI.  

O Delia! for I know 'tis thee,  
I know 'tis thee,  
For nothing else could move  
My tuneless heart, but something from above;  
I hate all Earthly Harmony,  
Hark, hark, ye Nymphs and Satyrs all around;  
Hark how the baffled Echo faints and dies,  
See how the winged Air all gasping lies,  
At the melodious sound,  
Mark while she sings  
How they droop and flag their wings.  
Angelic Delia sing no more,  
Thy Song's too great for mortal Ear;  
Thy charming Notes I can no longer bear:  
Oh then in pity to the world give o'er  
And leave us stupid as we were before;  
Fair Delia take the fatal choice  
To veil thy beauty or suppress thy voice:  
His passions thus poor Celadon betrayed,  
When first he saw, when first he heard the lovely Maid.    

SONG XXVII.  

Hung up Mars  
And his Wars  
Give us drink,  
We'll tipple my Lads together,  
Those are Slaves  
Fools and Knaves  
That have chink,  
And must pay  
For what they say  
Do or think  
Good fellows account for neither:  
Be we round, be we square,  
We are happier than they are,  
Whose dignity works their ruin:  
He that well the bowl rears  
Can baffle his cares  
And a fig for Death or undoing.    

SONG XXVIII.  

When I see the young Men play  
Young methinks I am as they,  
And my aged thoughts laid by  
To the dance with joy I fly:  
Come a flowery Chaplet lend me  
Youth and merry thoughts attend me.   

Age be gone, we'll dance among  
Those that young are, and be young,  
Bring some wine boy, fill about  
You shall see the old Man's stout:  
Who can laugh and tipple too,  
And be mad as well as you.    

A Tavern Song, XXIX.  

COme drink off your Liquor  
'Twil make you the quicker  
For Rhimes, Songs, Conceits, or for Ballads,  
Be the Wine red or yellow  
The cups deep or shallow  
There's nought comes amiss to our Palates.   

Chorus.  
Then come drink away  
Be it night or be it day  
The time shall be told as it passes:  
The true Hour we shall know  
By the Ebb and the Flow  
Of the jolly quart Pots and the Glasses.   

It stands us upon  
To change our Helicon  
For Spring it was nothing but Water:  
But hence springs a fire  
That will quicken and inspire  
And tickle our senses with laughter.   

Chorus.  
Then come drink away  
Be it night or be it day  
The time shall be told as it passes:  
The true hour we do know  
By the Ebb and the Flow  
Of the jolly quart Pots and the Glasses.    

SONG XXX.  

DIngenes was merry in his Tub  
And so let us be in our Club,  
'Tis mirth that fills our brains with blood  
More than either Sleep, Wine, or Food;  
Let each Man keep his heart at ease  
No Man e'er died of that Disease:  
'Twil always keep thy body in health  
Then value it above thy Wealth,  
'Tis sadness and grief that doth bring  
Diseases in Autumn, and in the Spring,  
Then welcome harmless Mirth let's say  
For the more we laugh, the more we may.    

On a dead Horse, an Epitaph. SONG XXXI.  

HEre lies not in, but on Earth's Womb,  
An Horse exposed without a Tomb;  
No winding-sheet, nor his own skin,  
Nor laid by any of his Kin.  
Yet was no Jade; Death had a race  
And took him for a sprightly pace:  
Now see his Funeral Exequys  
Th' Ravens in Black do solemnize,  
Unto the Skies they him exalt  
Being Sepulchred in Airy Vault:  
In living Tombs he thus out-prides  
MECHA and Egypt Pyramids:  
Change now his Epitaph, say not here lies  
A Horse but rather here he flies.  
Mourn not his Fate my Friends, since thus  
The Horse is now transformed to Pegasus.    

SONG XXXII.  

Where the Bee sucks there suck I  
In a Cowslip Bell I lie,  
There I couch when Owls do cry,  
On the Batts back I do fly  
After Summer merrily:  
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now  
Under the blossom that hangs on the Bough.    

Anger, SONG XXXIII.  

A Curse upon thee for a slave  
Art thou here, and heard'st me rave?  
Fly not sparkles from mine eye  
To show my indignation nigh?  
Am I not all Foam and Fire  
With voice as hoarse as a Town Cryer?  
How my back opes and shuts together  
With fury as old Men's with Wether?  
Couldst thou not hear my Teeth knack hither  
Thou nasty scurvy mongrel toad?  
Mischief on thee, light upon thee,  
All the Plagues that can confound thee  
Or did ever reign abroad:  
Better a thousand lives it cost  
Then have brave Anger spilt or lost.    

SONG XXXIV.  

THe Pot and the Pipe  
The Cup and the Can,  
Have undone, quite undone  
Many a Man.   

The Hawk and the Hound  
The Dice and the Whore,  
Have undone, quite undone  
Twice as many more.    

A Scotch Song. XXXV.  

I Who not go to't, I must not go to't  
For Love nor eer for Fee,  
For I am a Maid, and will be a Maid  
And a good one till I dye:  
Yet mine intent I could repent  
For one Man's company.    

SONG XXXVI.  

HE that marries a merry Lass  
He has most cause to be sad,  
For let her go free  
In her merry tricks  
She'll work his patience mad.   

But he that marries a Scold, a Scold,  
He has most cause to be merry,  
For when she's in her fits  
He may cherish his Wits  
With singing hay down derry.   

He that weds a roaring Girl  
That will both scratch and fight,  
Though he study all day  
To make her away  
He'll be glad to please her at night.   

And he that copes with a sullen Wench  
That scarce will speak at all:  
Her doggedness more  
Than a Scold or a Whore  
Will penetrate his Gall.   

He that's matched with a Turtle Dove  
That has no Spleen about her,  
Shall waste so much Life  
In love of his Wife  
He had better be without her.    

SONG XXXVII.  

YOu Lovers love on  
Lest the World be undone  
And Mankind be lost by degrees,  
For if all from their Loves  
Should go wander in Groves  
There soon would be nothing but Trees.    

SONG XXXVIII.  

WOman who is by nature wild  
Dull bearded Man encloses,  
Of Nature's freedom we're beguiled  
By Laws which Man imposes:  
Who still himself continues free  
Yet we poor slaves must fettered be.   

Chorus.  
A shame on the Cursed  
Of for better for worse  
'Tis a vile imposition on Nature,  
For Women should change  
And have Freedom to range  
Like to every other wild Creature.   

So gay a thing was ne'er designed  
To be restrained from roving,  
Heaven meant so changeable a mind  
Should have its change in loving:  
By cunning we could make men smart  
But they by strength o'ercome our Art.   

Chorus.  
A shame on the Curse  
Of for better for worse  
'Tis a vile imposition on Nature,  
For Women should change  
And have freedom to range  
Like to every other wild Creature.   

How happy is the Village Maid  
Whom only Love can setter,  
By foolish Honour ne'er betrayed  
She serves a power much greater:  
That lawful Prince the wisest rules;  
Th' Usurper, Honour, rules but Fools.   

Chorus.  
A shame on the Curse  
Of for better for worse  
'Tis a vile imposition on Nature,  
For Women should change  
And have Freedom to range  
Like to every other wild Creature.   

Let us resume our ancient right  
Make Man at distance wonder,  
Though he victorious be in fight  
In Love we'll keep him under:  
War and Ambition hence be hurled  
Let Love and Women rule the World.   

Chorus.  
A shame on the Curse  
Of for better for worse  
'Tis a vile imposition on Nature,  
For Women should change  
And have Freedom to range  
Like to every other wild Creature.    

SONG XXXIX.  

STay shut not the Gate  
Tother quart 'tis not so late  
As your thinking,  
The Stars which you see  
In the Hemisphere be,  
Are but Studs in our cheeks by good drinking:  
The Sun's gone to tipple all night in the Sea, Boys  
To morrow he '! blush that he's paler than we Boys,  
Drink Wine give him Water, 'tis Sack makes us the Boys.   

Fill up the Glass  
To the next merry Lad let it pass  
Come away with't,  
Let's set Foot to Foot  
And give our minds to't  
'Tis Heretical Sects that do slay wit:  
Then hang up good faces, let's drink till our Noses  
Gives freedom to speak what our fancy disposes,  
Beneath whose protection now under the Rose is.   

Drink off your Bowl  
'Twil enrich your Head and your Soul,  
With Canary:  
For a Carbunkled Face  
Saves a tedious race  
For the Indies about us we carry:  
No Helicon like to the Juice of the Vine is,  
For Phoebus had never had Wit that Divine is,  
Had his Face not been bow-dyed as thine is and mine is.  
This must go round  
Off with your Hats till the Pavement be crowned  
With your Beavers,  
A Red coated Face  
Frights a Sergeant at Mace  
Whilst the Constable trembles to shivers:  
In state march our Faces like some of the Quorum,  
While the Whores fall down and the vulgar adore 'em,  
And our Noses like Link-boys go shining before 'em.    

SONG XL.  

CUpid's no God, a wanton Child,  
His Art's too weak, his power's too mild,  
No active heat nor noble fire  
Feathers his Arrows with desire:  
'Tis not his Bow or Shaft 'tis Venus' eye  
Makes him adored and crowns his Deity.    

On a Kiss. SONG XLI.  

OH that joy so soon should waste  
Or so sweet a bliss  
As a kiss  
Might not for ever last,  
A sugry melting, so soft, so delicious,  
The Dew that lies on Roses  
When the Morn herself discloses  
Is not so precious:  
Or rather when I would it smother  
Were I to taste but such another,  
It would be my wishing  
That I might die with kissing.    

SONG XLII.  

HOw happy's the Prisoner who conquers his fate  
With filence and ne'er on bad fortune complains,  
But carelessly plays with his key on the Grate  
And makes a sweet Consort with them and his chains:  
He drowns care with Sack when his heart is oppressed,  
And with that makes it flout like a Cork in his breast.  
Then since we are all Slaves who Islanders be  
And our Land's a large Prison enclosed with the Sea,  
We'll drink off the Ocean, and set ourselves free,  
For Man is the World's Epitome.   

Let Tyrants wear purple deep died in the blood  
Of those they have slain their Sceptre to sway,  
If our Conscience be clear, and our Title be good  
To the Rags that hang on us we are richer than they:  
We drink up at night what we can beg or borrow  
And sleep without plotting for more the next morrow.  
Then since we are all Slaves who Islanders be  
And our Land's a large Prison enclosed with the Sea,  
We'll drink off the Ocean and set ourselves free,  
For Man is the World's Epitome.   

Come Drawer fill each Man a pint of Canary  
This Brimmer shall bid all our senses good night,  
When old Aristotle was froliek and merry  
With the juice of the Grape he turned Staggerite:  
Copernicus once in a drunken fit found  
By the course of his brains that the Earth did turn round.  
Then since we are all Slaves who Islanders be  
And our Land's a large Prison enclosed with the Sea,  
We'll drink off the Ocean, and set ourselves free  
For Man is the World's Epitome.   

'Tis Sack makes our Faces like Comets to shine  
And gives us a beauty beyond Complexions mask,  
Diogenes fell so in Love with his Wine  
That when 'twas all out he dwelled in the Cask:  
He lived by the scent in that close wainscotted room  
When dying requested the Tub for his Tomb.  
Then since we are all Slaves who Islanders be  
And the Land's a large Prison enclosed with the Sea,  
We'll drink off the Ocean, and set ourselves free,  
For Man is the World's Epitome.   

Though the Usurer watch on his bags and his house  
To keep that from robbers he raked from his debtors,  
Each Midnight cries Thiefs at the noise of a Mouse  
Then looks if his bags are fast bound in the setters:  
When once he grows rich enough for a State-plot  
In one hour Buff-plunder what threescore years got.  
Then since we are all Slaves who Islanders be  
And our Lands a large Prison enclosed with the Sea,  
We'll drink off the Ocean and set ourselves free,  
For Man is the World's Epitome.   

Let him never so privately muster his Gold  
His Angels will their Intelligence be,  
How close they are pressed in his Canvas hold  
And long that State Soldiers should set them all free  
Let him pine and be hanged, we will merrily sing  
Who hath nothing to lose may cry, God bless the King.  
Then since we are all Slaves who Islanders be  
And our Land's a large Prison enclosed with the Sea,  
We'll drink off the Ocean and set ourselves free  
For Man is the World's Epitome.    

A Rural Song, XLIII.  

NYmph and Shepherd come away  
In these Groves let's sport and play,  
Let each day be a Holiday,  
Sacred to ease and happy Love  
To dancing Music Poetry;  
Your Flocks may now securely Rove  
While you express your jollity.   

Chorus of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.  
We come, we come no joy like to this  
Now let us sing, rejoice and kiss,  
The Great can never know such bliss,  
1. As this,  
2. As this,  
3. As this,  
All. As this.  
The Great can never know such blessed.   

All the Inhabitants o'th' Wood  
Now celebrate the Spring,  
That gives vigour to the blood  
Of every living thing:  
The Birds have been billing and singing before us  
And all the sweet Choristers join in the Chorus:  
The Nightingales with jugging throats  
Warbling out their pretty Notes  
So sweet, so sweet, so sweet,  
And thus our Loves and pleasures greet.   

Chorus of all.  
Then let our Pipes sound, let us dance and sing,  
Till the murmuring Groves with Echo's ring.   

How happy are we  
From all Jealousy free  
No dangers nor cares can annoy us,  
We toy and we kiss  
And Love's our chief bliss  
A pleasure that never can cloy us,  
Our days we consume in unenvyed delights  
And in love and soft rest our happy long nights.   

Each Nymph does impart  
Her Love without Art  
To her Swain who thinks that his chief Treasure:  
No envy is feared  
No sighs we e'er heard  
But those which are caused by our pleasure;  
When we feel the best raptures of innocent Love,  
No joys exceed ours but the pleasures above.   

Chorus.  
In these delightful fragrant Groves  
Let's celebrate our happy Loves  
Let's Pipe and Dance, and Laugh and Sing,  
Thus every happy livingthing  
Revels in the time of Spring.    

SONG XLIV.  

FArewel thou dearest of my crimes  
Be never more the abuser of my times,  
Lest that I curse too late  
The errors of my Fate  
Which made me love thee.  
All ye Deities divine  
Strengthen this request of mine,  
Then may I say  
Frail delights pass away  
I am ruled by a power that's above thee.   

No more shall thy seducing smiles  
Thy winning looks, or other sweet beguiles,  
Have power to withdraw  
My heart from Love, by Law  
Sealed to another;  
Cupid I thy power defy  
Thou art a flattering Deity  
And there are none  
But say thou art the Son  
Of a fair, foolish, fickle, wanton Mother.    

SONG XLV.  

Augusta is inclined to fears  
Be she full or be she waning,  
Still Augusta is complaining;  
Give her all you can to ease her  
Give her all you can to ease her  
You can never, never please her.    

SONG XLVI.  

YOur merry Poets, old Boys,  
Of Aganippus Well,  
Full many Tales have told Boys,  
Whose Liquor doth excel;  
And how that place was haunted  
By those that loved good Wine,  
Who tippled there and chanted  
Among the Muses nine:  
Where still they cried, Drink clear, Boys  
And you shall quickly know it,  
That 'tis not lousy Beer, Boys  
But Wine that makes a Poet.    

SONG XLVII.  

COme you Ladies of the Night  
That in silent sports delight,  
And see the wanton Moonshine play  
To light us in our doleful way:  
Come, come, come Ladies come  
The Night's not blind though deaf and dumb.   

Ladies have you seen a Toy  
Called Love, a little Boy?  
Almost, naked, wanton, blind,  
Cruel now, and then as kind;  
If he be 'mongst you Ladies say,  
That he is Venus' Runaway.   

Marks about him he hath plenty  
You may know him amongst many,  
As his body is on fire  
And his breath out-flames desire  
So being sent like Lightning in  
He wound our hearts but not our skin.   

If any here can but discover  
Where this winged wag doth hover,  
For her pains shall have a kiss  
When and where her heart can wish:  
But she that can but bring him to his Mother,  
From Venus and her Boy shall have another.    

SONG XLVIII.  

SInce we poor slavish Women know  
Our Men we cannot pick and choose.  
To him we like why say we not  
We have no pleasure to refuse:  
By our put-offs, and fond delays  
A Lover's Appetite we palls;  
And if the Gallant stays too long  
His Stomach's gone for good and all.   

Or our impatient amorous guest  
Unknown to us away may steal,  
And rather than stay for a Feast  
Take up with some course ready meal,  
When opportunity is kind  
Let prudent Women be so too,  
And if the Man be to her mind  
Tell her she must not let him go.   

The Match soon made is happy'st still  
For Love hath only there to do.  
Let no one marry against her will  
But stand off when her Parent's woe  
And only to their suit be coy,  
For she whom jointure can obtain:  
To let a Fop her bed enjoy  
Is but a lawful Whore for gain.    

SONG XLIX.  

LEt Fortune and Phillis frown if they please  
I'll no more on their Deities call,  
Nor trouble the Fates but I'll give myself ease  
And be happy in spite of them all:  
I will have my Phillis if I once go about her  
Or if I have not I'll live better without her.   

But if she prove virtuous obliging and kind,  
Perhaps I'll vouchsafe for to love her,  
But if Pride and inconstancy in her I find,  
I'd have her to know I'm above her:  
For at length I have learned now my Fetters are gone  
To love if I please or let it alone.    

SONG L.  

FOnd fables tell of old  
How Jove in Danae's lap  
Fell in a shower of Gold,  
By which she caught a Clap:  
Oh had it been my hap!  
However the blow doth threaten,  
So well I like the play,  
That I could wish all day  
And night to be so beaten.    

SONG LI.  

'TIs late and cold, stir up the fire,  
Sat close, and draw the Table nigher,  
Be merry and drink Wine that's old  
A hearty Medicine against a Cold:  
Your Beds of wanton Down the best  
Where you shall tumble to your rest.   

I could wish you Wenches too  
But I am old and cannot do,  
Call for the best the House may ring  
Sack, White, and Claret, let 'em bring,  
And drink apace whilst breath you have  
You'll find but cold drink in the Grave.   

Plover, Partridge, for your Dinner  
And a Capon for the sinner,  
You shall find ready when you're up,  
And your Horse shall have his sup:  
Welcome, welcome, shall fly round  
And I shall smile though under ground.    

SONG LII.  

Venus' chanced to love a Boy,  
Young Adonis was her Joy,  
He once leapt from off her knee  
To hunt and take a Humble Bee,  
Then the bag to her did bring,  
She sighed and asked him for the sting:  
When he looked and saw her eye  
Drop a tear, he strait did cry,  
Oh forgive me I will bring  
A bigger and a longer sting;  
Smiling she cried, pretty Lad,  
When that time comes I shall be glad.    

SONG LIII.  

I'll sing you a Song that was never in Print  
It's truly and newly come out of the Mint,  
I'll tell you before hand you'll find nothing in't.   

On nothing I think, and on nothing I Writ,  
'Tis nothing I covet yet nothing I slight,  
Nor care I a pin if I get nothing by't.   

Fire, Air, Earth and Water, Beasts, Birds, Fish, and Men,  
Did start out of nothing, a Chaos, a Den;  
And all things shall turn into nothing again.   

'Tis nothing sometimes that makes many things hit,  
As when Fools amongst wise Men do silently fit;  
A Fool that says nothing may pass for a Wit.   

What one Man loves is another Man's loathing,  
This Blade loves a quick thing, that a new thing;  
And both of them in conclusion love nothing.   

Your Lad that makes Love to a delicate smooth thing,  
Who thinking to gain her with sighs and with soothing  
Does frequently make much ado about nothing.   

At last when his patience and Purse is decayed,  
He may to the Bed of a Whore be betrayed,  
But she that hath nothing must needs be a Maid.   

Your slashing and clashing, and flashing of Wit,  
Doth start out of nothing but Fancy and fit;  
'Tis little or nothing to what hath been writ.   

When first by the Ears we together did fall,  
Then something got nothing, and nothing got all;  
From nothing it came and to nothing it shall.   

That party that sealed to a Covenant in haste  
Who made our three Kingdoms and Churches lie waste;  
Their project and all came to nothing at last.   

They raised an Army of Horse and of Foot,  
To tumble down Monarchy, Branches and Root;  
They thundered and plundered but nothing would do't.   

The Organ, the Altar, and Ministers clothing,  
In Presbyter Jack begat such a loathing:  
That he must needs raise a petty new nothing.   

And when he had robbed us in sanctified clothing  
Perjured the people by faithing and trothing,  
At last he was catcht and all came to nothing.   

In several Factions we quarrel and brawl,  
Dispute and contend and to fight we fall;  
I'll lay all to nothing that nothing wins all.   

When War and Rebellion and Plundering grows,  
The Mendicant Man is the freest from Foes;  
Most happy is he that hath nothing to lose.   

Brave Caesar and Pompey, and brave Alexander,  
Whom Armies did follow as Goose follows Gander;  
Nothing can say to an Action of slander.   

The wisest great Prince were he never so stout,  
Though he conquered the World and gave Mankind a Rout;  
Did bring nothing in, nor shall bring nothing out.   

Old Noll that arose from high thing to low thing,  
By Brewing Rebellion, Nicking and Frothing;  
In seven years' space was both all things and nothing.   

Dick (Oliver's Heir) that pitiful slow thing,  
Who once was invested in purple clothing;  
Stands for a cipher, and that stands for nothing.   

If King-killers bold are excluded from bliss,  
Old Bradshaw (that feels the reward on't e'er this)  
Had better been nothing than what now he is.   

Blind Colonel Hewson that lately did crawl,  
To a lofty degree from a low Cobler's stall;  
Did bring all to nothing when Awl came to Awl.   

Your Gallant that Rants it in delicate clothing,  
Though lately he was but a pitiful low thing;  
Pays Landlord, Draper, and Tailor with nothing.   

The nimble tongued Lawyer that pleads for his pay,  
When Death doth arrest him and bear him away;  
At the general Bar will have nothing to say.   

Whores that in Silk were by Gallants embraced,  
By a rabble of Prentices lately were chased;  
Their courting and sporting comes to nothing at last.   

If any Man tax me with weakness of Wit,  
And say that on nothing I nothing have Writ,  
I shall answer, Ex nihilo nihil fit.   

Yet let his discretion be never so tall,  
This very word nothing shall give it a fall,  
For writing of nothing I comprehend all.   

Let every Man give the Poet his due,  
'Cause then 'twas with him as now it's with you;  
He studied it when he had nothing to do.   

This very word nothing if took the right way,  
May prove advantageous for what would you say?  
If the Vint'ner should cry there's nothing to pay.    

SONG LIV.  

Cupid once was weary grown  
With women's errands, laid him down  
On a refreshing Rosy Bed  
The same sweet Covert harboured  
A Bee, and as she always had  
Aquarrel with Love's idle Lad;  
Stings the soft Boy; Pains and Fears  
Strait melts him into Cries and Tears:  
As Wings and Feet would let each other,  
Home he hastens to his Mother  
Then on her knees he hangs his head  
And cries Oh Mother! I am dead,  
An ugly Snake they call a Bee  
(Oh see it swells) has murdered me;  
Venus with smiles replies, O Sir,  
Does a Bees sting make all this stir,  
Think what pains then attend those Darts,  
Wherewith thou still art wounding hearts,  
E'en let it smart, may chance that then  
Thou'lt learn more pity towards Men.    

Philomela and Charon. SONG LV.  Phil. 
CHaron, Oh gentle Charon let me woo thee  
By tears and pity now to come unto me.  Char. 
What voice so sweet and charming do I hear?  
Speak what thou art.  Phil. 
I prithee first draw near:  Char. 
A sound I hear but nothing yet can see,  
Speak what thou art?  Phil. 
Oh Charon pity me!  
I am a Bird, and though no name I tell  
My Warbling Note will say I am Philomela.  Char. 
What's that to me, I waft no Fish nor Fowls,  
Nor Beasts nor Birds, but only humane Souls.  Phil. 
Alas for me!  Char. 
Shame on thy witching Note,  
That made me thus hoist Sail and bring my Boat:  
But I'll return what mischief brought thee hither?  Phil. 
A deal of Love and much, much grief together.  Char. 
If this be all I am gone.  Phil. 
For Love I pray thee.  Char. 
Talk not of love, all pray but few Souls pay me.  Phil. 
I'll give thee sighs and tears.  Char. 
Will tears and sighs pay scores?  
For patching Sails, for mending Boats and Oars.  Phil. 
I'll beg a penny, and I'll sing so long  
Till thou shalt say I have paid thee with a Song.  Char. 
Why then begin:  Phil. 
And all the while we make  
Our slothful passage o'er the Stygian Lake:  
Thou and I'll sing to make these dull shades merry,  
Which else with tears would doubtless drown our Ferry.   

SONG LVI.  

WHat an Ass is he  
That waits on a Woman's leisure,  
For a minute's pleasure  
And yet perhaps may be  
Gulled at last and lose her,  
What an Ass is he.   

Shall I sigh and die  
'Cause a Maid denies me,  
And that she may try,  
Suffer patiently;  
Oh no Fate shall tie me  
To such cruelty.   

Love is all my Life  
For it keeps me doing,  
Yet my Love and Wooing  
Is not for a Wife;  
It is good eschewing  
Warring care and strife.   

What need I to care  
For a Woman's favour,  
If another have her  
Why should I despair;  
When for Gold and labour  
I can have my share.   

If I fancy one  
And that one do love me,  
Yet deny to prove me,  
Farewell, I am gone:  
She can never move me,  
Farewell, I am gone.   

If I chance to see  
One that's brown, I love her  
Till I see another  
That's more brown than she:  
For I am a Lovet  
Of my Liberty.   

Every day I change  
And at once love many,  
Yet not tied to any,  
For I love to range;  
And if one should stay me  
I should think it strange.   

What if she be old  
So that she have riches.  
Youth and Form bewitches,  
But it is store of Gold  
Cures lascivious Itches,  
So the Critics hold.    

SONG LVII.  

I Know more than Apollo  
For whilst that he was sleeping,  
I saw the Stars  
At mortal Jars,  
And watery Neptune weeping.   

I saw fierce Mars contending  
With his bright fiery Face,  
Saturn likewise  
threatening the Skies  
Careering with a Grace.   

Venus with all her Train  
Of Heavenly Nymphs was dancing,  
Revelling all night  
They vanished quite  
And Pegasus left prancing.   

Sol hid himself, and Phoebe  
Plucked in her Horns for fear,  
And Jove did fly  
Through the Gallery  
But his Messenger did swear.   

Astronomers from hence  
Might Britain's State portray,  
Our Sun's a sleep  
Let England weep  
Impiety bears sway.   

Meteors, not Stars Eclipse  
Our Hemisphere I think,  
If they be crowned  
The World turns round,  
We're all undone let's drink.    

SONG LVIII.  

HOld back thy Hours dark night till we have done  
The day will come too soon,  
Young Maids will curse thee if thou stealest away,  
And leav'st their blushes open to the day:  
Stay, stay, and hid  
The blushes of the Bride.   

Stay Gentle night and with thy darkness cover  
The kisses of my Lover,  
Stay and confound her Tears and her shrill cry,  
Her weak denials, vow and often die:  
Stay and hid all,  
But help not though she call.    

SONG LIX.  

COurtier if thou needest wilt Wive  
From this Lesson learn to thrive,  
If to match it be thy Fate  
Let her surpass in Birth and State;  
Let her curious garments be  
Twice above thine own degree;  
This will draw great eyes upon her  
Gain her Servants, and thee Honour.    

SONG LX.  

POor Citizen, if thou wilt be  
A happy Husband, learn of me,  
To set thy Wife first in thy Shop:  
A fait, kind, sweet Wife, sets a poor Man up;  
What though thy shelves be ne'er so bare,  
A Woman still is currant Ware,  
Each Man will cheapen, Foe and Friend,  
But whilst thou art at th'other end;  
What e'er thou seest, or what dost hear,  
Fool have no eye to, nor no Ear:  
And after Supper for her sake,  
When thou hast fed, snort, though thou wake;  
What though the Gallants call thee Mome,  
Yet with thy Lantern light her home:  
I am confident but will not tell,  
Where such a Citizen doth dwell.    

A Serenade. SONG LXI.  

THou joy of all hearts, and delight of all eyes,  
Nature's chief, and Beauties chief prize;  
Look down you'll discover,  
Here's a faithful young vigorous Lover;  
With a heart full as true  
As e'er languished for you,  
Here's a faithful young vigorous Lover;   

The heart that was once a Monarch in's breast  
Is now your poor Captive, and can have no rest,  
'Twil never give over,  
But about your sweet bosom will hover:  
Dear Miss let it in,  
By Heaven 'tis no sin,  
Here's a faithful young vigorous Lover.    

SONG LXII.  

CLoris when you disperse your influence,  
Your dazzling beams are quick and clear,  
You so surprise and wound the sense,  
So bright a Miracle you appear:  
Admiring Mortals you astonish so,  
No other Deity they know;  
But think that all Divinity's below.   

One charming look from your Illustrious face  
Is able to subdue mankind,  
So sweet, so powerful a grace  
Makes all Men Lovers but the blind:  
Nor can they freedom by resistance gain,  
For each embraces the soft chain;  
And never struggles with the pleasing pain.    

SONG LXIII.  

When first my free heart  
Was inspired by desire,  
So loft 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 far from that Heaven  
Which Lovers possess.   

In Nature was nothing  
That I could compare  
With the beauty of Chloris  
I thought her so fair;  
A Wit so Divine  
All her say did fill,  
A Goddess she seemed;  
And I thought of 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 gods e'er designed.  
She seemed to be mine  
By each glance of her eye,  
If Mortals might aim  
At a blessing so high.  
Each day, with new favours,  
New hopes she did give;  
But alas! what is wished  
We too soon do believe.   

With awful respect  
While I loved, I admired,  
But feared to attempt  
What so much I desired,  
In a moment my Joys  
And my hopes were destroyed,  
A Shepherd more daring  
Fell on and enjoyed:  
Yet in spite of my Fate,  
And the pains I endure,  
In a second Amour  
I will seek for my cure.    

SONG LXIV.  

What does the fair Clariza mean,  
To tantalise her Servant so?  
She frowns, and sweetly smiles again;  
Whence these alternate Fancies flow,  
Flung to know.   

Though they for trivial causes are,  
Each glance to me's a several Fate;  
My Heart's the Ship, her Eye the Star;  
The Port it Sails to, love, or hate,  
Which on her wait.   

When sad Aurora's clouded dress  
Seems to portend a stormy day,  
The dying flowers their heads depress  
But take new Life from Sol's bright Ray,  
I far like they.   

Though Love has made me Reason's Foe  
Some weak reflections still remain,  
Which her deriding scorn do show,  
By which my faults, and her disdain  
I see too plain.   

Yet let her know that still I love;  
If that's presumptuous, I adore:  
But if my Fate uncertain prove,  
And she mysterious, as before,  
I'll love no more.   

To all, but that Divinest she  
My flame shall ever be unknown:  
If just contempt my purchase be;  
My ill success I'll never own  
To more than one.  
Neither favour, nor force, nor fear, nor delight,  
Shall make me discover, if she will but Write.    

SONG LXV.  

BE jolly my friend,  
For the Money we spend  
On Women and Wine, to ourselves we do lend:  
The Lady's embraces,  
And our Carbuncled Faces,  
Will gain us more credit, than the Muses, or the Graces.   

Then Sirrah, be quicker,  
And bring us more Liquor;  
We'll have nothing to do with Physician, or Vicar:  
We'll round with our Bowls,  
Till our passing Bell toll,  
And trust no such Quacks with our Bodies or Souls.    

SONG LXVI.  

CEase Chloris, cease to wonder why  
My cheeks so pale, so dim my eye;  
Admire no more my shortened breath,  
No more foretell m'approaching death:  
For now it only lies in you,  
To make your Omen false, or true.   

From the Physician you in vain  
Inquire the Nature of my pain;  
In vain you weep; for, when you please,  
You, only you can give me ease:  
And none will think you truly grieve  
For one you care not to relieve.   

By meaner passions you endure  
What by a nobler you may cure:  
Change but your Pity into Love,  
And so the cause in both remove.  
This by a strange discovery,  
You'll cheat the World, yourself, and me.    

SONG LXVII.  

AH! fading Joy  
How quickly art thou passed!  
Yet we thy ruin haste;  
And what too soon would die, help to destroy,  
As if the cares of humane Life were few,  
We seek out new,  
And follow Fate, which does too fast pursue.  
In vain does Nature's bounteous hand supply,  
What peevish mortals to themselves deny.   

See how on every Bough the Birds express,  
In 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 Water's fall,  
And with a murmuring sound  
Dash, dash upon the ground,  
To gentle slumbers call.    

SONG LXVIII.  

A Curse on the Zealous and Ignorant crew,  
That languish all day  
And with passion obey  
The senseless decrees that Platonics pursue:  
How poor and unhappy  
Unhappy are those pretenders,  
Who fearless of scandal or vulgarly shame,  
Diminish their flame.   

But blessed is the Man that with freedom enjoys,  
A beauty whose eyes  
Like the Stars in the Skies,  
Produce new delights till his Appetite cloys;  
How happy unhappy  
How happy are these pretenders.  
Who fearless of scandal or vulgar reproach  
Pursues his debauch.   

Elizium's a grief and a torment compared  
To that we can prove  
In enjoyment of Love  
Where Lovers in raptures still meet a reward:  
The tales of the Ancient  
Of future delights are ungrounded,  
In loves kind fruition where Souls have access,  
Oh there's the true bliss.    

SONG LXIX.  

A Dieu my Cordelia, my dearest adieu,  
No passion more slighted, was ever more true,  
No torment severer than this could you prove  
To enjoin him by absence that's chained by your love;  
Subdued by your charms y'inflamed my desire,  
Till a spark from your eyes, set me all on fire;  
O cruelty shown, no offence but Love known  
Exiled and outlawed by a hard hearted Stone.    

SONG LXX.  

OH name not the day lest my senses reprove,  
And curse my poor heart for the knowledge of Love;  
Ah the ignorant fate of a fearful young Lover,  
When a sign is returned not to have Wit to discover:  
To delay a kind Nymph from her hour of design  
Is to dig for a Treasure and sink in the Mine.    

A Musical Instruction for a Young Lady. SONG LXXI.  

TO play upon the Vial if  
A Virgin will begin,  
The first of all she must know her Cliff  
And all the stops therein:  
Her Prick she must hold long enough  
Her Backfalls gently take,  
Her touch must gentle be, not rough,  
At each stroke she must shake.   

She must unto her Bow fly,  
And stick close to her Fiddle,  
Her Feet must hold the lower end  
And her knees must hold the middle:  
Two fingers on the Hair must lie  
And two upon the Back;  
She must ever keep true time,  
And with her Feet it pat.   

And when she hath as she would have  
She must it gently thrust,  
Up, Down, Swift, Slow, at any rate  
As she herself doth list:  
When by experience she doth find  
That she grows something cunning;  
She'll ne'er be contented in her mind  
But whilst the Bow is running.    

SONG LXXII.  

When first my dear Delia my heart did surprise,  
By the attraction of Beauty, and power of her Eyes,  
I trembled and sighed, and steadfastly gazed,  
Until all my thoughts into raptures were raised:  
That Monarch's unworthy who grudges to part,  
With Sceptre and Crown to attain such a Heart.    

SONG LXXIII.  

HOw bonny and brisk, how pleasant and sweet,  
Were Jenny and I while my passion is strong;  
So cagerly each others flame we did meet  
That a minute's 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.   

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 pleasures I gave she did doubly requite  
By finding out ever new ways to delight.   

At last when enjoyment had put out my fire  
My strength was decayed and my passion was done,  
So pall'd 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 does but turn to disdain.    

SONG LXXIV.  

THey call, they call, what voice is that?  
A Lady in despair,  
Whose Tears and Sorrows comes too late,  
Her losses to repair;  
By too much Pride I've lost a heart  
I languish to regain,  
And yet I'd kill the Man I love  
 own my pleasing pain:  
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 Beauty's fate  
Still to repent their Pride too late.    

SONG LXXV.  

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 none but a 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:  
'Tis never the Mode in an amorous Treat,  
When a Lover hath 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're enjoyed  
And with pleasures are cloyed,  
The vows that we made  
To love ever are void:  
And now pretty Nymph it was ever unfit,  
That a meal should be made of a relishing bit.    

SONG LXXVI.  

TYrant thou seekest in vain  
With her pure blood thy guilty Sword to slain,  
Heaven does that sacred blood design  
To be the source of an immortal Line:  
Death will not dare to touch that heart  
Which Love hath chosen for his Dart.   

Chorus.  
Fair Innocence and Beauty are  
Of watchful Heaven the chiefest care,  
But the devouring Monster shall  
A Sacrifice to Justice fall.   

Richmond does fly to your redress  
Love's Messengers can do no less,  
His Sword shall with one blow  
Cut off your Fetters, and Tyrants too:  
All resistance vain will prove  
When valout is inspired by Love.   

Chorus.  
Tyrants by Heaven and Earth are cursed  
They swell with blood until they burst,  
But Lovers are wise Natures care  
What Tyrants ruin they repair.    

SONG LXXVII.  

AST was Walking  
In a May Morning,  
I heard a Bird sing  
Cuckoo.   

Upon a Tree of choice  
She sung with pleasant voice,  
Which made my heart rejoice, Cuckoo.   

She noddled up and down,  
And she swore by her Crown,  
Her Friends lived in this Town,  
Cuckoo.   

All you that Married be  
Come learn this Song of me,  
And so we shall agree to be;  
Cuckoo  
Upon a Tree.    

SONG LXXVIII.  

GOd Cupid's for certain as foolish as blind,  
To settle his heart upon people unkind,  
His punishment's just for not having regard  
To gentle complyers, but ungrateful and hard.  
And you'll find it for ever like Oracle true,  
Love will fly the pursuer, the flyer pursue.   

As shadows do follow those who run away,  
And fly those that follow, as if 'twere at play;  
As Death soon searcheth Men fearing to die,  
From those who wish for him he farthest doth fly.  
So you'll find it for ever like Oracle true,  
Love will fly the pursuer, the flyer pursue.   

If a shade you embrace, you'll find your hands empty,  
If you court a fair face she'll nothing but tempt ye:  
Reciprocal kindness you'll always see missing,  
Returning base scorn, as bad as a hissing.  
So you'll find it for ever like Oracle true,  
Love will fly the pursuer, the flyer pursue.   

The Lovers hard fate is sure from above,  
True love meets disdain, as disdain doth with Love,  
Or else flesh and blood could ne'er be so cruel  
To give gentle flame so dismal a Fuel.   

Chorus.  
Thus you'll find it for ever like Oracle true,  
Love will fly the pursuer, the flyer pursue.    

SONG LXXIX.  

I'd have you quoth he,  
Would you have me quoth she,  
O where Sir?   

In my Chamber quoth he,  
In your Chamber quoth she,  
Why there Sir?   

To kiss you, quoth he,  
To kiss me, quoth she,  
O why Sir?   

'Cause I love it, quoth he,  
Do you love it, quoth she,  
So do I Sir.    

SONG LXXX.  

WHat shall we do?  
When our eyes are surrounded,  
With Beauties like you,  
Our hearts must be wounded.  
If we fly from the War,  
Your Darts do o'ertake us;  
And if we stay there,  
Your Captives you make us:  
Engaging, or flying, weare sure to be slain:  
Then who is so mad, such a Fight to maintain!   

And yet, Oh! how sweet  
Are the wounds of your glances!  
Then nobly we'll meet,  
Though we fall by your Lances:  
When your smiles do evince  
That our Death will be pleasant,  
Better die like a Prince  
Then live like a Peasant:  
If engaging, or flying, we are certain to die  
'Tis courage to fight, and a folly to fly.    

SONG LXXXI.  

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

Ost 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 LXXXII.  

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 cries, some power above,  
Save me from this Tyrant Love.   

Her poor Heart had no defence,  
But it's Maiden innocence;  
In each sweet retiring eye  
You might easily descry:  
Troops of yielding beauties fly;  
Leaving rare unguarded Treasure,  
To the conquerors Will and Pleasure:  
And now she cries, some power above,  
Save me from this Tyrant Love.   

Now, and then, a straggling frown,  
Through the shades skipped up and down,  
Shooting such a piercing dart,  
As would make the Tyrant smart,  
And preserve her Lips and heart:   

But alas her Empire's gone,  
Throne, and Temples all undone:  
And now she cries, some power above,  
Save me from this Tyrant Love.   

Charm aloft, the stormy Winds,  
That may keep these Golden minds,  
And let Spaniard's love be tore,  
On some cruel Rocky Shore;  
Where he'll put to Sea no more.  
Lest 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 LXXXIII.  

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 shame could leave a Print  
Upon a heart of flint;  
Can flesh and stone  
Be e'er converted into one,  
By my poor flame alone?   

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

SONG LXXXIV.  

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 may 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 brought.   

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

A Mad man's Song. LXXXV.  

IN Caves full of Skulls, and rotten old bones,  
There she sighs in the day time, and in the night groans;  
Amongst Hosts of the guilty for ever she'll howl,  
And in beds full of Serpents Eternally roll:  
But I and rene will be merry,  
Amongst happy Lovers we'll play;  
Ah Charon make haste with your Ferry,  
Row hard and I'll double your pay.    

A Dialogue between Sorrow, and one Afflicted. SONG LXXXVI.  Afflict. 
O Sorrow, sorrow, say where dost thou dwell?  Sorrow. 
In the lowest Room of Hell:  Afflict. 
Art thou born of human race?  Sorrow. 
No, no, I have a furious face.  Afflict. 
Art thou of City, Town, or Court?  Sorrow. 
I to every place resort:  Afflict. 
Why? O why?  
Into the World was Sorrow sent?  Sorrow. 
Men afflicted best repent.  Afflict. 
What dost thou seed on?  Sorrow. 
Broken Sleep:  Afflict. 
What tak'st thou pleasure in?  Sorrow. 
To weep,  
To sob, to pine, to groan,  
To wring my hands, and sit alone  Afflict. 
When, O when shall Sorrow quiet have?  
Never, Never, Never,  
Never till she find a Grave.   

SONG LXXXVII.  

Whilst Alexis lay pressed in her Arms he loved best,  
With his hands round her neck, and his head on her breast;  
He found the fierce pleasure too hasty to stay,  
And his Soul in the Tempest just flying away.   

When Celia saw this, with a sigh and a kiss  
She cried, Oh my dear I am robbed of my bliss:  
'Tis unkind to your Love, and unfaithfully done,  
To leave me behind you, and die all alone.   

The youth though in haste, and breathing his last,  
In pity died slowly, whilst she died more fast:  
Till at length she cried, now, my Dear, now let us go;  
Now die my Alexis, and I will die too.   

Thus entranced they did lie, till Alexis did try  
To recover new breath, that again he might die;  
Then often they died, but the more they did so,  
The Nymph died more quick, and the Shepherd more slow.    

The double Health. SONG LXXXVIII.  

TUrn off the Glass 'tis a crime to see't full  
Drinking dead liquor, has made us so dull;  
Let slaves and fanatics be subject to care  
Deep thoughts, and affairs our fierce enemies are.    

On the Death of Mr. Pelham Humphrey. SONG LXXXIX.  

DId you not hear the hideous groans  
The shrieks and heavy moans,  
That spread themselves o'er all the pensive Plain,  
And rend the breast of many a tender Swain;  
'Twas for Amintas dead and gone:  
Sing you forsaken Shepherds, sing his praise  
In careless melancholy Lays,  
Lend him a little doleful breath  
For Amintas, poor Amintas cruel Death:  
'Twas thou that mad'st dead words to live,  
Thou that dead numbers didst inspire  
With charming Voice and tuneful Lyre,  
That Life to all but to thyself couldst give:  
Why couldst thou not thy wondrous art bequeath,  
Poor Amintas, poor Amintas, cruel Death.   

Chorus.  
Sing pious Shepherds, sing while you may  
Before the approaches of the fatal day;  
For you yourselves that sing this mournful Song:  
Alas e'er it be long  
Shall like Amintas breathless be:  
Though more forgotten in the Grave then be.    

SONG XC.  

SUre it is so, then let it go  
Let the giddy-brained times run round,  
Let the Cobbler be crowned,  
And Monarchy thus we recover:  
Let Fools go and Preach,  
And the Apes go and teach,  
And the Clown be the amorous Lover.   

Let Fortune be blind and Love prove unkind  
And a Cobbler as stout as Hector,  
Let Diana turn Whore  
And Excise-men grow poor,  
And a Brewer a second Protector.   

Let the great Epicure no Junkets endure,  
And an excellent Tradesman go hoop Sir,  
Let a Whoremaster hap  
To want a good Clap  
And a Tailor at last turn Trooper.   

Let Merchants want gains  
And Lovers high strains,  
And a Farmer his skill in Cowing,  
Let the Lawyer come down  
To put off his Gown  
And put on his Jacket for Ploughing.   

Let an Ostler want dung  
And an Orator Tongue  
And the Poets a sense of framing,  
Let a Liar want skill  
To have Wit at will,  
And a common shark know no gaming.   

He that ne'er read nor writ  
Shall be the only Wit  
And in these and the like disasters,  
There will none think me rude  
If I boldly conclude  
This is a mad World my Masters.    

SONG XCI.  

'TWas in the pleasant Month of May  
On a Morn by break of day,  
Forth I walked the Woods so wide  
When as May was in her pride;  
There I espied all alone  
Phyllida and Coridon.   

Much ado there was I wots,  
He could love but she could not,  
His Love he said was ever true,  
Nor was mine e'er false to you:  
He said that he had loved her long,  
She said that Love should have no wrong.   

Cwydon would kiss her than  
She said Maids must kiss no Men,  
Till they kiss for good and all  
Than she made the Shepherds call,  
Their fellow Swains to witness sooth  
ne'er was loved so fair a youth.   

Then with many a pretty Oath  
As yea and nay, and Faith and Troth,  
Such as silly Shepherds use  
When they will not love abuse;  
Love that had been long deluded  
Was with kisses sweet concluded:  
And Phillida with Garlands gay  
Was crowned the Lady of the May.    

SONG XCII.  

WHat makes you all so dull  
You lively Lads that love,  
The pleasures of the Plain  
And sport enchanting Jove:  
My jolly Muse  
Brings other News  
And time invites to go,  
Fill Nectar's Cup  
The Hare is up,  
We come to sing, so, ho.   

My Pipe is of the pure  
Cane of the Winter Corn,  
By force of Cynthia's lure  
Transformed into a Horn:  
Aurora's look  
Hath changed my crook,   

Into a bended Bow,  
And Pan shall keep  
My patiented Sheep  
While here we sing, so, ho.   

Let us like Swains  
That only undergoes,  
The pleasures of the Plains  
In place where Boreas blows:  
And every Night  
Take our delight  
With our she-friend and so:  
Both night and day  
We'll sport and play  
And merrily sing, so, ho.    

SONG XCIII.  

THe Glories of our Birth and State  
Are shadows not substantial things,  
There is no Armour 'gainst our Fate  
Death lays his Icy hands on Kings,  
Sceptre and Crown  
Must tumble down  
And in the Dust be equal laid,  
With the poor crooked Sith and Spade.   

Some Men with Swords may reap the Field  
And plant fresh Laurels where they kill,  
But their strong Nerves at length must yield,  
They tame but one another still:  
Early or late  
They stoop to Fate  
And must give up their murmuring breath,  
Whilst the pale Captive creeps to death.   

The Laurel withers on your Brow  
Then boast to more your mighty deeds,  
For on Death's Purple Altar now  
See where the Victor Victim bleeds;  
All Heads must come  
To the cold Tomb,  
Only the Actions of the just  
Smell sweet and blossom in the Dust.    

SONG XCIV.  

When Aurelia first I courted  
She had Youth and Beauty too,  
Killing Pleasures when she sported  
And her charms were ever new:  
Conquering time hath now deceived her,  
Which her Glory did uphold,  
All her Arts can ne'er retrieve her  
Poor Aurelia's growing old.   

Those airy Spirits which invited  
Are retired and move no more,  
And those Eyes are now benighted  
Which were Comets heretofore:  
Want of these abate her Merits  
Yet I have passion for her Name;  
Only warm and vigorous Spirits  
Kindle and maintain her flame.    

SONG XCV.  

STill to be neat, still to be dressed  
As you were going to a Feast,  
Still to be Powdered, still Perfumed,  
Lady it is to be presumed;  
Though Arts hid causes are not found,  
All is not sweet, all is not sound.   

Give me a look give me a face  
That makes simplicity a grace,  
Robes sweetly flowing, Hair as free,  
Such sweet neglect more taketh me:  
Then all the Adulteries of Art  
They wound mine eyes but not my heart.    

Strephon and Daphne. SONG XCVI.  Strephon. 
COme my Daphne come away  
We do waste the Crystal day,  
'Tis Strephon calls,  Daphne. 
What would my Love?  Strephon. 
Come follow to the Myrtle Grove,  
Where I with Venus will prepare  
New Chaplets to adorn thy Hair.  Daphne. 
Strephon were I shut in this Tree  
I'd rend the Bark to follow thee.  Strephon. 

My Shepherdess make hast  
The minutes fly too fast:  
Let's to those cooler shades where I,  
Blind as Cupid in thine eye,  
Betwixt thy Breasts will ever stray,  
In such warm Snows  
Who would not lose his way?   

Chorus.  
we'll laugh and leave the World behind,  
Those Gods themselves that see  
Shall envy thee and me  
And never taste such joy,  
When they embrace a Deity.    

SONG XCVII.  

Why should we not laugh and be jolly  
Since all the World is mad  
And lulled in a dull Melancholy,  
He that wallows in store  
Is still gaping for more,  
And that makes him as poor  
As the wretch that ne'er any thing had.   

How mad is that damned Money-monger  
That to purchase to him and his Heirs,  
Grows shrivelled with thirst and hunger,  
While we that are bonny  
Buy Sack with ready Money  
And ne'er trouble the Scrivener's Lawyers.   

Those Gulls that by scraping and toiling  
Do swell their Revenues so fast,  
Get nothing by all their turmoiling,  
But are marks for each Tax,  
While they load their own backs,  
With the heavier packs  
And lie down galled and weary at last.   

While we that do traffic in tipple,  
Can baffle the Gown and the Sword,  
Whose Jaws are so hungry and gripple,  
We ne'er trouble our heads  
With Indentures or Deeds  
And our Wills are composed in a word.   

Our Money shall never-indite us  
Nor drag our free minds to thrall,  
Nor Pirates nor Wracks can affright us,  
We that have no Estates,  
Fear no Plunder nor Rates  
We can sleep with open Gates  
He that lies on the ground cannot fall.   

We laugh at those Fools whose endeavours  
Do but fit them for Prisons and Fines,  
When we that spend all are the saviours,  
For if Thiefs do break in  
They go out empty again  
And the Plunderers lose their designs.   

Then let us not think on to morrow  
But tipple and laugh while we may,  
To wash from our hearts all sorrow,  
Those Cormorants which  
Are troubled with an Itch  
To be mighty and rich  
Do but toil for the Wealth which they borrow.   

The Mavor of the Town with his Ruff on  
What a P— is he better than we,  
He must veil to the Man with his Buff on;  
Though he Custard may eat  
And such lubbarly Meat,  
Yet our Sack makes us merrier than he.    

SONG XCVIII.  

NO I will sooner trust the Wind  
When falsely kind  
It courts the pregnant Sails into a Storm;  
And when the smiling Waves persuade  
Be willingly betrayed,  
Then thy deceitful Eyes or Form.   

Go and beguile some easy heart  
With thy vain Art,  
Thy smiles and kisses on those Fools bestow;  
Who only see the calms that sleep  
On this smooth flattering deep,  
But not the hidden dangers know.   

They that like me this falsehood prove  
Will scorn thy Love,  
Some may deceived at first adore thy Shrine,  
But he that as they Sacrifice  
Doth willingly fall twice  
Dies his own Martyr and not thine.    

SONG XCIX.  

BEauty and Love once fell at odds  
And thus reviled each other,  
Said Love I am one of the gods  
And you wait on my Mother:  
Thou hast no power o'er Men at all  
But what I gave to thee;  
Nor are thou longer fair or sweet  
Then Men acknowledge thee.   

Away fond Boy, than Beauty said,  
We know that thou art blind,  
But Men have knowing eyes and can  
My Graces better find:  
IT was I begot thee, Mortals know,  
And called thee Blind Desire;  
I made thy Quiver and thy Bow  
And Wings to kindle fire.   

Love then in anger flew away  
And strait to Vulcan prayed,  
That he would tip his shafts with scorn  
To punish this proud Maid  
Thus Beauty ever since hath been  
But courted for an hour,  
To love a day is now a sin  
'Gainst Cupid and his power.    

A Dialogue betwixt Neptune and Apollo occasioned by the death of the Earl of Sandwich. SONG C.  Apol. 

I Charge thee Neptune as thou art just resign,  
The most admired Sandwich, which is mine,  
Whose loss creates a discord in the Spheres  
And turns our melody to groans and tears.   Nept. 
Forbear to ask what is unjust to grant,  
Thy charge and my desins are dissonant;  
He's mine by conquest what is thy pretence?  Apol. 
In Music his unequalled Excellence.  Nept. 
Heroic parts, I gave him, taught him how,  
With thundering Canon; and a furrowed Brow;  
To rule the surface of my Realm.  Apol. 
And I  
By a Magnetic power in Harmony,  
Made him a Conqueror to overcome,  
All Souls that loved or liked Elysium.  Nept. 

Thy Seat is pleasant there all sweets do dwell,  
But mine with rage and horror only swell:  
Which lately is increased since Sandwich sent,  
So many Religions to my Element,  
Whose Emulation to a Prince's Throne  
Makes me keep Sandwich to preserve my own.   

Chorus.  
We'll sing his Requiem by some murmuring Brook,  
On which as th' Emblem of our grief we look:  
And with our tears increase it to a Main;  
Then sigh and weep till Sandwich come again,  
Or else we never, never will refrain.    

The Quakers Song, CI.  

YE she-friends and he-friends whoever inherit,  
Infallible Light in dark Lantern of Spirit,  
Come prick up your Ears and behold I will fit ye,  
With an Hymn that is called by the Wicked a Dirty.   

In the scuffle we lately have had with the Baptist,  
Wherein both our honour and interest wrapped is,  
Though our Logic perhaps be too weak to dispute 'em  
We hope by a Ballad at least to confute 'em.   

For though Fiddle and Organs are both Babylonish,  
Wherewith the Profane delighted alone is,  
Yet in such a case Inspiration may haunt  
Even us which are perfect to warble a chant.   

Then let us a while our trembling lay by;  
And quit our still meetings to set up a cry,  
Let's challenge and Rant, talk loud and be bold  
For the Spirit at present doth move us to scold.   

'Tis time to exclaim as receiving the wrong,  
And take up that carnal Weapon the Tongue;  
For if we delay, our whole party must sink,  
And our long boasted light go out in a stink.   

Our juggling's so plain, will appear that each eye  
Through the Mask of our holy pretences will spy,  
And see that a Quaker when stripped of his paint  
Is nearer of Kin to an Atheist than Saint.   

Then let us equivocate neatly and lay  
A plausible meaning on all that we say,  
And the very same Art that serves to excuses  
At once shall condemn all those that accuse us.   

This being done we point time and place  
And come full prepared to bandy the case,  
In the Barbican first we gave them a meeting,  
And never was seen such a Bear-Garden greeting.   

A Rabble thrust in from each end of the Town  
And before half an Argument could be laid down,  
In less time than a Man can a pot of Ale swallow  
'Twas confirmed with a hoop, and denied with a hollow.   

The place like a Hothouse appeared, and by hap  
some Friends might be cured here of a Clap;  
And if it were so I cannot but say  
'Twas the best effect of our meeting that day.   

For once more have at 'em, for without doubt  
If we cannot confute we must tyre them out;  
And therefore sent word they were cowardly Lubbars,  
If they would not in Spittle-fields venture a Rubbers.   

Four hours and more we dispute in and out  
To know what it was we should dispute about,  
Which yet at the last was never agreed  
But no matter for that we resolved to proceed.   

'Twould have made Puss laugh, or Child in the Chrisomes,  
To hear us chop Logic and talk Syllogisms;  
That Spiritual Canting of Naylor and's brood  
Should Apostatise thus into Figure and Mood.   

To see holy seed so grand a designer  
As to turn Yea and Nay into Major and Minor,  
Use Language o'th' Beast Concedo or Perge,  
And tickle their Tobies at length with an Ergo.   

At first they came on like huffing Philistines  
And needs would attempt to prove us no Christians:  
When most by our wranglings already thought much  
To believe that in truth either of us were such.   

All Dialogues we cried down as profane  
Though divers of us had writ in that strain;  
But that by a Figure must be understood  
Making things bad in others, in us to be good.   

But let Friends take notice how basely they wrong us.  
By suggesting a Papist God bless us among us;  
For there was no need of that I must tell ye,  
Since each of us carries his Pope in his Belly.   

Ourselves to be Christians we loudly declare  
But avoid the contest to prove that we are:  
For we find that our interest doth better agree,  
To be counted Christians then truly to be.   

Yet inveigled at last by a kind of a Wile  
We were drawn into what we had shunned all the while;  
But still we are safe (though shrewdly put to't)  
For when all things fail, Inspiration can do't.   

To this than we fly though certain it be,  
Old Mahomet had as much claim to't as we;  
However it serves to ward off a blow  
For who shall refute what no Man can know.   

For if Folks would have Wonders or Miracles done,  
We confess we can instance at present but one,  
That so many should Scripture and reason forsake  
And in our ridiculous whimsies partake.   

But though in good Form we would argue no more,  
We went on with bawling as high as before,  
For we knew that the Crowd would the glory afford,  
To him that spoke loudest and had the last word.   

To prove that we did our Antagonist beat  
'Tis enough for to say that we made them retreat,  
And charged them bravely when we had done  
In the Bear with an Echo they run Friends they run.   

And to show that our Ammunition of Lungs,  
Was yet not all spent nor weary our Tongues,  
After this we began another new quoil  
And fell all a Preaching in Rank and in file.   

Thus in brief a strange clutter we kept and a stir  
But what good came on't if I know I'm a Cur,  
Only people went home some sick and some lame,  
But all of them just as wise as they came.    

SONG CII.  

THou fair Usurper of my Fate  
Tell me what my Lot shall be,  
Must I languish at this rate  
Without hope or help from thee;  
And am I damned a slave to be,  
Unto a truckling destiny.   

Or is your Love that poison grown  
Which inflicts those fatal Darts,  
Which the god of Love alone  
Did form for false rebellious hearts:  
And must none then approach thy Love  
But those who Martyrdom will prove.   

Hadst thou thy liberty preserved  
And still a nobler Sovereign been,  
At what a rate hadst thou been served  
When all thy Slaves had Rivals been;  
Nay gods themselves had quit their sway  
Proud of the glory to obey.   

But stay, my passion grows too bold  
Seeking your honour thus to slain,  
It shows that Loyalty grows cold  
When Subjects for reward complain:  
Henceforth my passions shall declare  
No perfect Love without despair.    

SONG CIII.  Man. 

WHy Phillis to me so untrue and unkind,  
Remember the Vow which you made,  
Though Love cannot see, let not honour be blind  
Whereon is the other betrayed.   Woman. 

Though Sir to your Bed true Allegiance I vowed,  
I am not obliged by that Oath:  
No longer than you keep both constant and true,  
The same Vow obligeth us both.   Man. 

Fair Nymph did you feel but those passions I bear,  
My Love you would never suspect;  
A heart made of steel must needs love the fair,  
And what we love cannot neglect.   

Chorus.  
Then since we love both  
Let us both be agreed  
And seal both our Loves with a kiss;  
From breaking our Oath  
We shall both then be freed,  
A Princess shall envy our bliss.    

SONG CIV.  

SInce Coelia's my Foe  
To a Desert I'll go,  
Where some River  
For ever  
Shall Echo my Woe;  
The Trees will appear  
More relenting than her,  
The Morning  
Adorning  
Each Leaf with a Tear.   

When I make my sad moan  
To the Rocks all alone,  
From each hollow  
Will follow  
A pitiful groan:  
But with silent disdain  
She requites all my pain,  
To my mourning  
Returning  
No answer again.   

Then Celia adieu  
When I cease to pursue,  
You'll discover  
No Lover  
Was ever so true:  
Your sad Shepherd flies  
From those dear cruel eyes  
Who not seeing  
His being  
Decays and he dies.   

But it's better to run  
From the Fate we can't shun,  
Then for ever  
To endeavour  
What cannot be won:  
What ye Gods have I done,  
That Amintas alone,  
Is so treated  
And hated  
For loving but one?    

SONG CV.  

DIsputes daily arise and errors grow bolder,  
Philosophers prattle how greedy's the Miser;  
The more we should know then by being the older,  
But plainly it appears there's no body wiser:  
He that spends what he has and wisely drinks all,  
'Tis he is the Man Mathematical.    

SONG CVI  

NO, no, 'tis in vain  
Though I sigh and complain,  
Yet the secret I'll never reveal;  
The wrack shall not tear it  
From my Breast but I'll bear it  
To the Grave where it ever shall dwell:  
Oh would that the gods had created her low  
And placed thee poor Hylas above,  
Then, then, I a present might freely bestow  
Of a heart that is all over Love.   

Like the damned from the Fire  
We may gaze and admire,  
Yet never can hope to be blest;  
Oh the pangs of a Lover  
That dares not discover  
The poison that's lodged in his Breast:  
Like a Deer that is wounded I bleeding run on  
And fain I the torture would hid,  
But Oh 'tis in vain, for where ever I run  
The bloody Dart sticks in my side.    

SONG CVII.  

HAd Daphne Honour, Wealth or Fame,  
Thou hadst some colour for thy flame;  
Or were she young she might excite  
Thy lustful thoughts to appetite:  
Were she or beautiful, or good,  
She unawares might fire thy blood;  
But being neither rich, young, chaste, nor fair,  
To love is Dotage, Frenzy to Despair.    

SONG CVIII.  

NO Joys like to those of a new married Bride,  
Who freely does make her own choice,  
Where nothing but innocent Love doth abide  
Whilst with her kind Bedfellow she doth rejoice:  
Long may they continue in such pleasant charms  
With faithful embroces in each others Arms.   

The sprightly young Bridegroom tastes of this bliss,  
The day with their Friends they do spend;  
At night with great freedom they hug and they kiss,  
Both thinking that night will soon have an end.  
Long may they continue in such pleasant charms  
With saithful embraces in each others Arms.   

The fruits of their pleasure they both do desire,  
Which after nine Months they may find;  
Both hope for an Offspring just like the own Sire,  
And pray to Lucina that she will be kind.  
Long may they continue in such pleasant charms  
With faithful embraces in each others Arms.   

He never is pleased when his Bride's out of sight,  
She likewise his presence doth crave,  
So great is their Love and so sweet their delight,  
One absent, the other no pleasure can have:  
Long may they continue in such pleasant charms  
With faithful embraces in each others Arms.   

A happy success to so faithful a pair,  
Can never be wanting be sure;  
Much wealth and great honour to such as they are,  
Will flow in a pace and for ever endure:  
Long may they continue in such pleasant charms  
With faithful embraces in each others Arms.   

Long life will attend them till hoary old Age  
Does call them to lie down to rest,  
Cold Death with cold blood, then will gently engage.  
And send them toth' Grave and their Souls to be blest.  
Thus still they continue secure from harms,  
Both lie in one Coffin in each others Arms.   

That couple is blest, who thus happily meet  
Prosperity hedges them round,  
Their embraces are pleasant, their kisses are sweet,  
Delights of all sorts all their Life will abound.  
Long may they continue in such pleasant charms  
With faithful embraces in each others Arms.   

But those that do marry for Money, not Love  
Will never have peace in their mind,  
They unto each other a sorrow will prove  
And troublesome days they for ever will find:  
May those never meet, who do marry for Gold  
Where Love at a price in a Market is sold.   

In discord and envy they ever will live,  
Each day will beget a new strife;  
Whilst angry words they to each other give  
The Wife blames the Man, and the Man blames his Wife.  
May those never meet, who do marry for Gold  
Where Love at a price in a Market is sold.   

She cries he done't love her, he swears she's a scold,  
She finds his affections are dull,  
Which causes her love in like manner grow cold  
She vows to be peevish as he to the full:  
May those never meet, who do marry for Gold  
Where Love at a price in a Market is sold.   

And since from her Husband she finds no delight,  
It makes her abroad for to range,  
She resolves in her heart to keep out of his sight,  
For Women by Nature are subject to change:  
May those never meet, who do marry for Gold  
Where Love at a price in a Market is sold.   

Then jealous he grows which perplexes his Soul,  
And out of revenge she does horn him,  
Whatever he says she resolves to control,  
And replies with a frown, he's a fool and she scorns him.  
May those never meet, who do marry for Gold  
Where Love at a Price in a Market is sold.    

SONG CIX.  

COme all you Gallants that live near the Court,  
Unto the brisk Dames of the City resort;  
There's none of your Misses can show you such sport,  
As we, who for you do complain.   

Some of our Husbands do live such dull lives,  
So plunged in care, and for Wealth so contrives;  
That scarce one Night in ten lie close to their Wives,  
Which makes us so much to complain.   

Betimes in the Morning abroad they do run,  
Leaving their Wives in their beds alone,  
Not minding that business which should be first done,  
Which makes us so much to complaio.   

Though many have Dullards, yet I have got one,  
That keeps a young Miss who hath his heart won,  
For she sucks the Marrow, and I pick the Bone,  
Which makes me full sore to complain.   

Since so he disdains me, a Miss for to keep,  
Soon into the favour of Gallants I'll creep;  
Who shall the fore-room of Love's Treasury sweep,  
And then let the Cuckold complain.   

I'll buy me new Towers, laced Gowns of the best,  
To the view of kind Lovers lay open my breast;  
So by that they may know my mind to the rest:  
And my languishing eyes shall complain.   

I care not to tell you the place where I dwell,  
But I go by the name of, Bright Madam Bell;  
Because I love Clappers that makes me sound well,  
Of which I will never complain.   

When I by my Art had learned the right way,  
With Gallants and Tradesmen to sport and to play,  
I'll tell you how many there came in one day;  
And I had no cause to complain.   

The first that attempted my Love for to win,  
An old Gamester at Court long time he had been,  
For he knew the right way to play at Inn and Inn,  
Who made me leave off to complain.   

When from me he went, a Swordman soon got,  
A sight of my Face, and if I'd deny not,  
He would venture a pass if he died on the spot,  
And I had no cause to complain.   

As pretty an Archer as ever had been,  
Made me stand for his Butt, and thought it no sin;  
Quite up to the Feathers to shoot his Dart in,  
Then I had no cause to complain.   

Another brave Archer, a swaggering Spark,  
Though the Curtains were drawed, and I lay i'th' dark,  
Yet he took such aim that he hit the right mark;  
And of him I will never complain.   

The next that approached was a Surgeon of Spain,  
Who drew outhis Lancet to open my vein,  
Which neatly he did, and ne'er put me to pain;  
And I had no cause to complain.   

A very rich Merchant gave me Jewels fine,  
With many choice dainties and good store of Wine;  
To let him once dig in my hidden Mine,  
And of which I cannot complain.   

My passionate Landlord would not be content,  
Until he had gained his Tenant's consent,  
He had one minutes pleasure for fifty week's Rent,  
No Cuckold of that can complain.   

A Gentleman came that did once live at Bow,  
He out of my Shop vowed never to go,  
Until he had been in my Warehouse below,  
And of which I could not complain.   

A lusty stout Captain laid siege to my Fort,  
For he knew by my looks I loved the sport,  
And he had a Gun gave such a report:  
That I could not at all complain.   

The last was a Doctor well skilled in the Law,  
I inflamed his blood, which made him to draw;  
But my young Man peeped through the Keyhole and saw,  
Which made me to fear he'd complain.   

When his Master next Morning was gone to the Strand  
For to make him amends I quickly began,  
For I let him do, as did the last Man:  
Then vowed he would never complain.   

And now to conclude I bid you all adien,  
For I never will yield to love above two,  
The Master, and Man, which my business can do,  
For more I will never complain.    

SONG CX.  

GOd Cupid for ever,  
I desire thy poor Quiver  
And will never regard thy weak Bow;  
Thy Arrows can't hit me  
Nor a Woman out-wit me  
I am free from that pitiful woe:  
Since my Jenny proves false, all her Sex I defy,  
And I'll riot with Bacchus all night,  
And laugh at the power of thy blind Deity  
Full Glasses shall be my delight.   

'Tis a great piece of folly  
For to live melancholy  
And with whining young Lovers complain,  
If a Miss prove unkind  
I can alter my mind  
And another more loving obtain.  
To a peevish young slut I will ne'er be confined  
Whilst liberty I may enjoy;  
No generous Mortal was ever designed  
His freedom that way to destroy.   

Then blest be the hour  
I was freed from the power  
Of Cupid that silly young Boy,  
Yet I will not deny  
But sometimes by the by  
The short pleasures of Love I'll enjoy:  
That minutes delight being past, I am gone  
And free from the Nymph and her charms,  
Then happily meeting some other alone  
I pleasantly die in her Arms.   

Had Jenny been Loyal  
I had ne'er had the Trial  
Of any but she all my Life,  
Full oft have I told her  
Which made her the bolder  
That I purposed to make her my Wife:  
But she like a Wanton must needs be a Whore  
So eager and hot was her flame,  
Which made me to swear I would love her no more  
But laugh at her folly and shame.    

SONG CXI.  

OH Caelia come tell me now  
Why you your own pleasures delay,  
How oft have you heard me vow  
That I loved you both night and day:  
You seemingly grant my desire  
Yet just at the push you're unkind;  
Which kindles an amorous fire  
And tortures a generous mind.   

If that your love be such  
That will with my humour agree,  
I know you will not grudge  
To venture yourself with me:  
You will me shall equally share  
The delights we together create;  
Why should we then longer forbear  
Enjoyment oft happens too late.   

Then may you wish in vain  
For what you do now refuse,  
Then must you bear the pain  
Because you did reason abuse:  
Take it then whilst you may  
The present time's always the best;  
What hinders but that this day  
With joys be ever blest.   

Nature does now command  
To take our sweet delight,  
How can you her withstand  
Who says it must be this night:  
Love does affirm the same  
And reason doth make it appear;  
To delay our sport is a shame  
What causeth you then to fear.   

Come by this kiss you shall  
Nay prithee now be not coy,  
By my life now or not at all  
We'll try for to get a boy:  
I by your Eyes can descry  
Though faintly you bid me forbear;  
That you love it as well as I,  
Therefore pretty Rogue forbear.    

Calia's Answer. SONG CXII.  

I Have heard your amorous Tone  
And now I do understand,  
If that you had me alone  
You'd make me obey your command:  
Those kindnesses which I do grant.  
May make you expect I'm a Whore;  
Those favours treaster you'll want  
For I'll never be kind any more.   

My Love to your person is such  
That it won't with your humour agree,  
And I fear I have loved you too much  
Except you had more honesty;  
Now that which you call a delight  
Pray keep to yourself and be hanged;  
If by force you do put me to fright  
I'll swear you shall sound be banged.   

I never shall wish for that  
Which afterwards I shall repent,  
I know what you fain would be at  
But without it you must be content:  
I am not i'th' mind for to take  
That thing you'd so willingly give;  
There's another bargain to make  
For honestly I will live.   

Nature says no such thing  
Nor will she so basely command,  
That I such dishonour should bring  
On myself, since I can you withstand;  
But Love may do much I confess  
Where folly doth reason blind;  
But I never to you did express  
That I was so foolishly kind.   

Go, go you are wantonly bend  
And I hate for to hear you swear,  
Except I do find you repent  
Your company I shall forbear;  
Your mark you have taken amiss  
Believe me when truth I do tell;  
Be thankful for this one kiss  
And so pretty fool farewel.    

Latin. SONG CXIII.  

NUnc bibito totum  
Nam est bene notum  
Quod pocula plena de vine;  
Cor faciunt jucundum  
Si fuerit immundum  
Sic Romulus dixit Quirino:  
Rex Vivat laetanter, vos omnes clamate,  
Qui non vult habebit in sinum,  
Jam bibe, tunc singulis vitrum date,  
Cantabitur ad Mutatinum.    

English. SONG CXIV.  

NOw drink it all off  
For 'tis known well enough  
That brimmers of excellent Wine,  
Will make the heart glad  
Be it never so sad  
So Romulus said to Quirine:  
Now merrily all cry, God bless the King,  
He that drinks not shall have it in's breast,  
To every one see a full Glass you bring  
And we'll sing till the Morn without rest.    

A Catch. SONG CXV.  

COme come bonny boys  
Come away, make haste, come away,  
We'll prove that our joys  
Can admit of no tedious delay:  
To the Tavern let's go and be merry,  
With White-wine, brisk Claret and Sherry;  
Our Dads are in Heaven we need not to fear  
Because they have left us some hundreds a year.    

Latin. SONG CXVI.  

PLus scio quam Apollo,  
Nam illo dormitante  
Vidi aftra  
Pugnantia,  
Vulcano lachrymante.   

Mars Venere concubuit  
Muliere libidinesa:  
Vulcanus vidit,  
Illam deridet,  
Tunc fuit ●diosa.    

English. SONG CXVII.  

I Know more than Apollo,  
For whilst that he lay sleeping.  
I saw the Stars  
At mortal jars,  
And Valcan he lay peeping.   

And Mars he lay with Venus  
A pretty wanton Woman,  
But Vulcan saw  
And did her claw  
That now she's fit for no Man.    

SONG CXVIII.  

GReat Love to thy Deity, praises I'll sing,  
A Requiem to sorrow because thou didst bring;  
Thy power I'll own, for why thou hast freed me  
From those desperate passions the Fates had decreed me:  
A Heart hard as stone and conquering beauty  
Must bend to Love's bow with Allegiance and duty.   

Love's secret embraces who ever hath known  
When the bloods young and warm, and youth's blossom new blown,  
To the god of that Love will certainly pay  
His humble Devotious by night and by day:  
A heart hard as stone, and a conquering beauty  
Must bend to his bow with Allegiance and duty.   

Love's humble and meek, Love's gentle and sweet,  
Not moved with fresh passion when frowns he doth meet;  
He conquers by favours and wins by degrees  
He's partial to none for no Mortal he sees:  
A heart hard as stone and conquering beauty  
Must bend to his bow with Allegiance and duty.   

The attraction of beauty may charm for a while,  
And Man of his freedom does often beguile;  
Admiring those features which do but ensnare  
Till at length to our Foes sure Captives we are:  
But a heart hard as stone and conquering beauty,  
Must bend to Love's bow with Allegiance and duty.   

When beauty presumes and resolves for to slight  
All offers of Love and in Pride takes delight,  
The sighs and the groans of a desperate Lover  
With cruel disdain she endeavours to smother:  
But a heart hard as stone and conquering beauty  
Must bend to Love's bow with Allegiance and duty.   

Fair Venus Love's Queen doth his Arrows prefer,  
Before the keen Sword of the great god of War;  
Mars conquers but boa●es, but Love's darts they are such,  
Those Souls they subdue which they happen to touch:  
A heart hard as stone and conquering beauty  
Must bend to Love's bow with Allegiance and duty.   

The scornful young Nymph that will searce take a kiss,  
But counts her disdain a peculiar bliss;  
Poor Strephon alas doth so wound by her hate  
That Cupid takes pity and she now is his mate:  
Thus a heart hard as stone and conquering beauty  
Must bend to his bow with Allegiance and duty.   

Those great Men of War who do count Love a toy  
And to amorous Courtship do ever seem coy;  
Yet at one time or other they are forced to yield  
And think kisses more pleasant than the Ensigns i'th' Field:  
Thus hearts hard as stone and conquering beauty  
Must bend to Love's bow with Allegiance and duty.   

The Country Swain that is always in labour  
And ne'er knew no Joys but a Pipe and a Tabor,  
Now at length casts an Eye on some Joan of his crew  
Then Love slips betwixt them and both doth subdue:  
A heart hard as stone and conquering beauty  
Must bend to his bow with Allegiance and duty.   

The Man of old Age who death doth expect,  
And all the World's vanities strives to neglect;  
Yet often we find him with Love to be catcht,  
Then to a young Damsel he needs must be matched:  
For a heart hard as stone and conquering beauty,  
Must bend to his bow with Allegiance and duty.   

Let the old and the young ones, the rich and the poor,  
The name and the power of Cupid adore;  
Since none can escape or be free from his darts  
Which cunningly he doth convey to our hearts:  
A heart hard as stone and conquering beauty  
Must bend to his bow with Allegiance and duty.    

SONG CXIX.  

WHen youth do agree  
To be merry and free,  
Let no one repine their enjoyment to see;  
For equal's the pleasure which is to be had  
Betwixt a young Lass and a lively young Lad.   

Time swiftly doth run  
And old Age it will come,  
Our days are half spent  our pleasure's begun;  
The present time's best, therefore take't whilst you may,  
Who knows but out sorrows begin the next day.   

He that always is sad  
Must expect to be mad,  
Good Wine and good company make the heart glad;  
The daily fruition of which will create  
Desights, and prevent our complaining of Fate.   

'Tis folly not Fate  
Does troubles create  
Then let us avoid it before 'tis too late;  
Be jolly dear hearts for our Life's but a span,  
And a hundred years hence we may love if we can.   

Then give me a Lass  
And good Wine a full glass,  
The drowsy Mechanicks a temperate Ass:  
He studies to get but he knows not for who  
Thus daily his trouble he seeks to pursue.   

Perhaps when he's old  
And his blood is grown cold,  
He weds a young Whore, a Thief, and a Scold;  
Who spends all he has and is ever at strife,  
And calls him old Cuckold though she be his Wife.   

Which makes him complain  
But alas all in vain  
For no better content he is like to obtain;  
Then sighing he cries, oh the fault was my own  
For to pass by the pleasures I once might have known   

I may sit and repent  
But must be content  
Since now 'tis too late what is past to prevent;  
This happens to greedy Curmudgeons who spend  
Their youth to hoard up for their ruins i'th' end.    

SONG CXX.  

THe World is grown mad and turned upside down,  
And to all that have sense it it easily known;  
Their Words and their Actions do daily declare,  
How far from civility moved they are;  
The custom of Wedlock some would turn out of door,  
And argue 'tis better to trade with a Whore.   

What offspring then may we expect for to meet,  
When Men pick up Wenches they meet in the street;  
For a groats worth of Brandy or Alebeing wild,  
The silly young wanton is gotten with child:  
Then with a great confidence swear to your face,  
That they have best luck who are Bastards by race.   

Thus do they proceed to the fourth generation,  
The spurious issue of base reprobation;  
Just Cat after kind, like Father and Mother,  
They take their debaucheries one from another:  
Till Tyburn at last puts an end to their game  
For thither they are Carted together with shame.   

Now those that are guilty I fain would advise  
To take my good counsel and learn to be wise,  
You young Men wed Lasses of equal degree,  
Then may you expect ever happy to be:  
For those who live honest are blessings in store,  
But curses for such as do Trade with a Whore.   

A Wife that is honest, virtuous, and fair,  
Is a Jewel whose worth is beyond all compare;  
All day she's a comfort, and in bed a delight,  
Her company's pleasant by day and by night:  
Your Children with joy you may ever behold  
They'll honour you both if you live to be old.   

But he that doth Company keep with a Whore,  
Shall never be happy but ever be poor;  
And for one Minute's pleasure if it be to be found,  
The whole days delight in that minute is drowned:  
For she still will crave till no more thou canst give,  
Thus with her in sorrow thou ever wilt live.    

SONG CXXI.  

HAppy is the Man that takes delight  
In banqueting the senses,  
That drinks all day and then at night  
The height of joy commences:   

With bottles Armed westand our ground  
Full bumpers crown our blisses  
We sing and roar the streets around  
In Serenading Misses.   

Pleasure's thus free and unconfined  
No drowsy crime reproaches,  
No Heaven to a Frolic mind  
No pleasures like debauches:  
Whilst rambling thus, new joys we reap  
In charms of Love and drinking;  
Insipid Fops lie drowned in sleep  
And the Cuckold he lies thinking.    

SONG CXXII.  

HOw severe is Fate to break a Heart  
That never went a roving,  
To torture it with endless smart  
For too much constant loving:  
I bleed, I bleed, I melt away,  
And I wash my watery pillow;  
I range the Woods alone all day  
And I wrap me round in Willow.    

SONG CXXIII.  

HOw cruel is Fortune grown  
To turn all my hopes to despair,  
From bliss I am headlong thrown  
And banished the fight of my Dear:  
Grant me some pity kind Heaven  
To my sorrows afford some relief;  
Or let my poor Soul be given  
A Martyr unto my grief.    

SONG CXXIV.  

A Curse on impertinent Age  
The pleasures of youth to invade,  
The cheats that have long been broke  
Have impudence still to Trade:  
Awake my fair Celia betimes  
Before the sweet youth's undone;  
Come show thy delights in a breast  
Will yield thee a thousand for one.   

I'll bring thee hot youth and love  
Come mingle thy fire with mine,  
We'll serve for the Stars above  
And make them ashamed for to shine:  
Come down to my plentiful Feast  
Lie picking of Bones no more;  
The scraps of a dish ill dressed  
Or the leave of many a Whore.    

SONG CXXV.  

POor Corydon thy flames remove  
I pity thee but cannot love,  
Yet I find there is something in every Vein,  
Which moves me to love could I meet with a Swain  
Were honest and kind  
Were loving and kind  
I could love him again.    

SONG CXXVI.  

NEver more will I protest,  
To love a Woman but in jest,  
For as they cannot be true,  
So to give each Man his due;  
When the wooing fit is passed  
Their affections cannot last.   

Therefore if I chance to meet  
With a Mistress fair and sweet,  
She my favour shall obtain  
Loving her for Love again;  
Thus much liberty I crave  
Not to be a constant slave.   

For when we have tried each other  
If she better like another,  
Let her quickly change for me  
Then to change am I as free;  
He or she that loves too long  
Sell their freedom for a Song.    

SONG CXXVII.  

AS Amoretta with Phillis sat  
One Evening on the Plain,  
And saw the charming Strephon wait  
〈◊〉 tell the Nymph his pain;  
〈…〉 danger to remove  
She whispered in her Ear,  
Ah Phillis if you cannot love  
The Shepherd do not hear,  
The Shepherd do not hear.   

None ever had so strange an Art  
His passion to convey,  
Into a listening Virgins heart  
And steal her Soul away;  
Fly, fly, betimes for fear you give  
Occasion to your Fate;  
In vain quoth she in vain you strive,  
Alas! 'tis now too late,  
Alas! 'tis now too late.    

SONG CXXVIII.  

BEss black as Charcoal  
Was found in a dark hole  
With Kit at the Cat and Fiddle,  
But what they did there  
None safely can swear  
Yet Gentlemen Riddle my Riddle.   

Troth I would be loath  
Were I put to my Oath  
To swear Kit with Bess did engender,  
Yet it would tempt a Man  
Bridle all that he can  
His present well wishes to tender.   

But 'twas found at last  
 a twelvemonth was past  
That Christopher Bess had o'remastered;  
For her Belly betrayed her  
And so she down laid her  
And brought him a jolly brown Bastard.    

SONG CXXIX.  

AS Chloris full of harmless thought  
Beneath the Willows lay,  
Kind Love a comely Shepherd brought  
To pass the time away:  
She blushed to be encountered so  
And chid the amorous Swain;  
But as she strove to rise and go  
He pulled her down again.   

A sudden passion seized her heart  
In spite of her disdain,  
She found a pulse in ev'ry part  
And love in ev'ry Vein:  
Ah youth quoth she, what charms are these  
That conquer and surprise;  
Ah let me! for unless you please  
I have no power to rise.   

She faintly spoke and trembling lay  
For fear he should comply,  
But Virgin's Eyes their hearts betray,  
And give their Tongues the lie:  
Thus she who Princes had denied  
With all their pompous Train.  
Was in the lucky minute tried  
And yielded to a Swain.    

SONG CXXX.  

A Young Man lately in our Town  
He went to Bed one night,  
He had no sooner laid him down  
But was troubled with a Spirit:  
So vigorously the Spirit stood  
Let him do what he can;  
Oh than he said  
It must be laid  
By a Woman, not a Man.   

A handsome Maid did undertake,  
And into th' Bed she leapt;  
And to allay the Spirit's power  
Full close to him she crept:  
She having such a Guardian care  
Her Office to discharge,  
She opened wide, her conjuring Book,  
And laid her leaves at large.   

Her Office she did well perform  
Within a little space,  
When up she risen, and down he lay,  
And durst not show his Face;  
She took her leave and away she went  
When she had done the deed,  
Saying if it chance to rise again  
Pray send for me with speed.    

SONG CXXXI. A Pastoral Dialogue betwixt Strephon and Phillis.  Phil. 
STrephon what envious Cloud hath made  
All o'er thy Face this sullen shade?  Strep. 
It is the Index of my grief;  Phil. 
But say, admits it no relief?  
Thy now neglected flock doth stray:  
The Wolf securely takes his prey.  
And thy discarded Pipes lie by,  
While thou under some Beech does lie,  
Or Myrtle in the shady Grove,  
And sigh and pinest like one in Love.  Strep. 
Ah Phillis! thou hast touched me now,  
I can't my passion disavow;  
At that word Love, my heart does rise,  
And with it strangely sympathise.  Phil. 
But who did thus your heart surprise?  Strep. 
It was the Shepherdess, whose eyes  
Are brighter far, than any Ray  
The Sun disclosed on May-day.  Phil. 
Who was it Strephon, tell me true?  Strep. 
Ah dearest Phillis it was you!  Phil. 
Strive not false Shepherd to deceive  
A Nymph, too easy to believe  
A passion which she likes so well,  
Such falsehood would deserve a Hell.  Strep. 
May the gods for whom fat Lambs I feed,  
That on their smoking Altars bleed,  
All my devoutest prayers despise;  
And all my humble Sacrifice:  
Or what's a greater cure, may I  
Find nought from thee but cruelty;  
If I do love my Phillis less  
Then my own greatest happiness:  
If truth doth not in Swains reside  
Where is she in the World beside.  Phil. 
I can't distrust so loved a troth  
Delivered by so sweet a youth.  

Chorus of two.  
Let's join our hearts and hands, and we'll outvie  
The Gods themselves with our Felicity;  
Let those that in deceitful Courts do dwell,  
Delay their joys and tedious suits pursue:   

Voices.  
Our honest words, their Courtship far excel,  
'Mongst unambitions Shepherds love is true.    

SONG CXXXII.  

A Maid I dare not tell her Name  
For fear I should disgrace her,  
Tempted a young Man for to come,  
One Night for to embrace her:  
But at the door he made a stop,  
He made a stop, he made a stop;  
But she lay still, and snoring said,  
The latch pull up, the latch pull up.   

This young Man hearing of her words  
Puiled up the latch and entered,  
And in the place unfortunately,  
To her Mother's Bed he ventured:  
But she poor Maid was sore afraid,  
And almost dead, and almost dead,  
But she lay still and snoring said,  
To the truckle-bed, to the truckle-bed.   

Unto the truckle-bed he went  
But as the youth was going,  
The unlucky Cradle stood in's way  
And almost spoiled his wooing:  
When after that the Maid he spied  
The Maid he spied, the Maid he spied;  
But she lay still and snoring said,  
The other side, the other side.   

Unto the other side he went.  
To show the Love he meant her,  
Pulled off his  courageously  
And falls to th' work he was sent for:  
But the poor Maid made no reply,  
Made no reply, made no reply;  
But she lay still and snoring said,  
A little too high, a little too high.   

This lusty Lover was half ashamed  
Of her gentle admonition,  
He thought to charge her home as well  
As any Girl could wish him:  
Oh now my Love I am right I know,  
I am right I know, I am right I know;  
But she lay still and snoring said  
A little too low, a little too low.   

Though by mistakes at length this youth  
His business so well tended,  
He hit the mark so cunningly  
He defied the World to mend it:  
Oh now my Love I am right I swear,  
I am right I swear, I am right I swear;  
Then she lay still and snoring said,  
Oh there, oh there, oh there, oh there.    

SONG CXXXIII.  

A Maiden fair I dare not wed,  
For fear I wear Acteon's head;  
A Maiden black is ever proud,  
The little one is ever loud:  
The Maiden that is tall of growth,  
Is always subject unto sloth;  
The fair, the foul, the little, the tall,  
Some faults remain amongst them all.    

SONG CXXXIV.  

IN faith 'tis true I am in love,  
'Tis your black eyes have made me so:  
My resolutions they remove,  
And former niceness overthrow.   

The glowing Charcoals set on fire  
A Heart that former flames did shun,  
Was an Heretic unto desire,  
Now's judged to suffer Martyrdom.   

But Beauty since it is thy fate  
At distance thus to wound so sure,  
Thy virtues I will imitate  
And see if distance prove a cure.   

Then farewell Mistress, farewel Love,  
Those lately entertained desires;  
Wise Men can from that Plague remove,  
Farewell black Eyes and farewell fires.   

If ever I my heart acquit  
Of those dull flames, I'll bid a Pox  
On all black Eyes, and swear they're fit  
For nothing but a Tinderbox.    

SONG CXXXV.  

HOw happy art thou and I,  
That never knew how to love;  
There's no such blessings here beneath  
Whatever there is above:  
'Tis liberty, 'tis liberty,  
That every Wise man loves.   

Out, out upon those Eyes  
That think to murder me,  
And he's an Ass that thinks her fair  
That is not kind and free;  
There's nothing sweet, there's nothing sweet  
To Man but liberty.   

I'll tie my heart to none,  
Nor yet confine my eyes,  
But I will play my game so well,  
I'll never want a prize:  
'Tis liberty, 'tis liberty,  
Has made me now so wise.    

SONG CXXXVI.  

WHere ever I am and what ever I do,  
My Phillis is still in my mind,  
When angry I mean not to Phillis to go,  
My feet of themselves the way find:  
Unknown to myself I am just at the door,  
And when I would rail I can bring out no more:  
Then Phillis too fair and unkind,  
Then Phillis too fair and unkind.   

When Phillis I see, my heart burns in my breast,  
And the Love I would stifle is shown,  
Asleep or awake, I am never at rest,  
When from my Eyes Phillis is gone:  
Sometimes a sweet Dream does delude my sad mind,  
But when I awake and no Phillis I find,  
How I sigh to myself all alone!  
How I sigh to myself all alone!   

Should a King be my Rival in her I adore,  
He should offer his treasure in vain;  
Oh let me alone to be happy and poor,  
And give me my Phillis again:  
Let Phillis be mine and but ever be kind  
I would to a Desert with her be confined;  
And envy no Monarch his Reign,  
And envy no Monarch his Reign.   

Alas I discover too much of my love  
And she too well knows her own power:  
She makes me each day a new Martyrdom prove,  
And makes me grow jealous each hour;  
But let her each minute torment my poor mind,  
I had rather love Phillis though false and unkind:  
Then ever be freed from her power,  
Then ever be freed from her power.    

SONG CXXXVII.  

ARm, arm, arm, arm, the Scouts are all come in,  
Keep your Ranks close and now your honours win;  
Behold from yonder Hill the Foe appears,  
Bows, Bills, Glaves, Arrows, Shields, Swords, Pikes, and Spears.  
Like a dark Wood he comes, or Tempest pouring,  
Oh view the Wings of Horse, the Meadows scouring,  
The Vanguard marches bravely, hark the Drums, Dub, dub;  
They meet, they meet, and now the Battle comes:  
See how the Arrows fly  
That darken all the Sky,  
Hark how the Trumpets sound:  
Hark how the Hills rebound, Tara, tara, tara,  
Hark how the Horses charge, in boys, in boys in, Tara, tara:  
The Battle totters, now the Wounds begin,  
Oh how they cry, oh how they die:  
Room for the valiant Memnon armed with Thunder,  
See how he breaks the Ranks asunder;  
They fly, they fly, Eumenes has the chase,  
And brave Polybius makes good his place;  
To the Plains, to the Woods,  
To the Rocks, to the Floods,  
They fly for secure, follow, follow, follow, hay, hay,  
Hark how the Soldiers hollow:  
Brave Diocles is dead,  
And all his Soldiers fled;  
The Battles won and lost  
That many a Life hath cost.    

SONG CXXXVIII.  

I Found my Celia one night undressed,  
A precious banquet for languishing Love;  
The charming object a flame increased,  
Which never, ah never, till than I proved:  
Her delicate Skin and Starry Eye,  
Made me a secret bliss pursue;  
But with her soft hand she put it by,  
And cried fie Amintor, ah what would you do.   

Her words and blushes so fired my heart,  
I pulled her to me and clasped her round,  
And though with cunning she played her part,  
Yet fainter and fainter, her threats I found;  
But I least thought or least desired,  
My Love a forbearance should allow;  
A touch of her hand my heart inspired,  
My passion was melted I know not how.   

Which when fair Celia's quick eye perceived  
And found by my dulness my passion decay,  
Her fate she inwardly seemed to grieve,  
That fooled her and cooled her so basely away:  
She sighed and looked pale to see me dull  
And in her heart this Oath she swore,  
She never again would slight an address  
Nor the critical minute refuse no more.    

SONG CXXXIX. The Country-man's Prophecy.  

MY jolly good Friends who to mirth are inclined,  
Give car and I'll tell you a piece of my mind,  
For what I declare you'll find clear as the Sun,  
When Covetousness out of England shall run.   

When Men beget Women, and Women get Men,  
And Men they do bring forth Children again;  
When Coventry steeple cracks Nuts with its thumb,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Hares sit i'th' high way to pick a Man's purse,  
And the Man in the Moon put his child out to nurse;  
And when Shooing-horns learn to beat on a Drum,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Bears they wear Breeches of Silver and gold,  
And go to the Barbers for to be Polled;  
And Monkeys do wait on them till they have done,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When a Conjurer's frighted to see a black Cock  
And wenching Gallants are afraid of the Smock;  
When Coats Linsey Wolsey by Ladies are spun,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When the Church of St. Paul hath got Wings and Legs,  
And upon London-stone doth fit and lay Eggs;  
And when Capons and Cocks of that breed do come  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When old Men graft Pear-trees on Cedar-stocks,  
And Owls at Noonday do fly up in flocks;  
When Cuckoo's at Christmas amongst us do come,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Tailors forget to throw Cabbage in Hell,  
And shorten their Bills that all may be well;  
When Horses can speak that have ever been dumb,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Beggars marry Ladies, and Women leave scolding,  
And Neighbour to Neighbour shall not be beholding;  
When Misers their Money lend out by the Tun,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Lawyers are willing to plead without Fees,  
And Pens, Ink, and Paper does grow upon Trees;  
And all is well ended that e'er was begun  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Millers refuse any Tole for to take  
And those that have Agues don't shiver and shake,  
When old Mother Damnable once doth turn Nun,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Whetstone-Park Ladies live honest and chaste,  
And scorn by their Cullies for to be embraced;  
When Cooks do want Victuals, as sure as a Gun  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Poets build Almshouses up for the Poor,  
And the rich old Curmudgeons desire no more;  
When Cripples at running great Wagers have won,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Vint'ners and Tapsters ne'er value their scores,  
But freely give all Men that enter their doors;  
When the Cart to the Horses with great haste shall come,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Men without Money shall buy House and Land  
And a Soldier forget the word of command,  
When a Welshman to breakfast shall drink a whole Tun,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Hogs do wear Armour and vapour along,  
And Pickpockets never appear in a throng;  
When Tradesmen by trusting shall ne'er be undone,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Men grow as high as the Maypole i'th' Strand,  
And Fishes take pleasure to be on dry Land;  
When Oysters at Billingsgate cry eat me come;  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When great Essex Scrpents shall fly in the Air,  
And Rabbits cry catch me in Net or in snare;  
When Hector's pay debts without ever a ,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When Ships over Dunstable Downs you see sail,  
And Oyster-women cease to scold and to rail;  
When Men shall roast Apples at midnight i'th' Sun,  
Then Covetousness out of England will run.   

When all these things happen then you will confess,  
The honest plain Countryman rightly did guests;  
He vows you shall shoot him to th' heart with a Gun,  
When Covetousness out of England will run.    

SONG CXL.  

When I shall leave this clod of Clay,  
When I shall see that happy day,  
That a cold bed, a winding sheet  
Shall end my cares  
My grief and tears  
And lay me silent at my Conquerour's feet.   

When a dear Friend shall say he's gone,  
Alas! he has left us all alone;  
I saw him gasping, and I saw  
Him strive in vain  
Amidst his pain  
His Eyestrings breaking, and his falling Jaw.   

Then shall no tears bedew my Hearse,  
No sad uncomfortable Verse;  
My unlamented Death shall have,  
He who alive  
Did never grieve  
How can he be less merry in the Grave.   

Then Friends for a while be merry without me  
And fast as you die come flocking about me,  
In Gardens and Groves our day Revels we'll keep,  
And at night my Theorbo shall rock you asleep:  
So happy we'll prove, that Mortals above,  
Shall envy our Music, shall envy our Love.    

SONG CXLI. Long Vacation.  

HOw quiet the Town is  
Now the tumult is gone,  
Now the Bullies and Punks  
To retirement are flown:  
The Nights are all peace  
And the Morning's serene,  
Our Windows are safe  
And our bodies are clean.   

Chorus. The Nights are all peace, etc.  
The Woman of Honour  
The Bulker and Ranger,  
Disturb not ourselves  
Nor inveigle the Stranger;  
Our joys are our own  
Spite of empty Gallants,  
Who Cuckold the Town  
To supply their own wants.   

Chorus. Our joys are our own, etc.  
Since the Town's then our own  
And the sweets it affords,  
Though indeed we are Rogues  
We'll be as drunk as the Lord's  
Opportunity short is  
For Termtime will come,  
When our Wives will be rambling  
And we must keep home.    

SONG CXLII.  

LAurinda who did Love disdain,  
For whom had languished many a Swain;  
Leading her bleating Flocks to drink  
She spied upon the River's brink,  
A youth whose eyes did well declare  
How much he loved, but loved not her.   

At first she laughed and gazed a while  
But soon it lessened to a smile,  
Then to surprise, and wonder came,  
Her breast to heave her heart to flame;  
Then cried she out, ah now I prove!  
Thou art a god almighty Love.   

She would have spoke but shame denied,  
And bid her first consult her Pride;  
But soon she found that aid was gone,  
For Jove alas had left her none:  
Ah how she burns but 'tis too late,  
For in his eyes she reads her Fate.    

SONG CXLIII.  

LOve's soft deluding charms  
Must now give place to Arms,  
Hark, hark, I hear the Trumpet's fresh Alarms;  
Mars chides me for my stay  
And frowning seems to say,  
Thy honour youth will suffer by delay:  
Adieu ye Sex Divine  
Whose all commanding shrine,  
So oft has bowed these stubborn knees of mine;  
Kind Females now no more  
Must I those charms adore,  
Nor court the pleasures of the British Shore.   

My Friend and I in Wars  
'Midst Armies, Wounds and Scars,  
Will bid defiance to unlucky Stars;  
No charming Female Darts  
With all their amorous Arts,  
Shall e'er disjoin our undivided hearts:  
Friendship that noble Name  
That kindles generous flame,  
Prompts us to court no Mistress now but Fame;  
Her we may jointly love  
And happy Rivals prove  
In Emulation like to those above.   

Thus hand in hand we'll go  
And equal danger know,  
Love begs in vain when Honour answers no;  
The Battle done at last,  
We'll lie so close embraced  
And think with pleasure on the danger past:  
Should one of us be slain,  
Fate's envy's spent in vain;  
In spite of Death our friendship we'll maintain;  
For he that's left behind  
Shall teach the World to find  
Though two in person, we're but one in mind.    

SONG CXLIV.  

HOw mighty are the charms of Woman kind,  
And yet how soon decayed;  
Scarce has a beauty in full glory shined  
 'tis in utter ruin laid:  
While the blessed minutes last before its fall,  
'Tis made a Deity and adored by all;  
But when the glorious lustre's gone,  
Th' unhappy slighted Nymph is left alone  
The sad privation to bemoan.   

See, see, poor Phillis yonder once the fair,  
Bright as the Morning Sun;  
Blasted and faded all her beauties are,  
Alas her kill days be done:  
How unregarded now she treads the plain  
Pursued by no admiring Swain;  
Not one charm left, not one alluring grace,  
Horror and wrinkles have assumed their place,  
Age, Age 〈◊〉 wrote upon her Face.   

Who then would be in love and fond prise  
At so-unjust a rate,  
A pair of flattering false deluding eyes  
That are to morrow out of date:  
If their first vigour lasted to the Grave  
'Twere richly worth the while to be a slave:  
But since the fairest in their course must end  
I will no more on the gay toy depend  
But make my pleasure in my friend.    

SONG CXLV.  

DO not ask me charming Phillis  
Why I lead you here alone,  
By this bank of Pinks and Lilies,  
And of Roses newly blown:  
'Tis not to behold the beauty  
Of those flowers that crown the Spring,  
'Tis too— but I know my duty  
And dare never name the thing.   

'Tis at worst but her denying  
Why should I thus fearful be,  
Every Minute gently flying  
Smiles and says make use of me:  
What the Sun does to those Roses  
While the Beams play sweetly in,  
I would— but my fear opposes  
And I dare not name the thing.   

Yet I die if I conceal it  
Ask my Eyes, or ask your own,  
And if neither can reveal it  
Think what Lovers think alone:  
On this bank of Pinks and Lilies  
Might I speak what I would do,  
I would with my lovely Phillis  
I would, I would, I would, ah would you.    

SONG CXLVI.  

PEace Cupid take thy Bow in hand  
I'th' gloomy shade in ambush stand,  
To watch a cruel Nymph frequents this Bower,  
Cold as the streams but sweeter than each flower;  
There, there she is, direct thy Dart  
Into that stony Marble heart,  
Draw quickly, draw and show thy Art.  
Woe's me, thou'rt blind indeed, thou hast shot me,  
Whilst she escapes in the Grove and laughs at thee.    

SONG CXLVII.  

HE's a Phlegmatic Lover  
In whom we discover  
A temper that never doth change;  
A Breast that's like mine with jealousy burns,  
Now Love and now Anger possess it by turns;  
With fears I grow mild and with hopes I grow tame,  
That passion is weak that is always the same.  
But the Sanguine brisk Lover  
Can never discover  
How the Soul of a Woman's inclined,  
He knows that her charms have conquered yet more;  
That many there are who do fie and adore:  
He trusts not to merit, to give him success  
For Women love only by fancy and guests;  
Or if to desert by great chance they prove kind,  
The fair still are fickle and oft change their mind.   

Oh the starts of a Lover  
Do plainly discover  
The passion he feels is extreme;  
For he that loves well and does not possess,  
Must either be jealous or else love you less;  
Then say not my fears or my doubts do you wrong,  
He cannot be quiet whose passion is strong:  
Small Fires do but glow, and are always the same,  
But the greater will rage's and scatter the flame.    

SONG CXLVIII.  

MY Muse denies  
To Apologise  
For my Song's acceptation,  
I know 'twill fit  
Your Appetite  
Because 'tis of the fashion.   

New Fashions began  
With the World and Man  
In Adam's time and Eves,  
They did begin  
To cover sin  
With a fashion of their leaves.   

After was tried  
The rough Bucks hid  
A wear of commendation,  
Had not with the Skin  
The Horns crept in  
And turned it into fashion.   

Each Tailor is read  
In this Fashion, his head  
Is capable on't 'tis feared;  
When he's not at leisure  
His Wife will take measure,  
Though't be by his Neighbour's yard.   

The Clown's array  
Is an innocent grey  
Nor stained by the Dyer's Art,  
Which doth invest  
As pure a breast  
And no less spotless heart.   

The Farmer's Hose  
His wearing Shoes  
For both are wondrous plain,  
His Honesty  
Not Knavery, he  
Most purely dies in grain.   

The Schoolmaster in  
His Trouzes hath been  
And bombast, Doublet long space,  
He's a Monoptote  
For he varies not  
At any time his case.   

His Wife is pure  
In her task demure,  
Her Gown is of Reformation,  
And she verily  
Turns up her eye  
In a very zealous fashion.   

The Shopkeepers walk  
And often do talk  
In Gowns of Purple or Blue,  
Since Venner and Farneze  
Wore such at the Bar  
Some wisely have changed their hue.   

The Lawyer (be't known  
To all Men) is prone  
To the fashion of long Hose,  
And fain he would  
Still have and hold  
Long Suits for he lives by those.   

Now with the best  
Your Pimp's in request  
This your Gallant is supplied:  
By his Bones as well  
As his clothes you may smell  
He's rarely Frenchifyed.   

His Mistress plumed  
Painted, perfumed  
Is stillifyed all over,  
Her lose array  
Doth every day  
A loser body cover.   

The Scholar well trust  
In his black Suit brushed  
Is like to jet in his degree,  
Nor is it enough  
Men point at stuff  
He'll be pointed at the knee.   

Thus are we become  
As Apes of Rome,  
Of France, Spain, and all Nations:  
And not Horses alone  
But Men are grown  
Diseased of the Fashions.    

SONG CXLIX.  

HOw happy and free is the resolute Swain  
That denies to submit to the yoke of the fair,  
Free from excesses of pleasure and pain  
Neither dazzled with hope nor depressed with despair,  
He's free from disturbance and calmly enjoys  
All the pleasures of Love without clamour or noise.   

Poor Shepherds in vain their affections reveal  
To the Nymph that is peevish, proud, sullen and coy,  
Vainly do Virgins their passions conceal  
For they boil in their grief till themselves they destroy.  
And thus the poor darling lies under the curse  
To be checked in the Womb or overlayed by the nurse.    

SONG CL.  

AH how unkind is the Nymph I adore  
For my obedience she slights me the more,  
Still as she shuns me I closer pursue,  
So by her flight she has learned to subdue;  
How endless are the pains I must endure,  
Since she by flying wounds and slams the cure.   

Yet how unhappy soever I am  
Still I must follow and cherish my flame,  
For should I struggle and break off my chain  
My freedom would be worse than her disdain;  
Therefore the nobler Fate I will prefer  
It must be happy if it come from her.   

Then cruel Fair if my death 've decreed  
Spite of compassion I beg you proceed,  
And look not down on my wretched Estate  
As neither worthy of your Love not hate:  
For with your frowns I would rather dispense  
Then languish in lukewarm indifference.    

SONG CLI.  

MY Gaffer and Gammer were fast in their Nest,  
And all the young fry of their cribs were possessed;  
Spot whitefoot and Puss in the Ashes were spread,  
And a blinking rush Candle stuck over their head.   

Sweet Ursly was washing the Trenchers and Platter,  
Preparing to make her good friend, the Hog fatter:  
Greased up to the Elbows and smutcht to the Eyes;  
And her rich broidered  were as fat as her Thighs.  
Like Bagpipes her cheeks, and her Udders chin high  
Her Nose hawking out bending both ways awry;  
Her Lips were as thick as her squint eyes were blinking  
And her orient locks were most rankishly stinking.   

While Roger the Ploughman lay close by a snoring  
God Cupid was vexed at his Clownish adoring;  
And therefore conveys to his great Loggerhead,  
In a whisper the News, that all were a Bed.   

Up Roger starts then and rubbing his Eyes  
To his dearest sweet Ursly with passion he flies;  
And jolling his Elbows on Urslies broad back,  
Complains that his heart was e'en ready to crack.   

But Ursly displeased with the weight of her Love  
(Oh Cupid why dost thou thus treacherous prove:)  
As fast as she could she turned her about  
And with dishclout slopped o'er the wretched face of our Lout.   

Now Cupid thou'rt fit to be kicked out of doors  
Since a Pimp thou dost prove to such fulsome amours;  
But Cupid is only a hope to obtain  
What is out of our reach seldom causes our pain.   

For Roger at Matket had frequently seen  
Such beauties good lawi, each looked like a Queen:  
Yet his heart all the while did continue his own  
But Ursly, ah Ursly but seen and 'tis gone.    

SONG CLII  

POor Celia once was very fair  
A quick bewitching eye she had,  
Most neatly looked her braided hair,  
Her dainty cheeks would make you mad:  
Upon her Lips do all the Grace's play  
And on her breast ten thousand Cupid's lay.   

Then many a doting Lover came  
From seventeen to twenty one,  
Each told her of his mighty flame  
But she forsooth affected none.  
One was not handsome the other was not fine,  
This of Tobacco smelled and that of Wine.   

But t'other day it was my fate  
To pass along that way alone,  
I saw no Coach before her door  
But at her door I heard her moan:  
And dropped a tear and sighing seemed to say  
Young Ladies marry, marry whilst you may.    

SONG CLIII.  

AS sad Philothea lay melting in grief,  
And kindly complained of the amorous Thief;  
She aloud to the Woods did her passion impart  
But faintly lamented the loss of her heart:  
Ah cruel unkind Dorilaus she cried  
Bring back the fond stray that has wandered aside.   

The Youth as from courting Astraea he came  
Had the pleasure of hearing her sigh out his name;  
And softly he stole till so nigh her he drew,  
That his Arms on a sudden about her he threw:  
Then take back thy heart Philothea he cried  
'Tis pity the straggler should ever be tied.   

Surprised at the welcome approach of her Swain  
Yet unwilling to take the fond Truant again,  
No Shepherd says she give me thine in exchange  
And I'll keep it so safe that it never shall range:  
No trust me not I, Dorilaus replied  
Since your own you have suffered to wander aside.    

SONG CLIU  

PEace and silence be the guide  
To the Man and to the Bride,  
If there be a joy yet new  
In Marriage, let it fall on you,  
That all the World may wonder;  
If we should stay we should do worse  
And turn our blessings to a curse  
By keeping you asunder.    

SONG CXXV.  

I Courted a Lass, my folly  
Was the cause of my disdaining,  
I courted her thus; what shall I  
Sweet Dolly do for thy dear Loves obtaining.   

But another had dallied with Dolly  
That Doll for all her seigning,  
Had got such a Mountain above her Valley  
That Dolly went home complaining.    

SONG CLVI.  

CLoris forbear a while  
Do not o'rejoy me,  
Urge not another smile  
Lest it destroy me.  
That beauty pleaseth most  
As is best taking;  
Which is soon won soon lost,  
Kind yet forsaking:  
I love a coming Lady faith I do  
But now and then I'd have her scornful too.   

O'recloud these Eyes of thine  
Bopeep thy features,  
Warm with an April shine  
Scorch not thy Creatures:  
Still to display thy Ware  
Still to be fooling;  
Argues how rude you are  
In Cupid's Schooling:  
Disdain begets a smile, scorn draws us nigh,  
'Tis cause I would and cannot makes me try.   

Chloris I'd have thee wise  
When Gallants view thee,  
Courting do thou despise  
Fly those pursue thee:  
Fast moves an Appetite  
Makes hunger greater.  
Who's stinted of delight  
Falls to't the better:  
Be coy and kind betimes be smooth and rough,  
And buckle now and then and that's enough.    

SONG CLVII.  

PHilander and Sylvia a gentle young pair,  
Whose business was loving, and kissing his care;  
In a sweet smelling Grove went smiling along  
Till the youth gave a vent to his heart with his Tongue:  
Ah Sylvia said he and sighed when he spoke,  
Your cruel resolve will you never revoke;  
No never she said, how never he cried,  
'Tis the damned that shall only that sentence abide.   

She turned her about to look all around,  
Then blushed and her pretty eyes cast on the ground;  
She kissed his warm cheeks and then played with his neck  
And urged that his reason his passion should check:  
Ah Philander she said 'tis a dangerous bliss!  
Ah never ask more and I'll give thee a kiss!  
How never he cried and then shivered all o'er,  
No never she said and then tripped to a Bower.   

She stopped at the Wicket, he cried let me in,  
She answered I would if it were not a sin;  
Heaven sees, and the gods will chastise the poor head  
Of Philander for this: strait trembling he said  
Heaven sees I confess, but no Tell-tales are there,  
She kissed him and cried, you're an Atheist my dear,  
And should you prove false I should never endure,  
How never he cried, and strait backwards he threw her.   

Her delicate body he clasped in his Arms.  
He kissed her, he pressed her, heaped charms upon charms;  
He cried shall I now, no never she said  
Your will you shall never enjoy till I am dead:  
Then as if she were dead, she slept and lay still  
Yet even at death she bequeathed him a smile;  
Which emboldened the youth his charms to supply  
Which he bore still about him to cure those that die.    

SONG CLVIII.  

TAke oh take those lips away,  
That so sweetly were forsworn;  
And those Eyes the break of day,  
Lights that do misled the Morn:  
But my kisses bring again,  
Seals of Love, but sealed in vain.    

SONG CLIX  

WIth an old Song made by an old ancient pate  
Of an old worshipful Gentleman who had a great estate,  
Who kept an old house at a bountiful rate,  
And an old Porter to relieve the Poor at his gate:  
Like an old Courtier of the Queens,  
And the Queen's old Courtier.   

With an old Lady whose anger good words assuages,  
Who every quarter pays her old Servants their wages;  
Who never knew what belonged to Coachmen, Footmen and Pages,  
But kept twenty old Fellows with blue Coats and badges:  
Like an old Courtier of the Queens,  
And the Queen's old Courtier.   

With an old study filled full of Learned Books,  
With an old reverend Parson you may know him by his looks;  
With an old Buttery Hatch worn quite off the hooks  
And an old Kitchen which maintains half a dozen Cooks:  
Like an old Courtier of the Queens,  
And the Queen's old Courtier.   

With an old Hall hung round about with Guns, Pikes and Bows;  
With old Swords and Bucklers, which have born many shrewd blows;  
And an old Frisado Coat to cover his Worship's Trunk Hose,  
And a cup of old Sherry to comfort his copper Nose:  
Like an old Soldier of the Queens,  
And the Queen's old Courtier.   

With a good old fashion when Christmas is come,  
To call in his Neighbours with Bagpipe and Drum;  
And good cheer enough to furnish every old room,  
And old Liquor able to make a Got speak, and a wise Man dumb:  
Like an old Courtier of the Queens,  
And the Queen's old Courtier.   

With an old Huntsman, a Falconer, and a kennel of Hounds,  
Which never hunted nor hawkt but in his own grounds;  
Who like an old wise Man kept himself still within his own bounds,  
And when he died gave every child a thousand old pounds:  
Like an old Courtier of the Queens,  
And the Queen's old Courtier.   

But to his eldest Son his House and Lands he assigned,  
Charging him in his Will to keep the old bountiful mind,  
To love his good old Servants and to Neighbours be kind;  
But in th' ensuing you shall hear how he was inclined:  
Like a young Courtier of the Kings  
And the King's new Courtier.   

Like a young Gallant newly come to his Land  
And keeps a brace of whores at his own command;  
And takes up a thousand pounds upon's own Land,  
And lieth drunk in a new Tavern till he can neither go nor stand:  
Like a young Courtier of the Kings,  
And the King's young Courtier.   

With a neat Lady that's brisk and fair,  
Who never knew what belonged to good house-keeping or care;  
But buys seven Fans to play with the wanton Air  
And seventeen or eighteen dress of other men's Hair:  
Like a young Courtier of the Kings,  
And the King's young Courtier.   

With a new Hall built where the old one stood,  
Wherein is burnt neither Coal nor Wood;  
And a Shuffle-board Table smooth and red as blood,  
Hung round with pictures which do the Poor little good:  
Like a young Courtier of the Kings,  
And the King's young Courtier.   

With a new study stuffed full of Pamphlets and Plays,  
With a new Chaplain that swears faster than he prays;  
With a new Buttery Hatch that opens once in four or five days,  
With a new French Cook to make Kickshaws and Toys:  
Like a young Courtier of the Kings,  
And the King's young Courtier.   

With a new fashion when Chrisimas is come,  
With a new Journey up to London we must be gone,  
And leave no body at home but our new Porter John,  
Who relieves the Poor with a thump on the back with a stone:  
Like a young Courtier of the Kings,  
And the King's young Courtier.   

With a Gentleman Usher whose carriage is complete,  
With a Footman, Coachman, Page to carry Meat;  
With a waiting Gentlewoman whose dressing is very neat;  
Who when the Master has dined let's the Servants not eat:  
Like a young Courtier of the Kings,  
And the King's young Courtier.   

With a new honour bought with his Father's old gold,  
That many of his Father's old Manors had sold;  
And this is the occasion that most Men do hold,  
That good House-keeping is now grown so cold:  
Like a young Courtier of the Kings,  
And the King's young Courtier.    

SONG CLX.  

PHillis I pray  
Why did you say  
That I did not adore you,  
I durst not sue  
As others do  
Nor talk of love before you.   

Should I make known  
My flame, you'd frown  
No tears could e'er appease you;  
'Tis better I  
Should silent die  
Then talking to displease you.    

SONG CLXI.  

A Way with the causes of riches and cares  
That eat up our Spirits and shorten our years;  
No pleasure can be  
In state nor degree  
But it's mingled with sorrows and fears:  
Then perishall Fops by sobriety dulled  
While he that is merry reigns Prince of the world.   

The quirks of the zealous of beauty and wit  
Though supported by power at last must submit;  
For he that is sad  
Grows wretched or mad  
Whilst mirth like a Monarch doth sit:  
It cherishes life in the old and the young  
And makes ev'ry day to be happy and long.    

SONG CLXII.  

NO, no thou all of red and white  
Thou hast not yet undone me quite,  
For I have lost but half my heart  
Yet I confess the wound doth smart;  
Then pretty Thief oh steal no more  
But let me keep one part in store;  
Sure half's too much for thee of mine  
Unless I had some share in thine.   

Though thou art fair and thou art young  
And though thou hast a pretty Tongue,  
And every word that thou dost say  
Might lead a Prince's heart astray:  
Yet all those Traps will ne'er catch me  
I must have kinder snares from thee:  
Alas thou shalt see I can retreat  
And not lie conquered at thy feet.   

'Tis true if I did keep the Field  
At length I must be forced to yield,  
Not like a Coward will I fly  
Nor like a fool will stay and die:  
With half my heart I'll march away  
Then t'other part not long will stay;  
A heart divided knows no power  
Nor will submit above an hour.   

Reproach me not though heretofore  
I only freedom did adore,  
And brag that none though kind as fair  
The loss of it could half repair:  
Since I now willingly do yield  
To Chleris beauty all the field.   

With greater joys I do resign  
My freedom, though thou e'er keep'st thine;  
And am resolved constant to prove  
Should her neglect transcend my Love:  
Strange charms they are which make me burn  
Without the hopes of a return.   

To see and not to be in Love  
A wonder like herself would prove,  
Whose charms by Nature and by Art  
Do each of them deserve a heart:  
For which my sorrows are not small  
I have but one to pay them all.   

I must confess a while I strove  
With reason to resist my Love,  
All Saints sometimes against death do pray  
Though it be to Heaven their only way;  
'Tis only Chloris hath the skill  
To make me blest against my will.   

Nor will I so much as endure  
To think unconstancy secure,  
For were I to that sin so bend  
It sure would prove my punishment;  
Her to adore I must confess  
N better than elsewhere success.     

A TABLE Of all the SONGS, Alphabetically composed.  

A.  
A Dieu to the Pleasures and Follies of Love Page 4  
A Wife I do hate Page 11  
As I was sitting on the Grass Page 20  
A Curse upon thee for a Slave Page 27  
Augusta is inclined to fears Page 38  
Ah fading Joy Page 57  
A Curseo ' the Zealous and Ignorant crew Page 58  
Adieu my Cordelia, my dearest adieu Page 59  
As I was walking on a May Morning Page 64  
A Curse on Impertinent Age Page 112  
As Amoretta with Phillis sat Page 113  
As Chloris full of harmless thought Page 115  
A young Man lately in our Town Page 116  
A Maid I dare not tell her Name Page 118  
A Maiden fair I dare not wed Page 120  
Arm, Arm, Arm, the Scouts are all come in Page 123  
Ah how unkind is the Nymph I adore Page 138  
As sad Philothea lay melting in grief Page 141  
Away with the causes of riches and cares Page 161   

B.  
BE thou joyful I am jolly Page 11  
Be jolly my friend Page 56  
Beauty and Love once fell at odds Page 83  
Bess black as Charcoal Page 114   

C.  
COme away, t'other Glass Page 13  
Come drink off your Liquor Page 25  
Cupid no God a wanton child Page 33  
Come you Ladies of the night Page 39  
Cupid once was weary grown Page 46  
Charon, O gentle Charon let me woe thee Page 47  
Courtier if thou needs wilt Wive Page 51  
Chloris when you disperse your influence Page 53  
Cease Chloris, cease to wonder why Page 57  
Come my Daphne come away. Page 79  
Come all you Gallants that ●ive near the Court Page 96  
Come come bonny boys Page 104  
Chloris forbear a while Page 142   

D.  
Diogenes' was merry in his Tub Page 26  
Did you not hear the hideous groans Page 73  
Disputes daily arise and errors grow bolder Page 92  
Do not ask me charming Phillis Page 133   

F.  
FAir Clarinda I do owe Page 19  
Farewell the dearest of my crimes Page 38  
Fond Fables tell of old. Page 41   

G.  
GOd Cupid's for certain as foolish as blind Page 65  
God Cupid for ever I defy thy poor Quiver Page 99  
Great Love to thy Deity praises I'll sing Page 105   

H.  
Hung up Mars Page 23  
Here lies not in, but on Earth's Womb Page 26  
He that marries a merry Lass Page 28  
How happy's the Prisoner who conquers his Fate Page 34  
Hold back thy hours, dark night Page 51  
How bonny and brisk, how pleasant and sweet Page 61  
Had Daphne Honour, Wealth or Fame Page 93  
Happy is the Man that takes delight Page 110  
How severe is Fate to break a heart Page 111  
How cruel is Fortune grown Page 111  
How happy art thou and I Page 121  
How quiet the Town is Page 129  
How mighty are the charms of Woman kind Page 132  
He's a Phlegmatic Lover Page 134  
How happy and free is the resolute Swain Page 138   

I.  
IF Wealth would keep a Man alive Page 13  
I always resolved to be free from her charms Page 18  
I wi' not go to't, I must not go to't Page 28  
I'll sing you a Song that was never in Print Page 48  
I know more than Apollo Page 49  
I'd have you quoth he Page 66  
I never shall henceforth approve Page 69  
In Caves full of Skulls and rotten old Bones Page 71  
I charge thee Neptone as thou art just resign Page 84  
I have heard your amorous Tone Page 101  
I know more than Apollo Page 105  
In Faith 'tis true I am in Love Page 120  
I found my Celia one night undressed Page 124  
I courted a Lass, my folly Page 142   

L.  
LOng since Clarinda my passion did move Page 5  
Let the Bowl pass free Page 17  
Let Fortune and Phillis frown if they please Page 41  
Lo behind a Scene of Seas Page 68  
A Latin Song Page 103  
A Latin Song Page 164  
Laurinda who did love disdain Page 130  
Loves soss deluding charms Page 130   

M.  
MAke a noise pull it out Page 8  
Make a Bed in the deep Page 15  
My jolly good Friends who to mirth are inclined Page 125  
My Muse denies to Apologise Page 135  
My Gaffer, and Gammer were fast in their Nest Page 139   

N.  
NOw that the cold Winter's expelled by the Sun Page 2  
Nymph and Shepherd come away Page 36  
Nay let me alone Page 62  
No I will sooner trust the Wind Page 82  
No, no, 'tis in vain Page 92  
No Joys like to those of a new married Bride Page 93  
Now drink i● all off Page 103  
Never more will I protest Page 113  
No, no, thou all of red and white Page 150   

O.  
OH Celia come tell me how long it will be Page 12  
Oh Delia for I know 'tis thee Page 23  
Oh that Joy so soon should waste Page 33  
Oh name not the day lest my 〈◊〉 reprove Page 59  
Oh sorrow, sorrow, say 〈◊〉 dost thou dwell Page 71  
Oh Celia come tell me 〈◊〉 Page 100   

P  
POor Citizen if thou wilt be Page 52  
Poor Corydon thy flames remove Page 112  
Peace Cupid take thy bow in hand Page 134  
Poor Celia once-was very fair Page 140  
Peace and silence be the guid● Page 142  
Philander and Sylvia a gentle young pair Page 143  
Phillis I pray Page 149   

S.  
STay shut not the Gate Page 32  
Since we poor slavish Women know Page 40  
Sure it is so, then let it go Page 74  
Still to be neat, still to be dressed Page 79  
Since Celia 's my Foe Page 90  
Strephon what enviom Cloud bathe made Page 117   

T.  
THe delights of the Bottle, and charms of good Wine Page 5  
Tell me no more you live Page 3  
'Tis not enough great Gods, 'tis not enough Page 5  
The Pot and the Pipe Page 28  
'Tis late and cold stir up the fire Page 42  
Thou joy of all hearts, and delight of all Eyes Page 52  
To play upon a Viol if Page 60  
They call, they call, what noise is that Page 62  
Tyrant thou seekest in vain Page 63  
Thou art so fair and cruel to● Page 67  
Turn off the Glass 'tis a crime to see't full Page 73  
'Twas in the pleasant Month of May Page 75  
The Glories of our Birth and State Page 77  
Thou fair Usurper of my Fate Page 88  
The World is grown mad and turned upside down Page 109  
Take, oh take those Lips away Page 145   

V.  
Venus' chanced to love a Boy Page 42   

W.  
Why should so much beauty fear Page 1  
What sighs and groans now fill my breast Page 6  
Why should Friends and Kindred gravely make thee Page 7  
Were Celia but as chaste as fair Page 14  
What a madness it is to give over our drink●●ing Page 15  
When a Woman that's bux●m to a D●tard doth Wed Page 16  
When first I saw fair Celia 's face Page 21  
What mean the dull Poets themselves to abuse Page 22  
When I see the young Men play Page 24  
Where the Bee sucks, there suck I Page 27  
Woman who is by Nature wild Page 30  
What an Ass is he Page 48  
When first my free heart Page 53  
What does the fair Clariza mean Page 55  
When 〈◊〉 my dear Delia my heart did surprise Page 61  
What shall we do Page 66  
Why lovely Celia should I fear Page 70  
Whilst Alexis lay pressed Page 72  
What makes you all so dull Page 76  
When Aurelia first I courted Page 78  
Why should we not laugh and be jolly Page 80  
Why Phillis to me so untrue and unkind Page 89  
When youth do agree to be merry and free Page 108  
Where ever I am, and what ever I do Page 122  
When I shall leave this clod of clay Page 128  
With an old Song made by an ancient old pate Page 145   

Y.  
YOu Lovers Love on Page 29  
You merry Poets old Boys Page 39  
Ye she-friends and he-frriends Page 85    

AN INDEX, DIRECTING How to find out any of the aforegoing Letters in their proper Pages.  

A Father to his Son at School in the Country Page 49  
The Sons Answer Page 50  
A Citizen returning his Friend kind thanks for his entertainment when he was in the Country. Page 51  
The country Gentleman's Answer to the Citizen Page 52  
A merry Letter to invite a Friend to the Tavern Page 52  
His Friend's Answer Page 53  
A Letter from a Gentleman to a young Lady whom he courted to marry Page 54  
The young Lady's answer Page 55  
A Country Farmer's Son to one of his Neighbours Daughters Page 56  
Her kind Answer Page 57  
A Letter to court a young Widow who had lately buried her Husband Page 57  
The Widows Answer Page 59  
A Merchant to his Factor in the East-Indies Page 60  
The Factor's Answer Page 61  
A Letter to dissuade a Friend from marrying Page 61  
The Young Man's merry Answer Page 64  
A Letter of Anger sent to his Friend for an affrent given at their last meeting Page 66  
His Friend's short Answer Page 67  
A Letter to chastise a near Kinsman who was given to Extravagancy Page 67  
His Kinsman's Answer Page 69  
A Letter from a Country Shopkeeper to a Grocer in London for commodities Page 70  
The London Grocer's Auswer to his Country Chapman Page 71  
A Letter from a Citizen to his Friend in the Country to send him up a Apprentice Page 72  
The Country Gentleman's kind Answer Page 73  
A Letter of advice for health Page 73  
The Gentleman's Answer Page 74  
A Letter to his Friend in praise of his Mitress Page 75  
His Friend's merry Answer in praising his foul Mistress by the Contraries Page 77  
A Letter sent to his Friend a Somerset shire Man full of Compliments Page 80  
The Sommersetshire Man's clowish Answer in their own Country Language Page 81  
A loving Letter sent to a Gentlewoman Page 82  
The Gentle-woman's kind Answer Page 83  
A Letter from a Gentlewoman to her Husband, who had buried her Child in the Country Page 85  
The Husband's Answer Page 86  
A Letter to congratulate a Friend's happy return from his long Journey Page 86  
The Captains thank full Answer to his Friend's Letter expressed with many Compliments Page 88  
A hasty Letter to his Cousin Page 89  
His Consin's hasty Answer Page 90  
A Letter sent to his Friend condoling his long sickness Page 90  
The sick Man's thank full Answer Page 91  
A Letter to persuade a Friend to betake himself to business Page 92  
His Friend's short Answer Page 94  
A Letter from an Elder Brother to the Younger, reproving him of extravagancy Page 95  
The Younger Brother's Answer Page 96  
A Letter sent from a London Quaker to one of his Country Brethren Page 98  
The Country Quaker's Answer Page 99  
A Letter of Excuse Page 99  
The Gentleman's Answer Page 100  
A Letter sent to a Gentleman in way of petition Page 101  
The Gentleman's Answer Page 102  
A Letter from a Gentleman to a Country Schoolmaster, concerning putting his Son to School with him Page 103  
The Schoolmaster's Answer Page 104  
A kind Letter to a Gentlewoman with a Ring sent as a token Page 105  
The Gentle woman's Answer Page 106  
A Letter sent to a Gentleman as a challenge Page 106  
The Answer Page 107  
A Letter desiring his Friend to acquaint him with what news is stirring Page 108  
His Friends Answer Page 109  
A dunning Letter sent from a Creditor to his Debtor for Money Page 110  
The Debtor's Answer Page 111  
A Letter to persuade a Friend to marry Page 112  
His Friend's Answer Page 114  
A Letter complaining of such long silence, in his Friend, in writing no oftener to him Page 115  
His Friend's Answer Page 116  
A cunning Letter sent to a crafty Friend to borrow Money Page 116  
The Answer Page 117  
A Letter to his angry Sweetheart Page 118  
Her short but loving Answer Page 118  
A Letter upon the delay of a courtesy desired Page 119  
The Answer Page 119  
A Letter of Counsel and good advice from a Father to his Son Page 120  
The Son's dutiful Answer Page 121  
A merry Letter after the old fashion sent to a Maid Page 121  
Her Answer Page 123  
A Letter from a Father to a Son at the Vniverfity Page 123  
The Son's Answer Page 125  
A Daughters' Letter to her Mother Page 126  
The Mother's kind Answer Page 127  
A Letter of comfort sent to a Friend in adverfity Page 127  
His Friend's thank full Answer Page 128  
A Letter sent to a Friend persuading him that he was a Cuckold Page 129  
His Friend's Answer Page 130  
A Fantastical Comical Letter sout to a Friend to try both his wit and patience Page 131  
The Answer Page 132  
A Conceited Letter from a Country Schoolmaster who thought himself to be a great Scholar Page 132  
The Gentleman's Answer Page 133  
A contional Letter from a Husband to his Young Wife in the Country Page 134  
His Wives Answer Page 135  
A Letter to invite a Friend to a Wedding Page 136  
His Friend's Answer Page 137  
A Letter of farewell sent to a Friend from one that was going a long Journey Page 138  
The Answer Page 139  
How to begin Letters with Compliments Page 140  
Supplements with choice Phrases and Sentences to be used in the middle of Letters upon all occasion's Page 151  
Conclusions and End of Letters of all sorts and upon all occasion's Page 157  
Superscriptions for Letters suitable for, all Degrees and Qualities of Men and Women Page 16●  
Posies for Rings, or Mottoes fit for presents. Page 166   
FINIS.