Beggars and Gipsies In their posturs true With Country Mirth you In this page may View    

THE Triumph of WIT, OR, Ingenuity displayed in its Perfection. Being the newest and most useful ACADEMY, In Three Parts.  
PART I. Containing Variety of excellent Poems, Pastorals, Satyrs, Dialogues, Epigrams, Anagrams, Acrostics, choice Letters with their Answers, Epitaphs, Poesies, Titles of Honour and Directions, Complimental Expressions and Addresses: also Directions relating to Love and Business, and the newest, best, and exactest Collection of Choice Songs.  
PART II. Containing the whole Art and Mystery of Love in all its nicest Intrigues and curious Particulars, promising wonderful success as well in a happy Choice as in the great Affair of Courtship to either Sex: with the Description & Anatomy of perfect Beauty.  
PART III. Containing the Mystery and Art of Wheedling and Canting, with the Original and Present Management thereof, and the ends to which it serves and is employed. Illustrated with Poems, Songs and various Intrigues in the Canting Language, with the Explanation, etc.  
To which is added, Instructions for DANCING with Musical Notes.  
Printed for Nicholas Bodington at the Golden Ball in Duck-lane, 1688.   

Licenced according to Order  
October the 6th. 1687.   

THE PREFACE TO THE READER  
THough sundry Essays of this nature have been made, yet there is nothing wrought up to that height of Eloquence or stamped with such Perfection, but that the same Subject is Copious enough for new Undertake, and may admit of a greater lustre: The consideration of which, and that I may still endeavour to please (especially) the softer Sex, has emboldened me to undertake this Work; to try if possibly, I may exceed what has hitherto been scattered abroad in the World. Great indeed have been the pains and industry of some to deliver themselves in such a Method and Style as has charmed the Senses of many, and induced them to believe it would be altogether vain and unsuccessful for any after them to pretend to the like. So in the days of Chaucer the Men of that Age concluded the succeeding Writers must be silent when his Works appeared; but even the following Age was convinced that their Fathers laid too great a stress, upon his Writings; though 'tis true they are to this day held in much esteem, yet more for their Antiquity and the good meaning of the Author than any excellent Style or accurate Fancy that adorns 'em. But lest I should be censured as vain, glorious in attempting to create in others a good Opinion of what I have written, it is time I should limit my Prentensions, and tell the Reader that my design has all along been to give Birth to somewhat that might please, especially, the Younger sort; so that after many Considerations and Debates with myself what should be brought forth, my teeming Fancy grew pregnant with many accademical Conceits, which like the Actoms of original Chaos serrieing together, framed this Book so full of variety that I hope it will answer the Expectations of those that shall give themselves the leisure to peruse it; which if it does I have my end, and remain, Reader,  
Your most humble Servant, John Shirley.   

J. D. To his worthy Friend J. S. upon the perusal of his new Book, Entitled, The Triumph of Wit, etc.  
SIR,  

I Have viewed the Book you lately wrought,  
And find each Page with curious Fancy fraught;  
Such as must raise the most dejected mind,  
Charm the dull Soul and make the froward kind●  
In all the Lines you to the World impart,  
The kindling flames of Love of Wit and Art  
Unite their Powers;—  
Yet calm and innocent in all appear  
As Thoughts and Dreams of new Born Infants are.  
In it (as in a Garden choice in Flowers,  
Profuse in Fruits, cool Fountains shady Bowers,  
Soft Walks, excluding Phoelus scorching Heat,  
Breathing cool Airs, yet making Storms Retreat.)  
Variety of Recreation lies  
Scattered all over; cast where we will our Eyes,  
The more we look the more the Work we prise.  
'Tis something strange it lay so long obscure,  
So long the World its absence should endure,  
Whilst those that are but shadows of the kind  
With much applause could large Acceptance find.  
So when the Earth risen from her watr'y Bed,  
A dim expanded Light her Face oe r-spred;  
But when the Sun made from its Eastern Throne,  
The feeble Shadow of a Light was gone:  
But wherefore strive I to make known its worth,  
When in its self its self's so well set forth?  
'Tis but perusing and the Reader will see  
There is no need it should be praised by me;  
But rather, I may undergo his Fate,  
Who would read War to Hannibal the Great?  
Pardon me then, if I have done amiss,  
And if I have let Friendship plead for this;  
And let the Reader too forgive the Man  
Where Merit has commanded what is done.  
What did I say, what's done? yes that is true;  
But how much more, alas, than he can do.  
I like a Rivulet, run to the large Flood  
That needs me not, yet so my Will is good:  
He that has Kingdoms Cities may bestow,  
But he that has no Cities can't do so;  
He that does give (though Fortune han't him blest)  
With a good Will, the Will supplies the Rest.   
Sir, Your Friend and very Humble Servant J. D.   

G. E. To his worthy Friend Mr. J. S. upon the perusal of his new Book, Entitled, The Triumph of Wit, etc.  

DEar Friend, I read your Book and find in it,  
No common Suff, but th' Quintessence of Wit;  
No trivial Things to fill an empty Page,  
But such as must (if aught) will please the Age:  
Nature and Art conspired to guide your Pen  
As if they'd make well-writing live again,  
By giving to each Line force, fire and Sense  
To move, compel and charm with Eloquence.  
Each pleased my Ear and raised my wonder too,  
How in so short a time you this could do;  
How in a Time when other Labours pressed  
Your Teeming Fancy; gave your Muse no rest,  
Your Brain the World with this Minerva blest:  
When many puzzled till Old Age at last  
But Embryo Brats into the World have cast;  
Yet proud of the dull indigest Load,  
Each swells and thinks himself a Demigod;  
Hoping by such a Trifle, that his name  
Shall e'er stand fair i'th' Records of loud Fame:  
When you more Books than Weeks compose the year  
By far have wrought, yet unconcerned appear:  
All unaffected stand and rather choose,  
Than boast of it, the praise of all to lose;  
Whilst others claim (as Virgil's once) your Muse.  
So still go on that you like him may rise,  
Humility, when mounting highest, flies,  
And Phoenix like can soon reach the Skies.  
Nor need the coyest Virgins fear to Read  
These Nectar Lines that from your Pen proceed.  
No obsceen Words take place to raise a Blush,  
And make the Roses o'er the Lilies flush;  
But softest strains of Mirth and modest Love  
Enammel all this fragrant tempting Grove,  
Where dwells th' Eternal Spring of charming Wit;  
Such as can ne'er offend but must delight,  
And raise a silent Transport in the mind,  
Make young Men Constant and young Maiden's kind,  
That Love may his large Empire larger find.   
Sir, I am your affectionate and devoted Friend and Servant, G. E.   


THE Generous LOVER'S Complaint TO His Scornful MISTRESS, OR PHAON to DORINDA.  
A Heroic POEM.  

HOW long, Dorinda, shall I sigh in vain,  
Burn with Love's fever, struggle with my pain?  
Breathe, scorching breath, proclaiming fires within,  
More fierce than those in Bellowing Aetna seen;  
E'er you look down, and bid me live in peace;  
E'er with one smile my labouring Soul you ease.  
Ah! be more kind, or else appear less fair,  
Yet bright as you destroying Angels are.  
Forgive me, Heaven! such Parallels to make;  
And you, dear Saint, forgive me what I speak;  
Forget what from a Mind in pain dares break.  
O! shine my Sun, let kindly beams be hurled,  
From your bright Eyes, into my little World;  
Overcast with Clouds of Discontent and Fear,  
Which in a Thousand threatening shapes appear:  
As when to warn and terrify Mankind,  
In various forms the Phantoms ride on Wind;  
And mustered Armies in the thinner Air,  
Shaking their Spears, for dreadful War prepare:  
Mix with those Rays a smile that may impart,  
Such Beauty cannot have a stoney Heart;  
Or if you drop a Tear to hear me grieve,  
'Twill quench my Flames, and give me power to live;  
'Twill quench the burning part, yet leave a heat,  
Gentle and calm, in Love's most hid retreat.  
Consider too, delays may dangerous prove,  
None are impatient, like to those in Love.  
Remember where Despair has failed to kill,  
Where Grief, where Scorn could not the task fulfil.  
The ready hand a tedious life has loosed,  
The Sword, the gentler Cordial, has been used,  
And thought more noble than to live refused:  
For Death, what is it but an easy pain.  
To those that die a thousand times in vain?  
Consider this, fair Saint, and let me know  
What Mercy is, and how much you can show.  
O trifle not with one that is your slave,  
Who lives for you, for you delays his Grave;  
Dallies with Fate, to think you will be kind;  
But if in vain, he hopes what ne'er he'll find:  
Let him but know it, and you'll quickly see  
He has a way from Pain to set him free.  
Yet when the stream of Life is set afloat,  
And all the Glory of the Earth's forgot.  
When dazy Mists swim round my dying Eyes,  
And my freed Soul's just mounting to the Skies.  
The last-fetched Sigh shall bless Dorinda's Name,  
And pray for her who is the cause I'm slain.   
Madam, Your most affectionate, languishing, and almost-despairing Lover, J. S.   

A Dialogue between Altemor and Almira.  
Love broke through danger, Constancy has crowned;  
True Love with fetters ne'er could yet be bound.  Altemor. 
THis unexpected Letter, delivered me by an unknown hand, possesses me with mortal fears that my dear Almira is in danger— Ha'— it says she'll meet me here this very hour— and see where she comes.— O how I revive at this blessed sight!  Almira. 
May this Grove for ever flourish, that has been so often kind to shelter us from the prying Eyes of too severe and too officious Parents, who strive to cross our Happiness—  Alt. 
May it wear a lasting Green, and may these cool shades be still a Recess for Lovers; and these fragrant Banks Enamell'd with the pride and glory of the Spring, yield them a soft Repose, whilst they breathe forth a thousand tender things: But how, my dear Almira, did you scape your guard to bless me with such unexpected joy?  Alm. 
Not without great difficulty, you may be sure, considering how narrowly I have been watched ever since your last Letter was intercepted by my Father.  Alt. 
It was unhappy it so fell out, and I have mourned that fatal oversight of mine, which was the cause of so long a separation: but since my better self. I have you in my Arms, all sorrow vanishes much like a Morning-cloud that's spent in showers.  Alm, 
But you had like never to have had me thus again, had I not escaped as I did; all our Joys, and all we can expect from Love, had been for ever barred.  Alt. 
As how— my dear Almira— Alas, I tremble at the sound of what you say— had been for ever barred: Just Heaven could ne'er have suffered such a punishment to fall on Innocents', since Love is Heaven's chief Attribute— But speak, for I find by the Roses being frighted from your Cheeks, that  escaped a danger.  Alm. 
I have so, for my Father upon the discovery of the Intrigue we were carrying on, confined me to my Chamber, resolving out of hand to Marry me to his Neighbour P—  Alt. 
Death and Ruin— Could he be so barbarously inclined to join these Beauties, fresh and gay as newblown Roses, and more sprightly than the kindling flame, apt for Love and Mutual Joys with Age and Impotency? Could he be so cruel to ●●st the blooming Spring, adorned, and smiling with her fragrant sweet, into the Icey Arms of shivering Winter, which seems in nature dead? sure 'tis impossible.  Alm. 
It was intended, and my nauseous Lover daily visited me; strove with Presents, and a thousand Amorous stories to make me pliant.  Alt. 
And did you not regard 'em? how could you resist his flattery, or be proof against his wealth?  Alm. 
I answered him with Tears, and more and more grew sullen when he wooed; protested against his Love, and vowed to sacrifice my life rather than be his Bride: My Father chid me for my obstinacy, and laid approaching Greatness in my view; urged and conjured me by the power of his Paternal Jurisdiction over me, to yield myself obedient to his will. I answered him, My life was in his hand, and that he might command it when he pleased: But for my Love, it soared a nobler height, and could not be circumscribed, as being free by a Charter ancient as the World: He stormed at this, and said, I Trifle with him, and should dearly suffer for my obstinacy: I thereupon fell at his feet, overwhelmed with tears and sighs, that would have moved a Rock of Adamant, and begged I might be free to make my choice: or if he would not grant it, as he had given me life, next to the workings of nature, and the invisible power that infused that breath of life, which ought to act in freedom, he would strike me dead, and kindly put an end to woes that might ensue: At this his Eyes shot fire, his Frowns me-thought looked like a Winter-cloud, fraughted with a thousand storms, at which I trembled, and look pale: But he, remorseless, told me. That in spite of all my denial and resistance I must prepare the next day to be a Bride; at which my spirits failed, and I sunk down into a deadly swoon, and in that plight he left me: For when I awoke as from the dead, and faintly reared my head, I found me in my Nurse's Arms; who pitying my distress, and moved by my tears and entreaties, my vows and protestations of sacrificing my Life to my Father's anger, but not my Love, she helped me to cordage, whereby I made my escape through the Window, though at the hazard of my life, by reason of its height; and have since obscured myself to give you notice by Letter to meet me in this place—  Alt. 
And all this for worthless me— O my dear— dear Angel, what recompenses can I make to such transcendent goodness, who have been the cause of all your sufferings?  Alm. 
Your love, and constancy, and kindness in not upbraiding me hereafter with my overfondness, is all I ask—  Alt. 
Love and Constancy— why thou deservest more than the World can give; or to upbraid you with what's the noblest Virtue of your Sex, would merit a punishment beyond what witty horror could invent— Witness, all ye Powers; and may hot Lightning strike me dead; may all the bolts of Thunder fall upon my head the moment that I prove unconstant or unkind—  Alm. 
I must believe you Sir, for now my Love and Fortunes are at your dispose; I'll leave the management of all to you; yet consider it is a business that requires speed, or else the Wind that blows so fair may turn into a storm, and shipwreck all our happiness e'er we arrive at the desired Port.  Alt. 

The God of speed shall wing us in our flight,  
Hymen the Torch shall of our Nuptials light,  
And stop the Ruin you so much could dread,  
Whilst to a thousand Joys my Dear is led:  
Joys that shall recompense you for the pain  
You once endured, but ne'er shall feel again.   Exeunt.  

The Bashful Lover's Encouragement; or, Nothing like Trial: In a Dialogue between Pharmedon and Phoebe  Phoebe. 
PRay Sir, why do you follow me up and down like my shade, and continually cast yourself in my way, like an evil Genius, haunting a guilty Conscience?  Pharmedon. 
As if you knew not, Madam, the cause, or were unacquainted with my sufferings.  Phe. 
I know— why sure you talk in your sleep, and are insensible of what you say— Prithee how should I know what the matter's with you! I have other business to mind than inquire into your affairs.  Pha. 
Have not my sighs, my eager gazes, the restless motions of my body informed you my mind is diseased, and that Disease proceeds from Love?  Phe. 
From Love!— A foolish idle fancy arising from Ease and Luxury— But with whom, I prithee, do I know the party—  Pha. 
Ah, Madam, you know her above all others; nor is any body more largely acquainted with her Heart than yourself—  Phe. 
Very fine— I warrant you the party is not far off that you have been harping upon all this while—  Pha. 
Madam, you have truly guessed— The beauteous Angel I adore is here— And thus I fall at her feet to beg she'd have compassion on a Wretch that lives but by her smiles.  Phe. 
Ha', ha'— Why this is very pretty— Come, come, rise, and ne'er unman yourself at this rate to kneel to a Toy called Woman— Prithee, what is it you would have me do for you?  Pha. 
Alas, I scarce dare be so bold as to tell you what I Languish for— Yet since you give me leave, I'll summon all my Courage to my Aid.  Phe. 
Prithee make haste and do it, that I may see what a Champion you are, or I shall leave you to talk to the Wind, for my business requires me in another place.  Pha. 
Thanks kind Heaven, for this blessed moment, and ten thousand Blessings fall on her that has vouchsafed to hear me speak—  Phe. 
No long Prologues, I beseech you: Speak what you would say, or for ever be dumb.  Pha. 
Fairest of Creatures! whose Eyes outshine the Morningstar! whose Face is lovelier than the Rosiedawn, when Purple Clouds are edged with Gold—  Phe. 
hay days! here's a long story to no purpose! Well, if this be all, far ye well.  Pha. 
Dearest of Creatures, stay: O take not from me my Light, my Life, my Happiness! If I have offended, be gracious and chide me, but do not fly me.—  Phe. 
Why speak then whilst you may, and trifle with yourself and me no longer.  Pha. 
Then know, dear Saint, I love you more than life, and long have sighed and languished, but durst not tell the cause of my dejecting sadness till you gave me leave, lest by offending I should lose all hope.  Phe. 
And was all this whining and pining occasioned by Love? All this sadness for the love me—  Pha. 
It was— As for a Treasure, more valuable in my esteem than all the Riches of the Universe.  Phe. 
Yet, perhaps, should I become your easy prize, your mind would alter, and I should be neglected.  Pha. 
Never, never, thou best of Earthly blessings; to you my Love shall stand, firm as Rocks, immovable as Mountains, and boundless as the Ocean.  Phe. 
Could I conceit such Constancy in Man, I should value the Sex at a higher rate than yet I have set upon it.  Pha. 
Witness all ye gaudy Fires, ye shining Lamps of Heaven, that seed the Firmament with Light, and ever dance your mystic Round through the blue Canopy that covers us, witness: and strike me with your Bailfull influence if my Passion e'er diminish; or if I love not this, dear Saint, next the Deity that I adore.  Phe. 
Come, come, no more of your Conjuring Protestations— If you love as you say, what needed all this cringing and whining? could not you as well have spoke out like a Man at first?— Would you have Women make the Advance?— Indeed many of you, puny Lovers, have been so vain to expect it, and many times lost what was most desired for want of ask for— But, in brief, if you are in Love, as you say, I hope I have given you encouragement sufficient to pay me a visit at another time, and express yourself further, for now my great affairs urges me to take myself from you: And I bid you adieu.  Exit. Illa. Pha. 
Ten thousand Blessings wait upon you: And may some Angel with a golden Trumpet sound this to the World, to let all Mankind know the joy that overwhelms my Heart.  

Methinks I now am raised to a degree,  
Higher than Fate can reach to injure me;  
No opportunity I'll lose, but hast  
To that fair Land in which my Lot is cast;  
Time now's too precious for a Moment's waist.    

A Dialogue between Sylva and Cloris; Or, The Promise Claimed, etc.  
Being the Mystery of Love, etc.  Sylva. 
MY dear Cloris! how have you spent your Time this many-a-day? Methinks mine has been tedious since you left me.  Cloris. 
Indeed our parting has not been pleasant to me neither; but I have been interessed in such a hurry of affairs, that my return could be no sooner.  Syl. 
In what affairs was you taken up? I prithee let me have a relation of 'em.  Clo. 
A thousand trivial Businesses, not worth your taking notice of.  Syl. 
Nay, never seek to shelter 'em from your friend, for I find by your Blushing there's something more than ordinary in't.  Clo. 
Prithee, what can you guests of that kind, unless it be—  Syl. 
Nay, out with it, I find it sticks at your Tongue's end.  Clo. 
Why, it was a business of Love; a trivial matter, or so.  Syl. 
You are Married then, and would conceal it from me— Is this done like a Confident?— nay, I heard some whispering of it a week agone.  Clo. 
And so would you, I'll warrant you, if you had had the opportunity.  Syl. 
Yes, faith, with all my heart, the sooner the better: but since it is your Lot to have the advantage of me. I shall make so bold with you as to claim your promise.  Clo. 
What promise, I prithee?  Syl. 
Sure you can't be so forgetful as not to remember it: Was it not agreed between us, that she that was Married first, should give the other an account of her Happiness, with encouragement and directions how she ought to proceed—  Clo. 
Why, you are not in earnest, sure!  Syl. 
In earnest— yes, certainly I am.  Clo. 
Fie, fie; indeed you make me blush— and yet I done't well understand what you say neither.  Syl. 
Come, come, blush me no blushes, nor pretend me no ignorance; I long to know, and won't be put off so.  Clo. 
I prithee, Girl, ask no Questions of this kind; I'll vow I can't forbear blushing to hear you talk at this rate; sure you did not sleep well last night.  Syl. 
Why, there's it; it may be I am mad, and done't know what I say: however, an honest Lass will be as good as her word.  Clo. 
Her Word! in what?  Syl. 
As if I had not told you, and you were ignorant.  Clo. 
Why sure you are not so foolish to think that I was any other but in jest, when I talked so childishly.  Syl. 
But if it had fell to my lot, I'm not a little confident you'd have been rigorous with me in urging me to a performance.  Clo. 
Well, fool, rather than have this pouting and reproach, I'll say something, as far as Modesty will warrant me.  Syl. 
Why, who asks any thing beyond it? Not I for all the World.  Clo. 
Why then, when my Sylvander came first to my Mother's house, under a pretence to buy Sheep, I perceived by his casting a Sheep's Eye at me, that I was the Ew-lamb he had the greatest mind to purchase.  Syl. 
Could his looking upon you make you fancy he was in love with you?  Clo. 
No, no, there's more in't; for often as he sat by me, which he would choose upon any public occasion, before he grew so bold as to desire my company in private, he would fix his Eyes upon me with such eagerness, that they grew so dull and dazey with excess of transport that when he found I marked it— he had not for some time power to take 'em off: He would often too let fall a Sigh in the midst of his discourse; now and then clap his hand upon mine, and draw it back suddenly, as if he feared to offend; nay, many times falter in the midst of his discourse, and be so much out, that he remembered not what he said last, and fancy himself talking to me by unawares, expressing my Name when he was discoursing with others to a different purpose; and when he was at dinner, as sometimes my Mother would invite him, as being a neighbour, he would be sure to place himself over-against me, and now and then forget, by gazing on me, what he was about, and cut his fingers instead of the meat.  Syl. 
And are these the signs of a Man in love?  Clo. 
Infallible signs of true love; for though their Tongue should deny it by these, they would lively express it.  Syl. 
But did you seem to understand him so, as he might take notice of it?  Clo. 
For some time I did not; but finding him restless and uneasy, and sometime to keep his bed, and pretend sickness, that his companions might not discover his Passion, and upbraid him with his weakness; I gave him such encouragement (for indeed I was not a little taken with his comely Personage and good Parts) that after some sighs and abrupt stammerings he began to break his mind in many tender Expressions; and each day growing bolder and bolder, as Lovers do, that find their Mistress not unwilling to hear their suit, he at length plainly asked me if I could love him, and would accept of him as a Husband?  Syl. 
And what could you say to that?  Clo. 
Why, I blushed, and made many excuses; though, Heaven knows my heart, I was as willing as he could wish.  Syl. 
Then you did not deny him?  Clo. 
No, nor positively comply neither, but referred the whole business to the discretion of my Mother, whose judgement was necessary to be consulted in so weighty affair; he knew well enough his Wealth would tempt her into a compliance, and therefore made the less scruple on't.  Syl. 
And did he succeed?  Clo. 
With the greatest ease imaginable; for it seems, as she has since told me, he was the Man she ever pitched upon to make me happy.  Syl. 
There was no delay then in the business.  Clo. 
Not any, for in three days all things were prepared for the Wedding; and to give you an account in the proceeding of that Solemnity is needless, seeing you were an eye-witness of all that passed between us, though you dissembled it.  Syl. 
No, no, by your leave, but I was not, we are only in the Porch of your Joys yet: Pray let us enter a little further into the Mystery of your Love.  Clo. 
As how, where, upon what ground—  Syl. 
Nay, nay, never blush for the matter: Come, come; proceed, proceed.  Clo. 
Proceed to what! why, I have told you already as much as I know; therefore pray be satisfied.  Syl. 
And are these all the joys, all the pleasures, all the soft delights that I have flattered myself withal, when I enter into a Marriage Estate?  Clo. 
Yes, what more can you expect than to love and be beloved?—  Syl. 
But are there no tender things, no charming transports, that stupefy the Soul, and melt it into Raptures?— Methinks my fancy reaches at something beyond what you have named.  Clo. 
There are a thousand Joys indeed that wait on Love where it is truly Reciprocal, and mixes the united Souls of Lovers; in joys so soft and tender, that scarcely fancy, much more words, are capable of reaching 'em: Now I hope you are satisfied; or if you are not, I'll answer no more of this kind, but leave you to expect hereafter.  Syl. 
I am satisfied in the sense of what you mean, and by this kind embrace return you thanks.  Clo. 
Then it is time we part, for see the day grow old, and the falling Sun admonishes us to drive out flocks to the fresh stream.— Exit.  Syl. 

Well, we will part, and Rest must leave me too.  
Till some kind Swain more freely lets me know.  
What 'tis to love, and love, and ne'er give over;  
Maidens, till so enriched, are ever poor. Exit.    

The Welshman lost in a Wood; or, His Dialogue, with Echo, in mistake of his Mistress; who, in the mean time, found opportunity to Marry another, etc.  Enter Shon-a-Morgan alone. 
WEll, her was pointed to meet her Mistress in this Vood; her must therefore consider what her must tell her, Plut her must— Why, her need not seek long for that— Hur will tell her her Name was Shon-a-Morgan, Born in Wales, come of Pighouse and Pritish plod, was have create Hills and Mountains, All her none when her can get 'em, and that her Countries was never conquered, put have the Victories pravely, and that her speak true; her have Arms and Scutcheons of her Ancestors, and give in her crest Monsters and Dragons, was kill 'em with their Welsh Hooks very valiantly as any Gentleman in the whole Urld; nay more, was say that was place her goodwill and affections upon her in ways of Make money; Hu● will fight in her Cause and quarrels as long as have any plod in pellies and backs; and when her get Matrimonies and Wedlocks: Mark her, awl her Cousins was make Joys and Gratulations for her good fortunes upon their Welsh Harps— Ha'— was not her Mistress come yet? plut her has almost lost her self in these Voods and Wildernesses, and was very weary of these Journeys, Voyages, Travels and Footbacks: her was call, and see if her can make her hear her— Soho, Soho—  Echo. 
Soho.  Shon-a-M. 
Ha', tere was some podies yet— Hark you! here was a Gentleman of Wales— look you, desires to have Speeches and Confabulations with her: where is her?  Echo. 
Here is her.  S. M. 
Here is her— but her knows not which way to come at her— Pray her tell her where you be?  Ech. 
Booby.  S. M. 
Pooby! was her call her Boobies?— 'tis very saucy Answer was tell her that— her will teach her better Manners and Moralities if her get at her— if her get her within the circumferences of her Welsh Blade, was swinge her truly.  Ech. 
You ●ye.  S. M. 
How is that! Lies and Boobies too— Hark ye me— Shon-a-Morgan was give her Mawls and Knocks for her Lies, and Boobies, and Indignities— And thus her draw her Welsh Blade and at her— Why, here is no podies but Bushes and Briars— And since all was quiet again, was call once more— Soho, Soho.  Ech. 
Soho. Soho.—  S. M. 
Ha! here is her again— Let her see— Hur is very much mistaken now it come into her mind, if this be not her none Countreywoman Echo.  Ech. 
Echo.  S. M. 
'Tis very true; but her much marvel, and greatly wonder how her come to travel into these Countries— her warrant her follow Shon-a-Morgan for loof of her out of Wales.  Ech. 
Out of Wales!  S. M. 
'Tis very true— Bless us all now, her call to remembrance her have had Talks, Confabulations, Communications and Discourses with her in the Valleys and Mountains in her none Country; this was the very Glamorganshire Echo was born there, therefore her will take more of her acquaintance, and ask her some Questions:— Hark her, Morgan, was travel hither out of love and affections to Silena?  Ech. 
Nay.  S. M. 
Nay— yes very true— Pray can her tell her where Silena be in these Voods or no?  Ech. 
No—  S. M. 
No; where is her then? have her taken all these labours and ambulations in Vanities? and must her go back as her came?  Ech. 
As her came—  S. M. 
As her came— But Silena was appointed to meet her here, and her hope her will do it verily.—  Ech. 
There you lie—  S. M. 
Does her lie?— Very well, you have privileges and leaves to give lies, and all the urds in the Urld— But her will not leave these vods for all that, her will be Pilgrim all tays of her life first; but her will find Silena out, for her will not go without her.  Ech. 
Go without her—  S. M. 
Go without her— how! not Silena loof her, then there is a tifle in awl the Sex— Know very well was promise Loofs and Good-wills in time create while ago— Pray you now, her will talk and hold Confabulations with her no longer— Yet if her meets Silena, bid her make haste: And so far her well.  

Conclusion.  
Thus the Bold Britain's sent into the Wood,  
To wander there, and cool his boiling blood;  
Whilst the sly Jilt, Silena, takes a pride  
To laugh at him, his shallow Wit deride,  
And to another gives his promised Bride.    

An Amorous DIALOGUE between Richard and Nancy.  Rich. 
O My Nancy! I have longed for an opportunity to break my mind to you, and now I have found it.  Nan. 
Break your mind, Richard— Bless me! have a care of that; for breaking your mind is, if I be not mistaken, to be crack-brained, and run distracted.  R. 
No, no, 'tis quite another thing; a thing as different as Chalk from Cheese.  N. 
Nay, like enough; but I understand it so: yet, I prithee, to mend my understanding, inform me.  R. 
Why, foolish Girl, it is to open my heart to thee.  N. 
How, Richard, open your Heart to me!— Why, this is worse than tother— I hope you han't a mind to Murder yourself, that I may be brought in question for it.  R. 
O! incorrigable stupidity— Why I thought you could have reached further to have understood my meaning— But now I find I must lose the benefit of the fine way of Expression, and come to plain, down right dunstable.  N. 
Why that's it I'd have; I ever told told you I liked plaindealing best.  R. 
Then, to be plain with you— by this kiss— and this, and this— I love you.  N. 
O. fie upon it, how you touse a body— nay, nay I did not think you would have been so rude—  R. 
Why, prithee, this is plaindealing; and, a dad, if I am not mistaken, I find by your simpering you like it a great deal better than whining, pining, sneaking, creeping, cringing, and the like.  N. 
Well, well, I see you will make me blush: but pray what may all this tend to?  R. 
Why only to a small, inconsiderable, trifling business, viz. Matrimony.  N. 
Nay, nay, no cramp words, I beseech you, Richard, but keep yourself to the plain, downright way.  R. 
Why then, by this kiss— and this kiss— and—  N. 
Fie, fie, nay, nay, this is unsufferable— yet methinks I can't be angry with ye for all that.  R. 
Angry! No, no; Angry quotha; you must not, shall not.  N. 
Indeed but I will, unless you tell me presently, in plain English, what you mean by all this.  R. 
Very good— Why, I intent to hug you, buss you, love you, wed you, bed you, and I know not what all.  N. 
hay day! here are abundance of conjuring words— though I am no Scholar, I can guests well enough at your meaning.  R. 
Nay doubtless— But pray what think you of the business?  N. 
Why truly not much amiss, for I love a man o● Parts, that has his Tongue well hung; and is well hung in the other— Ha! what was I going to say?  R. 
Come, come, never blush for the matter, but speak if it is a match, and leave the rest to my management.  N. 
What, would you have me give my consent at the first ask?  R. 
Ay marry would I; what should we spend precious time in pulling and haling, that may be better employed.  N. 
Indeed you say right— Well, to be short, I am contented it shall be so— Yet, to save my Modesty's credit and reputation, you must be contented to think I yield against my will.  R. 
Never trouble yourself for that, nor doubt, but I'll do what becomes me— Strike me a bargain then, Girl, and 'tis done.  N. 
But when must we be Married?  R. 
Why even to morrow morning; the sooner the better.  N. 
Well, seeing it is gone thus far, I'll leave the management of all to your discretion: and so expecting you'll not fail to fetch me at Ten, I'll dismiss you for this bout.  R. 

Farewell, my Dear, our Wooing's short, but sweet,  
And shall more pleasant prove when next we meet.  
What need Attendance, cringing, whining be,  
When speaking home at first can do't, you see.    

The Antiquated Chambermaid; or, A Dialogue between Dorothy and Timothy  Enter Dorothy alone, speaking to herself. Dor. 
ALas, poor Gentlewoman! to what misery hath Age brought thee! to what a scurvy fortune, though thou hast been the Companion of Noblemen, and at the worst of those times for Gentlemen; now, like a broken Servingman, you must be● for favour of those that would have crawled like Pilgrims: but for an Apparition of the— Yo● that are young, and coming on, make much of fifteen and so on till twenty five; use your time with reverence, that your advantage may arise thereby; it will not tarry with you Exe signum, in me you may see the sign— Here was a face but Time, that, like the Scurvy, eats our Youth: shame on his Iron teeth, and draw 'em, for't has been a little bolder than welcome and now, to say truth, I am fit for no Man; Old Men i'th' house, of fifty, call me Grannum; and when they are drunk, even then, when Joan and my Lady are all one, not one will do me reason: My Little T●mothy too has left me; his Silver sound of Citerns quit● Abolished, his doleful Hymns under my Chamber window digested into tedious study of other matters Well, fool, you leapt a Haddock when you left him; he's a clean Man, and a good Edifier, and twenty Nobles in Estate, declaro, besides Pigs and Sheep in posse. Well, to this dapper Man I have been eve● stubborn, which now I dearly repent, and hope ●●mend my manners for. O, Love! if ever thou had● care of forty, and wilt cast thy eyes with pity o● such a piece of Lapland-ground, hear my prayer, and fire his zeal so far forth, that my faults in this renewed impression of my love may show to gentle Timothy corrected and amended— Ha', here he comes: yet see how negligent, and with what a careless gate he passes by me; see how scornfully he marches from me in Querpo— Yet knowing I have deserved it, I'll venture to let him see I am a Penitent, Mr. Timothy.  Tim. 
Fair Gentlewoman, my Name is Timothy.  Dor. 
Then, gentle Timothy, hear me.  Tim. 
Ungentle Dorothy forbear me.  Dor. 
Why, Mr. Timothy, will you set your wit to a ●eak Woman?  Tim. 
You are weak indeed; for so the Poet sings: 
The Weakness that we in a Woman find,  
Affects the Body far less than the Mind.   Dor. 
I confess my weakness, sweet Sir Timothy.  Tim. 
Good my Lady's Chambermaid, or my good Lady's Chambermaid, this Trope is lost to you now, therefore leave your prating; you have a season of your first Mother: Go, Dalila, you make Men fools, and wear Fig-breeches.  Dor. 
Well, well, hardhearted Man, delate upon the weak infirmities of a Woman— These are fit Texts— But once there was a time— would I had never seen those Eyes, those orient Eyes.  Tim. 
Ay, ay, they were Pearls once with you, witness—  Dor. 
Good, gentle Mr. Timothy, upbraid me not, they are Pearls or Diamonds, or any thing with me still.  Tim. 
Nay, nay, I do beseech you leave your cogging; what they were, they are; they serve me without Spectacles, I thank 'em.  Dor. 
O! will you kill me with neglect and disregard? If thus you use me long, it is impossible ● should survive it.  Tim. 
There's no fear of that; you're like a Copyhold with nine Lives in't.  Dor. 
You were wont to bear a Christian fear about you for your own Worship's sake.  Tim. 
I was a Christian fool then: Do you remember what a dance you led me? how I grew qualm● in Love, and was a Dunce? was out at every turn ● my business, and yet you was as hard to me as a lon● Pedigree.  Dor. 
O! be now as kind and loving as then yo● were.  Tim. 
I thank you for that: Sure I will be wise Dorothy; and as the Heathen Poet sings, I will no lose my Oil and Labour too: you are, as I take ● Mrs. Dorothy, for the Worshipful.  Dor. 
O! take it so, and then I am for you.  Tim. 
I like well these tears, and this humbling● they are symptoms of Contrition— If I shou● fall into my Fit again, would you not shake me in● a Quotidian, Coxcomb? would you not use me scu● vilely again, and give me a Posser with Purging Comfits?  Dor. 
O! never! I will love thee longer, better dearer; I will do any thing; I'll betray the secrets ● the whole Household to your advantage; turn all yo● Eggs into penny Custards, and see your Geese gra● and multiply.  Tim. 
I am mollified, as well shall testify this fait● full kiss— and have a great care. Mrs' Dor●thy, how you depress my spirits any more with yo● Taunts and Rebukes, for certainly the edge of su● folly cuts itself.  Dor. 
O, Sir! your goodness, sweetness and gentleness, have altogether overcome me! and here I vow a Recantation to those malicious faults i ever did against you; never more will I despise your good Parts; never more pin Cards and Coney-tails to your Garment; never again reproach your Reverend Nightcap, and reproach it by the mangy name of Murrain; never abuse your Reverend Person more, and say you look like Baal's Priest in the Hang; never again, when you say Grace, laugh at you, or put you out at Prayers; never cramp you more, nor, when you ride, get Soap and Thistles for you— No, my dear Master Timothy, those faults shall be corrected and amended, as by the tenor of my Tears appears.  Tim. 
Now can't I hold if I should be hanged; I must cry too for company— Come to thine own Beloved, and do even what thou wilt with me, Sweetheart— Dorothy, I am thy own for ever— Here's my hand, and when Timothy proves false, carry him to Church, and hang him in the Bell-ropes. Exeunt.  

Conclusion.  
Thus do dissembling Females conquer Men;  
Who being freed, fall in their snares again:  
So the Egyptian Crocodile sheds Tears,  
Forced from his Eyes when he his Prey ensnares.    

The Fortunate LOVERS: or, The Happy Meeting: A Dialogue between Amarillis and Phaon.  Phaon. 

FAir Amarillis, welcome to this Grove,  
The cool Retirement, and Recess of Love  
Which now more pleasing is, since graced by you;  
A fairer Guest its shades yet never knew.   Amar. 

The place is pleasant, and your kindness great  
In bringing me to such a calm retreat;  
Where kissing Sunbeams on the Leaves abide,  
That shelter us yet: Phaon I must chide,  
For trying with your Flattery to raise my Pride.   Ph. 

Dear Amarillis, be that far from me,  
I know not where those flattering Regions be,  
That by Mankind so much are visited;  
But this I know, that you are fair indeed.  
The Queen of Beauty triumphs in your Face;  
To you the Shepherdesses all give place:  
The Shepherds sigh for you with pleasing pain,  
Each seeks with care your favour first to gain.   Am. 

Should I think so, I must myself deceive;  
How can she conquer, that does Captive live?   Ph. 

Captive! to whom! what Mortal is so blest  
With Charms, or Parts that can give you unrest!  
What Virtue is to sush perfection grown!  
All that Mankind dare claim, were it in one,  
Can ne'er the peace that guards your Breast dethrone.   Am. 

I thought so once, but now I find too plain,  
And, blushing must confess, my thoughts were vain.   Ph. 
Less than a Monarch can't your Heart subdue  Am. 

No, my meek Soul ambition's Air ne'er dre●  
Pardon me, Phaon, when I say 'tis you.   Ph. 

Oh! heavens, what Rapture, what a maze I'm in;  
O! Speak dear Saint, breath those blessed words again.  
Let Angels take 'em at the first rebound  
And to the World with golden Trumpets sound,  
That unexpected, I a Heaven on Earth have found.   Am. 

O! Spare the Blushes of a yielding Maid,  
Who to your Arms, the God of Love betrayed:  
Take, take the willing Prize— and bened unkind  
To say, when discontent disturbs your mind,  
How easy Amarillis to be won you find.   Ph. 

Never, my Angel,— dearest, greatest bliss;  
But count this day, my day of happiness.    

The Happy Choice.  
A Poem.  

1.  
WITH that Part of the World, which like a Sea  
Provoked by Storms, to mount and ross her waves;  
I find I never calmly shall agree,  
Softer Retirement my attention craves:  
Where noisy Business reigns, the place I'll shun,  
And at sweet leisure pity those that strive  
And toil their youth away to be undone  
By growing old before they know they live.   

2.  
For at the best, the sweet of Earthly Joy  
Has mixtures in it, Wormwood bears a part,  
And much allays or does the force destroy  
Of Bliss, that should exalt the trembling heart,  
Which makes me smile, when selvelins fiercely drive,  
And Croued and Buz with busy murmurings  
To snatch the Honey from the guarded Hive,  
And undergo the Torment of a thousand Stings.   

3.  
Whilst those that freed from Crowds in little state,  
Truly enjoy themselves, and happy are;  
And to themselves can true content create,  
When others are themselves a Civil War.  
Then grant, ye kinder Fates, e'er to my Grave  
Death with his frosty Breath bids me begun,  
E'er in exchange for Shades this Light I leave,  
And in Eternal Gloom forget the Sun.   

4.  
That in some Rural Cottage I may dwell  
With Sylvan Scene surrounded where the Hills  
Clad in their native green do gently swell,  
Where flowery Vales spread Odours, where the trills  
of silver Brooks, or mazey Rivulets run  
Kissing their winding Banks, whilst brouzing Flocks  
With tender blateings do sweet Music tune,  
And cover all the Plains with fleecy Locks.   

5.  
There out of found ambitions reach I'd be,  
Contemplate the Creation, and in it  
The glorious wise Creating Deity;  
Of whom the Creatures are the Counterfeit.  
In sacred Solitude, O Let me spend  
The unfledged moments that are yet to move:  
Desiring nothing there may me attend,  
But Thoughts that wait upon celestial Love.    

The Bold Adventurer made Captive: Or, LOVE'S Conquest.  
A Poem.  

HOw bold and rash is fond unthinking Man!  
With what Proud hast he flies to be undone,  
And meets a Ruin that would come too soon.  
This I, unhappy I, too late have found,  
Concluding I was proof against each Wound  
That Love could give; I durst behold those Eyes  
To which my heart is made a Sacrifice.  
With Lightning Armed, they shot a pointed pain,  
And in my Soul soon fixed the fatal bane;  
Each Part a swift cold trembling seized, the Guard  
Of Life seemed Conquered, and her Gates unbar'd;  
As when a bright destroying Angels breathe  
The Plague blows in, and with it hasty death:  
Or when by some Infernal Fiend possess't,  
Inly disturbed by the Intruding guest,  
The man stairs wildly, foams, and knows not why;  
But straight concludes he instantly must die.  
Such was th' Alt'ration that In me appeared,  
For Tyrant Love, whom least of all I feared,  
Had gained the Fortress, and soon let me know  
I must accept of Terms he would bestow,  
Since I was Prisoner at discretion made,  
His Arbitrary Power must be obeyed:  
I found him then less generous than Death;  
For he in's rage, ne'er spares the conquer'd's breath:  
But cruel Love, with barbarous Mercy saves,  
The vanquished wretches lives to make 'em slaves;  
Yet finding no way but to yield, I cried,  
Hard Master, I'm your Slave, and must abide  
Whatever your severity will do,  
And beg that my hard task you'd let me know:  
And yet I dread, since Pride, scorn, and disdain,  
Continual watch, Storms and tedious pain,  
You those enjoin to suffer, over whom you reign;  
Some at your Gally's Oars with endless toil,  
Like Sissaphus, do drudge, and han't one smile  
To recompense their Pain— they sigh, but find  
Those sighs serve but to rouse the sleeping wind.  
Some like the Memphian Tyrant, you do doom  
To waste their Lives in building of a Tomb.  
Others are put with sad and lingering Art  
To work i'th' Quarries of a stoney Heart:  
But of the various works you do assign,  
It will best please your Slave to dig the Mine.    

To a Proud and Jilting Mistress.  
A Poem.  
Madam,  

I Own your Charms, I own you fair;  
Yet bright as you, is a Malignant Star:  
Your Eyes have flame, and scatter beams of light,  
Unguarded hearts with careless wounds to smite.  
Swift to destruction as th' amasing Fire  
That through the Clouds does sally and retire.  
So from the hot Basilisks burning Eyes,  
Through trembling Air the darted Poison flies,  
Which winged by Death, can distant lives surprise.  
Beauteous you are, as Morn e'er from the bed  
Of Sea-born Thetis, Phoebus lifts his head  
To sip the Pearly dews on Flora's Glory shed.  
Gay as the Clouds, his early Beams enfold,  
Whose fleecy Skirts seem Purple fringed with Gol●  
Yet cruel, as Diana, whose dire Rites  
Nothing but humane Sacrifice delights:  
The gazing wretch your charming Smiles ensnare,  
To make him sure is all your Pride and Care;  
But when he's so, you feed him with Despair.  
So in her Lybian Laire the Panther rests,  
Drawing about her the admiring Beasts  
To view her damasked Skin hiding her head,  
That their approaches may be without dread;  
But in her reach advanced, she grasps 'em fast,  
And makes that dear-bought Gaze to be their last.  
Hard fate of Mankind thus to be deceived;  
Why is that noble thing of sense bereaved,  
To wander like a lated Traveller,  
Till in a mazey Labarinth he tyre,  
In vainly following a misguiding Fire?  
Is there no way to break the wretched chain?  
Must those you snare be pined away in pain?  
The God of Love ne'er gave such Power to you;  
Then you usurp a Tyranny that's new:  
If so, your Empire over hearts will fail,  
Against your Charms, new Plots will still prevail:  
Amongst the Brave, this one must needs take place,  
That Cruelty makes black a beauteous face;  
All wounds you smile, you cure by your disdain,  
And 'tis by Kindness you can only reign.    

The Happy Adventure.  
A Poem.  

WHen the bright Sun was hover o'er the brink  
Of Amphitrit, Blushing, as loath to sink  
Into his watery Bed, when cooler Air  
The scorching heat had banished, when the fair  
And charming Maids in spreading shades delight,  
Charmed by the Tuneful Singer of the Night,  
Whose timely lays call on the Vesper Star,  
And tell the World the shades approaching a'r:  
Love, that had stormed my Heart, my Mind oppressed,  
Which made me seek to hush my Cares in rest:  
But Sleep, that to the lowly Cottages  
Is still a Friend, and flies from Palaces;  
Long time denied to aid my willing Eyes,  
And left me open to Love's Tyrannies;  
Against whose force, I own I struggled long,  
But grew more weak, and found the God more stro●  
A face I had beheld beauteous as day,  
Yet Transient like a Vision it passed away;  
This Substance gone, the bright Idea stayed,  
And in my heart a deep Impression made:  
I fancied still the lovely form in view,  
I wished or fancied, that with Joy I flew  
Into her trembling Arms, and found her kind,  
Whom I alas knew not where then to find:  
Tossed like the Sea, when forced by winds it raves,  
And in tumultuous Waters finds its waves,  
My Thoughts were bandied between Hope and F●  
Like Sailors on the brink of black Despair:  
I often wished and sighed as those for day,  
Who in some Wilderness have lost their way,  
Mantled with Darkness, and paved all with dread,  
And by their fears, through Thorns and Briars lead  
When Light had banished tedious Darkness, when  
Through the Grey dawn Sol's Infant beams were see  
Starting from bad Repose, abroad I went,  
In hopes the Fields would yield me some content.  
But ah— the Fever still possessed my Mind,  
The Fire burned inward, whilst I cried, be kind,  
Be kind, you Powers that rule the Orb of Love,  
Produce the Cause or let your flames more gently mo●  
This scarce was said, but as if Heaven gave way,  
And this to Crown my life should be the Day.  
Upon a Grotto near, I cast my Eyes,  
Whence Light showered forth, that struck me with in prize  
As when Aeneas saw the Golden bough,  
That was his Passport through the Realms of woe:  
What it should mean, I paused a while to find,  
And to advance I often was inclined;  
But fearing to profane the mystic Bower,  
Struck with an awe it held some bright supernal Power;  
I trembling, made retreat, faint and amazed,  
Blaming myself that I so long had gazed.  
Just as I thought to leave the happy ground,  
Methought my Ears were blest with a soft sound,  
Which gently whispered, 'twas the beauteous She  
Whose lovely Eyes had Captivated me.  
This raised new Life, as when (benumbed with cold,  
On beds of Snow) the Snake in many a fold  
Lies motionless, as if all life was gone,  
Is from a seeming death raised by the Sun.  
Resolved and desperate grown, I now advanced;  
Love winged my steps, no more I stood entranced;  
But found the murmur true it was the same,  
The lovely She that kindled first my flame:  
She started at my rude approach and blushed,  
But on my Knees, with tears her fears I hushed;  
And as my words could ut'rance find, I laid  
In sighs my Love before the Charming Maid,  
When she began to doubt I meant her Ill,  
I barred by Breast, and bid her boldly kill  
The Man she feared, and from those fears be free,  
Surrendering my unsheathed Sword, whilst she  
Her Eyes, that sparkled Goodness fixed on me.  
And though to show her strength of Mind she strove,  
A sigh escaped her Lips, they trembling move;  
Down dropped the unused Weapon from her hand,  
Two Pearly tears stole from her Eyes, no Land  
Was ever watered with so rich a Shower;  
And now to fear, or chide, she lost the Power;  
Yet softly cried, and must I so soon yield?  
Can my weak Heart no longer keep the Field?  
Ravished with Joy at what I heard, Again,  
With Sighs redoubled, I for love complain,  
With all the tender things that I could say,  
I strove into her heart to find more way:  
Protested that my Fever was so great,  
That on my fading Life the Grave did wait,  
There I must lie, unless she stayed my Fate.  
'Gainst this she urged the Rules of Modesty  
Too short Acquaintance to ground Constancy.  
men's hot desires from real love Estranged,  
Their fickle Fancies, and how oft they changed;  
How soon they weary grow, when Women yield;  
How Pauled their thoughts are when they get the field  
And much more urged, to which I straight replied,  
Though some within their heart dare falsehood hid,  
Which cannot by the wise be justified:  
The Sex must not be branded for the few  
That dare do ill, since there are Thousands true;  
Whose love like heavens swift Fire don't come and go.  
But truly loving ever will do so.  
'Tis not Acquaintance that does Love create  
From tedious Converse it has not its Date,  
But from the Soul, moved by the wheels of Fate.  
Then I Protested by herself, And all  
The Powers Immortal did to witness call—  
That if she could believe, to Vows give trust,  
I ever would be Constant, ever Just:  
Or when I failed to be so, might I find  
A Punishment uncommon to Mankind—  
That me hot Lightn'ning armed with Death might meet,  
And burnt to Atoms trampled under feet.  
This earnest Language did her Soul surprise,  
And straight I saw a yielding in her Eyes:  
She sighed and blushed, and for a time was mute,  
And then in a soft tone, she said, your suit  
Carries the Type of honour in its front,  
And Generosity does wait upon't.  
What shall I say!— Excuse my blushes— Love,  
If yielding, I your Reason must approve;  
Take the fond Prize? whereat with eager haste  
Raptur'd with Joy, my Arms I round her cast,  
Imprinted on her ruby lips a kiss,  
And dated from that moment all my bliss.    

The Disconsolate Lover comforted at last.  
A Poem.  

BEneath the thickness of the gloomy shade.  
A Place for Sorrows sad Retirement made;  
Where brooding Night spreads her eternal Wings,  
On rising shadows that through Conduits springs,  
In blackest shapes which not the Lamp of Day  
With all its beams has power to chase away;  
They in substantial Darkness lose their fire,  
Whilst to th' Empyrean source all streams or Light retire.  
I set me down to breathe my bailful grief  
In hopes (disburdened so) to find relief,  
And this sad place I filled with Plaints and Cries,  
Pouring two Rivers from my flowing Eyes;  
But soon I found my Laments were invain,  
And only Echo answered me again.  
Ah wretched youth, I cried, and to my cry,  
Ah wretched youth, she sadly made reply,  
Never, never, then said I, must she  
Be by the Fates compelled to pity me,  
Who through excess of Love for her must die;  
No, never, never, Echo made reply.   

Then have I loved invain; in vain, said I?  
In vain, in vain, again she made reply.  
With that a rending sigh broke from my breast  
Succeeded by a Groan I long suppressed;  
Which gave the Flame that in-ly burned new vent,  
And words ensued that long were Prisoners penned:  
No more, said I, will I be answered so,  
For I to shades more Dark than these will go;  
Since I instead of Balm have Poison found,  
That rankles, and more deadly makes the wound  
Which breathed unutterable Pains before,  
Compared with which those great Alcides bore  
When he the blood-dipt Shirt of Nessus wore,  
Would seem but light, yet thus long I have tried  
To live in hopes she would be mollified;  
But since no hopes appear, nought but despair  
Horribly grins a ghastly smile, and dare  
Deride me shakeled in Love's fatal snare:  
Death the more welcome of the two, make haste;  
With that I laid me down to sleep my last.  
The trembling Earth shook as its face I pressed,  
The solid Rock a hollow Groan expressed:  
And now to die, I calmly did prepare,  
When sounding of approaching feet I hear,  
Which made me linger on the verge of life,  
A Truce with Death I made, content with grief  
Till I might learn who in that dismal Grove  
Had kindly heard my moan, when straight my Love,  
The cause of all my woes came rushing in,  
By Fate directed or some Power Divine,  
With pointed Rays of Light so bright she shone,  
That all the Hellborn fogs with speed retire,  
Her Beauty's force they were compelled to own,  
Who had derided the Celestial Fire.  
Amazed at first, I stood by her unseen;  
Amazed, as if I thunderstruck had been:  
When she cried, this must be the place my Dream  
Told me I must Aminta's life redeem:  
Too hard has been his trial, I relent;  
And could I find him yet by Grief unspent,  
I would be kind, and set my Prisoner free;  
But ah! I fear cold Death has done't for me:  
Though in a sadder way, if so, I'll Mourn,  
And drop a silent Tear upon his Urn;  
Hang o'er his little Grave my drooping Head,  
And sigh and say, Alas for me! he's dead.  
Revived at this, my scattered Powers collect,  
And crawling towards her with low respect,  
Ah! me I cried, can Heaven be yet so kind,  
That in the shades of Death I Life should find,  
A Voice so doleful made her start aside,  
Supposing it my Ghost so faint I cried;  
But finding her mistake she led me thence,  
And for my tedious woes made Recompense.  
Now in th' Eternal spring of Joy and Love,  
All day securely uncontrolled I rove;  
All night lie panting on her yielding Breast,  
Soft as the Clouds where little Angels rest,  
More Fragrant than the Phoenix Spicy Nest.  
Come all you Lovers come, rejoice with me,  
Forget your Pain, since such Rewards there be:  
Since mighty Love can make us all obey,  
Can change our Night to Everlasting Day,  
And such Large Interest for our Service pay.    

Instructions for Female Courtship: Or, The Maidens made Capable of Wooing within the Bounds of Modesty.  A Dialogue between Cynthia and Infanta. Cin. 
MIss, you are but Young yet, and ought not to inquire into these Affairs—  Inf. 
Though as yet I am but young, forsooth, I hope I shall be older; and it will not be amiss to learn when I'm young, that I may be better able to practice as occasion serves hereafter.  Cin. 
Practice what, I prithee?  Inf. 
Why the Art of making Love, forsooth.  Cin. 
How!— making Love!— why, silly Girl, it is not the Custom for Maids to make Love; but with patience and Modesty to expect the Addresses of Young Men—  Inf. 
Nay, as for the Custom, I am not very well acquainted with it; but I have heard my Elder Sister who was Married the last year, much exclaim against the Proud or overnice Female that brought up that foolish Custom which has proved so Prejudicial to the Sex— and say, if she had not in some measure dispensed with its severity, she might have lived till her Maidenhead had turned to mould● Cheese—  Cin. 
Why Miss, you talk very merrily— But did she tell you all this—  Inf. 
Avads she did, and a great deal more than I can remember; and methinks it was so pretty and pleasing, that I took delight to hear it;— Nay you told me too, you would inform me how I should spur up my Sweetheart, when I have got one—  Cin. 
I did so, pretty Missey; and to be plain with you, many a good Sweetheart is lost for want of knowing how to manage 'em; for some are such dull Jades that they must as you say, be spurred with quick Glances, amorous Smiles, and a gentle squeeze of the Hand, a touch on the Foot with the Toe, and the like, or they'll tyre and grow sick of a tedious wooing before they come to the end of it.  Inf. 
O! Gemeny— why this is contrary to the received Custom to some purpose— But pray how must it be brought to pass without exceeding the Rules of Modesty, or saving us from the reproach of our Fondness.  Cin. 
There are ways that a Virgin may make her Love known, and yet secure herself from the Injunction of folly and fondness.  Inf. 
As how, forsooth— As how— Pray let me know how the foolish Custom of staying till we are Courted, and in a manner to be forced to accept of what we most desire may be dispensed withal, that better days may ensue; for certain it is, that frequently Men and maids at one and the same time have had one and the same desire, yet being restrained by fear and shame, have suffered the greatest Torments that Love can inflict, and those are not easy, when by a right understanding the Cure had been instantly wrought, and a world of Felicity ensued; and surely it must be grievous to a Lovesick Virgin, who restrained by Custom for fear forsooth of offending Modesty, that though the Remedy may easily be had, she dares not ask for it.  Cin. 
You are in the right on't; and many for want of a little Confidence, live all their lives languishing. and at last are forced to be at the Trouble of carrying their Maidenheads to Heaven, when they might have been Merchantable Ware upon Earth, had they been promoted in the Market. To prevent this, when the Youth addresses though in words, you must seem somewhat reserved; yet by fixing your Eyes now and then upon him taking them suddenly off, and blushing a little to set a better Grace upon the Matter, let him see, if he be not so dull as not to understand that kind of Love-language, that there is no Reason for him to despair, you may the better to confirm him, as you are talking, clap your Hand upon his, and suddenly withdraw it, as if it happened by mistake; Tread softly, as you find fit opportunity, upon his Toe, and seem to start, as if something more than ordinary were under your foot, and when he takes you by the Hand to lead you, seem to stumble a little, and then grasp him fast, and suddenly recover yourself with a blush as if your had offended; when he looks wishfully upon you, wink a little and turn away your Head, clapping your hand over your Eyes, and suffer a gentle Sigh to escape you; and when in the Dance he chooses you above the rest, turn aside your Head and faintly excuse it ● yet so that he may find a yielding in your Eyes; when he offers to Kiss you, turn your Head a little and give him your Cheek, fetching a sigh at the same time, as if you were somewhat unwilling; and is he put the Question to you about Marriage, tell him it is a weighty Business, and you must advise with your Friends before you know what to determine.  Inf. 
Why this is to the life, and I don't doubt but I shall remember it against the time I have occasion to use it.  Cin. 
This prevails insensibl, and chains a Lover more than Severity.— But see your Mother comes, we must-retire.   

Memphia to Menacles: or, The forsaken Lady's Epistle to her Wanderer, etc.  
A Poem.  

WHat is the thing called Love, we so much prize,  
In which each Maiden hopes a treasure lies;  
Hopes and Desires with longing eager hast  
Those flattering falls alluring sweets to taste:  
'Tis like that Apple with a golden Rhind,  
That men near the Butumnius Lake oft find  
Gaudy and pleasing to delude the Eye;  
Yet in that Rhind, Cinders and Ashes lie.  
How far are they deceived who hope invane  
A lasting Lease of Joys from Love t' obtain  
Who think it fair and Court it with such pain.  
All the dear sweets they Promise or expect  
After Enjoyment turns to cold neglect:  
Could Love a constant happiness have known,  
The mighty wonder had to me been shone.  
Our Passions were so favoured by our Fate,  
As if it meant 'em an Eternal date  
So kind He looked such tender words he spoke,  
'Twas past belief such Vows should e'er be broke:  
Fixed on my Eyes how often would he say,  
He could with Pleasure Gaze an Age away;  
When thoughts too great for words had made him mute,  
In kinder Kisses he would tell his Suit;  
So great his Passion was, so far above  
The Common Gallantries that pass for Love.  
At worst I thought if he should prove unkind  
His ebbing Passion I should truer find,  
Than are the Transports of a vulgar Mind.  
Nor was my Love or Fondness more than his,  
In him I centred all my Earthly bliss:  
For him my Duty to my Friends forgot;  
For him I lost, alas, what lost I not?  
Fame all the valuable things of life,  
To meet his Love by a less Name than Wife.  
How happy was I then, how dearly blest  
When that loved Man lay panting on my breast,  
Sighing such things as ne'er can be expressed.  
A thousand kind smiles he gave me every hour  
Whilst greedily I did each look devour,  
Till quite overcome with Charms I trembling lay,  
At every look he gave melted away  
Like falling Snow before the Lamp of Day.  
I was so highly happy in my love,  
Methoughts I pitied those that dwelled above.  
Think than thou Charming Lovely'st falsest Man,  
How you have Vowed, how I have loved and than  
My faithless Dear, be cruel if you can.  
How I have loved, I cannot need, not tell;  
No, every Act has shown I loved too well:  
Since first I saw you, I ne'er had a thought,  
Was not entirely yours, to you I brought  
My Virgin Innocence to you my heart  
Filled with the tenderest Kindness did impart,  
Since when  been the Star by which I steered,  
And nothing else but you I loved or feared:  
Your smiles I live by, when you frown, I must  
Sink in cold shades, and there revert to dust.  
Oh! can the coldness you dare show me now  
Suit with the generous Passion with the Vow,  
The solemn Promise you'd be ever true:  
Or should you pity her you now neglect,  
She cannot live on Pity or Respect—  
A thought so mean would her whole Love annoy,  
Less than your Love she scorns Sir, to enjoy.  
Let me not live on dull Indiff'rency,  
But give me Rage enough to make me die:  
For if from you I needs must meet my Fate,  
Before your Pity, I would choose your Hate.    

MENACLES to MEMPHIA: Or, A Poem In Answer to the foregoing, etc.  
Madam,  

WHat makes you of your Fate complain?  
WhAe maketh you writ to me in such a strain?  
If ye're deceived, it is not by my Cheat;  
For all Disguises are below the Great.  
What Man or Woman upon Earth can say  
I ever used 'em well above a Day?  
How is it then, that I inconstant am?  
He changes not, who always is the same.  
In my dear self I centre every thing;  
My Servants, Friends, my Mistress, and my King;  
Nay, Heaven and Earth to that one point I bring:  
Well-manered, Honest, Generous and Stout,  
(Names by dull Fools to Plague Mankind found out)  
Should I regard I must myself constrain:  
And 'tis my Maxim to avoid all pain.  
You fond look for what none e'er could find,  
Deceive yourself, and then call me unkind:  
And by false Reasons would my falsehood prove,  
For 'tis as natural to change as love:  
You may as justly at the Sun repine,  
Because alike it does not always shine.  
No Glorious thing was ever at a stay,  
My blazing Star but visits and away;  
As fatal too it, shines as those i'th' Skies,  
'Tis never seen but some kind Female dies.  
The boasted favour you so precious hold,  
To me's no more than changing of my Gold;  
What e'er you gave, I paid you back in bliss,  
And where's the obligation, Pray, in this?  
If heretofore you found Grace in my Eyes  
Be thankful for it, and let that suffice;  
But Women-Beggar like, still haunt the door,  
Where  received a Charity before.  
O! happy Sultan, whom we Barbarous call  
How much art thou refined above us All  
Who Envies not the Joys of thy Serail  
Thee like some God the Trembling croued adore,  
Each Man's thy Slave, each Woman is thy W—  
Methinks I see thee underneath a shade  
Of golden Canopy supinely laid;  
Thy crowding Slaves all silent as the Night,  
But at thy Nod all active as the Light.  
Secure in solid sloth thou there dost reign,  
And feelest the Joys of Love without the pain;  
Each Female courts thee with a willing eye,  
Whilst thou with awful Pride walkest careless by,  
Till your kind Pledge marks ou● the charming Da●  
You fancy most to quench your present flame:  
Then she submissive from your Arms retires,  
And thankful for that Grace no more requires:  
No loud Reproach, nor fond  sound  
Of women's Tongues your calmer Ears does wound  
If any do a nimble mute strait ties  
The true Love-knot, and stops her foolish cries;  
Thou fearest not injured Kinsman's threatening Blade,  
Nor midnight Ambushes by Rivals laid;  
Whilst here with aching hearts our Joys we taste,  
Disturbed by Swords, like Dimocles' Feast,  
And scarce in the enjoyment can have rest.    

Advice to a Dejected Lover.  
A Poem.  

HOw now brave Swain! Why art thou thus cast down?  
Can Amarillis Scorn, or Angry frown?  
The gay, the witty, and the bold destroy,  
And cut his days off in Abortive Joy;  
Make sullen Grief sit on his manly face,  
And black Dispeir in his great Soul take place,  
And to the Noble facculties give chase:  
Brooding a thousand Monsters in a breast,  
Which lately was a Stranger to unrest,  
Calm as the Seas where Halcyons build their nest.  
For shame rouse up, consider well the cause,  
The worthless Reason, prithee Strephon pause,  
And be advised, consider 'tis a Woman,  
A thing that was for Mankind made in common,  
Though fatal to the first that e'er enjoyed,  
And since more fatal Millions has destroyed;  
But if you will go on more calmly move,  
Be braver in your Courtship, bold in Love,  
She is a Woman, and she may be won,  
The best of Women was but made for Man.  
By your Dijection she more Power does gain,  
And Tyrant like promotes her Captives pain,  
Glories to think she can so proudly reign.  
Make her believe at least your Soul's called back,  
Pants after Fame, no Language else can speak;  
But why should he dissemble who ne'er knew  
Upon what wings dissimulation flew,  
When half the World she to her Party drew.  
Be then yourself if she your suit despise,  
The Charmer and her Charms no longer prize,  
View unconcerned the  of her Eyes;  
Smile when she smiles, frown when she frowns, and be  
From her weak Chains for ever after free.    

A Pastoral Dialogue between Damon and Celia, or the Mutual Accusation.  Celia, 
YOu have forgot then Damon your protest,  Dam. 
No, I have have not Celia 'tis confessed;  Cel. 

But yet I saw you slide  
A Garland neatly tied,  
Into Vranias' hand let that suffice,  
Though Love be Blind, Lovers have many Eyes   Dam. 
Can you appear so strangely full of Passion,  Bel. 
Have I not cause to fear dissembled Love's in fashion.  Dam. 

Then why did you I pray  
With Doris Sport and Play,  
You kissed and danced till Day was past its prime,  
And all the while my Heart did beat the Time.   Cel. 
May I not Dance, or harmlessly be Kissed?  Dam. 
As well I may give Garlands where I list:  Cel. 

But when you are so free,  
Methinks you steal from me:  
For every Lover will this Text approve,  
There's Charity in all things, but in Love.   Dam. 
That day the Storm did fall,— to be true you swno●  Cel. 

When the Sun shined again,  
You did Vow much more.   Dam. 

Those faithful Vows I made,  
Were by yourself betrayed:  
For I have learned to know it is my due,  
To be no constanter in Love than you.   Cel. 

Come, come no more! we both will constant prove,  
Cast Jealousy aside, and take up Love.   Dam. 

If so let's hast to make all sure, bed-Wed:  
For wrangling Lovers, love best when in Bed.    

The Appointment.  
A Poem.  Phil. 

THis is the Place, the Way, I thought it long,  
And my slow pace did my Affections wrong;  
For who is he that would not wing his haste,  
When by Dorinda's Eyes he shall be Graceed.  
The lovely Shepherdess that can enthral  
A thousand Hearts, and them her Captives call:  
By right of Conquest: nay, her kill Eyes  
Are such no Armour can resist their Rays.  
Those Eyes that perfectly two Suns present,  
When the large Skies with one must be content;  
The Colour of her Lips, the budding Rose,  
Or Rubies in their Richest Pride outshows.  
Her Face a Beauty wears, that might Entice:  
The first made Man, when Lord of Paradise.  
The Lambs are fatter that by Her are fed,  
And all her Ewes more frequently do breed,  
Than any Shepherds yielding every year  
A larger Fleece than any others bear:  
As if She brought a Miracle to pass,  
Fed them more with her Looks, than with the Grass.  
If then She'll deign when I with others stand  
To beg the favour from her Eyes and Hand:  
To cast on me a gentle Glance or Smile,  
And so my Fears and Cares with hope beguile;  
How shall I swell with Joy, my heart will be  
Taught then the Sense of True Felicity.  
But soft— methinks from yonder Grove I hear,  
Voices that are familiar to my Ear;  
Shall I stay here, or fly to meet the sound,  
It may be Her's that gave my heart the wound:  
'Twas Her Command that this should be my Post  
But hark— the Voice is louder— whilst I boast:  
My strict Obedience She perhaps is lost.  
Some rude Swain emboldened by the Place,  
May force my Angel to his Damned Embrace.  
Ha! that known Screich must needs be hers with speed,  
Thither i'll hast and if my fears succeed:  
If any dare but touch her with a thought,  
My Anger gives him Death for what he sought.  
I'll heap such Vengeance on his Cursed Head,  
That all the World shall say it's well He's dead.  [Goes out and returns.] 
The sound deceived my Ear, it was not she,  
But Rural Lasses with their Swains more free;  
Yet in their Frolics seemed not to agree.  
So blushing Virgins that are early led,  
To taste the Joys of a kind Marriage Bed:  
Feign some unwillingness, seem to retire,  
From Pleasures that their Souls so much desire;  
But— see my Saint approaches through the Grow  
She casts a Beam bright as the Queen of Love;—  
Fairest of all the Sun's large Beams surround,  
For this great Favour bending to the Ground:  
A thousand Thanks your Shepherd does return,  
And witness all you Fires that nightly burn,  
And stud Cerulian Skies with Seeds of Light,  
If in my Soul love's Flame shine not as bright:  
Yet burns in Pain, and endless must endure,  
Unless you— fair Physician make the Cure.   Oneone. 

O! Rise my Shepherd for your Pain I'm grieved,  
And if by me your Smart can be relieved:  
My Honour saved i'll yield to your Demand,  
And as a Pledge of This give you my Hand:  
But if beyond you ask I must be mute,  
Not understanding, but reject your Suit.   Pha. 

O! Let not such a Thought possess my Fair,  
My Kind, my Lovely, my Enchanting Dear:  
Whose awful Virtue carries such a Dread,  
As should a Ravisher attempt, 'twould strike him dead:  
Believe me fair One, chaste is every Thought  
Of which the feavorish Passion of Mind is wrought,  
As those into the World by Infants brought.   One. 

Then cease vain Fears send Cares to Banishment  
My Heart is Conquered, and to Lovely I'm bend;  
As far as Honour will submit I do,   Pha. 

Then at this Shrine I'll ever pay my Vow.  
The Joys so great, so much surprising is,  
Methinks I taste of Everlasting Bliss.  
Transported thus, I ever here could gaze,   One. 

Pray be more Calm, Danger's bred delays:  
We have not reached the Hight at which Love aims,  
A Phoenix soon dies in her own Flames:  
And Lovers when to Ecstasy they grow,  
Urge envious Fortune to their overthrow.   Pha. 

Fortune's too feeble to anticipate,  
Thus Blessed We are above the Reach of Fate:  
Methinks we sit on Clouds and pity throw,  
Upon the moiling World that lies below:  
So happy that beyond it none I'd know.    

— The Surprise— or, True Friendship.  
A Poem.  Enters Philander alone, etc. Phil. 

LOng have I mourned, and yet have no relief  
Because She knows not of my kill Grief  
Long have I Loved, and have no Love yet shown,  
For why, I dare not make my Sorrows known;  
I fear Disdain more than the slaughtering King,  
At Death s approach I could glad Triumphs sing.  
Were I but sure She'd dtop a Tear and own  
She pitied me thus by My Love undone?  
But Ah— should I with frowns be Thunderstruck  
Should the fierce Lightning of her Eyes unlock:  
With not to be resisted fire my Breast,  
And let my Soul out, it could find no Rest.   Enters Primenio his friend who had overheard his Passion. Pri. 

No longer hid these sorrows from your friend  
But breathe them in my Breast, there let them end.  
Friends that by Bonds as strong as Death are tied,  
Should nothing by the Laws of Friendship hid:  
Where Souls entwined are thoughts should move mon● free●  
United Hearts and Bodies one should be;  
One Labouring of Mind should each possess,  
Sorrows divided like a stream grows less:  
Say is it Love— Alas! it is too plain,  
Dull Eyes, short sighs, hot breath no less proclaim:  
Speak, speak my Friend what Goddess must she be,  
That could the Mighty Conquest gain o'er Thee.   Phil. Primenio, 

spare me by our Friendships' ties,  
By all those Bonds, by all those tender Joys:  
That knit and nursed our Souls in during Love,  
Like that of Saints in fellowship above.  
Forbear to search a wound that inward bleeds;  
Which as it is, all Pain on earth exceeds.   Prim. 

How can I claim in Friendship the least share,  
Or think at all you for my friendship care?  
If I desist to tender you relief;  
Or you refuse to let me know your grief?   Phil. 

In other Cases all my Breast I'd bore;  
But dearest Friend, in this, the wretched spare:  
Who would be private—   Prim. 
Then the Cause is Love.  Phil. 

Seek not from me the secret to remove.  
Endure I must, yet you' ere this had known,  
My Tortures cause, had my hear been my own;  
But 'tis not mine, nor moves it at my will,  
A greater Power it's tender Orb does fill,  
And there must reign till th' wheels of Life stand still.   Prim. 

What makes you tremble then, and grudge the sway?  
If destined by your Stars, you must obey.   Phil. 

There is a mighty cause— so you will say.  
When you know Phoenixlike, in flames I fry,  
And she who kindled them (for whom I die)  
Is ignorant my Fate shot from her Eye.   Prim. 

O! where's that Courage then as bold as bold as Death,  
Which late like a destroying Angels breathe  
Scattered its way with Ruin, famed in Wars;  
Yet nobly Brave, as melting Conquerors.   Phil. 

Alas, 'tis sunk— Against the pointed flame  
Of Beauty, who e'er yet durst War Proclaim?  
Or if he durst, he still was foiled with Shame:  
Forced to surrender, and his Trophies yield.   Prim. 

Yet 'tis too tame methinks to quit the field  
Without a stroke— make one bold Test and try,  
Parley at lest— her mercy may run high;  
It may be Peace— At last you can but die.   Phil. 

Fain would I venture; but a'as, how near  
Is Love to Impotence? what mighty fear  
Is its Attendant? not the timorous Hare  
Shakes more when by the loud-mouthed Hounds pursued,  
Nor in the Lion's Paws the Hart subdued,  
Before his Jaws are in his blood imbrued:  
Have half the fear of Lovers' who with sighs.  
Ghost-like still wander where their Treasure lies,  
Look wishfully, make signs, yet cannot speak,  
Though with the mighty secret swelled, their Bosom break.   Prim. 

Yet you may breathe your grief fearless to me,  
Into my Soul, and tell what beauteous she  
The mighty Conquest made— whose Slave you be.  
Friendship commands as much— nay, 'tis some ease  
To be disburdened so— Rivers thus roll to Seas—  
And there are lost.   Phil. 

This I must own,  
And tell you that Dorinda rules the Throne,  
Queen of my thoughts she fits— her large commands  
To both the Poles of my Affection stand,  
And o'er my Soul her vast Dominion does expand.   Prim. 
Dorinda.— What, my Sister!— Can it be●  Phil. 

Too sadly true— Primenio, it is she.  
The fair Dorinda, beautiful as Light,  
Whose Eyes bid distance to the shades of Night:  
And when all Stars are clouded they shine bright.  
Dorinda, in whose face all Beauties meet,  
Wherewith a winning Pomp the Graces greet.  
But O! the Beauty of her Soul is more,  
What Gale of Breath can drive me to that shore,  
What Angel tell the Riches there in store.   Prim. 

Philander be yourself— these Raptures spare,  
Dorinda must not claim them as her share.   Phil. 

She must and Ever be Immortal fair:  
O that she would like some kind god look down,  
And smile me but a Joy—   Prim. 

Why, she's your own.  
Grieve then no more, her flame burns bright as yours,  
She the same , the same Pain endures.   Phil. 

O! Flatter not your Friend, raise him not so  
That he may fall alas in deeper woe,  
As distant Thunder gives the greatest blow.   Prim. 

Fear not— I have the secret of her Breast  
Amidst a thousand Sighs and Groans expressed;  
Whilst faint she cried, Philander, give me Rest.  
Ah— pity me, Dorinda for you dies:  
With that a Sea of Tears burst from her Eyes.   Phil. 
Can this be true?  Prim. 
By all that's good it is—  Phil. 
Then thus— I fly to meet my boundless Bliss.   

The true Lover's Happiness: Or, The Reward of Constancy.  
A Dialogue between Celia and Damon.  

The Argument.  
The Tender Blessing of a faithful Love,  
A Satisfaction does to Lovers prove:  
Gives them the happiness they did expect,  
And links their hearts to what they most affect;  
Which here is evident at last both find  
What they desired and prove extremely kind.   Cel. 

INjurious Charmer of my vanquished heart,  
Canst thou fell Love, and yet no pity know,  
Since of myself with thee I cannot part,  
Invent some Gentler way to Let me go:  
For what with Joy thou didst obtain,  
And I with more did give;  
In time will make thee false and vain,  
And me unfit to Live.   Dam. 

Frail Angel that wouldst leave a heart forlorn,  
With vain Pretence falsehood therein might lie,  
Seek not to cast wide shadows o'er your scorn,  
You cannot sooner change than I can die.  
To tedious Life I'll never fall,  
Thrown from thy dear loved breast;  
He merits not to live at all,  
Who cares to live unblessed.   Cel. 

Such were your words when first you did I● vad●  
Upon your Lips the soft temptation hung,  
That has almost undone a yielding Maid,  
By listening to your smooth deluding Tongue:  
But I'll find out a way to ease,  
If you refuse to cure;  
To baffle Love there are more ways,  
Than Death, or to endure.   Dam. 

What proofs of mighty Love have I not show●  
When has Inconstancy o'er me prevailed,  
Thou cruel fair one? what have I not done?  
In what my dear Camilla have I failed?  
But still your Eyes bid me despair,  
Your Actions speak no less;  
Your Tongue indeed alays my fear,  
Yet keeps me from my bliss.   Cel. 

Too soon to trust deluding Man, is know  
A fatal oversight, and does destroy  
Our budding hopes  they are fully blown,  
And gives our Infant-love a short-lived Joy:  
For when we think in softest chains,  
Our Charms have bound them fast;  
The Man that most of all complains,  
Can Love's weak fetters cast.   Dam. 

Scorn and Contempt indeed have Pow'r● loo●  
The nets of Beauty tied with crafty smiles:  
For who would a continued torment prove  
For ever to be baited in the Toils.  
As softest kindness still does stay  
The headstrong Lover's fate,  
So Cruelty prepares the way  
For Lovers to retreat.   Cel. 

Pretence of Cruelty Men make to shade,  
Their falsehood and inconstancy when they,  
Our yielding Virtues have too far betrayed,  
And seek to turn their hearts another way:  
Then and but then you do complain,  
We scorn, we eat, we fly;  
And that they serve us but invain,  
For nought but Cruelty.   Dam. 

Mistake not fairest, to whose brighter Eyes  
I pay Devotion, and am made a slave:  
No Star to me shines brighter in the Skies,  
No other Beauty I on Earth would have.  
To tedious Life I'll never fall,  
Thrown from thy dear loved breast;  
He merits not to live at all,  
Who cares to live unblessed.   Cel. 

To try your Constancy it was I stayed,  
So seemingly regardless of your pain;  
But since a proof sufficient you have made,  
Enjoy Cammilla, and be blest again.   Dam. 

Then let our flaming hearts be joined  
Whilst in that Sacred fire,  
E'er thou prove false, or I unkind,  
Together both Expire— Exeunt.    

The Contemplation of Vanity, or, The Decay of Virtue.  

WHat Pleasures can the gaudy World afford?  
What true delights has Teeming Nature stored  
In her great Warehouse where she lays her treasure  
Alas, 'tis all the shadow of a Pleasure.  
No true Content in all her works are found,  
No solid Joys did e'er on Earth abound:  
Then labouring Man does toil himself invain,  
Eagerly grasping what creates his pain.  
How false and feeble, nay scarce worth a name  
Are Riches, Honour, Power and noisy Fame?  
Yet 'tis for these Men wade through Seas of Blood,  
And bold in Mischief storm to be withstood,  
Which when obtained breed but stupendious care,  
And Parents are of Jealousy and Fear.  
No beam of Comfort, not a Ray of Light  
Shines thence to guide us through eternal Night;  
But left in devious darkness, there we stray,  
And find they lose us in an endless way.  
Virtue's the solid Good of heavenly birth,  
Creating even Felicity on Earth;  
Though Men contemn her ways and put her by,  
Make War against her as an Enemy,  
Because their dearer Lusts she dare control,  
And set a boundared to the madding Soul.  
Therefore in Garments poor she most appears,  
And sometimes scarcely any Garment wears:  
Shunned by the Proud, and by the Worldling crossed,  
Urged to be gone, and wished for ever lost,  
Yet is she loath to leave the wretched coast:  
But in disguise does here and there intrude,  
Striving to conquer black Ingratitude,  
And boldly ventures between while to shine,  
Breathing an Air that speaks her all divine:  
Yet clouded oft it like the Lightning plays,  
Losing as soon as seen its pointed Rays—  
Which scarceness makes those that are weak in W●  
For Virtues self admire the Counterfeit.  
With which false Hypocrites the World delude,  
As men on Indians glass for Gems intrude;  
Because they are unknowing, wild and rude.  
This gives more grief to the celestial Maid  
To have her honour basely so betrayed,  
And to her charge a spurious offspring laid.  
Astrea like, it makes her doubtful stand,  
To see Encroachments on her small command,  
Poising the Scale as if her Mind was driven  
To leave the Earth, and only keep to Heaven.    

Mounsieur Galliard, or, the Humours of the French Dancing-Master.  
In a Dialogue between him, Gulielmus and Julia.  Gall. 
BY my fat and troth it be very much strange that me must wait at 'tis rate— but me be contented to have the little patience, and the rater because me have seen the finest Sport in the World— Me come to the great Man to day, me make de Reverance Alamode Ill faut, and he return me the strangest Sir reverence de tird time that ever me saw.  Gul. 
Why, Mounsieur, you ought to bear with one defect ●●eeing every body has not the activity of your feet.  Gall. 
By my fat 'tis very estrange a thing that they vil suffer a the Man to be near a the King, near a the Queen, they vil marr-a de understanding very much.  Gul. 
Why Mounsieur, as I take it, the understanding lies not in the Foot, but the Head, etc.  Gall. 
Begar you shall de Excuse a me for de Courtier alamode dere de vit Lie in the foot; Be gar de● is no body can be a Eiseman that does not make a d● most Excellent Reverence that is most certain— dat● the best thing in the hole World.  Gul. 
But can you Imagine the Worthies of the● World studied the Liberal Sciences of the foot, ●● puissent toe.  Gall. 
Me no believe they did, but me tink an a● very vel assured that make 'em all die de unfortunate, for if they had think but a de Sir Reverence they might a live a great a vile longer.  Gul. 
I confess the wisdom of it; but for the Wi●, Monsieur, can you imagine that lies there?  Gall. 
Dat be a de best vit can be possible, for your vit vat is it? your vit is to break a de Jest. Dat is like dat a my Lord, that is like dat a de Knight, that is like dat a de Gentlehome Ha-ha-ha, dear is now one two tree very good Jests in making a de Sir Reverence, that make a me sick wid de Laugh— and bega● me make a de Page, a de Lackey, and all a de foo● in the hole Town make a de Jest very Quick, for that ● be very noting.  Gul. 
Not to any purpose, Monsieur.  Gall. 
By my fat and troth me speak to the King and to the Queen to make a de Patten, that none do teach a the Aldermen to make a de Reverence but moy self; and me vil undertake dat wid in a Twelvemont, b●● den they must do noting else— they shall m●ke a de● Reverence wid the Aldermen in de Paris, and Dance● a Coranto, a Cerebran, a Montague, and that vil be very fine.  Gul. 
But what shall the Affairs wherewith they are entrusted, do the mean time, Monsieur?  Gall. 
Is not does a very great Affair?— why, does be very much Affair, be it not? nay, me vil undertake to the King and to the Queen, to make a my Lord More, the Sheriffs, and the Aldermen very fine Mask.  Gul. 
And to write it too?  Gall. 
Ah-de writ, that is noting alamode— your speech two, tree yard long, dshaw give a me de Quick a de Spirit, the Quick a de Fancy, the brave Scene, de variety of de Antimosk, the nimble a de foot— no matter de sens begar it vol be the brave thing in de Christian World.  Gul. 
Very well, Sir.  Gall. 
Nay, me ha' like a the forgot one thing— by my trot if we have an other Patten for de Council Learned in the Law, to teach a dem de Reverence— that vil be very great work, yet moy tilligence and skill in dat a de matter have no despair to effect it in very much time, and that vil make a de Law flourish, and England, brave England, me warrant de.  Gul. 
And what will you look for in Requital for such an undertaking.  Gall. 
Begar me look for very much, 'tis much pain, and 'tis brave thing, beside me look for de Statue de Brass in the Palace yard, when me go out of dis Varle.  Enters to them Mrs. Julia. Julia. 
Your Servant, Monsieur—  Gall. 
Begar me no like a dat Reverence, me vil change dat.  Julia. 
'Tis the French fashion you taught me, Monsieur.  Gall. 
Oy 'tis the french fashoons— but the French fashoons be always to change, and does Reverence displeas a me very much, because you go back vid your buttock, as if some body vod take you by dat to vat me vil give no name— Me tell you trange thing, and me tell you no tale— 'tis great matter to make a de ●or to make a de Lady, to make a de Gentleliome, to make a de Gentlewoman, and the Autermen, to Dance, and to make a de boon Reverence; for begar dat v● make a de King de greatest King in de Varle.  Gul. 
How Sir!— 'tis Impossible that should have such Power and Efficacy.  Gall. 
Not at all me tell you— ven they are so busy to Learn a the Dance they vil never think of de Rebellion, and den de Reverence is Obedience to Monarchy, and begar Obedience is all de thing in de varle.  Julia. 
But Monsieur, what Music would you govern the People by?  Gall. 
Why begar by French Fiddles the best that can be got.  Gul. 
What think you of an Irish Harp, a State Organ, or a Passionate Voice to a Lute?  Gall. 
Des be dull tings— make a de men Malencholique, and den they tink on de Devil de Treason, and do any thing that is no good— but des French Fiddles do fiddle all des tings out of deir heads, vid a Jerk as my foy— make a dem so fantastical that they vil prove as good Subjects as any in France begar— but me can no stay longer, me have altar business vid de Lor and de Lady dat have de use of moy fot.  Julia. 
Nay Mounsieur, you must not go yet by any means.  Gall. 
'Tis no good you hold me— begar me no stay too minutes to save a your Soul— dat is de Resolution of the Cavalier de France— Adieu Madam, Serviture Gentlehome— Exit Monsieur.  Julia. 
Would any man believe there should be so much folly in this Cubit square.  Gul. 
Do but think he's a French Dancing-Master, and the wonder will cease— Exeunt.   

The false Shepherd rejected: A Pastoral Dialogue between Tharsis and Celia.  Tharsis. 
CElia come hither, why are you so coy?  Cel. 
Because ye're false and wound my fame destroy.  Thar. 

You cannot think it— when did I e'er prove  
False or inconstant where I professed Love.   Cel. 

When did your heart and tongue in consort join?  
'Mong'st other Maiden spoils you'd fain place mine.   Thar. 

Let no such thoughts possess fair Celia's Mind,  
To her I ne'er was false, nor ne'er designed  
Any thing less than ever to be kind.   Cel. 

But you to others have as much professed,  
And yet drew back—   Thar. 

Then you above the Rest  
Have Power to conquer, and make me your prize:  
Why should you shun the Captive of your Eyes,  
When at your feet a Victor conquered lies?   Cel. 

But he that once can break his Vows will ne'er  
Be true again, what e'er he say or swear:  
He that with Oaths so easily can dispense,  
We ought to think his words but mere pretence.   Thar. 

Hard fate of Mankind— an ill name to gain;  
But Celia prithee trust your amorous Swain:  
Fear not but he'll be kind— nay, I can give  
Reasons why I Dorinda did deceive:  
And why Florella so soon lost my heart.   Cel. 

The same of me you'll to the World impart;  
Nay, justlyer may upbraid me, since I knew  
What I must trust to; yet durst venture you.  
Therefore false man— Adieu— I'll hear no more.   Thar. 
I'll to another then, for I have store.   

Love's Misfortune: Or, The Unhappy Disappointment.  
A Poem.  

ONe day the amorous Lysander,  
By Impatient Passion swayed,  
Surprised fair Doris, that loved Maid,  
Who could defend herself no longer.  
All things did with his Love conspire,  
The gilded Planet of the day,  
In his gay Chariot drawn by Fire,  
Was just descending to the Sea,  
And left no Light to guide the World,  
But what from Doris Eyes was hurled.   

In a loan Thicket made for Love,  
Silent as yielding Maids consent,  
She with a Charming Languishment  
Permits his force, yet gently striven,  
Her hands his bosom softly meet;  
But not to put him back designed,  
Rather to draw him on inclined,  
Whilst he lay trembling at her feet,  
Resistance 'tis too late to show  
She wants the Power to say Ah! what day' do.   

Her bright Eyes sweet, and yet severe,  
Where Love and Shame confusedly strive,  
Fresh vigour to Lysander give;  
And whispering softly in his Ear,  
She cried, cease— cease— your vain desire,  
Or I'll call out; what would you do!  
My dearer honour even to you,  
I cannot— must not give retire,  
Or take that Life whose chiefest part  
I gave you with the conquest of my heart.   

But he as much unused to fear,  
As he was capable of Love  
The blessed moment to Improve:  
Kisses her Lips, her Neck and Hair,  
Each touch his new desires Alarms:  
His burning trembling hand he pressed  
Upon her melting snowy Breast,  
Whilst she lay panting in his Arms,  
All her unguarded Beauties lie,  
The Spoils and Trophies of the Enemy.  
And now without respect or fear,  
He seeks the object of his vows,  
It's Love no Modesty allows:  
By swift degrees advancing where  
His daring hand that Altar seized,  
Where Gods of Love do Sacrifice  
That awful Throne, that Paradise,  
Where Rage is tamed, and Anger pleased;  
The Living fountain from whose trills  
The melted Soul in balmy Love distils.   

Her Ruby Lips incount'ring his,  
In sweetest union were combined;  
Where both in transports unconfined  
Extend themselves upon the Moss,  
Doris half dead and breathless lay,  
Her Eyes appeared like humid Light,  
Such as divides the Day and Night:  
Or falling Stars whose fires decay:  
And now no sign of Life she shows,  
But what in short breathed Sighs, returns and goes.   

He saw how she Expanded lay,  
He saw her rising Bosom bare;  
Her lose thin Robes through which appear  
A shape designed for Love and Play:  
Abandoned by her Pride and Shame,  
She does her softest sweets dispense,  
Offering her Virgin Innocence,  
A Victim to Love's potent flame;  
Whilst th' o're-ravished Shepherd lies  
Unable to perform the Sacrifice.   

Ready to taste a thousand Joys,  
The too Transported hapless Swain  
Found the vast Pleasure turned to Rain:  
Pleasure which too much love destroys,  
The willing Garment by he laid,  
And Heaven all open to his view;  
Mad to possess, himself he threw  
On the defenceless lovely Maid:  
But oh! what envious Fates conspire  
To snatch his Power, yet leave him the desire.  
Nature's support without whose Aid,  
She can no humane being give,  
Itself now wants the Art to live:  
Faintness its slackened Nerves invade;  
Invain the Enraged Youth essays,  
To call his fleeting Vigour back,  
No motion 'twill from motion take,  
Excess of Love his love betrayed:  
Invain he toils, invain commands  
Th' in sensible fell weeping in his hands.   

In this so Amorous cruel strife,  
Where Love and Fate were too severe;  
The poor Lysander in despair  
Renounced his Reason with his Life:  
Now all the brisk and active fire  
That should the nobler part inflame,  
And left no spark for new desire  
Not all her naked Charms could move,  
Or calm that Rage that had destroyed his Love.   

Doris returning from the trance  
Which Love and soft desire had bred  
Her timorous hand she gently laid,  
Or guided by design or chance  
Upon the Fabulous Priapus,  
That (Potent God) as Poets sing:  
But never did young Shepherdess  
Gathering of Flowers upon the Plain  
To make a Garland for her Swain,  
More nimbly draw her Fingers back—  
Finding beneath their verdant leaves a snake.   

Then Doris her fair hand withdrew,  
Finding that prop of her desires  
Disarmed of his powerful fires,  
And cold as flowers bathed in the Morning dew:  
Who can the Nymph's confusion guests?  
The Blood forsook the kinder place,  
And strewed with blushes all her face,  
Which doth disdain and shame express:  
And from Lysander's Arms she fled,  
Leaving him panting on the gloomy Bed.   

Like Lightning through the Grove she hies,  
As Daphne from the Delphic God;  
No Print upon the grassy Road,  
She leaves t' instruct pursuing Eyes:  
The wind that wantoned in her hair,  
And with her ruffled Garments played,  
Discovered in the flying Maid  
All that e'er Nature made of fair:  
So Venus when her Love was Slain,  
With fear and haste flew o'er the fatal Plain.   

The Nymph's resentments none but I  
Can well imagine or condole;  
Yet none can guests Lysander's Soul.  
But those who swayed his Destiny:  
His silent Grief swelled up to Scorms,  
And nothing now his fury spares:  
He banns his Birth, his Fate, his Stars;  
But more the Shepherdess' Charms:  
Whose soft bewitching Influence  
Had damned him to the depth of impotence.    

An Acrostic on the Name of  

In all (fair Maiden) you are made complete;  
Soft Charming Beauties still attend your State:  
Armed yet with Awe! severe against the Rude;  
But kind and mild to those you have subdued:  
Empress of hearts you are, for there you sway;  
Long may you Rule, and may the World obey.   

Since you so gently shed your Influence,  
And fill with Joy where you your Smiles dispense,  
No Cruelty you use, nor from your Eyes  
Dart proud Disdain, nor can you Tyrannise:  
Reason 'tis then your Virtues men exalt,  
Excuse for your dear sake your Sex's fault:  
Tell to the World what is but rarely known,  
Art, Wisdom, Wit, and Beauty, joined in one.    

An Acrostic on the Name of  

Easie it is for me to say you're Fair,  
Lovely and Virtuous, far beyond compare;  
Injurious unto none, but good to all,  
Stored with those Bleffing that we happy call;  
I this with Ease can say, but when to mind,  
Ah! me I call how you by Vows confined   

Are to a single Life, renouncing Love;  
'Tis then the Tyrant grief his strength does prove:  
I sigh to think such Beauty must be lost,  
More valuable than the Indian Coast:  
Envy so fair a Creature unemployed,  
Should leave the World when made to be enjoyed:  
I magine then some way to Ease my Pain,  
All Vows 'gainst Natures Laws no force retain.    

An Acrostic upon the Name of  

Madam, your Eyes diamonds to me appear,  
And your fair Cheeks Roses and Lilies are;  
Rubies your Lips, your Teeth are Orient Pearl,  
Jacynths your Breasts, your Hair the Amber curl,  
All else does Alabaster whiteness show,   

Save one small Spot, dear Madam, that's below.  
In every part of you rich Beauty lies,  
Rare in each part you take my wondering Eyes,  
Each part has Charms that can a heart surprise:  
Nature was Prodigal when you was made,  
And lavished all the stock of Beauty that she had.    

An Acrostic upon the Name of  

Art need not set you off, for in your face  
Roses and Lilies strive which should take place  
And show that native Beauty is the best;  
Beauty that's borrowed will not stand the Test:  
Each wind or Sunshine that's Intemperate,  
Leaves the Mock-females that do use the Cheat  
Ascorn to such as but too plainly see't.   

Bless Nature then that she has g'in you store  
Of Beauty that compels us to adore:  
Not borrowed, but your own Beauty by Art  
A snare too weak is long to hold a Heart.    

An Acrostic upon the Name of  

Dear Innocence, you little know your Power,  
In Sighs I spend the day in some sad Bower,  
And now and then let fall a tear or two;  
Nor can Night ease the pain I undergo:  
Ah! me what must I do the cause to let you know.   

Should I divulge, it might fill you with fears,  
Yet never please your too to tender years:  
Must I then stay till you to Ripeness grow?  
I would if than I thought you'd favour show,  
Let me consider— yes, it must be so:  
I'll do't and let my Flame in secret bourn,  
And if at last despised dye by your scorn.   

Cast cast an Eye upon a Lovesick Swain  
Lying all pensive on the dusty Plain,  
O! pity him that to himself severe,  
Raised up his Eyes when Cloris you drew near;  
In hopes some vulgar Shepherdess it had been  
Sent to recall me to my Flocks again.   

Detained from which by business long I stayed,  
Ah! me but found I was decelved, betrayed;  
My Sight you dezled, to my Soul gave fire,  
Infeavored all my Blood with strange desire:  
And Death comes next unless you Life Inspire.    

Single Anacrosticks, etc.  

Prepare to Rise, the Day dawns from the East,  
Aurora opes her Gates and to the West  
Rays Tiped with Gold, as swift as Love shafts fly,  
To Light you to the Temple, all the Sky  
Honour's the Day that must your Marriage see:  
Each Bird sings Spousals— hast my Bride then hast,  
No drousiness should these dear Minute's waist:  
In Joydet's wrapour thoughts that transports breed,  
And everlasting Pleasures shall sucdeed.    

An Acrostic.  

PAtience, dear Mistress, and the day will come,  
Endure a while Ulysses will come home,  
Northwinds conspire as yet to keep him our.  
Earth, Sea, Air, Fire contend his Fleet to rout,  
Let not these yet dismay thee, he will Rid  
O'er waring billows virtue is his gulled,  
Patience in Love declares a strength of mind  
Exactly peized, and neither way mclined.    

An Acrostic.  

Shall I still languish?— must I pine away,  
And me'r be blessed, ne'er see the happy day;  
Resolve, dear Saint, to let our Loves once join,  
And give us Transports near to those divine,  
Beal with your heart the wounds you make in mine.    

An Acrostic.  

Am I deceived fair Mistress, can't you love:  
Nothing? can nothing your affections move?  
Nature consider made you not for this,  
A Trial of fresh Charms create fresh Bliss.    

An Acrostic.  

Remember fair one, you was made for Man,  
And are Imperfect till with him you join:  
Consider that but half yourself you are,  
Half till with Man the other half you share:  
Allure him then with your bewitching eyes,  
Each glance of yours can Marble hearts surprlze;  
Look out whilst Beauty lasts, love and be wife.    

An Acrostic.  

Let it suffice your Virtues gain Applause,  
Envy no more prevails.— The mighty cause  
Of all your Sufferings Virtue still will shine;  
No Star's more bright, nothing is more divine:  
O'er casting Mists its lustre long can't shroud,  
Rays will dart forth, and pierce the thickest cloud,  
An Ark it is when winds and waves grow loud.    

An Acrostic.  

Each word you speak does seem a Sentence grave,  
Learning and Beauty your Protection crave;  
In either justly you perfection boast,  
Seasoned in youth, your years have nothing lost:  
Arts too of every kind upon you wait,  
Be kind as ye're accomplished good and great,  
Ease a sad Lover's pain, and give him peace;  
Those wounds that with a frown you did increase,  
Heal with your Smiles, and make my torments beast   
And thus may you sit an Acrostic to every Name it being no other than making a Verse upon some acquaint subject Matter or Fancy, answering to every Letter of the Name.  
Anagrams are acquaint Devices taken from the Letter of any Name that will bear them, 
As, Jacobus Stuart. 
 Justa Scrutabor.  
James Stuart. 
 A Just Master.  And upon this the famous Sylvester, in the beginning of Dubartus' Divine Week has Commented, etc. viz. 
For a Just Master have I laboured long,  
To a Just Master have I vowed my best;  
By a Just Master shall I take no wrong,  
With a Just Master would my life be blest.  
In a Just Master are all Virtues met,  
From a Just Master flows abundant Grace;  
But a Just Master is so hard to get,  
That a Just Master seems of Phoenix Race.  
Yet a Just Master have I found in fine,  
Of a Just Master, if you question this,  
Whom a Just Master I so Just define,  
My Liege James Stuart a Just Masters is:  
And a Just Master could my work deserve,  
Such a Just Master would I justly serve.   
This way in times of old was in great Request, but now for the most part rejected, though understood but by a sew; as it appeared by a Country Gentleman, who coming up to London, and falling into a Club of the Town-Wits, and Supper being almost ended, one of them who had been tampering upon his-mistress' Name, in this way to show his Ingenuity, urged the rest that they might close with a Dish of Anagrams, which the Gentleman not well understanding the Method of it, took it to be a Plate of Tarts that came last to the Table; and returning into the Country, he in a rage turned away his Cook, because in all the time he had been with him he had not furnished his Table with a Dish of Anagrams, or at least ways forgot to call 'em by their right Name.   

CURIOUS LETTERS and ANSWERS, WRITTEN In the most Elegant Style on sundry Occasions for Pleasure and Imitation.  

A Letter from a Mother to her Daughter To Perswade her from rash Marriage.  
Daughter,  
AS I have a peculiar Interest in you, so it is my chiefest care to study that you may be we● Provided for in Marriage; and since I hear you entertain many that solicit you that way, I thought ● became me though you are at present from unde● my wing or immediate Jurisdiction to give you● caution how you proceed in that great Affair, a business upon which depends your present and fut●● Felicity on this side Heaven, and though frequently too hastily undertaken; yet if it fortune unhappy nothing remains but an uneasy Life, and a fruitless repentance; nor is there a Cordial but Death, which proves at best but sour and unsavoury therefore le● a Mother's advice prevail with you not to give credit lightly to the Flatteries and Dissimulations of Men whose Vows and Protestations for the most part a● valued no more than common Air when once the● have obtained their ends but he wary and cautious in your Proceed; that so you may not only be accounted wise by those that you converse withal, but likewise that it may Redound to your own advantage considering that in your happiness, mine by sympathy consists, and that as a Mother whose affections cannot dissemble, I shall on all occasions be ready to bear a part with you according to my strength and ability, as well in Sufferings or Adversity, as in yonr Advancement and Prosperity: Therefore as you tender an indulgent Mother, and would avoid hastening her steps to the Grave be cauteous in this affair; and so with my Prayers to Heaven for your welfare, I remain, Your Tender and Loving Mother,  
A. B.   

The Daughters Answer to the foregoing Letter.  
Dear Mother,  
I Have received your Letter, and in all Duty and Obedience return you my humble and hearty Thanks, in a due acknowledgement of your Care and render Regard towards me, in being solicitous for my welfare in the particular of Marriage, nor shall my Caution therein be wanting to answer your Expectation; for I very well know the decitfulness of many Pretending Lovers, and have been both warned and armed by the Disasters and unfortunate Examples of too many of our Sex, who have rashly ventured upon a state they are altogether unaquainted with, and by that means failing of the competency they expected, & seeing too late their folly, they have become burdensome to then selves and their Relations; wherefore when I make a choice, and give away my heart, I shall move in that Affair with such caution, that I hope neither you nor myself shall have the least cause to repent or repine; for although I have many Pretenders; yet none of them shall ga● Possession till I am well ascertained I am upon su● Ground. Wherefore entreating you to surpress y●● Fears of this kind, and ever praying for your hea● and welfare, I assume to subscribe myself as ● Duty bound,  
Your most Dutiful and Obedient Daughter, R B.   

The young Lover to his Mistress, a Letter, etc.  
Dear Mistress,  
DId you know how much I am entangled in Lo● and what Power you have over me, I doubt● but you would look upon me with kinder Eye Great indeed has been my diligence to signify it● you, but it seems you were insensible of the Sig● and Love-Tokens I made you, which occasioned ● sending this Letter, to tell you more plainly that am desperately smitten ever since I first beheld you fair Eyes, and have often been about to reveal ● self by word of Mouth, but was often dashed by th● awe of yonr presence; nay, though I have enforce myself to do it, yet such is the fate of Lovers, ● words could find no passage, but stuck as it were ● the way: wherefore entreating you to look m● kindly on me when I come next to your Father House, that I may have thereby some Incourageme● to speak for myself, and tell you more of my Min● I remain,  
Dear Mistress, Your Affectionate Servant, T. C.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
YOu amaze me not a little to send me a Letter, in which you give me to understand you are in Love with me; for how can I otherwise than wonder considering your years, how you should pretend to a Matter of so great a moment; but attributing it to your youth and unexperience, I shall make the best construction of your meaning, yet withal conjure you that you trouble not yourself to write, nor me to read any more Letters of this kind; for if you do, instead of showing you more Countenance, I may chance to be angry, and reprove you of childishness, if not of folly: wherefore if you expect me to continue any Love towards you as being my Kinsman, let this be a warning to prevent your flattering yourself any further: and so I remain,  
Your loving Kinswoman, A. G.   

A Lady to her Inconstant Lover.  
Sir,  
HAd I thought you had been so much addicted to the Flatteries of your Sex, and that the falsehood and Inconstancy too common amongst men, could have found a Lodgement in your Breast, common Prudence would have forbid me to have entertained a Snake in my bosom, but your Vows and Protestations had too great an Influence over my Credulity, and made me easy to be undone by surrendering the strong hold of my Affections to a treacherous Pretender to Fidelity; but since it is past recall, and I for my good Nature am betrayed and left destitute of what I once prized so highly, what now remains but that I lay the blame upon myself, and repine at my weakness, taking care for the future, to stand upon m● guard and be vigilant to keep out any crafty surp●zer as much as in me lies surpressing my Affection towards you, thereby to lessen the Conquest that ●● given you Power to triumph over me, and be again myself: so for ever bidding you adve, I remand false man,  
Your irreconcilable and much Injured Mistress. A. P●   

A Passionate Letter from a Gentleman to ●● Mistress whom he had Offended.  
Madam,  
IF Tears and Sighs and the unfeigned Sorrows of ● perplexed and uneasy Mind can make any I● pression upon your good Nature to Pardon my ● fending you; If the low Submission and Prostration of a Slave cast at your feet can move pity in yo● tender Breast, look upon me with Eyes of Compassion, & suffer a Compassionate relenting to possess yo● Mind; let the former Kindness you was pleased ● express towards me plead on my behalf, that yo● would restore me from Banishment, That you would once more admit me to your presence, that there might obtain the favour of excusing, or at least of confessing and begging Pardon for the Crime of which ● stand charged before you, and as an expiation thew of, undergo any Punishment you shall doom mea● except that of being forbidden to approach the D●ling of my Repose, the Centre of all my Happiness and all my earthly Felicity. And so in hopes yo● will look kindly upon this my low Submission, I ●●● main, Dear Madam,  
Your Penitent and afflicted Servant, T. D.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
I Have received your Letter, wherein you pretend to be very sorry for your offence, the which though I resent very heinously, I must at the same time confess I should have some inclination to Pardon if I could prevail with myself to believe you are truly sorrowful for offending, and would make it a caution for the future how you suffer your tongue to run at random, in discovering or rather betraying the secret Affairs of your Mistress; however I will so far flatter myself into a belief that you are sensible of your unadvised rashness, that you will carry yourself more prudently hereafter; upon which condition I admit you to plead for yourself in Person, at what time I ●ewise let you know, I expect rather an acknowledgement, and a detestation of what has passed ●●an any pretended Excuse or Justification of your Innocence, and so I take my leave, Subscribing myself,  
Your much offended Friend, N. G.   

A Letter from a Father to his Son.  
Son,  
BY reason of your long Absence from me, I have undertaken to write to you, to tax you with a neglect of your Duty, in not aquainting me by Letter or otherwise with your Affairs, or giving me to understand whether you are in Health and Prosperity, or not; however, if I speedily hear from you I may accept of your Excuse, and in the mean time be sure so to behave yourself in all your Affairs and Undertake, that it may redound to mine and your own Credit, that I may not think the Learning another Advantages I have bestowed upon you, h●● been cast into barren Ground, or bestowed upon yo● invain; and above all be careful that you conve●● or keep Company with none unless your unavoidable occasions require it; but such as are honest a● virtuous, for Evil Company is the Ruin of You● and so in hopes speedily to see you, I remain,  
Your Loving Father, T. ●   

The Answer.  
Dear Father,  
AFter the humble Acknowledgement of my D●● and Obedience, I must with blushes own 〈◊〉 the hurry of Business wherein I have interessed ●●self, has made me remiss in not keeping the Pro●●● I made at my Departure to write frequently, the● by to certify you how Affairs go in these Parts. 〈◊〉 since you are pleased to Pardon what is passed upon th● Security of a strict observance, I shall not I hope ● wanting to merit in some measure so much goodness lenity and tender affection as you have always ●● pressed towards me, and as for the caution you 〈◊〉 me in relation to my Company, I have all along 〈◊〉 served it, my own discretion directing and inch●●● me so to do; but since you remind me of it, 〈◊〉 redouble that Caution, and am persuaded you 〈◊〉 hear no ill Character of me from the mouth of 〈◊〉 but if any by false Aspersions should attempt to 〈◊〉 your Ears, intra-ducing me I hope you will not 〈◊〉 hastily nor without good grounds give credit to 〈◊〉 Moths of men's Reputation, and so in Expectation see you, and lay myself in Duty at your fecteau soon as my great Affairs will permit; most honoured Father, I remain,  
Your most Dutiful and most Obliged Son, S. R.   

Letter to a Maid to persuade her to Marry.  
Dear Isabel,  
SInce I have entered into a married Estate, I have found so many unexpected Pleasures, and so much comfort in a Kind and Loving Husband, that for all the little Niceties and Fears that struggle to hinder virgins for that which naturally they so much covet and desire, nor whatever else can be reasonably named, I would not be otherwise than I am; I must confess at first the thoughts of giving myself up to the will of a Husband did not a little startle me considering I was altogether unskilled, in such an undertaking, nor had I been less possessed in my tender years, with the Descriptions of the many hazards and dangers that attended a Marriage Estate, and what rough and boisterous Creatures men are when they get innocent Virgins into their Power; but since I find all contrary: I conclude such frightful Representations were only scattered in my way to ●●event any early Progress I might be inclined to make in Love, you may indeed think it strange that ● write thus to you; but since I am possessed of so ●reat a share of felicity, I cannot yet think it so peract ●●ct as I would do, if the like were fallen to your ●ot; for as we have been all along Sympathizers in ●●ch others Joy and Grief, and dear Companions ●●ce our tender Infancy, what remains where true ●ffection dwells, but that I should wish you happy 〈◊〉 the same Estate, wherein I find myself so, nor need you, I am confident, adorned with so muc● Beauty and Virtue, want a thousand Hearts, out 〈◊〉 which number of your Adorers, out of which casti●● by the fabulous fear that hinders the Consummation of Love, you might choose one to shower on you 〈◊〉 the soft Endearments, all the kind Complacently and tender things that can possibly render a Woman happier that herself can reasonably conceive ● which is the entire wish, and earnest desire of he● who is,  
Your unseigned Friend and Servant, A. ●   

A Letter to a Widow.  
Dear Widow,  
I Must at once express myself both sorry and gla●● that now you are at Liberty to make a sece●● Choice; sorry that you have lost a good Husba●● and glad that it is in my power to recommend a●● there to your Arms who will no less tender and 〈◊〉 guard you, one that will think nothing too dear●● please & oblige you, you may indeed object that go●● men are hard to be found, to which I subjoin, a●● therefore have been very curious and cautious to 〈◊〉 you out one amongst those few that are so cautious indeed is to be used in so great an Affair, but 〈◊〉 much frequently mars a good Enterprise. Y●● know, Widow, what it is to be married; a●● therefore ought not to stand on little Niceties, wh●● the more weighty part is substantial; nor can I im●● give that you have so hard a thought of me as to 〈◊〉 lief I would be so treacherous as to recommend●● to any thing to your Disadvantage. However I 〈◊〉 undertaken that you shall admit of a Visit from 〈◊〉 Party who is so highly in my Esteem, and I hope will shortly be so in yours, and in Expectation you will not let me prove Barren in my Promise, in which you may conclude my Credit must of necessiity suffer. I Subscribe myself,  
Your Cordial and unfeigned Friend, P. C.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
I Have Perused the Letter you sent me not without Blushes, considering the Contents were somewhat surprising; I have indeed all along ranked you amongst the number of my Friends, and you might justly have taxed me with Ingratitude, had I done less; but that you should concern yourself in my Affairs of this kind, I never expected. I have indeed, as you say, lost a good Husband, whose Remembrance is too fresh in my Mind to admit any thoughts of a second; however I must return you my thanks for your good will and meaning towards me; and that I may be the more tender of your Credit, I will upon your account, by reason your Promise is past, admit of though against my Inclination, a Visit; and so I conclude, and am, Sir,  
Your unfeigned Friend, A. D.   

A Letter from a Wife to her Husband in the Country.  
Dear Husband,  
YOur tedious Absence does not a little afflict me, nor did I think the Love you so much profess towards me could have so long delayed me since 〈◊〉 well know that I take no joy in myself being thus divided from you who are my chiefest Comfort on Earth; what shall I say then, but that you are unkind; yet methinks I blush to lay such an Injury to your charge, and find at the same time something whisper me that you cannot be guilty, (considering the Obligations I have laid upon you) of such a Crime in Love; but to put me altogether out of doubt, and that I may have no cause to believe you purposely delay, Dear Love, gratify so far the Expectations and earnest wishes of your Kind and most Affectionate Wife as to let her speedily be blessed with having you in her Arms, there tenderly to chide you for taking yourself from her, and at the same time bereaving her of the much desired possession of all her Temporal felicity; for well you know, considering how dearly I tender your Company, that your Absence must be tedious to her that lives but to share a life with you; and so in hopes whatever business may happen or you may pretend, you will gratify me in this small request, thought to me of the greatest moment Imaginable, I am Dear Husband,  
Your dutiful Loving and Obedient Wife, S. B.   

The Answer.  
Kind Wise,  
I Have received your Letter, and am but too sensible that my Absence has been tedious to you; yet I must excuse it (though entire Love and Matrimonial tenderness and affection is frequently attended with Impatience to be delayed, and will not admit with a firm Crudulity of any Excuse) by my being forced to attend upon unexpected Business, which has in spite of all the earnest Desires, I have had of returning, and the Promises I made to my kind and mo●● obliging Wife delayed me; wherefore I must earnestly entreat you that you would be more tender that to impute it to any disregard or neglect I have of your Person, and though to remove all scruples of that kind; nay, be it to my Detriment or Loss in Affairs, I will hast to give you the Satisfaction you seem so earnestly to require, by being speedily with you, and so put it into your Power to chide me at leisure, and till that happy time which I as earnestly desire as any thing that can be thought of or expressed: I am Dear Wife,  
Your ever Loving and most Affectionate Husband, G. B.   

The Daughter's Letter complaining to her Mother for wand of a Husband.  
Dear Mother,  
YOu told me when I was sent abroad, it was in order to gain such Breeding and Carriage as might qualify me to enter upon a Married Estate, which made me the willinger to be absent from you so tedious a time; and though my Diligence has been great to improve myself to the utmost of my Abilities, and am, as I hope, of sufficient years and discretion to alter my Condition; yet I do not any ways perceive your Endeavours tend to the furtherance of that Affair; but that you seek to confine me to a tedious Virginity, which I am the rather induced to believe is the sum of your Intentions; for as much as since my Mistress, or rather Goaler received your last Letter, she has set more Spies upon my ways and actions, and has straitened me that Liberty which before was but little better than Bondage; therefore let me entreat you by all the Duty and Obedience I have hitherto been conformable in to your Commands, that you unriddle me this mystery: my years cannot be a sufficient objection, as being now altogether Sixteen, and having seen many a younger Bride in the fruition of those Joys that are Strangers to me, or if you have designed one to be my Husband, who it not yet at years of Discretion, and consequently not capable of meeting me with an equal flame, at least let me know it, that I may in compliance to your will, stay longer; yet that it may be in hopes, and that my Comfort may be I shall not undergo the Scandal of being reputed an overgrown Virgin, especially in an Age where the forwardness of our Sex makes it a wonder to pass the Teens. I could enlarge upon this Subject, but hindered by Blushes, I desist and press no further at this time, than that I may have your Answer, and so remain,  
Dear Mother, Your most Obedient and Dutiful Daughter, A. C.   

The Answer.  
Daughter,  
THe suprizing Letter I received, I could not, had I not been very well acquainted with the Hand, have conjectured to have come from you, I indeed remove you at the distance you now are because I perceived a more than ordinary forwardness in you to give ear to the allurements and smooth discourses of young men which becomes not the Modesty of our Sex; 〈◊〉 so doing, we give ourselves up to the Temptation which approaches too fast, and run upon those, snares we ought to shun, nor do I now less wonder at your Impatience, and more when you plead your Age, although at the same time you lie in the days wherein to the scandal of their Parents, in whose Power it frequently is to prevent it, Maids leap out of their Cradle into their Marriage Bed; which indiscretion is the cause of so many Misfortunes that befall them even in their Nonage, and one of the main Reasons we have such a Pigmy Generation, if placed in competition with former times, when it was held a Reproach to Marry under 20 years; nor must I have you repine if I think it convenient you continue as you are till that time; But if you will be a Rebel to your Obedience, and bid defiance to ancient laudable Customs, let the Misfortunes that happen be upon your own head: however I shall not be wanting to take such measures as may possibly prevent it. And so commanding you to trouble me with no more Stories of this Kind, I am whilst you continue in a state of Obedience and Duty,  
Your careful and Affectionate Mother, M. C.   

A Letter to a young Lady upon the second Sight.  
Dear Madam,  
AFter I have with much earnestness begged your Pardon for presuming to intrude this Letter into your fair hands, I must grow bold under the umbrage of their like Pardon, to let you know that your Idea has so largely possessed my heart, that I have ever since I first beheld you, been captivated by your bright Eyes, & made it my business to find out the Apartment of my Conqueress, and am so fortunate as now to know it; but when all ways were tried to gain access, and none found but such as perhaps might be resented as Rudeness in a Stranger, I enforced myself to commit these Lines to your  Construction, wherein I yet presume to tell you that I Love, and that you are the fair Creature that Employs my, Thoughts, and in hopes of whose Favour I only flatter myself with happiness: O frown not then, nor let a Cloud of Anger overcast those beams of Light that have darted into my Soul the charming lustre that sparkles in themselves, but look favourably upon this poor Address, and bless me with a Line or two, that I may know you have some Compassion on me, and that I may continue on this side the Land of Dispair; spair; for which condescension I shall make it the business of my life to serve you in all the Possibilities your Commands shall impose on me; and so in hope you will be gracious, I presume to subscribe myself,  
Madam, Your most Passionate and Obedient Servant, A. C.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
I Must own I have received a Letter, but the Person that sent it I know not, yet at the Importunity of the Bearer, and the request of the Writer, I have sent back these Lines to let you or whoever it may concern know, That those who make their Addresses to me in the way of Courtship are so Prudent to be well known to me before they trouble me with Letters; wherefore I think it no ways convenient to capitulate with you, till I am better informed of your worth, you may indeed be a Person very deserving; but since I am at present in the dark as to any knowledge or certainty thereof, you must Pardon me if I suspend my opinion or forbear to declare myself, till I am more sensible of it. And so Sir, leaving you to gather from this what shall seem most suitable, I conclude to Subscribe myself in civility,  
Your Friend and, A. B.   

Julia to Hemanus, a Letter.  
My Dear Hemanus,  
YOur tedious Absence has not a little afflicted my tender heart nor could I think when we parted that Business of the greatest moment could have made so long a Separation; but seeing it so falls out, you cannot reasonably blame me, that I am possessed with mortal fears lest some ill chance has befallen you, I might indeed could I find any place to doubt your Constancy, tax you with Ingratitude and unkindness. But not daring to harbour such a thought, I am constrained to let you know that I desire your Company beyond any thing I can express on this side Imortal felicity, and therefore make it my earnest request that you would delay no longer to hasten hither, where with open Arms and all the Endearments of a tender and affectionate Lover, your Julia waits to receive you, and must, till you bless her with your Presence, sit under the shade of Melancholy, pressed with anxious Cares, and remain,  
Your constant loving and yet disconsolate Wife, Julia.   

The Answer.  
My dearest Julia.  
I Have received your Letter, and am not a little grieved that I have taken myself from you so long a time, but the Seas and Winds as well as important Business have unhappily conspired to keep us separate, if we can rightly term it a Separation where the hearts are one, in the strictest Union and bonds of Love: However I shall take that care to break through all Obstructions that may offer to create delay, and with the speed that wings true Love hasten to your Arms, and strive to render you a double Joy in Recompense of my long Absence; till when, Dear Love be patiented, and let no sorrow afflict a heart in which I have so great a share; but let the consideration of my being on my was to renew your happiness banish sad Thoughts; and so commending you to the Protection of Heaven, I subscribe myself,  
Your constant and most Affectionate, Hemanus.   

A Letter to Commend a young Gentleman to his Mistress.  
Dear Madam,  
BEing so happy to be informed that Mr. P. is lately become a Servant of yours, and as I understand, altogether in earnest, having first begged your Pardon for my Presumptuous Intrusion, I thought 〈◊〉 convenient to Inform you, that if you are disposed to alter your Condition, I cannot think any Person fit for your Choice, considering the good Character he has in the World of being an honest frugal prudent and ingenious Gentleman, which to my Knowledge proceeds not from Flattery, but is altogether grounded upon his Merit, as for his Person, I shall not commend it, for as to that you are the competenrest Judge; and indeed being wise as all (that have been happy in your Conversation) must own you may tax me with Imprudence, for not leaving you to judge of the rest, which indeed I ought to have submitted to; but I hope the Love and Esteem I have indifferently for you both, will plead in my behalf, and gain me an Excuse: And so Madam● wishing you in every station all manner of felicity, I take my leavee, and am  
Your most humble and most obliged Servant, A. G.   

The Answer.  
Madam,  
I Have received your Letter, and am constrained in point of Generosity to return you my hearty thanks for the Care you take of my welfare, and especially in what most materially concerns my future Tranquillity; the Gentleman you mention, has indeed paid me some visits of late, and I have no reason to reproach him for his Civility; but considering Marriage is a great work, and ought not to be entered upon without much mature deliberation I cannot oblige myself rashly to enterprise it by giving a hasty consent, but must take time to consider on it as a weighty matter, and although my thoughts were not before averse to an Alteration of my Condition, I must confess the Character you have given on the part of my Lover, has not a little heightened my Esteem of him: But Modesty bidding me be silent in that matter, lest I should be censured as too forward in so great a concern, I rest, and am,  
Madam, Your most obliged Servant, R. C.   

A Country Letter from Robin to Joan.  
Honest Joan,  
I Can but think ever since you and I were together at the Wake, what a great mind I have had to Buss thee, I would indeed have come to thy Father's House and have cracked a Pot of Ale with thee had not I been a great deal busy in getting in the Hay and Gorn, and when that was over in Ploughing the Land; but I will spare so much time before I am a Twelvemonth older, as to come and see thee, and that thou mayst not think I forget thee, I have sent by this Bearer a Pair of Gloves, and a Top-knot, that thou mayst be Alamode, as they call it, and go fine as other Lasses; They cost me Ninepences, I could get them no cheaper: however I think not the Money ill bestowed since they are for thine own dear self. And Joan, if thou lovest me as I believe thou dost, and have reason to think it ever since thou tookest two Busses for one. Let me have a Line or two from thee to hear how thou dost, and tell the Clerk of the Parish I will Pay him for writing it, when I come to see thee. And so I bid thee hearty good buy, and am,  
Your trusty Sweetheart, Robin.   

The Answer.  
Kind Robin,  
THe Clerk not being at home, I got the Parson to set pen to Paper, and bid him tell you that I am a great deal glad to hear you are very well, as indeed I am at this present writing, and am as Impatient Bob to see thee, as thou canst wish or imagine; but have been taken up in spinning a pair of Shears above this Fortnight; yet should you come to see me, I'd make half a Holiday with you for all that. I have indeed received your Token, and that very kindly, as what could I do less? yet must rate and chide you a little for laying out your Money so simply; consider Bob, Ninepences is a great deal of Money, and might have been better bestowed, however I take all in good part, and wore the Gloves and Top● knot last Sunday for your sake. But can you think it ●● it would have made you have laughed to almost b●● pissing yourself to see how the folk gauped and st●●red at me to see how fine I was, and to speak wh●● I think I believe many a Lass envied me for being in the Court fashion, because they were not so themselves. And now Bob, Paper being scarce, I shall take my leave of thee without any longer occasion, and own myself to all the World if occasion were, That I am,  
In Love with no body but yourself; in witness whereof I have set my Mark, as not being able to write my Name. I   

A Letter from a Country Esquire to his London Mistress.  
Dear Mrs. Betty,  
WHat shall I say, or how shall I express myself to make thee know how much I love thee? As for thy Father, he knows it, for I told him all my Affections when he was last in the Country, and I hope he has told thee as much. I shown him too, my Sheep, Cows, Horses, and all my Domestic Cattle and Poultry, with my Warrens and parks of Deer, my Ground, and Stacks of Corn and Hay, and many other things too tedious to mention in an Epistle, and told him what I would Jointure thee in; for indeed thou art worth more than I have to give for thee: However if thou wilt love me, thou shalt have me into thee Bargain: Your Father seemed well enough to approve and like of all the concern, but told me withal, that he left you free to your Choice, and that he would compel you to nothing, but I must make way myself to your Affections, which I am now endeavouring to do, and I hope I shall not labour invain, for as soon as I know how you relish this, I will come and see you myself: And so no more, in hast I am,  
Your very Loving Servant, W. N.   

The Answer.  
Sir,  
I Have received your Letter, and am surprised t● find you should fall in Love with one you neve● see; what you have learned of me from my Father I know not, yet Love being grounded upon seeing and liking; I cannot but wonder you should choose you know not what; you know not but I may be old and deformed, illnatured and crooked conditioned for you must imagine Parents will be partial in setting off their Children, forbearing to expose their Infirmities leaving them the rather to be discovered by others; and indeed themselves will not many times see what is too apparent, which begat the Proverb, viz. Every Bird thinks her young the fairest wherefore I'd have you better advise & consider be forehand, if it be possible for men so to do, you settle your Affections upon you know not whom nor wh●● for really as you are a Stranger I am concerned 〈◊〉 you, and would not have you unsight and unseen pir●● upon a bad Bargain; which may give you cause to ●●●pent hereafter, you speak too of a Visit you inte● to pay me; but I think you may spare the labo●●● for I am confident you won't like me when you s●● me, and then I may give you cause to repine at the trouble and Expense I shall occasion you: My Father indeed told me all that passed between you and him, by which I understand you are in a Capacity to render a Woman happy; and I can now only wi●● perhaps I had known your mind sooner, for really not to trifle long with you nor hold you in suspen●● you have declared yourself too late, unless I h●● two hearts; but Nature allowing me no more tha● one, That one is already given away, past recall; an● so wishing you better success in your next Address, ● return you for your good opinion of me, my hearty thanks, and subscribe myself,  
Sir, Your most humble Servant to Oblige you in what I may, A. P.   

A Letter from a Mistress to tax her Lover with Inconstancy.  
Sir,  
Could I have thought you false after so many Protestations, I had not so easily believed and trusted you with my honour: Little did I think when you made your addresses in so humble a strain accompanying your amorous Discourse with such seemingly serious Protestations, that such falsehood attend your Sex; but since by sad Experience I have found that the Seas and Winds are not less stable, nor wand'ring Fires that delude belated Travellers more false; I am constrained to let you know how much I resent your Ingratitude, though through the strength of mind that always supports me, I could have refrained to let you see what you perhaps may glory to account a womanish weakness in me, and have remained as unconcerned as you; nay done it with that Ease I shook you from my heart; but this I do to prevent your heaping more guilt upon yourself by protesting perhaps hereafter your ignorance and innocence, though at the same time you know it to be otherwise; nor is it less in my power to be revenged, would I give myself up to the study of it; but I think it the more generous and nobler way not to suffer my Soul to sink so low, but rather to leave you to be punished by your conscious guilt, and so from this time rasing you out of my Memory, I date it the happy moment of my recovered freedom, and remain, false man henceforth entirely at my own dispose.  
M. Q.   

A Letter from one Friend to another upon his Deliverance from Trouble and Danger, etc.  
Dear C.  
I Am not a little overjoyed that you have escaped the Danger that lately threatened you, nor have I had a moment's sound repose till the happy News of your deliverance sounded in my Ears, so powerful is the sympathy where true Friendship dwells, nor is the News less welcome to the rest of your Friends and Relations in these Parts, and so much the more since we are assured as we never doubted what your Innocence deserved; you came off with that Credit, that your candid Reputation appeared more and more justifyable; nor let it at all deject or trouble you that you have been causelessly molested, seeing it is the common chance of Mankind to meet with Crosses and Vexations in this life, the World itself being fitly compared to a Sea that is restless, and Men to the Ships therein, which can never promise themselves always to be free from a Storm; Troubles come to the best of Men, and Crowns have frequently Thorns in 'em, and sit many times uneasy upon the Head of the Monarch. It's true some men are favoared with a long and uninterrupted Tranquillity; yet those find vexations more or less, even on this fide the Grave: Therefore think not your Lot cast in a harder Land than others, but rejoice that your Misfortunes are but light and trivial to what some thousands undergo; and so with my best wishes committing you to the Protection of the Almighty, I subscribe myself,  
Your constant Friend as well in Adversity as Prosperity, G. B.   

A Letter of Consolation upon the Death of a Husband.  
Dear Madam,  
I Having the honour to be ranked amongst the number of your Friends, have taken the boldness upon me to send this Letter of Condolence, to let you know how much I am a sharer in your loss and sufferings, That you have lost a kind and indulgent Husband, I, and all Mankind that knew him must readily own; nor am I though in somewhat a more distant degree, a less sufferer, in the loss of a faithful, kind and obliging Friend; yet we must both consider that it is the certain Lot of all Mankind sooner or later to leave the troublesome Stage of this World, though whilst the Body sets in the Grave and slumbers in the gloomy dust, the better part, the immortal Soul is freed from the Prison out of which it long has laboured to get and reaches its proper mansion, rises to the Region where Sorrow and Trouble are Strangers, and could it be know that we mourn for such a consideration, such a blessed change, what could it do less than think we envied its happiness. It must be confessed that a long continued Society where hearts are joined in strictest Bonds of Amity, must needs be unpleasing in the Separation, and through humane frailty and natural affections, we are loath to part with what we love; yet seeing there is an invincible necessity, we ought to sustain such Losses with Patience and Moderation preparing to follow what we cannot keep. These Considerations, Dear Madam, aught to sway with you, and dry your Eyes that flow too much for what is past recall, and so in hopes you will moderate your Grief and be thereby more Tender of your Health, as I hitherto have, I shall ever continue to be,  
Your faithful Friend and Servant, J. B.   

A Letter from a Virgin under Restraint to her Lover, etc.  
Sir,  
I Suppose you are not Ignorant that (since our Loves were discovered, and our Secrets betrayed by the false Confident you trusted with our Affairs) I have been under restraint & narrowly watched by the stri●● order of my Parents; however lest you should have no knowledge of it, and suppose I purposely neglect to meet you in the usual retirement I have not without some difficulty procured this Letter to be committed to your hands, making it an Ambassador of m● Constancy and good Affections, not doubting bu● that it will find you in that Peace and Tranquillity that I esteem equal with my own, If not Superior, and had rather suffer than be the occasion of disturbing your quiet— However, as I conceive there is a more than ordinary cause. In brief, am daily pressed, not only by my Parents, but by a new Lover to withdraw my Affections from you, and place them elsewhere; though you need not fear but I am armed against all Persuasions of that kind; nay, even against the most rigorous threats, yet I would not have you so secure, but that you may at least imagine I may be compelled to do that against my will, which you may assure yourself I will no● do with it; and so contenting myself in some measure to have given you this timely notice, and submitting the rest to your discretion, I remain,  
Your Distressed yet Constant Elira.   

The Answer.  
Fairest of Creatures,  
I Have received your Letter, the Reading of which has darted an Air of Sadness through my Soul, and so sensibly afflicted me, that I altogether account myself unhappy who am the Cause of your Sufferings, and could willingly pay my life as a ransom for your Liberty, if no other means might be found to procure it; but since I hope there are many ways to effect it, I will not at this time deprive you of the Joys you may justly expect thereby, nor gratify my Enemy or pretended Rival, in a thing perhaps he so ●●ch wishes for, That he may with less difficulty ●ake his Advances to storm your heart, which success, if it could possibly so fall out, would even di●●●b me in my Grave; but confiding in your entire ●nd unalterable Affections, such fears vanish like a ●●rning mist, and know my Studies are wholly taken up about your deliverance, which I will not to tedious in compassing: And so I remain,  
Your much afflicted Servant, G. B.   

A Letter from a Brother to a Sister.  
Dear Sister,  
● Can but Rejoice that time and opportunity have ● befriended me thus seasonably to write unto you; ●●●g indeed have I desired to make myself so hap●●y, but it unhappily fell out that my Business or ●●●ant of opportunity to send my Letter obstructed 〈◊〉; however hoping this imperfect Messenger will 〈◊〉 you in good health, I conceive an inward Joy at your welfare, and with all the tenderness of a Brother, will not fail for the future to put up my Prayers for a continuance of it, and hope in a short time to pay you a Visit; in the meanwhile, since so fair an opportunity frequently offers of writing to you, I shall not be negligent therein; but i● that respect and regard as in all others, contin●● to be,  
Your ever loving Brother, C. D.   

The Answer.  
Kind Brother,  
I Have received your Letter, and return you 〈◊〉 hearty thanks for your vouchsafeing to take su●● Care of me, and shall not in a Sisterly affection 〈◊〉 any ways behindhand in making a due return a●● Acknowledgement; nor can I thus constrained 〈◊〉 your Generosity do less, though my tender thought considering our Alliance in Blood or Proxsangui● might have otherways moved me to it, yet yo● tedious Absence has not a little sensibly afflicted me and therefore I could wish that no Business had th● power or efficacy thus to divide us, though I blush ● to think any over fondness should arise in me th● might in the least prejudice or be a hindrance ● you in your Affairs: And so in Expectation you w● give me the happiness of seeing you with all convenient speed, I remain,  
Your ever loving Sister, A. D.   

A Letter of Consolation and Advice from a Friend, to one that is in Love.  
SIR,  
I Have of late perceived you to give yourself up to Melancholy, and shun, as much as in you lies, the company you formerly so much delighted in, which has not made me, as a friend that highly tenders your felicity, a little inquisitive into the cause; and therein I have been so successful as to satisfy myself, the cause proceeds from a disappointment in Love, a thing I the least suspected, as not imagining that a person of your firmness and strength of mind could at all be shaken on so frivolous an occasion: yet since it so happens, that you are not proof against the Charms of a beauteous face, what remains but that you pursue the object you so much desire, and let her mow the conquest she has made. Muster up then your drooping spirits, and with a resolution great, like yourself, boldly tell her how much you love, and ●erpect to find the like returns. Consider, Woman was but made for Man, and that the most fair, the most proud, and most ambitious of the Sex, have been conquered by an adventurous and daring onset, whilst those that pine at a distance, and fear to tell their mind, or press on with bravery to storm, in a manner, the Breasts of their Mistresses. have, after a long obsequious attendance, large expense and languishment, seen her fall an easy Conquest to another, whilst they have been lookers on: or if she is not to be won by reason of a too austeer reservedness, without difficulty call Reason to man you, and be as indifferent as the is coy; and so you will, by degrees, either conquer your Passion, or by letting her see she has no power to give you trouble, lessen the esteem she has of herself, and that will give you a fairer opportunity to parley with her upon equal terms: and so, in hopes this advice may be something serviceable to you, in relation to what it mentions, I continue to be,  
Sir, Your most faithful Friend, T. B.   

The Answer.  
SIR,  
I Received your Letter, and find myself in friendship and generosity constrained to return you my grateful acknowledgement and unfeigned thanks for your advice and goodwill towards me; but must at the same time express myself sorry that you should give yourself so much trouble as to inquire into the affair, it being the tenderest business of my life, an● the very centre of my happiness or misery, according as I succeed or fail in my expectations; for she who● I adore, and takes up all my heart, unless a reserv● in friendship for you. is adorned with no commo● Beauty, nor replenished with a vulgar Virtue, bu● shines for both, in the sphere of her Sex, like the fir● moving Star, and by her Majestic presence command an Awful distance. those that are not in Love, 〈◊〉 is true, may easily prescribe Rules to those that are as every body will be giving directions to the sick but those that are in Love, like me, and feel a flam● like mine, must needs confess that it comes near t● Impotency; for when we presume most upon o● strength, and boldly resolve to unburthen our labouring thoughts to move compassion in the Saint 〈◊〉 adore; all on a sudden our Tongues begin to falter a trembling seizes every Nerve, and words forge● their way; instead of which, sighs and abrupt stammoring take place; blushes and eager gazes still succeed or accompany them: However, encouraged by you, whose Counsels never failed me at my greatest need; the fair one shall know for whom I languish, though thunderstruck by her frowns, I fall before her anger, and am lost for ever. And so, dear Sir, with all imaginable returns of Thanks, and the long Endearments, of our Mutual friendship, I take the boldness to subscribe myself,  
Sir, Your most affectionate Friend and Servant, A. C.   

A Letter from a young Lover to his Mistress.  
Dear Madam,  
PArdon my boldness that, unknown to you, I presume to send this Letter as a Messenger to tell you I am your Captive, and that I only wait the favourable opportunity to lay myself at your feet, and pay those profound Respects due to your Bounty and Virtue; till which happy time, if Heaven vouchsafe ●● a great blessing, I must languish between hope of your goodness and compassion towards me, and despair of being accepted into the number of those you vouchsafe to cast your smiles upon: but if you are so merciful as you are fair, and esteemed Virtuous, I may promise myself that you will not be so unkind as altogether to deny me access to your Presence, but at least suffer me, if fate or any hard fortune has ordained me miserable, to receive my doom in person from your fair lips, which of the two extremes may prove the milder: Therefore, fairest of creatures, in expectation of knowing your pleasure, I flatter myself with the happiness to subscribe, that I am,  
Madam, Your most affectionate and most obedient Servant, P. C.   

The Answer.  
SIR,  
YOur Letter did not a little surprise me, especially when I considered you are altogether a stranger to me, or my conversation; nor can you reasonably expect that I should upon second thoughts esteem of it as any other than the effect of a complimental humour, for it is much that you should be so passionately affected as you express yourself to wards a Maid, to whom you are so much a stranger; or at least I must afflrm myself so to you, as not having ever seen you to my knowledge: however, I am not so reserved, but I thought fit to return you these Lines; and further to let you know, that when I am better informed as to your Person and Merits, I shall better and more at leisure consider what to determine as to your requiring to pay me a visit, which I am not so curious in refusing, as far as the bounds of Modesty will admit, to any Gentleman, whose mind is virtuous, and his intentions honest: and till I better understand your Worth, I must beg your pardon, and only, take leave to subscribe myself  
A friend to Virtuous Inclinations, A. G   

A Passionate Letter to Reproach a Scornful Mistress.  
Madam,  
WHat more can be expected from the most obsequious Slave than I have performed; how have I marked your Eyes, and taken the least motion for a command to do you service; how have I neglected my own affairs, and with all the diligence expressible, laboured to let you see by my service how much I was yours, and how truly I loved you: but what is my reward; nothing but scorn and disdain, when others reap the harvest of your smiles, and are highly caressed: O the ingratitude of Woman! into what a Monster can it form itself, had it been once sounded with an Angel-Trumpet in my Ears, that the seeming virtuous, fair, charming Bellamira could have been false and inconstant as the Winds to the Man she promised so fair, and at so light a rate, broke all her vows and promises of an unalterable fidelity: I durst not believe it; but now too plain I find that they were uses; yet, false one, I will not curse nor repine, but bear my sufferings with patience; and though the grief sits heavy on my soul', yet with a manly courage I'll suppress my woe; and having once shook off these chains, be free for ever from the fatal mischief that attends on Love, and befalls,  
Fair One, still my own and C. D.   

The Answer.  
SIR,  
I Cannot but wonder you should be so much concerned to be rejected, seeing the encouragements I gave you were never so large as to ground any hope of succeeding upon: And as for your officiousness, it was in your own choice whether you would have persevered in such diligence or not; and although I am constrained to confess your services merited my thanks, which I often rendered you; and I, though it had been sufficient, yet you aiming higher, no marvel if you was rejected. Women, Sir, in these days, are improved in craftiness, and wear their Lovers like their Garments, putting one on to day, and another to morrow, and would not willingly wear out any, but when they are pressed to declare themselves; than it is time to pull off the Vizor to those they cannot affect, and let them discover how vain their hopes have been: and this, Sir, is your misfortune, if it be worth your terming it so; however, I shall not be wanting to continue such an esteem for you as you have merited, but would by any means advise you to withdraw your affections, if you have placed any upon me beyond the bounds of friendship and civil conversation: and so I take leave to remain  
Your Friend and Servant, A. C.    

Directions or Superscriptions of Letters to Persons of sundry Qualities, etc. Internal and External.  

1. External or outward Superscriptions.  
TO The King's most Excellent Majesty, or  
To the Sacred Majesty of James the Second, etc.  
To the Queen's most Excellent Majesty.  
To his Royal Highness the Prince of D.  
To her Royal Highness the Princess of D.  
To his Grace the Lord Archbishop of Cant.  
To his Grace the Lord A. B. of York, or  
To the most Reverend Father in God, etc. And to all other Bishops, viz. To the Right Reverend Father in God H. Lord-Bishop of L.  
To his Grace the Duke of S. or, To the Highborn Prince A. B. Duke of S.  
To the Right Honourable the Marquis of W.  
To the Right Honourable the Earl of C.  
To the Right Honourable the Lord Viscount F.  
To the Right Honourable the Lord P. Baron of D.  
To the Honourable Lord C. that is, the Son of a Noble Man, for they are always styled Honourable, though but esquires, etc.  
To his Excellence A. B. Ambassador from the High and Mighty Prince L. etc. and so to any Ambassador.  
To his Excellency L. E. of F. Captain-General of his Majesty's Forces, etc. And so to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.  
To all Privy Counsellors, the Lord Chancellor, the L, Chamberlain, L. Steward of his Majesty's Household, Secretary of State, Lord Privy Seal, etc. you must direct your Letter, viz. To the Right Honourable, etc. and after that mention their Office and Dignity, as the rest.  
To the Right Worshipful T. B. Knight and Baronet.  
To Sir B. B. Knight, These humbly present.  
These for L. C. Esq or the Worshipful L. C. Esq  
To the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor of the City of London: and so to the Lord Mayor or the City of York, or only to the Honourable the Lord Mayor of York, etc. And all those that have passed the Chair as Lord Mayors of London, are ever styled Honourable.  
To the Worshipful Alderman A. C.  
To the Worshipful M. C. Sheriff of London, etc.  
To the Reverend Judge A. B. or, To the Reverend A. B. one of his Majesty's Justices, etc.  
To M. C. Sergeant at Law.  
To E. G. Counsellor at Law.  
To any of the Inferior Clergy direct, viz. To the Reverend T. C. D. D. or as the degree is, naming the Preferment and Dignity.  
All Mayors of Burg-Towns, or Masters of Corporations or Companies by the King's charter are ever after styled Esquires.  
To all private Gentlemen, viz. These for Mr. T. C. To all Gentlewomen, etc. To Madam A. C. To Mrs. B. D. But if she be the Wife of a Duke, Marquess, Earl, Viscount Baron, Baronet, Knight, etc. Then you must give the Title as Duchess, Marchioness, Countess, Viscountess, Baroness, Lady, etc.   

Internal Superscriptions.  
These are those that are written on the top of the Letter or superscription, etc. Viz.  
To the King, Sir, Dread Sir, or, May it please Your Majesty, or Sacred Sir, or Dread Sovereign.  
To the Queen, Madam, or, May it please your Majesty.  
To the Prince, royal Sir, or, May it please your Royal Highness.  
To the Princess, Madam, or, May it please your Royal Highness.  
To a Duke, My Lord, or, May it please your Grace.  
To a Duchess, Madam, or, May it please your Grace.  
To a Marquis, My Lord, May it please your Lordship.  
To a Marchioness, Madam, May it please your Ladyship.  
To an Earl, My Lord, or, May it please your Honour.  
To his Lady, Madam, or, May it please your Honour. And the like to a Viscount, Viscountess, Baronet, Baroness, etc. only distinguishing the Sex.  
To a Baronet, May it please the Right Worshipful.  
To his Lady, Madam, or, May it please your Ladyship.  
To a Knight, Sir, or, May it please your Worship.  
To any Gentleman, Sir, or, Much Honoured: and to any Gentlewoman, etc. indifferently, Madam, or Mistress, etc.    

Complimental Expressions, or Acquaint and Modish Deliverances of Sentence, or short Speeches, referring to Men of sundry Qualities, etc.  
To the King. MAy it please your most excellent Majesty, so far in your Princely Goodness to condescend, as to accept of the humble acknowledgement, the most devoted of your Subjects and Servants with all humility tenders the King, etc.  
Great Sir, or Sacred Sir, May it please you to look down upon your loyal, obedient, and ever-devoted Subject and Servant, and cast a kindly beam on him that lives but to do you service, etc.  
To a Duke. Most Honourable Lord, May it please your Grace to vouchsafe your acceptance of this present from him that lives by your Bounties, and must acknowledge himself and fortunes ever at your command.  
May it please the Highborn Prince, and my ever-honoured Patron, his Grace the D. of, etc. to accept this humble acknowledgement from his slave, etc.  
Most honourable Sir, I can scarce express the joy I conceived, that your sickness or affliction is vanished like a dream, an suffers me to find you in your wont tranquillity and peace, etc.  
To a Marquis. Most honourable, and my very good Lord, it has not a little exalted the joy I conceive at your Presence, since you have been pleased to own my services, and think me worthy of your notice.  
To an Earl. Right Honourable, and my most benign Lord, the humblest of your Servants lays himself, in conceit, at your feet, and acknowledges your bounty.  
May it please your Honour to consider how much my daily endeavours are, and how I struggle with all difficulties that oppose to render myself in some manner acceptable to your Lordship.  
To a Viscount. My honourable Lord, what remains, considering the bounties and favours you have heaped upon me, but that I make it the business of my life, in some measure, to make me a requital.  
To a Baron. May Lord, May I presume to lay myself at your feet whilst I can have time and utterance to express myself how much I am indebted to your bounty, which in all places I must acknowledge.  
To a Baronet. Right Worshipful Sir, the Obligations you have laid upon me are such, that I blush to think that it is not in my power to make any suitable return.  
to a Knight. Sir, May it please your Worship to accept this first acknowledgement of my gratitude, though I must confess it unworthy of your notice; yet knowing your goodness, I grounded my presumption thereon.  

Expressions that may be indifferentiy applied to any Man.  
Sir, I am the humblest of your Servants, and nothing joys me more than that my Ears are dally filled with the pleasing sound of your noble Actions and glorious Achievements.  
Sir, Your favour has revived me; and what shall I do, or how shall I express myself that some grateful acknowledgement may appear, or that I may be anyways accounted worthy to be named amongst the number of your friends.  
Sir, I must own myself the happiest of Mankind, since I am truly satisfied you have pardoned my rudeness, committed more through inconsiderateness than any affront or disloyalty to friendship.  
Sir, I shall ever esteem your happiness as my own, nor shall I share a joy willingly but with yourself.  
Sir, I own myself indebted to you in so high a nature, and my Abilities so small to bring me off, that I must confess myself at a loss, how I shall in any measure make you a suitable return; yet my will is good, and my person and service shall ever be at your devotion.  
Sir, Did you know how earnestly I strive to pay an acknowledgement due to your Virtues, and how little I am able to perform, you would, past doubt, pity my fruitless labours.  
Sir, when I seek for a Theme to enlarge upon, your Name is sufficient at once to supply and charm me, the sound of it being enough to complete my largest intention, and to inspire me with rapture.  
Great indeed, Sir, have been the Obligations you have laid upon me, and great must be my thoughts if I durst presume to make a suitable return.  
The Man, Sir, that secures your friendship, must of necessity account himself rich, and repine no more at fortune.  
Sir, I am proud of your last visit, and can only say that my poor habitation was never so graced, nor made so happy till then; knowing your parts, I could do no less than choose you to manage my affairs, and find by grand experience that I have so well prospered in your hands, that I find myself at a loss to let you know how much I am yours.  
Sir, I have heard of your worth by fame, but find she has been to partial in not magnifying your deserts as truly they deserve.  
Dear friend, Command me to do you service, that you may be a witness with what willingness and zeal I fly to serve you.  
Dear friend, how much am I honoured by being seen in your company, and improved by your conversation.  
I am, dear friend, the grateful acknowledger of your bounty; and should I forget it, I might be justly termed a monster in ingratitude.  
Sir, I have met you so seasonably, that I must bless the opportunity which affords me this favour, and own that it has made me happy beyond my expectation.  
Sir, I must almost with admiration, but especially with repeated thanks to Heaven and you, own I have found in you a true and real friend in that by with true friendship can only be distinguished from flattery.  
Sir, you do me too much honour in giving yourself the trouble to grace my habitation.  
Dear Sir, I am the humblest and most obedient of your Servants.  
Sir, I am yours to be commanded, in what at all times you shall think convenient, to do you pleasure.  
Sir, I shall make it my study, and will be proud that I can find out any way to oblige you.  
Sir, As I am an honourer of true worth, I confess I can place my respects nowhere better than in continuing your Admirer.  
Sir, Since your have been pleased to give me the favour of a visit, let me return you my hearty thanks, and give you this further trouble, that you will bear my Service and Respects to your Lady.  
Sir, Command my life and fortunes, and I'll lay 'em with the greatest willingness at your feet.  
Sir, Let me embrace you with all the tender Endearments of a friend and tell you at what a rate I value your Love and Friendship.    

Complimental Expressions, etc. of the like nature to the Female Sex.  
To the Queen. MAy it please your royal Majesty, out of the abundance of your Lenity and Princely compassion, graciously from your station of highest Honour and Eminence, to cast your Eyes upon the lowliest of your Servants, though unworthy of so great a favour.  
May it please the Sacred Majesty of the Royal Consort, to accept the Services of one who has no Ambition beyond the desire of serving her with the utmost zeal and diligence, etc.  
To a Duchess. May it please your Grace to consider that I live but by your smiles; and when you frown, I must revert to what I was before I had a being.  
May it please the Highborn Princess, the Duchess of, etc. to consider the supplication of her Servant, and be piteous as she is good and fair.  
To a Countess. Most honourable Lady, what shall I say to express the gratitude I own you, or how shall I sufficiently acknowledge myself for the favours I have received at your hands.  
To a Viscountess. Madam, May it please your Honour, that without offence I may tender you my service, and that you would raise my Ambition by putting it in my power to make, though an imperfect return of the honour you have already done me.  
To a Baroness. Madam, Your Honour is so full of good nature, that you bankrupt and quite exhaust my stock even of suitable thanks, or grateful expressions and acknowledgements for and of so transcendent a liberality.  
To a Baronettess. Most honoured Lady, how shall I frame my Words, or manage my Tongue to render you in any case sensible, or let you know in what respect, or for what cause I am wholly devoted to your service.  
Madam, I am at a loss to express to any height that which may relish like an acknowledgement of your goodness.  
To a Lady, the Wife of a Knight. Madam, May it please your Ladyship to render me the satisfaction of laying your Commands upon me, that I may show you how willing at all times I am to wait upon you and do you service.  

To the Female Sex in General.  
DEar Madam, conquered by your fair Eyes, I come to lay me at your feet, and acknowledge my self your slave.  
Madam, my life depends upon your smiles; and if you frown, I must drop into the shades, and be no more.  
Best of Women, extend your wont compassion to your servant, who labours under a languishment beyond expression, and expects no cure but from her that gave the wound.  
Madam, if I may presume to express myself, I must tell you I love, and that yourself is the happy object I  upon.  
Fair Mistress, how shall I make my sufficient acknowledgements for the many favours I have received at your hands; all I can do is to make it the business of my life to study a requital.  
Madam, your Beauty, your Wit and singular Parts make a triple conquest over my affections.  
Lady, I must blush when I consider you have cause to tax me with ungentility in not performing my promise, but relying upon your goodness, I hope my excuse may prevail with you for once.  
Fairest of Creatures, pity the Man that loves you more than life, and would be proud to fall-your sacrifice did you command it.  
Madam, though you are severe, and give me despair, which renders life tedious and troublesome; yet know when I fall your Martyr, no harsh words shall fall from my lips, but at the last gasp, the twilight between life and death, I'll faintly breathe a blessing on you.  
Madam, consider I ash your Creature. and can subsist no longer than I am supported by your smiles.  
Madam, how long shall I languish and feed upon Chameleons far; if you resolve not to yield me Love for all my faithful services, be kind and tell me so, that I by death at least may ease me of this lingering torment.  
Madam, your Virtues exceed the Charms of Beauty, and are the lasting Jewels that adorn you.  
Madam, hard is the fate of Lovers where such Excellence appears to dash their great Resolves, and render them feeble and impotent by not being able to tell how much they love.  
Thou best of Women, how shall I sufficiently extol your goodness; how shall I lay myself low enough at your feet, to let you know how sensible I am of the obligations you have laid upon me.  
Great indeed, fair Lady, would be my happiness, if what you speak in jest could sink into my heart, that it might one day be in earnest.  
Madam, blame me not for my pretensions to Love, since the power of that God is so universal, that he rides Triumphant in every Region, and makes not only Man, but all Creatures feel his force.  
Save, dear Madam, your languishing Servant from a Grave into which he is dropping, and there must lie in dark oblivion, unless your redeeming smiles retrieve his fate.  
Ah, Madam, if loving too well be a crime; if any can be said to do so, when you are the bright object of his affections, pardon that offence, since Love is the highest Attribute of Heaven, and that by which we rise from lumpish Earth, as high as everlasting life.  
Great (Madam) it has been my Endeavour to serve you, and you repay me with frowns: Consider, dear Lady, I cannot live in storms, considering the weakness of the Bark, but must fall on the Rocks of black Despair, or shipwreck on the Quicksands of Disdain.  
Madam, your Eyes are my two polar Stars by which I steer to my haven of happiness.  
Madam, your favour makes me richer than the Treasures of the Indies.  
Charmed sweet Lady, by the fame of your Beauty I gave scope to my heart to love you before I beheld these bright Eyes; and now am more blessed to confirm it, considering the reports of fame that run high in others, have run low in you, and forgot or overlooked more than half your Merit. What shall I say, divinest of Creatures, to mollify your heart, that I may after so long a siege find a yielding there!  
Happy, Madam, is the Man upon whom you shall cast your favours, for he will be exalted above his fellows in the transcendency of joy.  
Much delighted Madam, with your pleasant and harmless conversation I am emboldened at this time to intrude into your company.  
Pleased, sweet Lady, by gazing upon you, I follow you like your shade, to feast my eyes on those Beauties my Ambition dare not pretend to enjoy.  
Happy, sweet Lady, is the Man that lives in the shadow of your favour, for there he may supinely repose, and be secured from the scorching of the Torrid Zone of your scorn under which others must swelter and languish.  
Madam, give Audience to your slave, since I only live to tell you how much I love you, and then expire.  
Madam, since you refuse to show me any mercy, I am resolved to try the Waves, who, doubtless, in their greatest fury will be kinder.  
Madam, you stand like an impregnable Tower against the assaults of all Mankind.  
Madam, the Roses and the Lilies in your fair Cheeks are always in contention, though they seem to live in peace, and hold an equal reign, since neither get the mastery.  
Madam, your golden hair appears like flowing Amber upon your Head, that Globe of Wisdom; and your Forehead, like a Rock of Alabaster, reflecting the Sunbeams to enlighten the pleasant Vails beneath; your Eyes resemble two Diamond Quarries, and your Lips and Teeth, the Coral and the Pearly spoil of the richer Ocean; and all the rest more charming than the Spring decked in her utmost Glories.  
O! tell me, fairest Mistress, if without offence I may dare to approach the presence of so divine a Creature; yet, methinks, where so much Beauty is engrossed, kindness and good-nature ought to be its handmaids.  
Madam, in you both Love and Honour wait; and Fortune is your slave.  
Madam, the Charms that adorn your lovely Face cannot be form even in the largest thought, much more be characterized, as they truly deserved, by tongues of Mortals.  
Madam, your Angellick beauties lay snares to entrap my soul, which would have ease from pains it does already feel.  
Madam, to what a boundless height of Ambition must the Man arise that dares to court your smiles.  
Fairest of your Sex, if no other favour can be yielded, honour me with a salute of your fair hand.  
Madam, I am at a point; if you refuse me, I have resolved to choose a nobler Fate than thus, like Niobe, to grieve till I become a Marble Statue.  
Heal the Wounds, sweet Lady, you have made, and be not cruel to let me live in pain, when it is in your power to ease me.  
Madam, to fall a sacrifice and expire, is the least part of my grief; but to be divorced by death from your fair self is intolerable.  
Madam, instruct me how I shall find out a way to requite the favours you have been pleased to cast upon me.  
Madam, I have endeavoured to the utmost of my power, in hopes my officiousness might have turned to some small account, whereby you might have reaped the benefit, but find I am at a loss.  
Assure yourself, fair Lady, that I will ever be constant; and when I am otherwise, may your Anger blast me.  
Most obliging Madam, what shall I say to render you sensible of the many obligations you have laid upon me!  
Madam, as a Captive I surrender myself; for although I have a long time been a Rebel in the Empire of mighty Love, yet conquered by your goodness, I at length am reclaimed, confessing that I own to you my Conversion.    

County Compliments, or Expressions, in Business and Courtship.  
HOnest Dick, I am very glad to see thee in good health, and I thank you finely for the kindness you did me the last week.  
Tom, I am not a little joyful to hear thou art Married; and may Jugg be fruitful, and bring thee every year a swinging Lad.  
Honest Ned thou art well met; and seeing we are met under a Signpost, let us in, Man, and over a Pot talk of old stories.  
Well, Sam, thou canst not think what a friend I have been of thine, to further thy Wooing with Madge— I'll promise thee I bussed her for thee; and bid her be kind to thee as she loved me.  
Will, I am hearty contented to see thee; and am glad to hear thy Cows and Sheep thrive so well in thy new Farm.  
Robin, thou over-joyest me to meet thee so luckily, for you see I am in my Holiday : And what dost thou think I am so plaguy fine for? why, I am going to fetch Cib, the Miller's Maid, we are to be Married, to day, and thou shalt be our Bride man.  
Roger, thou art so fine a Man, and a fellow of so much wit, that, adad, I admire thy company.  
Dear Harry, I present thee this token from Sicily thy Sweetheart; she says she will not be outdone by thee in kindness, and therefore has sent you a pair of Bandstrings in requital for the Gloves you gave her at the last Wake.  
Oliver, thou art a Man of Parts, and I must hug thee; I know thou canst write and read, and in good time mayst come to be a Great Man, even the Clerk of a Parish.  
Will, I see you are a hopeful Lad; for all the Lasses in the Parish do so gloat upon thee.  
Numph; how is it, Man, this Morning? What, up so soon after thy Wedding— Had I been in thy place, my Cows should have lost their Fodder for once and not use it.  
O, John! I see you are always hankering here about: Well, I'll be hanged if thou hast not a Sweetheart in some corner hereabouts.   

Country Expressions, or Compliments, to Women.  
DEar Margery, what shall I say to thy kindness! methinks I could buss thee for it till to morrow morning.  
Kind Jenny, it rejoices me to see how smug you are; thy neatness has often made my chaps water, Ill assure you.  
Sweet Mistress Prue, how long shall I pine, as they call it, and hang my head like a withered Tulip or Primrose, before thou'lt say, Honest Jack I am thine?  
Cib, thou art my choice, and the Old man, my Father, approves it; therefore prick up thy Ears, and be glad.  
Doli, thou art my Pigsneys; and I so much love thee, that methinks I could smuggle thee till I have lost thee.  
Kate, you little think what a grumbling you have caused in my Gizzard above this fortnight; for, in troth, I was never so out of humour in all my life; adad, I was not as since I gazed upon thy pretty grey Eyes at the last Wake.  
Well, Madge, I hear that thy Father and mine have made up the match over a Pot of Ale, and I am come to seal the bargain with a buss, and to let you know I'll fetch you upon my Rouen Horse on Sunday next, and we'll be Married together.  
Sweet Grace, I must own you are something handsome; but you are withal so cross and peevish, that a dog would not live with you.  
Well, Moll, I have got thy Mother's consent, and now am come to woe thee.  
Mistress Ursula, methinks ye are the plumpest brown Lass in all the Parish; and could I think you would fall in love with me; I'd tell you a piece of my mind.  
Jenny, Jenny— O you little prate-a-pace, thou haft a Tongue well hung; and if I thought you could not scold, avads I'd have you home to be my Wife, and so buss ye when we are treading the Pease-mow together, thou canst hardly dream on't.  
Fair Mistress Peggy, you have so thralled my heart, that I am compelled to follow you as the Cart does the Horses, wherever you go.   

Acquaint and Complimental Expressions, in English Distiches, etc. to be used by Lovers to their Mistresses, on sundry occasions.  

1.  
MAdam, I own your Charms, confess you fair,  
Yet bright as you destroying Angels are.   

2.  
like you the Moon does rule her World below,  
And as she pleases, makes it ebb and flow.   

3.  
Like you fair Venus looked, when the fierce Boar  
The tender side of her Adonis tore.   

4.  
Madam, your Eyes to me enchantments prove,  
And Honour I must sacrifice to Love.   

5.  
Forgive my crime, thou fairest of thy kind,  
And let true Penitence some mercy find.   

6.  
Madam, your slave thus prostrates at your feet,  
With floods of Tears begs he may favour meet.   

7.  
Madam, if I have sinned, forget my fault,  
Since I to do it by your Eyes was taught.   

8.  
Favour me, Heaven, in my enterprise,  
If I succeed not a kind Lover's eyes.   

9  
Furget me, Madam, if I prove untrue;  
Nay, blast me, Lightning, if I ever do.   

10.  
Ravished by your rare beauty, thus I bow;  
This, I conceive, you'll to your slave allow.   

11.  
O! pardon me thou fair, thou lovely Maid,  
That thus my Soul's sweet Charmer I invade.   

12.  
My Life and Fortunes, Madam, ever stand  
To be disposed of, as you shall command.   

13.  
If I offend, it is not with my will;  
Then spare the Man whose Soul conceives no ill   

14.  
If any crime thy Rudeness durst commit,  
I own my fault, punish as you think fit.   

15.  
Be patiented, Madam, since your Power you know,  
You may at leisure work my over throw.   

16.  
Madam, if I am guilty, punish me;  
Take your revenge, to die by you I'm free.   

17.  
What have I done, dear Saint, to make you frown;  
To make her sad, who all my Joys must crown.   

18.  
Fame, Honour, Glory, I to you resign,  
You are my Sun when you refuse to shine;  
shades cover me, and I in darkness pine.   

19  
Pleased with your smiles, I seek no further joy,  
Higher Ambition would my peace destroy.   

20.  
Madam, your Beauty has me Prisoner made;  
What force can stand, when Beauty does invade.   

21.  
Madam, I'm launched i'th' deep, you are the Sea;  
Your smiles and frowns the Calms and Tempests be.   

22.  
By your consent, how happy am I made;  
I who of Life but late a glimmering had,  
Am now, by all its faculties, obeyed.   

23.  
Come all you softer Beauties, come and see,  
How Love-united, kindly we agree,  
And share the fruits of blessed Eternity.   

24.  
Fair Maid, forget my crime, and never more  
I will offend, but love you, and adore.   

25.  
Madam, your Conquest is complete, I yield,  
And throwing down my Arms, will quit the field,  
For'gainst your pointed Beauty there's no shield.   

26.  
Pardon the Man your Eyes have made your slave,  
And give him, Madam, but the power to live.   

27.  
Once I believed, fair Creature, I was free,  
And could your Eyes secure from danger see:  
But fatal to my peace deceived was I,  
For from them swiftly Death-love Arrows fly.   

28.  
Since, Madam, I have ever constant proved,  
I hope I ought at least to be beloved,  
By her whose Breast a cruel thought ne'er moved.    

Mock-Complements, or Compliments Burlesque in Trope and Figure.  
SIR, that you are great, we know; nor does that moving Mountain of Flesh you carry about you demonstrate you otherwise.  
Sir, how shall I be able to admire your ingenuity seeing it is in all its effects invisible.  
Sir, I would lay myself at the feet of your under standing, if you would be pleased to direct me by what marks I should know it; but otherwise, fearing t● stumble upon your imbecility, instead of it I am lo● to hazard the committing an error in friendship and till I am informed, shall suspend my further Compliment.  
Sir, the valuable esteem I have for your Person makes me pity you, seeing your Body and your So are so unequally matched.  
Great Sir, I say my Littleness at your feet, 〈◊〉 there I rest.  
Sir, how happy would they be that are raised to the height of expectation by your large promises, did not you throw them from the Mountain of Hope, into the deep Valley of Despair, by the unkind hand of the Monster non-performance.  
Sir, you carry a treasure about you that seems to deride the Indies; for your Face, if it deceives us not, may be taken for a Rock of Rubies.  
I would, Sir, with joy be proud of your friendship, if I thought it would not be over-tedious.  
Sir, you are as gay as the Bird that expands his gaudy Plumes to the Sun for Mortals to gaze and wonder at; and wise as the long-billed Creature, that scorns out of a generous valiantness to shun the danger of the snare.  
'Tis impossible, Sir, but you should be the dread of Mankind, since you are so fearfully made, that a Scarecrow is but a puny to you, and Will-in-the-Wisp but an Idiot.  
Sir, you are pleasant, and would be taken for a moving Comedy, did you live amongst the Wits.  
Sir, great indeed have been my endeavours to screw myself into your acquaintance; since which time I may count myself happy in being made a Proficient in all the exaulted Nonsense imaginable.  
Good Sir spare your cringing, and consider it is cast away on him that understands it not.  
Sir, in your Anger you are as fierce, and altogether as dangerous, as the stoutest Lion in Smithfield-Pens.  
Pray Sir, may it please you, for the satisfaction of those that wish your Absence, to let me have the honour of conducting you home.  
Sir, I must confess you should be much admired for your ingenuity, breeding, and good parts, though the ungrateful World will allow no body to have the happiness of admiring you but yourself.   

Mock-Expressions, or Compliments Burlesque, to the Female Sex, etc.  
MAdam, your Beauties must needs be excellent, and like an Ignis faruis, lead Mankind astray since your Eyes have perpetual Twinkles, bright as Candles burnt within the Socket.  
Madam, your Virtues are like the Phoenix, very rare to be found.  
Kind Mistress, your favours are dispensed to all and so common, that no Man need fear in the least to participate of them.  
Madam, the severity of your Countenance is a scourge to transgression; for whosoever looks wishfully upon you in the very moment of his hot-boiling blood, will be antidoted against Lechery.  
Madam, the World must needs be melancholy when you are taken from it, seeing you are the Comedy of Mankind, and the Acting-Stage of Recreation.  
Madam, the Rosey-colour of Brickbat, mixed with the Amber-colour of Cowslips, adorn your lovely Face, and make it aimable to those that can contemplate and admire your Beauties.  
Madam, the Ornament of your Hair hangs dangling like the Roots of Cedars; and to catch Lovers, you expand it as the Spider does her Web, to entrap the Fiys, though not with that caution; for your Nets are so wide, that even the entangled Culleys creep through and escape.  
Madam, that you have been Man's meat, appears by the wanton twinkles of your Eyes, and the Ruins of a tolerable good Face; but alas, Time that enemy to Beauty, has dried you to a Cinder, and lest you only Desire, where you are not to be desired.  
Madam your inclinations to pursue Virtue, appear a many things; but you follow it with so slow a ●ace, that 'tis doubted by some whether you will ever ●●er-take it.  
Madam, we might, without doubt, have justly terned you fair, had not deformity been unmannerly to ●ake place of your beauty.  
Madam, your Gravity appears in every action, since ●ime has been hasty to furrow your Face with wrinkled ●onour, and reduced your Beauty to the complexion of a blasted Oak.  
Lady, the toss you have with your Head, and that ●ect with your Buttocks, denote you to be a Woman of fine breeding, and to have much conversation with French Dancing-masters, who will have all the wit to lie in Mimmick Postures, etc.  
Lady, your Teeth in their yellowness exceed the Amber, and may well be compared to Crysolites.  
Madam, the Scarlet-livory your Face wears denotes you to be kind to yourself in making glad your heart, and casting away care.  
Madam, so great are the obligations wherewith you ●ave loaded me, that I must lay down my burden, or I shall faint under them.  
Your understanding, sweet Lady, has so large a Country to travel in, that it can rarely be found.  
Madam, you have so far obliged me, that I must study the Art of Memory to retain the thoughts of your obligations, lest they slip out of my mind, whilst you forget not to tax me with ingratitude.  
Madam, ye're so lovely, sweet and charming, that ●●ow I could spend at least half an hour to tell you how much I love you, did not important business ●rudge me the loss of so much time.   

Posies, or Mottoes, to be used on sundry occasions.  

Madam, my Heart  
I'll constant be  
What e'er I have,  
Whm God has blest,  
Now we agree,  
To thee my Heat  
This for ever  
Until I die  
Fairest Creature  
In Constancy  
Let me not find  
Let us now haste  
Prepare with speed  
I will be true  
When false I am  
Be not unkind  
We'll happy live  
We'll live and love  
What here I give,  
No more I'll pine,  
What e'er you say,  
Love does invite,  
I live and move,  
Is your desert.  
Fair Maid to thee.  
Freely it crave.  
Let none molest.  
Let's Married be.  
I do impart.  
With the Giver.  
I'll constant be.  
I'm your debtor.  
I'll live and die.  
That ye're unkind.  
The Minutes past.  
To be my Bride.  
To Love and you.  
I'll bear the blame.  
Till cause you find.  
Let whose will grieve.  
Till Death remove.  
My Dear receive.  
Since thou art mine.  
I will obey.  
Let us unite.  
But by your Love.   
Read these, though divided, Cross-ways; As, Madam, my Heart Is your desert, etc.   

Mournful Epithets.  

For my sad grief,  
I live in pain,  
'Tis my sad Heart,  
Be pleased to give  
Alas I die,  
To be more kind,  
See cruel Fair,  
O! be more just,  
Death is more kind,  
My bleeding Heart  
O! let me go  
What have I done  
O! save from Death  
My pain beguile  
In Mercy save  
Long have I loved,  
O! let my Fate  
O! can my Dear  
One Boon I crave,  
If Love's denied,  
This very hour  
In pain I live,  
Unconstant Maid  
Behold I come,  
There's no relief.  
And love in vain.  
Does feel the smart.  
Me leave to live.  
If you deny.  
You was designed.  
How I despair.  
Or I am Dust.  
Than your hard Mind.  
Is full of smart.  
To shades below.  
To set so soon.  
My fleeting breath.  
With one kind smile.  
Me from my Grave.  
And constant proved.  
Have longer Date.  
Be still severe.  
Pity your slave.  
Death is my Bride.  
My Fate does lower.  
In vain I grieve.  
My life does fade.  
Kind Ghosts make room.   
Read these as the former.   

Short EPITAPHS.  

REader, This Marble claims, as Tribute due,  
To the dear Memory of sacred Dust;  
A Sigh at least, if not a Tear or two;  
The Good lies here, the Great, the Wise and Just.   

Epitaph 2.  
IN Honour's bed he died, whom here we lay.  
Whilst his freed Soul mounts to Eternal day;  
His Body Heaven will only here intrust,  
Yet will his Fame immortalize his Dust.   

Epitaph 3.  
WEep, weep no more, like those that vainly deem;  
'Tis loss to die when to die well is gain:  
The Glories of this World are but a Dream,  
And all its guilded Pleasures only pain.   

Epitaph 4.  
HIS Name shall live, his Works do speak his Fame,  
Rescued from Time, they shall his Worth proclaim.  
Fame shall his Voucher to all Ages be,  
Fame, that makes half the Orb of round Eternity,  
Shall hug him close, and never let him die.     

The most exact Collection of choice SONGS, upon sundry occasions, as they are Sung in Court, City and Country: To the newest & most delightful Tunes, etc.  

The Lover's Happiness: A new Song.  

(1.)  
ALL joy to Mortals, Joy and Mirth,  
Eternal Joys we sing;  
The God of Love descends to Earth,  
His Darts have lost their sting.  
The Youth shall now complain no more,  
On Sylva's needless scorn;  
But the shall love, if he adore,  
And melt when he does burn.   

(2.)  
The Nymph no longer shall be shy,  
But leave the Jilting Road;  
And Daphne now no more shall fly,  
The wounded panting God:  
But all shall be sereen and fair,  
No sad Complaints of Love  
Shall fill the gentle whispering Air,  
No Echoing sighs the Grove.   

(3.)  
Beneath the Shades young Strephon lies,  
Of all his Wish possessed,  
Gazing on Sylva's charming Eyes,  
Whose Soul is there confessed.  
All soft and sweet the Maid appears,  
With Looks that know no Art;  
And though she yields with trembling fears,  
She yields with all her heart.    

The Lovely Thief surprised: A Song.  

(1.)  
FAir and soft Corinda came,  
When night had mantled up the day;  
But oh! her Eyes they darted flame,  
That her approach did soon betray.  
She, like kind Cynthia, thought to steal  
From me an Amorous kiss, or twain;  
But she such beauty to conceal,  
The shades Darkness had implored in vain.   

(2.)  
For as she undiscovered thought,  
With easy steps to make retreat,  
The lovely Thief I kindly caught,  
And softly did the Charmer greet.  
Ah! why, said I, do you take pains  
Thus to defraud me of a kiss,  
When still it in your power remains,  
To be the Mistress of a greater bliss.   

(3.)  
She blushed and sighed at the surprise,  
Looked down, and knew not what to say;  
And strove to hid her pretty Eyes,  
And fain she would have gone away:  
But in my Arms the lovely Maid,  
Clad in her soft temptation, I  
Held fast till her, Loves flame, betrayed,  
The grand Existences of his joys to try.    

The Triumph: A Song.  

(1)  
LET Murmuring Lovers no longer repine,  
But their Hearts and their Voices advance;  
Let the Nymphs and the Swains in their kind Chorus join,  
And the Saters and Fauns in a Dance.  
Let Nature put on her beauty of May,  
And the Fields and the Meadows adorn,  
Let the Woods and the Mountains resound with the joy,  
And the Echoes the Triumph return.   

(2.)  
Since Aminta the fair one is mine, and no more,  
I now shall have cause to be sad;  
But in Joys we will Revel, and never give over,  
Till the World it shall think we are mad:  
Yet we care not who thinks, let it be what it will,  
Our Pleasures all thought shall exceed;  
A true Lover's pleasure, when envied, will swell,  
And the more 'tis disturbed will breed.    

The New Transport: A Song.  

WHen Amintas lay pressed, in the Arms he loved best,  
With his hands round her Neck, and his head on her Breast;  
He found the first Pleasures to stray,  
And his Soul in a Tempest was flying away.  
When Sylva saw this, with a sigh and a kiss,  
She cried, Oh, my Dear, am I robbed of my bliss?  
‛ I was unkind to your Love, and unfaithfully done,  
To leave you behind me, 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 Love, now let me go;  
Now die my Amintas, and I will die too.  
Thus intranc'd they did lie, till Amintas did try,  
To recover his breath, that again he might die.  
Thus often they died; Oh, the more they did so,  
The Nymph died more quick, and the Shepherd more slow.    

The Married Man's Comfort: A Song.  

TO Friend and to Foe,  
And to all that I know,  
That to Marriage Estate do prepare;  
Remember your days, in your several ways,  
Are trouble, with sorrow and care:  
For he that doth look,  
In the Married Man's book,  
And read but the Items all over,  
Shall find 'em to come,  
At length to a sum,  
Shall empty Purse, Pocket, and Coffer.  
In Pastimes of Love,  
When their Labour doth prove,  
And the Kinchin beginneth to kick,  
For this and for that,  
And I know not for what,  
The Woman must have or be sick.  
There's Item set down,  
For a loose-bodyed Gown,  
In her Longing you must not deceive her,  
For a Bodkin, a Ring,  
And the other fine thing,  
For a Cornet and Lace to be braver.  
Delivered, and well,  
Who is't cannot tell,  
That whilst the Child lies at the Nipple;  
There's Item for Wine,  
'Mongst Gossips so fine,  
And Sugar to sweeten their Tipple.  
There's Item I hope,  
For Starch and Soap;  
There's Item for Fire and Candle;  
For better for worse,  
There's Item for Nurse,  
The Baby to dress and to dandle.  
When swaddled in Lapet,  
There's Item for pap,  
And Item for Pot, Pan, and Ladle;  
A Coral with Bells,  
Which custom compels,  
And Item a Crown for a Cradle.  
With twenty odd knacks,  
Which the little one lacks,  
And thus doth thy pleasure betray thee;  
Yet this is the sport,  
In Country and Court,  
Then let not the Charges dismay thee.    

Beauty's Ruin: A Song.  

(1.)  
WHen Dorinda first I courted,  
She had Charms, and Beauty too;  
Conquering Pleasures when she sported,  
The Transport it was ever new:  
But wasteful time does now deceive her,  
Which her Glories did uphold;  
All her Arts can ne'er relieve her,  
Poor Dorinda is grown Old.   

(2.)  
The Airy Spirits which invited,  
Are retired, and move no more;  
And those Eyes are now benighted,  
Which were Diamonds heretofore.  
Want of Charms, abate her Merits,  
Yet I've Passion for her Name;  
Only kind and Amorous Spirits  
Kindle and maintain a flame.    

The Melancholy Lover: A Song.  

(1.)  
FArewell my hopes, welcome, welcome despair,  
Death now must free my weary Soul from care:  
Lost and forlorn, I sigh and mourn,  
Wrapped as it were in Clouds of fears,  
I'm ever drowning in salt Seas of Tears;  
Where Constancy once seemed to have a place,  
That Virtues stained to hers, and my disgrace.   

(2.)  
In some dark mournful Grave, or gloomy Cell,  
The small remainder of my life I'll dwell;  
Where every day, I'll pine away,  
Her Vows are broke, my Memory's forgot,  
'Tis time I stoop then to my cruel lot.  
Adieu the Pleasures of the World, adieu,  
Since she I loved I find, ah me, untrue.    

The Parley: A Song.  

(1.)  
HOw happy, Phillis, were we free,  
Might our Enjoyments prove;  
But you with former Jealousy,  
Are still tormenting Love.   

(2.)  
Let us, since Wit instructs us how,  
Raise pleasure to the top;  
If Rival bottle you allow,  
I'll suffer Rival fop.   

(3.)  
There's not a brisk insipped Fop  
That flutters in the Town,  
But with you wanton Eyes you mark  
The Coxcomb for your own.   

(4.)  
You never think it worth your care,  
How empty, nor how dull  
The Heads of your Adm●rers are,  
So that their Purse be full.   

(5.)  
All this you freely may confess,  
Yet we'll not disagree;  
For did you love your Pleasure less,  
You were not fit for me.   

(6)  
Whilst I my Passion to pursue,  
Whole nights am taking in;  
The lusty Juice of Grapes take you,  
You know well what I mean.    

The Victory, or Beauty's Conquest: A Song.  

(1.)  
TO this moment. a Rebel, I throw down my Arms.  
Great love at first sight of Dorinda's bright charms,  
Made proud and secure by such forces as these.  
You may now play the Tyrant as long as you please.   

(2.)  
When innocent Beauty and Wit do conspire,  
To betray, and engage, and inflame my desire.  
Why should I decline what I cannot avoid,  
And let pleasing hope by base fear be destroyed.   

(3.)  
Her Innocence cannot contrive to undo me;  
Her Beauty's inclined, or why should it pursue me.  
And Wit has to Pleasure been ever a friend;  
Then what room for despair, since delight is Love's end?   

(4.)  
There can be no danger in sweetness and youth,  
Where Love is secured by good-nature and truth.  
On her Beauty I'll gaze, and of Pleasure complain,  
Whilst every kind look adds a link to my Chain.   

(5.)  
'Tis more to maintain, than it was to surprise,  
But her Wit leads in triumph the slaves of her Eyes.  
I beheld with the loss of my freedom before,  
But hearing for ever, must serve and adore.   

(6.)  
Too bright is my Goddess, her Temple too weak;  
Retire, divine Image, I feel my heart break.  
Help, help, I dissolve in a Rapture of Charms,  
At the thought of those Joys I should find in her Arms.    

The Shepherd's Delight: A new Song.  

(1.)  
HOw happy we live, while our Flocks we do feed,  
And cheer up our hearts with the Music o'th' Reed.  
On the Mountains or Plains, in the Meads or the Grove,  
We court, and we sport, and each kisses his Love.  
Then Garlands of Flowers they make-for his Head,  
That pleases 'em best, and the Table is spread.  
On the Laps of the Nymphs, and with hourly good cheer,  
We there sit contented, devoid of all fear.   

(2.)  
Whilst others that think themselves splendid and great,  
Are tossed and turmoiled in the Matters of State:  
No life than a Shepherds more happy can be,  
Who lives in content, and from trouble is free;  
Who makes not his Soul a dull slave unto treasure,  
But sings in cool Shades, and by streams takes his pleasure.  
Before him the Lambs they do frisk, and do play,  
Till home he does drive 'em at closing of day.   

(3.)  
The Larks in the Morning salutes him with Songs,  
And the rest of the Choir does fly round him in throngs.  
When steeped in the Dew, that the Night does refine,  
He's more plump and jolly than Lads soaked in Wine.  
The Flowers of the Field, they contribute their sweet,  
Spread trees are his Canopy, shelter from heat;  
And purling soft Waters his Thirst do allay,  
And thus he lives merry as long as the day.    

The Night-Adventure: A new Song.  

(1.)  
WHen guilded with her gaudy fires,  
heavens Auzer Canopy appeared,  
Just when the Sun from us retires,  
And by't the Indian World is cheered.  
Walking abroad to scent the sweet,  
That do s from Earth's great Altar rise,  
In gentle breathe: I did meet,  
More bright than Stars/ two starry Eyes.   

(2)  
Plac d in a lower Heaven, yet shone  
More tempting fair than those above;  
Their influence more they made me own,  
As fixed in the sphere of Love.  
Amazed, and pleased at what I viewed,  
I steered long by their beaming Light;  
But, like false fires, they me delude,  
Vanish, and left me loft in night.   

(3)  
Since which I nightly view the train,  
That on their mystic Movements roll;  
Ariadne's Crown, and Charles' Wain,  
And both the Bears placed near the Pole.  
Bernice's hair, Andromache,  
The Virgin Spike, and all the rest,  
But cannot find where she should be,  
Who by her Influence rules my breast.    

The Fickle Lover: A Song.  

(1.)  
ALL my past life is mine no more,  
The flying hours are gone,  
Like Transitory Dreams given over,  
Whose Images are kept in store,  
By Memory alone.   

(2.)  
 is to come, is not;  
How can it then be mine?  
The present Moment's all my lot,  
And that as fast as it is got,  
Phillis is wholly thine.   

(3.)  
Then talk not of Inconstancy,  
False Hearts, and broken Vows;  
If I by Miracle can be,  
This livelong moment true to thee,  
'Tis all that Fate allows.    

The Goodfellow: A Song.  

Hung up Mars and his Wars,  
Give us drink;  
Well 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 and undoing.    

The Amorous Courtier: A new Song.  

WHy are my Eyes still flow—ing?  
Why does my Heart thus trembling move,  
When go—ing,  
To see the darling Saint I love?  
Ah! she's my Heavn, and in my Eye  
Love's Dei— tie:  
There is no Life what she can give,  
Nor any Death like taking my leave.   

(2.)  
Tell me no more of Glow— ry,  
To Court's Ambition I've resigned,  
But tell a long, long Sto— ry,  
Of Celia s shape, her face and mind:  
Speak too of Raptures, that would Life destroy,  
To en— joy.  
Had I a Diadem, Sceptre and Ball,  
For that dear Minute I'd part with 'em all.    

The Loyalist: A Song.  

(1.)  
HAppy, happy may he Reign,  
That do s now the Sceptre sway,  
Our Liberties still to maintain,  
And may his Subjects all obey.  
Let each one strive to merit most,  
In constant Loyalty and Love;  
And may Division be divorced,  
And we no more of it approve.   

(2.)  
That each secure beneath his Vine,  
With Peace and Plenty may be blest,  
And never cause have to repine,  
But there supinely take his rest.  
Calm as Summer's noon-tide Air,  
May all our thoughts and actions be  
Still free from foul distrust and fear,  
Hence forward live in unity.    

The Daughter's Request.  

OH, Mother! Roger with his Kisses  
Almost stops my breath, I vow;  
He almost gripes my hands to pieces,  
Yet he swears he loves me too:  
Tell me, Mother, Pray now do,  
Pray now, pray now, pray now do,  
What Roger means when he does so,  
For ne'er stir I long to know.   

(2.)  
He sets me on his Lap whole hours,  
With eager looks he me devours;  
Kisses me, and strokes my Breast,  
Feels my Thighs, and would the rest:  
Tell me, Mother, pray now do,  
Pray now, pray now, pray now do,  
What Roger means when be does so,  
For never stir I long to know.   

(3.)  
He gives me Cream and strawberries,  
And always gazes on my Eyes;  
Commends my handsome Leg and Foot,  
And sighs for something I have got:  
Tell me, Mother, pray now do,  
Pray now, pray now, pray now do,  
What Roger means when be does so,  
For ne'er stir I long to know.    

Celia Restored to her Empire, or The Wand'ring Shepherd's Return: A new Song.  

(1.)  
CElia, no more complain,  
The Shepherd shall be kind;  
You shall not sigh in vain,  
Nor grieve unto the Wind.  
Love, mighty Love, subdues  
Monarches, makes Empires yield;  
Conquers him that pursues,  
Gives the pursued the field.   

(2)  
Rise then, fair Celia, rise,  
See your Returned Swain;  
Who at your Mercy lies,  
And begs you'd ease his pain.  
A Rebel to your Charms  
He never more will be,  
But in your tender Arms,  
Ravished with joy, will lie.   

(3.)  
Take, take then pity now  
Upon your wandering slave,  
Who at your feet does bow,  
And low your pardon crave.  
Long he defiance holds  
Against all Nature's Laws,  
If his Heart ne'er new Moulds  
At such a charming Cause.    

The Conquest of Coyness: A Song.  

(1.)  
AS Cloris full of harmless thoughts,  
Beneath the Myrtle lay,  
Kind Love a youthful Shepherd brought,  
To pass the time away.   

(2.)  
She blushed to be encountered so,  
And chid the Amorous Swain;  
But as she Strove to rise and go,  
He pulled her down again.   

(3.)  
A sudden Passion seized her Heart,  
In spite of her disdain;  
She found a Pulse in every part,  
And Love in every vein.   

(4.)  
Ah Gods, said she, what Charms are these,  
That conquer and surprise;  
Ah, let me— for unless you please,  
I have no power to rise.   

(5.)  
She fainting spoke, and trembling lay,  
For fear she should comply;  
Her lovely Eyes her Heart betray,  
And give her Tongue the lie.   

(6.)  
Thus she whom Princes had denied,  
With all their pomp and train,  
Was in a luckey Minute tried,  
And yielded to a Swain.    

The Downright Courtier to his Coy Mistress: A Song.  

(1.)  
PRay, Madam, leave this peevish fashion,  
And ne'er desire to be high-prized;  
Love, it is a Princely Passion,  
And is angry when despised.  
Though men say ye're fair, 'tis true,  
We your Beauty yet bestow,  
For our Fancy makes it so.   

(2.)  
Then beaned proud 'cause we Adore you,  
We do't only for our pleasure;  
All those parts in which you glory,  
We by fancy weigh and measure.  
When for Goddesses you go,  
For Angels or for Queens, pray know,  
'tis our Fancies make you so.   

(3.)  
Suppose not then your Majesty,  
By Tyrannies best signified;  
And your Angellick Natures be,  
Distinguished only by your Pride.  
Tyrant's make Subjects Rebels grow,  
And Pride lost Angels down did throw,  
Beware your Pride don't serve you so.    

The Power and Force of Love: A Song.  

(1.)  
AS by a Grove I walking was,  
A mighty Cause  
Struck sadness to my Soul;  
Unhappy me I said, Alas,  
'Tis a hard case,  
That I meet this control.  
I that of late was free of Air,  
Must now despair,  
And captive live in Chains;  
Can Love, said I, so crafty be,  
Who cannot see,  
To fill the Mind with pains?   

(2.)  
Ah! he's a Tyrant, seeming weak,  
And yet to break  
His Chains we vainly strive;  
The Fetters that he does bequeath,  
Are strong as Deah,  
Men rarely them survive:  
For  the valiant, brave, and wise,  
By Woman's Eyes,  
Are ruined. and undone;  
No Armour is sufficient proof,  
Nor hard enough,  
Their kill Darts to shun.    

The Comparison: A Song.  

(1.)  
HOw blessed was the created state  
Of Man and Woman e'er they fell,  
Compared to our unhappy state,  
What need we fear another Hell.   

(2.)  
Naked beneath cool shades they lay,  
Enjoyment waited on desire;  
All active did their wills obey,  
Nor could a wish set pleasure higher.   

(3.)  
But we, poor slaves, to hope and fear,  
Are never of our Joys secure;  
They lessen still as they draw near,  
And none but dull delights endure.   

(4.)  
Then, Cloris, whilst I duly pay  
The noble Tribute of my Heart;  
Beaned you so vain to say,  
You love me for a frailer part.    

The Jovial Boys: A Song.  

(1.)  
COme fill us a Bumper to Bacchus,  
Let us be free in our doing;  
Let Sorrow and Grief ne'er overtake us,  
Damn the fond trouble of Wooing:  
Whilst our Glasses are crowned,  
And Liquors abound,  
we'll brave the fond Boy and his Arrows;  
In drinking there is a pleasure,  
〈◊〉 Love is a folly will 〈◊〉 us,  
Both wasting our 〈…〉 Treasure.   

(2.)  
Then round let it go 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
Since Women such puny toys are;  
●re charms in Wide that does sparkle,  
●han e'er in a Mistress Eyes were:  
Come then put 'em about,  
we'll see 'em all out,  
And when they are so, we'll recruit 'em;  
Though Women we once did adore,  
These Reasons they now shall confute 'em,  
We will be such Asses no more.    

The Indifferent Lover: A Song.  

(1.)  
WHilst on those lovely Eyes I gaze,  
To see a wretch pursuing,  
In Raptures of a blessed amaze,  
His pleasing happy Ruin.  
'Tis not for pity that I move,  
His Fate is too aspiring;  
Who heart-broke with a load of Love,  
Dies wishing and admiring.   

(2.)  
But if his Death you can forgo,  
Your slave from Death removing;  
Let me your Art of Charming know,  
Or learn you mine of loving:  
But whether life or death betid,  
In love 'tis equal measure;  
The victor lives with empty pride,  
The vanquished dyes with pleasure.    

The Bully: A Song.  

ROom, room, for a Blade of the Town,  
That takes delight in roaring;  
Who daily Rambles up and down,  
And at Night in the streets lies snoring.  
That for the Noble name of Spark,  
Dares his Companions rally;  
Commits a Murder in the dark,  
Then sneak into an Ally.  
To every Female that he meets,  
He swears he bears affection;  
Defies all Laws, Arrests, and Suits,  
By help of a Protection.  
Then he intending further wrongs,  
By some resenting Culley;  
Is decently whipped through the Lungs,  
And there's an end of Bulley.    

The Amorous Lover's Advice to his Mistress: A Song.  

(1.)  
LET Love, and let Beauty, each other embrace,  
'Tis scorn and disdain spoils the charms of a Face.  
That Breast which contains the blessed warmth of desire,  
Will rejoice at the sense of so pleasing a fire;  
Which to make Mortals happy, is sent from above;  
'Tis a sin to be nice, but a pleasure to love.   

(2.)  
How happy are those who by Nature enjoy  
The innocent sport, for which others seem coy;  
They'll receive mighty Love at the Eye with a smile,  
And sweetly permit him the Heart to beguile.  
O! then with a sigh, how they hug the soft Chain,  
And wish that it ne'er may forsake 'em again.    

The Lover's Excuse: A Song.  

(1.)  
THyrsis, unjustly you complain,  
And tax my tender Heart  
With want of pity for your pain,  
Or sense of your desert.   

(2.)  
By secret and mysterious springs,  
Alas, our Passions move;  
We Women are fantastic things,  
That like before we love.   

(3.)  
You may be handsome, and have wit,  
Be secret, and well-bred;  
The person loved must to us fit,  
He only can succeed.   

(4.)  
Some dye, yet never are believed;  
Others we trust too soon,  
Helping ourselves to be deceived,  
And proud to be undone.    

The Constant Lover's Complaint: A Song.  

(1.)  
I Cannot change as others do,  
Though you unjustly scorn;  
Since the poor Swain, that sighs for you,  
For you alone was born.  
No, Phillis, no, your Heart to move,  
A surer way I'll try;  
And to revenge my slighted Love,  
Will still love on, will still love on, and die.   

(2.)  
When killed with grief, Amintas lies,  
And you to mind shall call;  
The Sighs that now unpityed rise,  
The Tears that vainly fall.  
That welcome hour that ends his smart,  
Will then begin your pain;  
For such a faithful tender Heart  
Can never break in vain.    

The bouncing Bully: A new Song.  

(1.)  
WHen first I made love to my Cloris,  
Cannon Oaths I brought down,  
To batter the Town,  
And I filled her with Amorous stories.   

(2.)  
Billet Doux, like small shot, d'ye ply her,  
And sometimes a Song,  
Went whizzing along,  
But still I was never the nigher.   

(3.)  
At last she sent word by a Trumpet,  
If I liked that life,  
She would be my wife,  
But never be any Man's Strumpet.   

(4.)  
I told her Mars would not Marry,  
And swore by my scars,  
Single combats and wars,  
I'd sooner dig stones in a Quarry.    

Content is True Happiness: A Song.  

(1.)  
COme leave your care, and love your friend,  
Live freely, don't despair;  
Of getting Money there's no end,  
And keeping it breeds care.  
〈◊〉 you have Money at your need,  
〈◊〉 Good-fellows, and good Wine;  
〈◊〉 life whose joys on Wealth do seed,  
Is dull compared with thine.   

(2.)  
I can enjoy myself and friends,  
Without design or fear;  
Below their Envy or base ends,  
That Politicians are.  
I neither toil, nor care, nor grieve,  
To gather, keep, or lose;  
With freedom and content I live,  
And what's my own I use.   

(3.)  
Whilst Men blown up with strong desires,  
Of Riches or Renown;  
Though ne'er so high, would still be higher,  
So tumble headlong down.  
For Prince's smiles turn oft to frowns,  
And favours fade each hour;  
He that to day heaps Towns on towns,  
To morrow may be poor.   

(4.)  
All that we get, by all our store,  
'S Honour or Dominion;  
The one's but Trouble varnished over,  
the tother but Opinion.  
Fate rules the roast, Times always change,  
'Tis Fancy builds all things;  
How madly then our Minds do range,  
Since all we grasp hath wings.   

(5.)  
Those empty terms of Rich and Poor,  
Comparison hath framed;  
He hath not much, that covets more,  
Want is but Will nicknamed.  
If I can safely think, and live,  
And freely laugh and sing;  
My Wealth I'll not for Croesus' give,  
Nor change for any thing.    

The Downfall of Plaindealing: A Song.  

(1.)  
LOng time Plaindealing in the haughty Town,  
Wandering about, though in a threadbare Gown,  
At last unanimously was cried down.   

(2.)  
When almost starved, she to the Country fled,  
In hopes, though meanly, she should there be fed,  
And tumble nightly on a Peas-straw bed.   

(3.)  
But knavery knowing her intent, took post,  
And rumoured her approach through ev'ry coast,  
Vowing his ruin, that should be her Host.   

(4.)  
Frighted at this, each Rustic shut his door,  
Bid her begun, and trouble him no more,  
For he that entertained her must be poor.   

(5.)  
At this grief seized, her grief too great to tell,  
And weeping, sighing, fainting, down she fell,  
Whilst knavery, laughing, rung her Passing-bell.   

(6.)  
And though some simple people search in vain,  
In hopes, by this time, she's revived again,  
They have their labour only for their pain.    

The Hero: A new Song.  

(1.)  
THE Courts of fond Cupid I ever did scorn,  
Nor could Venus' softness invite me;  
The Charms and Perfections that beauties adorn,  
Ne'er yet had power to delight me.  
The sound oh the Trumpet, the rattling Drum,  
And the noise of the Cannon, where flaming,  
On spread wings of fire Death in triumph does come,  
In Thunder his Terror proclaiming.   

(2.)  
Where drawn Swords, like Comets, enlighten the Plain,  
And the music's the Groans of the dying;  
The Ramparts are only the heaps of the slain,  
And nothing ignoble but flying.  
To the field (my kind Mistress) like this I will hast,  
Where same, ho●our, glory, are waiting;  
Whilst love from my Arms with disdain I will cast,  
As not worthy a Soldiers debating.    

Mariana's Complaint: A new Song.  

(1.)  
COnsider, Maidens, that are young,  
And yet are blooming in your prime,  
Lest Man's soft charming Tongue  
Steal your weak Hearts by stealing Time.  
For whilst you think you moments spend,  
That harmlessly away do slide;  
Love does a strong contagion send,  
Which, senseless, through your Heart does glide.   

(2.)  
Whilst ev'ry part within conspires,  
To entertain the subtle foe;  
Which by degrees breeds strange desires,  
Till it your peace quite overthrow.  
And your dear freedom lay in chains,  
Make you a Captive to false man;  
Who when ye're settered, slights your pains,  
And grows more proud that ye're undone.   

(3.)  
Then fly, then fly when they draw near,  
Believe not what they smoothly say;  
For though they vow, protest and swear,  
Yet in that breath they'll you betray.  
'Tis at your Honour that they aim;  
And when they once have gained the prize,  
No more they burn, no more they flame,  
No more the false dissembler dies.   

(4.)  
But make ill-natured Jests, and leave  
The too fond Maid they worked upon,  
Gentle and easy to deceive,  
They count her when she is undone.  
Alas, by me example take,  
The dear-loved Man I did adore,  
My ruin'd honour does forsake,  
For getting all the Love he swore.    

The Maiden's Grief: A new Song.  

(1.)  
A Curse upon the faithless Maid,  
Who first her Sex's Liberty betrayed;  
Born free as Men to love and range,  
Till nobler Nature did to Custom change.  
Custom, that dull excuse of fools,  
Who think all Virtue to consist in Rules.   

(2.)  
From love our fetters never sprung,  
That smiling God all wanton gay and young:  
shows by his wings, he cannot be  
confined to restless slavery;  
●ut here and there at random roves,  
Nor fixed to glittering Courts or shady Groves.   

(3.)  
Then she that Constancy profess,  
Was but a well dissembler at the best;  
And that imaginary sway,  
She feigned to give in, seeming to obey,  
Was but the height of prudent Art,  
To deal with greater liberty her heart.    

The Torment of Disdain: A Song.  

(1.)  
WHen first these Eyes of mine saw my undoer,  
Oh! how my Soul was inflamed with desire!  
But now I hate the time that e'er I knew her,  
Seeing her Cruelty adds to my fire.  
The more I love, the more she disdains,  
And daily does add new Links to my Chains;  
Which makes me day and night to cry,  
Woe is me, woe is me, for love I die.   

(2.)  
I still address myself in humble manner,  
Thinking by that to gain some respect;  
But she most cruel she takes more upon her,  
And still returned it with scorn and neglect;  
Which plunged my soul into such deep despair,  
Too great, alas, for Mortal minds to bear;  
I'd rather soon to lose my breath,  
Then to continue still this living death.   

(3.)  
Farewell cruel she, this Curse I'll leave with thee;  
May'st thou love one, but ne'er beloved be;  
And when thou dotest on him, may he deceive then  
And be as cruel as thou waft to me.    

The Invitation to Love: A Song.  

(1.)  
Pretty Peggy, grant to me  
One sweet kiss to prove me;  
If I stick not close to thee,  
As the Woodbine to the tree,  
Mayest thou never love me.   

(2.)  
Passion is a simple thing,  
That will ne'er content ye;  
It will never pleasure bring,  
But will leave behind a sting,  
That will still torment ye.   

(3.)  
Love that brisk and airy is,  
Brings a Lady pleasure;  
But if dull, our blood will freeze,  
Which will make you by degrees,  
To repent at leisure.   

(4.)  
Heightened Love does still beget  
Torment to the Master;  
For Jealousy is such a cheat,  
No Physician e'er could yet  
Find for it a Plaster.   

(5.)  
Anger still does stir up Love,  
And increase the fancy;  
If't be moderate you'll prove,  
'tis the only sphere to move  
In for to advance you.    

To Flora: A Song.  

(1.)  
JOy to the Darling of loud Fame,  
Whose early Beauty's in their bloom;  
Nature's Riches do proclaim,  
And find in all our hearts a Room.   

(2.)  
If so in Infancy you wound,  
If such sharppointed Darts you wear;  
Your Beauty, when by years 'tis crowned,  
Must needs the wonder of the World appear.   

(3.)  
See how the Stars shine in the Skies,  
Seeding the Firmament with Light;  
So shine in Beauty's World your Eyes,  
Though they keep off the Shades of night.   

(4.)  
The feeble Stars suffer the shade,  
The lower World to overrun;  
But where your Eyes the Lights are made,  
They keep off Darkness like the Sun.    

Against Drunkenness: A new Song.  

(1.)  
ALL you that in Tippling take delight,  
Come unto my Ditty give ear;  
All you that do Revel and Roar in the night,  
And put sober people in fear.   

(2.)  
First you your Money in Vanity spend,  
Which if you did husband it well;  
In time of distress would be a sure friend,  
And all those that flatter excel.   

(3.)  
The next you your healths and your wi●● do confound,  
And are by strange Witchcraft possess;  
For he whose senses in Liquor are drowned,  
He changes the Man to the beast.   

(4.)  
The Drunkard in quarrels does likewise engage,  
By which comes much trouble and harm;  
And renders himself the fool on the Stage,  
Whilst Coxcombs shall laugh him to scorn.   

(5.)  
If Married he be, and Drunk does roll home,  
Then there is another plague yet;  
So feebly he works in his Wives private Room,  
That nothing but Girls he can get.   

(6.)  
Which now as times go, will never rub off,  
Unless he can Portions provide;  
But how can he do it that daily does Quaff,  
And pours his Estate in his Hide.   

(7.)  
More mischief remains, for when all is done,  
And he offers to go on the score;  
His Host he don't know him, but bids him begun,  
Like a beggarly Son of a Who—.   

(8.)  
Then he with Duke Humphrey must look for a Cup,  
And pinch and repine when too late;  
Tell trees for his Dinner, and sup with a Chop,  
And this is the Drunkards just fate.    

The Forsaken Mistress: A Song.  

(1.)  
WIth praise of my beauty and sighs he did woe me,  
And hasly a while for my Love did pursue;  
But proud of my conquest, and proud of my Game,  
I slighted his Courtship, and laughed at his Flame.  
Yet now I repent that I answered him no,  
Since from a kind Lover he's turned to a foe.  
But he's a m●er Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,  
When a Woman says no, will take it in jest.   

(2.)  
My Eyes then were Stars, and my Cheeks he called Roses,  
But now they're debased, and my Nose but my Nose is.  
He praised ev'ry part, and extolled 'em above  
Fair Helena's, or the bright Goddess of Love.  
But a shame of him now, for a subtle false Knave,  
Denial has freed him that late was my slave.  
Yet be's a mere Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,  
When a Woman says no, will not take it in jest.   

(3.)  
Yet Lasses be wise, when the Lad would be kind,  
And let him all freedom and courtesy find;  
For troth the next Youngster I take in my gin,  
Shall find me more yielding than yet I have been.  
I'll give him no time for to gaze on new faces,  
But look him up close in my kindest embraces.  
Yet be's a mere Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,  
When a Woman says no, will not take it in jest.   

(4)  
Ill hug him securely with Joy in my Arms,  
And heighten his pleasure by force of my Charms  
〈◊〉 ●arth's flowery beds we embracing will lie,  
〈◊〉 there in soft Murmurs full often we'll die;  
But die to new live, when revived by the flame,  
That kindled our Passion, and so die again.  
Yet be's a mere Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,  
When a Woman says no, will not take it in jest.    

The Misse's Confession: A Song.  

(1.)  
I Wench as well as others do,  
I'm young, not yet deformed,  
My tender heart sincere and true,  
Deserves not to be scorned.  
Why, Phyllis then, why will you trade  
With forty Lovers more?  
Can I, said she, with Nature strive?  
Alas I am, alas I am a Wh—.   

(2.)  
Where all my body Larded over  
With Nature's Amorous Probes,  
That you might find in every poor  
A pole and pair of Globes.  
Whilst yet my Eyes alone were free,  
My heart would never doubt.  
In Amorous rage and ecstasy,  
To wish those Eyes put out.    

The Parting Farewell: A Song.  

(1.)  
'tIS not that I am weary grown,  
Of being yours, and yours along.  
●ut with what face can I incline,  
●o keep you to be only mine.  
You whom some kinder power did fashion,  
by Merit, and by Inclination,  
The joy at least of one whole Nation.   

(2.)  
Let meaner spirits of your Sex,  
With humbler aims their thoughts perplex;  
And boast, if by their Arts they can,  
Contrive to make one happy Man.  
Whilst moved by an impartial sense,  
Favours, like nature, you dispense,  
With universal influence.   

(3.)  
See the kind Seed receiving Earth,  
To every grain affords a birth.  
On her no showers unwelcome fall,  
her willing womb retains 'em all.  
And shall my Celia be confined?  
No, live up to thy mighty mind,  
And be the Mistress of Mankind.    

The Jolly Fellow's good Wish: A Song.  

(1.)  
Wlcan, contrive me such a Cup,  
As Nestor used of old;  
Show all thy skill to trim it up,  
Damask it round with Gold.   

(2.)  
Make it so large, that filled with Sack,  
Up to the swelling brim;  
Large Toasts on the delicious Lake,  
Like Ships at Sea may swim.   

(3)  
Engrave not battles on its Cheek,  
With Wars  nought to do;  
I'm none of those that took Mastreich,  
Nor of the Lime-Rout crew.   

(4)  
Let it no name of Planets tell,  
Fixed Stars or Constellations;  
For I am no Sir Sydraphel,  
Nor none of his Relations.   

(5.)  
But carve thereon a spreading Vine,  
Then add two lovely Boys;  
Their limbs in Amorous folds intwine,  
The Type of future Joys.   

(6.)  
Cupid and Bacchus my Saints are,  
May Love and Wine still reign;  
With Wine I wash away my care,  
And then to love again.    

The Lover's Complaint to his Scornful Mistress: A new Song.  

(1.)  
AH, Cloris, Pity or I die,  
The wound admits no cure;  
All Arts to ease my pain I try,  
And find all Arts but poor.  
You in your power the Cordial have  
Alone that gives relief;  
Ah Cloris, lovely Cloris save,  
Or else I die with grief.   

(2.)  
Your Eyes shoot lightning through my heart,  
Your frowns raise in my breast  
A dismal storm, armed with a Dart,  
Your scorn murders my rest.  
I pine and sigh, alas, in vain,  
A  burns within;  
Without I struggle with disdain,  
But can no favour win.   

(3.)  
Yet cannot change as others do,  
Though you unjustly scorn,  
Since the poor Swain that sighs for you,  
For you alone was born.  
No Cloris, no, your heart to move,  
A surer way I'll try;  
And to revenge my slighted love,  
Will still love on and die.   

(4)  
When kill with grief Amintas lies,  
And you to mind shall call;  
The Sighs that now unpityed rise,  
The Tears that vainly fall.  
That welcome hour that ends his smart,  
Will then begin your pain;  
For such a faithful tender heart,  
Can never break in vain.    

The Debate: A Song.  

(1.)  
GIve me leave to Rail at you,  
I ask nothing but my due;  
To call you false, and then to say,  
You shall not keep my heart a day.  
But, alas, against my will,  
I must be your Captive still.  
Ah, be kinder then, for I  
Cannot change, and would not die.   

(2.)  
Kindness has resistless charms,  
All besides but weakly move;  
Fiercest anger it disarms,  
And eclipse the wings of flying Love.  
Beauty does the heart invade,  
Kindness only can persuade;  
It guilds the Lovers servile chain,  
And makes the slave grow pleased again.    

The Reply: A Song.  

(1.)  
NOthing adds to your fond fire,  
More than scorn and cold disdain;  
I to cherish your desire,  
Kindness used, and 'twas in vain.  
You insulted o'er your slave,  
Humble love you soon refused;  
Hope not then a power to have,  
Where ingloriously you used.   

(2.)  
Think not, Thyrsis, I will e'er  
By my Love my Empire lose;  
You grow constant through despair,  
Love returned you would abuse.  
Though you still possess my heart,  
Scorn and rigour I must feign;  
Ah, forgive that only Art,  
Love has left your Love to gain.   

(3.)  
You that could my Heart subdue,  
To new Conquests ne'er pretend;  
let your Example make you true,  
And of a conquered foe a friend.  
Then if e'er I should complain  
Of your Empire, or my Chain;  
Summon all your powerful Charms,  
And sell the Rebel in your Arms.    

Upon MONEY: A Song.  

(1.)  
IT is not the Silver and Gold of itself,  
That makes Men adore it, but 'tis for its power;  
For no Man does dote upon Pelf, because Pelf,  
But all court the Lady in hopes of her Dower.  
The Wonders that now in our days we behold,  
Done by the irresistible power of Gold,  
Our love, and our zeal and affection do mould.   

(2.)  
It purchaseth Kingdoms, States, Sceptres and Crowns,  
Wins Battles, and conquers the Conqueror's bold;  
Takes Bulwarks and Castles, and Armies and Towns,  
Our prime Laws were written in Letters of Gold.  
This lines men's Religion, builds Doctrine and Truth,  
With zeal of Profession the Canter endu'th,  
To club with kind Sarah, or sweet Sister Ruth.   

(3.)  
This Marriages makes, 'tis the centre of Love,  
It draws on the Man, and it pricks up the Woman;  
Birth, Virtue and Parts no affection can move,  
While this makes Lords bow to the Brat of a Broom  
Gives Virtue and Beauty to the Lass that you woe,  
Makes Women of all sorts and ages to do,  
'Tis the soul of the World, and the worldling too.   

(4.)  
This Horses procures you, and Hawks, Hounds & Hares,  
'Tis this keeps your Groom, and your Groom keeps your Gelding;  
It buys Citizens Wives as well as their Wares,  
And makes your coy Ladies so coming and yielding.  
Give boisterous Clowns their insufferable pride,  
Makes Beggars and Fools in great triumph to ride,  
Whilst ruin'd Properties run by their side.    

The Slighted Lover: A new Song.  

(1.)  
AH! why does my Aminta fly  
From him who lives but by her smiles,  
If she her kindness does deny,  
And thus in scorn from me recoils.  
The sadness that her Absence breeds,  
Will soon grow up to gloomy death;  
A long, long night, alas, succeeds,  
When for her sake I yield my breath.   

(2.)  
But if she kindly will return,  
Her presence will keep death away;  
O! rather let me feel her scorn,  
Than from my sight she thus should stray.  
It will a pleasure prove in pain,  
To gaze upon the lovely Fair;  
Last, Salamander like, on Flame,  
Or, like Chameleons, only live on Air.    

She would seem Angry: A Song.  

(1.)  
WHat cruel pains Corinda takes,  
To force that harmless frown;  
When not a Charm her Face forsakes,  
Love cannot lose its own.  
So sweet a Face, so soft a Heart,  
Such Eyes so very kind,  
Betrays, alas, the  Art  
Virtue had ill designed.   

(2.)  
Poor feeble Tyrant, who, in vain,  
Would proudly take upon her,  
Against kind nature to maintain,  
Affected Rules of Honour.  
The scorn she bears so helpless proves,  
When I plead Passion to her;  
That much she fears, yet more she loves,  
Her Vassal should undo her.    

The Recovery of Love: A Song.  

(1.)  
HOW unconcerned Love now decreases,  
Behold that Face of thine;  
The Graces and the Dresses,  
Which both conspire to make thee shine,  
And make me think thou art Divine.  
And yet methinks thou'rt wondrous fair,  
But I have no desires;  
Those Glories in thy Face that are,  
Kindled not in my Heart those fires,  
For they remain, though that expires.   

(2.)  
Nor was't my Eyes that had such power  
To burn myself, and you;  
For than they'd every thing devour,  
But I do several others view,  
Unsinged, and so don't think it true.  
Nay, both together could not do't,  
Else we had died e'er this,  
Without some higher power to boot,  
Which must rule both if either miss,  
Altogether to no purpose is.   

(3.)  
It pusses my Philosophy,  
To find wherein consists,  
This power of Love and Tyranny,  
Or in a Lover's Eye or Breast;  
Be't where it will, there let it rest.  
However, that I once did love,  
I boldly do profess;  
But henceforth to myself will prove  
More wise in loving less,  
And grow more strong as it does more decrease.    

On Fading Beauty: A Song.  

(1.)  
CElia be gentle, I advise,  
Make up for time misspent;  
When Beauty on its deathbed lies,  
'Tis high time to repent.  
Such is the Malice of your Fate,  
That makes you old so soon;  
Your pleasure ever comes too late,  
How early e'er begun.   

(2)  
Think what a wretched thing is she,  
Whose Stars contrive in spite,  
The Morning of her Love should be,  
Her fading beauties night.  
Then if to make your Ruin more,  
You'll peevishly be coy,  
By wishing yet in Love be poor,  
And never know the joy.   

(3.)  
May Transports that can give new fire,  
To stay the flying Soul.  
Ne'er answer you in your desire,  
But make you yet more dull.  
May Raptures that can move each part,  
To taste the Joys above.  
In all their height improved by Art,  
Still fly you when you love.    

Advice to his Fair Mistress: A Song.  

(1.)  
LOvely Mistress, whilst you do enjoy,  
Youth and Beauty be you sure to use 'em;  
And be not fickle, be not coy,  
Thyself or Lovers to destroy.  
Since all those Lilies, and those Roses,  
That Lovers find, or Love supposes,  
To flourish in thy face,  
Will tarry but a little space:  
And youth and beauty are but only lent  
To you by nature, with this kind intent,  
You should enjoy, but not abuse 'em;  
And when enjoyments may be had, not fond to ref●● 〈◊〉   

(2.)  
Let Lovers flattery ne'er prevail with thee,  
Nor their complacient tongues that don't agree,  
With their Vows and Protestations be,  
As snares for to deceive thee;  
Let the high praises of the witty,  
Though ne'er so costly, never fit ye;  
Unless the truth in all their words you find,  
For Lovers see, though Love is blind.  
Sickness or Age will quickly strip away  
Those fading Glories of your youthful May,  
And of your Graces all berieve ye,  
Then those that did adore before will slight thee, and so leave thee.   

(3.)  
Then while ye're fair and young, be kind, but wise;  
 not, nor proudly use denying:  
That tempting toy thy beauty lies,  
Not in thy face, but Lover's Eyes;  
And he that dotes on thee, may smother  
His love i'th' beauties of another;  
Or flying at all Game,  
May quench, or else divert his flame.  
His Reason too may chance to interpose,  
And Love declines as fast as Reason grows;  
And so you may repent at leisure,  
Too young, too old, too nice, too free, too-slow destroys your pleasure.    

A new Song, in two Parts; or, The True Lover's Joy.  

Cloris.  
WHy, Damon, do you stay from my kind Arms?  
Why thus delay the height of all my Charms?  
●as it for this I hasted to the Shade,  
●nd to escape such large excuses made?  
Trod pathless ways to 'scape those prying Eyes,  
That would have sent their beams into our joys:  
That would have reached the secrets of our love;  
Then, prithee Damon, haste unto the Grove.   

Damon.  
I come, my Cloris, all over desire,  
Armed by great Love, with all his potent fire.  
The mighty Fever kindly begs your cure;  
A seaver, though allayed, will yet endure.  
Then, fair Physician, see your Patient stand,  
To be disposed of by your gentle hand.  
Yet if you do at this time ease my pain,  
It is so sweet, I shall wish it again.    

The Mourning Lover for his Departed Mistress: A new Song.  

(1.)  
SHe's gone! ah me, my Joy is fled;  
Alas, she's mingled with the dead.  
Those Eyes are set in Shades of Night,  
From which so late the World had light.  
The blooming Roses that her Face,  
With Angel-beauty late did grace,  
Are ravished by the tyrant death,  
Whose pale cold hand has seized her breath.   

(2.)  
And can I, my dear Saint, survive?  
Can I without my Angel live?  
Ah, no! ah, no! it cannot be;  
To Heaven she's gone, and chides at me.  
For lingering thus, thinks me unkind;  
O! then, ye Fates; O! let me find  
A passage to her dear-loved Arms,  
There to Revel in Immortal Charms.     

THE SECOND PART, CONTAINING The whole Art and Mystery of COURTSHIP: With Infallible Rules to succeed therein.  

Adorned with Eloquence, and furnished with Cordial Advice.  
MEN and Women were made for the Society of each other: and this Society becomes the more delectable when Beauty assists our Desire. For as it is natural for Men and Women to desire, so is it as natural for them to desire what is most pleasing, which is Beauty.  
Beauty then consists in the Lineaments and Perfections of the Body, and the actions and demeanour of that beautiful Body. For there are some who have Beauty, but no beautiful deportment. Others who have something, I cannot tell what that pleases, who cannot for all that be called beautiful. There are also some Beauties more proper for the Addresses of Love and Courtship; and of those I will give you a description, first in reference to Women.  
For the Subject of Love and Address, he that would choose aright, must choose a young Lass of Eightee? years' of age, moderately plump, straight and tall, the air of her Countenance lofty and majestic, her Head well set on, her Eyes sweet and laughing, of a black colour, her Mouth of a moderate wideness, her Teeth white, her Forehead inclining rather to be small than large, but insensibly arched; her Cheeks full, her Hair black, the compass of her Visage round, at the same time let her Shoulders be large and fleshy; her Breasts hard, well divided, and sustaining themselves; her Arms thick and plump; her Skin neither too white nor too brown, but of a mixture between both. As to her Conditions, let her be decently and fashionably habited, modest and gay in her actions, not over-talkative, yet witty in her discourse. When she appears naked, let her have a full, round Belly, little Feet, and turning outward, a Leg somewhat plum in the middle, Knees short and small, a well-raised Thigh, well furnished with hard and round Buttocks, a small Waft.  
As for the Beauty of a Man, it consists chief in his shape and proportion, and in the strength of his body; however, let him be fashionable, as well in his habit as behaviour; let him be rather lean than fat, his Hair long and curling upon his shoulders, his Neck short and free, with a Breast velveted with short hair; his Shoulders, Reinsand Buttocks large and brawny.  
These are the exactnesses of Perfection required in both Sexes, but because all persons are not both to be accomplished, therefore as well Men as Women must be content with their fortune: However, when a Man first goes about to court a Mistress, let her be such a one, as to his fancy may seem to excel all other Women. She must be the Only person agreeable and pleasing to her Lover, or else his Courtship will be only dissimulation.  
Being thus fixed upon his choice, the Wooer is next ●o observe the Disposition of his Mistress, that he may ●he better be able to frame himself to please her humour; wherein great care must be taken as to two ●hings, Compliance and Double-diligence. Compliance requires a most dutiful respect and obedience to her Will. Whatever she says or commands, there must 〈◊〉 no contradiction. If she will have red to be green, 〈◊〉 let it be; if she will have blue to be black, it must 〈◊〉 so. However, he must not be a faint-hearted Wooer neither— Let him have a good opinion of himself, and believe their is no Virgin in the World that can get the force of his Courtship; and that he ●as no more to do but to spread his Net, and the bird will be taken: For you may as soon believe that the Birds will leave chattering in the Spring, or that Grasshoppers will cease to sing in Summer, as that a ●rightly Virgin will refuse the Courtship of a handlime person, and a smooth tongue; for stolen Sweets 〈◊〉 as grateful to Women as to Men at all times: ●●ly it is convenient that the Men should ask the Question first, Women being supposed to be the more modest. Observe, that the first Visits are con●m'd in the mute language of the Eye, and the dis●urses only of sighs and amorous glances, which are ●ot so insignificant, but that the age of fourteen understands the meaning of them to a Miracle; and the ●an shall soon find that he is understood by the ●●shes in his Mistress' Cheeks, when he casts his Eye ●pon her. For there is no Beauty without a flame, ●or any flame without a fire; and, as the Song says, 
If Modesty itself appear  
With Blushes in her Face,  
The Blood that dances there  
Must revel in some other place.  But let a Man be as confident of his Parts as he pleases, 'tis good to have an Interest in his Mistress' Chamber, and an Instrument near her Elbow; to which end no person so fit as the Maid that combs her Hair in a Morning, to speak in his praise, and to take all opportunities to tell her Mistress the greatness of his affection, and to win the young Virgin to have pity upon her Lovers languishing condition.  
He that courts a young Widow, may do well to inquire out his Mistresses Confident, and besure to make fair weather with her; 'tis a neverfailing way; for such carry a great stroke in Love affairs, whether it be for the better, or for the worse.  
These are outward helps, but as to personal advantages, there is a greater secret that lies in the proper management of words and protestations; of which a Wooer ought never to be sparing, for they cost him little; and so that there is no person in the World but may be as rich as he pleases in Promises. However, besure not to go beyond the limits of Performance, for extravagant Vows and Promises soon betray the falseness of a Man's intentions, and that he never intends to be as good as his word. But as for future obedience and subjection, rule and command, and a hundred of those gaieties, as impossibility of ●ving without her, or of ever being happy; if she prove cruel and remorseless, these things not only please, but move compassion.  
Neither let a Wooer be niggardly of his Commendations. Extol the Lineaments of her Face, commend the colour and softness of her Hair, her round Fingers and her little Feet. Nothing can be more grateful then to commend in Women what they are so proud of, and so careful to preserve. Nor will a few modest Protestations be amiss to confirm what you say especially if she seem incredulous; for some there are that will hardly be induced to believe their Lover, although he spoke never so true without them; nor must a Wooer omit to intermix now and then with a kiss or two, by such surprises as he shall find most convenient to his opportunities, in the midst of his Amorous discourse. Perhaps she will resist at first, and give a Man a sharp reproof. But that resistance is only to show that she desires not to be overcome without resistance. However, let the Man be careful of being rude or boisterous, or of giving his Mistress occasion of complaining that his Kisses are hard, and unseasonably stolen from her. She that admits of kissing, and will not take the rest, deserves to lose what she has already received. After free admission to a Lady's lips, the Lady that refuses to satisfy her Servants lawful desires, shows more of Clownery than Modesty. For though it may be cal●'d a kind of Force to kiss without leave, yet it is a sort of Violence not unpleasing to young Ladies.  
The next part of Courtship of Officiousness and Double-diligence. As for example, if a young Wooer see the least speck of dirt of lint upon his Mistress' Garment, let him be sure to brush it off; if there be none, yet let him brush off nothing to keep himself in employment. If her Fan or her Glove fall by accident, let him be in an instant ready to take them up. 'Slight services many times create a deep affection. The very reaching of a Chair, or laying a Cushion seasonably and opportunely, are many times civilities never forgotten. And he, that by such little pieces of servi●de as these, has a prospect of enjoying his wishes, were a fool to stand upon his punctilios.  
In making of Presents, he is unwise who is lavish; however, a Man must take care that his Presents be proper. In the Spring Posies and Flowers; in the latter end of the year the choicest Fruits; and let him be sure to say they were far-fetched and dear-bought, and that they grew in such a Garden, though he purchased them in the next Market. There are also many other Toys of little value which insinuate acceptance, and make way for the Presenter, of which he shall never have any reason to repent the bestowing, should he in the end lose his aim.  
If at any time he hears of his Mistress being indisposed, let him be sure to give diligent attendance upon her, be with her as early and as late as decency will permit; and let him be sure to do her all those services which she will accept at his hands; such te●monies of affection lay an obligation, and few young Ladies would be accounted guilty of ingratitude There have been some Lovers that would never leave their Mistresses, when they have lain sick of the Small Pox, but have still taken all occasions to attend a●● divertise them; and, which is more, then at the same time when their Mistress' Beauty seemed almost quite defaced, have made the same Vows and Protestation of their deep affection, as in the time of their mo●flourishing health.  
In sending of Letters, whether it be to return thanks, express affection, and give under your han● the Testimonies of your Love, or to make Complaint a Wooer must be sure to be plain and easy; High● flown Expressions, and Cramp-words, are not for Lady's; but let them be such as he would give if he we●● present himself, smooth and flattering. If she sho●● chance to refuse to receive it, and send it back aga●● let him hope however that she will read one at leng● and never leave sending till he has vanquished t●● piece of Female-obstinacy. His perseverance will ● vercome Penelope his self; for Troy was taken, though it were long first. The same method is to be obleved, though she send him bad tidings at first, and desire him hot to solicit her any more in that kind. For she is afraid of being taken at her word, and wishes that may come to pass, which she forbids.  
These are the General Rules to be observed in Courtship: But now, because no Courtship can be made without Words, we shall set down some forms upon many occasions; not that the same forms of words are to be always observed, but to be varied as fancy moves, which always guides a true Lover, and makes him Eloquent.   

Addresses and Replies proper in Courtship, etc. to Court a Young Gentlewoman.  
The Address.  
FAir Lady, attracted as well by your Virtues as your Beauty, I come to offer you my service at the shrine of your perfection, desiring you to excuse my boldness, as being compelled by Love, whose irresistible Power no mortal is able to withstand.  
The Answer.  
Sir, for you Rhetorical Expression I should give ●on commendations; but where Compliments are strained so high, the Tongue is seldom the true Interpreter of the Heart. Therefore if you would have me to think any Reality in your Speech, leave your Compliments; for Truth requires not Art to cover it.  
The Address.  
Madam, I desire to be rightly understood. Then ●e me leave to say it is your bright beauty that as enthralled my affection; those fair eyes of yours have wounded my Heart, which nothing but the Balsam of your Love can make whole again.  
The Answer.  
Oh! Sir, you must pardon me, if I think you flatter: I cannot think my Beauty has such force to work such great effects within your heart.  
The Reply.  
Say not so, dear Madam, for if you felt the force of Love's Dart as I do, and as I wish you did, you would say that nothing can affect a Soul, like the pain which I endure for your sake. Pity then my condition, and consider with yourself that your fair Eyes have too much brightness in them to serve for baits or allurements of a dissembling Lover.  
The Answer.  
Sir, you must pardon me if I doubt of the sincerity of your affection till farther trial; I shall therefore suspend my Answer, till Time shall make known your reality. In the mean time live in hope; yet know, that I shall never cherish any Love but what has Virtue at the end on't.  
The Reply.  
Fair Madam, I return you Thanks, and may the Heavens so far prosper my suit, as Virtue and Honour are the sole ends that I propose.  
Another way. The Address.  
Fair Maid, I know not which way to open to you the secrets of my breast; my tongue falters in its discourse, as not being used to these attempts. But this however I must acknowledge, that you are the Only She on whom my affections are placed: You are the only Saint whom I adore; the end and aim of all my desires and hopes.  
The Answer.  
You speak too high language for me, Sir; and 〈◊〉 unworthiness checks me to think I deserve it. B●● you Men love to flatter, and with smooth words to delude young Maids, and then laugh at their condescending folly.  
The Reply.  
If my Tongue and Heart do not agree, may the one be stricken dumb, and the other punished with disdain where it most affects. No, all that is mine is no less yours, then are my own thoughts and words. Nor can I ever do so much for you, but that the affection wherewith I adore you, and the constancy I shall observe in your service will prove, as you shall find, far greater.  
The Answer.  
Love, I am told, laughs at Perjuries; and Men believe women's hearts to be made of wax, fit to receive any impression that a smooth tale puts upon them. But I am not so young to believe all they say; not so unwise by a few flattering words to enter Love's Labyrinth, wherein so many before me have lost their way.  
The Reply.  
Fair Maid, be not so cruel to him that so dearly affects you. Narcissus disdaining others, was at last punished with the love of himself. Beauty is but a blossom, and therefore fading. Time forces Youth to give place to Age. And most commonly those who disdain others when young, live till they lose the hopes of opportunity.  
The Answer.  
Can I assure myself your love were real, Opinion might alter, and Fancy might fix, where now it distrusts. I might say that I were yours, were I sure that you were really mine. Yet this know, that if I find you faithful, you may expect a better answer at your return.  
The Answer.  
In confidence of that happiness, I shall not fail to give you several Visits, and every time new Testimonies of the Reality of my affections.   

To Woo a Widow, the surest way.  
The Address.  
COme, Widow, it is now time to dry away Tears from your Eyes, and to bethink you of another Husband. It is too much for one single Woman to take all the care of a Family upon her, and therefore I come to offer my service to be a partner with you in this Trouble.  
The Answer.  
I thank you, Sir, for your kind proffer, but I am not yet resolved to alter my Condition. The remembrance of so dear and kind a Husband cannot so soon die, nor let me entertain a new a Lover into my heart.  
The Reply.  
You know, Widow, 'tis a true saying, We must live by the Quick, and not by the Dead. And therefore do not think the Stock of good Husbands so far spent, but that there is still one left, who can equal, if not exceed him, in every degree.  
The Answer.  
Such Husbands are thick sown, but come up this. However, Sir, I speak not this of you. For, I confess, if I were minded to Marry, I should embrace your love as soon as any one that I know. But being now free, I intent not to put myself under subjection any more.  
The Reply.  
Be not so much an enemy, Madam, to your own good, as through a foolish nicety, to debar yourself the pleasures of a second Marriagebed.  
The Answer.  
Good Sir, if you love me, show it in this, to cease your suit at this time; for, to tell you true, I am not now in the loving vein.  
The Reply.  
Then farewell, Widow, for this time: yet do not think I will not come again. Women were made to be won, and therefore Denial is no disgrace.   

An Address of Courtship; or, The Passionate Wooer.  
MY Vital breath runs coldly through my veins; I am sick for your love, dearest Lady; neither is there any thing but your own Heart can heal me. Believe me, fairest of Women, there is nothing beneath the Moon, but your frown, can grieve me.  
Sir, Methinks this is a strange fit.  
Lady, Count not my love light, because 'tis sudden. For by Cupia's Shafts, I swear, I never knew what Love was till now.  
Sir, I entreat you not to wrong yourself, and me. Your Love is violent, and soon will have a period: for that is most perfect love which loves for ever.  
Madam, Such love is mine, believe me; for although Men use to lie, yet do I speak truth. And therefore, Madam, give me sentence of speedy life or death: Can you affect so mean a person?  
Truly, Sir, I should deny my thoughts, to give you an absolute denial, yet must I not turn disloyal to former promises; and therefore let this suffice, I cannot wrong my friend.  
Then here my love must end, and in your presence thus for love I die.  
Nay hold, Sir, these are such Soulkilling Passions, I had rather wrong my friend, then that you should wrong yourself.  
Love me, dear Soul, or else my life is but delayed. my Vow is fixed in Heaven, and no fear shall move me. For my life is a death that tortures me, unless you love me.  
Give me then but a little respite, and I will resolve you.  
Alas, Madam, my heart denies it; my blood is violent; now or else never love me. Love me, and both Art and Nature shall strive at large to be profuse in ravishing your sense. I will entice dalliance from thee with smiles, and steal away thy heart with my chafed Kisses.  
Well, Sir, I yield, and am all your own.   

An Amorous Complaint.  
LAdy, Wounded by your beauty, I will acknowledge it a mercy if you kill me not. Yet rather murder me then, Vulnerate still your Creature, unless you mean to heal what still you hurt; giving me a remedy from the same Instruments wherewith you pierced me. Your Eye having shot lightning into my breast, hath power with a smile to fetch out the consuming fire, and yet leave my heart inflamed.  
Sir, Although, where I am not guilty of an offence, I might justly deny to descend to a satisfaction. Yet rather than I would be accounted a Murderer, I would study to preserve so sweet a Model as yourself. And since you desire that my Eyes, which have inflamed you, should by the virtue of a gracious smile, make you happy in your fire, they shall shine as you would have them; disclaim that beam that displays itself upon another Object.  
A thousand Thanks to my dear Saint.   

The Trial.  
MAdam, if the Opportunities of serving you, were as ordinary as those of speaking to you, I had rendered you as many Services, as I have spoken words. I dare not confirm them always with the same Testimonies; and since I am so little capable of persuasion, I fear I shall discover my ignorance, and not my servitude.  
Sir, I am of opinion, that the custom of persuasion is only used there, where truth is wanting; and therefore seeing you have always protested the Truth, you ought now to make use of it, else you will make your Oaths, and my Credit, as indifferent as your Word and Assurance would be.  
Madam, the Cunning of a discourse shall never do me such an ill office, as to make me believe an untruth; for I am ignorant of the custom and invention thereof, which shall cause me not to seek out such an enterprise, to the end that being warranted from the disturbance, which I find between the Resolution and the Event, I should not give you that for an assurance, that the whole World seeing so noble a ●esign as mine, will judge that I own an Eternal perse●●rance to it.  
Sir, be advised to confirm your mind to your words, 〈◊〉 time will give us always opportunity to distinguish ●●tween those that are feigned, and those that are real. Truly I must make this Promise in answer to your Promises; that if I do not find them true, you will repent to have so vainly lost them. For I shall always reserve to myself this power, either to reject or accept of what you render me.  
Madam, why should your belief take any ill impression of your Servant? I do call Love and your Beauty to witness, that I shall always preserve myself the same.  
Well, Sir, I shall content myself at present with your drift, notwithstanding that I shall expect better assurances.  
Madam, be confident you shall draw as much fidelity from your Conquest, as I expect honour and happiness from my subjection.  
But I desire to know whether your Promises shall be as faithfully kept as your Oaths.  
Much more, Madam; for I can give you but wea● words, which my ignorance furnishes me withal, where by you work effects worthy a glorious death.  
Will you then die for me too, Sir?  
Yes, Madam; for that which would be a death 〈◊〉 others, would be a life to me, provided it came from your hand.  
Live then, Sir, and take heed your Repentance 〈◊〉 not kill you.  
'tis well then, Madam, I shall live your Serva● and live long through the worth of my Preserver.   

The Demand of Assurance.  
FAirest, it is now time that I should require 〈◊〉 you some Assurances of your friendship, became I cannot grant you that authority which you 〈◊〉 over my affections, but by the services which I am willing to render to your power. The proof whereof depends upon Opportunity, and the Opportunity upon your Commands: Swear to me therefore by your fair Eyes, that you love that which they have subdued, that I may boast my Ruin to be as well a mark of my Glory, as of your Puissance.  
Do you think, Sir, that that which is ruined by the Eyes, can be beloved by the Heart.  
Dear Lady, why should not you affect that love which you yourself have created? would you cause it to be born, and die at the same instant? That would be the action of an inconstant soul.  
Sir, it is you that run the hazard of being called inconstant: For if Love proceed from Merit, you will soon find some one more worthy of your affection than myself.  
Madam, I shall never seek the means to find any more signal worth then what you yourself possess. It is permitted to those who are less worthy to have such jealousies; but not to you whose beauty has such a supereminence above all other in the World. No, Madam, take counsel of your own worth, and it will show the fair Election I have made; how impossible it is to be changed; the design coming from the judgement of the Soul, which being divine, cannot err. But, Sir, they say that Love is very subject to Knowledge: of which you being so well provided, 'tis to be feared that you may make use of those agreeable diversities, that love does every day present to unfaithful Lovers.  
Madam, may he banish me from his Empire, if I have any other will then what is agreeable to his. He sees that I am yours, so his Power and my Will ●re agreed; my Designs concur with his Commands.  
Sir, I believe that Love himself knew not how to force you to love.  
Madam, he was afraid lest he should be made himself a slave: He has no force able to resist your Puissnnce, unless it be your own. Therefore since you have this Glory entire to yourself, to have vanquished all the World, there remains nothing more but that you should vanquish yourself.  
Sir, I can do any thing else but vanquish, having neither Will nor Thought that doth not render obedience to the Duty, which I have taken to be the perfect guide of my life.  
Madam, you oppose your designs to my prayers, to the end this refusal should redouble my Passion, and cause me to persist more eagerly in the pursuit of your tempting Graces. Yet it suffices, that the pain and difficulty of the Request will remain the Glory of my Conquest.  
Sir, if your Difficulties are the things that can create your Glories, why do you complain?  
Madam, I do not repine at the pain, but at your unkindness that will not acknowledge it. But if you have no such unkindness, I conjure your fair Lips to produce some assurance of your friendship.  
Well, Sir, than I promise in reference to your servitude, to acknowledge it for the price of your Constancy; and believe 〈◊〉, ●hat as my true Passion doth only oblige me, so there is no adjuration shall have power over me.  
Madam, I wish I could transform my whole W●● into words, to render you sufficient thanks for th● favourable promise. But since I am not born capable of such a happiness, I will only say this, That 〈◊〉 to whom your favours are so liberally extended, sh●●● pass the rest of his days in your service.   

An Address of perfect Courtship.  
LAdy, who are inspired with all the Praises that belong to your Sex, I am come to offer you my services, which you may at present only call Obedient, hoping that your better knowledge of it will style it faithful.  
Sir, I think Fame is more favourable to me then Truth, since all that has been published concerning me proves so false; and therefore you have reason to present me your feigned service, in obedience to my feigned merit.  
Madam, you wrong your Beauty, which being so great, can work no other designs in me, but those of only honouring you.  
Sir, This confirms my former Opinion; for seeing myself without beauty, of which you cannot be ignorant, I must necessarily be unprovided of all those services that ddpend thereon.  
Madam, I fear I should sin against the Truth, should I put myself to the trouble to make you see them. It is a thing so visible of itself, that by endeavouring to demonstrate it by words, I should presume to assist your judgement.  
Sir, I find you are easily able to overcome my Rhetoric, but not my Belief.  
Madam, I am confident to show this advantage, by showing the proofs of my Obedience, that Men will condemn your misbelief to authorise my true Say.  
Sir, Such kind of words as these are usual in this 〈◊〉, which promise always a great deal of service, ●●t perform little but outward Compliments.  
Madam, 'Tis very ordinary to swear the same words, but a thing very extraordinary to make them afterwards appear to be truth. But that which may assure you I do not walk the common path is this, That I know your beauty to be such, as is only to be served by Knowledge, not by Imitation; which makes my design glorious, and my enterprise noble, that waits on such an Object.  
Sir, I know not how you can call this an Enterprise, since your design is more easy than courageous; and a noble Enterprise has always difficulties that oppose it.  
Madam, My resolution to serve you is so magnanimous, that there can no ill fortune attend upon it: For if you make the end happy, it will be always as honour to my Courage, to have and to pretend 〈◊〉 your accomplished Graces.  
Sir, Since you establish your Content upon unhapness, your hopes cannot deceive you much: or if they do deceive you, ●twill be in making you happy another way.  
Madam, I can easily count it an honour to ser●● you, as being obliged by your Merit, and my Obedience.  
Sir, I shall never counsel a generous Soul to stop at such a design, since his Resolution is so low, that ● fallibly both the Design must fall, and Repentance ensue  
Madam, That which animates me more to do 〈◊〉 service, is this, That I shall receive this honour fro● the Enterprise, that there is no small difficulty 〈◊〉 performing it, with that perfection which it require●  
Sir, If you give such proofs as you offer of yo● services, you shall be acknowledged through the 〈◊〉 Empire of Love.  
Madam, Since I have the courage to pretend to the Merit of your fair Graces, I shall take care to keep myself constant; and certainly it behoves me, there being so strict a watch over us.   

To make known an Affection for a Mistress.  
MAdam, Among all the days of my life, I must account this the happiest, wherein I had the honour first to know you.  
Sir, If I knew any thing in myself worthy your Merits, I should esteem myself obliged to employ it to your Honour; but there being in me nothing but imperfection, I do not imagine how the knowledge of me can any way contribute to your content, much less to your well-being.  
Madam, I am so sensible of your may perfections, that I find myself obliged to honour them to the utmost of my power, and to offer you my most humble service.  
Sir, This is your courtesy and favour that seek to qualify my defects, only to show the excellent Endowments that Nature has bestowed upon you.  
Pardon me, Madam, 'tis the enchanting force of your worth and beauty, which oblige me not only to honour you, but to seek an interest in your Graces.  
Sir, All that a Daughter of Honour owes to a Person of your Merit, you have already at your devotion. I respect your Qualities, admire your Virtues, and wish you a happiness answerable to the nobleness of your designs  
Believe it, Madam, that my desires are good, and that my affection, if your wishes flow from a sincere intention to oblige me, is the most happy that ever was in the World.  
Pardon me, Sir, I not so piercing an Apprehension to understand the meaning of your intentions. That which I say, is upon no other account then to render you the honour and respect which is due to you.  
It is true, madam, I do you wrong to go about to make you believe, that which I have never made apparent by any certain proof. However, that shall not hinder me from telling you, that your perfections have so far encaptivated my affection, that I have resolved neither to love nor to serve any other but yourself. I therefore only entreat you, to esteem any affection real, and to perfect your own wishes.  
Certainly, Sir, I cannot believe you would set your affection upon a person so inconsiderable. It suffices me to have the honour to know you; and I desire your good fortune may guide you to some person more worthy your esteem.  
Madam, My resolution is unfeigned to serve you to the utmost of my power: nor does your refusal diminish any thing of my affection; take it only for granted, that I desire to be your servant.  
Sir, I am not Mistress of myself, and for that reason cannot accept of your offer: but if you shall find that the affection which you say you bear me, is well liked of by my Parents, I shall esteem myself very much honou'rd in your love, and shall, as far as Virtue will permit, do any thing to assure you of my good will.  
Lady, You infinitely oblige me, for which I return you many Millions of thanks: I shall seek all occasion to obtain the leave of your Parents, in the mea● while honour me with your Commands, and suffe● me to kiss your hands.  
Sir, I am your very humble Servant.   

The DEPARTURE.  Philander and Leonora. Phil. 
ADieu, dear Beauty, it behoves me to be banished from you, that I may dispose my soul to esteem you the more: one way by the loss of your presence, another way by recollecting the thoughts of past happiness.  Len. 
Truly, Sir, you have very great reason to make use of your fancy: For Fancy and Thoughts will forge imaginary Merits, where your Eyes and Judgement will find the contrary.  Phil. 
You do very well to make use of a new custom; I believe you would persuade yourself to speak false, that you might have an advantage over every one that breathes nothing but the truth.  Phil. 
Is it possible that such a Vanity should make you offend that which I honour, and you possess? Truly, Madam, you will gain nothing by it but the pleasure of fine words.  Leon. 
Call them rather true, and then you will speak Truth yourself.  Phil. 
You continue, Madam, acquiring new glories to your persuasions, by maintaining Paradoxes against your beauty, which will be always perfect in itself, though not in your opinion.  Leon. 
Sir, were I perfect, I should know myself; Perfection being the knowledge of one's self. If then you will allow me that, I may be permitted to style myself very poor in Merits. But you would pervade the contrary to exercise your parts, knowing ●at 'tis a greater honour to vanquish the Truth, ●hen to sustain it.  Phil. 
Madam, the design which I have to serve you, may give you testimony sufficient of that power which you have to dispose of me▪ In one moment I saw you possessed of a thousand Wonders, and at the same moment I was sensible of a thousand Torments of Love: and being capable of nothing but admiration, methought that this beauty was in the World for no other end, but to deserve, and form to be obedient to. I see no reason fairest, that the belief which I have taken, with the clearest judgement that I have of your beauty, should be swallowed up with your misbelieving opinions.  Leon. 
They say that Contradiction animates persons the more; and therefore I will be silent to suppress these unjust praises. Perhaps you will have pity on my feeble resistance, and be weary of conquering so easily.  Phil. 
Madam, 'tis rather myself that ought to be silent, being so lately in an Astonishment. But as for you, Madam, it would be a sin against your fair Lips, whose words are Oracles.  Leon. 
Then pray Sir, why do not you believe what I say? for all Oracles are truth.  Phil. 
But why will you rather, Madam, by persuasion hinder the belief, which I have taken with sight and judgement? For I will believe your Beauty against all your unbelief and undervaluings; and also continue the services I have sworn you against any thing that shall hinder it. My attempt also has promised my design, that future Ages shall admire your merit, and my subjection, and record us as the most faithful Lovers in Love's Dominions.  Leon. 
I fear, Sir, Time will alter this opinion.  Phil. 
Time. Madam, can do nothing against what Love has ordained: He is the Master of Fortune, and an Enemy to Change. But wherefore this superfluity of speech? It is better to believe by the force of sight, ●●en by the force of persuasion. And therefore at ●●is time it is more necessary for me to demand Remedies for this separation, the apprehension whereof ●akes me endure this present pain.  Phil. 
Sir, do but forget your design, and you will ●oid the pain that will follow, and also the Repentance.  Phil. 
No, Madam, I shall keep the Memory of my ●●sign Eternally, and shall always see painted before ●●e the glory of my Enterprise. Adieu, dear Beauty, 〈◊〉 shall never cast your Eyes downward, but you ●●all see lying at your feet him that admires you, nor ●●er elevate your Thoughts to your deserts, but you ●●all remember your Conquest. Adieu fairest, for 〈◊〉 I leave the Sun, and go to seek out Night, and ●●rrow's Cell.   

The RETURN.  Orlando and Fidelia. ●●d. 
I Come now, Madam, to receive as much content from your cheerful Countenance, the loss of it has yielded me Sorrow; I know the ●●d will now be as great as the Evil, since they pro●●d both from the same cause.  Fid. 
Sir, I do believe you receive the one, as well ●ou have suffered the other. But I beseech you, 〈◊〉 tell me whence that pain proceeds, which you say 〈◊〉 did endure; for as for myself, I believe the plea●● of thinking is greater than that of seeing.  ●●d. 
Madam, it is permitted me to think, but ●●erience forbids me to believe that Opinion: For I receive from my thoughts only a good imagination; but the sight cannot err.  Fid. 
But however it is said, Sir, that the Presence only contents the Eyes, which are mortal; but Absence exercises the Soul, which is divine; and therefore if Absence any way afflicted you, you might easily have avoided it.  Orland. 
It was some good Genius, Madam, that took me lately from your Eyes, that I might the better value the happiness of their lustre, and avoid the extremity of that pain, which the loss of them made me endure, causing in me such an impatience to return to you, that every hour I stayed from you seemed an Age.  Fid. 
That which is foreseen is easily avoided. Now you perceive whence the evil that you speak of proceeds. Nay. the little occasion you had to fear it, makes you find it out willingly. Therefore blame your own desires, which have procured you this Evil, and complain not upon Destiny, which is always just.  Orland. 
My will is not the cause; for than I should fly myself, and come back to you. But, Love, to abuse me the more, gave me the desire, and hindered the effect. Though I believe it to be one of his Destinies; in regard it behoves a true passion to overcome the Violence of all Opposition by a diligently Constancy.   

Full Satisfaction.  Amphialus and Celia. Amph. 
Madam, the day wherein I had the happiness to present my soul and affection to you, and when you made an entire Conquest of all that was within me, I had also a thousand Jealousies of Misfortune; for the fairest Conquests are always crossed, and my small merit did not permit me the honour of your friendship. Since than that you and my good fortune have deceived my apprehension; therefore by how much the more extraordinary the affection is which you have testified to me, so much the more carefully shall I keep the obligation which I have to serve you.  Cel. 
Not me, Sir, I never could pretend to your favour: That's a happiness, which, I swear, my desire both rather enjoy, than my hope; and there is a reason for it, since you are the possessor of so many rich malities.  Amph. 
I see, Madam, I shall possess nothing hereafter, since I must take all from myself to bestow it up●● her, for whose sake I could willingly suffer myself ●● be robbed of all.  Celestina 
When I shall enjoy that happiness, the Gift ●ill be much greater than all I can yet call my own.  Amph. 
Teach me, Madam, how I may swear, and ●●ou shall see what use I will make of it; to assure you, ●●at I am wholly yours, and that which Love gives ●●ou now, can never be taken from you but by ●eath.  Cel. 
Sir, be confident that I shall diligently seek all opportunities to deserve you; and receive these words 〈◊〉 the most infallible that ever faith swore.  Amph. 
Madam, I shall live always at your Devotion.  Cel. 
And I, Sir, living to you, shall live to myself.  Amph. 
Then, Lady, let us tie our souls together with this Kiss. And now this Enterprise having given me so much joy as to think of it, I will go sacrifice my Silence to your judgement.   

The Anatomy of BEAUTY.  

HAIR.  
HER Hair is like the Beams that adorn Apollo's Head.  
Love twists the Hair of her enchanting Locks, to make Strings for Cupi●'s Bow.  
Locks so aptly trimmed, that every Hair catches a Soul, ensnaring all beholders.  
Her Hair so is radiant, that Love sits fettered in those golden snares.  
The Amorous Cordage that binds all Hearts to her in Cupid's Bonds.   

FACE.  
In her Face all the Graces in her mind, all the Virtues are met.  
He that views her mild Aspect, were he the most savage of all Creatures, he would derive a new nature from her Beauty.  
So full is she of Majesty, that Aurora blushes to see a Countenance brighter than her own.  
beauty's Elysium; Perfection's Magazine, where Roses with unsullied Lilies mix.  
A Face above the flattery of Rhetoric or Glass.  
Her Looks have more entertainment than all the vain pomp which the Persians ever taught the World.   

FOREHEAD.  
The stately Fort from whence the winged Archer discharges his Artillery.  
A clear Promontory, where sweet Violets grow.  
A stately Prospect, showing like a fair Castle commanding some goodly Country.   

EYES.  
Her Eyes dart lightning through the Air.  
The Stars borrow new Luster from her more radiant Eyes.  
They are able to grace the Heavens, and beautify the Sky in the clearest Night.  
They are Nature's richest Diamonds set in foils of polished Ivory.   

SMILES.  
Her Smiles are so graceful, and full of comfort, ●hat with them she is able to revive a dying Lover.   

EARS.  
Her Ears are watchful Sentinels, that let no words ●f weight pass unregarded.   

CHEEKS.  
Her Cheeks show like Lilies spread upon Roses.  
Nature painted the Colour thereof in the most glorious Tulips. They are Slips of Paradise, not to be ●ather'd, but wondered at.   

NOSE.  
Her Nose is straight, and of a stately frame.  
The comely Ornament of a most exquisite Face.   

LIPS.  
Her Lips are like the full-ripe Cherry.  
Cupid drinks Nectar from her Rosy Portals.  
They are Sister Corals, that kiss each other.  
Lands where Rocks of Rubies grow.  
Love's Ruby Altars still they show.   

TEETH.  
Her Teeth are ranks of Orient Pearl.  
The double pearlie guard of Speech.   

TONGVE.  
Her Tongue is tipped with such a fire, and so powerful, as might tame the most rebellious spirit.  
A Tongue able to captivate the Hearers, and reconcile Antipathy itself.   

BREATH.  
Her Breath is airy Amber.  
A Breath that perfumes the Air with Elysian Sweets.   

Voice.  
Her Voice is so charming, that it has power to do more than ever Orpheus did.  
Should Magicians use it, it would tie up the Nocturnal Ghosts, without the addition of Exorcism.  
Her Words invade the weakened senses, and overcome the heart.   

BROW.  
Her Brow is Cupid's Bow, most sweetly bend to shoot his Darts against every heart.   

CHIN.  
Her Chin shows like a piece of pure and polished Crystal, which the God of Love delights to uphold with his soft hand.   

NECK.  
Her Neck is of such a whiteness, as exceeds unsullied Snow.  
A silver Pillar of rare Whiteness.  
Far whiter than the Swans that swim upon Meander's Crystal streams.   

SHOULDERS.  
Her Shoulders are the rare composure where Neck and Breast their native closure take.   

ARMS.  
Her Arms were made to take the great Men of the World her Prisoners.   

HANDS.  
Her Hands soft and smooth, of which the Violet veins run along like Mines of Turquoises.  
Her slender Hand subdues without a stroke.  
The Swans Down is harsh in respect of her soft Hand.   

BREASTS.  
Her Breasts are two Mountains of pure Snow, from the Fountains of which Cupid sucks Nectar.  
Her Breasts are Love's delicious Paradise, the Lily Mountains, where dwells Eternal Spring.  
Her Breasts those Twins of Miracle.   

WAST.  
Her Waft as straight as Cupi●'s Shaft, or Mercury's Wand.   

NAVEL.  
Her Navel is Love's Hesperides.  
The Seal of Love's Impression.   

WOMB.  
Her Womb is Nature's secret Cabinet, and Garden of delight.  
Briefly she comprehends whatever can be wished for, in the Idea of a Woman.  
She is so heavenly a piece, that when Nature had wrought her, she lost her Needle, like one that never hoped to work again any so fair and lovely a Creature as my Mistress.    

Closing Addresses of Courtship.  
Madam, should I attempt to draw your Picture without the help of the famed Apelles, I should be non-plussed in the attempt.  
Madam, at the same time that I beheld your exquisite beauty, I became a Proselyte to your high Perfections, and should think myself happy under the benign reflections of your lovely Countenance.  
Madam, the least service upon your score I term the highest attainment imaginable: Your Love is an honour, your favour the greatest advancement, and I am transported to be numbered among your little favourites.  
Madam, you are the very Abstract of Beauty; for all those Excellencies that are singly in others, are concentered in you. 
And with your Beauty, Wit and Art conjoin,  
To make you perfect, and seem all Divine,  
That Mankind may pay Homage at your Shrine.     

THE New Canting Academy: OR, The Mystery of Wheedling and Canting displayed to the Life.  
Illustrated with Poems, Songs, and an Explanation of Canting Words.  

The Introduction; or, Wheedling, etc. made manifest.  
Since Wheedling and Canting may be justly termed brethren, I do not think it any-ways amiss to join them together in his Third Part of my Academy; not for the desire I have that any should learn them, in order to Practice; but rather that knowing them, and to what wickedness they tend, all that love their own Repose may shun and avoid the evil courses they tend to: Nor is Ignorance the least cause so many plunge themselves into Wickedness: for could Sin be truly discovered in its deformity, as it is really sin, it would look so monstrous, that the terror of its visage would affright those that court i● from its foul Embraces; nor is it less observable, that those who are least skilled in the Nature of poisons, are most frequently destroyed by Intoxication, especially where it is in their power to meet unwittingly with the mortal bane. The Devil too guilds over his Allurements and Temptations with a seeming good, on purpose that the Ignorant may take them for what they really are not, and so unadvisedly infect their Souls; from which we may conclude, that to know the failures and vices of others as they are really so, and properly delivered in their proper shapes and defects, is the proper way to grow in hatred with them, and avoid them: And therefore to leave however. those without excuse that read this part of my Book, I proceed to treat of Wheedlers, Canters, Strolers, and the like, with the practice of their Lives, and manner of living; which Relation, in itself, is very pleasant, and may serve as a caution to the unwary.   

Wheedling; what it is, and bow M●●iged.  
THE word Wheedle cannot be found to derive itself from any other, and therefore is looked upon as wholly invented by the Canters; but according, as in the sense of it is managed, it signifies a subtle insinuation into the Humours, inclinations, Natures and Capacity of any person the Wheedler intends to circumvent or make his prey; working so effectually, that he possesses them with a belief, that all his actions and services are bend, and tend to their advantage, profit and pleasure, and is indeed a kind of flattery, which joins with self-conceit, and the good opinion we have of ourselves, easily admits of the most favourable interpretation, since every one is naturally inclined to a self-love, and thinks his own Abilities in understanding sufficient, if not the best; it being very. observable, that although Men quarrel and contend about Riches and Preferment, one envying another as to those particulars, none on the contrary contend who has the most wit, or at least grudge not at another's, but conceit their own stock is sufficient.  
In this they hold, that Providence is just,  
And is for Wit, though nothing else they'll trust.  
The Wheedlers' business is much in trimming the Sails of Flattery, and forming his Speeches and Actions to the humour and constitution of the person he undertakes, imitating those of whom Juvinal the Satirist makes mention, viz. These men, says he, will conform themselves to all sorts of company; if you laugh, they will strive to laugh louder; if you are pensive and sad, or prone to weep, they, like Crockadiles, will force feigned tears; if you complain of cold, they shiver as in the extremity of a Tertian fit; and if you complain of heat, even in the extremity of December, they shall puff and pant as if they were in a manner melted.  
Thus they on Flattery build foundations bad,  
And only in the empty Air they trade;  
Selling of Wind for things to support Life,  
And tickle Culleys in their folly rife.   

The Qualification of the Wheedler; and by what methods and ways be works by Insinuation upon the Passions and Minds of Men, and the Rules he observes therein.  
HE or she that sets up for a thriving Wheedler, must be no Novice; for if so, there is no apt qualification for this Science, as they term it, but must first be accommodated with a winning behaviour, a fluent tongue, weighty expressions, that can be so cunningly couched, as to make bad seem good, and good bad, to the eyes and understanding of the ignorant; knowing how to time his Management to keep it always in season; a good stock of Confidence is likewise required, and a countenance not subject to a blush; a Man he must be of infinite Jesting, that when he trips, or gins to be discovered in some palpable flattery or dissimulation, he may turn it off, so as either to put a different construction on the meaning of his words, or change his true meaning into Jest or Ridicule; he must be furnished moreover with much patience, to bear, without seeming any way offended, the impertinence of every Coxcomb or nauseous Fop; and observe his humours, that he may not be found wanting to tickle the Trout by a seeming applause and compliance.  
The next thing he then considers and contemplates is the Passions of the Mind, and to what they stand most inclined and affected; and this he at first gathers, especially a hint of'em by the complexion, habit and constitution of the Body, the Complexion attributing to the sanguine; a merry jocund humour, much given to Love and Recreation: To the Melancholy, a morose temperature of mind, given to ease of body, yet much disturbed at times in mind, and prompted, by envy, to undertake malicious erterprises: To the Phlegmatic he attributes Inconstancy, Sloth, Intemperance, etc. And to the Choleric, rashness, and a contentious disposition, subject to strife, and desire of revenge; and suitable to these he lays the line and plumet of his Flattery or Insinuation, and humours them to his own advantage in their several degrees; and, for the most part, they attaque those of the weakest capacities, with whom they are sure they can be credited, as a cunning Jilt of the Town is made to express herself, viz.  
You smile to see me, whom the World perchance,  
Mistakes to have some Wit so far advance,  
The Interest of tame fools, that I approve  
Their Merit more than Men's of Wit in Love:  
But in our Sex too many proofs there are,  
Of those undone by Wits, whom Fools repair.  
This in my time was so observed, a Rule,  
Hardly a Wench in Town but had her Fool;  
The meanest common Slut, who long was grown  
The jest and scorn of every acquaint Buffoon;  
Had yet left Charms enough to have subdued  
Some Fop or other, fond to be thought lewd.  
Nor is this Art of Wheedling altogether unnecessary, seeing it carries with it somewhat more than Wealth, for by a secret and powerful charm it calms ●age, disarms the threatening hand of the revengeful, ●oves compassion in the hardhearted, and many times ●eliver a Man out of the snare. This and much more ● effects by a feigned and flattering submission, and retending an untainted and entire friendship; where●● if there be no downright Enmity, yet there is no other than the shadow, or outward appearance of a respect for the person, to engage him either to lay aside his present danger, or persuade and oblige him to some kindness extraordinary. But thus much for this part of Whedling, too much practised in this Age.   

Cant; what it is, and by whom it is used; with the Ends to which it serves, etc.  
Cant is found to be the peculiar Language of no Nation; nor is there any Rule prescribed for the learning or understanding of it, further than from those who use it to colour over their Villainies; and they are such, for the most part, that call themselves Egyptians, but are no other than stroaling Beggars, Vagrants or Wanderers, the foundation of which Gibberish was laid on one Rugosa a sturdy Wanderer, who first prescribed Rules and Orders for the Wandering Tribe, and became their Head or Superior, but long enjoyed not his Ragged Dignity, before he fell sick of a filching , for which the Doctor of the Tripple-tree, applied the powerful Cordial of Hemp to his Jugular Vein, so that the strength of the Application not being allayed in time, cast him into a dead sleep, and for ever after spoiled his drinking at the Bouzing-keen.  
Those that profess this Cant, as I said, pretending to be Egyptians, hold the people in hand, especially those that are so foolish to believe them, that they sucked in the knowledge of the Stars with their Mother's Milk, and are conversant with the decrees of Fate, being the only Kindred of the Destinies, from whom they hid nothing; nay, have so large a stock of Impudence to pretend to divine Magic, when indeed they are no other than a parcel of ignorant, lazy, illiterate persons, who take up this kind of life for the sake of ease; yet so much are they feared, as going in great companies by the Country people, that they are in a manner forced to give them what they in reason demand, lest they should fire their Houses, or, as they fond deem, bewitch their , when indeed the latter is altogether out ●● their power; and the greatest fear that need any way concern them, is their robbing them of their Pigs, Lambs, Poultry, Linen, etc. for which they have divers Canting Names or Terms; of which I shall speak hereafter.  
The Canters have their several Offices or Degrees amongst them, the Officiators of them being observed and regarded by those that subject themselves as their Inferiors, with great exactness and respect, and are distinguished, or go under these denominations, viz. The Upright Man, who being chosen for his strength, archness and policy in bringing them off at a dead lift, is styled their Chief whom all the rest obey, and amongst them his Will is a law, during life, unless he be deposed in a General Assembly, or Meeting, which is held twice a year in great state in places pre-appointed, and most commonly in the Suburbs of London, and that for some extraordinary design, as for the subversion of their beggarly Commonwealth, etc. and whilst he stands in siatu quo, all the Morts, Dells and Doxies, or Women of the several Degrees and Orders amongst them are at his command; as likewise the best of whatever they filch or M●und, that is, steal or beg.  
The Abram-Cove, or Abraham-Man, is one that dresses himself ridiculously, and pretends at sundry times to be Mad, and in Fits, when indeed he does it to draw people about him to procure the advantage of the rest, either in telling Fortunes, or giving them the opportunity of picking the Pockets of the Gazers.  
The Jack-man is their Secretary, who having some small abilities in Learning, especially in Writing and Counterfeiting of hands, makes it his business to write their false Passes, false Gertificates and Maunding. Letters, and is in great esteem amongst them.  
The Dummerers are such as make a horrible noise, attended with many Antic postures, and frequently signify, not only by signs, which to every one are not intelligible, but by a forged writing, that their Tongues were cut out in the Turkish Slavery for Reviling the Prophet Mahomet, or refusing to comply with his damnable doctrine; and to that end, and the better to deceive the easy Spectators, and move them to compassion, they roll back their Tongues, and show, as it were, only the root; but if you require to search their Mouth, they will pretend not to understand your meaning, and with much clamour refuse it.  
The Patrico is he that couples them together; the only ceremony in that kind consists in placing them with joined hands over the carcase of any dead creature, and bidding them live together till death parts 'em.  
The Whipjacks are such as pretend themselves to be Mariners, that have been cast away, and shipwrecked either on the Coast, or in some Foreign Land; and have nothing to support them in their Travelling to their habitation; and the better to colour it, pretend a Pass, though it is altogether forged, and they know no more of the Sea than a tame Goose.  
The Fraters are such as forge brief or counterfeit Patents, pretending to beg for decayed Hospitals, Losses by Fire, and the like; but have been so often detected and punished, that scarce any thing but the Name remains at this day; for it being a public fraud, it is more narrowly pried into than those that are personal or private.  
The Palliards, or Clapperdogeons, are those that have been brought up to beg from their Infancy, and frequently counterfeit Lameness, making their Legs, Arms or Hands appear to be sore and very nauseous, with Cream and Blood, Butter and Soap, Ointments and Corrosives, and sometimes by putting on counterfeit lame Legs, and false withered Arms, making of horrible wry faces, and setting off their story of being shot, burnt, scalded, perished with the Evil, and the like, with a lamentable voice, and for the most part they carry Children about with them, which they frequently hire of poor Nurses for so much the week, the better to move compassion: but if you strictly inquire into their lameness, you will find it nothing but a counterfeit of their own devising; and their Sores so slight, that in a day or two they would cure of themselves, did they not continually apply Corrosives.  
The Glimmerers are such as go up and down a Maunding under pretence they have been undone by Fire, and for the most part have a forged Certificate with many Names, insinuated to be those of the Minister, Justice and Churchwardens of some remote Parish, pretending great Losses, when indeed their whole life has been given up to the begging trade.  
The Mumper is the general Beggar, Male and Female, which lie in cross-ways, or travel too and fro, carrying for the most part Children with them, which generally are By-blows, and delivered to them with a sum of Money, almost as soon as born.  
As for the Women that attend these stroaling Gypsies and Beggars, those that are Married after their fashion are called Autme-Morts; the Dells are young Wenches, that yet retain their Maidenheads, which by their custom they must sacrifice to the Upright Man, before they can be free with the Brotherhood:  
The Dexies are such as are prostituted to any, and are no other than Common Whores of the kind amongst the Brotherhood, and consequently to any person if advantage offers, and for the most part have the Art of Diving into the Pockets of such Cullies as they ensnare.  
The Stroaling Morts are such as pretend to be Parson's Widows, or to be born Gentlewomen, and by Marrying against the consent of their Parents, by Losses and Sickness are utterly ruined and undone; telling a lamentable story to stir up the minds of the hearers to compassionate their sufferings.  
The Bawdy-Baskets are such as wander up and down with a Basket under their Arm, and a Child at their Backs, pretending to sell Toys and Trifles, and so beg or steal as they see occasion, or find opportunity.  
The Kinchin-Morts are the little Girls that run in the hand of these Gypsies and Beggars, or are carried at their Backs in Blankets.  
And these are the chief of the Gang, who from their head rendezvous set out twice a year, rnd scatter all over England, each parcel having their appointed Stages, that they may not interfere or hinder each other; and for that purpose, when they set forward in the Country, they stick up Boughs in the way of divers kinds, according as it is agreed amongst them, that one company may know which way another is gone, and so take a different Road.  
And so, like a Disease, they swiftly spread,  
As Locusts mustered in black Clouds were lead,  
When Egypt felt, the Plagues for Pharaoh's sin,  
And Mourned the Ruin that it ushered in.   

In what manner a new Comer is received into the Gang of Gypsies and Wandering Beggars, with the Ceremonies that are observed, and other things.  
When any idle person enters himself into the settled Gang of these Varlets, he is not admitted without ceremony. And, first, being introduced by one of the Gang, the Upright Man demands his name, which known, he enjoins him from that time to renounce it, and to take upon him one familiar to the Canting strain, not understood by the vulgar: This done, and Registered, his Charge is given him, That he shall be true in all things to the Fraternity, and obey, to the utmost of his power, the Great Tawny Prince, or, as they style him, the King of the Gypsies or Stroalers, and keep his counsel; That he take his part against all that shall oppose him, or any of the Brotherhood, according to the utmost of his ability, not suffering them to be abused by any strange Palli●ds, Ruffers, hooker's, Swadlers, Irish Toils, Dummerers, ●arkmen, Whip-jacks, Glimmerers, Maunders, or the like, 〈◊〉 any other Outlyers; That he reserve to the pub●ck stock the overplus of his get; That he will ●ever leave or forsake the company of which he is ●atered a Member, nor teach any, upon what account ●ever, the usual Cant proper amongst them, neither 〈◊〉 favour nor fear; And, lastly, that he will stick ●se to his Doxy or Rum Mort; and then a young ●ench is delivered to him as his Mate and Compa●●on. by the Patrico, if there be one grown up; if not, 〈◊〉 must stay till there is, and be content now and ●●en to be supplied for recreations sake by the Doxies, ●●o are common amongst them.  
The Adoption being over, the Scouts are commanded abroad to see if the coast be clear; and if so, upon the signal the Foragers go out, and fetch in Cackling Cheats, Grunting Cheats, Margery Praters, Red Shanks, & c. That is, Chickens, Pigs, Hens and Ducks, some at the same time breaking the Ruffman's Hedges, that is, for firing; nor does Tib of the Buttery, that is, the Geese escape them, whilst the Whip-jack, as the most competent Judge, is employed to fetch Rumbooze or strong Drink from the next Village with ready money out of the Public stock; and if no blind Alehouse out of the Town or Road be near, where they use for privateness sake, to rendezvous, than they make the fire under a warm Hedge, or in a Gravel-pit, where the Morts are their Cooks; but so sluttish in their dressing, that a stranger must be wonderfully sharp set that can find in his heart to participate of their banquet: And here the old Proverb is truly verified, viz. That the Devit sends Cooks; yet those that are used to it feed like Farmers, and account it more dainty than any other.   

The Reasons that induce Stroalers, etc. to take up that kind of life; and by what means they cheat and deceive the Ignorant, under pretence of telling Fortunes.  
SOme may inquire why they delight in this kind of life: To which I answer, that Laziness is the great motive that induces them to it; though, on the other hand, their gain is very considerable, though unlawfully gotten for swarming up and down the Countries, they delude the young Wenches that are Ma● for Husbands, by possessing them they are the Children of the Wise men, and have familiar conversation with the Stars, which demonstrate to them future events; nay, many times they have their Scout or Intelligencer in the Towns or Villages through which they are to pass, who against their arrival inquire out many things by Wheedle or Insinuation; as what things have been lost; who is sick; who about to be Married; or who crossed in Love, and give notice thereof privately to the Gypsies, who apply themselves to these places with such protestations of discovery, and telling none but the truth, that they get to be believed by repeating what has been told them, with some addition; and that they may seem to conjure, they cross themselves; and turning up the Whites of their Eyes, Mutter in an odd manner their Gibberish: and when they are once found to be in a truth, the Rumour of it decoys many to their Lure; and they always having in their gang some one dexterous at diving, or picking of Pockets; they seldom fail to do it whilst one of the Crew is pouring on the hand of some silly wench or fellow, under a pretence of Fortune-telling; nay their Children of five or six years old upon the signal will do it, which in their Gibberish is Kinchin-Cloy the Lower: which being insensibly performed, occasioned the foolish report, That if they had one piece of Money given them, they had the Art of commanding the rest; as indeed in one sense they have: Nor are they wanting if the Cove nap 'em; that is, if they are taxed with it, to make horrid Imprecations that they are innocent; yet the Whipping-post has such a powerful Spell attending it, that it many times obliges them to recant their Cant in making restitution: nay, the Children they carry at their backs are so dexterous, that they shall steal a Hatband, lose Head-cloaths or Handkerchief over her shoulder that carries 'em, whilst she is pretending to tell a Fortune, etc. Nor are those Children, for the most part, any of their own; but when any young Gentlewoman or Servant-Maid has trod awry, and her Reputation and the Father's are to be spared, then by the advice of the Midwife or Nurse, the Child with a sum of Money, as they can agree, is taken by them; so that these Children but rarely know their true Parents.  
Having thus far spoken of the Wandering Tribe, who are no other than English Beggars, Thiefs and Vagabonds, that discolour their Faces, Necks and Hands with Bacon-grease and Soot in the Winter, and with the green Shells, or Husks of Walnuts in the Summer. I shall now proceed to give you an account of their Cant, and what they mean by it in English.   

The Gypsies and Beggars CANT; Comprehending all the Material words used by them, upon sundry occasions; as likewise their Explanation.  
Enlglish. Cant. A Handsome Wench RVm Mort An Apron Belly-cheat A part or share Snack or Earnest A Break-house Betty A hole Ferm A Gentlewoman Gentry-Mort A Receiver of stolen Goods Fencing-Cully A Groat Flag A Door Giger A Pass Gibe A Guiny, or Job Huskin lour A Child Kinchin A Little man Kinchin-cove A private house Libben An Alehouse Boozing-ken The Gallows Nubbing cheat  Lurries Thiefs Priggs Meat or Provision Perk or Peckidge Lace Peake A stout Rogue Rougher An Arm Smiter Andirons Glimfenders To agree with a man Famgrasp the Cove Angry Glim flushly A Barboy Squeker A Beadle Flogging Cove Butter Beaver Bridewell Naskin Born a beggar Clapperdogeon A Boghouse Croping ken A Bed Libbedge Bread Panam Beggars Mawnders To beg Maund A Bottle Boozing-cheat Be careful of what you say Stow the Whidds, and plant 'em A Bridle Nabgarder Shackles Cramprings A Body Quarron Cunning Queer Bacon Ruff peck Broker Fencing-Cully Bastard Stalewhimper Belated Hoodwinked Blind men Gropers A Barn Skiper A Bar Touting ken Be cauteous Stow the Whids Broker's shop Stallen ken Beaten Chafed A Breast Heaver A Cheat Napper A Coach Rattler A Chamber-pot Facum gag A Constable Harmanback Coach-beggars Rattling Mumpers A Cloak-bag Roger A Candlestick Glimstick Fire Glimmer Cut the Cloak-bag Flick the Roger Corn Grannam A cluster of Grapes Rum-boozing welts A Crust Crackler A crafty fellow Chincher A Crutch Lifter A Church Autem To cheat By't A Cow Mower A Coat Mish-topper Counterfeit Confeck A Coachman Smacking-Cove To copulate Wap Cheese Cash A Cloak Togeman The Country Deuseavise Carriers Deuseavise Stampers Choked Frummagemed Chickens Cackling Cheats A Dog Bugher A Drawer of Wine Rum-hooper Day, or  Lightmen Duck Quaking-cheat Drunk Nazzy A Drunkard Nazzy Cove Drowsy Peeping Drink Booze To enter a House Dup Eyes Ogles or Glaziers Ends of Gold and Silver Spangles Dumb Cank Ditch Jague A Drover Mow-beater The Devil Ruffin Dry or Thirsty Chapped A Dish Skew Fellows that Spirit people Kidnappers The Face Muns A Fool or Coxcomb Nizie Fearful Peery To fly or run away Brush off One that may easily be overreached Cully ●eet Stampere Gold Mint Goal Naskin Goldsmith Ridgcully Gallant Rum Garden or Nosegay Smelling cheat To go up Stairs Track up the Dancer's Glass broken Flicher snapped A Highway Topping Cove A Highwayman Rum pad A Horse-stea●er Prancer A Horse Rum padder A Head Nab A Hat Nab-cheat A halfpenny Make A House Ken Hands Fambles Hose Drawers Hostess Supouch Heart Panter Host Busler To Engage Blot the Scrip King of the Link-boys Rum Glimmer Linkboy Moon-curser or Glym-jack Legs Stampers Licence Jacrum Look through the Casement Tout through the Wicker Lips Gans Lie Coker Mass Solomon Malard or Duck Red-shank or Quaking-cheat A Looking-glass Peeper London Rum Ville Milk-porridge Papler Money Lower A Married Woman Autem Mort A Man Cove A Nose Gigg Newgate Whilt A Neck Nub Night or Evening Darkman Pottage Lapet Pork Grunting cheat Pease Trundlers' Partners to Files Shoulder-shams A piece of old Gold Old Mr. Gory A Portmantle Peter Any Prison Queer-ken A Peny Win A Pot or Pipe Gag A Picklock Gilt The Plague Cannakin Pretty Dimber The Pox Bube A poor Man Abrabam Cove A Purse Bung To cut a Purse. Nip the Bung To speak cunningly Stow the Whids To give good words. Cut been Whids A Villain Damber Rings or Gloves. Famble Cheats A Rick Fool. Rum Culley Riching Prigging. Riders Priggers. A Shilling Board or Hog Sheep Blating Cheats. To steal a Portmantle. By't the Roger A Shirt Mish To speak Cut Stockings Drawers Stocks Harmans' Sucking-picks Grunting Cheat Silver Witcher Sixpence Half a Hog Silver Bowl Witcher Cully, Straw, Sheets, Shoes Stummel slates, Stamps A Shop Swag Sought for with a Warrant Romboyled A Sheep stealer Napper of Napes A Seal Jark Teeth Crushing Cheats. To lie down Couch To go to sleep Couch a Hogshead To speak ill Cut Queer robids To be whipped Cly the Jerk To Rob a House Heave a Booth Tobacco Fogus To take Tobacco Raise a Cloud To Beat Fib To spend or lay out Fence. To tumble together Lib The Sessions-house Nubbing-ken. A Turkey Cobble colter To he transported Marinated To run away Pike off To look out Tour To hang Trine The Tongue Prating Cheat To wear Scour  
Thus Reader, having given you a Light into this new created Language which was never known to our Forefathers nor heard of at the Confusion of Babel, I shall proceed to divert you with some pleasant Songs in the same Lingua; yet that I may not leave you in the dark as to the understanding of them I, shall render them likewise into English.   

Canting SONGS; the best sort in Cant and English.  

The Advice, etc. A Song in Cant.  

(1.)  
B'ing out been Morts, and tour end tour,  
B'ing out been Morts and tour,  
For all your duds are binged awast,  
The been Cove tips the lour.   

(2.)  
I met a Dell, I viewed her well,  
She was beenship to may watch;  
So she and I did stall and cloy,  
Whatever we could catch.   

(3.)  
This Doxy del can cut been whids,  
And wap well for a win,  
And prig and cloy so beenishly,  
All the Deuseavile within.   

(4.)  
The boil was up, we had good luck,  
As well in frost as now;  
When they did seek, than we did creep,  
And plant in Ruffmen row.   

(5.)  
To stroling Ken the Mort bings then,  
To fetch lour for her cheats;  
Duds and Ruffpecks romboiled by Harmanbecks,  
And won by Maunders feats.   

(6.)  
You Maunders all, stow what you stall,  
To Rum-coves thats so choir,  
And wapping Dell, that niggles well,  
And takes lour for her hire.   

(7.)  
And Jybe well jerked, tick room confeck,  
For back by Glimmar to maund,  
To mill each Ken, let Cove b'ing then,  
Though Ruffmen Jauge or Land.   

(8.)  
Till Cramprings choir tip Cove his hire,  
And Choir Ken do them catch,  
A Canniken will choir Cuffin,  
So choir to been Coves watch.   

(9)  
Benn Darkmans then booz Mort and Ken,  
And been Coves b'ing awast,  
On Chatte's to trine by Rum-Coves dine,  
For his long Lib at last.   

(10.)  
B'ing out been Morts and tour,  
B'ing our of the Rome vile fine,  
And tour the Cove that cloyed your Duds  
Upon the Chats to trine.   
Now if any person should hear one of these fellows sing this song, with the Gestures they use at the time, he would conclude him no better than a Madman, though the English, or meaning of it, will make it out more plain and pleasant.   

The same song in English.  

(1.)  
GO forth brave Girls, look out, look out,  
Look out, I say, good-Maids,  
For all your Gloaths are stolen I doubt,  
And shared amongst the Blades.   

(2.)  
I met a Lass, I liked her well,  
With whom I used to dally;  
What Goods we stole, we straight did sell,  
And then abroad did sally.   

(3.)  
This Bouncing Trull can finely talk,  
She will do for a penny;  
Through every Town which she does walk,  
Fails not to steal from any.   

(4.)  
The house being raised, aside we stepped,  
And through the Mire did wade;  
The Hue and Cry to shun we crept,  
In Hedges where we laid.   

(5.)  
To the Brokers then my Hedgbird flies,  
For Goods she brings good coin;  
Which though the Constable after us hies,  
Our tricks us away purloin.   

(6.)  
You Maunding Rogues, beware how you  
Do steal, for search is made;  
And let each Jade look to it too,  
Who will not do till paid.   

(7.)  
〈◊〉 Licence got with forged seal,  
To beg, as if undone  
〈◊〉 Fire, to break each House and steal,  
O'er hedge and ditch to run.   

(8.)  
●ill Shackles sound pay us home,  
And to the Goal compel us;  
●ut may some mischief to 'em come,  
Who'd cruel to good fellows.   

(9)  
Sweet Wench, Alehouse and Beer good night,  
The Joval Rogue's departed;  
To hanging by the Justice spite,  
To his long home he's Carted.   

(10.)  
Away, sweet Ducks, with greedy Eyes,  
From London walk up Holborn,  
Pursue him stole your ; he flies  
With Hempen wings to Tyburn.    

The King of the Gypsies Song, made upon his Beloved Doxy or Mistress.  

(1.)  
DOxy oh! Thy Glaziers shine  
As Glymmar by the Solomon;  
No Gentry Mort hath parts like thine,  
No Cove e'er waped with such a one.   

(2.)  
White thy Fambles, red they 'Gan,  
And they Quarrons dainty is;  
Couch a Hogshead with me then,  
And in the Darkmans clip and kiss.   

(3.)  
What though I no Togeman wear,  
Nor Commission, Mish, or slate;  
Store of Strummel we'll have here,  
And i'th' Skipper lib in state.   

(4.)  
Wapping thou I know does love,  
Else the Ruffian cly the Mort;  
From thy Stampers then remove  
Thy Drawers, and let's prig in sport.   

(5.)  
When the Lightmen up does call  
Margery Prater from her nest,  
And her Cackling cheats withal,  
In a Boozing-Ken we'll feast.   

(6.)  
There if Lour we want I'll mill  
A Gage, or nip for thee a bung;  
Rumbooz thou shalt booze thy fill,  
And crash a Grunting cheat that's young.    

The Sense in English thus.  

(1.)  
MY Boney Lass, by th' Mass I swear,  
Thine Eyes do shine then fire more clear;  
No silken Girl has Thighs like thine,  
No Do more buxom is than mine.   

(2.)  
Thy hand is white and red thy lip,  
Thy dainty Body I will clip:  
Let's down to sleep ourselves then lay,  
Hug in the dark, and kiss and play.   

(3.)  
What though I no Cloak do wear,  
And neither Shirt nor Sheet do bear,  
Yet Straw we'll have enough that's sweet,  
And tumble when i'th' Barn we meet.   

(4.)  
What they Grandam loved dost thou,  
Or else you are not kind I vow;  
Off then with they Stockings and Shoes,  
And let us do what others use.   

(5.)  
When the Morning up shall call  
From her Nest, the Hen and all  
Her tender Broodlings thou and I  
Will take, and to the Alehouse fly.   

(6.)  
If we can our Reckoning pay,  
Something I will steal away:  
Drink off they Liquor than thy fill,  
Some sucking Pig for thee I'll kill.   

(7,)  
Therefore to London let us hie,  
Thou hast a sweet bewitching Eye;  
There we'll rob and kiss Pellmell,  
Escaping Tyburn all is well.    

The Rum Mort's Song in Praise of her Maunder who had forsaken her.  

(1.)  
NOW my Kinchin-Cove is gone,  
By the Rum-pad maundeth none,  
In quarrons both for stump and bone  
Like my Clapperdogeon.   

(2.)  
Dimber damber far thee well,  
Palliards all thou didst excel,  
And thy Jockum bore the Bell,  
Glymmer on it never fell.   

(3.)  
Thou the Cramprings ne'er didst scour  
Harmans' had on thee no power,  
Harmanbecks did never tower  
For thee, the Drawers still had louvre.   

(4.)  
Duds and Cheats thou oft haft won  
Yet the Cuffin-quire couldst shun  
And the Deausavile didst run,  
Else the Chates had thee undone.   

(5.)  
Cank and Dommerar thou couldst play,  
Or Rnm-Maunder in one day,  
And like an Abram-Cove couldst pray  
Yet pass with Gybes well jerked away.   

(6.)  
When the Darkmans have been wet  
Thou the Crackmans' down didst beat  
For Glymmar, whilst a Quaking cheat,  
Or Tib o'th' Buttery was our Meat.   

(7.)  
Red shanks than I could not lack,  
Ruff-peck still hung at my back,  
Grannam ever filled my sack,  
With lap and poplars held I tack.   

(8.)  
To thy Bughar and thy Skew,  
Filch and Gybes I bid adieu,  
Though thy Togeman was not new,  
In it the Rogue to me was true.    

The Sense in English thus.  

(1.)  
NOW my little Rogue is gone,  
By the Highway maundeth none,  
In body both for strength and bone,  
Like my Clapperdogeon.   

(2.)  
Pretty Rascal far thee well,  
Born beggars all thou dost excel,  
Thy Sweep-stakes still shall bear the Bell,  
No Fireship yet aboard it fell.   

Blots my Bully ne'er did wear,  
Never thou the Stocks didst sear;  
For thee no Constable did care,  
For thou hadst Money and to spare.   

(4.)  
 by stealth thou oft hast got;  
Yet the Justice took thee not,  
But through the Country thou didst troth,  
The Gallows else had been thy lot.   

(5.)  
Dumb and Madman thou couldst play,  
Or a driv'ling Fool too all the day,  
And like a poor Man thou couldst pray,  
Yet with false Passes scape away.   

(6.)  
When the Evening hath been wet,  
For Fire the Hedges down didst beat;  
Me then with stolen Duck didst treat,  
Or else a fat Goose was our Meat.   

(7.)  
Mallard; then I could not lack,  
Bacon hung always at my back,  
Nor was Corn wanting in Sack,  
With good Milk-pottage I held tack.   

(8.)  
To thy Dog and Dish adien,  
Thy Staff and Pass I ne'er must view,  
Though thy Cloak was far from new,  
In it my Rogue to me was true.   
Besides these stroling Beggars and pretended egyptians, there are others that use the like Cant, who are most of the Town Thiefs, or such as harbour about London; and are distinguished by several Canting Names or Titles, viz.  
The High-Pad or High-way-man. The Low Pad or Foot Robber. The Budge, who makes it his business to run into Houses and take what comes first to hand The Diver or Pickpocket. The Bulk, or one that is his assistant in creating Quarrels by Jostling, etc. to gather a Crowd that the Diver may have the better Opportunity to effect his purpose. The Gil: is one that pretending Business in a Tavern or Alehouse, takes a private Room, and with Picklocks opens the Trunks or Chests and taking what he can conveniently, locks them again, pays his Reckoning and departs. The Prigger of Prancers is one that makes it his business to steal Horses. The Ken-Miller is one that Robs Houses in the nighttime, by breaking them open or getting in at the Window, and seldom goes alone. The File is the same with the Dvier, though for the most part he goes without the Bulk, and was formerly known by the Title of the Bung-nipper, because with a Horn Thumb and a Sharp Knife he used to cut the Pockets clever off, with all that was in them. The Bubber is one that goes to Alehouses to drink on purpose tosteal Tankards. The Shoplifts are commonly Women who go into shops under pretence of Buying, and seeming very difficult to be pleased, find an Opportunity to slip some Garment, piece of Silk or stnff. etc. into their Coat, Bag, or other private conveyance, with which they are seldom unfurnished, The Angler is one that takes a Quare of Glass out of a Casement, and so opening it, with a long Pole and Hook at the end on't, pulls to him him what he can conveniently reach without entering the House. But enough of these Varlets, that like the Egyptian Locust pester the Nation, there being no Remedy effectual to put an end to their Rogueries but the Gallows; wherefore not to trouble the Reader with a story of their many Villainies, and by what means they achieve them, all of them being witty and ingenious in Mischief, I shall conclude this discourse with a Song very suitable to the purpose.    

The Black Profession: A Song.  

Good people give ear whilst a Story I tell,  
Of 20 black Tradesmen who were brought up in Hell,  
On purpose poor People to Rob of their due,  
There's none shall be noosed if you find but one true.  
The first was a Coiner that stamped in a Mould,  
The second a Voucher to put off his Cold:  
Mark you well, Hark you well,  
See where they're rubbed  
Up to the Nubbing-Cheat, and there they're nubbed.  
The third was a Padder that fell to decay,  
And when he was living took to the Highway.  
The fourth is a Mill-ken to crack up a door,  
He'll venture to Rob both the Rich and the Poor.  
The fifth is a Glazier who when he creeps in,  
To pinch all the Lurry he thinks it no Sin:  
Mark you well, etc.  
The fifth is File-cloy that not one Hick spares.  
The seventh is a Budge to trip up the Stairs.  
The eighth is a Bulk than can Bulk any Hick,  
If the Master be napped then the Bulk he is sick.  
The ninth is a Ginny to lift up a Grate,  
If he sees but the Lurry with his hooks he will bate.  
Mark you well, etc.  
The tenth is a Shoplift, who carries a Bob,  
When she rangeth the City the Shops for to Rob.  
The eleventh is a Bubber, much used of late,  
he goes to an Alehouse and steals thence the Plate.  
The twelfth a Trappann, if a Cully he does meet,  
He nips all his Lour and turns him i'th'street:  
Mark you well, etc.  
The thirteenth a Fambler false Rings for to sell,  
When a Mob he has bit his Coal he will tell.  
The fourteenth a Gamester if he sees the Hick sweet,  
He presently drops done a Cog in the street.  
The fifteenth's a Prancer whose courage is small,  
If they catch him Horse-stealing he's noozed for all:  
Mark you well, etc.  
The Sixteenth a Sheep-napper whose Trade is so deep,  
If he's caught in the Corn he's marked for a Sheep  
The seventeenth a Dunaker that will make Vows,  
To go into the Country to steal all the Cows.  
The eighteenth a Kid-napper who Spirits young Men,  
Though he tips them the Pikes they nig him again:  
Mark you well, etc.  
The nineteenth is a Prigger of Cacklers in Storms,  
Goes into the Country to visit the Farms;  
He steals there their Poultry and thinks it no Sin  
When into the Hen-roost i'th' night he gets in.  
The twentieth a Thief-taker, so we him call,  
If he Naps a poor Tradesman he makes him pay all.  
Mark you well, etc.    

An Introduction to the modish Method of DANCING, in the Examples of several Set Dances greatly in Request, etc.  

Lady in the Dark. A Dance for Four.  
 
IN this Dance the two Couples must meet and turn off single, than the Men must cross over and the Women must do the same, then back again: And so the Men must meet and fall back, then take Arms by the Right hands and turn by the Left, the Women doing the like: then side with the contraries, and set, after this do as much with your own.  
Meet and each take the contrary and fall back with her; then must the first Couple go under the other Couples Arms, after that they must go under the others. Then each Man must meet with his Woman and fall back with her; after that go under one another's Arms forward and backward as before, and so take Arms as you sided.  
Take Right hands to the contrary and Left to your own, Remain in the contrary place and set your own, do that back again, setting to the contrary.   

The Sedany. A pleasant Dance for as many as will in this Order, .  
IN this Dance the first Man and Woman must sides once, set and turn single, then pass forward each to the next sides again, set and turn single, doing afterwards as much to the next, and so forwards and backwards till you recover the places where you bagan  
Arms all as you sided, and so till you recover your own places.  
Proceed now to the single Hey, as handing as you pass till you recover your places.   

Rose is white and Rose is red. A round Dance for as many as will,  
IN this Dance take Hands and meet all a double, back again and set and turn a Single: do it again and let the first Couple lead forward and then backward to the Man on the Right hand; then all three take Hands and go round. After this, the Women must do as much and so the Men, in order, must proceed to the next Man, and in like manner, till you recover your places, the rest following and doing the same.  
Now sides all Set and Turn single, do the like again; after that lead forwards and backwards before, so go the single Hey, all the three strains, do this Change to all, the remaining Parties following and doing the like.  
Arms all Set and Turn single, do it again, then let the first couple lead forwards and back as before; then let the Man pass under your Arms; turn your own and to all; do thus, the rest following.   

Lady lie near me. A Dance for as many as Please in Couples, Long-ways.  
IN this Dance lead up forward and backward when the Single Strain is played, and do in the like manner when the double One is played.  
Let the first Couple cross over and so fall into the second place, and then cross again and fall into the last place, and let every Couple do in the like manner.  
Sides all upon playing the first Strain, and do as much upon playing the second.  
Arms all a single, Starin played and upon the Starin, being played twice do the same again.  
Then half the single Hey on each side, Set and Turn single, then let all do this and change.  
Let the Men take Hands all and go half round, the Women doing the like; then all do the like and change.   

All in a Garden green. A Dance Long-ways for six.  
IN this Dance lead up a Double forwards and backwards, Set and Turn single, then do as much again.  
The first Man shake by the hand his own Woman, than the second so the third, by one hand & then by the other Kiss her twice and turn her: upon a single Strain playing, shake her by the hand, than the second and so your own by one hand & then by the other, Kiss her twice and turn her.  
Sides all set & turn a Single, do the like again.  
Do this as before, the Women likewise doing it.  
Arms all set and turn a Single do it again  
Do this as before, the Men doing it  
Note, That a Single is only two steps closing both fee● and a Double is four steps for ward and backward, closing both Feet; and to set and turn is a Single to one hand and as much to the other; and to turn single: and fo● these they signify the strains played once, twice, & ●    
Reader, I Take my leave, and boldly dare  
Think you'll not Censure what you well may spare.  
FINIS.