Westminster-Drollery. Or, A Choice COLLECTION Of the Newest SONGS & POEMS BOTH AT Court and theatres.  
BY A Person of Quality.  
With Additions.  
LONDON, Printed for H. Brome at the Gun in St. Paul Church Yard, near the West End. MDCLXXI.   

WESTMINSTER-DROLLERY.  

The first Song in the Ball at Court.  

1.  
I Pass all my Hours in a shady old Grove,  
And I live not the day that I see not my Love:  
I survey every Walk now my Phillis is gone,  
And sigh when I think we were there all alone.  
O then 'tis, O then I think there's no such Hell,  
Like loving, like loving to well.   

2.  
But each shade and each conscious Bower that I find,  
Where I once have been happy, and she has been kind,  
And I see the print left of her shape in the Green,  
And imagine the pleasure may yet come again,  
O then 'tis, O then I think no joys above  
The pleasures, the pleasures of love.   

3.  
While alone to myself I repeat all her charms,  
She ay love may be locked in another man's arms:  
She may laugh at my cares, and so false she may be,  
To say all the kind things she before said to me.  
O then 'tis, O then I think there's no such Hell,  
Like loving, like loving too well.   

4.  
But when I consider the truth of her heart,  
Such an innocent passion, so kind, without art,  
I fear I have wronged her, and hope she may be  
So full of true love, to be jealous of me.  
O then 'tis, O then I think no joys above  
The pleasures, the pleasures of Love.    

The second Song in the Masque at Court.  

1.  
A Lover I am, and a Lover I'll be,  
And hope from my Love I shall never be free.  
Let wisdom be blamed in the grave woman-hater,  
Yet never to love, is a sin of ill nature:  
But he who loves well, and whose passion is strong,  
Shall never be wretched, but ever be young.   

2.  
With hopes and with fears, like a Ship in the Ocean,  
Our hearts are kept dancing, and ever in motion.  
When our passion is pallid, and our fancy would sail,  
A little kind quarrel supplies a fresh gale:  
But when the doubts cleared, and the jealousi's gone,  
How we kiss, and embrace, and can never have done.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
HOw hard is a heart to be cured  
That is once overwhelmed with despair,  
'Tis a pain by force is endured,  
Despises our pity, and scoffs at our fear:  
But if nothing but Death shall untie  
Those fetters wherewith you enslave me,  
For your sake I am ready to try  
If you are unwilling to leave me,  
Than I am not unwilling to die.   

2.  
How much were it better complying  
With the tears, the sighs, and the groans  
Of a poor distressed Lover dying,  
And list to the cries of his pitiful moans:  
When your Slave shall in triumph be led  
To see the effects of good nature,  
It shall for your honour be said,  
'Tis true you have killed a poor Creature,  
Yet have raised him again from the dead.   

3.  
Though your heart be as cold as the ice is,  
At one time or other you'll find,  
That love has a thousand devices  
To banish could thoughts from your scrupulous mind.  
Thy aid mighty jove I implore,  
That thou to the fair one discover,  
The joys I have for her in store,  
Which she to her passionate Lover  
Will say, she'll be cruel no more.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
CLoris, let my passion ever,  
Be to you as I design:  
Flames so noble, that you never  
Saw the like till you knew mine.   

2.  
Not a breath of feigned passion  
From my lips shall reach your ears;  
Nor this love that's now in fashion;  
Made of modest sighs and tears.   

3.  
In my breast a room so sitting  
For your heart I will prepare,  
That you'll never think of quitting,  
Were you once but harboured there.   

4.  
The Rent's not great that I require  
From your heart, mine to repay:  
Fortitudes all I desire  
To keep your lodging from decay.   

5.  
Fairest Saint, then be not cruel,  
Nor to love me count i● sin;  
Since a smile from you is fuel,  
For to keep this fire in.   

6.  
When I am forced by death or age,  
From your flames for to retire,  
All true Lovers I'll engage  
Still my passion to admire.    

The last Song at the King's House.  

1.  
A Wife I do hate,  
For either she's false, or she's jealous;  
But give me a Mate  
That nothing will ask or tell us:  
She stands on no terms,  
Nor chaffers by way of Indenture;  
Her love's for your Farms,  
But takes the kind man at a venture.   

2.  
If all prove not right,  
Without Act, Process, or Warning,  
From a Wife for a night  
You may be divorced in the morning.  
Where Parents are slaves  
Their Brats cannot be any other;  
Great Wits and great Braves  
Have always a P●nk to their M●ther.    

A Song.  

1.  
WEr'● thou but half so wise as thou art fair,  
Thou wouldst not need such courting,  
'Twill prove a loss you'll ne'er repair,  
Should you still defer your sporting.  
This peevish shall I, shall I, you'll repent,  
When your spring is over,  
Beauties after— math— no kind friends hath  
To gratify a Lover.   

2.  
Perhaps you may think 'tis a sin to deal,  
Till Hymen doth authorise you:  
Though the Gods themselves sweet pleasure steal,  
That to coyness thus advise you.  
Pox upon the Linkboy and his Taper,  
I'll kiss, although not have you,  
'Twas an Eunuch wrote all the Text that you quote,  
And the Ethics that enslave you.   

3.  
I am sure you have heard of that sprightly Dame  
That with Mars so often traded,  
Had the God but thought she had been to blame,  
She had surely been degraded.  
Nor is blind Cupid less esteemed  
For the sly tricks of his Mother,  
For men do adore that Son of a Whore,  
As much as any other.   

4.  
'Tis plain antiquity dothlie  
Which made Lucretia squeamish;  
For that which you call Chastity.  
Upon her left a blemish:  
For when her Paramour grew weak,  
Her passion waxed stronger,  
For the Lecherous Drab herself did stab  
'Cause ●arquin stayed no longer.   

5.  
Then away with this Bugbear Vice,  
You are lost if that you fly me,  
In Ell●ium (if you here are nice)  
You never shall come nigh me:  
Hell for Vestals is a Cloister  
I don't run doting thither,  
For the pleasant shades are for her that trades:  
Let's truck and go together.    

A late Song by a Person of Quality.  

1.  
ALas, what shall I do? I have taken on me now  
To make a Song, I vow; O woe is me:  
I am commanded to't, I dare nor stand it out,  
Though I am put to th' rout, it must be:  
Thou shalt do't, then stand to't, I'll set my Muse 〈◊〉 fo●  
With a good chirping Cup,  
There may some hidden Mine, spring from the jui●● of wine▪  
Then take't and drink it up.   

2.  
Pox on't, it will not do, I must have t'other too,  
I claim it as my due, and must loved;  
For where the Land is dry, the good Husband he doth hi●  
To bring the water nigh to improveed.  
He●e's the use of the Juice, open me then the sluice,  
And deny my wit in grain;  
That Skull's ne'er empty that takes it in plenty,  
It's the only spring of the brain.   

3.  
Madam now you may see what obedience is in me,  
I have done what may be to obey,  
I have set my Muse on foot, with the sprightly grape to boot,  
Your Commands made me do't, they must sway:  
If my pate soon or late, shall bring forth some conceit,  
To you my wit I owe.  
If I do fall flat, it's because, mark you that,  
I am a Cup to low.  
If I spoke sense enough, or did speak but stuff,  
All is alike to me;  
I'll never pause upon't, you were the cause on't,  
And that's my Apology.    

Silvia. Made by a Person of Honour. But the Answer and Reply lately added.  
SIlvia, tell me how long it will be  
Before you will grant my desire:  
Is there no end of your cruelty,  
But must I consume in this fire?  
You'll not tell me you love me, nor yet that you hate,  
But take pleasure in seeing me languish  
Ah Silvia pity my desperate state,  
For you are the cause of my anguish:  

Her ANSWER.  
DAmon, I tell thee I never shall be  
In a humour to grant thy desire;  
Nor can I be taxed with cruelty,  
Having one that I more do admire.  
For 'tis him that I love, and thee that I hate,  
Yet I find you fain would be doing;  
No, Damon, you never shall be my Mate,  
Then prithee, Friend, leave off thy wooing.   

His REPLY.  
SILVIA know, I never shall more  
Be a Suitor to pride and disdaining,  
Nor can my respects be as heretofore,  
Being now in the time of their waning:  
For I prise not thy love, nor I fear not thy hate,  
Then prithee take it for a warning,  
Whenever you meet with another mate,  
Faith Silvia leave off your scorning.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
wherever I am, and whatever I do,  
My Phillis is still in my mind:  
When angry, I mean not to Phillis to go,  
My feet of themselves the way find.  
Unknown to myself, I am just at her door,  
And when I would rail, I can bring out no more.  
Than, Phillis too fair and unkind.  
Than, Phillis too fair and unkind.   

2.  
When Phillis I see, my heart burns in my breast,  
And the love I would stifle is shown,  
But asleep or wake, I am never at rest,  
When from mine eyes Phillis is gone.  
Sometimes a sweet dream does delude my sad mind,  
But alas when I wake, and no Phillis I find,  
Then I sigh to myself all alone,  
Then I sigh to myself all alone.   

3.  
Should a King be my Rival in her I adore,  
He should offer his treasure in vain,  
O let me alone to be happy and poor,  
And give me my Phillis again:  
Let Phillis be mi●e, and ever be kind,  
I could to a Desert with her be confined,  
And envy no Monarch his Reign,  
And envy no Monarch his Reign.   

4.  
Alas! I discover too much of my love,  
And she too well knows her own power;  
She makes me each day a new Martyrdom prove,  
And makes me grow jealous each hour.  
But let her each minute torment my poor mind,  
I had rather love Phillis both false and unkind,  
Then ever be freed from her power,  
Then ever be freed from her power.    

The Coy Lady slighted at last.  

1.  
POor Celia once was very fair,  
A quick bewitching eye she had,  
Most neatly looked her braided hair,  
Her lovely cheeks would make you mad●  
Upon her Lips did all the Grace's play,  
And on her Breasts ten thousand Cupids lay.   

2.  
Then many a doting Lover came,  
From seventeen unto twenty one:  
Each told her of his mighty flame,  
But she forsooth affected none;  
This was not handsome, t'other was not fine;  
This of Tobacco s●elt, and that of Wine.   

3.  
But t'other day it was my fate  
To pass along that way alone:  
I saw no Coach before her Gate,  
But at her door I heard her moan,  
And dropped a tear, and sighing seemed to say,  
Young Ladies marry, marry while you may.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
WOrld thou art so wicked grown,  
That thy deceits I must disown,  
Since Knaves from honest men cannot be known,  
So general is Distraction:   

2.  
Men that are grave and should be wise,  
In their opinions are so precise,  
That always they turn up the whites of their eyes,  
When plotting some other faction.   

Conventicles are grown so rife,  
Whose followers are so many,  
There's so much gathered for their relief,  
Poor Cavaliers cannot get any.   

Wit without money is such a curse,  
No Mortal would be in its Clutches:  
And he that hath one without tother is worse  
Than a Cripple without his Crutches.    

A Song by a Person of Quality.  

HOld, hold, and no further advance,  
For I'm cast i● a Trance,  
If an inch more you give,  
I'm not able to live,  
Then draw back your Lance.   

So now 'tis pretty well my Love,  
Yet if you will,  
You may somewhat further shove,  
But do not kill.  
I die, I die, my breath's almost gone;  
Pray let me sleep, and I'll wake anon.    

A Rhodomantade on his cruel Mistress.  

SEek not to know a woman; for she's worse  
Than all Ingredients crammed into a Curse.  
Were she but ugly, prevish, proud, a Whore,  
Perjured or painted, so she were no more,  
I could forgive her, and connive at this,  
Alleging still she but a Woman is:  
But she is worse, and may in time forestall,  
The Devil, and be the damning of us all.    

A SONG. A Dialogue between two Friends. Tune, How severe is forgetful old age.  R. 

HOw unhappy a Lover am I,  
Whilst I sigh for my Phyllis in vain,  
All my hopes of delight are another man's right,  
Who is happy whilst I am in pain.   W. 

2.  
Since her honour affords no relief,  
As to pity the pains which you bear,  
It's the best of your Fate in a helpless estate,  
To give over betimes to despair.   R. 

3.  
I have tried the false Medicine in vain,  
Yet I wished what I hope not to win,  
From without my desires has no food to its fires,  
But it burns and consumes me within.   W. 

4.  
Yet at best it's a comfort to know  
That you are not unhappy alone;  
For the Nymph you adore is as wretched or more,  
And accounts all your sufferings her own.   R. 

5.  
O you Powers let me suffer for both,  
At the feet of my Phyllis I'll lie,  
I'll resign up my breath, and take pleasure in death,  
To be pitied by her when I die.   W. 

6.  
What her honour denied you in life,  
In her death she will give to her love:  
Such a flame as is true after fate will renew,  
For the souls do meet freely above.    

A SONG called The Injured Lady.  

1.  
O You powerful Gods, if I must be  
An injured Offering to Love's Deity,  
Grant my Revenge, this Plague on men,  
That Women ne'er may love again.  
Then I'll with joy submit unto my Fate,  
Which by your justice gives your Empire date.   

2.  
Depose that great insulting Tyrant Boy,  
Who most is pleased when he does most destroy:  
O let the world no longer governed be  
By such a blind and childish Deity.  
For if you Gods are in your Power severe,  
We shall adore you not for Love but Fear.   

3.  
But if you'll his Divinity maintain,  
('Tis mwn, false men, confirm his tottering reign)  
And when their hearts Loves greatest torment prove  
Let that no pity, but our laughter move.  
Thus scorned and lost to all their wished for aim,  
Let rage, despair, and death consume their flame.    

The Wooing Rogue. The Tune ●s, My Freedom is all my joy..  

1.  
COme live with me, and be my Whore,  
And we will be● from door to door,  
Then under a hedge we'll sit and louse us,  
Until the Beadle comes to rouse us,  
And if the●'l give us no relief,  
Thou shalt turn Whore and I'll turn Thief.  
Thou shalt turn Whore and I'll turn Thief.   

2.  
If thou canst rob, than I can steal,  
And we'll eat Roast-meat every meal:  
Nay, we'll eat White-bread every day,  
And throw our mouldy Crusts away,  
And twice a day we will be drunk,  
And then at night I'll kiss my Punk.  
And then at night I'll kiss my Punk.   

3.  
And when we both shall have the Pox,  
We then shall want both Shirts and Smocks,  
To shift each others mangy hide,  
That is with Itch so pockified;  
we'll take some clean ones from a hedge,  
And leave our old ones for a pledge.  
And leave our old ones for a pledge.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
HOw severe is forgetful old age,  
To confine a poor Lover so,  
That I almost despair to see even the air,  
Much more my dear Damon, hay ho.   

2.  
Though I whisper my sighs out alone,  
Yet I am traced wherever I go,  
That some treacherous Tree keeps this old man from me  
And there he counts every hey ho.   

3.  
How shall I this Argus blind,  
And so put an end to my woe?  
But whilst I beguile all his frowns with a smile,  
I betray myself with a hey ho.   

4.  
My restraint then, alas, must endure;  
So that since my sad doom I know,  
I will pine for my Love like the Turtle-Dove,  
And breath out my life in hey ho.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
NEver persuade me to't, I vow  
I live not: How canst thou  
Expect a life in me,  
Since my Soul is fled to thee?  
You suppose because I walk,  
And you think talk,  
I therefore breath, alas, you know  
Shades as well as men do so.   

2.  
You may argue I have heat,  
My pulses beat,  
My sighs have in them living fire.  
Grant your Argument be truth,  
Such heats my youth  
Inflame, as poisons do only prepare  
To make death their follower.    

A Song.  

FArewel, farewel fond love, under whose childish whip  
I have served out a weary Prenticeship.  
Farewell, thou that hast made me thy scorned property,  
To dote on those that loved not,  
And to sly those that wooed me:  
Go bane of my content, and practise on some other Patient.   

2.  
My woeful Monument shall be a Cell,  
The murmur of the purling Brook my knell;  
And for my Epitaph the Rocks shall groan  
Eternally: if any ask this Stone,  
What wretched thing doth in this compass lie,  
The hollow Echo shall reply, 'Tis I, 'Tis I.  
The hollow Echo shall reply, 'Tis I.  
Farewell, farewel.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
HAve I not told thee, dearest mine,  
That I destroyed should be?  
Unhappy, though the crime was thine,  
And mine the misery:  
Thou art not kind, there's none so blind  
As those that will not see.   

2.  
Have I not sighed away my breath  
In homage to thy beauty:  
What have I got but certain death,  
A poor reward for duty.  
Well, when I'm gone you'll ne'er have one  
That will prove half so true t'ye.   

3.  
Have I not steeped my soul in tears,  
When thou didst hardly mind it?  
But rather added to my fears,  
When love should have declined it?  
Which in this breast, I hope for rest,  
But now despair to sinned it.   

4.  
O that I could but sound thy heart,  
And fathom but thy mind:  
Then would I search thy better part,  
And force thee to be kind:  
But now I'm lost, and here am crossed,  
'Tis they that hide must find.   

4.  
If pity then within thy heart  
Doth own a residence,  
Vouchsafe to read my tragic part,  
And plead my innocence:  
Then when I'm dead, it may be said,  
'Twas love was my offence.   

5.  
But since thy will is to destroy,  
I dare not mercy crave,  
But kindly thank my fate, and joy  
I lived to die thy Slave:  
Then exercise those kill eyes,  
And frown me to my grave:    

A Song.  

LOve, fare thee well,  
Since no love can dwell  
In thee, that in hatred dost all excel.   

2.  
All Love is blind,  
Yet none more unkind,  
Than those that repay Love with a proud mind.   

3.  
Love that's Divine,  
Is not Love like to mine,  
Since she doth laugh, when I do repine.  
Then gentle Love for Loves own sake,  
Sigh loving Soul, and break heart, break.    

A Song.  

1.  
MAny declare what torments there are,  
Yet none ever felt so much of despair:  
No love can tell how high my griefs swell.  
O cursed be the pride that reduced me to Hell.   

2.  
My heart is on fire, whilst I do admire  
That you with disdain requite my desire:  
All must cease, that my flames may increase,  
And cursed be the pride that murdered my peace.    

A Song at the King's House.  

BRight Celia, know 'twas not thine eyes  
Alone that first did me surprise;  
The Gods use seldom to dispense  
To your Sex Beauty and Conscience;  
If then they have made me untrue,  
The fault lies not in me, but you:  
Sure 'tis no crime to break a Vow,  
When we are first I know not how.   

2.  
You press me an unusual way,  
To make my Song my Love betray:  
Yet fear you'll turn it to a jest,  
And use me as y'ave done the rest  
Of those sad Captives which complain,  
Yet are enamoured of their flame:  
And though they die for love of you,  
Dare neither love nor you pursue.   

3.  
If love be sin, why live you then  
To make so many guilty men?  
Since 'tis not in the power of Art  
To make a Breastplate for the heart:  
Since 'tis your eyes Loves Shafts convey  
Into our souls a secret way;  
Where if once sixth, no Herb nor Charm  
Can cure us of our inward harm.    

A Song.  

1.  
ALl the flatteries of Fate,  
And the glories of State,  
Are nothing so sweet as what Love doth create:  
If Love you deny,  
'Tis time I should die;  
Kind Death's a reprieve when you threaten to hate.   

2.  
In some shady Grove  
Will I wander and rove,  
With Philomela and the Disconsolate Dove:  
With a down-hanging wing  
Will I mournfully sing  
The Tragic events of Unfortunate Love.   

3.  
With our plaints we'll conspire  
For to heighten Love's fire,  
Still vanquishing life, till at last we expire:  
But when we are dead,  
In a cold leafy bed  
Be interred with the D●rge of this desolate Choir.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
LOve that is skrew'd a pitch too high,  
May speak, but with a squeeze will die:  
The solid Lover knows not how  
To play the Changeling with his Vow:  
Small sorrows may find vent, and break,  
Great ones will rather burst than speak.  
Such is my fortune when my Flora frowns,  
Not only me, but she the world will drown.   

2.  
Thus am I drenched in misery,  
Yet hope she may be kind to me:  
I, but 'tis long first, could she but restrain  
Those kindnesses which I'd be glad to gain,  
She'll surely do'●: if so, it shall be known  
I loved her for her own sake, not my own.  
Thus will I live and die, and so will be  
Exemplary to all Posterity.    

A Song.  

1.  
WHat care I though the world reprove  
My bold, my overdaring love:  
Ignoble minds themselves exempt  
From interest in a brave attempt.   

2.  
The Eagle soaring to behold  
The Sun arrayed in flames of gold,  
Regards not though she burns her wings,  
Since that rich sight such pleasure brings.   

3.  
So feel I now my smiling thought  
To such a resolution brought,  
That it contemns all grief and smart,  
Since I so high have placed my heart.   

4.  
And if I die, some worthy Spirits  
To future times shall sing my merits,  
That easily did my life despise,  
Yet ne'er forsook my enterprise.   

5.  
Then shine bright S●n, and let me see  
The glory of thy Majesty:  
I wish to die, so I may have  
Thy look, my death; thine eye, my grave.    

A Song.  

1.  
BUrn and consume, burn wretched heart,  
Unhappy in extremes thou art:  
If dying looks serve not thy turn,  
To say thy Beauty makes me burn,   

2.  
From thoughts inflam'd pale colours fume  
Into my face, and it consume:  
O my poor heart, what charms thee so,  
That thy afflicted face lets know,   

3.  
Yet will not tell who murders thee,  
But yet will still a Lover be:  
Who hides my Phoenix eyes, that she,  
Whom I adore thus cannot see,   

4.  
How I for her am made a prey  
To sorrow: and do pine away:  
O foolish c●stom and vile use,  
My silence now deserves no truce.    

A Song at the Duke's House.  
O Fain would I before I die  
Bequeath to thee a Legacy:  
That thou mayst say, when I am gone,  
None had my heart but thee alone:  
Had I as many hearts as hairs,  
As many lives as Lovers fears,  
As many lives as years have hours,  
They all and only should be yours.  
Dearest, before you condescend  
To entertain a bosom Friend,  
Be sure you know your servant well,  
Before your liberty you sell:  
For love's a fire in young and old,  
'Tis sometimes hot, and sometimes cold;  
And men you know that when they please,  
They can be sick of Love's disease.  
Then wisely choose a Friend that may  
Last for an age, and not a day;  
Who loves thee not for lip or eye,  
But for thy mutual sympathy.  
Let such a Friend thy heart engage,  
For he will comfort thee in age,  
And kiss thy furrowed wrinkled brow  
With as much joy as I do now.   

A Song called, And to each pretty Lass we will give a green Gown.  

1.  
THus all our life long we are frolic and gay,  
And instead of Court-revels, we merrily play  
At Trap, at Rules, and at Barleybreak run:  
At Goff, and at Football, and when we have done  
These innocent sports, we'll laugh and lie down,  
And to each pretty L●ss  
We will give a green Gown.   

2.  
We teach our little Dogs to fetch and to carry:  
The Partridge, the Hare, the Pheasant's our Quarry:  
The nimble Sqirrils with cudgels we'll chase,  
And the little pretty Lark we betray with a Glass.  
And when we have done, etc.   

3.  
About the Maypole we dance all in a round,  
And with Garlands of Pinks and Roses are crowned▪  
Our little kind tribute we cheerfully pay  
To the gay Lord and the bright Lady o'th' May.  
And when we have done, etc.    

A Song.  

1.  
ON the bank of a Brook as I sa●e fishing,  
Hid in the Oziers' that grew on the side:  
jover-heard a Nymph and Shepherd wishing,  
No time nor fortune their Love might divide.  
To Cupid and Venus each offered a Vow,  
To love ever as they loved now.   

2.  
O, said the Shepherd, and sighed, What a pleasure  
Is Love concealed betwixt Lovers alone?  
Love must be secret, for like fairy treasure,  
When 'tis discovered 'twill quickly be gone.  
For Envy and jealousy, if it will stay,  
Would, alas soon make it decay.   

3.  
Then let us leave this world and care behind us,  
Said the Nymph, smiling, and gave him her hand  
All alone, all alone, where none shall find us,  
In some fair Desert we'll seek a new Land,  
And there live from Envy and jealousy free,  
And a World to each other we'll be.    

A Song.  

1.  
CEllamina, of my heart  
None shall e'●e bereave you:  
If by your good leave I may  
Quarrel with you once a day  
I will never leave you.   

2.  
Passion's but an empty name,  
Where respect is wanting;  
Damon, you mistake your aim,  
Hang your heart, and damn your flame,  
If you must be ranting.   

3.  
Love as pale and muddy is,  
As decaying Liquor:  
Anger sets it on the Lees,  
And resines it by degrees,  
Till it works it quicker.   

4.  
Love by anger to beget,  
Wisely you endeavour,  
With a grave Physician wit,  
Who to cure an ague fit,  
Puts me in a fever.   

5.  
Anger rouseth Love to fight,  
And its only bait is,  
'Tis the guide to dull delight,  
And is but an eager bite  
When desire at height is.   

6.  
If such drops of heat do fall,  
In our wooing weather,  
If such drops of heat do fall,  
We shall have the Devil and all,  
When we come together.    

A Song at the King's house.  

BEneath a Myrtle shade,  
Which none but Love for happy Lovers made,  
I slept, and straight my Love before me brought  
Phillis, the object of my waking thought.  
Undressed she came, my flames to meet,  
Whilst Love strewed flowers beneath her feet:  
Flowers, that so pressed by her, became more sweet.   

2.  
From the bright Virgin's head,  
A careless Veil of Lawn was loosely spread▪  
From her white Temple fell her shady hair,  
Like cloudy Sunshine, not too brown nor fair,  
Her hands, her lips did love inspire,  
Her every Grace my heart did fire,  
But most her eyes, that languish with desire.   

3.  
Ah charming Fair, said I,  
How long can you my bliss deny?  
By nature and by Love this lovely shade  
Was for revenge of suffering Lovers made  
Silence and shades with Love agree.  
Both shelter you and favour me:  
You cannot blush, because I cannot see.   

4.  
No, let me die, she said,  
Rather than lose the spotless name of Maid.  
Faintly methought she spoke; for all the while  
She bid me not believe her, with a smile.  
Then die, said I: She still denied,  
And yet, Thus, thus she cried,  
You use a harmless Maid, and so she died.   

5.  
I waked, and strait I knew  
I loved so well, it made my dream prove true.  
Fancy the kinder Mistress of the two.  
I fancy I had done what Phillis would not do▪  
Ah cruel Nymph, cease your disdain,  
Whilst I can dream you scorn in vain,  
Asleep or waking, I must ease my pain.    

The disconsolate Lover.  

1.  
AS I lay all alone on my ●ed slumbering,  
Thinking my restless soul to repose,  
All my thoughts they began then to be numbering  
Up her disdaining, the cause of my woes;  
That so increased my dolour and pain,  
I fear I never shall see her again:  
Which makes me sigh, and sobbing cry,  
O my Love, O my Love, for thee I die.   

2.  
When this fair cruel She I first saw praying  
Within the Temple unto her Saint,  
Then mine eyes every look my heart betraying,  
Which is the cause of my doleful complaint,  
That all my joys are quite fled and gone:  
And I in sorrow am now lef● alone:  
Which makes me sigh, and sobbing cry,  
O my Love, O my Love, for thee I die.   

3.  
Then farewel every thing that sounds like pleasure,  
And welcome Death the cure of my sma●t.  
I deemed first sight of her, I grasped a treasure;  
But woe is me, it has broken my heart:  
For now my Passing-bell calls away,  
And I with her no longer must stay:  
Which makes me sigh, and sobbing cry,  
O my Love, O my Love, for thee I die.    

The subtle and coy Girl. The Tune, Silvia tell me how long it will be.  

1.  
WHy should my Celia now be coy,  
In denying to yield me those Graces  
Which we did formerly both enjoy  
In our amorous mutual embraces?  
She'll not give me a reason,  
But shows me a frown  
Is enough to destroy a poor Lover.  
Ah Celia, once I did think thee mine own,  
But now I my folly discover.   

2.  
Is it because I have been so kind  
At all times to feed thy desire  
In Presents and Treats, thou hast changed thy mind,  
And left me like Dun in the Mire?  
Or else is't because thou dost  
Think my Estate  
Is too mean to uphold thee in Bravery?  
Know Celia, 'tis not so much out of date  
To force me endure so much slavery.   

3.  
Or is't because thou wilt follow the mode,  
Since most are addicted to changing,  
Thou'dst only get thee a name abroad,  
I being more famous for ranging.  
Nay Celia, more this truth thou woo'●●ind,  
I therefore advise thee be wary,  
When ever thou ge●st thee a Mate to thy mind,  
He'll play thee the same vagary.    

The Drawing of Valentine's The tune, Madam's jig.  

1.  
THere was, and there was,  
And I ma●●y was there,  
A Crew on S. Valentine's Eve did meet together,  
And every Lad had his particular Lass there,  
And drawing of Valentine's caused their  
Coming thither.  
Then Mr. john drew Mrs. jone f●●st, Sir.  
And Mrs. jone would fain a drawn john an she  
Durst, Sir.  
So Mr. William drew Mrs. Gillian the next, Sir;  
And Mrs. Gillian not drawing of William,  
Was vexed, Sir,   

2.  
They then did jumble all in the ha● together,  
And each did promise them to draw 'em fair Sir:  
But Mrs. Hester vowed that she had rather  
Draw Mr. Kester then any that was there Sir:  
So Mr. Kester drew with Mrs. Hester then Sir:  
And Mrs. Hester drew Mr. Kester again Sir:  
And Mr. Harry drew Mrs. Mary featly,  
And Mrs. Mary did draw Mr. Harry as neatly.   

3.  
They all together then resolved to draw Sir,  
And every one desired to draw their Friend Sir;  
But Mr. Richard did keep 'em so in awe Sir,  
And told 'em than they ne'er should make an end Sir,  
So Mr. Richard drew Mrs. Bridget squarely,  
And Mrs. Bridget drew Mr. Richard as fairly:  
But Mr. Hugh drew Mrs. Su but slily,  
And Mrs. Su did draw Mr. Hugh as wily.   

4.  
Thus have you heard o'th' twelve that lately drew Sir:  
How every one would fain their Friend have drawn  
And now there's left to draw but four o'●h crew Sir,  
And each did promise his Lass an ell of Lawn Sir.  
So Mr. Watty drew Mrs. Katy but slightly,  
And Mrs. Katy did draw Mr. Watty as lightly:  
But Mr. Thomas in drawing of Annis too fast Sir.  
Made Mrs. Annis to draw Mr. Thomas at last Sir.   

5.  
And there is an ●nd, and an and, and an end of my Song, Sir,  
Of jonne and jony, and William and Gillian too Sir,  
To Kester and Hester, and Harry and Mary belong Sir,  
Both Richard and Bridget, and Hugh, and honest Sue, Sir,  
But Watty and Katy, and Thomas and Annis here, Sir.  
Are the only four that now do bring up the Rear Sir:  
Then every one i'●h' Tavern cry amain Sir,  
And stayed till drawing there had filled their brain, Sir.    

A late and true story of a furious Scold, served in her kind. The tune, Step stately.  

1.  
WAs ever man so vexed with a Trull,  
As I poor Anthony since I was wed,  
For I never can get my belly full,  
But be●o●e I have supped, I must hasten to bed:  
Or else she'll begin to scold and to brawl,  
And to call me Puppy and Cuckold and all  
Yet she with her Crumbs must trole it about,  
Whilst I in my Kennel must snore it out.   

2.  
I once did g● to drink with a Friend,  
But she in a trice did fetch me away:  
We both but two pence a piece did spe●d,  
Yet it proved to me Execution day;  
For she flew in my face, and called me fool,  
And combed my head with a three-legged stool:  
Nay, she furnished my face with so many scratches.  
That for a whole month 'twas covered with patches   

3.  
Whatever money I get in the day,  
To keep her in quiet I give her at night,  
Or else shall licence her tongue to play  
For two or three hours just like a spirit.  
Then to the Cupboard Pilga●lick must high,  
To seek for some Crusts that have long lain dry:  
So I steep 'em in skim-milk until they are wet,  
And commonly this is the Supper I get.   

4.  
And once a month, for fashion sake,  
She gives me leave to come to her bed;  
But most that time I must lie awake,  
Left she in her fits should knock me o'th'hea●.  
But for the Bed I do lie on myself,  
You'd think '●were as soft as an Oaken shelf;  
For the Tick it is made of Hempen-hurds:  
And yet for all this I must give her good words.   

5.  
We commonly both do piss in a Pan,  
But the Cullender once was set in the place:  
She than did take it up in her hand,  
And flouneed it out on my stomach and face.  
I told her than she urined beside,  
But she cayed me Rogue, and told me I lied,  
And swore it was not up to her thumb,  
Then threw she the pan in the middle of the room.   

6.  
Then a Maid that was my Sweet heart before  
Did come to the house to borrow a Pail:  
I kissed her but once, and I thought on'● no more,  
But she flew in her face with tooth and nail:  
But the Wench she stood to her, and clawed her about,  
That for a whole fortnight she never stirred out;  
For her eyes were so swelled, and her face was so ●ore  
That I never saw Jade so mangled before.   

7.  
She than did bid me drop in her eyes  
A Sovereign Water sent her that day,  
But I had a Liquor I more did prize,  
Made of Henbane and Mercury s●eep'd in Whey:  
I dropped it in and anointed her fa●e,  
Which br●ught her into a most Devilish case:  
For she ●ore and she ranted, and well she might;  
For a●ter that time she 〈◊〉 had sight.   

8.  
I than did get her a Dog and a Bell,  
To lead her about from place to place:  
And now 'tis, Husband, I hope you are well;  
But before it was Cuckolded and Rogue to my face;  
Then blest be that Henbane and Mercury strong,  
That made such a change in my wife's tongue.  
You see 'tis a Medicine certain and sure,  
For the cure of a Scold, but I'll say no more.    

A Song on the Declensions. The tune is, Shackle de hay.  

MY Mistress she is fully known  
To all the five declensions,  
She'll seize 'em singly one by one,  
To take their true Dimensions.  
She ne'er declined yet any man,  
Yet they'll decline her now and then,  
In spite of her Inventions.   

2.  
First Musa is her Mother's name,  
And haec does still attend her:  
She is a hujus burley Dame,  
Though huic be but slender:  
Yet she'll have a hanc on every man,  
And hac him to do what he can,  
Unless they do befriend her.   

3.  
Magister was her Father too,  
And hic is still his man Sir,  
Nay si●ius is her Son also,  
And Dominus her Grandsire:  
Nay Lucus, Agnus, and that Lamblike crew,  
She'll call 'em hunc's, I and hoc●s 'em too,  
Do all that e'er they can Sir.   

4.  
Next she's to lapis very kind,  
As honest hic has sed Sir;  
For she's to precious stones inclined  
Full long before she was wed Sir▪  
Which made her Parents often say,  
That hic and haec both night and day,  
Was forced to watch her bed Sir.   

5.  
She beat poor manus with a Cane,  
Though he did often hand her  
From Whetstones-Park to Parkers-Lane,  
And was her constant Pander.  
Yet give him man● busses when  
That she could get no other men,  
That he could not withstand her.   

6.  
'Bout noon she'd with Meridies dine,  
And sup, and bed him too Sir:  
She'd make poor fancies to her incline,  
In spite of all he could do Sir.  
She day by day would dies pledge,  
Which set poor acies teeth an edge,  
And often made him spew Sir,   

7.  
Thus have I showed her Kindred here,  
And all her dear Relations,  
As Musa, Lapis, Magister,  
And all their antic fashions.  
Meridies, Manus, and Felix too  
Are happy that they never knew  
Any of all her station.    

A Song of the three degrees of comparison. The tune, And 'tis the Knave of Clubs ●ears all the sway.  

MY Mistress she loves Dignities,  
For she has taken three degrees:  
There's no comparison can be made  
With her in all her subtle Trade.  
She's positively known a Whore,  
And superlatively runs on score.   

2.  
And first I Positive her call,  
'Cause she'll be absolute in all:  
For she's to dupus very hard,  
And with sad tristis often janed:  
Which happily made Felix say▪  
Sweet dulcis carried all away.   

3.  
Next she's called Comparative,  
For she'll compare to any alive,  
For scolding, whoring, and the rest:  
Of the Illiberal Sciences in her breast:  
She'll drink more hard than durlor.  
Though he would harder drink before.   

4.  
Then she's called Superlative;  
'Cause she'll her Pedigree derive,  
Not from Potens or Potentior,  
The Mighty, or the Mightier:  
But from Potentissimus,  
Not bonus, melior, but Optimus.   

5.  
Thus have I showed my Mistress t'ye,  
And gradually in each degree:  
How show is Positive to some,  
Comparative when others come,  
Superlative even over all,  
Yet underneath herself will fall.    

The kind Husband, but imperious Wife. The first part of the Tune his, and the latter part hers.  M. 

1.  
WIfe, prithee come give me thy hand now,  
And sit thee down by me:  
There's never a man in the Land now  
Shall be more loving to thee.   W. 

2.  
I hate to sit by such a Drone,  
Thou liest like a Hog in my Bed:  
I had better a lain alone,  
For I still have my Maidenhead.   M. 

3.  
Wife, what wouldst thou have me to do now,  
I think I have played the man:  
But if I were ruled by you now,  
You'd have me do more than I can.   W. 

4.  
I make you do more than you can?  
You lie like a Fool God wot:  
When I thought to have found thee a man.  
I found thee a fumbling Sot.   M. 

5.  
Wife, prithee now leave off thy ranting,  
And let us both agree;  
There's nothing else shall be wanting,  
If thou wilt be ruled by me.   W. 

6.  
I will have a Coach and a man:  
And a Saddle Horse to ride;  
I also will have a Sedan,  
And a Footman to run by my side.   M. 

7.  
Thou shalt have all this, my dear wife,  
And thou shalt bear the sway,  
And I'll provide thee good cheer, wife,  
Against thou comest from the Park or a Play:   W. 

8.  
I'll have every month a new Gown,  
And a Petticoat died in grain,  
Of the modishest Silk in the Town,  
And a Page to hold up my Train.   M. 

9  
Thou shalt have this too, my sweet wife,  
If thou'dst contented be,  
Or any thing else that is meet wife,  
So that we may but agree.   W. 

10.  
I will have a Gallant or two,  
And they shall be handsome men:  
And I'll make you to know your Cue,  
When they come in and go out again.   M. 

11.  
Methinks a couple's to few, wife,  
Thou shalt have three or four,  
And yet I know thou'dst be true, wife,  
Although thou hadst half a score.   W. 

12.  
I will have as many as I please,  
In spite of your teeth, you fool,  
And when I've the Pocky Disease,  
'Tis thou shalt empty my stool.   M. 

13.  
Why how now you brazenfaced Harlot,  
I'll make you to change your note,  
And if ever I find you snarl at  
My actions, I'll bang your Coat.   

14.  
Nay, I'll make you to wait, you Flaps,  
At Table till I have dined,  
And I'll leave you nothing but scraps,  
Until I do find you more kind.   W. 

15.  
Sweet Husband, I now cry Peccavi,  
You know we women are frail;  
And for the ill words that I gave ye,  
Ask pardon, and hope to prevail.  
For now I will lie at your foot.  
Desiring to kiss your hand:  
Nay, cast off my Gallants to boot,  
And still be at your commnad.    

A Song at the Duke's House.  

1.  
MAke ready, fair Lady, to night,  
And stand at the door below:  
For I will be there to receive you with care,  
And to your true love you shall go.   

2.  
And when the Stars twinkle so bright,  
Then down to the door will I creep,  
To my Love will I fly, ere the Jealous can spy,  
And leave my old Daddy asleep.    

A Song at the King's House.  

1.  
TO little or no purpose have I spent all my days  
In ranging the Park th' Exchange, & the Plays,  
Yet ne'er in my Ramble till now did I prove  
So happy, to meet with the man I could love.  
But O how I'm pleased when I think of the man  
That I find I must love, let me do what I can!   

2.  
How long I shall love him, I can no more tell,  
Than had I a Fever, when I should be well:  
My Passion shall kill me before I will show it,  
And yet I would give all the world he did know it,  
But, O how I sigh, when I think, should ●e woe me,  
That I cannot deny what I know will undo me!    

A Song, The Tune, Robin Rowser.  

MY Name is honest Harry,  
And I love little Mary:  
In spite of Cis, or jealous Bess,  
I'll have my own vagary.   

2.  
My Love is blithe and buxom,  
And sweet and fine as can be:  
Fresh and gay as the flowers in May,  
And looks like jackadandy.   

3.  
And if she will not have me,  
That am so true a Lover,  
I'll drink my Wine, and ne'er repine,  
And down the stairs I'll shove her.   

4.  
But if that she will love,  
I'll be as kind as may be;  
I'll give her Rings and pretty things,  
And deck her like a Lady.   

5.  
Her Petticoat of Satin,  
Her Gown of Crimson Taby,  
Laced up before and spangled o'er,  
Just like a Bartholomew Baby.   

6.  
Her Waistcoat is of Scarlet,  
With Ribbons tied together,  
Her Stockings of a bow-dyed hue,  
And her Shoes of Spanish Leather.   

7.  
Her Smock o'th' ●inest Holland,  
And laced in every quarter:  
Side and wide, and long enough,  
And hangs below her garter.   

8.  
Then to the Church I'll have her,  
Where we will wed together:  
So come home when we have done,  
In spite of wind and weather:   

9  
The Fiddlers shall attend us,  
And first play, john come kiss me;  
And when that we have danced a round,  
They shall play, Hit or miss me.   

10.  
Then hay for little Mary,  
'Tis she I love alone Sir:  
Let any man do what he can,  
I will have her or none Sir.    

These following are to be understood two ways.  

I Saw a Peacock, with a fiery tail  
I saw a blazing Comet, drop down hail  
I saw a Cloud, with Ivy circled round  
I saw a sturdy Oak, creep on the ground  
I saw a Pismire, swallow up a Whale  
I saw a raging Sea, brim full of Ale  
I saw a Venice Glass, sixteen foot deep  
I saw a Well, full of men's tears that weep  
I saw their Eyes, all in a flame of fire  
I saw a House, as big as the Moon and higher  
I saw the Sun, even in the midst of night  
I saw the Man that saw this wondrous sight.    

On the Sea-sight with the Hollanders in the R●mps time.  

MY wishes greet the Navy of the Dutch,  
The English Fleet I all good fortune grudge,  
May no storm toss Van Trump and his Sea-Forces,  
The Harp and Cross shall have my daily curses,  
Smile gentle Fates on the Dutch Admiral,  
Upon our States the Plagues of Egypt fall;  
Attend all health the Cavaliering part,  
This Commonwealth I value not a fart.   

Thus I my wishes and my prayers divide  
Between the Rebels and the Regicide:  
Backwards and forwards thus I break my mind,  
And hope the Fates at last will be so kind,  
That the old Proverb may but wheel about,  
True men might have their own, now Knaves fall out.    

The Answer to Ask me no more whither doth stray.  

1.  
I'LL tell you true whither doth stray  
The darkness which succeeds the day;  
For Heaven's vengeance did allow  
It still should frown upon your Brow.   

2.  
I'll tell you true where may be found  
A voice that's like the Screech-owl's found:  
For in your false deriding throat  
It lies, and death is in its note.   

3.  
I'll tell you true whither doth pass  
The smiling look seen in the glass,  
For in your faceed reflects and there  
False as your shadow doth appear.   

4.  
I'll tell you true whither are blown  
The angry wheels of Thistle-down:  
It flies into your mind, whose care  
Is to be light as Thistles are.   

5.  
I'll tell you true within what Nest  
The Cuckoo lays her eggs to rest;  
It is your Bosom, which can keep  
Nor him nor them: Farewell, I'll sleep.    

A Dialogue between William and Harry Riding on the Way.  H. 

1.  
NOble, lovely, virtuous Creature,  
Purposely so framed by nature,  
To enthral your servants wits.   W. 

2.  
Time must now unite our hearts,  
Not for any my deserts,  
But because methinks it fits.   H. 

3.  
Dearest treasure of my thought,  
And yet wert thou to be bought,  
With my life, tho● wert not dear.   W. 

4.  
Secret comfort of my mind,  
Doubt no longer to be kind,  
But be so, and so appear.   H. 

5.  
Give me love for love again,  
Let our loves be clear and plain,  
Heaven is fairest, when it is clearest.   W. 

6.  
Lest in clouds and in deserring,  
We resemble Seamen erring,  
Farthest off when we are nearest.   H. 

7.  
Thus with numbers interchanged,  
William's Muse and mine have ranged,  
Verse and Journey both are spent.   W. 

8.  
And if Harry chance to say,  
That we well have spent the day,  
I for my part am content.    

A Gentleman on his beautiful Mistress.  

1.  
YOu meaner Beauties of the night,  
That poorly satisfy our eyes  
More by your number than your light,  
You common people of the skies,  
What are you when the Sun shall rise?   

2.  
You curious Chanters of the Wood,  
That warble forth Dame Nature's Lays,  
Thinking your voices understood  
By their weak accents, What's your praise  
When Philomela her voice shall raise?   

3.  
You Violets that first appear,  
By your purple Mantles known,  
Like the proud Virgins of the year,  
As if the Spring were all your own,  
What are you when the Rose is blown?   

4.  
So when my Mistress shall be seen  
In form and beauty of her mind,  
She cannot less be than a Queen;  
And I believe she was designed  
T' eclipse the Glory of her kind.    

A Description of the Spring.  

ANd now all Nature seemed in love,  
The lusty Sun began to move:  
Now Juice did stir th' embracing Vines,  
And Birds had drawn their Valentines;  
The jealous Trout that low did lie,  
Rose at a well-dissembled Fly;  
Then stood my Friend with Patient skill,  
Attending of his trembling Quill.  
Already were the Eaves possessed  
With the swift Pilgrims daubed Nest;  
The Groves already did rejoice,  
In Philomel's triumphing voice;  
The Showers were short, the Wether mild,  
The Morning fresh, the Evening smiled:  
jone takes her neat rubbed Pail, and now  
She trips to meet the Sand-red Cow,  
Where for some sturdy Football Swain  
jone strokes a Syllabub or twain:  
The Fields and Gardens were beset  
With Tulip, Crocus, Violet:  
And now, though late, the modest Rose  
Did more than half a blush disclose:  
Thus all looked gay, all full of cheer,  
To welcome this new liv'ried Year.    

On a Shepherd losing his Mistress. Tune, Amongst the Myrtles as I walked.  

1.  
STay Shepherd, prithee Shepherd stay:  
Didst thou not see her run this way?  
Where may she be, canst thou not guests?  
Alas! I've lost my Shepherdess.   

2.  
I fear some satire has betrayed  
My pretty Lamb unto the shade:  
Then woe is me, for I'm undone,  
For in the shade she was my Sun.   

3.  
In Summer heat were she not seen,  
No solitary Vale was green:  
The blooming Hills, the downy Meads,  
Bear not a Flower but where she treads.   

4.  
Hushed were the senseless Trees when she  
Sat but to keep them company:  
The silver streams were swelled with pride,  
When she sat singing by their side.   

5.  
The Pink, the Cowslip, and the Rose  
Strive to salute her where she goes;  
And then contend to kiss her shoe,  
The Pancy and the Daizy too.   

6.  
But now I wander on the Plains,  
Forsake my home, and Fellow-Swains,  
And must for want of her, I see,  
Resolve to die in misery.   

7.  
For when I think to find my Love  
Within the bosom of a Grove,  
Methinks the Grove bids me forbear,  
And sighing says, She is not here.   

8.  
Next do I fly unto the Woods,  
Where Flora pranks herself with Buds,  
Thinking to find her there: But lo!  
The Myrtles and the Shrubs say, No.   

9  
Then what shall I unhappy do,  
Or whom shall I complain unto?  
No, no, here I'm resolved to die,  
Welcome sweet Death and Destiny.    

The Soldiers Resolution.  
HEre stands the man that for his Country's good  
Has with courageous Arms in sweat and blood  
Ran through an Host of Pikes: He, he I was  
Outdared the Thunder of the roaring Brass,  
Kicked my black Stars, spurned Balls of fire with sco●  
Like to a Football in a frosty morn;  
Made Death to tremble, and have bid my Drum  
Beat a Defiance to the Cowardly scum.  
And shall I now like a Pedantic stand,  
Scraping and crouching with my Cap in hand  
To base-born Peasants? No, he's but a Worm  
That strikes his Topsail to a little Storm.  
Here then I'll fix, that nothing shall control  
The Resolutions of a Gallant Soul.   

On the Golden Cross in Cheapside.  
TWo Fellows gazing at the Cross in Cheap,  
Says one, Methinks it is the rarest heap  
Of Stone that e'er was built; it ought, I see,  
One of the Wonders of the World to be,  
No, says the other, and began to swear,  
The Crosses of the World no Wonders are.   

On a Pretender to Gentility, suspected to be a Highwayman.  
A Great Pretender to Gentility,  
Came to a Herald for his Pedigree:  
Beginning there to swagger, roar, and swear,  
Required to know what Arms he was to beat:  
The Herald knowing what he was, begun  
To rumble o'er his Heraldry; which done,  
Told him he was a Gentleman of note,  
And that he had a very glorious Coat.  
Prithee, what is't? quoth he, and here's your fees.  
Sir, says the Herald, 'tis two Rampant Trees,  
One Couchant; add to give it further scope,  
A Ladder Passant, and a Pendant Rope:  
And for a grace unto your Blue-coat Sleeves,  
There is a Bird i'th' Crest that strangles Thiefs.   

A Song.  

1.  
A Blithe and bonny Country Lass  
Sat sighing on the tender Grass,  
And weeping said, will none come woe her?  
A dapper Boy, a lither Swain,  
That had a mind her love to gain,  
With smiling looks strait came unto her.   

2.  
When as the wanton Girl espied  
The means to make herself a Bride,  
She simpered much like bonny Nell.  
The Swa●n that saw her very kind,  
H●s Arms about her body twined,  
And said, Fair Lass, how fare ye, well?   

3.  
The Country Lass said, Well forsooth,  
But that I have a longing tooth,  
A longing tooth, that makes me cry.  
Alas, says he, what ga●s thy grief?  
A wound, says she, without relief,  
I fear that I a Maid shall die.   

4.  
If that be all, the Shepherd said,  
I'll make thee Wive it, gentle Maid,  
And so ●ecure thy Malady:  
On which they kissed, with many an O●th,  
And ' sore God Pan did plight their Troth;  
So to the Church away they high.   

5.  
And jove send every pretty Peat,  
That fears to die of this conceit,  
So kind a Friend to help at last:  
Then Maids shall never long again,  
When they find ease for such a pain:  
And thus my Roundelay is past.    

A Song on Love.  

1.  
IF Love be Life, I long to die;  
Live they that list for me,  
And he that gains the most thereby.  
A fool at least shall be.  
But he that feels the forest fits,  
Scapes with no less than loss of wits.  
Unhappy life they gain, which Love do entertain.   

2.  
In day by feigned Looks they live,  
By lying Dreams in night:  
Each ●rown a deadly wound doth give,  
Each smile a false delight.  
If't hap their Lady pleasant seem,  
It is for others love they deem:  
If void she seem of joy, disdain doth make her coy.   

4.  
Such is the peace that Lovers find,  
Such is the Life they lead,  
Blown here and there with every wind,  
Like Flowers in the Mead.  
Now war, now peace, than war again,  
Desire, despair, delight, disdain,  
Though dead, in midst of life; in peace, and yet at strife.    

A Song.  
I Serve Amynta whiter than the snow,  
Straighter than Cedar, brighter than the Glass,  
More sine in trip than foot of running Roe,  
More pleasant than the Field of flow'ring Grass;  
More gladsome to my withering joys that fade,  
Than Winter's Sun, or Summer's cooling Shade.  

2.  
Sweeter than swelling Grape of ripest Vine,  
Softer than feathers of the fairest swan,  
Smother than Jet, more stately than the Pine,  
Fresher than Poplar, smaller than my span,  
Clearer than Phoebus' fiery pointed Beam,  
Or Icy Crust of Crystals frozen streams.   

3.  
Yet is she curster than the Bear by kind,  
And harder-hearted than the aged Oak:  
More glib than Oil, more sickle than the Wind,  
More stiff than steel, no sooner bend but broke.  
Lo thus my service is a lasting sore;  
Yet will I serve, although I die therefore.    

The Description of Love, in a Dialogue between two Shepherds, Will and Tom.  Tom. 

1.  
SHepherd, what's Love, I prithee tell?   Will. 
It is that fountain and that Well  
Where Pleasure and Repeutance dwell:  
It is perhaps that fauncing Bell  
That toll All-in to Heaven or Hell,  
And this is Love, as I heard tell.  T. 

2.  
Yet what is Love, I prithee say?   W. 
It is a work on Holiday:  
It is December matched with May,  
When lusty Bloods in fresh array,  
Hearten months after of their play;  
And this is Love, as I hear say.  T. 

3.  
Yet what is Love, I pray be plain?   W. 
It is a Sunshine mixed with Rain;  
It is a Toothache, or worse pain;  
It is a Game, where none doth gain,  
It is a thing turmoils the brain:  
And this is Love, as I hear say.  T. 

4.  
Yet Shepherd, what is Love, I pray?   W. 
It is a yea, it is a nay,  
A pretty kind of sporting fray;  
It is a thing will soon away,  
For 'twill not long with any stay:  
And this is Love, as I hear say.  T. 

5.  
Yet what is Love, good Shepherd show?   W. 
A thing that creeps, it cannot go;  
A prize that passeth to and fro,  
A thing for one, a thing for more,  
And he that loves shall find it so:  
And Shepherd, this is Love, I trow.   

A Song called Loves Lottery. At the Duke's House.  
RUn to Love's Lottery, run Maids, and rejoice,  
Whilst seeking your chance, you meet you own Choice,  
And boast that your luck you helped with design,  
By praying crosslegged to S. Valentine.  
Hark, hark, a Prize is drawn, and Trumpets sound  
Tanta, ra, ra, Tanta, ra, ra, Tanta, ra, ra.  
Hark Maids, more Lots are drawn, Prizes abound;  
Dub a dub, the Drum now beats,  
And dub, a dub, a dub, Echo repeats,  
As if the God of War had made  
Love's Queen a Skirmish for a Serenade.  
Haste, haste, fair Maids, and come away,  
The Priest attends, the Bridegrooms stay:  
Roses and Pinks will we strew where you go,  
Whilst I walk in Shades of Willow.  
When I am dead, let him that did slay me  
Be but so kind, so gentle to lay me  
There where neglected Lovers mourn,  
Where Lamps and hallowed Tapers burn,  
Where Clerks in Quires sad Dirges sing,  
Where sweetly Bells at Burials ring.   

On a Gentleman. Tune, My Freedom, which is all my joy..  

2.  
POor Clori● wept, and from her eyes  
The liquid tears came trickling down;  
Such wealthy drops may well suffice,  
To be the ransom of a Crown:  
And as she wept, she sighed, and said,  
Alas for me unhappy Maid,  
That by my folly, my folly am betrayed.   

2.  
When first these eyes, unhappy eyes,  
Met with the Author of my woe,  
Methoughts our Souls did sympathise,  
And it was death to say him no.  
He sued, I granted; O then befell  
My shame, which I'm afraid to tell!  
Ay me that I had never loved so well.   

3.  
O had I been so wise as not  
T'have yielded up my Virgin-Fort,  
My life had been without a blot,  
And dared the envy of Report;  
But now my guilt hath made me be  
A scorn for time to point at me,  
As at the But and Mark of Misery.   

4.  
Here now in sorrow do I sit,  
And pensive thoughts possess my breast!  
My silly heart with cares is split,  
And grief denies me wont rest:  
Come then black night and screen me round,  
That I may never more be found,  
Unless in tears, in tears of sorrow drowned.    

On Men escaped drowning in a Tempest.  

1.  
ROcks, Shelves, and Sands, and all farewell:  
Fie, who would dwell in such a Hell  
As is a Ship; which drunk doth reel,  
Taking salt Healths from Deck to Keel.   

2.  
Up we are swallowed in wet graves,  
All soused in Waves, by Neptune's Slaves:  
What shall we do, being tossed to Shore,  
Milk some blind Tavern, and there roar?   

3.  
'Tis brave, my Boys, to sail on Land;  
For being well manned, we can cry, Stand:  
The Trade of pursing ne'er shall fail,  
Until the Hangman cries, Strike Sail.    

On a great Heat in Egypt.  
I Formerly in Countries oft have been  
Under the AEquinoctial, where I've seen  
The Sun disperse such a prodigious Heat,  
That made our Sievelike Skins to rain with Sweat:  
Men would have given for an Eclipse their lives.  
Or one whisper of Air: yet each man strives  
To throw up grass, feathers, nay, women ●oo,  
To find the Wind: all falls like Lead, none blue.  
The Dog-star spits new fires, till't come to pass,  
Each man became his neighbours Burning glass:  
Lean men did turn to ashes presently,  
Fat men did roast to lean anatomy:  
Young women's hea● did get themselves with child  
For none but they themselves, themselves defiled.  
Old women naturally to Witches turned,  
And only rubbing one another, burned:  
The Beasts were baked, skin turned to crust they say,  
And fishes in the River boiled away:  
Birds in the air were roasted, and not burned;  
For as they fell down, all the way they turned.   

On a mighty Rain.  
HEaven did not weep, but in its swelling eye  
Whole seas of Rheum and moist Catarrhs did lie,  
Which so bespawled the lower world, men see  
Corn blasted, and the fruit of every Tree:  
Air was condensed to water, against their wish,  
And all their Fowl were turned to flying Fish:  
Like Watermen they thronged to ply a Fare,  
And thought it had been navigable air:  
Beasts lost their natural motion of each limb;  
Forgot to go, with practising to swim.  
A Trout now here, you would not think how soon  
Ta'en ready dressed forth ' Empress of the Moon:  
The fixed Stars, though to our eyes were missing,  
We knew yet were, by their continual hissing.  
Women seemed Mermaids, sailing with the wind,  
The greatest miracle was Fish behind:  
But men are all kept short against their wish,  
And could commit but the cold sin of Fish.   

The blunt Lover.  
MAdam, I cannot court your sprightly eyes  
With a Base-Viol placed betwixt my thighs:  
I cannot lisp, nor to the Guittar sing,  
And tyre my brains with simple Sonnetting,  
I am not fashioned for these amorous times,  
And cannot court you in lascivious Rhimes:  
Nor can I whine in puling Elegies,  
And at your feet lie begging from your eyes  
A gracious look: I cannot dance nor caper,  
Nor dally, swear, protest, lie, rant, and vapour,  
I cannot kiss your hand, play with your hair,  
And tell you that you only are most fair:  
I cannot cross my arms, nor cry, Ay me  
Poor forlorn man! All this is foppery.  
Nor can I Masquerade, as th' fashion's now,  
No, no, My heart to these can never bow:  
But what I can do, I shall tell you roundly,  
Hark in your ear; By jove I'll kiss you sound.   

On a Watch lost in a Tavern.  
A Watch lost in a Tavern! That's a Crime;  
Then see how men by drinking lose their time.  
The Watch kept Time; and if Time will away,  
I see no reason why the Watch should stay.  
You say the Key hung out, and you forgot to lock it,  
Time will not be kept prisoner in a Pocket.  
Henceforth if you will keep your Watch, this do,  
Pocket your Watch, and watch your Pocket too.   

A Song, with the Latin to it.  
WHen as the Nightingale chanted her Vesper,  
And the wild Foresters couched on the ground,  
Venus invited me in the Evenings whisper  
Unto a fragrant Field with Roses crowned,  
Where she before had sent her wishes compliment,  
Which to her hearts content played with me on the Green:  
Never Mark Anthony dallied more wantonly  
With the fair Egyptian Queen.  

The Latin.  
CAntu Luscinia somnum ●rritat,  
Salvi vagi sunt in Cubilibus:  
Hoc me silentio Venus invitat,  
Ad viridarium fragrantius;  
Vbi promiserat, qui mentem flexerat  
Gaudia temperat sic mihi solida.  
O non dux Amasius lusit beatius  
Cum Regina Nilotica.    

De Vino & Venere.  
DOte neither on Women, nor on Wine,  
For to thy hurt they both alike incline:  
Venus thy strength, and Bacchus with his sweet  
And pleasant Grape debilitates the feet.  
Blind Love will blab what he in secret did,  
In giddy Wine there's nothing can be hid.  
Seditious wars oft Cupid hath begun,  
Raechus to arms makes men in fury run:  
Venus (unjust) by horrid war lost Troy;  
Bacchus by war the Lapiths did destroy.  
When thou with both or either are possessed,  
Shame, honesty, and fear oft flies thy breast:  
In fetters Venus keep, in gyves Bacchus tye,  
Lest by their free gifts they thee damnify.  
Use Wine for thirst, Venus for lawful Seed;  
To pass these limits, may thy danger breed.   

On Wine.  
HE that with Wine, Wine thinks t'expel,  
One ill would with another quell:  
A Trumpet, with a Trumpet drown:  
Or with the Crier of the Town  
Still a loud man: Noise deaf with noise,  
Or to convert a Bawd, make choice  
Of a Pander: Pride with pride shame thus,  
Or put a Cook down by Calistratus;  
Discord by discord think to case,  
Or any man with scoffs appease:  
So War by Battle to restrain,  
And labour mitigate by pain:  
Command a sudden peace between  
Two shrill Scolds in the height of spleen:  
By Drink to queneh Drink is all one,  
As is by strife, strife to atone.   

A Song called Hyde-park. The tune,  
Honour invites you to delights,  
Come to the Court, and be all made Knights.  

1.  
COme all you noble, you that are neat ones,  
Hyde-park is now both fresh and green:  
Come all you Gallants that are great ones,  
And are desirous to be seen:  
Would you a Wife or Mistress rare,  
Here are the best of England fair:  
Here you may choose, also refuse,  
As you your judgements ple●se to use.   

2.  
Come all you Courtiers in your neat fashions,  
Rich in your new unpaid-for silk:  
Come you brave Wenches, and court your stations,  
Here in the bushes the Maids do milk:  
Come then and revel, the Spring invites  
Beauty and youth for your delights,  
All that are fair, all that are rare,  
You shall have licence to compare.   

3.  
Here the great Ladies all of the Land are,  
Drawn with six Horses at the least:  
Here are all that of the Strand are,  
And to be seen now at the best.  
Westminster-Hall, who is of the Court,  
Unto his place doth now all resort:  
Both high and low here you may know,  
And all do come themselves to show.   

4.  
The Merchant's wives that keep their Coaches,  
Here in the Park do take the air;  
They go abroad to avoid reproaches,  
And hold themselves as Ladies fair:  
For whilst their Husbands gone are to trade  
Unto their ships by Sea or Land:  
Who will not say, why may not they  
Trade, like their own Husbands, in their own way.   

5.  
Here from the Country come the Girls flying  
For husbands, though of parts little worth:  
They at th' Exchange have been buying  
The last new fashion that came forth:  
And are desirous to have it seen,  
As if before it ne'er had been:  
So you may see all that may be  
Had in the Town or Country.   

6.  
Here come the Girls of the rich City.  
Alderman's daughters fair and proud,  
Their Jealous Mothers come t' invite ye,  
For fear they should be losti'th ' crowd:  
Who for their breeding are taught to dance,  
Their birth and fortune to advance:  
And they will be as frolic and free,  
As you yourself expect to see.    

To his coy Mistress.  

1.  
COy one, I say, Be gone,  
My love-days now are done:  
Were thy Brow like Ivory free,  
Yet 'tis more black than Jet to me.   

2.  
Might thy hairy Tress compare  
With Daphne's sporting with the air,  
As it is worse fettered far  
Than th' knotty tuffs of Mandrakes are.   

3.  
Were there in thy squint eyes found  
True native sparks of Diamond;  
As they are duller sure I am,  
Than th' Eye-Lamps of a dying man,   

4.  
Were thy breath a Civet scent,  
Or some purer Element;  
As there's none profess thee love,  
Can touch thy lips without a Glove.   

5.  
Were thy Nose of such a shape,  
As Nature could no better make;  
As it is so skrewed in,  
It claims acquaintance with thy Chin.   

6.  
Were thy Breasts two rising Mounts,  
Those Ruby Nipples milky Founts,  
As these two so fairly move,  
They'd make a Lover freeze for love.   

7.  
Could thy pulse affection beat,  
Thy Palm a balmy moisture sweat;  
As their active vigor's gone,  
Dry and cold as any stone.   

8.  
Were thy arms, legs, feet, and all,  
That we with modesty can call;  
Nay, were they all of such a grace,  
As't might be styled, Love amorous place.   

9  
As all these yield such weak delight,  
They'd fright a Bridegroom the first night:  
And hold it a curse for to be sped  
Of such a fury in his bed.   

10.  
Could thine high improved state,  
Vie with the greatest Potentate:  
As in all their store I find  
Molehills to a noble mind.   

11.  
Wert thou as rich in Beauty's form,  
As thou are held in Nature's scorn:  
I vow these should be none of mine,  
Because they are entitled thine.    

A Dialogue concerning Hair, between A Man and a Woman.  M. 

1.  
ASk me no more why I do wear  
My Hair so far below my ear:  
For the first Man that e'er was made  
Did never know the Barber's Trade,   W. 

2.  
Ask me no more where all the day  
The foolish Owl doth make her stay:  
'Tis in your Locks; for tak'● from me,  
She thinks your hair an Ivy-tree.   M. 

3.  
Tell me no more that length of hair  
Can make the visage seem less fair;  
For howsoe'er my hair doth sit,  
I'm sure that yours comes short of it.   W. 

4.  
Tell me no more men were long hair  
To chase away the colder air;  
For by experience we may see  
Long hair will but a back friend be.   M. 

5.  
Tell me no more that long hair can  
Argue deboistness in a man;  
For 'tis Religious being inclined,  
To save the Temples from the wind.   W. 

6.  
Ask me no more why Roarers wear  
Their hair extant below their ear;  
For having mortgaged all their Land,  
They'd fain oblige the appearing Band.   M. 

7.  
Ask me no more why hair may be  
The expression of Gentility:  
'Tis that which being largely grown,  
Derives its Gentry from the Crown.   W. 

8.  
Ask me no more why grass being grown,  
With greedy Sickle is cut down,  
Till short and sweet: So ends my Song,  
Lest that long hair should grow too long.    

A Song.  

1.  
THat Beauty I adored before,  
I now as much despise:  
'Tis Money only makes the Whore:  
She that for love with her Crony lies,  
●ichaste: But that's the Whore that kisses for pr●●●.   

2.  
Let jove with Gold his Danae woe,  
It shall be no rule for me:  
Nay, ' ● may be I may do so too,  
When I'm as old as he.  
Till than I'll never bire the thing that's free●punc;   

3.  
If Coin must your Affection Imp,  
Pray get some other Friend:  
My Pocket ne'er shall be my Pimp,  
I never that intent,  
Yet can be noble too, if I see they mend.   

4.  
Since Loving was a Liberal Art,  
How canst thou trade for gain?  
The pleasure is on your part,  
'Tis we Men take the pain:  
And being so, must Women have the gain?   

5.  
No, no, I'll never farm your Bed,  
Nor your Smock-Tenant be:  
I hate to rend your white and red,  
You shall not let your Love to me:  
I court a Mistress, not a Landlady.   

6.  
A Pox take him that first set up,  
Th' Excise of Flesh and Skin:  
And since it will no better be,  
Let's both to kiss begin;  
To kiss freely; if not, you may go spin.    

The Careless Swain.  

1.  
IS she gone? let her go; faith Boys, I care not,  
I'll not sue after her, I dare not, I dare not.  
Though she's more Land than I by many an Acre,  
I have ploughed in her ground, who will may take her.   

2.  
She is a witty one, and she is fair too;  
She must have all the Land that she is Heir too:  
But as for Free Land she has not any,  
For hers is Lammas ground, common to many.   

3.  
Were it in Several, '●were a great favour,  
It might be an enriching to him that shall have her:  
But hers is common ground, and without bounding,  
You may graze in her ground, and fear no pounding.    

A Catch for three Voices.  
JAck, Will and Tom are ye come,  
I think there is mirth in your faces:  
How glad I'm to see such Lads all agree  
In tunes and time, and graces.   

A Song.  

1.  
CHloris, when I to thee present  
The cause of all my discontent;  
And show that all the wealth that can  
Flow from this little world of man,  
Is nought but Constancy and Love,  
Why will you other objects prove?   

2.  
O do not cozen your desires  
With common and mechanic fires:  
That picture which you see in gold,  
In every Shop is to be sold,  
And Diamonds of richest prize  
Men only value with their eyes.   

3.  
But look upon my loyal heart,  
That knows to value every part:  
And loves thy hidden virtue more  
Than outward shape, which fools adore:  
In that you'll all the treasures find  
That can content a noble mind.    

The forsaken Maid, A Song.  

1.  
NOr Love, nor Fate dare I accuse,  
For that my Love doth me refuse:  
But O mine own unworthiness,  
That durst presume so great a bliss!  
Too much 'twere for me to love  
A man so like the Gods above,  
With Angel's face, and Saintlike voice,  
'Tis too Divine for Humane choice.   

2.  
But had I wisely given mine heart,  
For to have loved him but in part:  
As only to enjoy his face.  
Or any one peculiar Grace;  
A, foot, or hand, or lip, or eye:  
Then had I lived where now I die.  
But I presuming all to choose,  
Am now condemned all to lose.   

3.  
You Rural Gods that guard the Swains,  
And punish all unjust disdains;  
O do not censure him for this,  
It was my error, and not his.  
This only boon of you I'll crave,  
To fix these Lines upon my Grave:  
Like Icarus, I soared too high,  
For which offence I pine, I die.    

On a Precise Tailor.  
A Tailor, but a man of upright dealing,  
True, but for lying; honest, but for stealing;  
Did fall one day extremely sick by chance,  
And on a sudden fell in a wondrous Trance:  
The Friends of Hell mustering in fearful manner,  
Of sundry coloured Silks displayed a Banner  
Which he had stolen; and wished, as they did tell,  
That he might one day find it all in Hell.  
The man affrighted at this Apparition,  
Upon Recovery grew a great Precisian;  
He bought a Bible of the new Translation,  
And in his Life he showed great Reformation:  
He walked demurely, and he talked meekly,  
He heard two Lectures, and two Sermons weekly:  
He vowed to shun all Company unruly,  
And in his speech he used no Oath but Truly:  
And zealously to help the Sabbaths Rest,  
The Meat for that day on the Eve was dressed:  
And lest the custom that he had to steal,  
Might cause him sometimes to forget his zeal,  
He gives his Journeyman a special charge,  
That if the Stuff allowed fell out to large,  
And that to filch his fingers were inclined,  
He then should put the Banner in his mind.  
This done, I scarce can tell the rest for laughter,  
A Captain of a Ship came three days after,  
And bought three yards of Velvet & three quarters,  
To make his Vest so large to hang below his garters,  
He that precisely knew what was enough,  
Soon slip● away a quarter of the Stust:  
His man espying it, said in derision,  
Remember, Master, how you saw the Vision.  
Peace, Fool, quoth he, I did not see one rag  
Of such like coloured Stuff within the Flag.   

The Scotch Girls Complaint for an Englishmans going away, when my Lord Monk came for England.  

1.  
ILl tie this cruel Peace that hath gained a War on me,  
I never fancied Laddy till I saw mine Enemy:  
O methoughts he was the bl●●hest one  
That e'er I set mine eyes upon:  
Well might have fooled a wiser one,  
As he did me:  
He looked so pretty, and talked so witty,  
None could deny,  
But needs must yield the Fort up,  
Good faith, and so did I.   

2.  
Tantara went the Trumpets, and straight we were in Arms,  
We dreaded no Invasions, Embrances were our Charms.  
As we close to one another sit,  
Did according to our Mother's wit,  
But hardly now can smother it,  
It will be known,  
Alack and welly, sick back and belly,  
Never was Maid,  
A Soldier is a coming, though young,  
Makes me afraid.   

3.  
To England bear this Sonnet, direct it unto none,  
But to the brave Monk-Heroes, both sigh and singing moan:  
Some there are perhaps will take my part,  
At his bosom Cupid shake his dart,  
That from me he ne'er may part,  
That is mine own:  
O mayst thou never wear Bow and Quiver,  
Till I may see  
Once more the happy feature  
Of my loved Enemy.    

On Fairford curious Church-Windows, which scaped the War and the Puritan.  
TEll me, you Anti-Saints, why Glass  
To you is longer lived than Bras●;  
And why the Saints have scaped their falls  
Better on Windows than on Walls?  
Is it because the Brother's fires  
Maintain a Glass-house at Blackfriers?  
Next, why the Church stands North and South,  
And East and West the Preachers mouth?  
Or is't because such painted ware  
Resembles something what you are?  
So pied, so seeming, so unsound  
In Doctrine and in Manners found,  
That out of Emblematic wit  
You spare yourselves in sparing it?  
If it be so, then Fairford boast,  
Thy Church hath kept what all hath lost:  
It is preserved from the bane  
Of either War or Puritan;  
Whose Life is coloured in thy Paint,  
The inside Dross, but outside Saint.   

The Soldiers praise of a Louse.  

1.  
WIll you please to hear a new Ditty,  
In praise of a six footed Creature:  
She lives both in Country and City,  
She's wondrous loving by nature.   

2.  
She'll proffer her service to any,  
She'll stick close but she will prevail:  
She is entertained by many,  
Till death no Master she'll fail.   

3.  
Your rich men she cannot endure,  
Nor can she your shifter abide:  
But still she sticks close to the poor,  
Though often they claw her hide.   

4.  
The nonsuited man she'll woe him,  
Or any good fellows that lack:  
She will be as nigh a friend to him  
As the shirt that sticks to his back.   

5.  
Your neat Landress she perfectly hates,  
And those that do set her a-work:  
And still in foul Linen delights,  
That she in the seams on't may lurk.   

6.  
Corruption she draws like a Horseleech,  
Being big, she grows a great breeder:  
At night she goes home to her Cottage,  
And in the day is a devilish feeder.   

7.  
To Commanders and Soldiers in purging  
I'm sure her Receipts are good:  
For she saves them the charge of a Surgeon  
In sucking and letting of blood.   

8.  
She'll venture in a Battle as far  
As any Commander that goes:  
She'll play jack a both sides in war,  
And cares not a pin for her foes.   

9  
She's always shot-free in fight,  
To kill her no Sword will prevail:  
And if took Prisoner by flight,  
She's crushed to death with a Nail.   

10.  
From her and her breed jove defend us  
For her company we have had store:  
Let her go to the Court and the Gentry,  
And trouble poor Soldiers no more.    

A Song.  

S  
Methought the other night  
I saw a pretty sight  
That moved me much:  
A fair and comely Maid  
Not squeamish nor afraid  
To let me touch.  
Our lips most sweetly kissing  
Each other never missing:  
Her smiling look did show content,  
That she did nought but what she meant.   

2.  
And as our lips did move,  
The Echo still was Love,  
Love, love me sweet.  
Then with a Maiden blush,  
Instead of crying Push,  
Our lips did meet:  
With Music sweet by sounding,  
And Pleasures all abounding,  
We kept the Burden of the Song,  
Which was, That Love should take no wrong.    

A Song.  

1.  
O My dearest, I shall grieve thee  
When I swear, yet Sweet believe me.  
By thine eye, that Crystal Book  
In which all crabbed old men look,  
I swear to thee, though none abhor them,  
Yet I do not love thee for them.   

2.  
I do not love thee for that fair  
Rich Fan of thy most curious Hair:  
Though the wires thereof are drawn  
Finer than the threads of Lawn,  
And are softer than the sleeves  
Which the subtle Spinner weaves.   

3.  
I do not love thee for those flowers  
Growing on thy Cheeks, Loves Bowers;  
Though such cunning them hath spread,  
None can part their white and red:  
Loves golden Arrows there are shot,  
Yet for them I love thee not.   

4.  
I do not love thee for those sof●  
Red Coral Lips I've kissed so oft,  
Nor teeth of Pearl, though double reared  
To speech, where Music still is heard,  
Though from thence a kiss being taken,  
Would Tyrants melt, and death awaken.   

5.  
I do not love thee, O my Fairest,  
For that richest, for that rarest  
Silver Pillar which stands under  
Thy lovely Head, that Glass of wonder:  
Though thy Neck be whiter far  
Than Towers of polished Ivory are.   

6.  
Nor do I love thee for those Mountains  
Hid with Snow, whence Nectar Fountains  
Sug'red sweet, and Syrup-berry,  
Must one day run through Pipes of Cherry:  
O how much those Breasts do move me●  
Yet for these I do not love thee.   

7.  
I do not love thee for thy Palm,  
Though the dew thereof be Balm:  
Nor thy curious Leg and Foot,  
Although it be a precious Root  
Whereon this stately Cedar grows:  
Sweet I love thee not for those.   

8.  
Nor for thy wit so pure and quick,  
Whose substance no Arithmetic  
Can number down: Nor for the charms  
Thou mak'st with embracing arms;  
Though in them one night to lie,  
Dearest I would gladly die.   

9  
I love the not for eyes nor hair,  
Nor lips, nor teeth that are so rare;  
Nor for thy neck, nor for thy breasts,  
Nor for thy belly, nor the rest:  
Nor for thy hand, nor foot, nor small,  
But wouldst thou know, dear sweet, for all.    

An old Song on the Spanish Armado.  

2.  
SOme years of late in eighty eight,  
As I do well remember,  
It was some say, nineteenth of May,  
And some say in September,  
And some say in September.   

The Spanish train, launched forth amain,  
With many a fine bravado  
Their (as they thought) but it proved not,  
Invincible Armado,  
Invincible Armado.   

3.  
There was a little man that dwelled in Spain,  
Who shot well in a Gun a,  
Don Pedro height, as black a wight  
As the Knight of the Sun a,  
As the Knight of the Sun a.   

4.  
King Philip made him Admiral,  
And bid him not to stay a  
But to destroy, both man and boy,  
And so to come away a,  
And so to come away a.   

5.  
Their Navy was well victualled  
With Biscuit, Pease, and Bacon,  
They brought two Ships, well fraught with Whips,  
But I think they were mistaken.  
But I think they were mistaken.   

6.  
There men were young, Munition strong,  
And to do us more harm a,  
They thought it meet to join their Fleet,  
All with the Prince of Parma.  
All with the Prince of Parma.   

7.  
They coasted round about our Land,  
And so came in by Dover:  
But we had men set on'um then,  
And threw the Rascals over,  
And threw the Rascals over.   

8.  
The Queen was then at Tilbury,  
What could me more desire a,  
And Sir Francis Drake for her sweet sake,  
Did set them all on fire a,  
Did set them all on fire a.   

9  
Then straight they fled by Sea and Land,  
That one man killed threescore a;  
And had nor they all ran away,  
In truth he had killed more a,  
In truth he had killed more a.   

10.  
Then let them neither brag nor boast,  
But if they come again a,  
Let them take heed, they do not speed,  
As they did you know when a,  
As they did you know when a.    

The Loyal Prisoner.  

1.  
BEat on proud Billows, Boreas' blow,  
Swell curled waves high as Ioves roof:  
Your incivility shall show,  
That innocence is Tempest proof:  
Though furious Nero's frown, my thoughts are calm,  
Then strike affliction, for your wounds are balm.   

2.  
That which the world miscalls a Jail,  
A private Closet is to me,  
Whilst a good Conscience is my bail,  
And innocence my liberty:  
Locks, Bars, and Solitude together met.  
Makes me no Prisoner, but an Anchoret.   

3.  
And whilst I wish to be retired  
Into this private room was turned;  
As if their wisdoms had conspired  
The Sallam under should be burned:  
Or like those Sophies, which would drown a fish,  
I am condemned to suffer what I wish.   

4.  
The Cynic hugs his poverty,  
The Pelican her Wilderness:  
And ' 〈◊〉 the Indians pride to be  
Naked on frozen Caucasus.  
Contentment cannot smart, Stoics we see,  
Make torments easy to their Apathy.   

5.  
I'm in this Cabinet locked up,  
Like some high prized Margerite:  
Or like some great Mogul or Pope,  
Am cloistered up from public, sight:  
Retiredness is a piece of Majesty;  
And thus proud Sultan, I'm as great as thee.   

6.  
These Manacles about my arms,  
I as my Mistress Favours wear:  
And for to keep my ankles warm,  
I have some iron Shackles there:  
These walls are but my Garrison, my Cell,  
What men call jail, doth prove my Citadel.   

7.  
So he that stroke at jasons' life,  
Thinking to have made his purpose sure,  
With a malicious friendly knife,  
Was only wounded to a cure.  
Malice, I see, wants wit; for what is meant  
Mischief ofttimes proves favours by th' event.   

8.  
What though I cannot see my King,  
Neither in's Person, nor his Coin:  
Yet Contemplation is a thing  
Which renders what I have not mine:  
My King from me what Adamants can part,  
Whom I do wear engraven on my heart?   

9  
Have you not seen the Nightingale  
A prisoner like, cooped in a Cage?  
How she doth chant her wont tale,  
In that her narrow Hermita●?  
Even than her Melody doth plainly prove,  
That her Boughs are Trees, her Cage a Grove.   

10.  
I am that Bird whom they combine  
Thus to deprive of liberty:  
Although they see my Corpse confined,  
Yet maugre hate, my soul is free.  
Although I'm mewed, yet I can chirp and sing,  
Disgrace to Rebels, Glory to my King.    

On his first Love.  
MY first Love whom all beauty did adorn,  
Firing my heart, suppressed it with her scorn,  
And since like Tinder in my breast it lies,  
By every sparkle made a Sacrifice:  
Each wanton eye, now kindles my desire,  
And that is now to all, which was entire:  
For now my wanton thoughts are not confined  
Unto a woman, but to woman kind:  
This for her shape I love, that for her face,  
This for her gesture, or some other grace:  
And sometimes when I none of these can find,  
I choose them by the kernel, not the rind;  
And so do hope, though my chief hope be gone,  
To find in many what I lost in one.  
She is in fault which caused me first to stray,  
Needs must he wander which hath lost his way:  
Guildess I am, she did this change provoke,  
And made that Charcoal, which at first was Oak:  
For as a Looking-glass to the aspect,  
Whilst it is whole, doth but one face reflect;  
But cracked and broken in pieces, there are shown  
Many false faces where first was but one:  
So love into my heart did first prefer  
Her Image, and there plan●ed none but her:  
But when 'twas cracked and martyred by her scorn,  
Many less faces in her sea● were born:  
Thus like to Tinder, I am prone to catch  
Each falling sparkle, fit for any match.   

On his Mistrist going to Sea.  
FArewel, fair Saint, may not the seas and wind  
Swell like the heart and eyes you left behind:  
But calm and gentle, like the looks they bear,  
Smile in your face, and whisper in your car:  
L●t no foul billow offer to arise,  
That it might nearer look upon your eyes;  
Lest Wind and Waves enamoured with such form,  
Should throng and crowd themselves into a storm.  
But if it be your fate, vast Seas, to love,  
Of my becalmed heart learn how to move:  
Move then but in a gentle Lover's pace,  
No wrinkles, nor no furrows in your face;  
And you sicrce winds, see that you tell your tale  
In such a breath as may but fill her sail:  
So while you court her each a several way,  
You will her safely to her Port convey,  
And lose her in a noble way of wooing,  
Whilst both contribute to her own undoing.   

On a Blush.  
STay lusty blood, where wilt thou seek  
So blest a place as in her cheek?  
How canst thou from that cheek retire,  
Where virtue doth command desire?  
But if thou canst not stay, then flow  
Down to her panting paps below;  
Flow like a Deluge from her breasts,  
Where Venus Swans have built their Nests;  
And so take glory to bestain  
With azure blue each swelling Vein:  
Then boiling, run through every part,  
Till thou hast warmed her frozen heart:  
And if from love it would retire,  
Then Martyr it with gentle sire:  
And having searched each secret place,  
Fly thou back into her face:  
Where live thou blest in changing those  
White Lilies to a ruddy Rose.   

In praise of a Mask.  
THere is not half so warm a fire  
In fruition as desire:  
When we have got the fruit of pain,  
Possession makes us poor again.  
Expected form and shape unknown,  
Whets and makes sharp temptation:  
Sense is too niggardly for bliss,  
And daily pays us with what is.  
But ignorance doth give us all  
That can within her brightness fall.  
Veil therefore still, whilst I divine  
The riches of that hidden Mine;  
And make imagination tell  
All wealth that can in beauty dwell.  
Thus the highly valued Oar,  
Earth's dark Exchequer keeps in store:  
And searched in secret, only quits  
The travel of the hands and wits;  
Who dates to ransack all the hoards,  
That Nature's privy Purso affords.  
Our eye the apprehensions Thief,  
Blinds our unlimited belief.  
When we see all, we nothing see,  
Disclosure may prove Robbery.  
For if you shine not, fairest, be●ug shown,  
I pick a Cabinet for a Bristol Stone.   

Excuse for Absence.  
YOu'll ask, perhaps, wherefore I stay,  
Loving so much, so long away?  
Do not think 'twas I did part;  
It was my body, not my heart:  
For, like a Compass, in your love  
One Foot is sixth that cannot move:  
To ' other may follow the blind guide  
Of giddy Fortune, but not slide  
Beyond your Service; nor dares venture  
To wander far from you the Centre.   

To his Mistress.  
KEep on your Mask, and hide your eye,  
For with beholding it I die,  
Your fatal Beauty, Gorgonlike,  
Dead with astonishment doth strike:  
Your piercing eyes, if them I see,  
Are worse than Basilisks to me.  
Shut from mine eyes those hills of Snow,  
Their melting Valley do not show;  
Those Azure paths lead to despair.  
O vex me ●ot, forbear, forbear:  
For whilst I thus in torment dwell,  
The sight of Heaven is worse than Hell.  
Your dainty voice, and warbling breath,  
Sound like a Sentence passed for death:  
Your dangling Tresses are become  
The instruments of final doom;  
O if an Angel torture so  
When life is done, what shall I do?   

To his Mistress.  
I'Ll tell you how the Rose did first grow red,  
And whence the Lily whiteness borrowed:  
You blushed, and then the Rose with red was dight;  
The Lily kissed your hand, and so came white.  
Before that time each Rose had but a stain,  
The Lily nought but paleness did contain:  
You have the native colour, those the dye,  
They flourish only in your eye.   

HIc jacet John Shorthose  
Sine hose, sine shoes, sine breeches,  
Qui fuit dum vixit, sine goods,  
Sine lands, sine riches.   

On his Mistress.  
IS she not wondrous fair? O but I see  
She is so much too sweet, too fair for me,  
That I forget my flames, and every fi●e  
Hath taught me not to love, but to admire:  
Just like the Sun, methinks I see her face,  
Which I should gaze on still, but not embrace;  
For 'tis Heaven's pleasure that she should be sent  
As pure to Heaven again, as she was lent  
To us: And bid us, as we hope for bliss,  
Not to profane her with a mortal kiss.  
Then how cold grows my Love, and I how hot?  
O how I love her, how I love her not!  
So doth my Ague-love torment by turns,  
And now it freezeth, now again it burns.   

A Sigh.  
GO thou gentle whispering ' Wind,  
Bear this Sigh, and if you find  
Where my cruel Fair doth rest,  
Cast it in her snowy Breast:  
The sweet Kisses thou shalt gain,  
Will reward thee for thy pain.  
Taste her lips, and then confess,  
If Arabia doth possess  
Or the Hybla honoured hill,  
Sweets like those that there distil.  
Having got so, with a fee  
Do another boon for me:  
Thou canst with thy powerful blast  
Heat apace, and cool as fast:  
Then for pity either stir  
Up the fire of Love in her,  
That alike both slames may shine,  
Or else quite extinguish mine.   

To a spruce and very finely decked Lady.  

2.  
STill to be neat, still to be dressed,  
As if you were going to a feast▪  
Still to be powdered, still perfumed,  
Lady, it is to be presumed,  
Though Arts hid causes are not found,  
All is not sweet, all is not sound.   

2.  
Give me a look, give me a face,  
That makes simplicity a grace;  
Robes largely slowing, hairs as free;  
Such sweet neglect more taketh me  
Than all th' Adulteries of Art:  
They please my eye, but not my heart.    

The Good Fellows Song.  

1.  
AS we went wand'ring all the night,  
The Brewer's Dog our brains did bi●e,  
Our Heads grew heavy, and our Heels grew light,  
And we like our humour well boys,  
And we like our humour well.   

2.  
Our Hostess then bid us pay her Sc●re,  
We called her Whore, and we paid her no more,  
And we kicked our Hostess out of the door,  
And we like our humour well boys,  
And we like our humour well.   

3.  
And as we went wand'ring in the Street,  
We trod the Kennels under our feet,  
And fought with every Post we did meet,  
And we like our humour well boys.  
And we like our humour well.   

4.  
The Constable then with his staff and band,  
He bid us if we were men to stand,  
We told him he bid us do more than we can,  
And we like our humour well boys,  
And we like our humour well.   

5.  
Our Hostess' Cellar it is our bed,  
Upon the Barrels we lay our head,  
The night is our own, for the Devil is dead,  
And we like our humour well boys,  
And we like our humour well,    

Upon Fasting.  
THe poor man fasts, because he has no meat;  
The sick man fasts, because he cannot eat:  
The Usurer fasts, to increase his store:  
The Glutton fasts, 'cause he can eat no more;  
The Hypocrite, because he'd be commended:  
The Saints do fast, because they have offended.  
ONe wished me to a Wife that's fair and young,  
That hath French, Spanish, and Italian tongue:  
I thanked him, but yet I'll have none of such;  
For I think one tongue for a Maid's too much:  
What, love you not the Learned? yes as my life.  
The learned Scholar, but the unlearned Wife.   

On a Lover that would not be beloved again.  

DIsdain me still, that I may ever love,  
For who his love enjoys, can love no more:  
The War once past, with peace men cowards prove,  
The ships returned do rot upon the shore,  
Then frown though I say thou art m●st fair,  
And still I love thee, though I still despair.   

As heat to life, so is desire to love,  
For these once quenched, both life and love are done:  
Let not my sighs and tears thy virtues move  
Like basest Metal do not melt so soon,  
Laugh at my woes although I ever mourn,  
Love surfeits with rewards, his Nurse is scorn.    

A Rural Song.  

1.  
COme Lads and Lasses, each one that passes,  
Dance a round on the ground  
Whilst green the grass is.  
For if you'll ever, with mirth endeavour  
With heart and voice, rejoice,  
Come now or never:  
For the blind Boy Love was caught and betrayed  
In the Trap that was laid  
For the poor silly Maid.   

2.  
Now here, now yonder, with Goose and Gander,  
With your Ducks, Hens, and Cocks,  
Safe may you wander,  
Securely may you go, to the Market to and fro,  
john and jone all a-row,  
And never fear the foe,  
For the blind Boy Love was caught and betrayed  
In the Trap that was laid  
For the poor silly Maid.   

3.  
Sweetest come hither, let us thither,  
Where we'll court, and there sport  
Freely together.  
We'll enjoy kisses, with other blisses,  
So come home, when we have done,  
And none shall miss us.  
For the blind Boy Love was caught and betrayed  
In the Trap that was laid,  
For the poor silly Maid.   

4.  
Over you Bower; jove seems to lower,  
As he meant to prevent  
Our happiest hour:  
But the times treasure, giving us leisure  
In spite of jove, for to prove  
Our chiefest pleasure.  
For the blind Boy Love was caught and betrayed  
In the Trap that was laid,  
For the poor silly Maid.    

A Scotch Song, called Gilderoy.  

1.  
WAS ever grief so great as mine,  
Then speak dear Bearn, I prithee,  
That thus must leave my Gilderoy,  
O my Benison gang with thee.  
Good speed be with you then Sir, she said,  
For gone is all my joy:  
And gone is he whom I love best,  
My handsome Gilderoy.   

2.  
In muckle joy we spent our time  
Till we were both fifteen,  
Then wantonly he ligged me down,  
And amongst the B●akes so green.  
When he had done what man could do,  
He rose up and ganged his way:  
I gate my Goon, and I followed him,  
My handsome Gilderoy.   

3.  
Now Gilderoy was a bonny Boy,  
Would needs toth' King be gone,  
With his silken Garters on his legs,  
And the Roses on his shoes:  
But better he had stayed at home  
With me his only joy,  
For on a Gallow-tree they hung  
My handsome Gilderoy.   

4.  
When they had ta'en this lad so strong,  
Good Lord how sore they bound him,  
They carried him to Edenb'rough Town,  
And there God wot they hung him:  
They knit him fast above the rest,  
And I lost my only joy,  
For evermore my Benison  
Gang with my Gilderoy.   

5.  
woe worth that man that made those Laws,  
To hang a man for genee,  
For neither stealing Ox nor Ass,  
Or bony Horse or Mere:  
Had not their Laws a been so strict,  
I might have got my joy:  
And ne'er had need tull a wat my check  
For my dear Gilderoy.    

A Song to his Mistress.  

1.  
I Will not do a Sacrifice  
To thy face or to thy eyes:  
Nor unto thy Lily palm,  
Nor thy breath that wounding balm:  
But the part to which my heart  
In vows is sealed,  
Is that Mine of Bliss Divine  
Which is concealed.   

2.  
What's the Golden fruit to me,  
If I may not pluck the Tree:  
Bare enjoying all the rest,  
Is but like a golden Feast,  
Which at need can never feed  
Our lovesick wishes:  
Let me eat substantial meat,  
Not view the dishes.    

The Advice.  

PHyllis for shame, let us improve  
A thousand several ways,  
These few short minutes stolen by love  
From many tedious days.   

Whilst you want courage to despise  
The censure of the Grave:  
For all the Tyrants in your eyes,  
Your heart is but a slave.   

My love is full of noble pride,  
And never will submit  
To let that Fop Discretion ride  
In triumph over Wit.  
False Friends I have as well you,  
That daily counsel me  
Vain friv'lous trifles to pursue,  
And leave off loving thee.   

When I the least belief bestow  
On what such fools advise,  
May I be dull enough to grow  
Most miserably wise.    

A Vision.  

BEneath a Myrtle shade  
Which jove for none but happy Lovers made,  
I slept, and straight my Love before me brought,  
Phillis the object of my waking thought,  
Undressed she came my flames to meet,  
Whilst Love strewed flowers beneath her feet:  
Flowers that so pressed by her became more sweet.   

From the bright Visions head,  
A careless vail of Lawn was Loosely spread:  
From her white shoulders fell her shaded hair,  
Like cloudy Sunshine, nor too brown nor fair:  
Her hands, her lips did love inspire,  
Her every part my heart did fire:  
But most her eyes, that languished with desire.   

Ah charming Fair, said I,  
How long will you my bliss and yours deny?  
By nature and by jove this lonesome Shade  
Was for revenge of suffering Lovers made:  
Silence and Shades with Love agree,  
Both shelter you, and favour me;  
You cannot blush, because I cannot see,   

No, let me die, she said,  
Rather than lose the spotless name of Maid:  
Faintly she spoke methought, for all the while  
She bid me not believe her with a smile.  
Then die, said I: She still denied:  
And is it thus, thus, thus, she cried,  
You use a harmless Maid? And so she died.   

I waked, and strait I knew  
I loved so well, it made my Dream prove true.  
Fancy the kinder Mistress of the two,  
Fancy had done what Phillis would not do.  
Ah cruel Nymph, cease your disdain,  
While I can dream you scorn in vain:  
Asleep or waking you must ease my pain.    

The Bachelors Song.  

LIke a Dog with a Bottle fast tied to his Tail,  
Like a Vermin in a Trap, or a Thief in a Jail,  
Like a Tory in a Bog,  
Or an Ape with a Clog,  
Even such is the man, who when he may go free,  
Does his Liberty lose  
In a Matrimony Noose,  
And sells himself into Captivity.   

The Dog he doth howl when the Bottle doth jog,  
The Vermin, the Thief, and the Tory in vain  
Of the Trap, of the Jail, of the Quagmire complain,  
But well fare poor Pug,  
For he plays with his Clog;  
And though he would be rid on't rather than his life,  
Yet he hugs it and tugs it as a Man does his Wife.    

The Bachelor's satire re●orted.  

1.  
LIke a Dog that runs madding at Sheep or at Cows,  
Like a Boar that runs brumling after the Sows,  
Like a Jade full of Rancour,  
Or a Ship without Anchor,  
Such is the Libertine whom sense invites  
To spend his leisures  
In recoiling pleasures,  
And prefers Looseness unto Hymen's Rites:  
Whereas that honest Tedder holds  
The Dog from ranging to the Folds;  
And the soft tie of sixth desire,  
Keeps men from that Boarish mire;  
The Bit and Reins  
The Horse restrains,  
And th' Anchor saves  
The Ship from Waves  
Vermin indeed are oft deservedly caught  
In their own Traps,  
Venereous Claps,  
Which Health and Wealth and Conscience dearly bought.   

2.  
Those Felons of themselves are their own Jails,  
And by stolen Pleasure do their sin entail;  
Such wand'ring Tories in unknown Bogs,  
And busy Urchins are ensafed by Clogs:  
But well fare that Bird,  
That sweetly is heard  
To sing in the contented Cage,  
Secure from fears,  
And all the snares  
Of a Licentious and trepanning Age,  
Passing a calm harmonious Life,  
Just like an honest Man and Wife.    

A Reply to the Bachelor's satire retorted.  

LIke a Cat with her Tail fast held by a Peg,  
Like a Hog that gruntles when he's tied by the leg,  
Like a galled Horse in a Pound,  
Or a Ship run a ground:  
Such is the Man, who tied in a Nuptial Noose,  
With the proud Stoic, brags  
Of his Patches, and his Rags  
And rails at looseness, yet would fain get loose,   

Whereas the Cat, not knowing who vexed her,  
Tooth and nail assaults the thing that is next her;  
And the soft tye of fixed desire  
Binds the Hog to the Paradise of his dear Mire:  
The Horse frisks about,  
But cannot get out;  
And the Anchor gives way  
To the boisterous Sea.  
Husbands indeed are oft deservedly caught  
In their own Traps,  
By others Claps,  
Or Midwives, Nurses, Cradles dearly bout.   

These Felons to themselves are their own Jail:  
Some on the Parish do their Bratsentail,  
Like Tories from their Wives and Children run,  
Designing but to Do, and be Undone:  
Or else like Hedgehogs under Crabtrees roll,  
To bring home to their Drabs  
A burden of Crabs,  
And then retire to their Hole.   

But well fare the Owl,  
Of all feathered Fowl,  
That in the contented Ivy-bush sings;  
She dodders all day,  
While the little birds play,  
And at midnight she flutters her wings,  
Hooting out her mopish discontented Life,  
Just like and honest man and Wife,    

On a Wedding.  
HOw pleasant a thing, were a Wedding,  
And a Bedding?  
If a Man could purchase a Wife  
For a twelvemonth and a day:  
But to live with her all a man's life,  
For ever and for ay,  
Till she grows as grey as a Cat:  
Good faith, Mr. Parson, excuse me for that.   

The Answer.  

HOw honest a thing is a Wedding,  
And a Bedding?  
If a man but make choice of a virtuous Wife,  
To live with for ay,  
Not a month and a day,  
But to love and to cherish all days of his life,  
Till both are grown grave, rich, fruitful, and fat:  
Good sooth (Sir) there needs no excuses for that.   

And thus against all Sirens safely stands  
The wise Ulysles tied with Nuptial Bands.    

Upon His Majesty's Picture drawn by a Fair Lady.  

YOur hand with Nature at a noble strife,  
Hath paid our Sovereign a great share of Life.  
Strange fate! that Charles did ne'er more firmly stand,  
Then when twice rescued by a female hand.  
Fair Voucher of the Royal Head, which we owe  
Though first to Madam Lane, yet next to you.  
But here your glory much doth hers outvie,  
She used disguise, you use discovery:  
And sure there's not so much of Honour shown  
To save by hiding, as by making known:  
Yet hence for you the odds do higher lie,  
She saved from Death, you from Mortality;  
Who in despite of fate can give reprieve,  
And in this deathless Image make him live.  
Warwick's great worth must quit the leaves of same,  
There never was a make-●ing till you came.  
Had Shiva's Queen known thus, she need not roam,  
She had seen the Learned Monarch nearer home.  
O how Vandike would fret himself, by you  
Baffled at once in th' Art and Object too!  
Nature herself amazed, doth scarce yet know  
For certain, whether, she drew both, or you:  
And we, seeing so much life in th' Image shown,  
Fear lest it speak, and lay a Claim to th' Crown.  
And th' vulgar apt to a more gross mistake,  
Should Charles but for his Pictures Picture take.  
Who knows what harm might from your pencil come  
If Painting had not been an Art that's dumb.  
W●r●'sters strict search had ceased, did Cromwell know  
How much of Charles your hand could to him show;  
And the great Rebel would contented be  
To have him murdered in this Effigy;  
Wherein he doth so much himself appear,  
I am i'th' Presence whilst I spy him here.  
His Crown he may from others hands receive,  
But only you Charles to himself could give.  
To be thus lively drawn, is th' only thing  
Could almost make me wish myself a King.   

Go on, Fair Hand, and by a nobler Art  
Make Charles a Prince complete in every part:  
And to the world this rare example show,  
You can make Kings, and get them Subjects too,    
FINIS.   

Westminster Drollery, THE SECOND PART; BEING A Complete Collection of all the Newest and Choicest SONGS and POEMS at COURT and both the theatres.  
By the Author of the FIRST PART, never Printed before.  
LONDON, Printed for William Gilbert at the Half-Moon in 〈…〉   

These to his honoured Friend, the Author of this Book, upon his WESTMINSTER DROLLERY.  
HAving perused your Book, I there do find  
The footsteps of a most Ingenious mind;  
Which (traceing) I ne'er left, until I came  
Unto the knowledge of the Author's Name;  
Which having understood, I needs must show  
That due respect I to your Lines do owe.  
How easy is it for a man to know  
Those Songs you made, from those Collected too?  
Yours like Rich Viands on a Table set,  
Invites all Palates for to taste and eat;  
T●' others but garnish are, which only serve  
To feed a hungry stomach, lest it starve;  
Yours like the Sun, when he displays his face,  
Obscures, and darkens Stars of meaner Race:  
So Sir, in every thing you so transcend,  
That I could wish your Drolleries no end:  
But lest my youthful Poetry should stray  
From their intentions, and so lose their way,  
I'll wish your fame may be as amply known  
As he desires, who speaks himself your own.  Ric: Mangic  

WESTMINSTER DROLLERY.  

The late Song at the Duke's House.  

SInce we poor slavish women know  
Our men we cannot pick and choose,  
To him we like, why say we no?  
We both our time and labour lose:  
By our put offs, and fond delays,  
A Lover's Appetite we palls;  
And if too long the Gallant stays,  
His stomach's gone for good and all.   

Or our impatient Amorous guest  
Unknown to us away may steal,  
And rather than stay for a feast  
Take up with some course ready meal.  
When opportunity is kind,  
Let prudent women be so too;  
And if a man be to her mind,  
Till, till,— she must not let him go.   

The match soon made is happy still,  
For only love, 'tis best to do  
For none should marry against their will,  
But stand off when their Parent's woe,  
And only to their Suits be coy;  
For she whom Jointures can obtain  
To let a Fop her bed enjoy,  
Is but a lawful wench for gain.    

A late Song called The Resolute Gallant for a second Trial.  

HOw hard a fate have I that must expire  
By sudden sparkles Love hath blown to fire:  
No pain like mine, 'cause fed with discontent,  
Not knowing how these flames I may prevent.   

Lucinda's eyes affection have compelled,  
And ever since in thraldom I have dwelled;  
Yet which is more, s●● who's my sole delight  
Belongs unto another man by right.   

What though she do? bear up dejected mind,  
She that is faired doth seldom prove unkind;  
She may be so, I'll put it to a venture;  
Who tries no Circle, may mistake the Centre.   

For joys themselves are only tr●e when tried,  
Fruition is the comfort of a Bride;  
And how can he enjoy that ne'er doth try  
But is dishearted with a Female fie?   

(When known to most) they willingly resign  
What they do seem as willing to decline,  
Why then should I desist, I'll try again,  
They 'steeme the valiant lover the best of men.    

The Subtle Girl well fitted. The Tune The New Boxy.  

Prithee Cloris tell me how  
I've been to thee Disloyal;  
In love thou knowst who makes a vow,  
'Tis only but on trial:  
For had I found, thy grace's sound,  
Which first I did discover,  
There's none should be more kind to thee,  
Or half so true a Lover.   

2.  
I vowed 'tis true, I'll tell you how,  
With mental reservation,  
To try if thou wouldst keep thy vow,  
And find thine Inclination;  
But when I saw thou didst withdraw  
Thy faith from me to changing,  
Why shouldst thou blame me for the same  
To take my swing in ranging.   

3.  
No Cloris know, the knack I've found  
Of this thy feigned passion,  
Thou know'st my elder brother's drowned  
And chinks with me in fashion;  
And likewise know, I've made a vow  
To one did ne'er deceive me  
Who in the worst of times she durst  
Both visit and relieve me.   

4.  
Then farewell Cloris false and fair,  
And like thee every woman,  
Nor more will wear thy lock of hair,  
Thy favours now are common;  
But I will wear Aminta dear  
Within my heart for ever,  
Whose fair and kind, and constant mind,  
To cherish I'll endeavour.    

The New Scotch Song.  
SIt ' that ' do'on be me, mine awn sweet joy,  
Thouse quite kill me suedst thou prove coy,  
Suedst thou prove coy, and not loove me.  
Where shall I fiend sike a can as thee.  

2.  
Is'e been at Week, and Is'e been at Fair,  
Yet near could I find can with thee to compare;  
Oft have I sought, yet ne'er could I find  
Ean I looved like thee, ' gen you prove kind.   

3.  
Thou'se ha' a gay goone, an gea fine,  
With brave buskins thy feet shall shine,  
With the finest sloores thy head shall be crowned,  
An thy pink-patticoat shall be laced round.   

4.  
Wee'se gang early to the brook side,  
Wee'se catch fishes as they do glide,  
Every little fish thy prisoner shall be,  
Thou'fe catch them, a I'll catch thee.   

5.  
Coomes lat me kiss thy cherry Lip, an praise  
Aw the features, a thy sweet face,  
Thy forehead so smooth and lofty doth rise,  
Thy soft ruddy cheeks, and thy pretty black eyes.   

6.  
Ise lig by thee all the caw'd niete,  
‛ Thou's● want neathing for thy deleete;  
Thouse ha' any thing, thouse ha me,  
Sure I ha' soom thing that'le please thee.    

The Answer to the Scotch Song, and to that Tune.  

1.  
SIbby cries to the wood, coom follow me,  
●or I'se have a fiene thing my Billy for thee,  
It i like a thing which I must not tell,  
Yet I ken Billy thou'se love it well.   

2.  
Billy cries, wa is me, and sight vary sear  
Cause to his Sibby he could not come near,  
At last he tald her with many a green  
Ice cannot follow Sibby for meerter and steane.   

3.  
Thou ken'st Billy, Is'e loove thee we'll,  
And for thy Love my Patticoat waed sell;  
I'll loove thee dearly we'll as mine ean mother,  
Thou'se pull down ean side, & I'll pull down t'other.   

4.  
Sibby ganged to the Wail to pull it done,  
Billy ean the ten side came there as soon;  
Then she pulled done the steane, & Billy the meerter,  
That of his ●●atty Sibby he might be the Peerter.    

The rejected Lover to his Mistress.  

1.  
WHat means this strangeness now of late,  
Since time doth truth approve,  
Such difference may consist with state,  
In cannot stand with love.   

2.  
'Tis either cunning or distrust,  
Doth such ways allow;  
The first is base, the last unjust,  
Let neither blemish you.   

3.  
Explain with unsuspitious looks  
The Riddles of your mind,  
The eyes are Cupid's fortune Books,  
Where love his fate may find.   

4.  
If kindness cross your wished content,  
Dismiss it with a frown,  
I'll give thee all the love is spent,  
The rest shall be my own.    

The Prologue to Wit without money: being the first Play acted after the Fire.  
SO shipwrackt Passengers escape to land,  
So look they, when on bare Beach they stand,  
Dropping and cold; and their first fear scarce o'er,  
Expecting famine from a desert shore;  
From that hard Climate we must wait for bread  
Whence even the Natives forced by hunger fled.  
Our stage does humane chance present to view,  
But ne'er before was seen so sadly true,  
You are changed to, and your pretence to see  
Is but a nobler name of charity.  
Your own provisions furnish out our feasts  
Whilst you the founders make yourselves our guests.  
Of all mankind besides Fate had some care,  
But for poor Wit no portion did prepare,  
'Tis left a rent-charge to the brave and fair.  
You cherished it, & now its fall you mourn,  
Which blind unmannerd Zealots make their scorn,  
Who think the fire a Judgement on the stage,  
Which spared not Temples in its surious rage.  
But as our new-built City rises higher,  
So from old theatres may new aspire,  
Since Fate contrives magnificence by fire.  
Our great Metropolis doth far surpass  
What ere is now, & equalled all that was,  
Our Wit as far doth foreign wit excel,  
And like a king should in a Palace dwell.  
But we with golden hopes are vainly fed,  
Talk high, and entertain you in a shed:  
Your presence here, for which we humbly sue,  
Will grace old theatres, and build up new.   

A Song.  

OF all the brisk da●●s my Selina for me,  
For I love not a woman unless she be free;  
The affection that I to my Mistress do pay  
Grows weary, unless she does meet me half way:  
There can be no pleasure till humours do hit,  
Then Jumpings as good in affection as wit.   

No sooner I came, but she liked me as soon;  
No sooner I asked, but she granted my boon;  
And without a preamble, a portion or Jointer,  
She promised to meet me, where e'er i'd appoint her;  
So we struck up a match, and embraced each other  
Without the consent of Father or Mother.   

Then away with a Lady that's modest and coy,  
Let her ends be the pleasure that we do enjoy;  
L●t her tickle her fancy with secret delight,  
And refuse all the day, what she longs for at night:  
I believe my Selina, who shows they're all mad,  
To feed on dry bones, when flesh may be had.    

A SONG.  

Give o'er foolish heart, and make haste to despare,  
For Daphne regards not thy vows nor thy prayer  
Which plead for thy passion, thy pains to prolong;  
She courts her guitar, and replies with a Song.  
No more shall true lovers such beauties adore,  
Were the gods so severe, men would worship no more.   

No more will I wait like a slave at your door,  
I will spend the cold night at the windows no more;  
My lungs in long sighs I'll no more exhale,  
Since your pride is to make me grow sullen & pale;  
No more shall Amintas your pity implore,  
Were gods so ingrate men, would worship no more.   

No more shall your frowns & free humour persuade  
To worship the Idol my fancy hath made;  
When your Saints so neglected, your follies give o'er  
Your deity's lost, and your beauty's no more;  
No more sh●ll true lovers such beauties adore,  
Were the gods so severe, men would worship no mo●●.   

How weak are the vows of a lover in pain  
When flartered with hope, or oppressed with disdain;  
No sooner my Daphne's bright eyes I review,  
But all is forgot, and I vow all anew.  
No more fairest Nymph, I will murmur no more.  
Did the Gods seem so fair, men would ever adore.    

A Song.  

1.  
COrinna ' false! it cannot be,  
Let me not hear't again, 'tis blasphemy,  
she's divine,  
Not the Shrine  
Where the Vestal flames do shine  
Holds out a light so constant pure as she▪  
First shall the nights  
Out-burne those Taper lights  
Which Emulate the one eyed day;  
Phoebus' rays  
Shall outgaze  
Titan in his chiefest praise;  
Snow shall burn,  
Floods return  
To their Springs, their funeral urn,  
ere my Corinna's constancy decay.   

2.  
Not innocence itself is free  
From imputation; and ' twe●e base in me,  
Where I find  
Love combined  
In a heart of one so kind,  
To injure virtue with Jealousy.  
Still do I strive  
To keep my joys alive  
And vindicate Corinna's fame,  
Whilst my breast  
Doth suggest  
Thoughts which violate my rest,  
And my fears  
Flow in Tears  
Whilst they wound me through the ear's  
Which cast aspersion on Corinna's name.   

3.  
'Tis said, Corinna may it be  
As false as my affection's true to thee,  
That thou art!  
How my heart  
Grieves such terrors to impart;  
Not what thou wast before to me.  
This, this, destroys  
My late triumphant Joys  
Which swelled, when in your arms I was entwined.  
Love's best wreath  
You did breath,  
You vowed to be my love till death  
Sealing this  
With that bliss,  
Whilst with arms, and every word a kiss  
Our pure souls were as our hearts combined.   

Last night I walked into a grove  
●Mong shady bowers to bewail my love,  
There to find  
Fate so kind  
As to ease my pensive mind  
Or thoughts of my Corinna to remove.  
But there the Nightingale  
Had hushed her pretty tale,  
Leaving her ditty's to the Owl,  
Which made me sad  
And did add  
Fuel to the flame I had:  
That poor I  
Now must die  
Unless Corinna's constancy  
Takes off this clog which overwhelmes my soul.    

The Petticoat wag, with the Answer.  
SOme say the world is full of holes,  
And I think  
Many a chink  
Is unstopped, that were better closed,  
Is now unstopped that were better closed.  
To stop them all is more than to build Paul's;  
Wherefore he  
That would see  
How men are in private disposed,  
How most men are in private disposed  
Then let him look the world throughout  
From the oysterwench to the black bag,  
And peep here,  
And peep there,  
You'll still find the petticoat wag.   

The Answer.  

SOme say the world is full of pelse,  
But I think  
There's no Chink  
Because I have so little myself,  
Because I have now so little myself.   

Where pockets are full, there men will borrow,  
But one must  
Neve● trust  
〈◊〉 to be paid to day or to morrow,  
〈◊〉 to be paid to day or to morrow▪   

● let him look the world throughout  
From the Usurer to his best friend,  
And ask here,  
And ask there,  
But the Devil a penny they'll lend.    

An Invocation to Cupid▪ A SONG.  

YOu powers that guard loves pleasant Thron●  
And guide our passions by your own,  
〈◊〉 down, send down that golden dart  
〈◊〉 makes two Lovers wear one heart.   

Solicit Venus that her doves  
●hich through their bills translate their loves,  
May teach my tender love and I  
To kiss into a Sympathy.   

Pray Cupid, if it be no sin  
Against nature, for to make a twin  
Of our two souls, that the others eyes  
May see death cozened when one dies.   

If oh you Powers you can implore  
Thus much from Love, know from your store  
Two Amorous Turtles shall be freed  
Which yearly on your Altar bleed▪    

A beautiful and great Lady died in March, and was buried in April.  
MArch with his winds hath struck a Cedar tall,  
And weeping April mourns the Cedars fall,  
And May intends her month no flowers shall bring  
Sith she must lose the flower of all the Spring.  
Then March winds have caused April showers,  
And yet sad May, must lose her flower of flowers.   

To● of Bedlam, and to that Tune. A mock to From a dark and dismal state.  

1.  
FRom the hag and hungry Goblin  
That into rags would rend ye,  
All the Spirits that stan  
By the naked man  
In the book of moons defend ye,  
●hat of your five sound Senses  
You never be forsaken,  
Nor Travel from  
Yourselves with Tom  
Abroad to beg your Bacon.  
Chor: Nor never sing, any food any feeding,  
Money drink or clothing:  
Come dame or maid  
Be not asfrayd,  
Poor Tom will injure nothing.   

2.  
Of 30 bare years have I  
Twice twenty been enraged,  
And of forty been  
Three times fifteen  
In durance sound caged.  
●n the lovely lofts of Bedlam, on stubble soft & dainty  
Brave bracelets strong,  
Sweet whips ding dung  
And who some hunger plenty.  
Cho●. And now I sing, any food, any feeding etc.   

3.  
With a thought I took for maudlin,  
And a ●ruse of ●o●kle pottage  
And a thing thus— tall  
(Sky bless you all)  
I fell into this do●age.  
I slept not since the conquest,  
Till than I never waked,  
Till the Roguish Boy  
Of Love where I lay  
Me found, and stripped me naked.  
Chor: And made me sing, any food, etc.   

4.  
When short I have shorn my Sow's face,  
And swigged my horned barrel,  
In an Oaken Inn,  
Do I pawn my skin,  
As a suit of gi●● apparel.  
The Moon's my constant Mistress,  
And the lovely Owl my morrow,  
The flaming drake,  
And the night-crow make  
Me music to my sorrow.  
Chor: While there I sing any food etc.   

5.  
The Palsy plague these pounces,  
When I prigg your pigs or pullen,  
Your Culvers take,  
Or mateless make  
Your Chanticleare, and ●ullen▪  
When I want provant, with Humphrey I su●,  
And when benighted,  
To repose in Paul's,  
With walking souls,  
I never am affrighted.  
Chor: But still do I sing, any food etc.   

6.  
I know more than Apollo,  
For oft when he lies sleeping,  
I behold the Stars  
At mortal wars,  
And the wounded Welkin weeping;  
The Moon embrace her shepherd,  
And the queen of Love her warrior,  
Whilst the first doth horn,  
The star of the morn,  
And the next the heavenly Farrier.   

7.  
The Gipsy Snap, and Tedro,  
Are none of Tom's Comrades,  
The Punk I scorn,  
And the Cutpurse sworn,  
And the roaring boys bravadoes.  
The sober white, and gentle,  
Me trace, or touch, and spare not;  
But those that cross  
Tom's Rhinoceros  
Do what the Panther dare not.  
Chor: Although I sing, any food etc.   

8.  
Which a heart of furious fancies,  
Whereof I am commander,  
With a burning spear,  
And a horse of Air,  
To the wilderness I wander;  
With a Knight of Ghosts and shadows,  
I summoned am to Tourney,  
Ten leagues beyond  
The wide world's end,  
Methinks it is no journey.  
Chor: All while I sing,  
Any food any feeding.  
Money drink or clothing  
Come d●me or maid  
Be not assrayd  
Poor Tom will injure nothing    

The Oakerman.  
To the Tune of Tom of Bedlam.  

1.  
THe Star that shines by day light,  
And his Love the midnight walker,  
Well guard Red-Jack,  
With his Purple-pack  
Of right North●mbrian Auker,  
Cho: While here I sing,  
Any mark any marking,  
Marking red or yellow,  
Come, come, and buy, or say ye why,  
You deny so brave a fellow.   

2.  
Full off a 10 day's Journey  
Into the earth I venture,  
To show bright day,  
Old Adam's clay,  
From the Long benighted centre,  
Chor: And then I sing, any mark etc.   

3.  
From the Rugged I'll of Orkney,  
Where the Redshank walks the Marish  
Not a Town of Count  
To the Magog-mount,  
Not a Village Ham or parish,  
Chor: But then I sing any mark etc.   

4.  
The Curtailed Cur and Mastiff,  
With this Twig I charm from barking;  
From Packhorse feet,  
And wells in street,  
I preserve your Babes with marking.  
Chor: While there I sing, Any mark etc.   

5.  
The Blank denier, and Stiver,  
To Gold I turn with wearing  
And a sixpenny pot,  
For a scarlet groat  
E●●ic fills me without swearing.  
Chor: While I do sing any mark etc.   

6.  
Besides the Mort I married,  
With whom I sometimes slumber,  
'Tway loves have I,  
And one lig by,  
So we are five in number,  
Chor: And we do sing any mark etc.   

7.  
Not one of all my Doxies,  
So fruitless is or sterile,  
But breeds young bones,  
And marking stones  
To your Poultreys further peril.  
Chor: When they shall sing any ma●ke etc.   

8.  
Will you red-stones have to Tawny  
Your Lambskins or your weathers,  
Will ye Bowl as good,  
For a flux of blood,  
As the fu●e of Capon's feathers.  
Chor: Of these I sing any mark etc.   

9  
Will you Led to Pounce your paintings,  
Any Peakish wherstones will ye,  
Will ye heavenly Blewes,  
Or Ceruse use,  
That scorns to woo the Lilly.  
Chor: Of what I sing, any mark etc.   

10.  
The Belgian does not scorn me,  
Nor I the Ethiopian,  
I am both one man,  
To the American,  
And the white and fair European.  
Chor: Although I sing any mark etc.   

11.  
The fiery Mars his Minion,  
By the Twilight might me follow;  
In a morning Scene,  
To the Morning's Queen,  
She might take me for Apollo.  
Cho: But that I sing, any mark etc.   

12.  
But as disdained of fortune,  
Disdain I shift and sharking,  
No loves but these,  
Do my fancy please,  
No delight, or life to marking.  
Chor: Wherefore I sing  
Any marking,  
Marking red or yellow,  
Come, come, and buy,  
Or say you why,  
You deny so brave a fellow.    

Old Soldiers.  

1.  
OF old Soldiers the Song you would hear,  
And we old Fiddlers have forgot who they were  
But all we remember shall come ●o your Ear,  
Chor: That we are Old Soldier● of the Queens,  
And the Queen's Old Soldiers.   

2.  
With an old Drake that was the next man,  
To old Franciscus (who first it began)  
To fail through the straits of Magellan,  
Chor: Like an old Soldier etc.   

3.  
That put the Proud Spanish Armado to wrack,  
And Travelled all o'er the old world, and came back  
In his old Ship, laden with Gold and old Sack,  
Chor: Like an old etc.   

4.  
With an Old Candish that seconded him,  
And taught his old Sails the same passage to swim,  
And did them therefore with Cloth of Gold Trim,  
Like an old etc.   

5.  
With an old Raleigh that twice and again,  
Sailed over most part of the Seas, and then  
Travelled all o'er the old World with his Pen,  
And an Old etc.   

With an old john Norreys the General  
That at old Gaunt made his same Immortal,  
In s●ight of his foes with no loss at all,  
Like an old Soldier etc.   

7.  
Like old Bres●-sort an Invincible thing,  
When the old Queen sent him to help the French King,  
Took from the proud foe to the world's wondering,  
As an old etc.   

Where an old stout Friar as goes the story,  
Came to push a Pike with him in vain glory,  
But h● was almost sent to his own Purgatory  
By this old soldier etc.   

With an old Ned Norrey● that kept Ostend,  
A terror to so, and a refuge to friend,  
And left it Impregnable to his last end,  
Like an old Soldier etc.   

That in the old unfortunate voyage of all,  
Marched o'er the old Bridge, and knocked at the wall  
Of Lisbon the Mistress of Portugal,  
Like an old soldier etc.   

With an old Tom Norreys by the old Queen sent,  
Of Munster in Ireland Lord Precedent,  
Where his days and his blood in her service he spent,  
Like an old soldier etc.   

With an old Harry Norreys in b●ttel wounded  
In his Knee, whose Leg was cut off; and he said  
You have spilled my Dancing, and died in his bed.  
An old Soldier etc.   

With an old Will Norreys the oldest of all,  
Who went voluntary without any call,  
Toth' old Irish Wars to's fame Immortal,  
Like an old Soldier etc.   

With an old Maximilian Norreys the last  
Of six old brothers, whose fame the time past  
Could never yet match, nor shall future time waist▪  
He was an old soldier etc.   

With an old Dick Wenman the first (in his prime)  
That over the wal●s of old Cales did climb,  
And therefore was Knighted, and lived all his time.  
An old soldier etc.   

With an old Nando Wenman when Breast was o'erthrown▪  
Into th' Air, into ●h' Seas with Gunpowder blown,  
Yet bravely recovering, long after was known,  
An old soldier etc.   

With an old Tom Wenman, whose bravest delight  
Was in a good cause for his Country to fight,  
And died in Ireland a good old Knight▪  
And an old soldier etc.   

With a yo●ng N●d Wenman so valiant and bold,  
In the w●●rs of Bohemia; as with the old  
Deserves for his valour to be Enrolled,  
An old etc.   

And thus of old Soldiers hear ye the same,  
But never so many of one house and name,  
And all of old Io●n Lord Williams of Thame,  
Chor: An Old Soldier of the Queens,  
And the Queen's old Sold●er.    

A wo●rs Expostulation.  

1.  
ALl day do I sit inventing,  
While I live so single alone,  
Which way to Wed to my contenting,  
And yet can resolve upon none.  
There's a wench whose wealth would enrich me,  
But she not delights me;  
There's another's eyes do bewitch me,  
But her fashion frights me.  
He that herein  
Has a traveller been  
And at length in his Longing sped.  
What shall I do,  
Tell me who I shall woe,  
For I long to be lustily wed.   

2.  
Shall I with a Widow marry;  
No, no, she such watch will bear  
To spy how myself I do carry.  
I shall always live in fear.  
Shall I to a maid be a wooer,  
Maidens are loved of many,  
Knowing not to whom to be sure▪  
Are unsure to any.  
Marry with youth,  
There is love without truth,  
For the young cannot long be just,  
And Age if ● prove;  
There is truth without Love,  
For the Old are too cold to Lust.    

The Resolution.  

1.  
I Dye, when as I do not see  
Her, who is my life, and all to me;  
And when I see her than I die  
In seeing of her cruel●y,  
So that to me like misery is wrought,  
Both when I see, and when I see her no●.   

2.  
Shall I in silence mourn and grieve?  
Who silent sorrows will relieve?  
In speaking not my heart will rend▪  
And speaking I ●●y her ●●●end.  
So that 'twixt Love and death my heart is shot  
With equal dar●s, speak I, or speak I not.   

3.  
Since life and death is in her Eye,  
If her I not behold, I die;  
And if I look on her she kills,  
I'll choose the least of two such ills;  
Though both be hard, this is the easier lot,  
To die and see, than die and see her not   

4.  
Yet when I see her I shall speak;  
For if I speak not, heart will break;  
And if I speak I can but die,  
Of two such ills the least i'll try;  
Who dies unseen or dumb is soon forgot,  
I'll see and speak then, die, or die I not.    

Love, himself in Love  

1.  
AS in May the little god of love  
Forsook his Mother's rosy rest  
To play, to wanton, and to rove  
His quiver where it pleased him best▪  
Wanting sport  
In idle sort  
An arrow where he could not tell  
From him glanced,  
So it chanced  
Love thereby in Love befell.   

2.  
In sad Tears he to his mother prayed  
(to seek his shaft) to lend him eyes,  
Which she grants: a bright and lovely  
Love taking up his dart espies;  
But poor lad  
He better had  
Near seen at all, then now too well,  
For being struck,  
With her fair look  
Love himself in love befell.   

3.  
She too true a chastity embraced,  
And from Love's courtship, and his 〈◊〉  
Nicely flew; but when his hour was passed  
His sorrow with his sight was gone.  
With us swains,  
She now remains;  
And every shepherd's boy can tell,  
This is she  
That love did see  
Who seeing her in love befell   

4.  
Some thus wish, that Love had never shot,  
(That thereof with him feel the woe)  
Some dispute that Love a God is not,  
And think that beauty bears the bow,  
Since this maid,  
Without his aid,  
Doth her beholders all compel,  
Now to fall  
Into that thrall  
Where Love himself in Love befell.   

5.  
Simple Swains could wish their eyes were blind  
For in her speech and every grace,  
Are such chains to captivate the mind,  
They love her that ne'er saw her face.  
Liking lies  
Not all in Eyes,  
No● Charms in Cheeks do only dwell,  
Love had power,  
But for an hour,  
To see, and so in love befell.   

6.  
Since in troop of many wretched men  
I her enchanting looks survay'd,  
Though I droop, I languish, yet again,  
To see, and yet to see afraid.  
But O why,  
With shame should I  
Consume for what I love so well;  
First I'll try  
Her love, and die  
With fame, where love in love befell.    

The Matchless Maid.  

1.  
AMidst the merry May,  
When wantoness would a playing,  
A Girl as any gay  
That had no mind a Maying,  
By a clear  
Fountain brim,  
Shedding tears,  
Shaming him,  
Sat, and said, are all they  
With their Mates gone to May,  
And on a Sun-shiny day  
Must I be cast away,  
O, to die a Maid.   

2.  
One hand she laid to calm  
Her breast that ever panted,  
And on her other palm  
Her dewy Cheek she planted,  
All a loft  
Covered o'er  
With the soft silks she wore,  
And underneath a bed  
Of Lillyes had she spread  
Whereon she was, she said  
Fully determined  
O to die a Maid.   

3.  
Is't love, quoth she, or lot,  
Whose fault I am not mated?  
Has Cupid me forgot,  
Will fortune have me hated?  
O ill men  
Though ye be  
Fewer then  
Wretched we;  
Must I needs be one,  
For whom there mate is none,  
None need her death bemoan  
(Than) that was borne alone,  
O, to die a Made   

4.  
And so into a swound  
She fell; and in a trembling  
Fell I, when as I found  
A maid; & no dissembling:  
To her quick  
Did I step,  
Felt her thick  
Pulses leap,  
Broke her blue Belt in twain,  
Into her cheeks again,  
Kissed that Vermilion stain,  
Nature did ne'er ordain.  
O to die a Maid.   

5.  
But like to him that wrought  
A face that him Enchanted,  
And life for it besought,  
Which Cytherea granted,  
Fared I  
(fool) that should  
Let her die  
When she would.  
For with that soul she brought,  
Back from the shades she sought,  
Am I now deeply caught  
In love, that ever thought  
O to die a Maid.    

One and his Mistress a dying.  

1.  
SHall we die,  
Both thou and I,  
And leave the world behind us;  
Come I say  
And lets away,  
For no body here doth mind us.   

2.  
Why do we gape,  
We cannot scape  
The doom that is assigned us;  
When we are in grave,  
Although we rave,  
There no body needs to bind us.   

3.  
The Clerk shall sing,  
The Sexton ring,  
And old wives they shall wind us  
The Priest shall lay  
Our bones in clay,  
And no body there shall find us.   

4.  
Farewell wits,  
And folly's fits,  
And griefs that often pined us;  
When we are dead,  
we'll take no heed  
What no body says behind us.   

5.  
Merry nights,  
And false delights  
Dieu, ye did but blind us;  
We must to mould,  
Both young and old,  
Till no bodies left behind us.    

A Dialogue between a man (in Garrison) and his wife (with her company) storming without. The Tune The Devil's Dream.  Man. 

HArk, hark, the Dogs do bark,  
My Wife is coming in  
With Rogues and Jades,  
And roaring blades,  
They make a devilish din.   Woman. 

2.  
Knock, knock, 'tis twelve a clock,  
The Watch will come anon,  
And then shall we  
All be free  
Of the Gate house every one.   Man. 

3.  
Hold, hold, who is that so bold  
That dares to force my doors,  
Here is no room  
For such a scum  
Of arrant Rogues and Whores   Woman. 

4.  
See, See, this Cuckold he  
Denies to let us in,  
Let's force the house,  
Drink and carouse,  
And make him sit and spin.   Man. 

5.  
So, so, I'm glad I know  
Your mind, I will provide  
A Bridewell Bunne  
For every one,  
And lodging there beside.   Woman. 

6.  
Run, Run, le's all be gone,  
The Watch is coming by,  
They bid 'em stand,  
Away they ran  
As fast as they could hay.   Man. 

7.  
Watch, watch, I prithee catch  
Some of that flying crew,  
Here's money for ye,  
They for it tarry,  
Mean while away they flew.    

A Late Poem by a Person of quality.  
What dire Aspects wore the enraged sky  
At the cursed moment of my birth: O why  
Did envious Fate prolong my loathsome age,  
Since all mankind, yea all the Gods engage  
To bend their never-ceasing spite on me alone,  
Am I the centre of their envy grown?  
Am I the man  
On whom they all their venomed weapons try  
Made for their sport, and mankind's mockery,  
Or was't ye Gods that you did me create  
Only to make me thus unfortunate?  
Or do I owe a being to some other powers  
Who'l make me able to deride all yours?  
If so,  
From these unknown Patrons I'll obtain  
A power to stay your deemed eternal reign,  
I'll ravish Nature, from which rape shall come  
A Race, shall ruin your ill guarded throne;  
Rocks, hills, and mountains, we'll sling at the Sky;  
Whole torn up Regions in Jove's face shall fly.  
we'll drai●e the Seas  
With hills of water, quench the angry stars;  
Nor will we put an end to these just wars,  
Till conquered jove shall learn to obey,  
And I more powerful shall his Sceptre sway;  
The heavens to their first source shall then return,  
The Earth to her Autumnal being run:  
And stubborn mankind I will new create:  
On all I will impose new laws of Fate.   

On Women.  
WOmen are called Eves,  
Because they came from Adam's wife,  
Put to t●h, and they are Thiefs,  
They rob men of a merry life;  
Put ls to Eve, and then they're Evils,  
Put d before evils, and then they are Devils:  
And thus our Eves are made thiefs, & thiefs are evils  
And angry Women are a thousand times worse than Devils.   

The Valentine.  

1.  
AS youthful day put on his best  
Attire to usher morn,  
And she to greet her glorious guest  
Did her fair self adorn;  
Up did I rise, and hid mine eyes  
As I went through the street,  
Lest I should one that I despise  
Before a fairer meet;  
And why  
Was I,  
Think you so nice and fine,  
Well did I wot,  
Who wotts it not,  
It was St Valentine   

2.  
In fields by Phoebus' great with young  
Of Flower's and hopeful buds,  
Resembling thoughts that freshly sprung  
In lovers lively bloods,  
A damsel fair and fine I saw,  
So fair and finely dight,  
As put my heart almost in awe  
To attempt a mate so bright:  
But O,  
Why so,  
Her purpose was like mine,  
And readily,  
She said as I,  
Good morrow Valentine.   

3.  
A Fair of love we kept a while,  
She for each word I said  
Gave me two smiles, and for each smile  
I her two kisses paid.  
The Violet made haste to appear  
To be her bosom guest,  
With first Primrose that grew this year  
I purchased from her breast;  
To me, gave she, her golden lo●k for mine;  
My ring of Jet,  
For her Bracelet,  
I gave my Valentine.   

4.  
Subscribed with a line of love,  
My name for her I wrote;  
In silk form her name she wove,  
Whereto this was her mot—  
As shall this year thy truth appear  
I still my dear am thine:  
Your mate to day, and Love for ay,  
If you so say, was mine.  
While thus, on us, each others favours shine,  
No more have we to change, quoth she,  
Now farewell Valentine.   

5.  
Alas, said I, ●e● friends not seem  
Between themselves so strange,  
The Jewels both we dearest esteem  
You know are yet to change:  
She answers no, yet smiles as though  
Her tongue her thought denies;  
Who truth of maiden's mind will know,  
Must seek it in her Eyes.  
She blushy,  
I wished,  
Her heart as free as mine,  
She sight and swore,  
Insooth you are  
Too wanton Valentine.   

6.  
Yet I such further favour won  
By suit and pleasing play,  
She vowed what now was left undone,  
Should finished be in May.  
And though perplexed with such delay▪  
As more augments desire,  
'twixt present grief, and promised Joy;  
I from my Mate re●ire▪  
If she  
To me  
Preserve her vows divine  
And constant troth,  
She shall be both  
My Love and Valentine.    

On Thirsis and Phillis.  

YOung Thirsis the shepherd, that wont was to keep  
So delightful slocks and fair,  
Sets eyes upon Phillis, and le's go the Sheep  
To wander he knows not where.  
The cropping of Lillyes,  
Was as became Phillis,  
That seemed with her brow to compare;  
He tuning of Verses,  
Was as became Thirsis,  
That more did her beauty declare.   

2.  
Why lik'st thou those flowers that are not like thee,  
Thou art far more fresh and gay,  
Or if thou lov'st Lillyes, why lov'st thou not me  
That am Lovesick and pale as they?  
Thy bosom fair Phillis  
Yields loulyer Lillyes  
Surpassing the sweetness of those,  
Whose beauty so pierces  
The poor heart of Thirsis  
That these more resemble his woes.   

3.  
Art thou a Shepherdess, and yet too good  
For a Shepherd to be thy mate?  
If wanton opinion, or pureness of blood,  
Doth make thee disdain thy estate,  
Let Thirsis pluck Lillyes,  
And feed flocks for Phillis  
For her love his duty to show,  
Whilst Phillis rehearses,  
The Poesies of Thirsis  
In his love her beauty to know.   

4.  
If Goridons' jealousy cannot admit  
Young Thirsis his rival to be,  
Thy heart is too young to be singular yet,  
And too old to be loved is he.  
Then try what the skill is  
Of young men fair Phillis  
E'er age thou dost simply retain;  
If any love pierces  
Thee deeper than Thirsis,  
Let Thirsis love Phillis in vain,   

5.  
Thus Thirsis went, on but Phillis more wise  
Conceals the delight she find,  
For women their like have skill to disguise,  
But men cannot mask their minds.  
He mounts where the hill is,  
The proud hill where Phillis,  
Is wont to rest with her sheep;  
And with his ●lock Thirsis,  
So seldom converses,  
We think he with Phillis doth keep.    

A Song.  

1.  
TO love thee without flattery were a sin,  
Since thou art all Inconstancy within,  
Thy heart is governed only by thine Eyes,  
●he newest object is thy richest prize,  
Love me then just as I love thee,  
That's till a fairer I can see.   

2.  
I hate this constant doting on a Face,  
Content ne'er dwells a week in any place;  
Why then should you and I love one another  
Longer than we can our fancy smother;  
Love me then just as I love thee,  
That's till a fairer I can see▪    

A Song.  

1.  
When Thirsis did the splendid Eye  
Of Phillis his fair Mistress spy,  
Was ever such a glorious Queen  
Said he, unless above, 'twere seen.   

2.  
Fair Phillis with a blushing air,  
Hearing those words became more fair;  
Away, says he, you need not take  
Fresh beauty, you more fair to make.   

3.  
Then with a winning smile and look,  
His candid flattery she took;  
O stay, said he, 'tis done I vow,  
Thirsis is captivated now.    

A catch for three Voices, made from a true Story.  

1.  
A Knot of good fellows were making moan,  
Their meeting was spoilt, their pig was gone▪  
Whee, quoth a Frenchman to joan, its dark,  
Hark there, cries Mounseir, Pig, we'll make him pork;  
They caught him, & stuck him, we ' we ', what you do  
To serve you like the mother of the meaz'ld sow?  
Begar me no Bacon, you English dog;  
Weeh, weeh, you rask all Frenchman, we'll dress you like a hogg?  
They kept such a weehing that home came the Pig,  
Which made them all dance, and drink as long as they could swig,  
They cry the Mounseir pardon, & forth let him pass  
No more for a Pig, but now for an Ass.    

A Catch of 3 Parts.  

1.  
MY Mistress will not be content to take a Jest,  
I mean a Jest as Chaucer meant:  
But following still the women's fashion,  
Allows it, allows it, in the last translation;  
For with the word she'll not dispense,  
And yet, and yet, and yet, I know she loves the sense.    

On Loyalty in the Cavaliers.  

1.  
HE that is a clear  
Cavalier  
Will not repine,  
Although his fortune grow  
So very low  
That he cannot get wine.  
Fortune is a Lass,  
She will embrace,  
And straight destroy;  
Freeborn Loyalty  
Will ever be,  
Sing Vive le Roy.   

Chorus.  
virtue is her own reward, and fortune is a Whore,  
There's none but knaves and fools regard  
Her, or do her power implore.  
A real honest man,  
Might a'bin utterly undone,  
To show his Allegiance,  
His love and obedience;  
Honour will raise him up,  
And still praise him up,  
Virtue stays him up,  
Whilst your Loose Courtiers dine  
With their full Bowls of Wine,  
Honour will stick to it fast;  
And he that fights for love, doth in the way of honour move;  
He that is a true Roger, and hath served his King,  
Although he be a ragged Soldier;  
Whilst those that make sport of us,  
May become short of us,  
●te will flatter 'em, and will scatter 'em,  
Whilst that Loyalty  
Waits on Royalty,  
He that waits peacefully,  
May be successfully  
Crowned with Crowns at last.   

2.  
Firmly let us then  
Be honest men,  
And kick at fate,  
We shall live to see  
Loyalty,  
Valued at a high rate.  
He that bears a word  
Or a sword,  
'Gainst the Throne,  
Or doth profanely prate  
To wrong the State,  
Hath but little for his own.   

Chorus.  
What though the Plumes of painted Players.  
Be the prosperous men,  
Yet we'll attend our own affairs,  
When we come to't again.  
Treachery may be faced with light,  
And lechery lined with fur,  
A Cuckold may be made a Knight,  
'Tis fortune the la gar;  
But what is that to us boys,  
That now are honest men?  
we'll conquer and come again,  
Beat up the drum again,  
hay for Cavaliers,  
Joy for Cavaliers,  
Pray for Cavaliers,  
Dub a dub dub,  
Have at old Belzebub,  
Oliver stinks for fear.  
Fist-Monarchy must down-boyes  
And every Sect in Town,  
we'll rally, and to't again,  
Give 'em the rout again,  
When they come again,  
Charge'em home again,  
Face to the right about, tantararara,  
This is the life of an honest poor Cavalier.    

The Irish footman's, O hone,  

1.  
NOw Chree'st me save,  
Poor Irish Knave, O hone, O hone,  
Round about,  
The Town throughout,  
Is poor Shone gone,  
Master to find,  
Loving and kind,  
But Shone to his mind is ne'er the near,  
Shone can find none here,  
Which makes him cry for fear  
O hone, O hone,  
Shone being poor,  
Him's foot being sore,  
For which he'll no more  
Trot about,  
To find master out,  
Fai● I'll rather go without And cry O ●one.   

2.  
I was so crossed,  
That I was fords,  
To go barefoot,  
With stripes to boot,  
And no shoes none  
Nill English could I speak,  
My mind for to break,  
And many laughed to hear the moan I made,  
And I like a tired Jade,  
That had no work nor Trade  
But cried O hone.  
'Cause Church to go,  
Wither I'd or no,  
●le die or do so,  
Grace a Christ;  
●or I love Popish Priest  
A poor Catholic thou seest, O hone, O hone.   

●  
Good honest Shone,  
Make no more moan,  
For thy lost,  
●do intent,  
Something to spend  
On Catholics thus crossed;  
Take this small gift,  
And with i● make a shift,  
And be not thou bereavest;  
Of thy mind;  
Although he was unkind,  
●o leave thee thus behind, To cry O hone.  
Here take this Beer, and with it make good cheer,  
nothing's for thee too dear; so a due,  
●e constant still and true,  
This country do not true, Nor cry O hone,   

4.  
Good Shentlemen,  
That do intend,  
To help poor Shone at's need;  
My Patron here,  
Has given me Beer,  
And meat where●n to feed,  
Yea and moneys too,  
So I hope that you  
Will do as he did do,  
For my relief,  
To ease my pain & grief.  
I'll eat no powdered beef,  
What ere ensue.  
But I will keep my fast,  
As I did in times past,  
To get more stomach for my hungry throat,  
And 〈◊〉 for friends I sought,  
They called me all te're naught    

Song.  

I Went to the Tavern, and then,  
I went to the Tavern, and then,  
I had good store of Wine,  
And my cap full of coin  
And the world went well with me then, then,  
And the world went well with me then.   

●  
I went to the Tavern again,  
Where I ran on the score  
And was turned out o'th' door,  
And the world went ill with me then, then, etc.   

●  
When I was a Bachelor than  
I had a Saddle and a Horse,  
And I took my own course,  
And the world went well with me then, then, etc.   

4.  
But when I was married, O then  
My Horse and my Saddle  
Were turned to a Cradle,  
And the world went ill with me then, then, etc.   

5.  
When I brought her home money, than  
She never would pout,  
But clip me about,  
And the world went well with me then, then, etc.   

6.  
But when I was drunk, O then,  
She'd kick, she'd fling,  
Till she made the house ring,  
And the world went ill with me then, then, etc.   

7.  
So I turned her away, and then,  
I got me a Miss,  
To clip and to kiss,  
And the world went ill, etc.   

8.  
But the Pariter came, and then  
I was called to the Court,  
Where I paid for my sport,  
And the world went ill etc.   

9  
I took my Wife home again,  
But I changed her note,  
For I cut her throat,  
And the world went well with me then, etc.   

10.  
But when it was known, O then,  
In a two-wheeld Chariot,  
To Tyburn I was carried,  
And the world went ill, etc.   

11.  
But when I came there, O then,  
They for●'t me to swing.  
To heaven in a string,  
And the world went well with me then, then.  
And the world went well with me then.    

The Moons Love.  

1.  
THe Moon in her pride,  
Once glanced aside  
Her eyes, and espied  
The day,  
As unto his bed,  
In waistcoat of red,  
Fair Phoebus him led  
The way;  
Such changes of thought,  
In her chastity wrought.  
That thus she besought the boy,  
O tarry,  
And Mary  
The Starry Diana,  
That will be thy Gem, and Joy.   

2.  
I will be as bright  
At noon as at night,  
If that may delight  
The day;  
Come hither and join  
Thy glories with mine,  
Together we'll shine  
For aye.  
The night shall be noon,  
And every moon  
As pleasant as june  
Or May;  
O tarry and marry etc.   

3.  
Enamoured of none  
I live chaste and alone,  
Though courted of one,  
Some say;  
And true if it were  
●o frivolous fear  
Let never my dear  
Dismay,  
I'll change my opinion,  
And turn my old Minion,  
The Sleepy Endymion  
Away,  
O tarry and marry, etc.   

4.  
And but that the night,  
Should have wanted her light  
Or lovers in sight  
Should play,  
Or Phoebus should shame  
To bestow such a dame  
(With a dower of his flame)  
On a Boy,  
Or day should appear,  
Eternally here,  
And night otherwhere,  
The day  
Had tarried,  
And married,  
The starryed Diana,  
And she been his Gem and Joy▪    

On Dulcina.  

1.  
AS at noon Dulcina rested,  
In her sweet and shady bower,  
Came a shepherd and requested,  
In her lap to sleep an hour;  
But from her look,  
A wound he took  
So deep, that for a further boon,  
The Nymph he prays,  
Where to she says,  
Forego me now, come to me soon.   

2.  
But in vain did she conjure him,  
To depart her presence so,  
Having a thousand tongues to allure him,  
And but one to bid him go.  
Where lips invite,  
And eyes delight,  
And cheeks as fresh as rose in june,  
Persuade to stay,  
What boots her say,  
Forego me now, come to me soon.  
Words whose hopes might have enjoined  
Him to let Dulcina sleep,  
Could a man's love be confined,  
Or a maid her promise keep;  
But he her waste,  
Still holds as fast,  
As she was constant to her Tune  
And still she spoke,  
For Cupid sake  
Forego me now, come to me 〈◊〉   

4.  
He demands what time or pleasure.  
Can there be more soon than now?  
She says Night gives love that leisure,  
That the Day doth not allow.  
The Sun's kind sight,  
Forgives delight,  
Quoth he, more easily than the Moon.  
And Venus plays: he told, she says,  
Forego me now, come to me soon.   

5.  
But no promise nor procession,  
From his hands could purchase scope;  
Who would sell the sweet possession  
Of such beauty for a hope?  
Or for the sight of lingering night,  
Forego the present Joys of Noon,  
Though never so fair, her speeches were,  
Forego me now, come to me soon.   

6.  
How at last agreed these lovers,  
He was ●aire, and she was young,  
Ton●●● ma● tell what eye discovers,  
Joy●●●●●seen are never sung.  
Did she consent,  
Or he relent,  
Accepts he night, or grants she noon,  
Left he her maid, or not? she said  
Forego me now, come to me soon.    

The Sailor's Song.  

1.  
The raging waves, and roaring wind  
(My Mates) I list no longer hide,  
A gentler passage now I find,  
And Sail upon a calmer tide  
Of Neptune's man, his mate I prove,  
And serve with him the master love.   

2.  
My bosom now my Ocean is,  
Wherein my Amorous thoughts do steer,  
My hopeful heart in waves of bliss,  
Whereto her voice and smiling clear.  
My wind and weather be: Her eyes  
Are both my Lodestar, and my Prize.   

3.  
No sail, nor wind, nor Sun I need,  
Her favours pass the silken Sail,  
Her smiles the Sunshine day exceed,  
And her sweet voice the softest gale?  
I take no height of stars above,  
Nor seek adventures, but her love.   

4.  
And if her heart I compass can,  
Where I my hopes have Anchored all;  
He that the fleece of Cholchos won,  
Made voyage poorer than I shall,  
By how much living Pearl's above  
Dead gold, and wealth is short of love.    

To Live and die.  

3.  
A Creature so strange, so wretched a one  
As I  
Can there be sound,  
For now alas I live, and anon  
I die,  
Feeling no wound;  
When but a look of my love I gain,  
O what a life it doth infuse!  
But when I taste of her sharp disaine,  
O how I die, how can I choose?   

2.  
Like as the Sun gives life to the flowers,  
When May  
Painteth the field,  
So when she smiles, her eye like the powers,  
Of Joy  
Doth to me yield,  
But as the Autumn's envious rain,  
Soon doth the summer's pride confuse  
Dashed with the storms of her Disdain,  
So do I die, how can I choose.   

3.  
Then 'tis no wonder that here is a man,  
Can live  
Now, and now die;  
Since there's a beauty that life and death can  
Both give  
Out of her Eye  
Ler her the wonder of time remain,  
And that I live let no man muse,  
While she me loves; and if she disdain,  
Must not I die, how can I choose?   

4.  
Has not her favour force to revive  
A heart  
Dying with pain?  
And has her scorn not power to deprive  
That part  
Of life again?  
Is there not life and death in her frame  
B●th at her powerful will to use,  
Then at her powerful will I am,  
Living or dead, how can I choose?    

The hunting of the Gods.  

1.  
SOngs of Shepherds, and Rustical Roundlayes,  
Formed of san●yes, and whistled on reeds,  
〈◊〉; to Solace young Nymphs upon holy days,  
Are too unworthy for wonderful deeds.  
〈◊〉 Ingenious  
●r winged Cylenius  
His lofty Genius,  
May seem to declare,  
In verse better coined,  
And voice more refined  
How States devin'd,  
Once hunted the Ha●e.   

●●●rs Enam●●●'d wi●h Pastimes Olympi●all,  
〈◊〉 and Planets that beautiful shone,  
Would no longer that earthly men only shall  
Swim in pleasure, and they but look on;  
Round about horned  
Lucina they swarmed,  
And her informed  
How minded they were;  
Each God and Goddess,  
To take humane bodies,  
As Lords and Ladies,  
To follow the Hare.   

3,  
chaste Diana applauded the Motion,  
And pale Proserpinae set in her place,  
Lights the Welkin, and governs the Ocean,  
While she conducted her Nephews in chase,  
And by her Example,  
Her Father to trample  
The old and ample  
Earth, leave the air,  
Neptune the Water,  
The Wine Liber Pater,  
And Mars the slaughter,  
To follow the Hare.   

4.  
Light god Cupid was hor●●● upon Pegasus,  
Borrowed of Muses with kisses and prayers,  
Strong Alcides upon cloudy Caucasus,  
Mounts a Centaur that proudly him bears.  
Postillian of the sky,  
Light heeled Mercury,  
Makes his Courser fly  
Fleet as the air,  
Yellow Apollo,  
The Kennel doth follow,  
And whoop and hollow  
After the hare   

Hymen ushers the Ladies; Astreaa  
The Just, took hands with Minerva the bold;  
Ceres the brown, with bright Cytherea;  
With Thet is the wanton, Bellona the old;  
Shamefaced Aurora,  
With subtle Pandora;  
And May with Flora,  
Did company bear;  
juwo was stated,  
Too high to be mated,  
But yet she hated  
Not hunting the hare.   

6.  
Drowned Narcissus, from his Metamorphosis  
Raised by Echo, new manhood did take;  
Snoring Somnus upstarted in Cineris,  
That this thousand year was not awake,  
To see club-footed  
Old Mulciber booted,  
And Paen promoted  
On Chirons Mare;  
Proud Faunus pouted,  
And AEolus shouted,  
And Momus flouted,  
But followed the Hare.   

Deep Melompus, and cunning Ichnobates,  
●●pe, and Tiger, and Harpy● the skies  
Rend wit roaring,  
Whilst huntsman-like Hercules  
●inds the plentiful horn to their cries,  
Till with varieties,  
To solace their Piety's,  
The wary Deities  
Reposed them where  
We shepherds were seated,  
And there we repeated,  
What we conceited  
Of their hunting the Hare.  
Young Amintas supposed the Gods came to breath  
(After some battles) themselves on the ground,  
●●rsis thought the stars came to dwell here beneath,  
And that hereafter the earth would go round,  
Coridon aged,  
With Phillis engaged,  
Was much enraged  
With jealous despair;  
But fury vaded,  
And h● was persuaded,  
When I thus applauded  
Their hunting the Hare.   

9  
Star's but Shadows were, state were but sorrow  
Had they no Motion, nor that no delight;  
Joys are lovial, delight is the marrow  
Of life, and Action the Axle of might.  
Pleasure depends  
Upon no other friends,  
And yet freely lends  
To each virtue a share,  
Only as measures,  
The Jewel of pleasures,  
Of pleasure the treasures  
Of hunting the Hare.   

10.  
Three broad Bowls to the Olympical Rector,  
His Troy borne Eagle he brings on his knee,  
jove to Phoebus Carouses in Nectar,  
And he to Hermes, and Hermes to me;  
Wherewith infused,  
I piped and I mused,  
In songs unused  
This sport to declare;  
And that the Rouse of jove,  
Round as his Sphere may move,  
Health to all that love  
Hunting the Hare.    

The Reading Beauty.  

●  
AS to these lines she lent a lovely look,  
Whereon not minding me she mused,  
●er fair Aspect became my book,  
And I her eyes (as they these lines) perused;  
●ove songs she read, to learn what love should be,  
And faster than she read she taught it me.   

2.  
For as no studied rules like stars above  
Can teach the knowledge of the skies.  
To dive into the depth of love,  
There is no rule, no learning like her Eyes:  
Why stoops she then to things below her reach?  
Why reads she love, that she herself can teach?   

3.  
Alas though we no other learning need  
In love, that may behold her face;  
She seeing not herself must read,  
To see what we so much desire to embrace.  
O that herself she saw: but O why so?  
She otherwise herself ●●o much doth know.   

4.  
Some nicer lover would to see her muse  
Bare envy to that happy book  
Whereon she seems to dote, and use  
To grant her slander by but halfe her lock:  
But such to me let her aspect be still;  
If one eye wounds so sore, two eyes will kill.    

The more than Fair.  

1.  
BE more kind than you are,  
Sweet love, or else less fair,  
So shall I feel less care,  
And you be no less rare.  
To wound the heart.  
Is beauty's part;  
But to restore  
The lovesick sore,  
Is to be more than saire   

2.  
If possible it were  
Not to be what you ar●  
Be more kind, or less saire,  
Use lips, and eyes forbear;  
Your smiles are Lures,  
My eyes adore,  
But lips implore:  
The kind are more than fair.   

The Beauteous are not fair,  
●hose coyness breeds despair;  
〈◊〉 those that friendly are,  
〈◊〉 beauteous, though not fair,  
Since to be kind,  
A beauteous mind,  
Doth best explore;  
Be kind therefore,  
And be far more than fair.   

No longer let my care  
insume my love in air,  
〈◊〉 kindness to me bare,  
●●at I may say and swear  
Os such as are  
But only fair,  
I knew before,  
The world had store.  
But you are more than fair   

Bright eyes and smiles to bear,  
〈◊〉 but a common wear:  
〈◊〉 you without compare,  
Will be as kind as fair,  
And make me then  
More blessed than men,  
As far as o'er,  
Your sex's store,  
Yourself are more than fair.    

Of Jonny and Jinny.  

1.  
THe pretty sweet jinny sat on a Hill,  
Where jonny the swain her see;  
He tuned his quill, and sung to her still,  
Whoop Jinny come down to me.   

2.  
Though jonny the valley, and jinny the Hill,  
Kept far above his degree;  
He bore her good will, and sung to her still,  
Whoop Jinny come down to me.   

3.  
But high was she seated, and so was she minded,  
His heart was humble as he;  
Her pride had her blinded, his love had him bended,  
Whoop Jinny, etc.   

4.  
The mountain is bare, and subject to air,  
Here meadows, here shadows be;  
There burneth the Sun, here Rivers do run,  
Whoop Jinny etc.   

5.  
All flowers do grace the valleys greenface,  
The mountain hath none but thee;  
Why wilt thou grow there, and all the rest here?  
Whoop Jinny etc.   

6.  
Narcissus his rose, Adonis here grows,  
That may thy examples be,  
Since they be came slain, for pride and disdain,  
Whoop Jinny etc.   

7.  
There Jinny keeps sheep, here jonny will keep  
Thyself and thy flock for thee;  
If jonny be worthy to keep thy flock for thee,  
Whoop Jinny etc.   

8.  
But pretty sweet jinny was loved of so many,  
That little delight had she  
To think upon jonny, that thought her so bonny,  
Whoop Jinny etc.   

9  
Though jinny thought ill of Ionny's good will,  
Yet jonny to jinny was free;  
He follows quill, and he hollows her still,  
Whoop Jinny come down to me.    

A Song.  

1.  
O Love whose force and might  
No power ere withstood;  
Thou forcest me to write,  
Come turn about Robin hood.   

2.  
Her Cresses that were wrought  
Most like the go●den sn●re,  
My loving heart has caught;  
As Mos did catch the Mare.   

3.  
Grant pity, else I die,  
Love so my heart bewitches,  
With grief I'll howl and cry,  
O how my elbow Itches.   

4.  
Tears overflow my sight  
With Floods of daily weeping,  
That in the silent night  
I cannot rest for sleeping.   

5.  
What is't I would not do  
To purchase one sweet smile;  
Bid me to China go,  
Faith I'll sit still the while.   

6.  
But since that all relief  
And comfort doth forsake me,  
I'll kill myself with grief,  
Nay then the Devil take me.   

7.  
Mark well my doleful hap,  
jove, Rector of the Thunder,  
Send down a fiery clap,  
And tear her smock asunder.    

The Rhodomontade,  
I'll tell you of a L●●t,  
With ● N●se live a Spout,  
Which some c●ll a s●out,  
And was so siout,  
That he had often sought,  
Full many about,  
With many asc●●●,  
And at'em would sh●●●,  
Then put 'em to 〈◊〉  
Nay beat' 〈…〉,  
Though in a greet 〈…〉,  
At men he would ●ront,  
And at women 〈…〉,  
His sood still was 〈◊〉,  
Which bred him the gout  
He was a true trout  
To good Alc when he mout  
And did always allow'●  
This yo● must not doubt  
I've heard him to vow't  
As he went in and out.   

And his Wife.  
HIs Wise's name was Grac●  
And had a good Face  
Yet had but little grace,  
she'd kiss in any place,  
Nay, to gather a brace,  
Which some say is base,  
And some did her ch●c●  
Into a pitiful case,  
She loved Cloves and Mace  
He● father cared the Mace  
For the Mayor in a place  
She still wears lace,  
And will keep on her pace  
When she 〈◊〉 a race  
For a very great space  
She fishes with a dace  
When she takes any place  
When she dances she'll race  
She'll not ba●e you an ace  
Of the truth of this she says.   

The Son Jack.  
Their son's name was Jack  
Who was very black  
And got many a knack  
And seldom did lack  
Unless Milk called la●  
At Cardus he would pack  
And was counted a qu●e●  
Nay, been brought to the rack,  
For siring a 〈◊〉  
Of corn, in a back  
Side, like a mad back  
Made's bones to crack  
Nay sometimes to cack,  
Till they gav● him some sack  
Nay, they h●ld him ●ack  
And did him thwack  
And never did slack  
Till he went to wrack,  
Yet with's lips he would smack  
And 〈◊〉 is true of Jack.   

The Daughter Nel.  
Their daughter's nams' Nell  
Who poor thing did dwell  
Full long in a Cell  
And there 'twas she fell  
That one rang her knell  
Being fallen into Hell  
The devils to quell  
And there I do smell  
That sh● than did sell  
Her ware very well  
She made 'em to yell  
And likewise to swell  
So they writ on a Sh●ll  
A very great Spell  
At long as an ●ll  
That she bore 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
For abusing in h●ll  
She had no 〈◊〉  
All this herself did tell,  
And all d●ne by Nell.   

A Song.  
Come hang up your care, and cast away sorrow;  
Drink on, he's a so● that e'er thinks of tomorrow:  
Good store of Terse-Claret s●upplyes every thing,  
For a man that is drunk is as great as a King;  
Let no one with Crosses, or Losses repine,  
But take a full dose of the juice of the Wine.  
Diseases and troubles are ne'er to be found,  
But in the damp place where the glass goes not round.   

A SONG. The Tune, I'll go no more to the New Exchange.  
NEver will I wed a Girl that's coy,  
Nor one that is too free;  
But she alone shall be my joy,  
That keeps a mean to me;  
For if too Coy, than I must court  
For a kiss as well as any;  
And if too free, I fear o'th' Sport  
I then may have too many.  

2.  
Nelly a Girl was proud and coy,  
But what good got she by it?  
When they'd a mind to kiss and toy,  
Then she'd be still unquiet;  
For of the four or five she had,  
They all have left her now,  
Her impertinent tricks did make 'em mad  
And so 'twou'd me, or you.   

3.  
Nanny was a Lass that was too free,  
And amorous withal;  
she'd ne'er with any disagree,  
But ready at their call;  
That some her freeness did impute  
Unto good nature in her,  
Others have said, without dispute  
she'd prove a private sinner.   

4.  
Then for a Girl, that's not too free,  
Or Coy, but at my call;  
Yet handsome I would have her be,  
And obliging unto all;  
That I may never say I have wed  
A Girl that's starched with Pride,  
Or sool, or ugly, or ill bred,  
I'd rather want a Bride.    

An Invitation to enjoyment.  

1.  
COme, O come, I brook no stay,  
He doth not love that can delay;  
See how the stealing night,  
Hath blotted out the light,  
And Tapers do supply the day.   

3.  
See the first ' Tapers almost gone,  
Thy flame like that will straight be none  
And I as it expire,  
Not able to hold fire,  
She looseth time that lies alone   

4.  
O let us cherish then these powers,  
Whilst we may yet call them ours;  
Then we best spend our time,  
When no dull zealous Chime,  
But sprightful kisses strike the hours.    

The Rural Dance about the Maypole. The Tune, the first Figure dance at Mr. Young's Ball in May 1671.  

1.  
COme lasses and lads,  
Take leave of your Dadds,  
And away to the Maypole hay;  
For every he  
Has got him a she  
With a Minstrel standing by;  
For Willy has gotten his jill,  
And jonny has got his jone,  
To jig it, jig it, jig it, jig it,  
Jig it up and down.   

2.  
Strike up says Wat,  
Agreed says Kate,  
And I prithee Fidler play,  
Content says Hodge,  
And so says Madge:  
For this is a Holiday.  
Then every man did put  
His Hat off to his Lass,  
And every Girl did curtsy.  
Curtsy, curtsy on the Grass.   

3.  
Begin says Hall,  
I, l, says Mall,  
we'll lead up Packintons' pound;  
No no, says Noll,  
And so says Doll,  
we'll first have Scllengers round;  
Then every man began to foot it round about;  
And every Girl did jet it, jet it, jet it in and out.   

4.  
Y'are out, says Dick,  
'Tis a lie, says Nick,  
The Fiddler played it false;  
'Tis true, says Hugh,  
And so says Sue,  
And so says nimble Alice;  
The Fiddler then began to play the Tune again,  
And every Girl did trip it, trip it, trip it to the men.   

Le's kiss, says jane,  
Content, says Nan,  
And so says every she;  
How many says Bat,  
Why three says Matt,  
For that's a maiden's fee;  
Bu● they instead of three did give 'em half a score,  
And they inkindnesse, gave 'em, gave 'em, gave 'em, as many more.   

6.  
Then after an hour  
They went to a bower  
And played for Ale and Cakes,  
And kisses too  
Until they were due,  
The Lasses kept the stakes.  
The Girls did then begin to quarrel with the men,  
And bid'em take their kisses back, and give 'em their own again.   

7.  
Yet there they sat,  
Until it was late,  
And tired the Fiddler quite,  
With singing and playing,  
Without any paying  
From morning until night.  
They told the fiddler than they'd pay him for his play,  
And each a 2 pence, 2 pence, 2 pence gave him, and went away.    

The unconstant Lover. 〈◊〉 Tune, the second Figure dance at Mr. Young's Ball May 1671.  

NOw out upon this constant love,  
I never was unto't inclined,  
● hate within that Sphere to move,  
Where I to one must be confined.  
● love to range about, and gaze,  
And often haunt the park and plays,  
A purpose for a Mistress new,  
Then bid the old one quite adieu.   

2.  
For he's for me, and only he  
That's constant to unconst●ancie;  
● day or two I can approve,  
But after that farewell to love:  
●or every thing's to change inclined,  
As Women, and the Moon, and wind▪  
●hen why not we as well as they,  
Since they have showed us all the way.   

●.  
For constancy in Love is thought  
To bring poor Lovers to their end;  
●hen constancy in Love is naught,  
When change brings every day a friend.  
The constant fool is whining still,  
But never can his fancy fill;  
Whilst we can sing, and sport, and play,  
And change our pleasure every day.    

A mock to one that drank nothing but Water. The Tune, A lover I'm born, and a Lover I'll be.  

1.  
FOr Bacchus I'm born, and for Bacchus I'll be  
And wish from good wine I may n●ver be free;  
Let drinking abound, '●is wi●e makes the creature,  
It strengthens the brain, and helps decayed nature;  
For he that by ●●inking can turn the world round▪  
By Bac●hus and 〈◊〉 deserves to be crowned.   

2.  
With health after health let the glass keep the motion  
Till ● make our brains dance like a ship on the Ocean  
When our senses are paled, and our reason does fail  
A little sound sleep will supply a fresh gale.  
Then wi●h wi●e that is brisk, & a girl that is won  
we'll drink, &c we'll kiss, & we'll never have done.    

The Drinking Song on two Mistresses▪ the one furnish● th●● with wine, and tother with money. The Tune, The Gang.  

●.  
COme boys, leave off your toys,  
And trole about the sack;  
We know 'tis good to cheer the blood,  
And fortify the back.  
●Tis that will make you fat,  
And cherish still the brain;  
Nay studd the face with such a grace,  
Like Rubies died in grain.   

2.  
Drink about, till all be out  
The drawer will fill 't again,  
A apox o'th' Watch, ne'er shut the hatch,  
The clock has struck but ten;  
Then a glass to th' Jovial lass●,  
That filled our pates with wine;  
And here's another to the tother,  
That furnished us with Coin.   

3.  
Come drink, we want no chink,  
Hark how my pockets sound,  
Away with't then, com●●oo't again,  
Begin another round;  
Then jack, this Glass of Sack  
Unto thy pretty Nell;  
And here's to thine, this bowl of wine,  
Dear Tom, thou lov'st so well.   

4.  
Come says one, le's all be gone,  
For our pates are throughly lined;  
Y●● he was banged, nay some say hanged,  
That left his drink behind;  
Then all, began to call,  
Come drawer what's to pay?  
Each took the cup, and drank it up,  
And so they went away.    

A Song.  

1.  
LEt Fortune and Phillis frown if they please,  
I'll no more on their Deities call,  
Nor trouble the Fates, but give myself ease,  
And be happy in spite of 'em all;  
I will have my Phillis, if I once go about her;  
Or if I have not, I'll live better without her.   

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

A SONG.  

1.  
AS I walked in the woods one evening of late,  
A Lass was deploring her hapless estate,  
In a languishing posture poor maid she appears,  
All swelled with her sighs●and blubed with her tears:  
She sighed and she sobbed, and I found it was all,  
For a little of that which Harry gave Doll.   

2.  
At last she broke out, wretched she said,  
Will no youth come succour a languishing maid,  
With what he with ease and with pleasure may give,  
Without which alas poor I cannot live.  
Shall I never leave sighing and crying and all,  
For a little of that which Harry gave Doll.   

3.  
At first when I saw a young man in the place,  
My colour would fade, and then flush in my Face;  
My breath would grow short, and I shivered all o'er,  
My breasts never popped up and down so before;  
I scarce knew for what▪ but now find it was all,  
For a little of that which Harry gave Doll.    

A Song.  
O The sad Day  
When friends shall shake their heads, and say  
Of miserable me:  
Hark how he Groans,  
Look how he pants for breath,  
See see how he struggles with the pangs of Death;  
When they shall say of these dear Eyes,  
How hollow and how dim they be.  
Mark how his b●est doth swell and ●ise  
Against his potent enemy:  
When some old friend shall step to my bed's side,  
And touch my i'll face, & thence shall gently slide;  
But when his next companions say,  
How does he do, what hopes? shall turn away,  
Answering only with a lift up▪ hand,  
Who who can his fate withstand?  
Then shall a Gasp or two do more  
Than e'er my Rhetoric could before,  
Persuade the World to trouble me no more, no more,  
Persuade the world to trouble me no more.   

A Song.  
O Sorrow, Sorrow say where dost thou dwell?  
In the lowest room of Hell:  
Art thou born of Humane race?  
No, no, I have a furial face:  
Art thou of City, or Town, or Court?  
I to every place resort.  
Why, O why, into the world was sorrow sent?  
Men afflicted best repent.  
What dost thou seed on? Broken sleep.  
What tak'st thou pleasure in? to weep,  
To sob, to pine, to groan,  
To wring my hands, to sit alone.  
When, O when, shall sorrow quiet have?  
Never, never, never, never,  
Never till she finds a grave,  
Never till she finds a grave,   

A Song.  
Cheer up my Mates, the wind does fairly blow,  
Clap on more sail, and never spare;  
Farewell all Lands, for now we are  
In the wide Sea of Drink,  
And marrily, merrily, merrily we go.  
Bless me'tis ho●, another bowl of Wine,  
And we shall Cut the burning Line.  
hay boys she sends away,  
And by my head I know,  
We round the world are sailing now.  
What dulmen are those to tarry at home,  
When abroad they may wantonly roam,  
And gain such experience, and spy to  
Such countries and wonders as I do?  
But prithee good Pilot take heed what you do,  
And fail not to touch at Peru;  
With Gold there the vessel we'll store,  
And never never be poor,  
No never be poor any more.   

The foolish proud Lover.  

1.  
NOr Love, nor Fate, can I accuse of hate,  
That my Clariada now is from me gone;  
But I confess, 'tis my unworthiness  
That I in sorrow thus am left alone:  
I doted on her, and thought to he won her,  
But woe is me I still must think upon her,  
Which is the cause of all my smart;  
She looked so pretty, and talked so witty,  
None that ere I saw in Town or in City  
Ere like her could thus surprise my heart.   

2.  
Had I set my heart, to have loved her but in part,  
As only to enjoy her angel's face,  
Her curious eye, or cheeks of rosy die,  
Or lip, or any one peculiar grace;  
Butmy sad refusing one, must all be losing,  
O that I had used discretion in my choosing,  
Then I might a lived, and not a died:  
But like I●arus I by soaring up too high,  
With his waxen wings so ne●e the Sun to fly,  
Am justly punished for my foolish pride.   

O you Powers Divine, I'll offer at your shrine,  
If you will grant me this when I am gone;  
That no punishment on her her may e'er be sent,  
The fault was only mine, and mine alone:  
Also I do crave, this benefit to have,  
That this Motto may be fixed upon my grave;  
Here's lies one by foolish pride was slain,  
That who ere comes near may gently shed a tear  
On my Hearse, and say, O 'twas severe,  
So small offence should breed such mic kle pain,    

On his Mistress' Garden of Herbs.  
HEarts-case, an he●b that sometimes hath been seen  
In my Love's garden plot to flourish green,  
Is dead and withered with a wind of woe,  
And bitter Rue in place thereof doth grow:  
The cause I find to be, because I did  
Neglect the Herb called Time, which now doth bid  
Me never hope, nor look once more again  
To gain Hearts-case, to ease my heart of pain;  
One hope is this, in this my woeful case,  
My Rue, though bitter, may prove Herb of grace.   

The Italian Pedlar.  

1.  
Maid's see what you lack  
Ere I open my pack,  
For here is that will please you;  
Do you dream in your beds,  
Or with your Maidenheads  
Be you troubled, I will ease you.   

2.  
Is there any one among  
These married men strong,  
Has a head of his Wives making?  
I have caps to be worn, that shall cover his ho●ne,  
And keep his brow fro●●aking.   

3.  
Does any man mistrust, that his wife is unjust,  
Or that she loves to be ranging?  
I have that in my box, which excee 's Italian locks,  
'Twill keep her chaste: that's a strange thing.   

4.  
Is there any woman here, has been married a year,  
And not been made a Mother?  
I have that at my back, shall supply her of that lack,  
And I'll use her sored, like a Brother.   

5.  
I have fine Gloves for you and your Loves,  
Bands, Handkerchiefs, and Laces;  
And I've Knots and Roses, and many pretty posies▪  
And mask▪ for your bad faces.   

6.  
I have sine bodkins to, that I can furnish you,  
To keep your Coises from tearing;  
And I have precious stones, ordained for the nonce,  
Will delight you in the wearing.   

7.  
I have that wherewith if you well rub your Teeth,  
They will look like Alabafter;  
And powder for your hair, that will make you look fair▪  
I wender you come no faster.  
Then come away, and do not stay,  
For hence I must I tell you;  
or when that I am gone, you will hardly find one  
That such precious Ware can sell you.    

In pra●se of the Black-Iack.  

1.  
BE your liquor small, or as thick as mud,  
The cheating bottle cries, good, good, good,  
Whereat the master begins to storm,  
'Cause he said more than he could perform,  
And I wish that his heirs may never want Sack,  
That first devised the bonny black Jack.   

2.  
No Tankard, Flagon, Bottle nor Jugg  
Are half so good, or so well can hold Tug,  
For when they are broke or full of cracks,  
Then they must fly to the brave black Jacks,  
And I wish that his, etc.   

3.  
When the Bottle and Jack stands together, O fie on't,  
The Bottle looks just like a dwarf to a Giant;  
Then had we not reason jack's to choose,  
For this ' l make Boots, when the Bottle mends shoes,  
And I wish etc.   

4.  
And as for the bottle you never can fill it  
Without a tunnel, but you must spill it,  
'Tis as hard to get, in as 'tis to get out:  
'tis not so with a Jack, for it runs like a spout.   

5.  
And when we have drank out all our store,  
The Jack goes for Barm to brew us some more;  
And when our Stomaches with hunger have bled,  
Then it marches for more to make us some bread,  
And I wish etc.   

6.  
I now will cease to speak of the Jack,  
But hope his assistance I never shall lack,  
And I hope that now every honest man,  
Instead of Jack will y'clip him john,  
And I wish that his heirs may never want Sack,  
That first devised the bonny black jack.    

A SONG.  

1.  
CAElia I loved thee  
Though in vain you boast;  
But since I have proved thee,  
I find my labour lost,  
Many may to love pretend;  
But you will never find,  
Seek country o'er, try any friend,  
One half so true, so kind;   

2.  
Farewell unkind one,  
Since you so design,  
And see if ●ou can find one,  
Whose love can equal mine;  
If by chance you meet a man,  
That m●y your fancy take,  
Be wise, be kind, do what you can,  
And love him for my sake;  
Yet in your chiefest pleasure think  
How my poor heart doth ache.   

3.  
Each hour sporting,  
Nothing can be more;  
Each minute courting,  
Like one ne●e loved before.  
But should he forsake his nest,  
And being wellfeather d fly  
From you, to be another's guest,  
You'd sigh, and with me cry,  
I loved, and was not loved again.  
And so for love must die.    

The Jealous, but mistaken Girl. To the Scotch tune also.  

1.  
Prithee tell me Phillis,  
Why so pensive now,  
I see that sadness still is  
Fixed upon thy brow▪  
And those charming eyes  
That were of late so bright,  
In sighs and tears,  
And other fears,  
Have almost lost their sight;  
Let this suffice,  
I sympathise  
With thee both day and night.   

2.  
Damon dost thou ask it,  
Thou art the cause of all,  
Therefore do not mask it,  
For thou hast wrought my fall;  
For I gave thee a Ring  
Which thou hast Celia gave,  
Our truelove's band,  
'twas on her hand,  
Which Ring thy life did save;  
But woe is me,  
Thy falsity  
Has brought me to my grave.   

3.  
Damon then began  
On Phillis for to smile,  
She called him perjured man,  
And should no more beguile,  
No my dearest Phill,  
I blame thy Jealousy;  
Our truelove's band  
〈◊〉 my hand  
Which thou didst give to me;  
And Coridon  
Made Celia one,  
By that which came from thee.   

4.  
Long she sat ashamed,  
And hid her bashful head;  
Her jealousy she blamed,  
And said she was but dead,  
Unless that gentle Damon  
Pardon this offence,  
And let me rest  
Upon his breast,  
And there my suit commence;  
I shall not doubt  
To sue it out  
Before I came from thence.   

●.  
Then he did embrace her,  
And gave her kisses store,  
And vowed that he would place her  
Where none was ere before,  
That is, within his heart,  
Which none show d ere remove▪  
In spite of fate  
Would be her mate,  
And constant be in love,  
And I say she  
As true to thee,  
As is the Turtle-Dove.    

The Fair but Cruel Girl.  

1.  
THe Nymph that undoes me is fair and unkind,  
No less than a wonder by nature designed;  
She's the grief of my heart, but joy of my eye,  
The cause of my flame, that never can die.   

2.  
Her Lips, from whence wit obligingly flows,  
Has the colour of Cherries, and smell of the Rose;  
Love and Destiny both attends on her will,  
She saves with a smile, with a frown she can kill.   

3.  
The desperate Lover can hope no red●esse,  
Where beauty and rigour, are both in excess:  
In Celia they meet, so unhappy am I;  
Who sees her must love, who loves her must die.    

The Bathing Girls: To the common Galliard Tune.  

1.  
IT was in june, and 'twas on Barnaby Bright too,  
A time when the days are long, and nights are short,  
A ●rew of merry Girls, and that in the night too,  
Resolv●d to wash in a river, and there to sport;  
And there (poor things) they then resolv●d to be merry too,  
And with them did bring good store of junketting stuff,  
As Biscuit, and Cakes, and Sugar, and Cider, and Perry too,  
Of each such a quantity, that was more than enough.   

2.  
But mark what chanc●t unto this innocent crew then,  
Who thought themselves secure from any ear;  
They knew 'twas dark, that none cou d take a view then,  
And all did seem to be void of any fear;  
Then every one uncased themselves, both smock & all  
And each expected first who should begin;  
And that they might stay but an hour, they told the Clock and all:  
Then all in a Te-he-ing vain did enter in.   

●.  
But now comes out the Tale I meant to tell ye,  
For a Crew of Jovial Lads were there before,  
And finding there some viands for their belly,  
They eased 'em then poor hearts of all their store;  
Then every Lad sat down upon the Grass there,  
And whispered thanks to th' Girls for their good Cheer▪  
In which they drank a health to every Lass there,  
That then were washing & rinsing without any fear.   

4.  
And when they had pleased (and filled) their bellies and palates too,  
They back did come unto the foresaid place,  
And took away their Smocks, and both their Wallets too▪  
Which brought their good Bubb, and left them in pitiful case,  
For presently they all came out tothth' larder there,  
That it put'em unto their shifts their Smocks to find;  
I think, says one, my shift is a little farther there,  
ay, I, says another, for yours did lie by mine.   

5.  
At last, says one, the Devil a smock is here at all,  
The Devil, a bit of bread, or drop of drink,  
They've took every morsel of our good cheer and all  
And nothing but Gowns and Petticoats left, as I think,  
At last, says one, if they'd give us our Smocks again,  
And likewise part of what we hither brought,  
We shall be much oblieg d, and think'em Gentlemen,  
And by this foolish example be better taught.   

6.  
Although in the River they were as many as crickets there,  
'Twixt laughing and fretting their state they did condole;  
And then came one of the Lads from out of the thickets there  
And told 'em he'd bring 'em their smocks, and what was stole,  
They only with Petticoats on, like Jipsies were clad then,  
He brought 'em their Smocks, and what he had promised before.  
They fell to eat, and drink as if they'd been mad there,  
And glad they were all, they'd got so much of their store.   

7.  
And when they all had made a good repast there,  
They put on their clothes, and all resolved to be gone;  
Then out comes all the lads in very great haste there,  
And every one to the other than was known;  
The girls did then conjure the lads that were there,  
To what had past their lips should still be sealed,  
Nay more than that they made 'em all to swear there,  
To which they did, that nothing should be reveal d.   

8.  
Then each at other did make a pass at kissing then,  
And round it went to every one levelly coil,  
But thinking that at home they might be missing then,  
And feared that they had stayed too great a while;  
Then hand in hand they altogether marched away,  
And every lad conveyed his Mistress home,  
Again they kissed, than every Lass her man did pray,  
That what had passed, no more of that but Mum.    

The unparalleled Lady: The Tune, 'Twixt Greece and Troy.  

1.  
When first I saw my Coeli'as' face,  
O how my heart was Inflamed with love;  
I deemed her of no humane race,  
But Angel-like dropped from above;  
Her Starlike eyes with their glimmering glances  
Than shined so bright,  
Like the greatest Comet, when we look upon i●  
Till it takes away the sight.   

2.  
Her Nose is like a Promontory,  
Which overlooks some pleasant place,  
Her Cheeks like Roses in their glory,  
And Teeth of Oriental race;  
Her Coral lips, like the Cherries when  
They're growing on the Tree;  
But the greatest Bliss is,  
Thence to gather kisses,  
Would the crop belonged to me.   

3.  
And underneath her snow-white neck,  
There you may find an Ivory Plain,  
On which two Crystal mounts are set  
Tipped with a Ruby-fount in grain,  
This is the place, which formerly was  
Called the milky-way.  
O that I might tipple still  
At such a Nipple,  
And forever there might s●ay.   

4.  
Her hands are of so pure a white,  
That with the Swan they dare to vie;  
But when upon a Lu●e they light,  
Than you will hear such Harmony:  
But when her voice and that together  
Then play their parts,  
You'd think the Spheres united,  
And thither had invited  
All, to Captivate their hearts.   

5.  
Her feet were so Epitomised,  
Like peeping-mices did still appear,  
That all the crew were then surprised  
To see her dance a measure there▪  
She moved so well, you'd think she had not  
Danced then, but flown:  
I would spend a Talon,  
For to be her Gallant,  
And call her still mine own.    

The Politic Girl. The Tune The Duke of Monmouths' jig.  

1.  
MY dearest Katy, prithee be but constant now,  
And whatsoever is pa●t, I shall forget I vow;  
Do thou be kind, and give me but thy hand upon't,  
And for my faith thou needest not doubt or stand upon't;  
I'll furnish thee with all the Cakes in season s●ill,  
And whatsoever thou shalt desire in reason still;  
Nay more than that, thy Annal endue I'll pay to thee,  
And in all moderate things will still give way to thee.   

2.  
I must confess thy Pension came but flow of late,  
Which is the cause I think that thou didst change thy mate;  
For when the Sinewy-part of love is took away,  
We know the strength thereof will lessen every day:  
But now thou knowst the Tide is turned my Bonny Kate,  
My father's dead, and we shall want no money Kate;  
For he by Will has made me heir of all my dear,  
That we no more in debt I hope shall fa●l my dear.   

3.  
Thou seest how plainly now I've told my mind to thee,  
And also findest that I will still be kind to thee;  
What Remora then can stop the course of joining now  
Our hearts and hands, come Katy no repining now;  
She told him then, do you forgive but my past faults,  
And I will likewise pardon all your by past faults;  
He called her then his Mistress and his goddess to,  
And then they joined their hands & lip's & body to.   

4.  
Thus have you seen this jarring couple now agree,  
And all mistakes are now knit up in Amity,  
She slighted all addresses he did make to her.  
Because she found his purse could never speak to her;  
But when she saw the Ginny birds to fly again,  
She then resolved the knot of love to ●ye again,  
And so 'twill last till all the birds are fled and gone,  
Then march herself, and give it out she's dead and gone,    

The Amorous Girl.  
To the Tune of The crab of the wo●d.  

1.  
THere's none so pretty,  
As my sweet Betty,  
She bears away the Bell;  
For sweetness and neatness,  
And all compleatness,  
All other Girls doth excel.   

2.  
When ever we meet,  
she'll lovingly greet  
Me still with a how d'ye do;  
Well I thank you, quoth I,  
Then she will reply,  
So am I Sir the better for you   

3.  
I asked her how,  
She told me, not now,  
For walls had cares and eyes▪  
Nay she bid me take heed,  
What ever I did,  
For 'tis good to be merry and wise.   

4.  
Then I took her by th' hand,  
Which she did not withstand,  
And I gave her a smirking kiss;  
She gave me another  
Just like the tother;  
Quoth I, what a comfort is this?   

5.  
This put me in heart  
To play o'er my part  
That I had intended before;  
But she bid me to hold,  
And not be too bold,  
Until she had fastened the door.   

6.  
Then she went to the Hatch,  
To see that the Latch  
And crannies were all cocksure,  
And when she had done,  
She bid me come on,  
For now we were both secure.   

7.  
And what we did there,  
I dare not declare,  
But think that silence is best;  
And if you will know,  
Why I kissed her, or so,  
But I'll leave you to guests at the rest.    

The two virtuous Sisters: The Tune The Gun-steet.  

1.  
MY Cousin Moll's an arrant whore,  
And so is her sister Kate,  
They kicked their mother out o door,  
And broke their Father's pate;  
And all because they craved a bit,  
I mean a bit alone Sir,  
For they with a bit would give 'em a knock,  
That's a bit and a knock, or none Sir.   

2.  
They're cleanly too, I needs must say,  
As any Girls i'th' town.  
They sweep the house a new found way,  
That's once a quarter round;  
So fine 'tis kept, that when 'tis swept,  
I speak ● in their defence Sir,  
▪ 'twill yield at a spur●, in dust and dirt.  
Come fourteen or fifteen pen●● 〈◊〉.   

3.  
So fine and neat they dress the●● meat,  
I thought it always best  
To let it alone, till all was gone,  
And then to eat the rest;  
For he that puts a bit in his guts,  
And did but see the dressing,  
No Physic could e'er give a vomit so clear,  
Which I think is a notable blessing.   

4.  
Some Whores are counted shifters to▪  
But they did hate 'em all,  
They shift their Smocks with much ado  
But every Spring and Fall.  
They say 'tis good to cleanse the blood,  
And think 'em worth the turning,  
And when they're black upon their back,  
They call it inside mourning.   

5.  
They will be drunk a little to,  
I mean but twice a day,  
They I swear and roar, and drink and spew,  
And then they down will lay;  
And so they'll sleep,▪ till day gi'en peep,  
Then call for more by dozen,  
And to my friend there s now an end  
Of both my dirty Cousins.    

The beneficial wedding. The Tune, Phil: Porters dream.  

ANd I have a mind to be married,  
And so has you know who,  
We both too long have tarried,  
And therefore I mean to woe:  
Then I did give her a Buss,  
And she gave me a ring,  
And so we bust, and kissed and bust,  
And kissed like any thing.   

2.  
Her Grandsire gave her a Cow,  
And her Grannam a Ewe and Lamb,  
She said sheed suckle it too,  
Until it had left the dam;  
Her Uncle gave her a hog,  
Her Aunt a Teeming Sow,  
For Bacon and souse, to keep the house,  
And make 'em puddings enough.   

3.  
Her father gave her a Gown,  
Her Mother a Petticoat,  
Which was of a mingl d brown,  
The best that could be bought,  
Her brother gave her a Cock,  
And her sister a breeding Hen,  
To tread and breed, and breed and tread.  
And tread, and breed again.   

3.  
Her Cousin took a Care,  
To give her a Rug was new,  
His wife did give her a pair  
Of Sheets and Blankets too;  
But she had a special friend  
That was a young Upholster,  
You must not know the reason now,  
Did give her a Bed, and a Bolster.   

4.  
A friend did give her a Waistcoat,  
And Hose, and Shoes, and Hat,  
Another did give her a la●'t Coat,  
But 'tis no matter for that  
So long as 'tis our own,  
No matter how it come,  
They keep her fine, and give her Wine▪  
But no more of that but Mum.   

5.  
Another did take her a house,  
and pay d a Twelvemonths Ren●,  
And furnished me and my spouse  
With what at the Wedding was spent;  
Then we desired to know,  
What trade we both should drive;  
They said good Ale would neve● fail  
If ever we meant to thrive.   

6.  
We both are ●itted now I think,  
With store of household stuff,  
And likewise clothes and meat and drink  
As much as is enough;  
But if we chance to want,  
My Wife has store of friends,  
Which I connive at, because they're private,  
And so our Wedding ends.    

A SONG.  

1.  
GEt you gone, you will und● me,  
If you love me ●on't p●●●ue me,  
Let that inclination ●erish,  
Which I dare ●o longer ● errish,  
Be content y'av● won the 〈◊〉,  
'Twere base to hurt me, now I yield.   

2.  
With harmless thoughts I did begin,  
But in the crowed love 〈…〉  
I knew him not, 〈…〉,  
So innocent, ●o full of play.  
Is ported thus with young desire,  
Cheered with his light, freed from his fire.   

3.  
But now his teeth and claws are grown,  
Let me this fatal Lion shun;  
You found me harmless, leave me so,  
For were I not, you'd leave me too;  
But when you change remember still,  
'Twas my misfortune not my will.    

A SONG. Being an Answer to give o'er foolish heart, or were the Gods so severe, and to t●at Tune.  

1.  
HE's a fool in his heart, that takes any care  
Of women's vain words be they never so fair;  
Though she sigh and pretends unto Love ne'er so long,  
she's double in heart, and betrays with her Tongue:  
They still are as false as they were heretofore,  
Their nature is such, they can ne'er give it o'er.   

2.  
They would by their craft's of which they have store,  
Inveigle men's hearts their looks to adore,  
And if they once find they cannot prevail,  
Overcharged with despite their faces grow pale;  
There's nothing that can their fancy please more,  
Than to see foolish men their feature adore.   

3.  
They would by their frowns to observance persuade,  
The men they do fancy their slaves they have made,  
And to be sure they will Tyrannise more,  
If a man do but once their pity implore.  
Why then should we men frail Women adore,  
Since their pride is so great, and their pity no more,   

4.  
But sure all that Sex can ne'er prove so vain,  
To sport or delight in a true-lovers pain;  
When a languishing eye in a Lover they view  
To their cruelty sure, they must needs bid adieu;  
Where good humour I find, I there will adore,  
Say the world what it will, I will never give o'er.    

A mock to the Song of Harry gave Doll, and to that Tune.  

1.  
AS I walk 't in the woods one Evening of late,  
A Girl was deploring her hapless estate;  
●he sighed and she sobbed; Ah! wretched she said,  
Will no youth come sucker lafoy anguishing Maid?  
Shall I sigh and cry, and look pale and wan,  
And languish for ever for want of a man?  
Shall I sigh and cry and look pale and wan,  
And languish etc.   

2.  
Alas when I saw a young man in the place,  
My colour did fade, and then flushed in my face,  
My breath wou d grow short, and I shivered all o'er,  
I thought 'twas an Ague, but alas it was more:  
For e'er since I have sighed, and do what I can,  
I find I must Languish for want of a man;  
For e'er since I have sighed; and do what I can,  
I find I must, etc.   

3.  
In bed all the night, I weep on my pillow,  
To see some Maids happy, whilst I wear the Willow,  
I revenge myself on the innocent sheet,  
Wherein I have oft made my teeth for to meet,  
But I fear 'tis in vain▪ let ●●e do what I can,  
I must languish for ever for want of ● man;  
But in my despair, I'll die if I can  
And languish no longer for want of a man.    

A Late Song.  

1.  
HOw charming are those pleasant pains,  
Which the successful lover gains.  
O● how the Longing spirit flies,  
On scorching sighs from dying eyes,  
Whose intermixing rays impart,  
Loves welcome message from the heart?   

2.  
Then how the Active pulse grows warm  
To every s nse gives the alarm  
But oh the rashness, and the qualms  
When Love unites the melting Palms!  
What ecstasies, what hopes and fears,  
What pretty talk, and Amorous tears?   

3.  
To these a thousand vows succeed,  
And then, O me, still we proceed,  
Till sense and souls are bathed in bliss,  
Think dear Aminda think on this,  
And curse those hours we did not prove  
The ravishing delights of Love.    

A Theatre Song.  

I Must confess not many years ago.  
'Twas death when e'er my Mistress answered no;  
Then I was subject to her Female yoke,  
And stood or fell by every word she spoke;  
But now I find the Intrigues of love to be,  
Nought but the Follies of our infancy.   

2.  
I can a Rich or handsome Lady Court,  
Either for my convenience or for sport;  
But if the one be proud or the other Coy,  
I cannot break my sleep for such a Toy;  
My heart is now for all assaults prepar d,  
And will not be commanded or ensnared.    

The new Song in Charles the eighth set by Mr. Pelham Humphrey's.  

OH love if ere thou wilt ease a heart  
That owns thy power Divine,  
And bleeds with thy too cruel dart,  
Take pity now on mine;  
Under thy Shades I fainting lie,  
A thousand times I wished to die;  
But when I find cold death too nigh,  
I grieve to lose my pleasing pain  
And call my wishes back again.   

And thus as I sat all alone  
In the shady myrtle Grove;  
And to each gentle sigh and moan  
Some neighbouring Echo gave a groan,  
Came by the man I love;  
O how I strove my grief to hide,  
I panted, blushed and almost died.  
And did each tattling Echo chide,  
For fear some breath of moving air  
Should to his ears my sorrow bear.   

And Oh you powers, I die to gain  
But one poor panting kiss,  
Glad yet I'd be on racks of pain,  
Ere I'd one thought or wish retain  
That honour thinks amiss:  
Thus are poor maids unkindly used,  
By love and nature both abused,  
Our tender hearts all ease refuse;  
And when we burn with secret flame,  
Must bear our griefs, or die with shame.    

On his Mistress that loved Hunting.  

1.  
LEave Celia, leave the woods to chase,  
'Tis not a sport, nor yet a place  
For one that has so sweet a face.   

2.  
Nets in thy hand, Nets in thy brow,  
In every limb a snare, and thou  
Dost lavish them thou carest not how.   

3.  
Fond Girl these wild haunts are not best  
To hunt: nor is a Savage beast  
A fit prey for so sweet a breast.   

4.  
O do but cast thine eyes behind,  
I'll carry thee where then shalt find  
A tame heart of a better kind.   

5.  
One that hath set soft snares for thee,  
Snares where if once thou fettered be,  
Thou ● never covet to be free.   

6.  
The Dews of April, the Winds of May  
That flowrs the Meads, and glads the Day,  
Are not more soft, more sweet than they.   

7.  
And when thou chancest for to kill,  
Thou needst not fear no other ill  
Than Turtles suffer when they Bill.    

On a Scrivener.  
HEre to a period is a Scrivener come;  
This is his last sheet, full point and total sum  
Of all aspersions, I excuse him not,  
'Tis plain, he lived not without many a blot;  
Yet he no ill example showed to any,  
But rather gave good copies unto many.  
He in good Letters always had been bred,  
And hath writ more, than many men have read.  
He Rulers had at his command by law,  
Although he could not hang, yet he could draw.  
He did more, Bondmen make then any,  
A dash of's pen alone did ruin many,  
That not without all reason we may call  
His letters great or little, Capital;  
Yet 'tis the Scriuner s fate as ●ure as Just,  
When he hath all done, than he falls to dust.   

On a Sexton.  
I many graves have made, yet enjoyed none,  
This which I ma e not, I possessed alone;  
Each corpse withoug embalming it did serve  
My life like precious balsam to preserve;  
But death then kind was, now cruel found I have;  
Robbing me of life, without my living grave;  
And yet 'twas kind still to, for in the grave  
Where once I labour had, now peace I have;  
I made good use of time, and night and day  
Took care and heed, how th'hours go away,  
I still was ready for a grave, nor shall  
I grieve at what I most joyed, a Funeral  
As I was wont, no not so prone as then,  
Out of the grave I shall arise again.   

On a FART.  
I Sing the praises of a Fart,  
That I may do't by terms of Art;  
I will invoke no deity,  
But buttered Pease and Furmetie;  
And think their help sufficient  
To fit and furnish my intent;  
When Virgil's gnat, and Ovid's flea,  
And Homer's frog strove for the day;  
There is no reason in my mind,  
Why a Fart should come behind,  
Since that we may it parallel,  
With any thing that doth excel;  
Music is but a Fart that s sent,  
From the guts of an Instrument;  
The Scholar Farts, when he gains  
Learning with cracking of his Brains,  
And when he hath spent much pain and oil,  
Thomas and others to reconcile,  
For to learn the distracting art.  
What doth he get by it? not a Fart;  
The thunder that does roar so loud  
Is but the Farting of a Cloud;  
And if withal the wind do stir up  
Rain, then 'tis a Farting Syrup;  
The Soldier makes his foes to run,  
With bu● the farting of a Gun,  
That's if he make the Bullets whistle,  
Else 'tis no better than a sizle;  
●ine boats that by the times about,  
Are but Farts several Docks let out;  
They are but Farts, the words we say,  
Words are but words, and so are they;  
Farts are as good as Land, for both  
We hold in Tail, and let 'em both;  
As soon as born they by and by  
Fart-like bu● only sing and die;  
Applause is but a Fart, the rude  
Blast of the whole multitude;  
And what is working Ale I pray;  
But Farting Barm, which makes a way  
Out at the bunghole, by farting noise,  
When we do hear its sputtring voice;  
And when new drank, and without hopps,  
It makes us fart, and seldom stops.  
I more of Farts would write I vow;  
But for my guts I cannot now,  
For now they wonderfully rumble,  
And my stomach begins to grumble,  
Which makes me think that Farts e'er long  
Will at my nock there find a Tongue,  
And there sing out their own praises,  
In thundering and in choking Phrases;  
Where I leave them, and them to you,  
And so I bid you all adieu.  
What I have said take in good part,  
If not, I do not care a Fart.   

Silence the best Wooer.  

1.  
WRong not dear Empress of my heart,  
The merits of true passion,  
With thinking that he feels no smart,  
That sues for no compassion.   

2.  
Since that my thoughts serve not to prove  
The conquest of your Beauty,  
It comes not from defect of Love,  
But from excess of duty.   

3.  
For think you that I sue to serve  
A Saint of such perfection  
As all desire, but none deserve  
A place in her affection.   

4.  
I rather choose to want relief,  
Than venture the relieving,  
When glory recommends the grief,  
Despair distrusts th'achieving.   

5.  
Thus the desires that aim too high  
For any mortal lover,  
When reason cannot make▪ 'em die,  
Discretion doth them cover.   

6.  
Yet when discretion doth believe,  
The Plaints that they shall utter;  
Then thy discretion may perceive,  
That Silence is a Suitor.   

7.  
Silence in Love betrays more woe,  
Than words though ne'er so witty;  
●he beggar that is dumb you know  
Deserveth double pity.   

8.  
Then mis-conceive not, dearest heart,  
My true though secret passion;  
He smarteth most that hides his smart,  
And sues for no compassion.    

Beauty is not the guide to Affection.  
OF Beauty there's no rule, neither can be,  
Since that I like, pleases not him, nor thee.  
One likes a dimpled Cheek, a double chin,  
One likes a sparkling Eye, and so again;  
One likes a lusty lass, to quench his fire,  
Another, might he have but his desire,  
Would reject all we have named before,  
And nor double Chin, nor dimpled cheek adore,  
Neither would care for Sparkling Eye a bit,  
And reject Lustiness, but adore Wit;  
One likes a Lady that is short, and small;  
Another one perhaps that's big and tall;  
You like a Lady cause she's very free,  
I don't, for fear I should cornuted be;  
One likes a Woman, for such, and such a grace,  
One cares for nothing but a handsome face;  
One loves to see flaxen locks hang down,  
Another man delights in lovely brown.  
Thus all men vary you do see, and now  
Where's the good man I pray that kissed the Cow?  
FINIS.