CUPIDS COURT of EQUITY.  

The scornful Lady quickly took,  
While she her love Disdained:  
She was pricked down in Cupid's Book,  
His Vassal she remained.   
Tune of, When first I bid my Love Good-Morrow.  
 
 

WHen first I bid my Love good morrow,  
with tear in Eye, and hand on breast;  
My heart was even drowned in sorrow,  
and I poor soul was much oppressed.   

The glances from her Eye so darted,  
I her captive soon was made;  
The Prisoner took was ,  
this I find is Cupid's Trade.   

All my reason then was banished.  
and I left in Captivity:  
My hoped for joys were quickly vanished,  
by the Lightning of her Eye.   

All my hopes at once were blasted,  
by one seeming scornful look:  
The joys I hoped for to have tasted,  
had no Record in Cupid's Book.   

I sighed, I grouned just like a Lover,  
ready just for to departed;  
And had no hopes for to recover.  
for she, Oh she had broke my heart.   

Away I went without her smiling,  
which was worse than death to me:  
And Cupid was me then beguiling  
of my Life and Liberty.   
 
 

BUt when she see that I absented,  
almost melted into Tears,  
By Love sick case she then lamented,  
and like myself was filled with fears.   

Alas, quoth she, am I so cruel,  
as to let this Lover die?  
Or to his flames to add such fuel,  
as makes his heart to scorch and fry,   

A Balsam than I will provide him,  
shall effect a perfect cure;  
And in my bosom I will hid him,  
he shall not these pains endure.   

My thinks I feel myself relenting,  
and in tears I almost melt:  
Now do I grieve at his tormenting,  
I now feel the pains he felt.   

None can endure this bitter anguish,  
which at this time I do feel:  
For want of him I grieve, I languish,  
none but he my wounds can heal.   

Let not your beauty make you peevish,  
you that nature made so fair:  
For men's as women's eyes are thievish,  
love commands or breeds despair.   

At first too strangely I did slight him,  
whom I now so much adore:  
He is the Man I do delight in,  
and now will do for evermore.   

His sighs and groans shall be requited,  
with a shower of brackish tears:  
And my senses are benighted,  
filled with storms of dreads and fears.   

Oh come again before my soreow  
brings me to the brink of Death,  
I cannot hope to see to morrow,  
except you come to save my breath.   

Then come & take thy conquest quickly  
I am ready to departed:  
Just at this moment I am sickly,  
thou hast won my tender heart.   
FINIS.   

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-ball, near the Hospital-Gate, in West-smith-field.