THE Complete Courtier: OR, CVPID's Academy.  
Containing An Exact and excellent Collection of all the newest and choicest Songs, Poems, Epigrams, Satyrs, Elegant Epistles, Ingenious Dialogues, Acquaint Expressions, Complimental Ceremonies, Amorous Addresses and Answers, in a most pleasant and pathetic strain, fitted and prepared for all capacities. And humbly recommended to the perusal of all young Gentlemen, Ladies, and others, who are inclinable to recreate themselves with harmless mirth.  
By J. SHURLY  
LONDON, Printed for W. T. and are to be sold by Joshua Conyers, at the Black Raven in Duck lane. 1683.   

TO THE READER.  
GEntlemen and Ladies, of what Quality, Sex, or Condition soever, I have not thought it amiss to spend some hours in composing and collecting such choice Rarities, as, I hope, will serve for the first course in the Banquet of Delight, nor can it be amiss to usher in better Recreation; nay, may serve for an Antipendium to Love: for certainly when it was written, Cupid himself so well approved it, that not a Winter storm was seen upon his brow, but all was calm and serene as Summer noon-tide Air: Beauty herself sat smiling 'twixt his Silver Wings, with fresh blooming Roses in her Cheeks, and often cast an amorous look ascance, rejoicing to behold herself portrayed so near unto the life, whilst Venus whispered from her Myrtle Bower, where naked she lay expanded on a Bed of Violets, and bid the proceed to raise a Colossus that might Grace her Empire, if ever I hoped to be successful in Loves blest Elysium. These, and some motives induced me to rifle all the Gardens in Love's Paradise of the choicest Flowers, to adorn with Garlands of Pleasure and Delight, the goodly Effigies; nay, all the Muses, who warble forth soft lays, and charm with tuneful numbers, lent their helping hands. Death and Despair were banished, and nothing but their names used now and then, to fathom the depth of deep dissimulation, or scare parlying Beauties into a compliance. In fine, Ladies, for your sakes, more than for any other motive, this Cabinet was unlocked, and I hope is capable of entertaining you in all seasons with such varieties as you best can relish. Therefore under your protection I leave it, and remain,  
Ladies, The Admirer of your Sex's Virtues, J. SHURLY.   

THE PROLOGUE Spoken by CUPID.  
Roused by a gale of sighs from Cyprus fair,  
Upon expanded Wings through gentle air,  
Ladies I'm come to thaw your frozen Hearts,  
And to revenge the long-unpitied smarts  
Of sighing Lovers, whom your Eyes distress,  
Yet when they sue, find you quite pitiless.  
How comes it that this Cruelty I find  
In Britain's Isle, where all's by nature kind?  
Can it be ravished from my Empire now?  
No, by fair Venus' Starlike Eyes I vow.  
I'll spend ten thousand shafts, nay, all my store,  
But I'll bear rule as strongly as before:  
Make coldness, coyness, and disdain submit,  
And give Love scope, as I myself think fit.  
I'll Tyrannize no more, unless it be  
To punish those that boast of Cruelty.  
My Sea-born Mother thinks it is but just  
To punish them that mis-employ their trust.  
Under Love's Torrid Zone I'll make them fry,  
That Cy●ick-like my great commands deny.  
Then Ladies look you to't, for I am stored  
With Fire-tipped shafts, such as no rest afford:  
If once they wound the Rebels to my Laws,  
Then be you kind, and stay my anger's cause.  
When Lovers sigh, and swear their flame is true:  
Kneel, kiss your hands, and all Love's symptoms show.  
Then though your Beauties, like the Rosy Morn,  
The wondering World with cheering Rays adorn;  
Though your transparent Eyes dart-beams of Light,  
That can the sable Goddess put to flight:  
Yet be you kind, or Beauty soon will fade,  
All Womankind at first for Love were made:  
And when they Love, decline no more they're fair  
But prove misguiding Lights men's thoughts to snare:  
In Myrtle Groves to spend the harmless day,  
And Turtle-like, soft murmurs to convey  
Into each others Souls, tell tales of Love,  
With languid looks, with equal transports move;  
Whilst the winged Choristers fly round about,  
And in harmonious notes still warble out  
The happy Union of kind Lovers blest  
With Inward Joys, that cannot be expressed.  
This is a Paradise, this, this must be  
The only consort that can sort with me.  
Those that so act shall in my Palace dwell,  
And like the Sun, heavens numerous fires excel.  
When without Love, all in Creation's Hell.  
But hark, my Mother calls, I must away,  
What I have said, remember, and obey,  
Love's business will admit of no delay.   

The Lovesick Shepherdess: A New Song.  

1.  
AH, what can mean that eager joy  
Transports my soul, when you appear!  
Ah Strephon, you my thoughts employ  
With all that's charming, all that's dear:  
When you your pleasing story tell,  
A tenderness invades each part,  
And I with blushes, own I feel  
Something too melting at my heart.   

2.  
Each sigh my Reason does surprise,  
And I at once both wish and fear,  
My wounded Soul mounts to my Eyes,  
As if 'twould prattle stories there.  
Take, take that Heart, that needs will go,  
But Shepherd see it kindly used:  
For who such presents would bestow,  
If this, alas, should be abused?   

3.  
I feel the powerful God of Love  
Already Conqueror in my breast;  
Ah me, his flames too fierce they prove,  
And bid me yield, or ne'er have rest.  
Then Strephon take your conquered prize,  
Delia resigns herself to you:  
You, you have charmed those kill Eyes,  
Which none before could e'er subdue.    

A young Gentleman to his Mistress, who is kept under strict restraint by her Parents, to prevent the Marriage, finding a private way to convey his Letters to her hands, may thus write.  

Divine Lady,  
Nature's Masterpiece, and the wonder of your Sex; from whom to my unspeakable grief, the cruel Destinies, or the lowering influence of my inauspicious Stars, have so long detained me, but yet am I not absent, by reason my better part is always attending on you: my ever chaste and constant thoughts are all employed to serve you. No Walls of Stone nor Brass-ribbed Gates can exclude nor impai● the eternal motions of the Mind; not Continents nor Worlds, where Love by his uncontrollable Laws, links Hearts, can keep them asunder. Nothing in me has been wanting to mollify the obdurateness of your cruel Father, who cold to Love, as December frost● feels not the flames that without intermission, fee● upon our Breasts, and make our eager Souls their fuel. Nothing, Divinest Creature, but an escape can perfect our happiness, and render us a full fruition of our mutual Loves; to effect which I have imitated Jove, who in a Golden shower wrapped the Beauteous Danae from Argos Brazen Hold, in which the jealous King, her cruel Father, like yours, had confined her. Your chief Guardians are already bribed and nought but your consent is wanting; perhaps you will object, you own obedience to your Parents▪ I grant you do; but Almighty Love, that all-commanding Monarch, dispenses with the tye of Nature; better so small a crime (which penitential tears can wash away) were perpetrated, than both to languish under the Torrid Zone of fierce desire, with our a prospect of being fanned by cooler gales. Having said thus much, hoping you will consent, I shall leave the management of the business to M. L. your Gentlewoman, whom I have firmly engaged to our Interest; and wait for the success, on which depends my utmost happiness on this side Heaven.  
Your Virtue's Admirer, and constant Slave, J. S.   

The Letter having been with much difficulty delivered to the Lady, she resolves upon an Escape, and returns this Answer.  
Sir,  
THink not but I am as impatient of my confinement, as you are of being restrained from visiting me; and have long since contrived all means not prejudicial to my Honour, whereby I might be freed from it; but such is the harsh nature of my Father, that he always has a watchful Eye over ●●e; nor is my Mother less against my matching with you, both being the rather desirous that I should ●oyn in Wedlock with old age and infirmity, to be Joyntured in a great Estate, than any ways to procure my content; but my Vows to you are past, and shall never be recalled: All the tormenting Racks, scourging Whips or Circling Flames, should they meet to make one torment complete, should never force me to a recantation; and it were a sin to doubt you less constant; therefore I resolve to put your counsel in practice, though I were sure it would prove fatal to us both. About ten in the evening I shall expect you provided with Horses under the Great Oak: Fail not as you tender my Love and Honour. Pardon my abrupt breaking off; what more is requisite I hope to tell you by word of mouth,  Phoebus with his morning rays, from the portals of the Eastern Skies, gilds the flowery Plains: Till when, not doubting your constancy, I remain  
Yours by Vows in the sight of Heaven, M. G.    

A Letter sent to his Mistress, with a pair of Gloves for ● Token, on which commenting, he expresses his Amours.  
HOw happy are these skins that licence have  
To kiss those hands, and fold those fingers brave  
Which to salute even Jove himself desires,  
Longing with such warm snow to cool his fires.  
These are too trivial Ornaments to shroud  
Those hands, o'er which a bright refulgent cloud  
Thrown from the clear reflection of your Eyes,  
The which the Sun and moon do equalise.  
Ever adorns, and obvious to the view,  
Proves Juno's anger, and Minerva's too.  
Vouchsafe (dear Saint) what time you draw on these.  
To think upon the dire perplexities  
Your Votary endures, and now at last,  
As those do clip your hands, let him your waste.   

An Epigram on an old Woman, desirous of a young Husband.  
HOw fain thou beautiful wouldst seem to be,  
How dost thou Drink and Dance audaciously:  
How unto wanton Cupid dost thou seek  
With Palsy note. He in the beauteous cheek  
Of the now freshly-coloured Northern wench,  
That well is skilled in Pricksong does entrench.  
For hasty he over the dry Oaks fleeth,  
And runs from thee, because thou'st rotten Teeth:  
Because that those thy wrinkles, and the Snow  
Upon thy head do antiquate thee so  
That Tyrian Pearl, no nor Precious Stones,  
Can fetch again those times to thee which once.  
The winged day hath very firmly closed,  
In memorable Register deposed.  
Now lusty youths behold with mirth enough,  
Thy long Light Taper wasted to a snuff.  
Think on thy Grave, in which one foot does tread,  
And dream not Wanton of a Bridal bed.   

Love's Conquest. A New Song.  
SEe what a Conquest Love has made  
Beneath the Myrtle Amorous shade,  
The charming fair Corina lies  
All melting in desire,  
Quenching in tears the flaming Eyes  
That set the World on fire.   

The Politic Lady to her Gallant, upon her Husband's suspicion of too much familiarity.  

Dear Love,  
NOtwithstanding the prying Eyes of a Jealous Husband have in some Nature discovered our Amorous Intrigues, yet such is my affection to you, though with the preservation of my Honour, that nothing shall totally divide us, or hinder the mutual Joys which have been conceived since our hearts were linked in the eternal bonds of Love: But the better to colour the business, whilst the storms of Anger and Jealousy are blown over, as you render my Honour, let me conjure your absence, lest the coals that are now scarcely kindled, be blown into such a flame, as will be exceeding difficult, if not altogether impossible to extinguish; but in the mean while be constant and assured of my love, for though my body may be exposed to my Husband's use, yet you shall ever be sole proprietor of my affections. Even i● the midst of caresses and embraces my heart shall b● with you. Therefore, Sir, as you tender my love and reputation, be constant till time will admit of 〈◊〉 further happiness, which I doubt not in a short time to bring about; till when, Sir, I remain  
The better part yours, E. I.   

His Answer.  
Divinest Mistress,  
ON whom all my thoughts have been employed how shall I in Gratitude express so many thanks, and shower so many blessings on you as your care and love deserves: Know, thou beauteous treasure of my Soul, on whose perfections I am still intent, that I'll rather make my bed on the cold Alps, leap into fiery Aetna's Thunder-belching Jaws, or be hurried roun● the Ocean in the belly of some monstrous Whale, that do aught that may procure you a moment's disquiet, your commands my Good Angel, shall be obeyed, though like the Widow Turtle, I'll your absence mourn, and fill the World with gales of sighs, to cool the flames that scorch despairing Lovers. As soon will I doubt the Creation of the Universe out of rude and undigested Chaos, as your Constancy: for 'tis most certain Love has moulded both our Hearts in one, our hearts are inseparably linked, never to be divided but by death, nor then, for our concordant Souls freed from their clayey mansions, by attractive Fire, like Quicksilver put asunder, will prove restless till they meet. Therefore, thou Centre of my Happiness farewell, be swift in what you undertake, for being thus divided by accursed Jealousy, each moment will prove a day till we meet in loves happy Elysium, but till then, like labouring Mariners, I'll contend with all the Storms, roar they ne'er so loud, ●eing the happy Haven stands in view, and will be ●oon recovered.  
Madam, eternally yours, G. B.    

Love cured by disdain, or the Scorner scorned.  
PRoud Woman know that I am now above  
As much thy sordid anger, as thy love:  
I once did madly think thou hadst a face;  
But when thou next shalt take thy Looking-glass,  
If thou canst see at least through so much Paint,  
Thou'lt plainly see thou art no more my Saint.  
Thy Eyes, those glowring unmatched Twins shall be  
No more the false mis-leading fires to me.  
Hope not you longer shall continue bright,  
For with sharp Satyrs I'll eclipse your light.  
But this perhaps would signify me vexed,  
And so perchance thy triumph might be next;  
And thou rejoice to think how I do rage,  
Know worthless thing, I'll laugh thee into Age:  
Strike wrinkles on thy scornful brow, and not  
Within myself discard one pleasant thought.  
Thus wretched, thou in vain shalt wish to die,  
But long e'er thou attain it: then will I  
Sport on thy Tomb, with Pasquil's blast thy name,  
As never worthy to be breathed by Fame.   

A Dialogue between two Country Lovers, viz. Ralph and Margery.  Ralph. 
MArgery, Vaith well met, Ise was ganging to your Vathers house, Ise had a plaguy mind to buss thee ever since last night Ise see thee zitting in Gammer Grumble's Chimly-corner, Ise vaith Ice had, but Ise am such a plaguy zhame-faced Dog, if Ice should ha' been hanged, Ice could not find in my heart before vock: But now Ise ha' met thee all alone, Ise ●ol buss thee and tell thee Ise love, nay, by my father's ●outed shoes, Ise swear Ise will, nay, thou zalt be my wife too, if thou wilt.  Margery. 
Alas Ralph, what can this tend to, it cannot be that you should throw your fection on me, who am of such mean birth and fortune; should your father but once imagine it, he would certainly bestow when he die● all the Cows, Sheep, Hogs, Geese, Ducks, Hens, and other householdstuff on your Brother Hodge, and leave you as poor as myself, and then many a long Winter's night would you spend in cursing me, as the cause of your poverty and contempt.  Ralph. 
Zouze and foot, if my Father give all away Ise care not this black-berry, vor Ise ha' got enough of my ow● to maintain thee like any Lady: Ise ha' forty good Sheep my Uncle left me, besides two Cows and a Horse; and if the worst come to the worst, Ise work for ten-pences a day. Yes, my Father would ha' me gang and smuggle Joan Crople, but Ice swore she's such a nasty Clownish Jade that Ice am ready to zpue when Ise think on her, nay Ice would not buss her for forty good zillings, no fac Ice wooed not.  Margery. 
Alas Ralph, her mother can give her a good portion, and money you know is in this age superior to beauty; for an old Widow of fourscore, that has had five Husbands, if she be but rich, shall have twenty Sweethearts, when many a plump Lass in the Summer season of her youth and beauty is fain to lie by, no body so much as ask what shall be done with her.  Ralph. 
Zouze Margery, if thou wilt believe me, I am of another mind, for by the Coulter of my Father's Plough, Ise swear Ise have a plump bit of flesh if Ise have any, and if thou'lt have me, say so. In good fac●we's gang to morrow to the Parson, and he's buckle us, and then a fig for my old father, let him gnaw the thong in sunder if he can.  Margery. 
Nay, but prithee Ralph let me advise you, be not so hasty, but if you love me as you say you do, first ask your Father's consent, perhaps you may take him in the humour; and than if you will swear you will love me as dear as your own Eyes, I shall be at your command.  Ralph. 
Well, let me buss thee— so. Ise meet thee here again to morrow, and in the mean while my dad shall be quainted with the business, till when, dear Margery farewel. But stay let me buss thee again, or thou wilt say I'm a mere Clown— so now far thee well.  Margery. 
Farewell dear Ralph, I shall think it long till I see you again, I find a yielding in my Breast, your pretty discourse has o'ercome me.  Ralph. 
Vaith Ise glad on't; but to morrow, to morrow, remember to morrow my pretty Pigsties: And till then Adieu, adieu.  Margery. 
Your servant, Sir.   

The Rhapsody.  
WHat have I lost my sense, that I should love  
Frail mortal things, neglecting those above?  
Can man whose nobler Soul ascends on high,  
To pierce the Arches of the starry Sky;  
And view the sacred mansions of the blessed,  
Where all is Joy, Peace and Eternal rest,  
Look down on Womankind, who first betrayed  
The World's great Lord, and him a Subject made  
To Sin and Death, who ever tyrannize  
On the destructive beams of Female Eyes?   

Song.  
AS I late was sitting  
Beneath a Myrtle shade,  
Good Cupid with his Silver Wings  
Did hover round my Head:  
And whilst I gazed upon his Plumes  
A Shaft he did let fly,  
Which like Lightning pierced my Heart:  
And I that did defy  
Him and his conquering Arrows,  
Full soon was forced to yield;  
And soon became his Captive  
When he had won the Field:  
And now I do in Fever fry  
For him I did disdain,  
Then Venus bring him to my Arms,  
And ease me of this pain.   

A passionate Dialogue between Damon and Phillis.  Damon. 
REproach not those follies in me, Lady, which you yourself cause me to commit, I am reduced to such extremity, that Cupid himself (stern Tyrant as he is) could he but see, would Pity me.  Phillis. 
Sir, I understand not what you mean by what you express.  Damon. 
Would Heaven you did, oh that the immortal powers would vouchsafe to engrave it on your Heart, it would save me many a tear, and keep in those gales of sighs that must attend my utterance, in the relation of what is now swelled big as a Tempest in the deep Caverns of my Soul, struggling to free itself, then know divinest Lady, I come to accuse you of Injustice, you first begot my passion, and were content (at least you seemed so) that it should live, yet since would not deign to nourish it with one mild and gentle smile, but let it languish almost to despair; quickly you lifted me above the Sun, but when I supposed myself to be nearest the Heaven of Happiness, you threw me down again to Earth's deep Centre.  Phillis. 
Alas Sir, why labour you thus to make me guilty of an injury to you, which if it be one, all mankind may be alike engaged, and by the ways you now do seek redress.  Damon. 
Madam your reproof is just and seasonable, upon my wretched self the fault shall ever lie: O that I had been blind  I had gazed upon such perfection, e'er through those Optics such rays of Beauty shot into my Soul, but yet let me hope to live on Chameleons food, for Heavenly Bodies of themselves have no malicious influence, but by the disposition of the subject on which they operate: Then tell me, thou brightest of the Creation, thou that art Kindred-mould to Heaven, speak, nay whisper it, if you answer in the affirmative, lest the dismal sound leave me ruined like some shivered Oak, whose sturdy Trunk opposed the force of Heaven's glancing fire: Do you, I say, design to marry my Rival, must he enjoy the blessing I so long have sought in vain?  Phillis. 
Pardon me Sir, I see my presence disturbs you, I must be gone, my Parents expect me, and my obedience hastens me hence.  Damon. 
Stay my brightest Sun, obscure not thy lustre till I'm past this Maze, this endless Labyrinth of confused thought. Oh I read it in thy Eyes, those two bright wandering fires, that lead me into Love's wide Wilderness, where Hermit-like, I must spend the remainder of my days. O that such Beauty should be made a sacrifice to Parent's wills.  Phillis. 
No more Sir, I must be gone, and to put you out of doubt, he that you term your Rival, is the man who must and shall enjoy me; therefore henceforth cease your fruitless addresses.  Damon. 
And is it so? farewell for ever, then farewell; yet I must wear thy Chains: Nor by having such a treasure is his life free from danger; by all the Gods, he that has traduced me in my Love shall fall a Sacrifice to my Revenge, and next I'll die myself; yet for thy sake me thinks I could put up a thousand wrongs, therefore I must not stay le●t I relent.  Phillis. 
Farewell angry Sir, go spend your rage elsewhere, your Rival dreads you not, your feeble power is ill wedded to your will, and know for this, henceforth you never shall behold my face unless transient.   

A doubtful discovery of passionate Love.  

Lady,  
I Doubt not but that you have discerned some alterations in me, and that the goodness of your disposition has made you partaker of my sufferings, but the way to relieve (I fear) is otherwise than you imagine, and if I fail now of your assistance, there is no hope of remedy for me but in death. I assure myself you cannot but wonder at this language, and that 'tis not to be questioned but you will demand an explication; but if you had never known what it is to be in love, you may well think I would never have acquainted you with my passion, lest it should have moved you to laughter: But well knowing you are not ignorant of their sufferings who languish under the Torrid Zone of Cupid's Indignation, I shall not spare to tell you I love you, and will expect from your fair lips the Sentence of Life and Death. In expectation of which I remain between Hope and Despair,  
Divine Lady, your ever Adorer, J. L.   

Her Reply.  
Sir,  
I Received your Letter, and for some time considered the contents; and indeed, as you intimate, I could not but wonder that you, being altogether a stranger to me, should make your first address by way of Letter, and that you should be in love with one with whom you never had the least converse; yet if your intent be virtuous, I would not have you altogether despair, for my doors are never shut against such whose pretensions are founded on Virtue.  
So I remain Virtues admirer, E. G.    

The Invocation.  
A Rise my Cloris from thy shady bower,  
The rosy Morning purples o'er the World,  
And Flora raises every drooping flower,  
That sable night on the Earth's bosom hurled,  
The Birds in Amorous Descant through each Grove  
In sweetest notes thy praises warble forth,  
And do incite thee to be kind and love,  
Whilst I extol thee for thy wondrous worth.   

Song.  

CAlm was the Evening, and clear was the Sky,  
And new budding flowers did spring,  
When all alone went Amyntas and I  
To hear the sweet Nightingale sing;  
I sat and he laid him down by me,  
And scarcely his breath he could draw,  
But when with a fear  
He began to draw near,  
He was dashed with a ha' ha' ha'.   

2.  
He blushed to himself and lay still for a while,  
For his Modesty curbed his desire,  
But straight I convinced all his fears with a smile,  
And added new flames to his fire.  
Ah Sylvia, said he, you are cruel,  
To keep a poor Lover in awe:  
Then once more he pressed  
With his hand on my Breast,  
But was dashed with a ha' ha' ha'.   

3.  
I knew 'twas his passion that caused all his fear,  
And therefore I pitied his case,  
I whispered softly there's no body near,  
And I laid my cheek close to his face,  
But as he grew bolder and bolder,  
A Shepherd came by us and saw,  
And just as our bliss  
Began with a kiss,  
He burst out with a ha' ha' ha'.    

A short Letter in verse.  
Divinest Mistress,  
WHom the powers above  
Have made and fashioned only fit for love,  
Pity the man, who wounded by your Eyes,  
Does languish, and without relief soon dies.  
No power can save, if you with frowns will kill,  
For Life and Death depend upon you still.  
Yours till Death, E. G.   

Madam,  
LOng have I courted you, but I fear in vain, for my Love has been still returned with scorn, which makes me with reason suspect that my happy Rival enjoys the blessing which I so long have humbly requested, though without the recompense of one smile: If it be so, Lady, keep me not in pain, but let me know my doom, pronounce the fatal word, that like a Thunderbolt, can crush me into Atoms; for by the hope of your favour alone I live, and in the very moment am ascertained to lose it for ever, I shall be no more desirous of Life, but willingly acquiesce to slumber in the Grave. In expectation of your Answer, Divinest of the Creation, I remain  
Yours to command, J. S.   

Song in two parts, between Damon and Daphne.  Damon. 
COme my Daphne come away,  
We do waste the Glorious day:  
'Tis Damon calls. Daphne. What says my Love.  Damon. 
Come follow to the Myrtle Grove,  
Where Venus shall prepare  
New Chaplets to adorn thy hair.  Daphne. 
Damon were I shut in a Tree,  
I'd break the bark to follow thee.  Damon. 
My Shepherdess make haste,  
The Minutes fly too fast;  
Let's to those cooler shades where I,  
Blind as Cupid, in thine eye,  
Betwixt thy Breasts will ever stray.  Daphne. 
In such warm Snow,  
Who would not lose their way?   

A Health to Bacchus.  

1.  
THis Bumper to Bacchus, we'll drink it all round,  
Whilst our cares in the streams of our pleasures are drowned,  
And our heads like the Glasses turn equally round.  
Damn your Ale and Tobaco, 'tis nothing but Wine  
Inspires a man's Soul, and makes it Divine,  
It will sacrifice us at fair Venus' shrine.   

2.  
Let the Porters carouse in black Pisspots whilst we  
Drink nought but the juice of the sacred Tree;  
To Bacchus and Venus we'll votaries be.  
Let ev'ry man stand with his Bottle and suck,  
Hang the man that does sip, let him drink like a Duck,  
And when we're all Drunk we will range like a Buck.    

A Dialogue between Thasminus and Corina.  Thasminus. 
THink you my dearest it is those little jealousies and fears, joy mixed with doubt, and doubt revived with hope that crown love with pleasure? no, these are but like waking in the morning and find our expectations frustrate, when all night our fancy has with various prospects of Happiness, pleasing Ideas.  Corina. 
No, though those make love the more delightful, for curious pictures at a distance resemble the living party whom they represent more exactly than when we take a nearer view, for love once kindled, without restraint, wastes so lavishly, that its Taper soon expires.  Thasminus. 
Alas, than you would have Love seed like Chameleons, only live by Air, can you imagine so great a Prince can be contented with such slender diet?  Corina. 
No there is not a greater Epicure on Earth, Sir I have been conversant with his Steward, and have seen his Bills of Fare, such costly ones as made me wonder at his greatness.  Thasminus. 
As how, sweet Corina?  Corina. 
Why at his Table Hearts new slain, fresh bleeding from the wounds the shafts late gave, are served up whole at his Table: Roses and Lilies strew his way, each striving to outvie each other; and all his Parlours are enclosed with Eyes, that like another firmament, give light to those he entertains; his last course is Mamalade of Lips, perfumed with breath sweeter than Arabian Spices in their bloom, whose odours born by the gentle wind, cheer many a league at Sea the labouring Mariners.  Thasminus. 
Rare, and what drink to all this meat, Lady?  Corina. 
Nothing but Pearl dissolved Tears flowing from Lovers Eyes, and cooled with gales of sighs, arising from the whirlwinds of Inquietude and anxious thoughts.  Thasminus. 
A rich proportion, but I believe Lady, this is but his common fare, when his Cook's Liking and Opportunity are absent, for when he feasts to the purpose, 'tis where the wise people of the World did place the Virtues, in the middle, sweet Lady.  Corina. 
Nay Sir, you talk strangely now, I see 'tis time to leave you.  Thasminus. 
Only a jest or so Lady, I hate obscenity as much as any living. Be pleased that I may wait upon you to your Chamber.  Corina. 
As you please Sir.  Thasminus. 
You oblige me, sweet Lady.   

A Letter from a Gentleman beyond the Seas, to his Mistress.  
Sweet Lady,  
THough the envious waves divide our Bodies, yet though Seas, guarded Seas, nay, Continents or Worlds should they interpose, cannot divide our Souls, for mine is ever waiting on you, as well when gentle slumbers close my Eyelids, as when waking Virtue is prompting me more deeply to engrave (if possible) your dear remembrance on my Heart. Therefore, thou only centre of my happiness, be not dejected at my tedious absence) which (to my grief) the Tyrant Business has occasioned, for e'er the Moon has twice more waned her Silver Orb, I doubt not but to be present with you in person as now in thought I am. Till which happy time I remain  
Your constant admirer, and faithful Lover, G. L.   

KNow, cruel Woman, murderess of mankind,  
That in your shackles I'm no more confined:  
My tortures have been too too much to bear,  
Yet in the midst of pangs I've broke the snare.  
No, thou death dealer, cruelest of thy Sex,  
Thy smiles nor frowns shall neither please nor vex.  
The man whose Eagle flight can soar above  
Thy dull disdain, and scorn thy foolish love.  
Lay baits for such (if you must cruel be)  
Whose Souls are lulled by fatal flattery,  
To lodge upon a Towering Precipice,  
When every puff can hurl them down from bliss.   

One who has been ungratefully dealt with by a proud and scornful Mistress, may thus revenge himself.  
Proud Disdainer,  
THough I have been for a long while so unfortunate to dote upon a painted Puppet, and with such eagerness to gaze upon the Devil, enshrined in Crystal, yet at last I have found my Error, and enjoined myself a strict penance in expiation of my former folly, and thank my better Stars that I had not the opportunity of enjoying my foolish desires, which if through inadvertency had so fallen out, I had by this time been of all mankind the most deplorable. And therefore am bound to render diurnal thanks to Heaven for such an extraordinary deliverance, when as my rashness had driven me to the brink of ruin, where I wanted but another push to have plunged me into an Ocean of misery; but now my Eyes are open, like a night-belated Traveller, look back with fear and admiration on the dangerous wild's through which I've passed secure from harm, when as a thousand lay in ambush to entrap me. So I remain,  
No longer yours, but my own, R. W.   

The Melancholy Lover's Complaint.  
HEnce loathed Melancholy,  
Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born,  
'Mongst horrid shapes and shrieks and sights unholy,  
In Stygian Caves forlorn,  
Find out some dismal Cell  
Where the Night-Raven sings,  
And brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings:  
There (ragged as thy Locks)  
Under those gloomy shades, and low-browed Rocks,  
In sad Cimmerian darkness ever dwell.   

A Catch.  
COme boys Drink away, merry set it round,  
It is a wet and rainy day, then let our Cups abound.  
Let each man charge his Glass, to Tom let it pass,  
And next unto Will a lusty brimmer fill,  
Let each man take his Cup, and turn it all up,  
And he shall pay for all, that presumes for to spill.   

Repentance too late, or the Lady's laments for her Lover, killed by her Disdain.  
TEars I do shed, yet are they shed in vain,  
Nor can they call him back to life again:  
Yet sigh I will to wake him from his sleep,  
Thus whilst he sleeps in Earth, on Earth I'll weep:  
And since the World will not by fire be gone,  
I'll drown it in a fearful Inundation:  
Or since he perished by my Cruelty,  
I here will turn a weeping Niobe.   

The Countrey-mans Letter to his Sweetheart.  
IN good Vaith Joan, after my Hearty Commendations, my service remembered unto thee, my Love I should a ●aid, but 'tis no matter for Compliments, thou knowest my mind: In good vaith Ice had a woundy mind to woo thee any time this fortnight, but Ice could never come to speak with thee thou art so plaguy shy, but zince I ha' written to thee, Ise hope all will be well again, for Ise intent in very short time to send thee a pair of Gloves, if it cost me two Groats. This being all Joan, till I send you more, I shall content myself to be  
Your own Sweetheart, Hodge the Ploughman.   

A Dialogue between Jenny the Chambermaid, and Betty the Cookmaid.  Betty. 
WEll Jenny what thinkest thou of Ralph the Gardener, can you fancy him? methinks he is a dapper fellow.  Jenny. 
Truly Betty, I know not well what to think on him, yet he presses me hard to marry him.  Betty. 
And will you not consent to it?  Jenny. 
Faith I know not what is best to be done in that case, I am e'en between Hawk and Buzzard, as the old saying is.  Betty. 
Why let me tell ye, you are growing into years, and a stolen Maid is fit for nothing but to make sport for Footboys, therefore if you'd be ruled by me, I would not have you cast him off.  Jenny. 
Indeed to tell you the truth on't between ourselves, I have had a great mind to have been married any time this seven years: Lord, when our Pegg was married to Will, you cannot, imagine now I tumbled and tossed that night, nay, I bitten the corners of the Pillow, and tore the Sheets for madness.  Betty. 
Nay, I myself was troubled with no small itching that bout, for how could it choose but vex any Maid alive, to see such a dirty drab get so pretty a fellow, whilst another ten times her betters would have been glad of a worse?  Jenny. 
And then to see how proudly she jetted it, as if, as the old saying is, her Arse had ground Ginger.  Betty. 
Well, but this is nothing to the business in hand, Ralph has entrusted me to bring him answer whether you will have him or not.  Jenny. 
Why is he so hasty then? it cannot be.  Betty. 
Yes truly I believe if you give him a denial, he'll have Moll Jenkins, for I'll promise you I see him kiss her, and give her Apricocks t'other day.  Jenny. 
Ha', nay rather than he shall have that Draggle-tail, go and tell him I am contented to be his Wife, and that on Sunday next we'll go to Pancridge, and there be married. Ha', be married, for my beauty gins to decay.  Betty. 
Well, I shall obey, and hope you will be as solicitous to Hodge on my behalf, for I have a tickling mind to be married too.  Jenny. 
What I can do, you shall command.   

Song.  

A Stella bright, I saw her sit  
By a smooth River side,  
Her Beauty's light adorning it,  
Whilst on the soft waves glide:  
She sighed and cried, make haste away,  
(Than morning blushes rose,)  
I'd sooner tried if known the boy,  
And then a smile did close.   

A Shepherd heard, his crook laid by,  
And to her did resort,  
No long debate he need to try,  
They soon began the sport.  
Till tired with bliss they gave it over,  
And then to kissing fall,  
She sighed at this, craved for,  
Still still for more did call.   

Not satisfied till Love's free stream  
Was quite exhausted, then  
Forced to part with Love's stem,  
But rallied soon again,  
And with fresh joys renewed the bliss,  
Whilst o'er them shades were spread:  
So love decoyed with Happiness,  
To win a Maidenhead.    

A Dialogue between Coridon and Sylvia.  Coridon. 
FAith Sylvia you're unkind, of late hardhearted grown  
And with your frowns you all my blooming joys dethrone.  Sylvia. 
Sir, I have often told you that I cannot love,  
And yet in spite of all, you troublesome will prove.  Coridon. 
If that you cannot love, why carry you those Eyes  
Whose pointed rays of course poor Lovers hearts surprise.  Sylvia. 
Is that my crime? the fault does on yourselves depend  
Must I be blinded then, because my Eyes offend?  Coridon. 
No, no, you brightest Star of the whole Creation,  
Those Stars eclipsed, Loves Empire would be out of fashion  Sylvia. 
Why do you tempt me then, seeing I cannot yield,  
Since I by struggling long from Love have gained t●● Fields  Coridon. 
If you have won the Field, yet let poor Lovers try  
Their yet inglorious fates, to gain the Victory.  Sylvia. 
You may, but never must expect to win the price.  Coridon. 
Well if I miss, bright Star, I'll fall thy Sacrifice.   

Song.  
ARise my sweet Phillis, and let's to the Grove,  
And there in shades solace, and tell of our love  
There none shall o'erhear us, there envy shan ' come.  
And there for Love's pleasure we shall have large room;  
Whilst over our Heads the kind Myrtle shall spread,  
We'll make the soft Grass, and sweet Violets our bed.  

2.  
The Music of Nightingales there shall us charm,  
Whilst we lie folded soft all arm in arm.  
Arise then, my fairest, and let us away,  
For, Hark the sweet Lark does now summon the day:  
Come, come my best Love, 'tis Philander does call,  
In mighty Love's name that should still command all.    

The Scotch Intrigue. A pleasant Song.  

Jockey and Jenny one evening late  
Ganged to the Pease-mow, and there sat  
Talking of Love, when as Jockey spies  
Something by Moonlight, 'twixt Jenny's Th—  
Alas, dear Jenny, prithee what is this:  
Nothing but what should be, by this kiss.  
'Tis, dear Jockey, a little Fishpond,  
Where you may angle with your muckle wand.   

2.  
With that Jockey laid his Bonnet by,  
And off went's Plad this pastime to try,  
Whilst Jenny kissed him in muckle sort,  
And welcomed her dearest to the sport:  
Who cast in his bait, and it soon took,  
But at th' end on't there was no hook.  
And therefore though he did angle long,  
He could catch no Fish, though they bit ding dung.    

The Jealous Cuckold's Complaint.  
DId I not catch her in the very act? shall I no● believe my Eyes? Curse of Wedlock, what folly possesses mankind, that they cannot live free, but that they must throw away their Liberty to noose themselves with a thing called Woman, and put their Honour in jeopardy every moment to be shipwracked by her levity. O that I had been wiser that I might have foreseen the fatal consequences tha● attend on Matrimony; Horns are entailed to it by an irrevocable destiny; and as for mine they are of such a monstrous size, that the very Boys in the streets point at 'em: The Baggage cannot be conten● to gallant it abroad, but she must bring 'em home with her, and make me pay for Coach hire: O it sufferable! Judge, judge I say, my Brethren and fellow Citizens, whether this is to be born. No, had I the patience of Job, such scurvy tricks would wear it ●l out. Nay, in good faith I'll e'en carry her hom● again tother bout to her Father and Mother, no● will I take her again for a hundred pounds, as I di● last time; no, in faith, if I must wear Horns, I'll hav● 'em tipped with Gold, I'll warrant you 200 l. shall be the least this bout, fac I will.   

Of Virtue and Vice in Women.  
A Virtuous Woman is an Angel bright,  
A Vicious Woman black as gloomy night.  
A Virtuous Woman is her Husband's joy,  
A Vicious Woman does his Peace destroy.  
A Virtuous Woman is a Pearl of price,  
A Vicious Woman Pluto's Merchandise.  
In Virtuous Women every thing excels,  
In Vicious Women all that's evil dwells.   

An Old Country Farmer's Reception upon his address to a young Gentlewoman.  Mistress. 
BLess me, Heaven! what a mad medley of Creation's this, this cannot surely be the man my father told me was to come this morning to pay a visit; pray Jane, go and ask him his business.  Maid. 
Truly Madam, I believe this is he that is to court you, for by the description I have had of him, it can be no other; yet 'tis good to know: pray friend, who would you speak withal.  Countryman. 
With Mrs. Mary, sweetheart, the Gentleman's Daughter of the house, here are Letters Credentials from her Father, for admitting me to speak with her.  Maid. 
If you must speak with her, that's the Lady.  Countryman. 
Oh my little Pigs●yes, how blessed am I to see thee; nay, there's no more to be said, I'll have thee my Girl, for I like thee at the first blush.  Maid. 
Ha' ha' ha', Sir, the Hobnails in your shoes spoil the boards.  Countryman. 
Hold your Tongue you little Baggage, come, there's a Groat for you. Madam, your most humble— nay, why dost turn away?  Mistress. 
What mean you Sir, what's your business with me.  Countryman. 
Cocksbodakins, my business, why don't you know my business? Why to woo ye, I thought your Father had told you my business long since.  Mistress. 
To woo me, I think you said. Pah.  Country man. 
Yes to woo ye, kiss ye, marry ye, lie with ye.  Mistress. 
Heighday, the man's in a fit sure, pray Jane fetch a little cold water.  Maid. 
No Madam, he has only made so much haste that he forgot to serve his Hogs, which makes him press his suit more earnestly, that when he has dispatched this business, he may do the other.  Countryman. 
Ha' baggage, did not I give you a Groat to hold your tongue, and will you still be prating: Mind her not my dear, but come sit down upon my knee, and I'll tell you more of my mind.  Mistress. 
Stand off Sir, I conjure you touch me not, I say, can you be so sottish to think I'll be handled by a Hobgoblin?  Countryman. 
Ha', a Hobgoblin, ha', what can this mean?  Maid. 
Madam, he speaks from behind a board, like a Chimney-sweepers broom. Here take your Groat, 'twill serve to pay your Barber.  Countryman. 
Say you so Gossip, say you so? Ho Jack, saddle my Horse again: Farewell ye scornful tits, good buy to ye; next time I come here again you shall learn more breeding, you baggages you shall, you shall.  Mistress. 
Farewell old Clod pate.  Maid. 
Good buy old Hobnails, make haste home, there's a Hog i'th' Cupboard, ha' ha' ha' ha'.   

A New Song.  

1.  
HEnce idle fears, let jealousy vanish,  
The trouble of Life we quite will banish.  
Gentle as Infant nature we'll sleep,  
Though we were tossed on the Ocean deep.  
Disquiet hence, and troubles be gone,  
And leave my Love for to rest alone,   

2.  
Until the Sun from the Eastern Skies,  
To gild the Earth, does gloriously rise;  
Then to the Grove we'll straight take our way,  
And see how the pretty Birds do play;  
Then imitate their happy billing,  
In such delights as are past telling.    

Upon the presentation of a Ring.  
LAdy, as endless is my Love as this,  
Still circled round with hopes of happiness:  
The Posie's deep, engraven on my Heart,  
With the sharp point of Cupid's flaming Dart.  
Yet fairer would this Golden Hoop appear,  
If that a Jewel was but glittering there.  
So you in Love's great Sphere would shine most bright,  
If less severe, and proner to delight.   

To his scornful Mistress.  
MAdam, think you for scornful frowns I'll bow?  
No, no, my Vows of Love are cancelled now.  
Disdainful thing, not worth my meanest thought,  
You who so many have to ruin brought:  
Know my just scorn of thee, shall pay thee back  
That foolish pride that late my Soul did wrack.  
With whirlwinds of Despair I now have found  
Armour that's proof, Love has no power to wound  
A Breast so strongly fortified as mine,  
Nor Venus make me offer at her shrine:  
Those foolish fancies that so late possessed  
My daring Soul, and robbed me of my rest,  
Are vanished into Air, quite lost their power,  
And never more from me shall charm an hour.  
Your Beauties are grown dull, no more I'll dote  
On your false Image, 'tis so small of note,  
That still I cast it from me, and despise  
The Picture, in whose like such falsehood lies.   

A Letter from a person whose inequality in years render him obnoxious to the Lady he is in love with.  

Madam,  
IT is true, time has silvered my Locks, and, as you say, rendered me a relict of Antiquity, yet the mind remains unchanged; the eternal faculties of the Soul are still the same, and what I want in Youth you may assure yourself I shall make up in Experience. Gold, that powerful Charmer of Mankind, I have in abundance, fortune hath plentifully opened her hand, and endued me with her lavish store; all than that you can object, is deficiency in performance of conjugal deuce; as for that, if it so be, I am not altogether to be rejected, nor my ability doubted, being in green old age: For Lady, know a man of sixty, not decayed by distempers, is as capable of pleasing a young Lady, as a youth whose virility is wasted by perpetual intemperance. Therefore, young Mistress, in expectation of your better respect to him who is your servant,  
I rest till you take further consideration, E. G.   

Her Answer.  
Sir,  
I Can but wonder that a man in his declining years should be so much overseen as to court a Virgin in the summer season of her Youth and Beauty; as well may July and December admit of a contracted union as we. Can you imagine that I so little regard the sweets of Life, as to pine all my days, whilst other Virgins, perhaps my Inferiors, surfeit on Love's charming repasts. No, I value not your Riches, true content is all my desire, and without that all things are ineffectual: Therefore Sir, I would have you leave off your suit, and ease yourself of those disquiets that are evermore attendant upon courtship, for the sake of your own repose; for certain it is, I will never marry to age, and consequently infirmity, though my friends should importune me never so.  
Your friend if you desist, E. M    

The Lovesick Youth to his Mistress.  
Madam,  
I Love you: oft my Eyes have told,  
The scorching fevers that my heart enfold;  
No powers of Art can cure my great distress,  
All Arts have left me now quite remed'less.  
Like famed Achilles' Spear, 'tis only you  
That gave the Wound, can give the Balsam too.  
Knew you what dreams my nightly slumbers break,  
What direful thoughts my daring Courage shake,  
So easily you'd not resent my pain,  
And let me thus in fruitless Love complain.  
Alas, What have I done, that thus you make  
My torments such as Lovers Tongues can't speak?  
What is my fault, bright Angel, say my crime?  
Have I delayed, or overslipped my time?  
If so, upon the swiftest wings of Fame,  
With hasty flight I will retrieve the same.  
Torment me not not before my guilt be known:  
To me, bright Star, too well your charms are known.  
No more you need to blazonize your power,  
For 'tis but you 'mongst all, that I adore.   

Song.  

1.  
HEnce idle fancies, perplex me no more,  
I've loved now too long, and 'tis time to give o'er.  
Those Joys they are fruitless, and ever deceive,  
Which from the feigned blessings of Love we derive.  
Disdain I've long courted, but will do no more,  
I'm now too well skilled to be gulled as before.   

2.  
All idle fancies are vanished away,  
And I benighted, at last have found day:  
All idle conceits that breed Love are now gone,  
And Wisdom, the Sceptre does sway all alone.  
Nor ever shall folly persuade me to love,  
Unless't be those Joys that are placed above.    

Upon a Letter sealed with a Heart.  
BRight Mistress, when the outside I beheld,  
And saw a Heart, I thought it had been killed:  
But looking further, 'twas not mine I found,  
Because on it there was no mortal wound.  
Mine all bestuck with Darts, I soon had known,  
Cupid has killed it for to feast upon.   

On a Diamond in a Ring.  
LAdy, the World's a Ring, yet that would be  
Without a Gem, of little use to me.  
You are the Diamond, and 'tis for your sake,  
That I so long do of this World partake.  
Were you but gone, I'd scorn the trifling Joys  
With which mankind his serious fancy cloys.  
'Tis you alone that are the Gem below,  
On Earth no Pearl of price besides I'll know.  
All trifling Glory of the World I scorn,  
'Tis you alone the World's great Orb adorn.  
'Tis you make Paradise, 'tis you give rest  
To those that are on Loves wide Seas distressed.  
Then brightest of Creation, yield one smile  
To him who for your sake does daily toil  
In endless thought, and in a maze of care:  
Hoping at last my blessed relenting fair,  
With thee the Joys of boundless love to share.   

An Epigram.  
THough black my Mistress seem unto the eye,  
Yet those who do her constitutions try,  
Say they mistake that think she's kin to night,  
Assuring us that she is all o'er Light.   

The ill Starred Lover's Complaint.  
HEnce idle fancies, wandering shades away,  
You Ghosts and Fairies, whose feigned names affright  
The Traveller, that does by Moonlight stray,  
And makes him fancy every shade a Spirit.  
Go, go I say, you that disturb my rest.  
With black Cimmerian darkness ever dwell,  
That gentle Somnus to the man oppressed,  
May bring soft slumbers from his drowsy Cell,  
 Love distracts me with ten thousand fears  
Of losing her who links me in a Chain;  
Who lets me languish, pities not my tears,  
But takes delight to hear me tell my pain.  
How long, ye Gods, shall I this Tyrant love,  
This beauteous Tyrant who my torment sees,  
Yet nothing can her flinty Nature move  
To pity me, or give my torments ease.  
O Man, my Reason, why should I adore,  
On that my service does (Ingrateful) scorn.  
Muster ye powers of Manhood, tell wherefore  
I being free, her triumphs should adorn.  
No, no, I am not free, 'twas a mistake,  
But like a Lion in the Hunter's toil,  
The more I strive the fatal cords to break,  
The less unable am I to recoil.  
Twixt death and her there is no mean I see,  
Sleep hears not my complaint, my sighs nor cries:  
Then Terrors King haste thou, and set me free,  
And with eternal slumbers seal my Eyes.   

A Wormwood Lecture for Contented Cuckolds, or Billingsgate Rhetoric.  
HA', have I found out your haunts, Sirrah? Was it not sufficient, you Runagate pitiful inconsiderable Rascal, that I took you to be my Husband (such a one as you are) with ne'er a shoe to your foot or a shift to your back, you lousy Rogue; but that now I have put you in a condition to live like a man, you must be gadding abroad, spending what I have carefully taken pains for, on every gill-flurt. Come, come sirrah, I'll make you turn over a new leaf, 'tis a brave World indeed, that you must sit at the Alehouse with a pox to ye▪ and I must lie slaving at home to maintain a fa● Hostess: Get you home, I say, sirrah, and that quickly too, or I'll beat the pot about your ears; nay, I'll make the windows fly with a Devil to 'em, if you don't be jogging: What won't ye stir yet? Get ye home ye dog, or I'll kick you home before me. Faith Women may be made fools on, I see, if they hold their tongues.   

The Shepherd's Invitation.  
COme lovely Nymph, the Winter now is past,  
The bleak East wind, and freezing Northern blast,  
Are close barred in their Caves, and Zeph'rus brings  
The dew, restoring flowers on gentle wings.  
The Sun with Aries rides, and his brightways  
Reflecting on the Golden Fleece displays  
To cheer the World, blithe Nature smiles to see  
Herself from Hiems could embrace set free.  
Each Grove, my fair, invites us forth to view  
How they their late cast Robes with pride renew.  
To hear the winged Choristers repeat  
Their notes harmonious, whilst our flocks do bleat,  
And on the flowery plain the young kids play:  
Come then, my fair one, let us trace the way  
That leads unto delight, in Venus' Grove,  
Crowned all with Myrtle, let's reveal our Love,  
Where Beauty's Queen with young Adonis strove  
There let's in dear embraces panting lie,  
Melting in joys the World did never try.  

The Shepherdesses Reply.  
I Hear thy voice my Strephon, Love commands,  
And I commit myself into thy hands:  
I'll not be coy, but yield you love for love,  
Heaven's Thunders blast those that unconstant prove.    

A Gentleman fearing a competitor in his Mistress' Affections, thus writes to persuade him from any further addresses.  
Sir,  
WEre you but sensible of the sincere Affections that are between the young Lady A. G. and myself, and could but discern the inseparable bands that unite our Souls in Love, you would cease your vain attempting any further addresses; you may perhaps conceit she has some kindness for you, because she permits you access: Know therefore Sir, that such civil favour is upon no other account than your being first introduced by me as a friend; and if you prove yourself otherwise, 'tis in my power to punish your Ingratitude; therefore let me friendly admonish you not to give occasion to break that knot of friendship that has so long continued between us, by your troubling her with any further addresses, for know that by the laws of God, and with the irrevocable consent of her parents, she is and can be only mine. Having thus advised you, I leave the rest to your discretion, and remain  
Your friend as you use me, J. B.   

A Letter to a coy Mistress.  
Divine Mistress,  
SInce 'tis my fate to be thy slave,  
Render such pity as thou'dst crave,  
Were it thy fortune so to be,  
To him that courts his destiny.  
My moans sufficient were to melt  
A flinty Heart, who love ne'er felt:  
Yet all those tears they prove in vain  
To quench Loves scorching Fevers pain.  
'Twas those Magnetic Eyes that drew  
My heart to wander at first view.  
If then to love thou wert the Womb  
That gave it Life, be not the Tomb.  
If thou beest pleased, exile delay,  
Danger attend a tedious way.  
Few are the words that may combine  
Our Hearts, 'tis only say, thou'rt mine.  
But if another have possessed  
Those joys that should have made me blest,  
Be speedy in thy doom, and I.  
By death am freed from misery.  
Your languishing Lover, J. ●.   

A Dialogue between Antonius and Labinus.  Antonius. 
TRuly Sir, I was a fool to imagine that only death kept the doors of ill requited, since I now plainly find that disdain or black Ingratitude can give us a free Passport.  Labinus. 
Right Sir, and were I as you, it should trouble me no more, I'd banish those fancies from my Breast, and be proud I had shaken off my Chains.  Antonius. 
Nay, you go too far, my Chains are not yet sundered; for should I behold her matchless Beauties, I should again relapse. Oh she has all the Virtues of her Sex, Chaste, unsullied, as first opening Lilies, or the untouched Snow.  Labinus. 
Chaste! Why do you honour me because I throw not myself from the top of some airy precipice? It is her ruin to be otherwise, for though we blame those that kill themselves, yet we seldom take so much thought as to praise men for keeping themselves alive.  Antonius. 
Nay, when once she appears, her Virtues are so triumphant, that I imagine I have as many Rivals as beholders.  Labinus. 
All that increases but your pain, jealousy is the very spawn of Hell, cast abroad like a deadly poison to infect the World, and kill man's true felicity. But alas, if it trouble you before you possess the object that causes it, what will you do when you possess the centre of your desire?  Antonius. 
Dull and insipid as thou art, why, then I shall have no more cause to suspect, but will lodge my thoughts securely on her Virtues, not in the least doubting that a disloyal thought can harbour where so much Virtue lies; but now ten thousand fears of Rivalty afflict my restless mind. Sure Sir, crowned Conquerors are but Types of Victorious Lovers, who possess the reality of what others not so blest, enjoy only in a dream; therefore come what will on it, I'll run a dangerous hazard for such a prize.  Labinus. 
As how?  Antonius. 
Why, I'm resolved to send a Challenge to the man I suspect she loves more than me.  Labinus. 
Do and be ridiculous; give her occasion to hate you worse, and your Rival to make sport at your rash Ignorance; for a Lover in favour is like a fortunate Gamester, the more you set him, the more he wins: Nay, 'tis the humour of Women to imagine some hidden Virtue in the man who is envied by his Rival, and it consequently induces them to love him better.  Antonius. 
Death and Ruin, it shall be so, come what will.  Labinus. 
Nay, if you're resolved Sir, take your course.   

A New Song.  

1.  
AS by a River side I passed  
Corina fair was sitting,  
And about her pretty waste  
A Rush Green Girdle sitting.  
Whilst that her naked Breasts lay bare,  
And obvious to each Eye,  
Upon her shoulders flowed her hair  
In ringlets curiously.   

2.  
Which made me to advance with speed,  
And though she did seem coy,  
Yet I to kissing did proceed,  
And calling her my Joy.  
Till melting she fell in my arms,  
She could resist no more,  
So I amidst a thousand charms,  
Rifled her Virgin store.    

The Essay.  
HAil, sacred Sisters, who in Triple Trine  
Sing pleasing numbers, warble Songs Divine  
Who 'twixt Parnassus' double spires do sit,  
And charm the World with wondrous themes of Wit:  
● you invoke to aid me in my flight,  
That I may soar, and reach the Towering height  
Of my Ambition, sing the worthy praise  
Of my bright Angel, which no Pastoral lays  
Can ever reach: No lofty Cleo, thou  
Must be my Patroness, and here I vow,  
The Port once gained, I'll crown thy Sacred brow  
With Laurels that so justly are thy due:  
And yearly my Oblation will renew.  
Then say, shall I proceed?— O no 'tis vain  
With thy crazed Bark to venture on this main,  
With wa●en wings to soar against that Sun,  
Whose Rays can melt them,  thy flight's begun;  
Or shouldst thou swiftly rise, i'th' middle flight,  
Her lustre lust would o'er power thy weaker sight,  
And leave thee in a Maze of thoughtless night.  
Must I desist then?— Yes, 'tis just you shoved,  
For such perfections can't be understood.  
Rest then my Quill, no more my thoughts aspire,  
Yet what I cannot reach, I must admire.   

A New Song.  

1.  
HIgh thoughts and honour to others impart,  
But give me thy Heart,  
That treasure, that treasure alone,  
I beg for my own.  
So gentle a love, so fervent a fire,  
My Soul does inspire.   

2.  
That treasure, that treasure alone,  
I beg for my own,  
Your love let me crave,  
Give me in possessing  
So matchless a blessing,  
That Empire is all I would have.   

3.  
Love's my Petition,  
And all my Ambition,  
If e'er you discover  
So faithful, so faithful a Lover,  
So real a flame,  
I'll die, I'll die, and give up my name.    

Song.  
GEntly, ah gently Lady touch the wound  
Which you yourself have made;  
That pain must needs, must needs be very much,  
Which makes me of your hand afraid.  
Cordials of pity, pity give me now,  
For I too weak for bleeding grow.  
For I too weak for bleeding grow.   

Song.  

1.  
BY Jove I'll tell her boldly that 'tis she,  
Why should she ashamed or angry be,  
To be beloved by me?  
The Gods may give their Altars o'er,  
They'll smoak but seldom any more,  
If none but happy, but happy men, but happy men  
Must them adore.   

2.  
The Lightning, sturdy Oaks in vain oppose,  
To strike sometimes do not disdain  
The humble shrubs that spread the plain,  
She being so high and I so low,  
Her power by this does greater show,  
Who at such distance gives so sure a blow.   

3.  
Compared with her all things so worthless prove,  
That nought on Earth can towards her move,  
Till it be exalted by her Love.  
Equal to her alas there's none,  
She like a Deity is grown,  
That must create, or else must be,  
That must create, or else must be alone.    

A Letter to a Scornful Lady.  
MAdam, must I be still your sacrifice,  
And yet you'll not vouchsafe to cast your Eyes  
On the wrecked Victim that does bleeding lie  
On Love's great Altar, you to Deify.  
Oh how could Heaven destruction frame so fair?  
Yet bright as you destroying Angels are.  
But must I blame you? No, it must not be:  
What then, must I still court my destiny?  
Alas, what gales of sighs sent from my breast,  
The calmest air with whirlwinds have oppressed.  
How have I wept, and strove to quench in vain,  
The scorching anguish of my feverish pain:  
But like a man who deadly poison drinks,  
And when it flames, to coolest River brinks  
With speed does haste, and there with greedy Jaws,  
Hoping for ease, the Water freely draws.  
But ah, alas, that does increase his pains,  
Rousing the sires that feed upon his veins  
Into a tenfold rage. So when I strive  
The wounding passion from my Breast to drive,  
Your fair Idea your Remembrance brings,  
And Cupid shafts more swift than Lightning slings.  
What must I do then, say, can you not love?  
If not 'tis Death, or Life if you approve  
Of him who is your Slave; do as you please.  
Give Life or Death, for either brings him ease,  
Who has resolved himself yours, or his Graves, J. L.   

A Letter from a Gentleman in the City, to his Mistress in the Country.  
Dear Mistress,  
TAke it not amiss though I am sensible that you think my absence tedious: Assure yourself I am as much troubled that some unexpected affairs have unfortunately detained me from enjoying the felicity I so often have been exhilarated with during my conversing with you; but be not any ways dejected, neither attribute absence from any wilful neglect, for certain it is, no earthly creature is more happy than I in being ascertained of the constant affections of so divine a Lady as yourself; therefore it shall be my diligence speedily to dispatch my most urgent occasions, and then will fly to you with all the wings of eager Love, till when ten thousand joys and blessings shower upon my Divine Mistress.  
Your constant and loyal Servant, never to alter till Death, J. B.   

An Ode.  
MIraculous, what love me one whole day!  
I do expect thou'lt antedate thy vow  
To morrow, and wilt say,  
I find that even now  
We are not those we were,  
Or that a Lover may forswear;  
For as true Death's true Marriages untie,  
So if you'll dare the truth to justify,  
Love's contracts like to those  
Bind but till sleep, Death's Image does unloose:  
●aving thus purposed falsehood, you  
Can ne'er be true,  
Practise thy worst of change, I'll alter too.   

Perfect Beauty.  

1.  
SO looks the Virgin Rose,  
When cherished by the Genial truth,  
Her Crimson Beauties do disclose,  
As do the Ruby portals of her mouth.   

2.  
Which When she doth unfold,  
Two bright transparent Rows  
Of Pearl you may behold,  
From which a breath of Amber flows.   

3.  
A more than Tyrian Purple  
Doth o'erspread  
Her Lips, which softer are  
Than the Swans down, and smother far.   

4.  
The costly juice that dwells  
In Oriental shells  
To them looks pale,  
That are so purely red.   

5.  
Fair Cheeks, that look  
Like blushing Roses placed  
In purest Ivory,  
Or Coral within Snow enchased.   

6.  
The Glory of the spring  
Grows pale and languishing,  
For Envy so outshined  
By her to be.   

7.  
Powerful Triumphant Eyes,  
That in two Crystal Prisons do contain  
Death in a frowns disguise: How gladly would I die,  
To be by those Eyes slain.   

8.  
Delightful Cruelty of those all-charming Eyes,  
Who daily try  
Their potency,  
Yet gently Tyrannize.    

A pleasant Letter sent to a person upon the Death of his Wife, to divert him from Melancholy.  
FAith Tom I lately was acquainted with the good News of thy slipping out at the backdoor of Purgatory, which thou never couldst have done, had not Death befriended thee by charming thy Guardianess into a perpetual slumber. How couldst thou propose to thyself any felicity whilst thou cohabitedst with storms and Tempests? Why man thy house might have been really termed Boreas' Cave, for whilst she lived, all thy affairs were a heap of confusion and disorder, nothing but struggling whirlwinds murmured within thy habitation, and whenever they broke lose, disturbed the neighbouring Villagers at so rude a rate, as if a Hurricane had been amongst them. Well, I think thou mayest count this thy year of Jubilee, and keep an Anniversary in commemoration of thy deliverance: But if you say, though she was bad, yet the ties of Love and Nature oblige you to grieve for her, and thou wilt suffer Penance for her sake, imitate the Widow Turtle, never marry again, lest your second folly upbraid you more than the former.  
Yours Tom, wishing you a merry Life, and to continue free from care, D. P.   

In veneration of Age.  
HEnce you profaners of all sacred things,  
Let them be blotted, let Fame's nimble Wings  
Ne'er bear their praises, who dare Age despise.  
Age that is still the glory of the wise  
Which is esteemed for ever: What can be  
More venerable than Antiquity?  
The World's more prized the older it does grow,  
In it more Wisdom, Riches, Strength do flow.  
Age leads us to Heavens everlasting Gate,  
Where Snow-haired Patriarches and Apostles wait  
For to convey us to the Throne of bliss,  
Surrounded with Eternal Happiness.   

A Dialogue between two Lovers, Pandolphus and Astella.  Pandolphus. 
BRightest of the Creation, how long must I languish  you will cast on me a pitying Eye?  Astella. 
Sir, I know not your meaning.  Pandolphus. 
My meaning, my good Angel, if without offence I may explain it, is to know how long I must love e'er I shall obtain your love in requital. In requital did I say? O pardon my presumption, Madam, for all ●●at I can do, is too mean an oblation to make satisfaction for the smallest of your favours; but since it is lawful for Subjects to petition Princes for things la●●●l to be granted; so I am bold to ask your love ●nough should you over-bless me by bestowing it o●●e, I have nothing to make requital, but a constant will and obedient resolution to serve you.  Astella. 
Alas Sir, I am yet in green years, and am ignorant that Love means, and must be better instructed in ●hat affair, by taking counsel of those that are wiser ●●an myself.  Pandolphus. 
Ah Madam, Love himself is the greatest master in ●●e Universe, and consequently best able to instruct 〈◊〉, would you but listen to him.  Astella. 
No, I dare not, for I have often been told that he ●●●s all manner of Cruelty towards his Disciples, by ●●●icting them with strange Imaginations, tormenting ●●●rs, wracking Jealousies, Despair, and a thousand ●●ch like insufferable tortures.  Pandolphus. 
O you mistake Lady, or at least have heard the bu●●ness but by halves, for that is never but when you ●●●dles are cruel to mankind that Love's severe; for ●●en you prove gracious, and like giving powers ●●ed your smiling influences on us, there is not in the ●●eation such a blessing as Lovers hearts united.  Astella. 
Alas, I dare not try, nor dare I longer parley, for I feel something trembling at my Heart.  Pandolphus. 
Nay, leave me not, my bright Star, by whose Light I steer my course, hoping, my relenting Fair, at last to Anchor in the Haven of my Happiness.  Astella. 
Pardon me Sir, I'm indisposed, and must retire.  Pandolphus. 
And can you leave me, my good Genius? Can you withdraw that Heavenly face, without affording 〈◊〉 one smile, by gazing on which I enjoyed so much felicity? Do, and give me Death.  Astella. 
No, you must live: Ah I feel a yielding in my Breast, I am betrayed by an Enemy within.  Pandolphus. 
And must I live then? and hast thou smiled upon me, and revived with thy sweet influence, my drooping Soul? Blessed, for ever blessed be the moment wherein you showered such a favour on the meanest of your Slaves. O may this moment last for ever, or at le● be eternised in the registers of Fame.  Astella. 
Pray Sir leave off these Rhapsodies, and for th● time we must part, though I forbidden you not to hope what another meeting may produce. Sir, for thi● time fraewel.  Pandolphus. 
Go then, my brightest Sun, since thou leavest behind thee such blooming hopes of happiness, and may ten thousand blessings wait on every step thou makest, till the happy time we meet again; till when I'll riot on those pregnant hopes thou hast lavishly bestowed upon me.   

A young Gentleman debarred from the sight of his Mistress, thus confers with her by Letter.  

Divine Mistress,  
HOw justly have I cause to term myself unhappy, since I find myself cast down from the height of felicity before I had perfectly attained it; for no sooner had I been blessed, after much difficulty, by conversing with you, and enjoying your charming presence, the centre of all my worldly joy, but by too suspicious and cruel Parents you were snatched from me, and confined, I fear for my sake, to straighter reclusements than are pleasing or suitable to so much goodness; but if so, Lady, then think at the same time what a matchless grief it is to my heart, what inexpressible sorrow overwhelms me, not only to consider the Inconveniencies you sustain, but likewise to think the time of seeing you is not limited; but however like the mournful Turtle, I wait with a constant patience, and in the mean while contrive all means for your deliverance: Hoping you will return a Letter, to satisfy my longing Soul of your estate and welfare; till when, and for ever in hopes of your speedy deliverance, I remain  
Your unalterable Lover, C. R.   

Her Answer.  
Sir,  
I Received your Letter, though with some difficulty, and was not a little overjoyed to understand your constant resolution, and the continuation of your affections towards me, as you in return may be assured of mine; hoping this trouble will in a short time be blown over, that undisturbed we shall enjoy each others society; to procure which shall be my daily study: And in the mean while I would have you rest contented, and assured of her affections, who is  
Wholly yours, A.D.    

A Maid or Widow being about to be forced by her Parents to wed the Man she cannot affect, may thus expostulate.  
Dear Parents,  
ALthough my sorrows and afflictions are such, that I am far more capable to weep and sigh, than to express my Souls deep Imaginations in any other dialect, yet I hold it my duty, not my disobedience, to acquaint you, that because Marriages are first made in Heaven, and then contracted and consummated on Earth; therefore it being my unrepented happiness first to fix my love and serious affections on ●. T. marvel not that I cannot alter my determination, which stands as fixed and immovable as the centre, not doubting but the Powers Device have ordained him for my Husband; therefore in all pity, prostrate on my knees, I beseech you not any ways to oblige me to marry any other; or should I be so inclinable, yet the man you propose could never find place in my Heart; therefore as you tender my quiet and happiness in this world and that to come, I humbly implore you not to go about to make me break my vow, for 'tis impossible to wrong me and not yourselves, by attempting to enforce me, contrary ●o my Inclination; but if yet you will not be sensible hereof, I call God to be a just Witness between us of your Cruelty towards me, and the candour of my innocence towards you, and the man who in the sight of the great Judge and omnipotent Creator of all things is my betrothed Husband, etc.   

Upon the presentation of a Picture.  
BEhold in this, thou mirror of thy kind,  
The beauteous Emblem of thyself confined.  
●air Ve●us Image lively is displayed,  
Here charming Beauty is in colours laid.  
'Tis here quite senseless, but in you it has life:  
Exceeding far the Thunderers fair Wife.  
Whose Eyes in brightness do the Sun exceed,  
And in whose cheeks fresh Roses still are spread:  
Whose Neck is Ivory, and whose Breasts are Snow,  
And all's perfection that is hid below.   

Upon the presentation of a Looking-glass.  
MAdam, in this your beauties you may see,  
Those charming Beauties that enchanted me:  
Whose force, beyond the power of Magic art,  
Through empty Air, have boar away my heart:  
Or Loadstone like, by their attractive force,  
Have power to draw the steely Hearts by force:  
For I that never loved nor begged before,  
Am forced to love, and suppliant-like, implore  
Your pity, me from ruin to restore.   

A young Gentlewoman having married against the will of her Parents, may thus make her submission.  

Ever Honoured Parents,  
FRom whom next Heaven, I derived my being and whose tender care supported my infant year from the infinite casualties and dangers that attended them: Pardon I most humbly beseech you, the error of your disobedient Daughter, who blinded with Love, and over powered by affection, has thus d●red, contrary to your express commands, to enter into a Marriage-state; but if showers of tears and gal● of melancholy sighs are able to atone for an offence of this Magnitude, they have already been offered● Sacrifice to your just displeasure; the sense of lyi● under your anger has still attended on my midnight dreams, and terrified my broken slumbers with the shadows of those severe Judgements the disobedient may justly expect: Therefore if Repentance ●● wash away my guilt, and restore me to your favours and good opinions, all the business of my life shall be thought insufficient to expiate my rash folly; but ● you still resolve to persist thus obdurate and unmoved, and will not deign to cast a pitying Eye, to e●● the torments I endure, then casting off all further thought of Life, I'll seek for quiet slumbers in the Grave.  
Your now most obedient and sorrow Daughter, A. L.   

The Father's Reply.  
Daughter,  
I Have received your pretended submission, and communicated it to your Mother, who disobedient as you are, finds a yielding in herself to pity your overweening folly and rashness, and has so far prevailed upon my good nature by many persuasive arguments, that in hopes your future obedience will make some amends for that which had well nigh brought my grey hairs with sorrow to the Grave, I have cancelled my resolves, but will you upon pain of incurring my further displeasure, not to enter my doors till you obtain my leave; yet be of good comfort, for I am still your Father, as you prove yourself obedient.  
J. G.    

The Scorner scorned. A Song.  

1.  
MAdam, no more I ask your love,  
Your charms I all defy,  
Paint nor Perfume no more shall move  
Me to such fond Idolatry.  
Cupid, thou God of Troubles, hence,  
Thou Enemy to rest,  
Against thy shafts I have a fence,  
To guard my wary breast.   

2.  
That Woman should suppose disdain,  
Scorns, taunts and coyness are  
The way our services to gain,  
And take us in their snare:  
'Tis nothing so, for these are things  
That ever set us free:  
Ingratitude it always brings  
Love's Captives Liberty.    

A Dialogue between Philander and Celia.  Philander. 
WEll met, my lovely Nymph, beneath this shade,  
This happy Grove at first for Love w●● made▪  
Lie down, my Joy, upon this flowery Bed,  
Which is with Violets all inamelled.  Celia. 
And what must then be done, my blushes rise,  
And Love gins o'er me to Tyrannize:  
Nay, kind Philander don't a Nymph surprise.  Philander. 
Alas, why now so coy? How long shall we  
Discourse of Love, and own his Deity?  
Yet like dissenting Subjects disagree,  
When all in's Empire should be harmony?  Celia. 
Can I but think you true, I'd entertain  
The pleasing shaft that seeks to wound in vain,  
And freely give you leave to ease your pain.  Philander. 
True! doubt not, my lovely Nymph, 'twere sin,  
Beyond the scope of Thunder's punishing,  
Should not I ever ever constant prove,  
And bow to nought but you and conquering Love.  Celia. 
Then thus I yield to my Philander's Arms,  
No more I'll dread nor fate nor fortune's harms,  
But blushing lie amidst a thousand charms.  Philander. 
Blessed moment, happier far than Infant time,  
When our first Parents in their blooming prime,  
In Eden's sacred soil, under each shade  
To charming Love the Rights of Nuptials paid.   

A young Gentlewoman whose Parents earnestly press her to marry the man she loves not, writes to him she loves to free her from the temptation by a speedy Marriage.  

Sir,  
SInce I saw you last, great has been the trial of my constancy to you, through the incessant solicitations, nay, commands of my Parents to marry with B. W. but such is my unalterable resolution not to break the vows made to you before the sacred powers of Heaven, that still when they urged me, I answered with nothing but tears and sighs: Yet seeing all flesh is subject to frailties, as you tender my welfare and your own, contrive a way by which I may be delivered from these temptations, which cannot be effectually done but by a speedy Marriage, which will put an end to your Rivals hopes, and give us the mutual satisfaction we so long have wished for. Sir, in expectation of your Answer I remain.  
Your constant Friend, M. B.   

His Answer.  
Dear Lady,  
IN whom do centre all thy joys, most to be admired of thy Sex, whom neither Riches nor the gaudy gloss of Honour can tempt to break thy vows, what recompense am I able to return, capable of meriting one adorned with the richest gifts of Nature, and made complete by the lavish hands of Virtue and Wisdom, they having trusted thee with all their choicest store; but since our Souls are indissolvably united, words are of the smallest erficacy, therefore as your request shall (e'er the bright coursers of the Sun have circled round the Universe) be performed, I hope well to your satisfaction; till when, and ever after, ten thousand blessings wait upon the Divinest Mistress of him who is  
Your Virtue's Admirer, J. S.    

A Song.  

1.  
JEnny come away, Jockey does call ye,  
Our kine they do stray, and lost will all be,  
Unless thou Jenny, come to the Field,  
Where Ise win thee if thou'st yield.   

2.  
Come, my bonny Lass, the morning invites,  
Smiling on the Grass, to Love incites:  
Geud Faith Ise love thee many a day,  
But could not move thee Love to repay.   

3.  
Jockey Ise hear thee, and will come to thee,  
Yet Ise do sear me thou wilt undo me,  
But if thou'st do, Ise tell my Mother,  
And she you know will tell thy Father.   

4.  
Prithee sweet fear nor, Ice will be kind,  
Jealousy wear not, for thou wilt find  
Jockey constant; yes, and so loving,  
That by this same kiss, he's ne'er be roving.    

The true Symptoms of Love.  

IF when thy Stomach calls to eat,  
Thou cut'st thy fingers 'stead of meat;  
And with much gazing on her face  
Dost rise an hungry from thy place,  
By these acts thou dost discover  
That thou art a perfect Lover.   

2.  
If when she appears i'th' room  
Thou quakest, and presently art dumb:  
And in striving this to cover,  
Dost repeat thy words twice over:  
Thou by this dost plain discover  
That thou art a perfect Lover.    

A Dialogue between Cupid and Somnus, the feigned Gods of Love and Sleep.  Cupid. 
Drowsy wretch who buriest the World in sloth, and like thy elder Brother Death, stealest away those joys that are assigned for mortals happiness below, how darest thou enter my Palace to rob my willing Lovers of those Delights, which thou art never capable to give? Haste hence, by my all conquering shafts I thee command; fly, I say, to humble Cottages, where moiling Swains, tired with the tedious labour of the day, covet thy drowsy embraces.  Somnus. 
Thou troubler of the World, and enemy to rest, thou hast not power to limit my universal Empire, all Creation owes me homage, nor can Nature's self withstand my force; the wakeful Warriors, though surrounded with continual danger, own my charming force, and lulled by me, repose on the cold ground as easy as upon Beds of Down; when thou distractest mankind with strange desire tormentest him with anxious thoughts, ten thousand fears and jealousies daily wait on thee, death and ruin are frequently thy guests, ushered in by lust, stolen embraces, breach of Wedlock, Jealousy and Despair.  Cupid. 
Thou hold Detractor hence, or by my Mother Venus starry Eyes, my winged shafts, pointed with scorching fevers, shall destroy thy drowsy Monarchy, turn thy securest sleeps to broken slumbers, and with ten thousand frightful dreams distract thee, till thy Subjects fly thy yoke, and willingly hasten to thy Brother's Death for his protection.  Somnus. 
By the World's sweet Repose, I fear not all thy force, but laugh thee still to scorn, and it shall henceforth be my business to join with Bacchus to the ruin of your feeble Empire.  Cupid. 
Thy power's too weak, nor are thy charms of force With sleep, a Lovesick fever to divorce.   

The Shepherds Address.  
LOvely Maid, best of any  
Of our Plains, though thrice as many  
Veil to Love, and leave denying:  
Endless knots let fates be tying.  
Such a face, so fine a feature,  
(Kindest, fairest, sweetest creature)  
Never yet was found but loving,  
Oh! then let my plaints be moving:  
Trust a Shepherd, though the meanest,  
Truth is best, when she is plainest.  
Love's not Love, with Vows contesting,  
Faith is faith, without protesting.  
Time, that all things doth inherit,  
Renders each desert his merit.  
If that fail in me as no man,  
Doubtless time ne'er won a Woman.  
Maidens still should be relenting,  
And once flinty, still repenting.  
Youth with youth is best combined,  
Each one with his like best twined.  
Beauty should have beauteous meaning,  
Ever that hope easeth ' plaining.  
Unto you, whom Nature dresses,  
Needs no comb to smooth your tresses.  
This way it may do its duty,  
In your Locks to shade your beauty.  
Do so, and to love be turning,  
Else each Heart for you'll be burning.   

A short and passionate Epistle.  
WOnder nor, Lady, that in verse I writ,  
Since you more fair than my bright Muse, incite  
My ravished Soul to muster all its power,  
And at the shrine of your bright self, implore  
The mighty favours that your bounties give,  
To those that by your smiles do own they live.  
Pardon my boldness then, that I request  
You'd bid me hope, To make me ever blessed:  
For on your will both Life and Death depend,  
Smiles to Elysium, frowns to death can send  
Your devoted Servant, G. L.   

An observation on Love.  

HE's frantic sure that truly says  
That he can love a tedious hour,  
I mean not love in such short time decays,  
But that it every moment shifts its Bower;  
Who would not laugh at me  
If I should say,  
I saw a flash of Powder  
Burn a day?   

2.  
For Love, like Lightning's hot and cold,  
It comes and goes both at one time,  
It's in a moment bought and sold,  
And ever-fading in its prime.  
'Tis got, 'tis lost, 'tis got  
And lost again;  
And for a moment's joy,  
Gives days of pain.    

The Invocation.  

ECho sweet Nymph, that livest unseen  
Within thy Airy Cell,  
By slow Meander's Margin Green,  
And in each fair inamelled vail,  
Where sweet Harmonious Philomela,  
Nightly to thee her ravishments does tell.   

2.  
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair,  
That bright as thy Narcissus are:  
Oh if you have  
Hid them in some flowery Cave,  
Tell me but where,  
Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere;  
So mayst thou be translated to the Skies,  
And give resound to Heavenly Harmonies.    

An Epigram.  

SIllius has brought from strange and barren Lands,  
A black and swarthy Wench, with many hands;  
The which he does in Golden Letters say,  
That she's his dearest Wife, not stolen away.  
He might have saved, Heaven knows, with small discretion,   

The Paper and the Ink, and his Confession;  
For none that doth behold her face and making,  
Would judge she e'er was st●●n, but by mistaking.    

A Gentleman being reduced to the point of Death, by his Mistress' disregard of his passion, may thus express himself, to move her pity.  
Divinest Mistress,  
I Have sent you in this Paper a gale of sighs to kindle the flames of Love in your Breast, though I would not have them equalise mine, who know no mean, but make me all a Torrid Zone, frying in a continual Fever, whose heat has near dried up the springs of Life, and will at last prove my Funeral Pile, where Phoenixlike, I shall in self-kindled flames expire, unless you by sympathising do abate their ardour; you whose Eyes, like Burning-glasses, first inflamed my Soul at a distance, can only give me rest; therefore, fair Lady, as you tender my Life, and would be eternised in the Book of Fame, for raising him from the brink of the Grave, whom all Apollo's cannot secure from death. Let your Mercy over balance your rigour. And so, Lady, in expectation of your commiseration, I remain  
Your languishing Lover, J. B.   

A short entertainment of Love: In a Dialogue between Calydon and Celia.  Celia. 
YOur Complaints, which trembled through my Ears, have had the power to alter both my will and mind, so that I am now resolved to give your services their recompense. And if my angry Parents will openly permit the celebration of the joyful ceremony, I am resolved to marry you in private, and to permit you to rifle all the stores of Love, whilst your intended Rival, failing in his expectation, languishes and feeds on empty thought.  Calydon. 
Bright soul of Love, Mistress of all perfection, Nature's Masterpiece, and Earth's unvaluable Jewel, what recompense can worthless me return for such an inestimable favour? nothing but an endless and boundless Love can make the least return of Gratitude; therefore be assured my Life shall be but one great study, and that shall be in considering how I may in some measure recompense your goodness.  Celia. 
Why all these ceremonious Compliments and acquaint expressions? you know long since you have been sole proprietor of my affections, and now nothing but the sacred tye of Wedlock remains to complete our mutual felicities, and that shall be performed whenever my love pleases.  Calydon. 
To morrow then be thou the happy day, may Ph●ebus from the East ascend with smiles, as on the Infant World, and may each propitious Star from his Eternal Sphere shed all his influence on Mankind, and Edenize the Universe: To morrow, my dearest, and till then a thousand blessings wait upon my Love.  Celia. 
To morrow, my only joy, shall those bands be tied, which shall render our joys as perfect as our first Parents were in Paradise; and till then farewell, thou sole possessor of my heart.  Calydon. 
Farewell, my only joy, and highest hope on this side Heaven.   

A Sonnet.  

1.  
COme away, blessed Souls, no more  
Feed your Eyes with what is poor,  
'Tis enough that you have blest  
What was rude; what was undressed;  
And created with your Eyes,  
Out of Chaos, Paradise.   

2.  
These Trees no Golden Apples give,  
Here's no Adam, here's no Eve,  
Not a Serpent dares appear,  
Whilst you please to carry here.  
Oh, then sit and take your due,  
These the first-fruits are that grew  
In this Eden, and are thrown  
On this Altar, as your own.    

Song.  

1.  
STrife, hurry and noise that fills the lewd Town,  
Sure at last 'tis time to give over,  
And in the calm shades of the Country alone,  
Blessed quiet and ease to recover.   

2.  
Smiling hopes, idle fears, and restless desires,  
Are the busy man's constant attendants;  
What he vainly pursues, the mind that retires  
Already is come to an end on't.    

The excellence of Virtue. A Poem.  
HEnce gaudy Beauty, outside fairness hence,  
All thou canst do is but to please one sense;  
But Virtue centres i'th' Eternal mind:  
'Tis such a Mine as India ne'er confined,  
Nor Tagus' Golden Sands, could yet compare  
To that rich treasure which the Virtuous share.  
'Tis all Elysium, the pathway to Heaven,  
That best of gifts that was to Mortals given.   

Song.  

1.  
WHen busy Fame o'er all the plains  
Parthenia's praises rung,  
And on their Oaten Pipes each Swain  
Her matchless praises sung:  
The envious Nymphs were forced to yield,  
She had the sweeter face,  
No emulous disputes they held  
But for the second place.   

2.  
Young Coridon, whose stubborn Heart  
No Beauty e'er could move,  
But smiled at Cupid's Bow and Dart,  
And braved the God, the God of Love  
Would view this Nymph, and pleased at first  
Such silent charms to see,  
With wonder gazed, then sighed and cursed  
His curiosity.    

Song.  

1.  
SMiling Phillis has an Air  
So enchanting, all men love her,  
But her hidden Beauties are  
Wonders I dare not discover:  
So bewitching, that in vain  
I endeavour to forget her,  
Still she brings me back again,  
And I daily love her better.   

2.  
Kindness springs within her Eyes,  
And from thence is always flowing,  
Every minute does surprise,  
With fresh Beauties still a blowing.  
Were she but as true as fair,  
Never man had such a treasure,  
But I die with jealous care,  
In the midst of all my pleasure.   

3.  
Free and easy, without pride,  
Is her language and her fashion,  
Setting gentle Love aside,  
She's unmoved with any passion.  
When she says I have her Heart,  
Though I ought not to believe her,  
She so kindly plays her part,  
I could be deceived ever.    

An Apprentice who has left his Master to ramble, and finding his folly, may thus solicit by Letter to be again received into favour.  
Sir,  
NOt without abundance of sorrow and remorse do I think of the happy state from which my youthful ●ollies have transposed me, nor am I unsensible of the miseries I have sustained since I left your service; therefore, though with shame and confusion of face, I implore you once more to receive your wanderer, and ●ay double diligence shall I well hope make amends ●●r my neglect, and great offence. So resolving to ●hrow myself at your feet, and undergo such punishment as you shall think fit to inflict upon me, rather than live thus miserable. I shall second my Let●er with my presence, and till than I remain  
Your Penitent Servant, L. B.   

A Dialogue between John the Butler, and Dorothy the Chambermaid.  John. 
WEll, my pretty Dolly, you know I have a long time born you good will, now I hope you will requite me with love for love.  Dorothy. 
Truly I know not how to believe you, though, I must confess, you have often told me so.  John. 
How, not believe me, my precious? O be no longer diffident, but if thou wilt still torment me by being hardhearted, I'll soon convince thee of the sincerity of my affections, by making an Exit into the other World.  Dorothy. 
Ha', how do you mean?  John. 
Why, in plain English, I'll kill myself rather tha● endure the tormenting pains of Love without hope of ease or intermission.  Dorothy. 
Nay, talk not of Death whilst there's business for Life, all this seeming Cruelty was but to try thy patience and constancy, and now I find them both proof, I'll cease the Combat, and yield you the Victory.  John. 
O happy sound, speak those words again, nay, let some Angel with a Golden Trumpet sound them to the World, this very moment recompenses all my care; but wilt thou be mine, speak, or do I dream thou saidst it?  Dorothy. 
I will be yours, therefore use me as you please.  John. 
The joy's too big for this place longer to contain: come my Joy, let us haste to consummate out happiness.  Dorothy. 
What you please.   

A Dialogue between an Apprentice, and his Master's Daughter.  Prentice. 
MIstress Marry, since your Father and Mother's absence gives us opportunity, why may not we ●alk of Love?  Master's Daughter. 
To what end?  Apprentice. 
Why truly to the same end that all young Men and Maids do.  Master's Daughter. 
As how?  Apprentice. 
Why, tending to the happy Joys of Marriage?  Master's Daughter. 
Marriage I think you said, nay, first serve your time ●ut, and then 'twill be soon enough to discourse of that affair.  Apprentice. 
Nay, my best Mistress, do not frown upon me, for 'tis for your sake only that I have undergone so much slavery as I have.  Master's Daughter. 
For my sake, how can that be? Are you not bound to do what you do?  Apprentice. 
Alas, those bonds would have proved far too weak to have held me, had I not been fast fettered in the chains of love, laid by your perfection to enslave my soul.  Master's Daughter. 
Fie upon it, how you talk now: Well James, be observant to your Master, and when you are out of your time, I'll tell you perhaps more of my mind, and in the mean time I do not forbid you my company at convenient times.  Apprentice. 
Ten thousand thanks, my Divinest Mistress, for so lavish a blessing; as for you, I would not grudge to exceed the Patriarches service for his much-loved Rachel.   

On Honour.  

1.  
HOnour's a blast, a bubble, nought but air,  
Which at a distance only can look fair,  
And still attended is with doubts and care,  
Which fail not to bring forth black despair.   

2.  
By Death 'tis oft achieved, and seldom stood,  
Unless at some time it were marked with blood:  
Its Sea's Ambition, on whose boundless flood  
It's often, often tossed, till all is lost that's good.    

Song.  

1.  
MY Love she is fair, although she is cruel,  
And never does spare to make my Heart fuel:  
Her Tresses like Gold do glistering flow,  
And her cheeks they enfold both Roses and Snow:  
Her breath is perfume, beyond Asia's sweets,  
Or Arabian Gum, when Phoebus it heats.   

2.  
Her lips and her Teeth to Coral and Pearl,  
To each one that seethe, still are parallel:  
Her Neck, like the Swans, so white does appear,  
Her Breasts and her Hands they sure have no peer.  
Her Belly, and what's below, my Muse cannot paint;  
Nor no man shall know those rare parts of my Saint.    

The Countryman's wooing. A New-Song.  John. 
FAith Bessy you know that I long have loved you,  
And to be my Wife full often have moved you,  
But you have looked scornful; yet now tell me true,  
What is it, my Sweeting, you mean for to do?  
If that you will have me, deny me no more,  
For I of Compliments have spent my store:  
Then say, shall us wedded be? Nay, Love, blush not,  
For I'm resolved to know the very upshot.  Betty. 
Are you in earnest then? nay, if you be so,  
Ice must ask my Mamma before Ise con go:  
Ise warrant she'll glad be, when once she hears on't:  
Ise oft hear you talk, but ne'er weened you'd a done't:  
But if we must be married: Ah! be married,  
Ice will be to the Kirk on Horseback carried;  
And than we's have a feast made of Curds and Cream,  
Where Ice am resolved for to watchel mine weam.  John. 
Then art thou so willing, my pretty Pigsneys,  
The only Jewel that Jony e'er did prize:  
Then to thy Mother's House speedily let's gang,  
For to be tickling of thee, faith I do long:  
We'll dally on the Pease-mow, sport it merrily,  
And all the pretty arts of Love there will try:  
I will clip thee in my Arms, with soft kisses,  
Such as Gentlefolk give to their kind Misses.   

Love's force despised. A New Song.  

1.  
A Way foolish Boy,  
I'll not endure  
Love, that simple toy,  
For to procure  
To me the least annoy.  
Away with your Quiver,  
Your idle Dart  
Shall never, never  
Procure my smart,  
But I'll brave you ever.   

2.  
Oh! that men should be  
Afraid of one  
Who could never see,  
And at his Throne  
Still to bow the knee.  
Whom folly empowers  
For to bear sway,  
When as idle hours  
Us do betray,  
To sleep in his Bowers.    

The forsaken Damsel.  

1.  
BLue Thetis, Goddess of the raging Sea,  
Whom all the Beauteous Nymphs obey,  
From whose dread anger all the Tritons haste,  
Scouring through Amphitrite's waist,  
Which is calm when you smile, but when you frown,  
The mounting surges Nations drown.  
Haste, great Goddess, haste unto my aid,  
Who by false man am now betrayed.   

2.  
Who with my spoils does triumph on your waves,  
Proudly the God of Love he braves.  
Enslaved my Heart, and then from me did fly;  
Which is the worst of Tyranny.  
Sink him with Winds, his Ship with Lightning burn,  
Or speedily force his return.  
For I have such a fever in my Breast,  
That he or Death must give me rest.    

The Loyalists Delight. A New Song.  

1.  
GReat Charles, our blessed Sovereign,  
At last has subdued  
The murmuring faction,  
That strove to intrude  
Into matters of State,  
For to embroil the Nation:  
Sedition no more  
Shall be made a vocation.   

2.  
But under the Reign  
Of so bounteous a King,  
From whom all Virtues  
And goodness does spring.  
Good Subjects shall flourish  
In plenty and peace,  
Whilst faction now blasted,  
Shall ever decrease.    

A Song.  

1.  
HArk how the Drum beats,  
To the Wars let's go,  
Dub a dub a dub Boys,  
Ay is it so?  
Then come my Lads along, come  
There's Honour to be gained,  
We are all true English men,  
Our Courage ne'er was stained.   

2.  
But if we first carouse it,  
We shall be more than men,  
We shall fight like any mad,  
One of us will beat ten.  
The lusty Dutch, so famed at Sea,  
Whilst sober ever shrunk;  
But fought like Tigers for their prey,  
When they are sound drunk.   

3.  
Then fill each bowl up to the brim,  
'Twill make us for Mars more fit,  
'Twill strengthen our arms against all harms,  
And sharpen our dull Wits.  
Tan-ta-ra-ra-ra the Trumpet sounds,  
Of nothing but War we now must think;  
Yet do nothing rashly,  
First let us drink,  
Yet do nothing rashly, etc.    

The Milk maids delight. A New Song.  

1.  
IN the morning betimes we dabble i'th' dew,  
And though our smock's wet, what is that to you.  
The fragrant fields us Nosegays do yield,  
And the Lark she doth sing, to welcome the spring,  
Whilst the Kine they cry Moo-moo-moo.   

2.  
Full Udders we stroke, and make Curds and Cream,  
And with good Syllabubs watchel our weams;  
Or make ourselves happy, with Ale that is nappy,  
Filled in a brown Bowl, or trip round the Maypole,  
Whilst each takes the Lad she esteems,   

3.  
From cares and debate we ever are free,  
And there's none lives so happy, so happy as we:  
Let 'em talk what they will, we best lives lead still,  
No care nor strife does trouble our life,  
And when we want husbands, our Loves soon agree.  
And when, etc.    

To his Mistress, upon her recovery from a fever.  
AH! whither fled are all those Roses-fair,  
That lately in your cheeks fresh blooming were?  
Cruel Disease, that dares drive from its place  
That Starlike lustre that adorned your face.  
Your grief was short, yet you may feel by this  
What Loves tormenting, burning fever is.  
And learn to pity Lovers when they lie,  
Self- Phoenix Martyred in Love's agony.  
And as time will restore each blush again,  
So likewise let it ease my feverish pain;  
Restore with kindness him 've almost slain.   

The Welsh-mans' Complimental Letter to his Mistress.  
Hur pretty Pigsney,  
Her having seen her some two tay●●aco, her had a whole fortnight's mind to sp●ak with her, but her has such a plaguy sight of pisness that her cannot find in her heart to spare tim●, for if her cud, plut her w●s come and play a game with her a● Whiphershine, for her is seldom without Tice in her Poke. If her was know what her was, her was tell by St. Taffe her was a Gentleman of Wales, and a create Trafeler, for her has peen a top of Penman-Mower. If her was know her estate, cot her was worth two pound year Land, beside her have seven Goat, two Cow, (plut was have cousboby enough) four Sows-babies; nay, her was richer than her was thought her was, for her have six Robin Run-holes in her Pingle, cot all her none coods, if her was cetch 'em: Nay, her was not tell all yet, for her has a crate many of her noun cousins, her have Hugh ap Danie, ap Shone, ap Shining, ap Shoane, ap William, ap Tomas. And if her was inquire for her, as her said before, her was Shone a Morgan, Gentleman of Wales. And so her was bid her farewell till her sees her, for Cot let her take notice her was come shortly and give her a visit: Till than her will let her alone, and mind her pisness.  
This, this from her noun Sweetheart Shone a Morgan, Gentleman of Wales.   

A Caution to Prodigal Lovers.  
IF long you'd have the World's wild females love,  
Beware that they too costly do not prove.  
A thousand ways they have youths to beguile,  
And win your Treasure with an empty smile.  
Some silently into your Purse will creep,  
And jesti●gly will snatch things they will keep:  
And by some sleight and pretty wanton suit,  
● ' enrich themselves will leave you destitute.  
If by the Shops she goes, she spies fine toys,  
And straight she enters for to make her choice:  
Looking on each, then asks thee thy advice:  
Which when she does, to answer still be nice.  
Though she with kisses tell thee she does need  
Lace, Silk or Gold; to answer her take heed:  
For by feigned kindness, she will draw you on  
To pay for what her fancy's fixed upon.  
'Tis cheap she swears, the like she ne'er could buy,  
Then wishes she the wear of it might try.  
If that w●n't do, she say; 'tis her birthday,  
And for some present on the same she'll pray:  
Which got, when e'er she wants she will be sworn  
It is her birthday, she was that day born.  
Sometimes she'll feign a passion, seem to weep,  
Alleging some sad loss, much seeking keep,  
As she had something of great price let fall,  
And say her friends her to account will call  
For such a Jewel, though the price were small.  
Then cheering up, she smiling in thy face,  
Will beg thee buy another in its place;  
Or lend her Money, she will it restore:  
Beware of that, what's lent is thine no more.  
These, and a thousand Arts lewd Women have,  
Unskilful Lovers strangely to deceive.  
But when all's gone, you'll them disdainful find,  
No more they'll love, no more they will be kind,  
But fly your converse swift as Eastern Wind.   

The Miser's dreadful Vision.  
A Miser having set his Heart on Gold,  
Adores his wealth till sleep his Eyes enfold,  
But broken slumbers for a time possessed  
The drowsy portals of uneasy rest:  
At last God Somnus with his sleepy Bows  
Sprinkling his face, a deadly sleep ensues.  
Dreams and strange fancies dance about his Bed,  
Ten thousand Proclamations fill his Head.  
Full Chests and Coffers crammed he seems to see,  
To tell strange Coin he seems intent to be.  
Placing of Jewels, whilst he sparkles round  
With Earthly Stars, when in the midst a sound▪  
Dismal as dying Groans, bid him prepare,  
And then a dreadful Image did appear,  
And shaking a bright Dart, before him stood,  
His Scarlet Robe, still dropping wet with Blood.  
When straight his Wealth a whirlwind puffed away,  
And he to air dissolved, nor did he stay,  
But snatched by a black Guard, and hurried thence.  
Into dire darkness, dismal to the sense.  
Hea● but no fire, vapours of sulphury smoke  
From ugly Daemons nostrils hourly broke.  
When on a sudden there did pierce his Ear  
Such sad laments as Mortals ne'er did hear,  
When Widows, Orphans, and Self-murtherers hied,  
And such as had by Execution died,  
Or starved in Prison, all undone by him:  
And seizing on him, forty tugged each limb,  
And haled him soon before a Daemon grim:  
Who asked the cause, and had it told him straight,  
The Miser caused their untimely fate;  
By cozening some, he made them take the Road,  
And so at Tyburn make their last abode.  
Widows unhoused, with cold and hunger died,  
Orphans to Sea forced, perished by the Tide.  
Others by him imprisoned, lost their breath,  
And died a languishing and tedious death.  
To these known truths himself had nought to say,  
But promises that he would all repay.  
But that sufficed not for th' mischief done,  
For he his dismal doom received soon,  
The Gold and Silver he unjustly got.  
Melted, in flaming Crucibles was brought,  
Whilst on his Back he lay, stretched wide his Jaw,  
They poured into his insatiate maw.  
Which scalding torture, waked him from his dream,  
When pondering on the dire and dreadful theme,  
●● vowed for to grow honest, and agree  
To give his Captive Debtors Liberty:  
Renounce Extortion, never take a bribe:  
Forsake the ruinous ungodly Tribe  
Of Hellhound Usurers, and thus by thought  
The Devil has a Reformation wrought.   

The Monsieurs Letter to his Mistres●.  
ME very well Love you, your pretty tempting face does invite me to do so, me very well know that you be a very fine Gentlewoman, be Gar Madam me do; therefore me being but a stranger in Englont, me would very fain have you teach me for boon English, and me will instruct you a-la-mode the France, Parle Francois, Madam— be Gar, if you cannot, me will come to your Bed side and teach you; nay, me will so instruct you, so that you shall never forget your lesson, besides me show you the high Gambole, the low Gambole, the Lavalto-al-a-mode. Faith me tickle you twice in a place, Madam, if you will let me, for me be a verboon Companion; but me fear me trouble you too much if me write any more, therefore me will leave the rest till me come myself and see you.  
Madam, your tres humble Serviteur, Monsieur Rague.   

A Letter from the Son to his incensed Father.  
Sir,  
IF penitential tears, and all the low submissions of a Slave could rebate the sharp points of your anger, nothing has, nor shall be wanting in me. Sincere Repentance is all that Heaven requires for sin: Remember Sir, the best of Masters has enjoined forgiveness, as we ourselves expect to be forgiven. If I have unadvisedly married contrary to your will, impute that crime to a too prevalent passion and youthful inclination; yet I hope my choice is such, setting aside the want of a portion, as can no ways be objected against: She is one that is adorned with all the perfections of Nature that can render a Woman tempting and lovely; and for her Soul, 'tis the very centre of virtue; her deportment modest and affable; all so charming, that yourself could not have beheld and conversed with her, as I did, without some feeling sparks of desire. Therefore let not your anger burn against her; but if no entreaty or submission can atone for this one disobedience, heap all your wrath on me, let me be the wretched mark to aim your fury at, and be not displeased with her, whose good Nature was wrought upon by my prevailing Rhetoric to enter the sacred bands of Wedlock. And so Sir, hoping time will waste your displeasure, I remain.  
Your dutiful, and hereafter obedient Son, till Death, T. G.   

The Ingenious Lover's admonition to his Mistress.  
BRight Beauty, you chief Idea of my mind,  
Prove like the Gods, mild, bounteous, patiented, kind:  
That then your Virtues may be raised so high,  
That their bright tops will reach the glittering sky:  
Let Cruelty be banished from your Breast,  
Let all be love, and that will make you blest.  
For Cruelty and dire disdain procure  
Scorn, though your Lover's martyrdom endure:  
For who can love that thing whose Cruelties,  
Our wounding passions can with ease despise:  
Who is't that owns the name of Man that will  
Court a Basilisk whose dire sight can kill.  
In whose bleak aspect death and ruin lies,  
Who has the power to murder with her Eyes.  
Then prove you kind, if you'd secure my Love,  
If you're once cruel, I'll disdainful prove:  
I'll scorn the scorner, till with just disdain  
The cruel Murtheress with her weapon's slain.   

The unexperienced Lovers: A Dialogue between Philaster and Phillada.  Philaster. 
ALas what can mean this eager Joy, my Philada, that transports me even to a ravishment when you appear, sure some mighty motion stirs my Soul by sympathy to move in tune, and number with yours, for I have often observed you as much concerned.  Phillada. 
How it comes to pass I know not, but sure I am when from your eyes you cast an eager gaze, methinks you shoot me to the Heart; the pointed beams you send wound insensibly, nay, fire my Soul, but how or which way I know not, therefore 'tis best to avoid you; absence may cure the burning fever of my Soul, and give you rest.  Philaster. 
Alas, my pretty Nymph, I am all tenderness, and would not hurt so bright a Creature; no, my rude hands shall never offend you, if my Eyes have done it, it was more than I was willing they should have done; but to talk of leaving me, that fatal sound wounds more than all the glances from your Eyes, for methinks I could, Phoenixlike, be well contented to suffer Martyrdom in such a gentle fire. O remove not without me, my bright Sun, lest the remainder of my days be clouded with Egyptian blackness.  Phillada. 
Alas, what good can come of gazing at each other, what avails it to stand like two Burning-glasses, insensibly giving fire to each internal faculty.  Philaster. 
Yes, 'tis mighty pleasing, for it keeps off the rage of cold December frosts, and yields a mutual warmth, yet something within tells me there's more in it than we're ware on, and I have heard there's a thing called Love that operates insensibly, and is of wondrous force.  Phillada. 
And this perhaps may be that thing, therefore 'tis time we part; for, O dreadful! I have heard my Mother say, 'tis a dangerous thing to be in Love— Ah, I cannot leave you.  Philaster. 
Fear not, my little Angel, for sure there's nothing can be harmful that at a distance promises such Joys, I seem already on the confines of an endless bliss, and fain wou●d proceed, but fear to err and lose my way.  Phillada. 
Let's venture both together then, and if we're lost, I'll be content to wander with you in whatever Maze you tread, methinks we are inseparably linked, but by what chains my Eyes cannot discern; I cannot leave you if I would— Sure some secret power has fettered us with charms.  Philaster. 
Charms indeed, such as the God of Love uses to tame Rebellious Hearts with, and make them p●●able to his commands. But let us go, our Parents call, and at a fit season, freer from discovery, we'll implore the Sacred Oracle to unfold the cause of this our pleasing pain.  Phillada. 
I'll be wholly guided by your dire 〈◊〉  Philaster. 
Then thus we move, two Bodies and one Heart,  
Both wounded are, yet hug the wounding Dart.   

A Song.  

1.  
AH Cel●a arise,  
The Birds they do sing  
Upon every bud,  
For to welcome the Spring;  
The day it looks fair,  
Let us haste to the Grove,  
And there we'll lie down  
And triumph in our Love.   

2.  
The pride of the Woods,  
And joy of each plain,  
Is my fair Celia,  
She charms ev'ry Swain:  
Whilst drooping they hang down  
Their Heads, and pass by,  
She wounds them full soon  
With a glance of her Eye.   

3.  
Yet 'tis my happiness  
To have her favour,  
Which is a treasure  
That blesses me ever.  
Then come away, come away,  
All the World over  
I'd travel, I'd travel,  
Such Joys to discover.    

The Usurer's Letter to his Mistress.  

Fair Lady,  
DEspise me not because I am old, for I have that which renders most Mortals young in the Eyes of Love, as the World goes now adays▪ though Time has snowed over these Locks, ' th' charming Gold, thou pretty darling of my affections, thou alone shalt be my Joy, and feast thy eyes on bags of Treasure; nor shall any thing be want●●● to please thy appetite that your thoughts can form if there be a possibility of procuring it; in Winter thou shalt be clad in Ermines, to secure your delicate body from cold Winter's rage, and in Summer shine in Silks and Gold: therefore be not coy nor disdainful, but since your parents have given their free consent, do you likewise give yours; which ever makes him happy, who is  
The admirer of your Beauties and Virtues, G. I.   

Her Answer.  
Sir,  
I Cannot but admire, and at the same time be sorry that you should give yourself the trouble of importuning me by Letters, when as I thought I had given you such ample satisfaction to your demands. Ca● you once imagine that I (who have the World at will, and live in the height of all earthly felicity, free from care, envy, and the frowns of a Jealous Husband) will in the prime of my youth wilfully make myself miserable, by throwing myself into the arms of age and impotency; no, but rather continue as I am to the last period of my days: Could your doarage be so foolish to think your bags of Treasure could be of force to prevail against my absolute determination: alas, the force of Gold, that Soul of Usurers, is not of power sufficient to employ my meanest thoughts. You allege, my parents are willing, but how? 'Tis if I consent freely to like and love the man they propose, otherwise, such is their tenderness towards me, which I with all obedience own, that they will not in that nature lay the least commands upon me, that is any ways disconsonant to my inclination. Therefore, Sir, rest yourself content, and be assured that you never shall prevail with her in the way of Marriage, who in friendship, for your intimacy with my Father, wishes you well to far,  
And rests her own, E. S.    

A Letter to a Quondam Mistress, newly Married.  
Lady,  
THat night Fame reached my tingling Ear  
With idle stories that I would not hear,  
I sent her back as an unwelcome guest;  
But she'd not go till she the tale expressed:  
Which when I heard, I laughed aloud, and cried,  
Then is she gone, Joy greet the gentle Bride:  
But when she urged that you, having laid by  
All Virgin blushing, bashful Modesty,  
Courted my Rival, ●iced him to your Bed,  
As weary of your ponderous Maidenhead;  
I could but wonder how my active mind  
To such mean Courtship ever was confined.  
But looking o'er my Legends, there I found,  
Your worthless name was not of force to wound;  
And that you served to pass the time away,  
When leisure hours bid me keep Holiday.   

The Loyal Health. A New Song.  
COme away Boys, let's drink it  
As soon as we think it,  
Set it round, set it round,  
Come let it round pass,  
Fill each man his Glass,  
To the brim, to the brim,  
To the King let it go,  
And to the Duke also,  
Till our Wits they abound.  
Come, come away with't,  
Let none delay it,  
Till in Nectar we swim.   

The Shepherd's Delight. A New Song.  

1.  
ALL day I wander o'er the Plains,  
My tender flocks to feed,  
And sport amongst my fellow Swains,  
Tuning a tender reed,  
To sing my Jenny's praises forth,  
And her rare Beauties tell.  
Who can comprise my harmless mirth,  
Which others Joys excel.   

2.  
I scorn the bravery of the Court,  
Where Tempests loudly rear,  
Those Cedars are to Winds a sport,  
Whilst shrubs they still pass o●re.  
●in my Cottage take more joy  
Than Kings in Princely pleasure:  
Is love and freedom all have I  
That Earth or Sea does treasure.    

The Author's advice to his Heroic friend, upon bis unmanning himself, by doting upon a disdainful Beauty.  
HAste, brave Amyntas, to the Chase, for see  
Diana's Boar is followed hastily:  
The loud mouthed Hounds follow the foaming Beast,  
Take, take thy ●avelin, meet his fiercest rage,  
'Tis far less dangerous than Love to engage.  
To pine for one that's scornful, proud, unkind,  
But meanly suits wi●h such a mighty mind,  
As in thy Breast, fierce Warrior, is confined.  
Thou that hast faced Jove's Thunder, when it roared  
On Lightning's Wings, and the vast Mountains gored.  
Waded in Blood through Mars' dismal field,  
To gather Laurels from the heaps you killed.  
Who in the midst of dangers looked so brave,  
As quelled thy foe's Courage, thy Soldiers gave  
Canst thou, canst thou brave England's Mars, canst thou  
Thy Glorious Plumes to nothing-woman bow?  
For shame rouse up, the World will laugh to see  
Her great Alcides humbly bend his knee,  
Weep, sigh and cringe to a detested thing,  
Inglorious Woman, whence his wo●s do spring.  
No, lift up thy Victorious Head, and shake  
Off these dull Chains; thy Captive Fetters break:  
Come, be thyself, and loud in thunder speak.  
War be thy Language, spread destruction round,  
And let thy Music be the Trumpets sound.   

To his innocent Mistress. A Poem.  
FAir, pretty Creature, who in tender years  
Wound'st many Hearts, and stir'st up tides of fears  
Yet ignorant art of thy too potent charms,  
Which equal are to Mars' Murdering Arms.  
For who can see such beauty in the bloom  
Fragrant with Virtues, that can ne'er consume,  
And not desire; though should they ask, 'twould be  
A strange request, they must explain to thee.  
How often has thy acquaint discourses won  
My serious thoughts to give attention  
To thy fine tales, spun out in threads of Gold,  
Such as Penelope her Lovers told.  
But yet my hopes are vain, the fruits too green,  
But will be ripened by Love's charming Queen:  
And then to taste it, if it be my Lot.  
My wishes shall be in their centre shut.   

A Catch.  
LEt Vulcan blow the bellows,  
Nay, let him sweat, swear and be jealous:  
With Venus all night I will lie,  
Though whimpering Cupid should cry,  
Yet at her I'll go,  
With so full a blow,  
As shall enter between each thigh.   

Upon the presentation of a Nosegay.  
MAdam, behold these fragrant flowers that crown  
Their limber stems, with leaves encircled round;  
Glorious at present, but in time will fade,  
And lose the lustre they some time have had:  
So youth a while will flourish, but times breath  
Will turned to age, and age will hasten death.  
Therefore, Divinest Mistress, whilst time lasts,  
●ake use of it, before your Beauty wastes:  
And when these flowers obtain a Licence free  
To kiss your Lips, then Dear, remember me,  
Who sigh and languish in a pleasing strain,  
Hoping one day I shall such favour gain  
As that Loves God will ease my linger pain.   

A Dialogue between a Page and his Lord's Daughter, under the names of Cleonel and Calista.  Cleonel. 
MAdam, the silent language of my Eyes have often spoke my strong desires, though my faltering tongue was unable, till your kind ●spect unloosened the Magic string, that in spite of my utmost power, hindered it from performing its office: But not to be tedious, the end of my motion, Madam, is Love—  Calista. 
Love— Saucy fellow, stand off, how dare you say this to me? Is it possible your presumption can soar so high; if it is, ' twe● 〈◊〉 your wings were clipped.  Cleonel. 
Ah Madam, pardon my rashness, impure not this boldness to me, but to all-conquering Love, that mighty Deity, whose all-commanding force 'tis not in the power of any mortal to resist: So fair, so virtuous, and so admirable a Creature should not be cruel to the humblest of her Slaves, whose Breast i● tortured with a restless fever, whose mouldering fires those bright Eyes have kindled. I know my distance, Divinest Lady, and therefore fall prostrate at your feet, humbly imploring you to pardon my presumption in that point, consider me only as a Lover, and cure those wounds you made.  Calista. 
Away, I'll hear no more: Hence from my sight, and as you tender being banished the family for ever, trouble me no more with this impertinence.  Cleonel. 
O, I'm thunderstruck: Your words, like Arrows pass quite through my Soul, and by the way ring lo●● Death's dismal knell— Hear no more— Yes, bright Star, you shall be obeyed. I will go, but 'tis to death! Death, death shall ease my troubled mind, and secure you in your command.  Calista. 
Stay, rash fool; to death for what?  Cleonel. 
To ease my misery, and put an end to all the tortures of my mind, for none but yourself and that grim King carry the Balsam that can cure my wounds.  Calista. 
I charge you live, and yet I charge you let me hear no more of Love.  Cleonel. 
You command impossibilities, if I live, you cannot be obeyed, and fain I would be obedient; therefore, thou wonder of thy Sex, if you will not vouch safe to pity me, yet envy me nor, by hindering me from sweet repose. To slumber in the Grave is better than to live in torment▪  Calista. 
Live and hope. (Exit.)  Cleonel. 
Hope! Blessed sound! The echo of some Angel's ●oice: Music exceeding all the World's sweet harmony. Ha', what is she gone? Bright Angel stay and cheer me with your lustre: Yet since you have been pleased to scatter Balsam, I'll be content to live a while, though on Chameleons far.  
Despair be gone, Hope gives me life, and I  
With Eagle flight am mounted to the Sky.  
He seldom wins, that fears for Love to die.   

Song.  
HAste, fair Daphne, haste away,  
Great Apollo here does stay.  
Great Apollo here does stay.  
The God, the God of Sacred Songs,  
To whom each sacred art belongs,  
To whom each sacred art belongs,  
Come away, come away,  
And we'll revel night and day.   

Song.  

1.  
IN Oceans of Pleasure,  
That mortals can't measure,  
We will swim for ever,  
And sorrow shall never  
Disturb our sweet rest:  
Let care still be flying,,  
We'll still be enjoying  
What shall make us blest.   

2.  
Vain fancies shan't fright us,  
Nor troubles incite us  
To leave off our loving,  
That still shall be moving  
With warm desire.  
For love it is charming,  
There's nought in it harming;  
So gentle is the fire.    

The Melancholy Virgin. A New Song.  

1.  
AH me, that ever I was born,  
To be thus tortured in my mind,  
To be thus left, thus left forlorn,  
Alas I can no comfort find:  
And yet I know no cause of pain,  
That should afflict me with such grief;  
To Rocks and Woods I still complain,  
But woe is me, have no relief.   

2.  
'Tis sure my former Cruelty,  
When I unmoved, so oft could hear,  
Whilst sighing Lovers sued to me,  
And languishing 'twixt hope and fear,  
Died at my feet, yet I would yield  
No saving Cordials to restore,  
Nor them from Death's Convulsions shield,  
Though they with tears did oft implore.   

3.  
Therefore the God of Love repays  
Me for my cruelty and scorn,  
And to my charge those Victims lays,  
That did my triumph late adorn.  
My mind ten thousand tortures seize,  
Strange visions still disturb my rest,  
And tell me I shall ne'er have ease,  
Till with a Marble Tomb I'm pressed.    

A Lady to her perfidious Lover.  
SIR, when I first saw your bewitching face,  
Reason to strange and strong desire gave place▪  
Rashly I loved, thinking you'd Love repay,  
Which when you vowed, your heart still went as●  
You smiled on me, and yet another loved,  
And when I thought you sure, perfidious proved.  
Therefore I banish you now from my Breast,  
No more I'll grieve, no more I'll break my rest,  
For thee Ingrateful, once beloved the best.  
My mind shall be as calm as Halcyon Seas,  
No storm of passion shall at all displease:  
No sorrow shall my peaceful Life disturb,  
Thy hate I'll scorn, and all my grief will curb.  
Cruel ungrate, could you but once suppose  
The brave disdain my Breast does now enclose,  
To scorn thy faithless, and the faithful love,  
'Twould you to either shame or anger move.  
I soon perceived your drift, that black design,  
My chaster Honour for to undermine.  
But, thank my Stars, in vain were all such wiles,  
With which perjured mankind maids beguile.  
See me no more Sir, as you'd shun your fate,  
But at a distance levelly all your hate:  
Whilst I forget I ever saw your face,  
And for your sake slight all of mortal race.   

The Welsh man's Adventure. A Song.  

1.  
Her was tell her a trick,  
And her was tell her a thing,  
Hur went could fortune to seek,  
Until her had like to swing.  
Cots plut, was see some Gold,  
And then her was think her rich,  
And with it her did make bold,  
For sadly her fingers did itch.   

2.  
But when her had cot it up,  
And with it was trudging away,  
Plut her was cry, stop, stop,  
And then her was forced to stay:  
Then was carry her to cr●te house,  
From thence before Lord Shudge,  
Where was burn her arm adzouse,  
And bid her home to trudge.    

Song.  

1.  
Heard by a River, close under a shade,  
Fair Celia and Strephon one evening were laid,  
The youth pleaded strong for the fruits of his Love,  
But Honour had won her his suit to reprove.  
●he cried, where's the lustre when Clouds shade the Sun,  
Or what's the brisk Nectar, the taste being gone.  
●●ongst flowers on the stalk, sweetest odours do dwell,  
But the Rose being gathered, it loses the smell.   

2.  
My dearest of Nymphs, the brisk Shepherd replied,  
If e'er you will argue, begin on Love's side.  
In matters of State let all reason be shown,  
But Love is a power will be ruled by his own.  
Nor need the coy Beauties be counted so rare,  
For scandal can't touch the chaste and the fair.  
So scarce are the Joys Love's Alembeck do fill,  
And Roses are sweetest, when brought to the Still.    

The merry Topers. A Song.  

1.  
TO Bacchus we drink,  
Come filled to the brink,  
Let a rummer go round whilst we're merry,  
Let Misers take care,  
We never will spare,  
But round let it go till we're weary,  
O 'tis brisk Wine  
That makes us divine,  
Then fill up a Bumper of Sherry.   

2.  
Round, round let it go,  
Above and below,  
Whilst Stars they the Skies do bespangle:  
The Moon she gives light,  
Whilst we pass the night,  
And scorn all such Sots as will wrangle.  
Here Will here's to you,  
Gra'mercy true blue,  
No care shall our thoughts now entangle.    

A Dialogue between a Country Justice and his Chambermaid.  Justice. 
BEtty, Is't not almost Suppertime?  Betty. 
Yes Sir, the Bell has just rung seven.  Justice. 
Well, then there's an hour good, eight is a seasonable time; but hark Betty, what haste are you in? Pray stay a little, nay you shall stay— Yes, and sit down by me; nay, nay, ye little baggage I am resolved to touse ye.  Betty. 
For Heaven's sake Sir, what mean you? Fie, fie Sir, oh, oh you hurt me: Nay Sir, pray Sir, be civil Sir, or I'll cry out; upon my Maidenhead, Sir, I will.  Justice. 
Ay, ay, thy Maidenhead, why faith ye little Rogue, that's the thing I'd be upon too.  Betty. 
Ay Sir, that I believe, but there's but one way to come at it.  Justice. 
All that I know very well, and that way I'll soon find if you'll let me but alone.  Betty. 
Nay Sir, but you mistake my meaning, my meaning is Virtuous, and you suppose otherwise.  Justice. 
A peascods on Virtue, don't talk of Virtue now, for that's a thing that this age has turned out of doors, but prithee seeing thou hast a meaning, let us have it.  Betty. 
Why Sir, the way to my Maidenhead must be through the fore-door of Matrimony.  Justice. 
Matrimony! Cunning baggage, will nothing less than three thousand a year purchase it then?  Betty. 
No Sir, no less than yourself and all your Estate can signify any thing as to that particular, and the bargain perhaps may be worth it; for though I shall bring no equal portion, yet you shall have all my Love, and be all my care, and I'll be as saving as you can wish.  Justice. 
Well thou art such a piece of temptation that I must purchase thee, let it be at what rate it will; and since I find thee Virtuous, here are twenty Broad pieces to provide you with necessaries, and let Thursday next be the day.  Betty. 
Yes Sir, and thank ye too ten thousand times! O how how I shall dream and long whilst Thursday comes. Pray Heaven Sir your mind don't alter.  Justice. 
No, ye pretty Rogue, by this kiss it shall not; but at this time I must to my Closet, in the mean while see things set in order.  Betty. 
Doubt not my diligence. Ha', three thousand pounds a year, and lie with my Master to boot: these are brave things. Well, now had I been an easy fool, and suffered him to have rifled my Warehouse beforehand, it would never have been; but I perhaps when my Belly had begun to wamble, had been packed off into some far Country with five or ten pound.  
Therefore young Lasses that advanced would be,  
Keep close your Legs till Hymen makes you free  
To act, and then you joyful days may see.   

An old Woman to her youthful Lover sends this Epistle.  
Sir,  
SInce your vows of Love, and serious protestations have grafted you into my good opinion, your neglect and disrespect towards me has been no small part of my grief; if you could not have fancied me, why did you use so many powerful arguments to rouse my dying embers of desire into a flame? Sure it is that my treasure might be sufficient to cover the imperfections of Nature, if any such your prying eyes have found, or if any thing else has been the cause of estranging you from my company, at least be so kind as let me know it, and if it cannot be removed to your satisfaction, I'll be content to undergo your scorn, and bear my sufferings with patience; therefore hoping that you'll still prove kind as at first, and perform your vo●● I rest  
Your perplexed friend, and admirer, M. I   

The Christmas ramble.  
IN Cold December, when sharp frosts invade  
The shivering World, Nature's decrepit made  
By Winter's Icy hands, all things seemed dead,  
Each Plant and Tree hung down its drooping head;  
Then through the streets as I was wand'ring late,  
A brisk young Lass there standing at a Gate  
Took pity of me, kindly called me in;  
Yet 'twas a place where ne'er before I'd been:  
No sooner entered was I, but a fire  
Raised by a World of roasting Apples higher,  
The first thing was that came unto my view:  
The next was brisk good nappy Ale, 'tis true.  
Then down I set me by my Mistress side  
In loving sort, and found she was a Bride,  
And yet a Virgin: for it was her hard fate  
To match with one that could not pass the Gate,  
No further than the Porch, and there in vain  
Fluttering, gave her just cause for to complain.  
Which when I knew, I pitied her hard case,  
And softly laid my cheek unto her face,  
When she with low whisper in my ear  
Told me she longed, she longed, ay for an heir,  
And to procure one she no Gold would spare.  
I liked the motion, absence gave me scope,  
And boldly to her Bell I fixed my Rope,  
And rung her such a Peal she well was pleased,  
And all her grievances were quickly eased,  
In such good sort, that Angels filled my purse,  
And then in loving wise we did discourse.  
After a long Carouse, the Cuckold's health  
Went freely round, who dreamt not of Love's stealth.  
But time still wasting, we at last must part,  
Although she left me with a bleeding heart.  
Begging I'd call whenever I came that way,  
To lend her Lambs-wool, and she'd Gold repay.   

Love's force. A Poem.  
WHen happy time in Eden first began,  
Heaven's choicest blessing was reserved for man,  
Glorious as Sunbeams from the Orient Skies,  
Virtue and Beauty did at once surprise;  
His dazzled Soul ten thousand blessings met  
●n one bright female, there before him set.  
Love conquered him who did the World command,  
On Love's firm Basis Crowns and Sceptres stand:  
Each haughty Monarch yields unto his power,  
His Deity all Mortals must adore.  
Bright Angels sing before th' Eternal Throne,  
His Songs unto the sacred Trine in One.  
Then he has power: Yes power beyond degree,  
To captivate us when we seem most free.  
Such strange Enchantments as do baffle art,  
●lake Monarches yield, and pierce the warrior's heart,  
Which none but those that feel them, can impart.   

The angry Lady to her unconstant Lover.  
Sir,  
KNow I loved you once, and prized you far above all mankind, but since you prove perfidious, I ●low you from me like a bubble to wander in the ●airy fancies of your own extravagant imagination: Can you suppose such an open affront and dishonour as you were pleased to put upon me, could rest long in obscurity; if you did, you were deceived, for I am still so conversant with fame that not the meanest of your actions can escape my knowledge: But take your admired Mistress, your Cloris into the Clouds, it shall never disturb the least motion of my mind, I will rest as calm as Halcyon Seas, the least breath of discontent shall not rouse my sleeping rage, for I protest by all that's good, were all the race of mankind extinct except yourself, and should you Lord it over the female World, I would not vouchsafe you a smile; nay, though you sue, and in the humblest wise fall prostrate at my feet, your sighs should only beat the empty air, not floods of tears should cause the least relenting in me, but I'd continue more obdurate than Adamant, that you might be fully sensible of the just resentments of a woman wronged in Love, who was all kindness, soft as infant nature in its bloom, till you by your perfidious deal moulded me into this harsh temper, out of which, as to yourself, never expect me to be recovered, but to rest  
Your implacable Enemy, A. D.   

An admonition to perjured Lovers.  
FAlse flattering men, who make it your chief pride  
Poor easy women's passions to deride,  
When you have got your ends, than you disdain,  
And triumph o'er them when they once complain:  
Though you have sworn you'd ever constant prove,  
And that you'd centre upon endless Love.  
How oft with lifted hands, exalted eyes,  
Have you sent Imprecations to the skies,  
To call down vengeance on your guilty head?  
Invoked loud thunder straight to strike you dead,  
If that your Hearts and Tongues did not agree?  
If what you vowed, should not observed be?  
Yet in that moment it was your intent  
For Perjury, excuses to invent.  
But know, though dull deceiving Poets feign  
Jove's bags unbottomed Lovers vows contain;  
That Great Jehove does note the mighty crime,  
And though delay does give repenting time;  
Yet home-charged vengeance will at last make known  
That the dire mischief will prove all your own,  
And with sad groans make you confess that sin,  
That now you scoff at, and dare glory in.   

The Parson's observation on the word Woman.  
A Parson preaching in a Pulpit late,  
The harsh word Woman chanced to repeat,  
And there he paused, as if he was struck dumb:  
But having that deep silence overcome,  
Alas, beloved, says he, the word's compound,  
Woman, Woman, O that dismal sound,  
It's very Echo does my bosom wound.  
I cannot tell, Beloved, what yours may be,  
But sure I am mine proves a woe to me.   

Directions to woo a Widow.  
YOu that in Love's great mystery are rude,  
And yet into his Sacred Courts intrude,  
This one advice hear, and observe it well,  
Love's business various is, few all can tell:  
Some Maids affect, some Widow's love to court;  
But if you with a Widow fain would sport,  
Come listen now, and I'll directions give,  
Such as myself once gladly did receive,  
And found them prosperous. If she's young and gay,  
Witty and Beauteous, as the Pride of May,  
Observe your seasons, come when she's undressed,  
Eye when she eyes you, like what she likes best;  
Be brisk and kiss her oft, swear that you love,  
Tell her you'll have no nay, and often move  
For her consent; tickle her, and feel her knees,  
Clap her soft cheeks; such roughness best will please▪  
Coach her abroad, and never let her rest  
Until that she has yielded your request.  
And yet beware you do no weakness show,  
No imperfection in you let her know:  
Widows still hate those that to court are slow.  
If she be old and rich, and you'd admire  
Her for her Wealth, or Wealth alone desire,  
Then be you saving, a good Husband seem,  
If you intent to gain her good esteem;  
Treat her not high, and yet genteely too.  
And when at any time you closely woo,  
And in your Breeches something stiff does prove,  
So place her hand that she may feel it move,  
'Tis a temptation that will gain her love:  
If't done't speed, then venture next at all;  
Though she resist, if you persist, she'll fall;  
And though she blames you, let you do the feat,  
Which if you once do as you should, complete,  
Her heart surrenders, all she has is yours,  
She ill your absence after that endures,  
Less cause of Jealousy her passion cures.   

The Scholar to his Mistress. A Complementing Letter.  
Fair Lady,  
DIvinest of your Sex, Nature's chief Masterpiece, and the World's greatest wonder, most accomplished of Virgins, and the only boast of the Creation, I have (though with all submission) dared to aspire to so high a pitch of Love as to have a passion for no less than yourself. How you will resent my boldness, I know not; but this I am assured of, I shall be racked with ten thousand doubts and fears till I can be certain whether you will receive my devotion with smiles or frowns; for as nothing can more exhilarate me than the former, so nothing can thunderstrike me like the latter. I am indeed as yet in my minority, and therefore you may object that I am not so capable of choosing now as when mature years shall better instruct me by improving my understanding. Assure yourself, Lady, if so happy a choice fall to my lot, I shall ever bless the wisdom of my youth, and think myself more happy than if I was heir of a King. Kind Lady, therefore in expectation of your Answer, I remain  
Yours both in Person and Estate. J. G.   

Song.  

HOw happy are Lovers  
Where Hymen discovers  
A Joy that is lasting, that never will fade!  
Where Hearts are united, and thoughts undivided,  
Love's Deity there the sweet union has made,  
There Envy and Jealousy shall be derided,  
And tributes of Blessing shall hourly be paid.   

2.  
Such Oceans of pleasure  
As Angels scarce measure,  
Shall banish all languishing thoughts and sad care,  
'Tis Heavenly in fancy twice more in fruition,  
For those that Love well do a Paradise share,  
Their portion is large, and they need no addition,  
But have blessings, have blessings, ten thousand to spare.   

3.  
Where charms are still growing,  
Thence bliss will be flowing,  
And all the choice blessings a Lover would have,  
A fancy so ample that nothing is greater,  
Nor can fond Mortals beyond it ought crave:  
What blessing, what blessing's like a charming creature,  
That with a glance can our passion enslave?    

A Recantation Letter.  
Lady,  
COuld you conceive how little I esteem your anger, you would not vex yourself so much, thereby to imagine you molest me. No, assure yourself I smile at your want of power, and laugh to see you torment yourself in vain. I once, it's true, permitted myself to be afflicted by your scorns and disdain; but perjured and inconstant Woman, your Ingratitude has cured those wounds your seeming Virtue made; I have broken the cords, and safely escaped the snare into which, if ever I again entangle myself, let me bea● the brand of folly and madness to the utmost moment of my life; no, your charms are so slight that they have not power to attract one gaze; or if they do, 'twill be but to admire how I could be so much overseen as to dote upon such imperfection of body, and worse of mind:  
And so, Madam, I continue (but no longer your Admirer) G. B.   

A Dialogue between a Scotch man and a Welshman, and of the adventure in their way to London.  Scotchman. 
IN good faith m●n well Ise o'ertake thee, whether away so fast?  Welshman. 
Hur was trafling to London Town, where her was to recese a crate ●eal of coods; if her was know what her was cot, let her take notice her was a Gentleman of Wales.  Scotchman. 
Wey marry that Ise well wots not, but Ise be glad of yeun company, for Ise gang to London Town auso with at least sum matter of twenty boadles in my wallet.  Welshman. 
Well, by S. Taffe, her is glad of her could company, and her likes her: So well does her mind h●r, that if her had her none Country, plu● her was give her a quart of Wiggan, with a crate deal of Cousepoby.  Scotchman. 
Ise thank yeun, by S. Tandrew Ise do with au nline heart; but pray what news, for Ise hear there's the Deal and au to do, Kirk and Covenant is in a woeful pickle if Ise be we informed.  Welshman. 
Plut was her talk of her Couffenant, pray what Countryman was her.  Scotchman. 
Ise a muckle Scot, Ise yeauned at Abberdene.  Welshman. 
Ay, was her so? Nay, than her was smoke her, her has swallowed the Coffenant her was warrant her, plut was show her a Welsh trick py and py— Well was coe into you house and spend her two Doits.  Scotchman. 
Then marry, Ise wone gang in good faith, for Ise well choke.  Welshman. 
But now 〈◊〉 ●ink on't, her has her none Cousin Live tree, 〈…〉 off, her name was Sha●● ap Shinki●● 〈…〉 corn, and was have a create Peartret before her ●oer, if her was leave her wallet, and tell her none Cousin was peak with her, her was sure her was prink a crate teale of sauce, so that was live merrily.  Scotchman. 
Good Faith say yeun so, then Ise gang, for Ice plaguy hungry. Here is mine wallet, pray yeun have yone care of my Boadles.  Welshman. 
Plut was her mistrust her.  Scotchman. 
Neo, neo, but Ise fear 'em may drop away.  Welshman. 
Was her gone, well her will be gone too; let her find her Cousin if her can; plut her will show her a trick for swallowing the Coffenant, and longing for sauce. Plut her  rich now, her has got a new stock. Far her well False loon, her can stay no longer.   

The Despairing Lover. A New Song.  

1.  
DArkness does now the World surround,  
And silence every where is found;  
Each Shepherd with his Shepherdess,  
Long dallying in Love's excess,  
Sleeps at last between her Breasts,  
And void of care, securely rests.   

2.  
The flocks they now do cease to stray,  
And only Stars keep on their way,  
And silent Ghosts who haunt the Tombs,  
And vanish with the dismal glooms,  
But I, poor I, with love possessed,  
Must languish, and can have no rest.   

3.  
What is it that I have not done?  
What sighs, what showers of tears, what moan  
Have I sent, have I shed and made?  
Yet still with scorn I am repaid.  
Since Virtue here no rest can have,  
I'll haste to slumber in the Grave.    

The Grievance of the Nation discovered.  

1.  
A Pox of disturbers, let us rout 'em,  
Too long they have pestered the Nation,  
And we should be happy without 'em;  
Then Honesty would have its station,  
And Loyalty once again flourish,  
The Kingdom will soon have a blessing,  
If Faction and Schism once perish,  
For Union will spread past expressing.   

2.  
Our Joys they will then be abounding,  
Fledged Victory will then come flying,  
With her Golden Trumpet loud sounding,  
Reviving our Courage that's dying;  
Whilst amongst ourselves we're divided  
By Canters that still seek our ruin,  
Are Jesuits, or Oats has belied it,  
That ever have sought our undoing.   

3.  
By setting, with specious pretences,  
The simple rude Rabble a madding,  
To pull down the Governments fences,  
That they may in rapine be trading;  
But thank our blessed Stars, they're detected,  
The mists they did blind us with, vanish,  
And now we have wisely rejected  
All Jesuits, Genevian and Spanish.    

The Invocation. A New Song.  

1.  
HAste, haste, thou powerful God of Love,  
Whilst in Mystic Dance  
We do advance  
To Venus' consecrated Grove,  
Beneath the Myrtle Bows  
To pay our Vows,  
And all our eager Joys to prove.   

2.  
Fan with thy Silver Wings the Air,  
And scatter Roses round,  
Whilst that I wound  
With thy loved shaft the charming fair,  
And let our transports be  
Felicity,  
Beyond what Mortals yet do share.    

The Fancy or Echo to Melancholy Love.  
AH my Love why stayedst thou so?  
Alas, because I did not know  
That you were here.  
How, not my Dear?  
No truly, had I known,  
Through fire I'd gone  
To find you here alone.  
Ah, pretty sweet,  
That we should meet,  
And no man see't.  
No man nor woman e'er shall see  
The love that is betwixt thee and me,  
As silent as the night we'll be.  
Come then, my Dear, let us lie down,  
When you shall all my wishes crown;  
Nay, my Corinda do not frown.  
Not I, my Love, you shall possess  
All that you now call happiness,  
And all that can a Lover bless.   

To the Morning.  
AUrora fair, whose Rosy cheeks adorn  
The opening Windows of the Eastern Skies,  
Whilst Hesperus bright gives lustre to the Mor●,  
Till Phoebus from the blushing Ocean rise:  
Thou seest the Lovers languish in Despair,  
Thou hearest their sighs when sadly they complain,  
Thou viewst the beauteous, the thrice happy fair,  
For which poor I, poor wretched I complain.  
And thou alone canst witness my sad grief,  
And tell the sorrows of my tortured mind.  
For her alas that will yield no relief,  
For her alas that is the most unkind.  
But witness Eastern Queen, you Sacred Dawn,  
That I will love her, though she cruel prove.  
Though from me she ten thousand sighs has drawn,  
Yet still I the hard hearted fair will love.   

Song.  

1.  
A Lovely pair, endued by Fate,  
With Wealth and Beauties whole Estate,  
At the sweetest game had been,  
You know, you know what I mean.  
You know, etc.   

2.  
For Kisses first these Lovers played,  
The pleasant sport provokes the Maid,  
To that height, she growing mad,  
Almost played for what she had,  
But the Maid was not so mad,  
But, etc.   

3.  
She'll ask her Father's leave, she swears,  
Then she'll play for what he dares.  
Leave is had, and to't they go,  
What I mean you know, you know.  
What I mean, etc.   

4.  
To deeper Play they now begin,  
The Youngman's happy Hand is in;  
And now they have staked all their joys,  
She's the loser, for she cries:  
She's the loser, etc.   

5.  
And now she wins, a tempting sight,  
Has won her Lap full of Delight;  
To deeper play she urges on,  
But alas! his stake's all gone:  
But alas! etc.   

6.  
And now she locks her Cabinet,  
But he will play another set;  
And now his hand is in again,  
You know, you know what I mean.  
You know, etc.    

Song.  

1.  
GOddess Minerva, Wise, austere,  
Sober, Valiant, Chaste, and Fair,  
We bring thee here  
A kind, a young, a lovely pair:  
Who beg thy leave to join their Hands  
In Chaste and Holy Marriage Bands.   

2.  
Oh let him be active Fire,  
Ever Burning in Desire:  
Ever free, ever free, ever free  
From any smoke of Jealousy;  
Let her be Water soft to all his touches,  
Ever Hot when he approaches:  
When he takes away his Eye,  
Ever froze with Chastity:  
When he takes, etc.   

3.  
Mild and humble let her flow,  
Ne'er let Tempest curb her Brow;  
Love possess her Tender Heart,  
And ne'er let Love and Beauty part.  
Love possess, etc.   

The Goddess great now join their hands,  
In Chaste and Holy Marriage-Bands.    

A Catch.  
COme Boys, fill us a Bumper,  
We'll make the Nations roar;  
She's grown sick of a Rumper,  
That sticks upon the old score:  
Pox of fanatics, rout 'em,  
They thirst for our Blood:  
We'll raise Taxes without 'em,  
And Drink for the Nations good.  
Fill the Pottles and Gallons,  
And bring the Hogshead in;  
We'll begin with a Tallen,  
A brimmer to the King.   

Song.  

1.  
JOy to the Bridegroom, fill the Skies,  
With pleasing sounds of welcome joys;  
Joy to the Bride, a lasting bliss,  
And every day may prove like this.   

2.  
You that enjoy the beauteous fair,  
Be true to Love, and eke take care;  
For that which plague's a Woman most,  
Is when her expectation's crossed.   

3.  
Never was Marriage Joys Divine,  
But when two does in one combine;  
He that proves false, himself does cheat,  
Like sick that taste, but cannot eat.   

4.  
What is a Maidenhead? O what?  
Of which weak fools so often prate?  
Oh 'tis a Virgin's pride and boast,  
That ne'er was found but when 'twas lost.    

Song.  
OH Love thou art a Treasure,  
Should Constancy remain;  
But for an hour of Pleasure,  
We feel an Age of pain;  
How eager is the Lover,  
But when his joys are over,  
Poor Women do discover,  
The Vows of Men are vain.   

Song.  

1.  
HAil to the Myrtle shades,  
All hail to the Nymphs of the Field,  
Kings will not here Invade,  
Though Virtue all Freedom yield:  
Beauty here opens her Arms,  
To soften the languishing mind,  
And Phillis Unlocks her Charms,  
Ah! Phillis so fair and Unkind.   

2.  
Phillis the Soul of Love,  
The joys of the Neighbouring Swain:  
Phillis that Crowns the Grove,  
And Phillis that gilds the Plain;  
Phillis that ne'er had the skill  
To paint, and to patch, and be fine,  
Yet Phillis has Eyes can Kill,  
Whom Nature has made Divine.   

3.  
Phillis whose Charming Tongue  
Makes labour and pain a delight;  
Phillis that makes the Day long,  
And shortens the livelong Night:  
Phillis whose lips like May,  
Still laugh at the sweets that they bring;  
Whilst love never knows decay,  
But thence flows Eternal Spring.    

The Muses Seasonable Advice to a hopeful couple upon their entering into the State of Matrimony.  
WHen Infant Nature had the World arrayed,  
And heavens Eternal Wisdom all had made,  
Earth flourished fragrant, and the gaudy skies,  
Spangled with shining fires, that fall and rise,  
As the Creator bid: the boundless main,  
Stored with bright Fish, Beasts sported on each plain,  
When lightly plumed through tracts of fluid air,  
The Fowl themselves on outstretched pinions bare,  
And all Creation smiled to be so fair;  
Then Nuptial Joys in Eden first began:  
heavens choicest blessing last reserved for man.  
The World's first Virgin did his Soul surprise,  
And artless Beauty wounded with her Eyes,  
Then Love was Nature, Art no room could find  
To discompose the motions of the mind,  
Then Jealousy, and all the puny cares,  
That now wrack Lovers with ten thousand fears,  
Were uncreated, all was Peace and Love,  
Their Souls in equal balances did move,  
And sympathised with the blessed Joys above,  
By springs of Nectar, in Ambrosial shade,  
The first dear pledge of Sacred rites was paid,  
And Nature's dictates were with Joy obeyed.  
Amidst ten thousand transports which the while  
Danced on soft kisses, glances, whispers, smiles:  
Nor was the World's sole Lord at all renowned,  
E'er he with such transcendent Joys was crowned.  
Then you that are their Offspring, imitate  
The World's first Parents in their happy State.  
Calm be your minds, smooth as the Halcyon Seas;  
Let Loves Eternal Monarch rule in peace.  
Let Winter storms ne'er lodge on either's brow,  
Banish suspicion, let pale envy bow:  
And all her hissing snakes for grief expire,  
Because they cannot quench Loves sacred fire,  
Nor by their thousand ways gain their desire.  
Be ever kind, give Love still larger room  
To plant new Joys that are as yet to come.  
Your hearts in concord now so firmly bind,  
That dire harsh discord may no entrance find.  
Stop all the passages but that to Love,  
Let your kindness still transparent prove,  
In that blessed path the brightest Angels move.  
So you of Heavenly Joys may taste on Earth,  
For all in Heaven is Love and Sacred Mirth:  
So may your numerous Offspring tell your praise,  
And high as Pyramids your virtues raise,  
I'th' Brass leaved Book of Fame which ne'er decays.   

The surprised Lover to his Mistress.  
FAir Mistress, ah! see sighs attend my Quil●;  
Silence and sighs are Love's Preludiums still,  
Ghost-like Love-wanderers, where its treasure lies,  
Speak would it fain, but anxious thoughts denies,  
And all it can, 's the language of the Eyes;  
Whilst through those Optics pointed Beauties find  
Swift passage soon into th' Eternal Mind,  
And there a thousand sleeping passions rouse,  
To all of which our better Genius bows;  
So whilst that in mystic ways I trod,  
Gazing about in Love's precarious Road:  
Struck by the Lightning of your Eyes from far,  
Soon found I all within was Civil War.  
The greater faculty strong lodged, long striven,  
But all at last bowed to Victorious Love,  
Who from the Conqu'rer now has won the field:  
And I who rarely did submissly yield,  
Finding, like India's Natives heretofore,  
I've strove to purchase Glass with Gems and Ore.  
But thank my better Stars, those hours are past,  
And I have found the Pearl of Pearl at last.   

The disappointed Lady's Letter to her Gallant.  

Sir,  
HAve I thus long maintained you upon the spoil of my Husband's Estate, fed you with delicates beyond Roman luxuries; and can you for all this prove Ingrateful? think you that I am ignorant of the cause of your neglect; no, I know the new Venus you adore, and (unless a speedy reformation be wrought in you) am resolved to prosecute you both with the utmost malice that a Woman's Inveteracy is capable of inventing, or that Despair and Jealousy can bring to light, though to the ruin of my own reputation, that so you may know what a wronged Lover provoked, is capable of doing; therefore as you tender your own fame, mine, and hers who detains you, and robs me of my right, keep firm to your first vows, and suffer me no longer to be neglected. This day, Sir, my Husband went out of Town, therefore about eight in the evening I expect you at my House, of which fail not, as you value your future quiet: And till then I rest  
Yours as you use me, A. ●.   

His Answer.  
Madam,  
CAn you believe that I wilfully neglect you 〈◊〉 the embraces of another; alas, that you should harbour so mean an opinion of your Servant wh● dotes upon you even to an ecstasy, and lives not be to breathe your name; how can I at any time thinks those many dear enjoyments that have passed between us, and not extend my desire wider in th● Field of Love, and oftener pant between those wa● hills of Snow, whose gentle rise would tempt Cynic to desire, and search for hidden treasur● promised by those silver Mounts. Madam, assur● yourself I am and ever will be the humblest of yo● Servants, now and at all times ready to obey yo● commands, did not the Tyrant Sickness hinder That, that was the only Mistress that charmed 〈◊〉 (by power you're insensible how great) from yo● which otherwise nothing could have done, but ● sooner can Natures shake off those hard Chains, b● I'll willingly commit myself to the Fetters of yo● more soft and gentle arms; and till then must entry you by all the ties of Love, and those transporti● Joys which have mutually possessed us, not to less your esteem of him who is  
More yours than his own. J. ●    

On Virtue.  
virtue's a lasting treasure, never fades,  
He's only wise that for that Jewel trades:  
'Tis that which renders Mortals still complete,  
'Tis that alone which does adorn the great;  
Gives lustre to the brightest Diadem,  
And is on Earth the only sparkling Gem.  
Virtue adorns green youth, and bending age,  
And baffles still the proudest Tyrants rage.  
It makes men humble, wise, complacent, just;  
And still secures us, when things are at worst.   

On a Happy Marriage. A Poem.  
HAil blessed pair, whom Love and Nature joins,  
Whilst they are brooding still on great designs,  
To make you happy, ever make you blest,  
Whilst nought but Peace and Joy shall fill your breast,  
And you shall be of all that's good possessed.  
In soft embraces, 'midst a thousand charms,  
Panting with pleasure in each others arms,  
Whilst Love, chaste Love, your joining bosoms warms.  
Boundless may those Joys be, and may they haste,  
Till Death unloose the knot 've tied so fast;  
Death, that grim Tyrant, that does all things blast.   

On his Mistress neat tiring her hair.  
BRight Beauty, on whose every part does rest  
A sight so lovely, that who loves you's blest:  
If but to gaze, much more such Joys to taste,  
And sip the Nectar from your fair lips pressed.  
But what amongst the rest to me seems rare,  
Is the neat tiring of your Golden hair,  
That not of Cupid, set for to ensnare  
All that behold you, thence Enchantments flow;  
Who comes Spectator, must a Lover go.  
Nay, such the force, that e'er he thence can part,  
He must be forced to leave behind his heart,  
Bleeding with wounds made in't by Cupid ●s Dart.  
Than since your power is such, you must be mild,  
And then you'll be the World's chief wonder styled.   

A Song.  

1.  
NOw, now the Fight's done,  
and the great God of War,  
Lies sleeping in shades,  
and unravels his care;  
Love laughs in his Rest,  
and the Soldier's Alarms,  
With Drums and with Trumpets,  
and struts in his Arms:  
He rides with his Lance,  
and the Bushes he bangs,  
And his brave Bloody Sword  
on the Willowtree hangs.   

2.  
Love smiles when she feels  
the sharp pains of his Dart,  
And he wings it to hit  
the great God on the Heart;  
Who leaves his Steel Bed,  
and his Bolsters of Brass,  
For Pillows of Roses,  
and Coaches of Grass:  
His Courser of Lightning  
is now grown so slow,  
That a Cupid on's Saddle  
sits bending his Bow.   

3.  
Love, Love, is the Cry,  
Love and Kisses go round,  
Whilst Phillis and Damon  
lie clasped on the ground:  
The Shepherd too soon  
does his pleasure destroy,  
'Tis Abortive she cries,  
and does Murder my Joy;  
But he rallies again  
by the force of her Charms,  
And Kisses, Embraces,  
and Dies in her Arms.    

Song.  

1.  
HEre's that will challenge all the Fair,  
Come buy my Nuts, Damsins,  
my Burgamy Pairs;  
Here's the Whore of Babylon,  
the Devil and the Pope,  
The Girl is just a going on the Rope:   

2.  
Here's Dives and Lazarus,  
and the World's Creation,  
Here's the Tall Dutch Woman,  
the like's not i'th' Nation.  
Here is the Booth where  
the High-Dutch Maid is,  
Here are Bears that Dance like any Ladies.   

3.  
Tat▪ that, tat, tat, tah,  
says the little Penny Trumpet;  
Here's Jacob Hall that does Jump it, Jump it.  
Sound Trumpet, sound, for Silver Spoon and Fork,  
Come here's your dainty Pig and Pork.    

Song.  

1.  
FOols to themselves do Riches prise,  
some Dazzling Greatness Blind;  
Beauty alone can Charm our Eyes,  
and Love delight our Mind.  
Beauty alone, etc.   

2.  
What is the use of Wealth or Power,  
by which we Men subdue,  
If not in order to gain more,  
and vanquish Women too.  
If not in order, etc.   

3.  
Beauty the Fame of all Delight,  
without love's life were vain,  
Th' ambitious Toil, the valiant Fight,  
for this, for this King's Reign:  
Th' ambitious Toil, etc.   

4.  
Who e'er in these place his Desires,  
goes right in Nature's way;  
All others are but Wand'ring Fires,  
which lead Mankind astray:  
All others are but, etc.    

Song.  

1.  
ADs-Zous my dear Joan,  
When I meet thee alone,  
'Tis then my design for to buss thee;  
By my Father's old Shoes,  
Or the Light of the Moon,  
I swear thou shalt not be Crusty.   

2.  
No, if I should touse thee,  
And lustily rouse thee,  
Nay, tho' I should clap thy black hole:  
For I tell thee Uds-sut,  
'Tis for love of thy Scut,  
Which resembles a Cat or a Coal.   

3.  
Which makes me design  
For to yoke myself thine,  
For I long for a smatch of the same;  
Oh! then let thy black Cat  
So bemumble my Rat,  
That we ne'er may Repent th' Old Game.    

Song.  

1.  
SOmnus thou God who easest cares,  
soft slumbers dwell upon thy brow:  
Brother to death, which nothing spares,  
but to his fatal shafts all bow:  
Haste, haste, and close my waking Eyes,  
let these tormenting thoughts no more  
My Languished Soul with fear surprise,  
but waft them to Oblivion's shore.   

2.  
Let no fond Visions terrify,  
nor whining Lovers Ghosts appear;  
Lest I again with Love comply,  
again to bow with cringing fear;  
Once more to be by Females crossed,  
Court base-born Beauties for disdain;  
And be in Love's dark Abyss lost,  
for those that let me suffer pain.    

Song.  

1.  
CAn Life be a Blessing,  
That's worth our possessing?  
Can Life be a blessing if Love were away?  
Ah no! though our Love all night keeps us waking,  
and though he torment us with cares all the day:  
Yet he sweetens, he sweetens, our pains in the taking  
there's an hour at the last, an hour to repay.   

2.  
In every possessing,  
So Heavenly a blessing,  
in every possessing the fruit of our pain:  
Poor Lovers forget long ages of anguish,  
whate'er they have suffered and done to obtain:  
'Tis a pleasure, a pleasure, to sigh and to languish,  
when we hope, when we hope to be happy again.   

3.  
For Love is a Blessing,  
That's worth our possessing,  
great Love is that Blessing for which we contend:  
Encircled in pleasures, to charms that are lasting,  
how happy are Lovers that mutually bend:  
Oh to manage, to manage, their loves without was●ing  
those Heavenly, Heavenly, moments to spend.    

Song.  

1.  
SO Ravishing fair, is the Nymph that I love,  
As spotless and Chaste as an Innocent Dove,  
Adorned with bright Virtues, and all that we prise,  
Which first made me yield to her conquering eyes:  
Such glorious perfections in a Mortal somet,  
May charm the high Jove, and his Juno defeat;  
Her Smiles are so powerful, they melt me like snow,  
And make the strong Tides of my passion o'erflow.   

2.  
But Oh! she proves cruel, for when I request,  
She turned away blushing, whilst silence expressed;  
That a Cloud of displeasure o'ercast her bright face,  
Which otherwise Angellike, Nature did Grace▪  
So she makes me despair, and lament my hard fate,  
Whilst a thousand fond fancies my thoughts do create.  
Oh! she stabs me with fears, when I think on the power,  
She has to destroy me, o'er whelmed in Love's tower.    

Song.  

1.  
WHither away my own Dick,  
And whither away so la●e?  
I'm going to see my Nelly,  
so we'll as I know the Gate:  
So we'll as I know the Gate,  
but better I ken the Gin;  
For let me come early or late,  
my Nelly will let me in.   

2.  
No sooner he was got in,  
a black-Pudding's by the Fire;  
Not one bit Dickey would Eat,  
till Nelly had done his desire:  
For Dickey he knew the way  
to open his Nelly's Ginn;  
And if he came early or late,  
his Nelly would let him in.   

3.  
Then Dickey he wooed his Nelly,  
and she did begin to smile;  
He stroked her over the Belly,  
and Nelly he did beguile:  
For Dickey was grown so cunning,  
to open his Nelly's Ginn,  
And when he came early or late,  
his Nelly would let him in.    

Song.  

1.  
SAwny was tall, and of Noble Race,  
and loved me better than any e'en;  
But now he ligs by another Lass,  
and Sawny will ne'er be my Love again:  
I gave him a fine Scotch Sark and Band,  
I gave him House, I gave him Land,  
I let him Angle in my Fish Pond;  
But Sawny will ne'er be my Love again.   

2.  
I robbed the Groves of all their store,  
and Nosegays made to give Sawny e'en;  
He kissed my breast, and fain would he more,  
geud faith I thought him a bonny e'en:  
He squeezed my Fingers, grasped my Knee,  
And carved my Name on each green Tree;  
He sighed and he languished to lig by me;  
Yet Sawny will ne'er be my Love again.   

3.  
My Bongrace and my Sunburned Face,  
he praised, and also my Russet Gown;  
But now he dotes on the Copper-Lace  
of some lewd Quean of London Town:  
He ganged and he gave her Curds and Cream,  
Whilst I poor soul sat sighing at h'eme,  
Ise ne'er joyed Sawny, but in a Dream;  
And Sawny will ne'er be my Love again.    

Song.  

1.  
SMiling Phillis has an Air,  
so engaging all men Love her;  
But her hidden Beauties are  
wonders I dare nor discover:  
So bewitching that in vain  
I endeavour to forget her;  
Still she brings me back again,  
And I daily Love her better.   

2.  
Beauty springs within her Eyes,  
and from thence is always flowing;  
Every minute doth surprise,  
with fresh Beauties still allowing:  
Were she but as kind as fair,  
never Earth had such a Creature;  
But I Dye with jealous Care,  
And I daily Love her better.    

Song.  

1.  
HOw Unhappy is my Fate,  
forced by Honours proud alarms;  
To storm Ambition does create,  
and leave Dorinda's softer Charms.  
Instead of Days and Nights of Love,  
lulled upon peaceful Beds of Down;  
Must through a Thousand dangers rove,  
and tho' I Conquer, be o'erthrown;  
For when Dorinda I must leave,  
For time hath nothing more to give.   

2.  
Pleasant Groves and parting Streams,  
made for Lovers kind Repose;  
Songs, and Kisses, and sweet Dreams:  
all these Blessings I must lose.  
When Drums and Trumpets Ring my Knell,  
and ev'ry footstep is my Grave;  
Then my Dorinda, then Farewell,  
and pity him, Love could not save.  
Tho' Fate opposed, his Heart was true,  
And dying, sighed, and thought of you.    

Song.  

1.  
MAn that gains a Married Treasure,  
Puts himself in Debt to Pleasure;  
And by sordid Repetition,  
Palls his Fancy in Fruition:  
Household cares will always be distracting,  
Women Mutinous and Exacting,  
More than Husbands can allow'um,  
Let them have their wills  
Abroad, in Bed, at Board,  
Or you undo them.   

2.  
Beauty's Empire like the Crescent,  
Should be Youthful, Airy, Pleasant;  
They that love but for enjoying,  
Feed their Lusts with Loves destroying:  
Virtue should be still admiring,  
Always constant and aspiring;  
When they lose their Native freedom,  
And their Beauties decoyed,  
Enjoyed, Destroyed,  
Fate ill does lead 'um.    

Song.  

1.  
BLush not Redder than the Morning,  
Though the Virgins give you warning;  
Sigh not at the chance befell you,  
Though they smile, and dare not tell you:  
Sigh not at the, etc.   

2.  
Maids like Turtles love the Cooing,  
Bill and murmur, in their Wooing:  
Thus like you they start and tremble,  
And their troubled joys dissemble.  
Thus like, etc.   

3.  
Grasp the pleasure while 'tis coming,  
Though your Beauties now a blooming;  
Lest old Time your joys do sever,  
Ah! ah! they part, they part for ever:  
Lest old time, etc.    

Song.  

1.  
THis Bumper to Bacchus we'll drink it all round,  
Whilst our cares in the streams of our pleasure are drowned,  
And our heads like the Glasses turn equally round.   

2.  
Damn the Ale and Tobacco, 'tis nothing but Wine  
Inspires a Man's Soul, and makes a Divine,  
It will Sacrifice us to fair Venus' shrine.   

3.  
Let Porters carouse in black Pisspots, whilst we  
Drink nought but the juice of the sacrificed Tree;  
To Bacchus and Venus we'll Votaries be.   

4.  
Let ev'ry Man stand with his Bottle and suck,  
Hang the Man that does sip, let him drink like a Duck  
And when we're all drunk, we will range like a Buck    

Song.  

1.  
STrife, hurry, and noise, that fills the lewd Town,  
sure at last 'tis time to give over;  
And in the calm shades of the Country alone,  
blessed quiet and ease to recover.   

2.  
Smiling hopes, idle fears, and restless desires,  
are the busy man's constant attendants;  
What he vainly pursues, the mind that retires,  
already is come to the end on't.    

Song.  
PHoebus God beloved by Men,  
At thy dawn every Beast is roused in his Den;  
At thy Setting all the Birds of thy absence complain,  
And we die, all dye, till the morning come again.  
Phoebus' God beloved by Men,  
Idol of the Eastern Kings,  
Awful as the God who flings  
His Thunders round, and Lightning wings;  
God of Songs and Orphean strings,  
Who to this Mortal Bosom brings  
All Harmonious Heavenly things,  
Thy drowsy Prophet to Revive,  
Ten thousand thousand Forms before him drive,  
With Horses and Chariots all, O Fire awake him,  
Convulsions and Furies and Prophecies shake him;  
Let him tell it in Groans, tho' he bend with the load,  
Tho' he burst with the weight of the terrible God.   

Song.  

1.  
HAil mighty Venus! at whose Shrine,  
To offer up, is my design,  
A Virgin's Rose, which blooming long,  
Has raised those wishes, Love made strong:  
And now I dare no longer stay,  
But must thy great Commands obey.   

2.  
Oh! see the Youth, whose conquering Charms,  
Have made me yield unto his Arms;  
He comes, he comes, I can no more,  
Yet in Love's Field must not give o'er:  
Methinks that glance shot from his Eyes,  
Confirmed my Soul Loves Sacrifice.   

3.  
Oh me! I Sigh, but all in vain,  
Till Loves strong Cordial ease my pain;  
Then gallant Youth make haste away,  
What means this slight Delay?  
That unregarded Sacred Fire,  
Upon Love's Altar must expire.   

4.  
Oh! now methinks I have him fast,  
And we transporting moment's waste;  
Methinks we in each other breathe  
Our mutual Souls, and so bequeath  
The mutual portions of fair Love,  
Yet Oh! methinks too weak they prove.    

Song.  

1.  
A Maid they say is an easy thing,  
and by Youngsters will quickly be led  
With fair pretences, as in a string;  
to play at Balls with her Maidenhead:  
Putting the Raiser in with her Hand,  
And when she has it within Command,  
Then by her Art conjure it to stand:  
And yet let it never suffer Pain.   

2.  
When she has ordered all things fit,  
and by her Liker contentment found;  
Twice in a place the Raiser she'll hit,  
catching the Balls at an equal Rebound:  
Puffing and Panting Fold on the Game,  
Till she has made her Play-mate tame,  
And worsted, hang down his Head for shame:  
And yet let it never suffer pain.   

3.  
Therefore let all Youngsters know,  
although it should be as they say;  
Yet they must yield when they charge us below,  
for Three to One we can hold 'em in Play  
Whilst our Courage active appears,  
We make them still to us in Arrears,  
Yet leave them nothing stiff but their Ears:  
Notwithstanding they dare not complain.    

Song.  

1.  
FArewel Ungrateful Traitor,  
farewel my perjured Swain;  
Let never Injured Creature,  
believe a Man again:  
The pleasure of possessing,  
Surpasses all expressing,  
But Joys too short a Blessing,  
and love too long a pain;  
But Joys too short, etc.   

2.  
'tis easy to Deceive us,  
in pity of your pain;  
But when we love, you leave us  
to Rail at you in vain:  
Before we have Descried it,  
There is no Bliss beside it;  
But she that once has tried it,  
will never love again:  
But she that, etc.   

3.  
The passion you pretended,  
was only to obtain,  
But when the Charm is ended,  
the Charmer you disdain:  
Your love than ours was easier,  
Till we have lost our Treasure;  
But Dying is a pleasure,  
when living is a pain:  
But Dying, etc.    

Song.  

1.  
AS on his Deathbed gasping Strephon lay,  
Strephon the wonder of the Plains,  
The noblest of th' Arcadian Swains,  
Strephon the noblest, wittiest, and the gay:  
With many a sigh and many a tear, he said,  
Remember me ye Shepherds when I'm dead.   

2.  
Ye trifling Glories of the World adieu,  
And vain applauses of the Age,  
For when we quit this Earthly Stage,  
Believe me Shepherds, for I tell you true:  
Those pleasures which from virtuous deeds we hav●  
Procure the sweetest slumbers in the Grave.   

3.  
Then since this fatal hour will surely come,  
Surely your Heads lie low as mine,  
Your bright Meridian Sun Decline,  
Beseech the mighty Pan to guide you home:  
If to Elysium you would Happy fly,  
Live not like Strephon, but like Strephon Dye.    

Song.  

1.  
WHy how now Rogue, what make you here?  
Woon you beware your penny for a flagon of beer?  
Good faith with all his heart, if I could but tell where.   

2.  
Ween you gang to yond Whether which hangs by the middle?  
So we'll Fuddle our Noses, and Drink to Old Sibyl,  
And saith we would Dance if we had but a Fiddle.   

3.  
Hoy Hostler, hoy Hostler, are you within?  
Odsflesh he is Drunk, which makes him so grim.  
You are welcome kind Sir, will you please to walk in.   

4.  
Come fill us a Flagon o'th' best in the House,  
And bring us some Bread, with a great deal of Souse,  
Or else for the Shot we'll not give you a Louse.   

5.  
Come Honest Rogue, and sit by the sire,  
A pox of the Devil, the Pope, and the Friar;  
To have settled Times is all we Desire.    

Song.  
THink not dear Love that I'll reveal  
Those hours of pleasure we two steal;  
Nor Eye shall see, nor yet the Sun,  
Descry what thee and I have done:  
Nor Ear shall hear of Love, but we  
As silent as the Night will be:  
The God of Love himself, whose Dart,  
Doth first wound mine, and then thine heart;  
Shall never know what we can tell,  
What sweets in stolen embraces dwell.   

Song.  

1.  
GReat Monmouths a Duke,  
so flushed with Renown;  
Tho' Fortune rebuke,  
he fears not her frown:  
His Conquering Laurels  
are green on his brow;  
Tho' Fate with him quarrels,  
his Vertue'll ne'er bow.   

2.  
Brave Conduct in Arms,  
and Glory in Field;  
Like Mars in alarms,  
his Sword he does wield.  
Brave causes attend him,  
where ever he goes;  
Victoria defends him,  
i'th' midst of his foes.   

3.  
So dreadful in War,  
a Prince of such Fame;  
That none can compare  
with his Victorious Name:  
Then let him for ever  
in happiness dwell;  
And may the Fates never,  
against him Rebel, etc.    

Song.  

1.  
LIve long the great Caesar, and long may he reign,  
His Throne let the Sword of bright Justice sustain;  
And Jehova protect with his powerful Arm,  
And guard him secure from all dangers and harm  
Of daz'ing Angels, let Legions surround,  
And let him with Conquests and glory be Crowned.   

2.  
Let Majesty shine with its sparkling Rays,  
On his Sacred Head let the flourishing Bays  
Of Triumph and Honour, for ever be green,  
And let his proud Foes in Confusion be seen  
To fly from his face: Let Rome no more date,  
To send forth her Agents, a Prince to ensnare.   

3.  
In whom all the Graces are jointly combined,  
Whom thou as a pattern, hast set to mankind;  
But let the vile Pope and his Jesuit Train,  
Be silenced in Darkness, whilst Caesar does Reign:  
Oh! let his proud Foes be consumed in their pride,  
Whilst under his Sceptre we safely abide.    

Song.  
Honour's a Toy,  
'tis Virtue is all,  
Without it, the other  
is nothing at all;  
Or at the most  
is wanderous small.  
Pleasure and treasure  
admit of a seizure,  
But Virtue to casualties  
is not at leisure.   

Song.  

1.  
TRiumphant Queen of Beauty,  
Ah you whose Lightning Eyes  
Make me express my Duty,  
That once did Love despise;  
No force had all its Charming,  
Fond Cupid I disdained,  
And smile to see him Arming,  
To make me feel Love's pain.   

2.  
But now alas your features  
Have Charmed me; Soul of Love,  
Excelling Mortal Creatures,  
O let some Pity move,  
To th' Conquered be not Cruel,  
Dart, Dart some kindly Rays;  
Let not my Heart be Fuel,  
That evermore must blaze.    

Song.  

1.  
COuld Man his wish obtain,  
How happy would he be?  
But wishes seldom gain,  
And hopes they are in vain,  
If fortunes disagree.  
Pity ye Powers of Love,  
Our Infelicity.   

2.  
Why should the Fates conspire,  
To frustrate my desire,  
Since Love's the gentle fire,  
That keeps the world alive;  
●ut me it puts to pain,  
My wishes are in vain,  
Nor promise any hopes to gain.    

Song.  

1.  
WHen gentle Slumber closed  
My long long-waking Eyes,  
And I on Down reposed,  
Methought ten thousand Joys  
Had wrapped my Soul; for than  
I did suppose my Love  
Fast in my arms had been,  
And I her Charms did prove.   

2.  
Transported with the thought,  
I fancied none so blest,  
But 'twas a shade I caught,  
And only air I pressed,  
Which waking, wounded more  
Than Mortal can express,  
And to the Stygian shore  
Fled all my happiness.    

Song.  

1.  
ALL hail to the Pleasures of Love,  
All hail to the amorous Charms,  
Where a chaste Passion does move,  
Th' embrace of each others soft arms,  
Where kisses do usher Love on,  
Soft Sighs and sweet Murmurs invite,  
Whilst panting they pause, and then soon  
Afresh they begin their delight.   

2.  
Then who'd not enjoy such a bliss,  
To pass away Winter's long shade,  
With Beauty, to Toy, Clip and Kiss,  
And on her soft bosom be laid,  
And like the kind Turtles be billing,  
To call on new pleasures apace,  
And striving to see who's most willing,  
Again and again to embrace.    

A Catch.  
TO the Wars, to the Wars,  
To get Honour and Fame,  
Let us banish all fears,  
To create us a Name,  
The grim Tyrant outface,  
And his Terrors despise,  
For by that we take place,  
Amongst Stars in the Skies.   

Song.  

1.  
ARise ye Winds from your rough Caves,  
And rouse, O rouse the swelling Waves,  
O drive my Love again to Shore,  
That I may see his Face once more;  
Who flies from me on the broad back  
Of the Salt Ocean, through the tract  
Of yielding Floods, whilst left alone.  
I sigh, and tell deaf Rocks my moan.   

2.  
Cruel, O cruel, how he swore,  
He me for ever would adore  
Next to the Powers Divine, but see  
Ye Powers of Love, men's treachery;  
Too easy my beliefs betrayed,  
And all my hopes just blooming, fade;  
Grief, grief come on, to thee I●ll wed,  
And on this Sea-bank make my bed.   

3.  
Come Sea-Nymphs from your Coral Caves,  
Arise blue Tritons from your Waves,  
Revenge my Death, O close my eyes,  
For wronged in Love, a Virgin dies,  
Witness the Fires that burn so bright,  
Witness the Tapers of the night;  
Witness the Spring and Groves she cried,  
And then she laid her down and died.    

Song.  
All how pleasant are the Charms of Love,  
Which like streams are always flowing!  
Ah how pleasant are the Charms of Love,  
Which like Streams are always flowing!  
So my Passions still a growing,  
Nothing but Celia's Eyes can move,  
So my Passion's still a growing,  
Perfect and Immortal as the Joys above.   

Song.  

1.  
ONe Moon-shiny Night, as I walked out late,  
I saw a pale Image, and sadly it sat,  
At first I did think it might be some sad Ghost,  
That lately had strayed from Elyziums' Coast;  
But I found my mistake, for alas 'twas not so,  
But a sad Female that once I did know,  
She bewailed her hard Fate, and loudly she cried,  
When I believed Man first, I wish I had died.   

2.  
For ah my Virginity that is no more,  
Too easy I credited all that he swore,  
But when he'd undone me, and got his desire,  
Oh then 'twas he Fled, and no more did admire.  
Therefore ye Young Damsels, who bloom in y●●  
Prime,  
Beware how false Man in your thoughts too high clim●  
Who dares to Invoke the bright Powers all above,  
To Witness his Constancy, Passion and Love,   

3.  
How to us Devotion for ever he'll pay,  
When as he our Honour's designs to betray,  
Which being once done Oh no more he proves kind,  
But leaves us, and seeks a new Object to find.  
When we lament may our unhappy State,  
But than it avails not, for oh 'tis too late,  
What's done can't be undone, then prove not too k●●  
But take my Advice, for I speak as I find.    

Song.  

1.  
HA' now I am Married, let others take care,  
I've one to provide for me, and I'll not spare;  
I'll take me a Coach, and away to Hyde-park,  
There I'll be Courted by every spark:  
There's none shall go finer whilst that it does hold,  
My Gown shall be Tissue, all spangled with Gold.   

2.  
My Jewels and Rings, and whatever beside,  
I will have, that may but conduce to my Pride;  
If Husband dare grumble, I'll graft such a Crest,  
As it shall soon make him be known from the rest,  
Whilst I with fine Gallants do take my delight,  
We'll Revel all day, and we'll sport it all Night.    

Song.  

1.  
BY Yea and Nay, now I am moved,  
Come Rachel come, you must be proved;  
The Inward Man has plainly said,  
When Satan's up, he must be laid,  
And now I say to thee he's stiff,  
Prepare thy Vessel with the Cliff;  
Yea, Buffet him till he is down,  
By Yea and Nay you must not frown.   

2.  
The Wicked shall not see it done:  
Nay, now the Raging sit comes on,  
The outward man does strongly rise,  
O hold him fast between thy Thighs,  
Nay, till he's Tame, let him not go,  
Although he struggle never so.  
So, so, 'tis done, and now I say,  
God's Lambs together thus may play.    

Song.  

1.  
AS through the Woods I roved,  
A Nymph there Naked lay,  
Whose Charms so powerful proved,  
That they enforced my stay:  
Diana sure said I  
Does sweetly here repose,  
The Goddess of the Sky,  
Who her pale Mantle throws.   

2.  
Over the Darkest shades,  
Pardon bright form I cried,  
For Love my heart Invades,  
And to her than I hied;  
No longer could I hold,  
But clasped her in my Arms,  
Who struggling in that Fold,  
Produced a thousand Charms.    

Song.  
Pours on high,  
From the Sky,  
Cast an Eye,  
And espy  
The Flames that do Consume my Soul;  
Tyrant Love  
He does move,  
And does prove,  
Fierce as Jove,  
Whose flaming Thunders shake the Pole;  
Cruel fair  
Cause of care,  
Beauteous snare,  
O yet hear,  
And do not all my Joys control.   

Song.  

1.  
Jug what zaist thou, shall we be married?  
For in good troth we's long have tarried:  
Oh at thy Lips Jugg to have a smack  
Is not all, thou hast something that's black,  
That better will please me, for I long  
To have a Buckle fit for my Thong;  
Then say Jugg, say Jugg, shall it be so?  
And Ise unto the Parson will go.   

2.  
O kind Hodge, I fear you do but jest;  
But if in Earnest, I think it best  
That you my Grannums good will do get,  
And then we soon will forwards set;  
For why you know, she's a good old Trot,  
And may give us the Devil knows what;  
As for Flittermilk and Whey, I am sure  
We shall not want whilst she has store.   

3.  
By my Father's clouted Shoes thou'rt right,  
And I'll unto the old Jade this night,  
And then Jugg to morrow for the sport,  
When Ice shall use thee in muckle sort,  
Buss thee and hug thee till thou dost sweat,  
When in thy smock I once do thee get;  
O the fancy does make my Chaps water,  
To think when married what will come after.    

Song.  

1.  
HArk how the loud Trumpets they shrilly do sound,  
And Drums they do Rattle, whilst Echoes rebound,  
The fierce Prancing Steeds, whose Nostrils breathe● flame,  
Stand champing their Bits, whilst that Eagle winged ●ame,  
Spurs on the brave Warrior, Death's fears to deride,  
And where Battle rages, in Arms to abide.   

2.  
Whilst Leaden Thunderbolts sing round his Head,  
And the Crimson Fields are bestrowed with the Dead  
The clashing bright Swords, and the shaking of Spears  
Are the best music that sounds in his Ears;  
Such is brave Monmouth, the dread of whose Name  
Made Monsieur to tremble, Scotoh Rebels did tame.    

A Catch.  
WHen Jove to fair Danae in showers of Gold,  
Made first his Addresses in the Brazen hold,  
The Virgin she blushed and admired, till at last  
The glittering Ore in a trance had her cast,  
And then he Embraced her, for scarce is it said,  
That any holds out, when such Batteries are made;  
Brisk Lasses ofttimes to an Incubus wed,  
If he but with Gold, and with Silver be sped.   

Song.  

1.  
TOrture me no more you pangs of Love,  
I'll not endure your Cruelties:  
Alas that Virtue it should prove,  
Of force too weak for Woman's Eyes;  
That the keen glances those Orbs send,  
Should through our Souls a passage gain,  
That man his thoughts should solely bend,  
To seek for that which causes pain.   

2.  
Indulgent folly, hence away,  
Beauties bright Beams I will rebate,  
Its Charms no more shall me betray,  
Nor will I court my rigid Fate;  
Love's God, your Shafts keep in your Quiver,  
For Virtue shall their force repel:  
I once have Loved, but more will never,  
Never such languid Torments feel.    

Song.  

1.  
TWa bonny Lads were Sawny and Jockey,  
But Jockey was Loed, and Sawny unlucky;  
Yet Sawny was tall, well favoured and witty,  
But Ise in my heart thought Jockey more pretty:  
For when he viewed me, sued me, wooed me,  
Never was Lad so like to undo me:  
Fie I cried, and almost died,  
Lest Jockey would gang and come no mere to me.   

2.  
Jockey would love, but he would not Marry,  
And I was afraid that I should miscarry;  
For his cunning Tongue with Wit was so gilded,  
That I had a dread my heart would a yielded:  
Daily he pressed me, blest me, kissed me,  
Lost was the hour methought when he missed me:  
Crying, denying, and sighing I wooed him,  
And much ado I had to get from him.   

3.  
But unlucky Fate robbed me of my Jewel,  
For Sawny would make him fight in a Duel;  
Then down in a Dale with Cyprus surrounded,  
Oh! there in my sight poor Jockey was wounded:  
But when he thrilled him, felled him, killed him,  
Who can express my grief that beheld him?  
Raging, I tore my hair to bind him,  
And vowed and swore I'd ne●r stay behind him.    

Song.  

1.  
AH! Jenny Gin, your Eyn do kill,  
you'll let me tell my pain;  
Geud Faith Ise loved against my will,  
but would not break my Chain:  
I ●ance was called a bonny Lad,  
till that fair face of yours,  
Betrayed the freedom once I had,  
and all my blither hours.   

2.  
And now, weys me, like Winter looks  
my faded showering cyn;  
And on the banks of shadowing brooks,  
I pass the tedious time:  
Ise call the streams that glide soft on,  
to witness if they see  
On all the banks they glide along,  
so true a Swain as me.   

3.  
No, none could e'er so faithful prove,  
no love can mine exceed;  
Yet in this Maze Ise still must move,  
where hopes are all my feed:  
Then Jenny turn thy eyes on me,  
O turn thy blushing Face;  
Let Jockey now some comfort spee,  
or else he dees apace.   

4.  
My Flocks they all neglected are,  
and stray in yonder Grove;  
Whilst here Ise court my pretty fair,  
and fain would have her love:  
Then Prithee Jenny be not coy,  
for a more constant Swain,  
Never did bonny Lass enjoy,  
upon this flowery Plain.    

The Farewell.  
Lover's farewell, our pastime's at an end,  
Speak as you find, yet flatter not your friend.  
The pleasure's yours, the trouble once was mine,  
But were it ten times more, could I refine  
Love's mighty business, that no Critics Eye,  
Though Eaglesighted, could a fault espy;  
Ladies, I'd do't, and lay it at your feet,  
And only beg that it one smile might meet.  
That, that should recompense for all my pain,  
That should be all that I would hope to gain.  
FINIS.