THE Usurer's Daughters Reply, OR, FLOROMELLAS' Answer to PHAON.  
To a Pleasant New Playhouse Tune.  
 

NOw young tempting Phaon you shall have your prey,  
Floramella does your mind fulfil,  
And though Gold could never force me to obey,  
freely I content unto your will:  
Were my Beauty under twenty Locks kept fast,  
Love should Pick them, and break through at last.   

While Dads find us missing, Kissing we will lie,  
Let them keep in Bondage Baggs on high,  
My Gentle Charming Phaon minutes shall not die,  
Money shall not part my Love and I.   

II.  
Love's sweet gentle Spring shall always fresh remain,  
and our Lips redouble Blows of ease,  
Phaon ne'er shall find from me a dull disdain,  
for I'll teach how Maids shall men appease:  
Love on Downie Pillows ev'ry night shall rest  
Upon Floramellas' Tender Breast.   

While Old, etc.   

III.  
There's no Man so dull but has for us desire,  
and with Blushing-Virgins would be bold,  
Oft attempting for to raise a wanton Fire,  
when they find us like the Winter Cold:  
And though Maidens hearts are like Unpolisht-steel.  
By men's art and Labour, smother feel.   

While Old, etc.   

IV.  
Beauty was Created for the Lover's aid,  
else a Lovely Image does but prove,  
And no Liveless Statue, but a Lively Maid,  
the young brisk and bonny wantoness Love:  
Though Pygmalion's Mistress made of Stone & Art,  
Once did Captivate her Maker's heart.   

While Old, etc.   

V.  
Phaon shall lie safe in Floramellas' arms,  
and possess that Bliss that Gods admire,  
Circled in a thousand gay and pleasing Charms,  
that in Hermits might create a Fire:  
As fair Venus with Adonis used to toy,  
When she once did Court that Beauteous Boy.   

While Dads, etc.   

VI  
A long lasting Night to us will seem but short,  
for the lightfoot hours post away,  
Fly away too soon, whilst Lovers make their Court,  
thus the Madcap Night brings on the day:  
And the day would soon reveal our sweet Delight,  
But the Stars will tell no Tales by night.   

While Dads, etc.   

VII.  
Thus thy Floramella on her Phaons' Cheek,  
all the sweet Delights of Love will taste,  
There for Cupid's Bow and arrows I will seek,  
and the winged Hours will not waste:  
All my Coyness shall be melted, and be gone,  
Like the Mountain Snow with midday Sun.   

While Dads find us missing, Kissing we will lie,  
Let them keep in Bondage Baggs on high,  
My gentle Charming Phaon minutes shall not die,  
Money shall not part my Love and I.   
FINIS.   

This may be Printed,  
R. L. S.   

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, in Pie-corner.