Bristol Drollery.  
POEMS AND SONGS.  
By M r. C.  
LONDON, Printed for Charles Allen, Bookseller in Bristol, 1674.   

Bristol Drollery.  
'TIs a strange Title this, stay, let us see,  
Poems and Songs, and Bristol Drollery:  
Why then does any there pretend to Wit?  
It must be like their Diamonds, Counterfeit:  
Does not the Author tell us flat and plain,  
Such a dull foggy Air does clog the brain?  
That there we strive at Poetry in vain.  
That to the Wits 'tis fatal, this does show  
Our Heads ache here, when but we would be so.  
This may be true, for aught I gather hence,  
The Author by this Book has no pretence  
To make us think he has more than common sense.  
Nor needed he to put his brains toth' wrack,  
For by the help of one poor pint of Sack  
One might outdo him, (if one had the knack)  
For what is there that can more easy prove,  
Then to tell Phillis plain, he dies for love.  
Thus much for's Sense, and then as to his Rhymes  
They're not so pleasant as your Christ-church Chymes;  
(When on your Tolsey up and down you go)  
Or noise of Guns, from Ships arrived below:  
Since 'tis a Maxim you've held all your lives,  
Dam ' Poetry, 'tis he has Wit that thrives.   

To the young Gallants, etc.  
HEre's a fresh Country Muse come up to Town,  
Which you on easy terms may make your own;  
Receive her kindly then, and hear her tale,  
She may divert you now your own are stale.  
For at first view it plainly will appear  
'Tis the first Balladry of the New year;  
Should a fresh Girl come up, could scarce speak sense,  
So she could do in figure, mood, and tense,  
I'll warrant her, she ne'er would be refused,  
Her two leaves would be opened, and perused;  
Well, Sin will leave you when y'are old and grey,  
You must divert you then some other way,  
Then will you sit and look as grave as they  
Who censure your behaviours, and the Play:  
Come, my dear hearts, be virtuous then betimes,  
Delight you in sweet Prose, and sweeter Rhymes:  
Your penance comes of drinking and high feeding,  
Head never aches so vilely after reading:  
It will Improve these ●ine white Periwigs,  
So full of crotchets and fantastic Jigs;  
I will take you off your window-breaking tricks,  
Nor let all mirth lie (buttoned) in your bricks.  
If Bristol Muse has ever a good jest,  
Pary let it be roared out amongst the rest:  
And though she has not learned yet the way,  
She may be next of kin to an ill Play.  
But if she finds—  
No favour 'mongst you slighting, jeering men,  
('Twixt her and I) I have advised her then,  
I humbly to cast herself on Madam Behn.  
Jan. 1673/4. N. C.   

To my Lord— at his Arrival in Bristol.  
WElcome to Town (my Lord) but yet I pray,  
For your own safety, that you would not stay,  
Wit, in this Country lives, it is well known,  
No longer than a Serpent in your own.  
That to the Wits 'tis fatal, this doth show,  
Our heads ache here, when but, we would be so,  
Such a dull foggy air does clog the brain,  
That here we strive at Poetry in vain:  
Then we have reason to implore your stay,  
Wits brightest Sun can clear these Mists away;  
For you who've taught the World to love and fight,  
By whose great pattern our best Poets write,  
And wisest Statesmen learn to steer aright;  
Can shine to us with a perpetual light.   

Solon's Laws of Love.  

I.  
WHo would a perfect Lover's Title gain,  
Must bind his Love in a mysterious chain,  
His flames under a cloud must wear  
Jealous, lest any trembling Air  
Should to the Vulgar ears his passion bear,  
This is Love's seasoning; for he  
Who would a curious Lover be,  
Fears less a Rival, than Discovery.   

II.  
The nicest Lover oft does find  
A happiness in his extreme;  
For Doubt and Caution make the mind  
Value what else had been a dream,  
The greatest goods have their esteem  
Not from themselves, but what we pay:  
We to our passions guide the way;  
And the great Deity of Love does live,  
Not by the wounds he makes, but by the leave we give.   

III.  
When all we wish crowns our desires,  
If Jealousy but gently move,  
'Tis like a Fan to blow those fires,  
And seems a kind Transport of Love.  
But let that Frenzy never gain the field,  
Nor by continuance grow so high  
That reason cannot force it yield,  
Or the least Oath make the Usurper fly.   

IV.  
Th' unfledged Gallant at his first sight does swear  
His love eternal course shall hold,  
Though tried Experience tells those Vows are Air,  
And that no hope can be more rash or bold.  
Happy the Lover whose kind star  
Thinks worthy of a gift so rare;  
But if its influence prove retrograde,  
Let not a sullen grief your breast invade:  
For Stars you will like Women find,  
Who are by humour false or kind,  
Without consulting the fond Lover's mind.   

V.  
That Lover whose desires unjustly tend,  
That only to his pleasures bend,  
'Tis fit should miss of his main end.  
But they are Stages in our way,  
And though they oft a heart betray,  
Are pretty Baits our Travels to allay.   

VI  
Sincerity in Love I much esteem  
As of all Laws the most supreme;  
Yet for their Interest oft the wise  
Must clothe the Truth in a disguise.  
I like a dainty Lover would know all,  
Yet like a man of Humane frailty, sure  
Would not my own disease procure;  
Nor headlong on disquiet fall,  
But rather Ignorance, then despair endure.    

On a Lady passing by in a Coach, etc.  
SO sits the Mother of the God of Love,  
In her bright Chariot drawn by her white Dove;  
As you, fair Nymph, if any such there be,  
For you were passed so soon I scarce could see;  
Yet at a venture, I have paid my duty,  
To (Madam,) your imaginary beauty.  
May you drive on, whilst I devoutly pray  
You meet no tumbling accidents i'th' way:  
May you ne'er fall but in a softer place,  
To be made pleasant by a sweet embrace;  
Whilst you partake part of those closer joys,  
Though not so private and so free from noise.   

A SONG.  

HOw pleasant it is to discover  
In the Mistress you love and adore,  
The coming regards of a Lover,  
She made you despair of before.   

At first with coy looks and disdain,  
She paid all your sighs and addresses;  
But now that she pities your pain,  
Her altered demeanour confesses.   

Then oh! what a Joy 'tis to find,  
At length that her pity improves,  
To a passion so true and so kind,  
As is next consummation of Loves.   

Whilst you ply her with warmer caresses,  
And close, as a Lover does use  
To fetter a Miss. in Embraces,  
Till she cannot tell how to refuse.    

SONG.  
Against Marriage.  

I.  
A Fig for the state they call Holy,  
Let Hymen now be degraded;  
For is't not a desperate folly,  
In a Journey for life to be jaded.   

II.  
For the lust of a night or two  
To be plagued with the cares for ever;  
Is like him that would hastily go  
Hang himself to be rid of a Fever.   

III.  
No more than I Roger take thee  
Pretty Susan, for better for worse.  
Nor shall the Priest ever tie me,  
That I cannot myself unloose.   

IV.  
Let some men, to people the world,  
With Children of doubtful begetting,  
Themselves into slavery hurl,  
And be Cuckolds without any letting.   

V.  
While for the convenience of life,  
Amongst all the pretty kind she's,  
Each Maid that I like, and each Wife,  
Shall be mine for as long as I please.    

SONG.  
AMyntas had Phillis fast locked in his arms,  
But Night from Amyntas hid Phillis' charms:  
He clipped, and he kissed, and he kissed her again,  
While she lay twinkling 'twixt pleasure and pain:  
But still between kissing Amyntas did say,  
Fair Philis, look up, and you'll turn Night to Day.  
But Phillis cried, oh! no, I cannot look on thee;  
Day will too soon appear, now fie upon thee,  
For Phillis her blushes was loath to discover,  
But for each kiss he gave her, she gave him another:  
Yet still between kissing Amyntas did say,  
Fair Phillis, look up, and you'll turn Night to Day.   

To Sylvia.  
SUrely the Moon is down from Heaven fled,  
And Circles her bright self about your head,  
Leaving Endymion, and her Sphere, to move  
About your Face, that Brighter Heaven of Love:  
Though you, Madam, would have it understood  
(In modesty) it is but your thin Hood,  
Full of black patches, and of yellow hue,  
So has dame Cynthia her black patches too.  
But, pardon me, if it deceive my sight,  
When such fair eyes, Madam, shall lend it light.   

SONG.  

HOw many are fond betrayed  
By Hymen's seeming glorious light,  
Until that they are Captives made,  
Like silly wand'ring Birds, by night.   

They take it for a splendid Sun,  
That cherishes with heat and light,  
Until at length they are undone,  
And so does every doting wight.   

Who with a Mistresses fair eyes,  
As with Sunbeams they dazzled are,  
Until the Priest in wedlock ties,  
And leads them to the shades of care.   

Thus the two treacherous Gods,  
Cupid and Hymen, deceive 'em,  
But 'tis on a Wager great odds,  
They'll have cause to repent that believe 'em.    

To Melissa, Concealing her Face, etc.  
MAdam, It was unkindly done to hide  
What was our wonder, and, may be, your pride;  
While we with veneration did look,  
You, from our eyes the glorious vision took:  
Fearing to share, such was your piety,  
In our Devotions to the Deity:  
Thus you prevented our Idolatry.  
Of else you conscious were, that our weak sight  
Might be struck blind, or hurt with too much light:  
And knowing well the power of your charms,  
Concealed your beauty, to prevent our harms:  
It must be so, alas! no man was there,  
On whom (for Love) to look, you might not dare.  
Securely you may look on whom you will,  
Love lurks no where but in your eyes, to kill.  
Not to our Sex, nor yours, one dart doth fall;  
You, and fair Amarillis have 'em all, etc.   

To Celia.  

THat I'm loved, bright Celia, by you,  
Is a bliss that I ne'er can believe;  
Since nought to my merit is due,  
That my Torment you e'er should relieve.   

My passion I dare not make known,  
For fear your disdain I should move,  
And rather than hazard your frown,  
I'm content to suspect that you love.   

Yet afford me still smiles and kind glances,  
Till boldly the courage I take,  
In love, to make further advances,  
And say, Celia, I die for your sake.    

To Phillis and Cloris.  
WHat shall I say of you, whom all admire?  
And that once spoke, I cannot raise you higher:  
By your Sex envied, and adored by men,  
Speaks your praise louder than a private pen:  
Then I'll accuse you, and that's easier far,  
Of Crimes great Beauties often guilty are:  
And this by consequence bespeaks you fair,  
You then Heart-robbers, and Heart-breakers are.  
You rob, and death ensues against your will,  
For not restoring, those you rob, you kill:  
Yet howsoe'er, this privilege you have,  
It is your virtue that you do not save:  
Thus do your beauteous Sex, Physician like,  
Destroy unquestioned, as they do the sick.  
Next, Lovely Tyrants, you in fetters tie  
A many prisoners, that for you sigh,  
And yet themselves excuse your cruelty.  
Wretches, who their own freedom disallow,  
They are your Captives 'cause they will be so.  
Bondage so sweet they feel, such pleasing pains,  
They loathe their liberty, and love their chains.  
Thus much is laid unto your beauty's fault,  
But in my Charge I now must make a halt;  
For whatsoever harms to men you do,  
Still you are virtuous, and guiltless too.  
Then since I needs must fall into your praise,  
Next, to your Wit, we do resign the Bays:  
Your Wit is such, who dare converse with you,  
Must, with their own, have all the Poets too:  
For though we yield to them at writing Plays,  
Some are as sharp, perhaps, at Repertees;  
And these advantages to you belong,  
Your Voice is Music, and your Prose is Song.  
Virtue, Wit, Beauty joined, there needs no more.  
To make you Deities, and we adore.  
Thus 'gainst your charms there can be no defence,  
You are prepared to ravish every sense:  
But there is one, with which, besides the rest,  
Only the Happy ' enjoyers shall be blest.   

SONG.  

I.  
UNhappy is he, who loves her that's above him,  
Whose Fortune is great, and perhaps she may love him:  
But his being mean, whilst his love runs so high,  
He sighs, and pines for that he ne'er can enjoy.   

II.  
If her friends are severe, and refuse to consent,  
They may make a close match on't, and after repent;  
For the pleasure being over that made 'em so willing,  
Small comfort's in Love, where there's never a shilling.   

III.  
Yet, Beauty inviting, we straight fall in love,  
Though a bitter-sweet Passion it ever does prove;  
With fits of fond hope we are often amused,  
But a juster despair tells us straight weare abused.   

IV.  
Yet still I'll love on, though it difficult prove,  
Since there is more Life, and more Glory in Love:  
For in meaner Intrigues, where with ease we enjoy,  
Our Love soon grows faint, and the pleasure does cloy.    

Overtaking a Stranger in the Street.  
MAdam, I saw you but behind, yet I  
Could not forbear to follow you and sigh.  
The wound you gave was sudden, and yet sweet,  
You (like the Parthians) slew in your retreat.  
Your shape and mien so charming did appear,  
Made me suspect you greater charms did wear.  
Your face was veiled, whilst yet within your hood,  
I fancied those too strong to be withstood:  
And that in pity of our weaker sight,  
You shadowed o'er your eyes too dazzling light.  
I was about to have myself addressed,  
And your new conquest unto you confessed:  
But being too mean a one for you to own,  
I, for my boldness, had deserved your frown.  
Thus I gave o'er, but to prevent a smart,  
Past cure of Herbs, and the Physician's art;  
Yet, Madam, I confess, you for an hour,  
Usurped the thoughts due to her I adore.  
Love, pardon my Inconstancy, and then,  
May my Saint hate me, if I err again.   

SONG.  

I.  
Hung her that has no Intrigue in her,  
To Kirk, or a Conventicle  
She trips like a pitiful sinner,  
And sighs, whilst her tears down trickle.   

II.  
A Playhouse she will not come near,  
For fear of a naughty man,  
Should whisper his love in her ear,  
And play with her mask, or fan.   

III.  
With the wicked, nor yet with his seed,  
With none but a Brother she'll do;  
Oh! this is a pure one indeed,  
With her I'll have nothing to do.   

IV.  
Give me her that is frolic and free,  
At a Play, or a Treat, well behaved;  
Can honest and confident be,  
No question but she shall be saved.    

To Phillis.  

MY Dearest, since my heart is thine,  
And thou didst thy own resign,  
Let no Jealous Eye, nor Ear,  
Keep us longer slaves to fear.   

We, not like common Lovers wooed,  
But at distance understood  
How our Passions first did rise,  
By the language of our Eyes.   

With amorous eager looks and sighs,  
And what else Lovers can devise;  
Long we did each other prove;  
But, Oh! the pains of silent Love.   

Others may meet, and talk, and kiss,  
The common happy road to bliss;  
While we afraid, lest some should spy,  
And take us in Love-felony.   

Then, Sweet, let us be bold and free,  
Our sufferings cannot greater be;  
And what if Friends do not consent?  
Despair's a greater punishment.   

True Lovers seldom are undone,  
But by their Cowardice alone.  
And did thy flame, as mine, burn bright,  
Those of Hell could not affright.   

Ah, Phillis, think how great a Joy  
'Twould, in each others Arms to lie,  
And talk of all our past devices,  
Breathing out our Souls in kisses.   

This, and a thousand Joys do move,  
Then, Phillis, let's complete our Love;  
But if thou wilt not venture, I  
Will make a sad retreat, and die.    

SONG.  

I.  
LOve and Desire provoke 'em to't,  
But Parents won't give way;  
Alas, poor Girls, they fain would do't,  
Nor can for Husbands stay.   

II.  
Nor for Conveniency nor Wealth  
Would they delay their time;  
'Tis better Marry then by stealth,  
Whilst Beauty's in its prime.   

III.  
Then let some wealthy Fop enjoy  
Your bed, whom Parents choose;  
To such you only should be coy,  
And only them refuse.   

IV.  
But unto him whom you love well,  
Though he no Jointure has;  
Give yourselves freely, let none sell,  
'Tis clear 'gainst Nature's Laws.   

V.  
And what if Friends do huff a while,  
Love covers all your failings,  
The storm once past, Fortune will smile,  
And they give o'er their rail.    

SONG.  

THen make good use of whilst you may,  
The little time you have to play:  
When eyes have lost their sparkling grace,  
And 'tshall be said you had a face;  
It is not patch, nor paint, nor dress,  
That can retrieve your prettiness.   

Youth and Native Beauty charms,  
〈…〉 lls with Joy a Lovers Arms.   

〈◊〉 a slip you then,  
〈…〉 are fair, be kind to men;  
〈◊〉 your Lovers kiss and court,  
〈◊〉 refuse the other sport:  
〈◊〉 you are old, there's none will do't,  
〈◊〉 you these favours prostitute.    

On some Ladies, enviously said to decay in Beauty.  
whoever shall say, that now their Beauty sades,  
And that they look like Mother of the Maids;  
To such we will be bold to give the lie,  
And yet allow their looks some gravity;  
The Rose full blown, though nearest to its fall,  
Then the young bud, less fair nor sweet, we call.  
Of Landlord Time, that Beauty lets, and set,  
They have a Lease of six or seven yet.  
Alas! too few, but yet I grieve to speak,  
How many hearts (ere it expires) they'll break.  
They've Charms to lengthen yet a bloody reign,  
Fatal to such shall suffer their disdain.  
Long have we felt the fury of their Eyes,  
At every glance they make a sacrifice;  
Who dares to look, and love, despairs and dies.  
Ah! may their darts ne'er with less vigour fly,  
The deaths which such eyes give, who would not die?   

SONG.  

I.  
FOr fair Amaryllis I often do sigh,  
And to see her I take delight;  
But when Phillis appears, oh! for her I could die;  
She alone fixes my wand'ring sight.   

II.  
A General Beauty Adorer I am,  
And ever it makes me to pine;  
But 'tis Phillis alone has kindled a flame,  
I cannot tell how to define.   

III.  
whate'er has been said by a Lover in pain,  
His passionate fits to discover;  
And more for her sake I endure, but in vain,  
For I dare not tell her I love her.   

IV.  
And yet the same Passion her tender heart warms,  
If I by her looks can divine;  
〈◊〉 that weare not happy in each others arms,  
〈◊〉 as little her fault as mine.    

Against Cupid, etc.  
AH! Sacrilegious boy, to murder where  
We offer up our Sacrifice and Prayer.  
I stood not there as at Diana's shrine,  
Blaspheming 'gainst thy Mother's power and thine:  
Nor yet so full of zeal, as to defy  
Thy darts, when such a fair as She was nigh:  
Had I been there petitioning great Jove,  
Thence to exclude the wanton God of Love:  
Then, with just rage, thou mightst have punished me,  
And I had not impeached thy Cruelty.  
Men for their Crimes unto the Church do fly,  
And there betimes make it their Sanctu'ary;  
Thou more profane, dost even there the fact,  
And in the Sacred place committest the Act.  
Thou tak'st thy stand in some fair lady's eye,  
And when thou'st slain, mak'st that thy Sanctu'ary.  
But 'tis thy crime that thou hast struck but one,  
A double Murder shall thy guilt atone.  
Reverse thy Arrows then, and pierce her heart,  
That she may feel her suffering Lover's smart.  
Do this, dear Love, and from a Foe I'll be  
The great'st Adorer of thy Deity.   

SONG.  
'TIs better be Miss. and Gallant, then be tied  
In Marriage, the dull way of Bridegroom and Bride.  
And, saith, my dear Miss, if you knew but your Lover,  
You'd resolve to enjoy him before any other.  
I swear by that dearest adoreable face,  
By each Heart-winning charm, and ravishing grace;  
If he pleased you not better, then hate him, dear Phillis,  
Then Amintas did Celia, or fair Amarillis.  
'Tis better, by stealth, to your pleasures make haste,  
Then slay year after year, for a Coxcomb at last.  
Thus Ladies (by fear, and their Fathers) are fooled,  
More than (had they but Wit, Love, and Courage) they would.   

On the death of Mrs. Sarah Friar.  
TO the fair Female Readers, this I write,  
A Beauty late, but now eclipsed in night.  
Sweet, young, and virtuous, as it may be you,  
Death sure, (like men) Covets such Misses too.  
A Horrid Ravisher, who e'er did 'scape,  
On whom he lusted to commit a Rape:  
When he does Court, the young and chaste must fall,  
In vain for aid, in vain for help they call.  
In shades of death, and silent grave she lies,  
Methinks your Tears drop now, I hear your sighs;  
Offerings that would enrich her shrine far more  
Than any Saints, whom the devout adore.  
Go pay 'em there, see how the willing air,  
Would said commix its breath with yours more rare;  
The greedy Earth would those rich showers receive  
With as great Joy, as you with sorrow give:  
From thence would spring, a wonder for to see,  
Myrtles for Lovers, and sad Cypress tree:  
There rest her body, whilst her Soul's fled higher,  
And thus your beauteous Convent lost a Friar.   

SONG.  

COme, let's drink the night away,  
Let the married sleep it out,  
(After a short minutes play  
At the Sport) we'll drink about.   

Fill the Glass up, when 'tis out,  
Those are pleasures are but vain,  
Whilst they empty at a bout  
What they cant recruit again▪   

Every minute we will sport us,  
And in no fond Amours burn,  
Let the Lasses woe and court us,  
ere we do them a good turn.   

Yet to make up our delight,  
we'll have Wine and Wenches too,  
At the one to pass a night,  
And sometimes give these their due.    

SONG.  

I.  
CLarinda's graces 'scape the sight  
Of th'unapprehensive Sot,  
Whose dulness hinders his delight,  
Whilst I extremely dote.   

II.  
But yet the Torments I endure,  
Do make me wish to be  
(Because she'll not afford the cure)  
As unconcerned as he   

III.  
Then to o'ercome her cold neglect,  
My Passion I'll remit;  
And what in others is defect,  
I'll strive to counterfeit.   

IV.  
I will not sigh, nor shed a tear,  
My heart I will retrieve;  
Yet though my flame does not appear,  
I'll keep it still alive.   

V.  
Thus will I seem indifferent,  
Uncaptived by her eyes;  
Until Clarinda shall relent,  
Like them, I will seem wise.    

March 5. 73. To Phillis.  
GIve o'er, my dear Phillis, to whisper and smile,  
You betray my poor heart, and undo me the while:  
Yet whilst I look on you, so sweet and so nice,  
For the pleasures I feel, I'd refuse Paradise.  
I die when I see you the length of a street,  
But oh! how you murder when nearer we meet.  
'Tis then that my heart to your bosom straight flies,  
To be safe from the darts shot so thick from your eyes:  
But then when I think on, and do but compare,  
Amyntas unhappy, and Phillis so fair;  
Oh! than my heart breaks, and I die with despair.  
Whilst thus I choose rather alone to complain,  
Then tell her I love, and am killed with disdain.   

The Shepherd's Complaint.  

WHen Cleon rested in the shade,  
His Crook and Scrip down by him laid,  
And all his Flock about him played;  
He knew no heat but of the day,  
But now he feels a fiercer ray.   

When Cleon folded up his sheep,  
Then on a grassy Turf could sleep,  
He had nor grief, nor cause to weep:  
He knew no dew but heavens store,  
But now his watery eyes make more.   

When Cleon tu●'d his Oaten reed,  
And had no care but's Lambs to feed,  
He was a happy Swain indeed.  
But since he has heard so sweet a noise,  
Which now poor Cleon's mirth destroys.  
〈◊〉 would you know the cause of's pain,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 eyes, and voices strain;  
Accompanied with her high disdain.    

SONG.  

PHilida had had lost her Swain,  
Phil●●a had lost her Swain;  
● not find him 'mongst the train  
Of all the jolly Shepherds:  
To the Wood she fled amain,  
Enquired him of the Blackbirds.   

〈…〉 then, yond. lies thy dear,  
On● sung then, yond. lies thy dear,  
And has got fair Sylvia there,  
Circled within his arms;  
Phillida then tore her hair,  
And vowed by all her charms:   

Once did gain Amintas love,  
Once did g●●… Amintas love;  
She a truer Swain would prove,  
And never more come near him:  
Still she swore by Gods above,  
That she would e'er forsake him.   

Then a bill of purest Gold,  
Then a bill of purest Gold,  
'Cause he Aminta's falsehood told,  
She give the little Blackbird;  
But at Amintas she did scold,  
The faithless, wanton shepherd.    

To Cloria.  

CLoria shut those murdering eyes,  
Where the blind God in ambush lies:  
They are the Suns do give him light,  
Direct the Boy to shoot aright.   

Rather than thus be made his prey,  
I, for a time, will know no day;  
But if thy Eyelids are not proof,  
I must then keep me far aloof.   

Already he has sent a dart,  
Has made me feel a grievous smart;  
Another shot may mortal prove,  
Without the balsam of thy Love.   

Then keep him close, and let him know  
No use of Quiver or of Bow;  
But if he will no Prisoner lie,  
Though 'mongst the glories of thy Eye;   

Perhaps he'll strive to come at me,  
And in revenge, he may wound thee:  
Then Cloria, if thou shed a tear,  
I●le bring my wound, and bathe it there.    

To Melissa.  
AH! how much power in beauty lies to kill,  
I saw, was wounded, and am bleeding still;  
Thus you're a murderer against your will.  
Let this your pity then, nor wonder move,  
'Tis no presumption to die for Love:  
Upon these terms no man can love too high,  
'Tis frce for any to despair, and die.  
He less endures that does conceal his pain,  
'Tis less to die than suffer your disdain.  
Thus what I would pretend to hide, I show,  
I name the thing, yet say you shall not know.  
But, sweet Melissa, pardon me, I rave,  
Love fits for Bedlam first, and then a Grave.   

Aminta's Complaint▪  
A Heart as mine in love so torn,  
Was ne'er by wretched Lover worn;  
When Fate decrees, Love must be dumb,  
Life's a continual Martyrdom;  
For all that yet lies in my power,  
Is in her sight to fit an hour;  
There to languish, pine, and sigh,  
Receive fresh wounds, and bleed, and die.  
Whilst all I have to ease my pain,  
Is but to think she loves again;  
If Phillis smile, and kindly glance,  
The pleasure puts me in a trance;  
But when again she seems to slight  
My sufferings, equal my delight;  
And this is poor Aminta's fare,  
A fit of Joy, and then Despair;  
Doubting still lest he should prove  
Her true Disdain, but seeming Love.   

SONG.  

IF Amintas and Phillis love well one another,  
What needs as much money of one side as tother.  
What difference 'twixt low and high,  
When Love can make equality?   

Let Parents than esteem their wealth,  
Whilst we enjoy our Amorous stealth;  
'Tis pity true Love should be lost,  
Since we can love upon free cost:  
And carry still about us treasure,  
Can furnish out a feast of pleasure.   

Let's meet in an Entry, or underground Cellar,  
Each place is a Palace, where Love's an Indweller,  
Then Phillis, let me you advise,  
Whom you shall choose with your own eyes,  
Though he at lowest Fortune lies:  
Let him not die your sacrifice.    

SONG.  

HOw blessed was I, when in the throng  
Of Mourners, I stood there among,  
So near to her whom I adore;  
And gently pressed her dearest arm,  
Whilst pleasure did my sense alarm.   

Eclypsed in grief, the Nymph there stood,  
Hiding her glories in her hood;  
For if she had her beams displayed,  
I should not then endured the sight,  
But had been blinded with the light.   

Yet I so many Charms saw,  
As to my Senses straight gave Law,  
While she her dearest eyes concealed,  
And Coward Love advantage took,  
For fear of killing with a look.   

Something she held in her dear hand,  
Love's dart I needs would understand,  
Which she in mourning ribbons trimmed;  
As 'twere for sorrow of the pain,  
Or death of him whom Love had slain.   

So cold I'm sure she felt my touch,  
Death could not give another such,  
Whilst bleeding there I stood,  
Almost as dead with wounds she gave,  
As he, that then was laid in grave.   

But straight the Funeral rites were done,  
My happiness as soon was gone,  
Another lead my Saint away,  
And left me there in vain to sigh,  
For such another touch I'd die.    

SONG.  

I.  
PHillis, since you can ne'er be mine,  
(Not that less kind I'll prove)  
I wish in him that shall be thine,  
All my extremes of Love.   

II.  
In what a rapture then of bliss  
Intranc'd, he then will lie,  
Breathing his Soul in every kiss,  
And every amorous Sigh.   

III.  
When on that sacred night of Love,  
Your Bodies shall unite;  
And every ravished sense shall prove  
The excesses of delight.   

IV.  
Think, Dearest, then on me forlorn,  
Waking, and thoughtful lying;  
Thus cruelly from Phillis torn,  
For Love and Sorrow dying.    

To Aminda and Melissa, A Fairing.  
JUst such a Fairing 'tis, as when they say,  
You are the Fairest I have seen to day;  
That I present, but not without much pain,  
The idle issue of a dam'd dull brain;  
So dull, it scarce can tell what to say next,  
Like some dull Parson when h'has named his Text:  
But to your Censure, Ladies, I submit,  
Besides, I fear the scand'alous name of Wit,  
Here, in a sober, serious, trading Town,  
Where nought's esteemed but Wealth, and a Furred Gown:  
All o'er I've been, yet nor at shop nor standing,  
Have I beheld one Face, as yours, commanding.  
No charms so powerful as those you wear,  
Are to be seen at every Country Fair;  
Rich Points there were, rich Gowns, and Coats with Lace,  
Here an Ill-featured, there, a Nut brown face:  
You I saw not, perhaps, you feared to be  
The death of every stranger that you see:  
The Town have felt the fury of your Eyes,  
And they would make the Country too their prize.  
What if no Husband yet falls to your lot?  
You as the Angels are, and marry not.  
It is your glory thus to lead your lives,  
While 'tis for vulgar Women to make Wives:  
For should I go about your Fame to raise,  
And speak of Virtue, Wit, and Eyes bright rays,  
Youth, Beauty, Wealth, (at the old rate of Praise;  
And whatsoever else makes fit Wives for Kings,  
You have, and are (sweet Ladies) all these things.   

To the same.  
NO wonder, Ladies, you for Husbands tarry,  
You are Divine, and Angels do not marry.  
Presuming nor to Love, nor Love implore,  
Instead of courting you, men fall t'adore;  
They dare not tempt you to the Joys of sense,  
Since your Divinity is your defence.  
The Goddess was not by the Youth enjoyed;  
Only for seeing her naked, was destroyed.  
Unsaint yourselves, and be but Flesh and Blood,  
And Men may venture on your Womanhood;  
For whilst in Glory (Goddess-like) you shine,  
You are not fit for sheets, but for a shrine.   

On Mr. F. Knight, Deceased.  
Virtue's thou hadst enough to boast,  
Pity, that they so soon were lost:  
No Vice, but what might well agree  
With one so gallant (Fitz) as thee:  
Great in thy air and address,  
Nor was thy Wit and Spirit less:  
Temper so generous and free,  
It were too mean a thing for thee  
To be enroled i'th' List of Fame,  
A Knight by Title, as by Name.   

A Mock-Poem on the Waters of the Hot Well, and other things thereabouts.  

I.  
ALL you that rise early to walk to the Well,  
Perhaps you ne'er heard what the Keeper can tell;  
Then since your kind Poet has made you a Song on't,  
Pray Ladies, take here the short and the long on't.   

II.  
When Coridon calls Amaryllis to rise,  
She stretches, and yawns, and she rubs her fair eyes,  
Then to mend her Complexion, as white as is Chalk,  
He takes her fair hand, and then hither they walk.   

III.  
He tells her his Love as along they do go,  
While she listens and smiles, as her Lover does woo;  
But there's nothing can cure her, her Love being ripe,  
Like that, that comes from a full running pipe.   

IV.  
Let Amyntas and Phillis as hotly pursue  
The Sport, to their Loves, and her Beauty is due;  
Yet let 'em be never so mad on delight,  
A Gallon will make 'em hold out until night.   

V.  
Young Thyrsis the Shepherd comes over the Ferry,  
To meet his Aminda, to Quaff and be merry,  
To kiss, and to court; but to make up the matter,  
There's more to be said than a cup of cold Water.   

VI  
He swears that her heart is as hard as the Rocks,  
To refuse the rich heir to so many flocks;  
Then drinks a full Glass to her health on his knee,  
And throws up his Cap; what a fellow is he?   

VII.  
If fair Amoretta and Sylvia come here,  
The Nymphs of the Wood and the Waters appear;  
They throng to pay homage unto their fair eyes,  
And give good morrows to their bright Deities.   

VIII.  
The Cit's that come here with their Wives every morn,  
('Tis a hint close enough) let 'em drink in a horn:  
Though ne'er so horn mad, it will keep 'em as sober,  
And their Wives chaste and cool, as a Morn in October.   

IX.  
A Wench that has lain with her Lover all night,  
To prevent any harm may ensue their delight;  
May get her up early, and hither but come,  
Then drink till she spews, and the business is done.  
Thou our Waters can cool all your warm Inclinations,  
And cure the mad Zealot that talks Revelations,  
Can give the green Girl in her cheeks a fine Red,  
And help to keep longer her loathed Maidenhead.   

XI.  
The Ancient and grave, the young, and the frolic,  
Are troubled with Diseases, the Stone and the Colic,  
The Pox, or the Gout, may instead of more Physic,  
Come drink of our Well, and be cured, or still be sick.   

XII.  
It ne'er yet had enemy that I can tell,  
But your Poets and Doctors, who damn it to Hell;  
And swear that he never was yet a good thinker,  
Or healthy, or wise, that is a water-drinker.   

XIII.  
Here Cupid the Archer does oft shoot at Rovers,  
Here's Stones for the Ladies, and Break-necks for Lovers;  
There Boats down below on the River do move,  
And herbs can make Medicines to cure or cause Love.   

XIV.  
The place not far distant, they call Giant's hole,  
Was Charon's, that ferries the poor Lover's soul;  
But since in these parts there's so few die for Love,  
(The fare he likes best) h'has since made his remove.   

XV.  
And for Virtues, you see, our Hot well does not lack,  
If to the well you come well, may be well you go back,  
〈…〉 after cup, till your bellies do crack,  
〈…〉 high bloods; but there's nought 〈…〉    

On a handsome Woman sitting in the Bar of a Tavern.  
SUre 'tis Love's Bar, that youth stands there,  
Is Bailiff errand to the Fair;  
And all the rest about her move,  
Attendants on the Queen of Love:  
Willing for a while to sport  
In jolly Bacchus' drunken Court:  
But who comes here, will surely prove  
Not half so drunk with Wine, as Love.   

The Beggars.  
NOw rattling comes my Lady's Coach,  
And all the Beggars they approach,  
To crave her Honour's Charity,  
Which is so great a rarity;  
But away drives she as swift as the wind,  
And leaves many a Pox and Plague take her behind.   

To a young Lady in a Garden, The Roses speech.  
FAirest, if you Roses seek,  
Take the nearest like your Cheek:  
ay, the Damask, would presume  
To tender you my sweet perfume:  
I am young, like you, a Bud,  
Peeping through my green hood;  
Blushing only 'cause I see  
Fresher Roses grow on thee.  
Crop me then, and let me lie  
In the Sunshine of thine eye,  
Till full blown, then let me grow  
In thy bosom, next thy Snow;  
That I may find, when my leaves fall,  
In that sweet place, a Funeral.  
Then Celia, be you like the Rose,  
Who its season wisely chose:  
Do not keep your Maiden Flower  
Beyond its time, its full ripe hour:  
Like the Rose, you need not offer,  
But when a worthy hand doth proffer,  
Refuse not, Celia, on my life,  
You'll wear as fresh when you're a Wife.  
Let not your Beauties untouched die,  
Or withered, and neglected lie;  
Rather let them thrive i'th' light  
Of his Amorous eager sight:  
That when at last they fall, and spread,  
It may be sweetly on his bed.   

On her Absence.  
SHe left the place, and sooner there  
Approached dull Winter than elsewhere.  
She but withdrew her influence,  
And chilling cold, did straight dispense  
O'er all the Earth, and every plant,  
Of her sad absence felt the want;  
When she returned, then as before,  
Their freshest Summer liv'ry wore;  
Thus absence, presence of her ray,  
Makes Summer Winter in a day.   

On Chloris.  

THe widowed Chloris to the Grove,  
would go to spy the Turtle Dove:  
How she constant mourning sat,  
For loss of her beloved mate.   

Behind a Willow stood the Fair,  
And did its loss with hers compare:  
All her Passions she renewed,  
And her fair cheeks with tears bedewed:   

Then all about the Bird would flee,  
Seeking her Mate on every tree:  
And as the Turtle grieved and loved,  
So with like Passions Chloris moved:   

When straight another Turtle flew,  
And the widowed Dove did woo;  
She soon agreed, they billed and kissed,  
And did the other seats, you wist.   

Her constancy did fabulous prove,  
Or Nature broke her Laws for Love:  
Chloris, same Fortune wished herself,  
Although it was a Love by stealth.   

Then forthwith from my Covert I,  
From whence all this I did espy,  
Came, and surprised the beauteous Dame,  
And offered her as pure a flame.   

Hereat she blushed, and blushing fled,  
But quickly after her I sped;  
Yet not so soon as Love got in,  
And her sweet consent did win.   

She dried her tears, she sweetly smiled,  
And all her sorrows were exiled;  
Then under that same happy tree,  
As did the Turtles, so did we.    

SONG.  

I.  
CAElia, in vain thou strivest by art,  
Thus to take in my invincible hea●●  
I ne'er was in Love, yet I love to do.  
And give dull Platonics leave for 〈…〉  
No Caelia, be sure I'll conquer thy 〈◊〉  
Then take me, and fold me  
Within thy soft arms.   

II.  
I ne'er will be caught by thy sparkling eye,  
Nor for thy dimples, in love will I fry;  
For any beauty, or singular grace,  
That can be found in thy Body or Face:  
No Caelia, be sure I'll vanquish those Charms,  
Then take me, and fold me  
Within thy soft arms.   

III.  
Slave-like, I will not be chained to an Oar,  
Still tossed on Love's Seas, and ne'er come to Shoar,  
Nor will I win pleasure by Love's cruel pain,  
Be but once free, and thine will be the gain.  
Then Celia, do not depend on thy Charms,  
But clip me, embrace me  
Within thy soft arms.    

Love's Stagg.  

I.  
IN Love I have been now a tedious hour,  
I would not be one more under his power;  
I harmless did gaze on her beauteous eyes,  
The God shot a dart, and made me his prize:  
O quickly draw it, I run, and I bleed,  
And on my poor heart the Vulture doth feed.   

II.  
See the fair Huntress pursues me apace,  
And her swift cruelties after me trace:  
But rather then longer endure her storms,  
I could trun head, and defend with my horns:  
Then quickly draw the dart, running I bleed,  
And on my poor heart the Vulture doth feed.   

III.  
My force it is spent, from thee, cruel Fair,  
To make my escape, I am in despair;  
Oh! now I faint, I faint, I fall, I die,  
And all are on me now with a full cry:  
Dearest, then pity me, salve up my wound,  
Thy bleeding Victim I lie on the ground.    

SONG.  

I.  
THe Sports on the green we'll leave to the Swains,  
The rise of their loves, and reward of their pains;  
At the Tavern we'll dine, then close up the day,  
At night, at a Mask, a Ball, or a Play.  
And when this is done, we'll laugh and lie down,  
And our Evening delights sweet slumbers shall crown.   

II.  
At the Pell we will play, or a race we will run,  
We'll sport with the racket, and when that is done,  
At Cribbage, at In, or at Hazard amain,  
From Tick or Baggamon we will not refrain:  
And when we have done, we'll laugh and lie down,  
And our passed delights sweet slumber shall crown.   

III.  
Then we'll away to the Gardens or Park,  
With Lures for the Ladies, instead of the Lark,  
With graces attractive, are fetched from Love's Mine,  
And his darts shall secure us the prey we design.  
And when we have done, we'll laugh and lie down,  
And dream of our Loves, enjoyment shall crown.   

IV.  
With the delicate Nymphs we'll toy and we'll kiss,  
So long till we find they will yield tother bliss;  
We'll tempt pretty Susan, and Margaret, and Jenny,  
For midnight access, with the bribe of a Guiney;  
And when we have done, we'll strip and lie down,  
And then with enjoyment our Loves we will crown.    

SONG.  

I.  
AT first sight of Beauty I passionate prove,  
And never can keep a mean in my Love,  
Cupid stands bend, and a dart he lets fly,  
That pierces my heart, soon as e'er I come nigh:  
Then oh, the pangs, oh, the pains I endure,  
If she prove not so kind as to cure.   

II.  
If when I address without coyness or state,  
She hears my Complaint, than I thank my kind Fate;  
But if I discover her love by a glance,  
A sigh, or a smile, than I boldly advance.  
But oh, the pangs, oh, the pains I endure,  
Lest she prove not so kind as to cure.   

III.  
Sometimes I fear lest she should not prove true,  
Or that she'll deny me the bliss I pursue.  
But if she dispels all my fears with a kiss,  
I am almost arrived at the height of my bliss,  
But oh, the pangs, oh, the pains I endure,  
Until she proves so kind as to cure.   

IV.  
Unhappy's the Lover that's plunged in despair,  
And wretched is he, and as great is his care;  
With the love of a Beauty that's cruel, diseased,  
But nothings so sweet as a flame that's appeased.  
Nor any Joys, any Blisses so pure,  
As when she applies the right cure.    

A Dialogue.  W. 
HOld, hold, Sir, you strike me so sore,  
Will you murder the vanquished, and never give o'er?  M. 
No (Cannibal-like) on the flesh I will feed,  
'Tis not mercy to pity, though thou dost bleed.  W. 
Help, help, now it comes, it comes down,  
You've tickled me so that I'm ready to swoon.  M. 
Fear not, there needs no recovering skill,  
'Tis a pleasant encounter that never does kill.  W. 
Oh, why then d' you rub me, d'ye shake me so, fie,  
Can't you let a poor woman die?   


PHillis the fairest of the train  
Of Lasses, loved by every Swain  
Of the Wood, and neighbouring Plain.   

The very name of Phillis is,  
Assoon as spoke, the Shepherd's bliss,  
And they all court her, hit or miss.   

When the Amorous Shepherds will is,  
To dance a round, then, hay for Phillis,  
And each one strives to dance with Phillis.   

When e'er they sing, or when they play,  
On Oaten pipe, a roundelay;  
'Tis to charm Phillis' cares away.   

When they are met at Colon's house,  
They toss the brimful Bowl and bowze:  
And healths to Phillis all carouse.   

If Phillis sheep are gone astray,  
Each willing shepherd runs his way,  
And does his utmost service pay.   

But Thyrsis is the happy Swain,  
'Tis said, will Phillis Love obtain,  
And all the rest but sue in vain.    


BRing us Wine, and Venice Glasses,  
Here are three of Venus' Lasses,  
Plump and tender as the Grapes are,  
And as Juicy, when they pressed are:  
Come fill 'em up, and let them pass,  
Healthing brimmers to each Lass:  
Such, whose faces far outshine  
The flowery top o'th' sparkling Wine.  
Now, thirsty, drink until we prove  
More thirsty for the sports of Love.  
Phoebus, no sooner set's in th' Sea,  
But we'll to bed as fast as he;  
And if (for aught we know) his Flame,  
He quenches with some watery Dame.  
Not that great Celestial Light,  
Then we, shall reap more free delight.    

SONG.  

ONe Evening to kiss,  
I walked with my Miss.  
And straight to a Grove we came;  
Where in the cool shade  
We sported and played,  
And eased us of our flame,  
But oh, then how her eyes did discover,  
The delight she received from her Lover.   

The Dew began to fall,  
And the Night-birds to call,  
So homewards went Chloris and I,  
To speak of our Joys,  
And such other toys,  
Would make your Love Passions run high:  
But oh, how her eyes her delight did discover,  
While I played the part of a hot-metled Lover.    

SONG.  

I.  
SAid Phillida,  
Said Phillida  
To Coridon, Let us be merry;  
Then Coridon,  
Then Coridon  
Said, Come let us over the Ferry.  
On th'other side  
I'll make thee my Bride,  
And then with the Bottle of Leather,  
With the neighbouring Swains  
We'll dance on the Plains,  
And fuddle, and frolic together.   

II.  
There I'll kiss thee,  
And then caper,  
While my blood does grow warmer and warmer:  
Then the Lasses shall sing us to Town a,  
We'll do t'other feat  
When thee and I meet,  
On a bed that's as soft as the down a.    

Solemnising shines not through all the year so bright,  
As my dear Julia did the other night.  
Cynthia came masked in an Eclipse to see  
What gave the world a greater light than she:  
But angry, soon she disappeared and fled,  
Into her Inner Rooms, and so to bed.  
I envied not Endymion's Joys that night,  
Far greater had I with her lustre-light.   

Venus and Bacchus.  
A Mock-Dialogue.  Ven. 
FIe on thee Bacchus, thou art drunk.  Bach. 
Thou liest, thou Celestial Punk,  
I am not so.  Ven. 
Thou wouldst not else have so abused my Deity.  Bach. 
What if I did Attempt thy tail,  
Disguised in Mars his Coat of mail?  Ven. 
A Mocking-sport for all the Gods,  Bach. 
Less than Vulcan's by much odds.  
Bowls of Nectar flow for thee,  
If thou wilt be but sweet on me.  Ven. 
But what if Vulcan know?  Bach. 
I'll drench his sooty, chimney soul in Wine.  Ven. 
If Mars discover, he'll not fail,  Bach. 
To lash thee with the Dragons Tayl.  Ven. 
Ah, ha, thou knowst it well.  Bach. 
As well as thou: My Juice can charm him fast asleep.  Ven. 
Thou art too strong by odds.  Bach. 
If so, let Wine and Love then conquer Gods.  Ven. 
Then whirl we both our Spheres together,  
And I will be, and I will be light as a feather;  
I'll kiss, embrace my loving Bunch,  
Ever be thy Hony-com-punch.   

SONG.  
The Fairies.  
COme my Jenny, pretty one,  
Thee and I will all alone,  
High to yonder Fairy ground,  
Where last night they tripped around:  
And (free from Mortal eyes) by stealth,  
There skip'd and danced each little Elf.  
There, on the grass we'll sport and play,  
And thou shalt prove as light as they.  
If Corydon and Phillis spy,  
Or any bold intruding eye;  
We'll pray transforming Gods above,  
That we (like those) may Fairies prove.  
And when we've changed shapes and hue,  
We'll haunt, and fright, and pinch them too.   

August 5. 1673. Phillis and Amintas. SONG.  

I.  
FAir Phillis in a Grove alone,  
Securely sat, and made her moan,  
Whilst her Amintas lay concealed,  
And heard the secret she revealed.  
And as she cried, oh! how I love;  
Echo replied still, I love.   

II.  
It was the love of her dear Swain  
Amintas, caused her thus complain:  
He who no sign of Love before  
e'er saw in her he did adore,  
But as she cried, I pine and die,  
Echo replied still, and I.   

III.  
〈◊〉 said she, would I might hear  
Amintas speak, like Echo there:  
Could I but hear that kind reply,  
From the sweet Youth, for whom I die:  
And then she cried, oh! how I love,  
Whilst Echo still replied, I love.   

IV.  
Amintas could no longer hold  
Himself obscured; in Love grew bold:  
And took such heart from what he heard,  
Unkindness nor repulse he feared:  
But unto Phillis ran amain,  
And swore he was her faithful Swain;  
And such kind words did Phillis move,  
She there took earnest of his Love.    

The Lover's Agony.  

I.  
COme blow keen blasts, and cool my Love,  
Beg ye that power of great Jove:  
And if you needs will know for why,  
Oh! 'tis for Amorett I die.   

II.  
My sighs make storms, I hear of late,  
They've shipwrecked Vessels of the State▪  
I cannot help't, oh! how I fry:  
For cruel Amoretta I die.   

III.  
Come, gentle South, send thy kind showers  
Down quickly from thy water bowers;  
May soaken through my parched soul,  
And may its scorching heat control.   

IV.  
My warmer sighs send so much rain,  
Does trickle down my cheeks amain;  
That very tears drop from my eyes,  
Raise high the Country's floods, and cries.   

V.  
I'd be no Enemy to th' State,  
Nor would procure the people's hate,  
Then, Phoebus, thaw her Soul, else I  
For frozen Amorett must die.    

SONG.  

WE are born, then cry  
We know not for why;  
And all our lives long  
Still but the same Song.   

Our lives are but short,  
We're made Fortunes sport,  
We spend them in care,  
In hunting the hare.   

In tossing the pot,  
In venturing our Lot  
At Dice, when we play  
To pass time away.   

We dress ourselves fine,  
At Noon we do dine,  
We walk then abroad,  
Or ride on the road:   

With women we dally,  
Retreat and rally,  
And then in the bed  
We lay down our head.   

And all this and more  
We do o'er and o'er,  
Till at last we all die,  
And in the cold grave lie.   

Then let us be merry,  
Send down to the Ferry  
A Bottle for him,  
Old Charon the grim,  
A Bribe for our stay,  
Till we must away.    

A Catch.  

DOwn below, down below, lies an old pipe,  
Filled with the Juice of the Grape so ripe,  
Hang business, and care, and Love's cruel dart,  
We'll lustily bang him before we do part:  
Here's my foot, set thine, and thine, my dear heart,  
Now, Drawer, here Boy, bring us each a Quart.   

Pipes, and Tobacco, the best of thy Spanish,  
We'll health it about, and the Vapour shall vanish,  
Shall vanish, shall vanish,  
We'll troll it about, and the vapour shall vanish.   

And when that is out, then bring us up more,  
Our thirst it is great, and Chink we have store,  
And when that is out, still bring us up more,  
When our money is spent, we'll drink on the score.    

The Good Fellow.  
A Catch.  
HE that won't drink, is a verier Sot,  
Then he that still tosseth, and emptieth the pot;  
He that drinks small, and will not drink strong,  
Let him ne'er be accounted among  
The Valiant, or Wise, but a mere puny,  
Or, which is worse, a saver of money.  
Then small Beer or Ale  
For the man that looks pale,  
But he's a friend of mine  
That drinks off his Wine;  
At his Cups will ne'er boggle,  
But drink till's eyes goggle,  
And stare and roar,  
And call still for more.   

SONG.  
COme Phillis, let's to yonder Grove,  
That I may tell thee how I love;  
And how I've suffered every day,  
Since thou hast stolen my heart away:  
How many nights I've lain awake,  
And sighed away, for Phillis' sake.  
This, Phillis, this shall be our talk,  
Whilst hand in hand we gently walk:  
Then down we'll sit in yonder shade,  
A myrtle has for Lovers made:  
And when I've called thee Duck and Dear,  
And wooed thee with a sigh or tear;  
If Love, or pity on thy Swain,  
Move Phillis heart to cure my pain;  
Then like two billing Turtles, we  
Will do what none but Love shall see.   

To Phillis.  
Wouldst thou know then why I woo thee,  
'Tis because I would undo thee;  
Yet hope 'twill not prevent my suit,  
When I have told thee how I'll do't:  
I mean not to impair thy ' state  
Nor will I e'er deserve thy hate;  
I will not injure thy bright name,  
Nor slain thy white and spotless fame;  
Nor will I raise in thee a flame,  
And leave thee burning in the same;  
But join with thee in chaste desire,  
And mix with thine as pure a fire;  
Till Hymen's sacred rites fast tie  
In one sure Gordian, Thee and I;  
This nought but death shall e'er untie,  
But there's another I would try  
T' undo, when we are both in bed,  
And Night shall hide thy blushes red,  
Then will I seek a certain knot  
(I will untie, I'll name it not;)  
Virgins let loose with pleasant pain,  
Wish undone, o'er and o'er again.   

SONG.  

I.  
WIth praise of my Beauty, and sighs he did woo,  
And hotly a while for my Love did pursue;  
But proud of my Conquest, and sure of my game,  
I slighted his Courtship, and laughed at his flame;  
Yet now I repent that I answered him no,  
Since from a kind Lover he's turned a Foe;  
But he's a mere Fop, and a Coxcomb at best,  
When a woman says no, will not take it in Jest.   

II.  
My eyes then were stars, and my cheeks he called Roses,  
But now they're debased, and my Nose but a Nose is:  
He praised every part, and extolled them above  
Those of Helena, or the Goddess of Love;  
But a pox on him now for a subtle false knave,  
To break the strong chains that held him my slave;  
I thought him in love when I bid him go hang,  
But he drives away care with a Fiddle and Song.   

Then each Lass I advise when her Lad would be kind,  
To let him all freedom and courtesy find:  
And i'faith the next that I catch in my gin,  
I'll be sure to hold him fast by the right pin.    

Death.  
THen welcome pale and ghostly spirit,  
Thou shalt us no more affright;  
Thy Skeleton shall scare no more,  
Then when 'twas clothed with flesh before:  
Within thy dark and silent Cells,  
We know nor pain nor pleasure dwells;  
No sorrow to be Prisoner there,  
Since we know not that we are;  
Nor shall we envy those above,  
That our earthly ceilings move;  
For lo, these lower rooms they must  
Descend at last, and sleep in Dust:  
These, till their utmost Course is run,  
May sing, then die, as we have done.  
And now to die, let's grieve no more,  
Then then we were not born before.   

A SONG.  

I.  
HOw sweet is Love when Beauty's kind!  
Beauty, that frees a Lover's mind  
From those tormenting cares and woe,  
The Cruel put their Lovers to.   

II.  
A Miss. to whom if you complain,  
She frowns not to augment your pain;  
But when you speak in Lover's stile,  
She comforts with kind look, or smile.   

III.  
Yet with her favours does not cloy,  
As not by rigour hope destroy;  
'Tis such a one I fain would have,  
Treats me as Subject, not as Slave.   

IV.  
Who knows her power to save or kill,  
And rules by Justice, not by will;  
Rewards me not for all my pain  
With Cruelty, or cold disdain.    

SONG.  

I.  
IS it Love that makes thee sad?  
Still musing on't will make thee mad:  
Then drink care away, fond lad.  
Such force and virtue is in Sack,  
'Twill free a Lover from the wrack  
And by oblivion will ease  
Him of that idle fond disease.   

II.  
Cupid like a drowned fly,  
In a brimmer thou shalt spy;  
But wet his wings, he'll helpless lie.  
Then let 'em merrily go round,  
Since no such remedy is found,  
To keep a Lover in his wits;  
Let thy drunken, cure Love-fits.    

SONG.  

I.  
OH how I do love  
The Music and sports of the City,  
Where Wit we improve,  
With the Converse of those that are Witty.   

The Westminster braves,  
The Hectors and Bullies,  
The other end Knaves,  
And those they call Cullies,  
Do make up the harmony.  
But give me the kind lass from her that wears patches,  
Down (if she be cleanly) to her that cries matches;  
That with her kind blade  
At the new Masquerade,  
At a Play or a Ball,  
She dares have at all;  
That dares do in the dark  
With the best in the Park,  
This, this, is the Wench for me.   

While the plain Country Coxcomb does spend all his time  
In drudging and toiling, ' thou't Reason or Rhyme:  
That with his own hands  
Doth manure his Lands,  
And with his own Swains  
Who eat up his gains;  
Or with the Parson o'th' Parish  
Sometimes he is mellow;  
O'er a Cup of damned Ale,  
Like a true Country fellow  
That knows no other delight.   

But give me the Lad that lets all his own,  
And lays by the care of Corn and Cattle,  
Then comes up to Town,  
And about does rattle.  
Treats himself and his Friends with store of good dishes,  
And at his own charge, with Fowls and with Fishes;  
Then Drenches him sound  
With lusty Burgundy,  
And nothing does owe  
To speak on, or so,  
Nor at his own Lodging  
Does often hear Duns,  
As loud as great Guns,  
Till with the damned noise  
Loud Echoes do fright ye;  
This, this is the man that is truly called mighty.    

A Prologue to a Tragedy, etc.  
ROom for a Poet that ne'er writ before,  
Aetatis, Twenty one, and somewhat more;  
He humbly prays, since he is come to age,  
He may have free possession of the Stage:  
Let not this favour be denied by you,  
Perhaps 'tis all that he is borne to:  
And as Babes born into the World, do cry,  
His Infant-wit begins with Tragedy:  
Expect not from him then a full ripe wit,  
But hear his prattle, and be pleased with it.  
Crassus once more he has brought upon the Stage;  
But he's secure, if he but 'scape your rage.  
Once he stood fearless 'midst war's loud alarms,  
Now dreads your Wit more than the Parthians Arms;  
That dreadful, dangerous, Judging, Damning Wit,  
That ne'er a Poet scarce could e'er scape yet;  
Howe'er t'has been, As to our Author's Play,  
All pale and trembling, thus he bid me say,  
Ladies, he hopes that you'll be merciful,  
While he expects from you, Sirs,— Pox 'tis dull:  
But if he please you, give his Parent's Joy,  
Clap him, and cry aloud, there's a brave Boy.   

One Country Lass to the other, newly returned from London.  
FIe on this Country Town, 'tis dull I vow,  
We have no Playhouse to divert us now;  
Where, 'fore the Play began, we used to fit,  
Hearing the Fiddles, and expecting Wit,  
And when 'twas spoke, scarce understanding it.  
There were gay clothes, and Scenes, a Fool that's merry,  
Dancing, and singing, with a hay down derry:  
This is the truest, and the kindliest sport,  
For Country Ladies, tother's for the Court.  
Nor could we sometimes scarce a sentence mind,  
We were so charged before, and then behind,  
With noise, and Fops that would be still addressing,  
Our Merits, and their impudence confessing:  
And 'troth, methinks the Stage does not so move,  
As when these press the hand, and whisper Love:  
Nor do the feigned Lovers there so please,  
And tickle Fancy, half so well as these.  
How oft to do, as they, with one another,  
I wished myself in private with my Lover,  
But I've confessed too much, these Joys are fled,  
And I've brought home again my Maidenhead.   

FOrtune has to Chloris sent  
More than can be quickly spent;  
Enough o' conscience to maintain  
Herself, her Gallant, and their train:  
Then let Chloris quite give o'er  
The thoughts of adding to her store,  
And like good natured Chloris then,  
Make, as they use to say, a man.  
And 'cause one kindness asks another,  
He'll shortly Chloris make a Mother.   

SOme Gallants to Chloris have lately made Court,  
But still she denies 'em, and will not yet sport,  
Her Glass she consults, and perhaps it does tell her,  
They Court her but for the large fortune befell her:  
And that being gotten, they soon will despise her,  
No, no, I'll warrant you, Chloris is wiser:  
And thinks herself handsome, in spite of her Glass,  
Since five thousand can mend the defects of her face:  
And thus she's resolved to admit of no more,  
Till he comes that shall Chloris for Beauty adore.   

SONG.  
IN vain, Amaryllis, in vain do I strive,  
To be rid of the chains I must wear whilst I live;  
I resolved I would try for to love thee no more,  
But the fit straight came on me as strong as before:  
Now nothing's so tedious each day I do prove,  
As the heats and the colds of the Ague of Love:  
'Gainst the force of thy charms I rally in vain,  
One sight of thy face overcomes me again.  
And thus by surprise my poor heart was beguiled,  
I stood your grave looks, but oh, than you smiled,  
And such ravishing Beauties and graces did show,  
That killed poor Amintas almost at a blow:  
Now when you appear, a trembling strait takes me,  
Vanquished, I fall, and my courage forsakes me;  
Then since I lie bleeding your Victim and Martyr,  
Use your Victory mildly, and let me have quarter.   

SONG.  

I.  
YOu delicate—  
How long will ye stand for a show?  
Still tempting your Lovers to eat,  
Yet suffer not one to fall to.   

II.  
To what purpose each day are you dressed,  
If it be meant only for looking;  
And no man must taste of the Feast,  
Where such cost and such care is in cooking.   

III.  
Though the substance you never so garnish,  
Yet Beauty at last growing stale,  
Delight, like a vapour will vanish,  
And each Lover's appetite fail.   

IV.  
Refuse not then what will delight ye,  
For Dad nor Damnation refrain;  
Let not the fear of these fright ye,  
Nor the speech of the people, as vain.    

HOw dull a thing this world would prove,  
If't were not for the Joys of Love:  
For what pleasure can it bring,  
To see returns of the Spring,  
And Summer, in its chiefest pride,  
If there were nought of Love beside?  
To drink, to dance, to laugh and sing,  
If Love were not a Guest within:  
To walk, to ride, to feast, and sport  
The State and glories of a Court:  
How life-less do all these appear,  
If Love vouchsafe not to be there:  
Let others glory in these things,  
And think 'em happy as are Kings:  
Then all their boastings, I say more,  
When I say, Celia, I adore.   

SONG.  

MOdestly I wooed thee, Phillis,  
Then how coy, how cold were't thee,  
That thy Lover nor those Lilies,  
Ne'er could tempt thee to be free.   

Since those banks of Pinks and Lilies  
Witness can what thou hast done,  
One could, but his modest will is  
To conceal, how soon, how soon thou were't won.   

Was it then my faint Addresses  
Chilled the ardour of thy heat;  
I should with more close caresses,  
Tempted thee unto the feat.   

Then those hours I vainly wasted,  
With enjoyment had been crowned:  
I should all those sweets have tasted  
Thou didst yield, on that, on that flowery ground.   

COmely Swain, why sittest thou so?  
Folded arms are signs of woe.   

My heart's grief, if thou wouldst know,  
Ah! 'tis cause Love's turned a Foe.   

Let Phillis smile, I'll be again  
The merriest of all the Plain.   

Sigh no more, ah! Silly Swain,  
Phillis counterfeits disdain.    

SONG.  

WHen Flora had on her new Gown a,  
And each pretty flower was blown a,  
ere the Scyth cut the grass,  
I met a pretty Lass,  
And I gave her a dainty green Gown a.   

She got up again, and did frown a,  
And called me both Coxcomb and Clown a,  
'Cause I kissed lip and cheek,  
Tother thing did not seek,  
When I had her so featly there down a.   

Betwixt anger and shame then a blush a,  
Came over my face with a flush a;  
But what I lost on the grass,  
Like a good natured Lass,  
She afforded me under a Bush a.    

SONG.  

'TWixt I will, and I will not,  
Phillis, delay me not,  
I vow I am so hot  
Nought else can cool me:   

Come, I will unlace thee,  
Quickly uncase thee,  
And then embrace thee,  
Prithee don't fool me.   

He that can't make his way,  
When he would get a boy,  
Deserves not to enjoy  
So rich a treasure.   

Fear not it is a sin,  
To show so white a skin,  
And take a Lover in  
The seat of pleasure:   

Come, by that smile I see,  
That we shall straight agree,  
Take this kiss for a fee,  
We'll love without measure.    

A SONG.  

I.  
COme Phillis, let's play,  
What though it be day,  
There's something we have yet to do,  
Shall make thee confess  
There's no end of our bliss,  
But ever our pleasures renew.   

II.  
Thou hast so much treasure  
Exceeding all measure,  
And here I've been so long a stranger,  
On this Snowy white hill  
I shall ne'er have my fill,  
But o'er it could still be a ranger.   

III.  
Oh here's such a Waste,  
A Smock that is laced,  
And a Bosom much whiter is seen;  
Below which there lies  
Such delicate Thighs,  
And that shall be nameless between.   

IV.  
But above all, a Face,  
And a Head in a Lace,  
O'er which such a glory does shine;  
That in pleasure I swim  
On a bright Cherubin,  
For my Phillis is sure as divine.   

V.  
ere all thy sweets be enjoyed,  
Or I shall be cloyed,  
An age will be past, and time shall away;  
Whilst our Play does go on  
With the rise of each Sun,  
And Night shall begin but the sports of the Day.    

On a Bellman (crying in the street,) which brought some Ladies to their door.  
THanks, honest Bellman, for hadst thou not been,  
I had not then so many Beauties seen;  
Thou mad'st Alarm, and out they tripped as fast,  
As they had said, the D. take the last:  
Hadst thou a Trumpet blown, I'd been in fear,  
Doomsday was come, and they the Angels were;  
I know not whether they were flesh or no,  
But, sure I am, they made a Saintlike show.  
Hadst thou a lost heart cried, there stood the Thief,  
Of all Heart-stealers, the notorious chief.  
Cryer, May'st thou ne'er meet with any evil  
Spirit, Hobgoblin, or midnight Devil.  
But when thou dost thy drowsy harangue make,  
In thy defence may every body wake.  
May others losses still thy gains increase,  
And when thou'dst bid good night, lie down in peace.  
But when we would make use of Spell or Charm,  
Come, honest Bell-wether, and make alarm.   

SONG.  

I.  
IF that we still use, makes us soon to grow weary,  
Why should we then be so fond as to marry?  
And lose with our freedom a various delight,  
To be cloyed with the same, and the same every night.   

II.  
To spend a Revenue in Family charges,  
On Beef, and Blew-aprons, in Cloth and in Serges,  
For Wife, and for children, when all may be done,  
And more, a la mode, for th'expense of a crown   

III.  
Or two, on a Miss. that will sing ye a new Song,  
Can daintily dally, and charm with her tongue.  
With a Jantie fine air can make her addresses,  
And with something that's new still court your caresses.   

IV.  
She oft to the Park and the Plays does resort,  
And can tell you besides all the news of the Court.  
And other fine fancies, then are you not mad,  
To be clogged with a wise, when such may be had?   

V.  
For she at home pouts, and can nothing say more,  
But welcomes you home, with you've been with your whore;  
Whilst Bachelors freely may frolic and sing,  
Drink, wench, and ramble, and take their own swing.    

To a young Lady confined, etc.  

I.  
WHat would they make a Nun of thee?  
Vowing thou shalt recluded be,  
For safeguard of thy Chastity.   

II.  
Kept to thy Needle, Book, and Prayer,  
And seldom suffered to take air,  
Come, 'tis because thou art so fair.   

III.  
Then patiently thy thrall endure,  
Diana in her Golden Tower,  
From the God was not secure.   

IV.  
And if thou shalt so guarded be,  
No man can have Intrigue with thee,  
Jove shall himself descend for thee.    

OUr Parents come together first,  
To satisfy each others Lust:  
Pleasure is the main procurer,  
And Matrimonies best insurer:  
Other ends they scarce have any,  
Though they do pretend to many.  
Thus we're got, and as they before,  
We soon are ripe for getting more.  
Come, Phillis, then let's try our skill,  
And Dame Nature's Laws fulfil.  
The world will quickly desert lie,  
If we each other should deny.  
Come, what afraid art to surrender,  
Because thou art yet young and tender.  
I'll gently handle thee, my Joy,  
With ease we'll try to get a boy,  
And pleasures that shall never cloy.   

SONG.  

I.  
NEver was Maiden with sorrows so fraught,  
For somewhat I long, but I know not for what;  
I sigh all day long, I pine, and I die,  
But I fear 'tis for that which made Phillis to sigh:  
She oft would complain, and cry, oh! for a man,  
My disease is the same; oh! some kind Physician.   

II.  
When a Maid does so kindly invite you to woe,  
You may venture to Try, and ne'er fear but she'll do;  
Then pity the case of a languishing Maid,  
That blushes to think, and to speak is afraid:  
But Philis would sigh, and cry oh! for a man,  
My disease is the same; oh! some kind Physician.    

SONG.  

OH the pains, cruel Miss. I endure,  
If you felt but the smart  
Of my poor wounded heart,  
You would not deny me the cure.   

What pleasure is there in a smile,  
Whilst you coily deny  
What I beg for, and sigh,  
And languish to death for the while.   

It is not a kiss can relieve me,  
But your poor Lovers thrall  
You can ease with a fall,  
'Tis that alone can reprieve me.   

Oh, the pains, cruel Miss, I endure,  
If you felt but the fire  
Of my burning desire,  
You would not deny me the cure.    

SONG.  

HEr charms so powerful were,  
That I adored her;  
With many a Sigh and Tear,  
Long I implored her;  
Love with enjoyment's crowned,  
Oh, what a Treasure  
Freely she now displays,  
Oh, what a pleasure!   

When I entwined do lie  
In close embraces,  
Noting each blush and smile,  
And other graces;  
Pleasure, than ecstasy,  
Cannot mount higher,  
Oh, 'tis then, oh, 'tis then,  
I could expire.   

Thus freed from cruel Love,  
And his keen Arrows,  
At pleasure off, and on,  
Like wanton Sparrows;   

Quench and renew my heat,  
Oft as desire  
Incites me to the feat  
Kindles new fire.    

Amyntas.  
AFter long service, and a thousand vows  
To her glad Lover, she more kindness shows:  
Oft had Amyntas with her tresses played,  
When the Sun's vigour drove'em to a shade;  
And many a time he had given her a green Gown;  
And oft he kissed her when he had her down.  
With sighs and motions he to her made known  
What fain he would have done, then with a frown  
She would forbid him, till the minute came  
That she no longer could conceal her flame.  
The Amorous Shepherd forward to espy  
Loves yielding motions triumph in her eye.  
With eager transport, straight himself addressed,  
To taste the pleasures of so rich a feast,  
When with resistance, and a seeming flight,  
As 'twere t'increase he Lover's appetite;  
Unto a place where flowers thicker grew,  
Out of his arms, as swift as air she flew:  
Daphne ne'er run so light and fast as she,  
When from the Gods she fled, and turned t'a Tree.  
The youth pursued, nor needs he run amain,  
〈…〉 she intended to be overtaken.  
〈…〉 no Apple, nor no golden ball,  
〈…〉 her flight, for she herself did fall.  
〈…〉 'mongst the Flowers, like Flora's self she lay,  
To gain more breath, that she might loosed in play:  
She plucked a Flower, and at Amyntas threw,  
When he addressed to crop a flower too.  
Then a faint strife she seemed to renew,  
She smiled, she frowned, she would, and would not do.  
At length o'ercome, she suffers with a sigh,  
Her ravished Lover use his victory:  
And gave him leave to punish her delay,  
With double vigour in the Amorous fray.  
But then, alas! soon ended the delight,  
For too much Love had had hastn'ed its flight:  
And every ravished sense too soon awake,  
Raped up in bliss it did but now partake:  
Which left the Lovers in a state to prove,  
Long were the pains, but short the joys of Love.   

On her writing some Verses. 
MA. 73.   
PHillis, since you such wit in Verse can show,  
That, and your Beauty needs must wonders do,  
Make Men adore, and Women envy you,  
Here in this Town, a Female Wit's as rare,  
As amongst ten of them to see one fair.  
And for the Men—  
Send 'em brisk Trade, now there's a Peace with th' Dutch,  
And no one's Wit or sense they'll ever grudge.  
This I dare say, Madam, spite of that Jest,  
He's an ill bird that does defile his nest;  
If we give praise, it is where praise is due,  
That is, Madam, only to such as you,  
That are the Virtuous, Fair, Ingenious few.   

On the Death of a Black bird.  
SEeking his long lost Liberty,  
Out at the Cages door did fly,  
Where he in safety long abode,  
To meet his sadder Fate abroad:  
Thus by his Feeder's mere neglect,  
Puss seized him, and without respect  
To his black Coat, and golden Bill,  
With cruel gripe did almost kill.  
But from her freed, and Caged again,  
Pensive, dropping, and in pain;  
He sat a while with silent throat,  
Uttering not one merry note;  
But slighting Food and Life, thus dies,  
To cruel Puss a sacrifice.  
FINIS.