Charming AMINTAS: OR, The Yielding VIRGIN.  
To a Pleasant New Tune.  
This may be Printed.  
 portrait  
 portrait  

WHen first Amintas sued for a Kiss,  
my innocent Heart was tender;  
That though I pushed him away from the bliss,  
my Eyes declared my Heart was won:  
I fain an awful kindness would use,  
before I the Fort did surrender:  
But Love would suffer no more such abuse,  
and soon (alas) my Cheats was known:  
He'd sit all day, and laugh and play,  
a thousand pretty things he'd say:  
My hand he'd squeeze, and press my knees,  
till further on he got by degrees.   
 generic woodcut of woman and man  

My heart just like a Vessel at Sea,  
Would toss when Amintas was near me;  
But ah! so cunning a Pilot was he,  
Through doubts and fears he'd still sail on,  
I thought in him no danger could be,  
So wisely he knew how to Steer me,  
And soon alas! was brought to agree,  
To tafie of joys before unknown:  
Well might he boast, his pains not lost,  
For soon he sound the Golden Coast;  
Enjoyed the Oar, and touched the shore,  
Where never Merchant went before.   

Soft Blushes always came in my Face,  
When ever Amintas drew near me;  
He told me Roses looked with such grace,  
And pretty fair daisies when Summer comes on  
He pressed me, kissed me with so much love,  
I could not deny him the Blessing:  
And with such sweet Words my heart he did move  
That soon I yielded to him alone.  
So Violets by the Sun are won,  
To spread their Leaves and be undone;  
The heat does warm and sweetly charm,  
And makes young Maids forget all the harm.   

A thousand times that he would be true,  
Amintas protested unto me;  
He than his soft Kisses again would renew,  
So Balmy and sweet, that I soon was we  
With sighs and vows he raised such a fire,  
That made my young heart to surrender:  
And then by his Art he still blew it up higher,  
Till Maiden-doubts and fears were gone.  
None could resist when ever he lift,  
So gently soft and sweet he kissed,  
His Head he'd rest upon my Breast,  
And those soft tender Pillows he be pressed,   

The Marble stone will melt by degrees,  
If often soft Dew doth drop on it;  
Amintas he any Maiden might please,  
To yield to his Arms, and like me to be woe  
Can any resist such gentle soft charms,  
Such vows, such sighs, and such kisses?  
Can any repine at so sweet a Youths arms:  
She sure must yield, or else be a Drone.  
We will not lose no time in Rhyme,  
But say that Maidens in their prime:  
Should for their Head take Tom or Ned,  
For Flint will break on Featherbed.    

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