He.

SWEE

A Dialogue.

WEET Nelly, my heart's delight,
Be loving, and do not flight

The offer I make,

For modefty's fake,

I honour your beauty bright;
For, love, I proteft

I can do no lefs,
Thou haft my favour won;
And fince I fee

Your modefty,
Therefore agree,

And fancy me,
Though I'm but a farmer's fon

She. No, I am a lady gay,

'Tis very well known I may
Have men of renown,

In city or town:
Nay, Roger, without delay,

Court Bridget or Sue,

Kate, Nancy, or Prue,

Their loves may foon be won;

But don't you dare

To speak me fair,

As if I were

At

my laft prayer,

To marry a farmer's fon.

13

He.

He. My father has riches store,
Two hundred a year and more,
Befides fheep and cows,
Carts, harrows and ploughs;

2

For their labour and pain,
Whatever they gain,

They don't to harlots run,
As courtiers do.

I never knew

A city beau

That cou'd out-do

A country farmer's fon.

She. Be not in fuch hafte, quoth she,
Perhaps we may still agree;
For, man, I protest,

I was but in jeft;

Come pr'ythee fit down by me;

For thou art the man

That verily can

Perform what must be done;

Both ftrait and tall,

Genteel withal,

Therefore I fhall

Be at your call,

And I'll marry the farmer's fon

As

s foon as the chaos was made into form,

And the first race of men knew a good from a They quickly did join in acknowledge divine, (harm; That the world's chiefeft bleffings were women and Since when by example improving delights, (wine. Time governs our days, love and beauty our nights: Love on then, and drink,

'Tis a folly to think

Of a mystery out of our reaches:

Be moral in thought;

To be merry's no fault,

Tho' an elder the contrary preaches;

For never, my friends, was an age of more vice,

Than when knaves wou'd feem pious, and fools wou'd (feem wife.

L

ET us dance, let us fing,

Whilft our life's in the spring,

And give all to the great god of love;

Let us revel and play,

And rejoice whilst we may,

Since old time these delights will remove.

菠菠

Cu

F

CUPID turn'd Tinker.

AIR Venus, they say,

On a rainy bleak day,

Thus fent her child Cupid a packing:

Get thee gone from my door,

Like a fon of a whore,

And elsewhere ftand bouncing and cracking.

To tell the plain truth,

Our little blind youth

Beat the hoof a long while up and down, fir,

Till, all dangers past,

By good fortune, at last

He stumbled into a great town, fir.

Then straight to himself

Crys this tiny fly elf,

Since begging brings little relief, sir,

A trade I'll commence

That fhall bring in the pence;

And straight he fet up for a thief, fir.

At play-house and kirk,

Where he flily did lurk,

He ftole hearts both from young and old people,

Till at last, fays my fong,

He had like to have swung

On a gallows as high as a steeple.

Then