HEaven first created Woman to be Kind,
Both to be belov’d, and for to Love;
If you contradict what Heav’n has design’d,
You’ll be contemn’d by all the Pow’rs above:
Then no more dispute me, for I am rashly bent,
To subject your Beauty
To kind Nature’s Duty,
Let me than salute you by Consent.
Arguments and fair Intreats did I use,
But with her Consent could not prevail;
She the Blessing modestly would still refuse,
Seeming for to slight my amorous Tale:
Sometimes she would cry Sir, prithee Dear be good,
Oh Sir, pray Sir, why Sir?
Pray now, nay now, fye Sir,
I would sooner die Sir, than be rude.
I began to treat her then another way,
Modestly I melted with a Kiss;
She then blushing look’d like the rising Day,
Fitting for me to attempt the Bliss:
I gave her a fall Sir, she began to tear,
Crying she would call Sir,
As loud as she could baul Sir,
But is prov’d as false, Sir, as she’s Fair.
Ralph’s going to the Wars.
[[Listen]]
TO the Wars I must alass,
Though I do not like the Game,
For I hold him to be an Ass,
That will lose his Life for Fame:
For these Guns are such pestilent things,
To pat a Pellet in ones Brow;
Four vurlongs off ch’ve heard zome zay,
Ch’ill kill a Man he knows not how.
When the Bow, Bill, Zword and Dagger,
Were us’d all in vighting;
Ch’ve heard my Father swear and swagger,
That it was but a Flea-biting:
But these Guns, &c.
Ise would vight with the best of our Parish,
And play at Whisters with Mary;
Cou’d thump the Vootball, yerk the Morrie,
And box at Visticuffs with any:
But these Guns, &c.
Varewel Dick, Tom, Ralph and Hugh,
My Maypoles make all heretofore;
Varewel Doll, Kate, Zis and Zue,
For I shall never zee you more:
For these Guns are such pestilent things,
To pat a Pellet in ones Brow;
Four vurlongs off ch’ve heard zome zay,
Ch’ill kill a Man he knows not how.