The Hasty Lover;
With the Young Womans Answer
Love me and Marry me.
To a Pleasant New Tune.
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IF you will love me, be free in expressing it,
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& henceforth give me no cause to complain,
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Or if you hate me be plain in confessing it,
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and in few words put me out of my pain;
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This long delaying, with sighing and praying,
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breeds only delaying in life and Amour,
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Cooing and Wooing, and such foolish doing,
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has oft been my Ruin, therefore I'll give o're.
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If you'll propose a kind method of ruling me,
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I may return to my Duty again,
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But if you stick to your old way of fooling me,
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I must be plain, I am none of your Man,
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Passion for passion, on each occasion,
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with free inclination does kindle loves fire;
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But tedious prating, coy folly debating,
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and new doubts creating, still makes it expire.
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WOMAN.
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You love, and yet when I ask you to marry me,
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still have recourse to the tricks of your Art,
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Then like a Fencer you cunningly parry me,
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yet the same time make a pass at my heart,
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Fye fye deceiver no longer endeavour,
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or think this way ever the Fort will be won,
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No fond caressing must be, nor unlacing,
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or tender embracing till the Parson has done.
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Some say that Marriage a Dog with a Bottle is,
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pleasing their humours to rail at their Wives,
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Others declare it an Ape with a Rattle is,
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comfort destroyer and plague of their lives;
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Some are afflriming a Trap 'tis for Vermin,
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and yet with the bait, though not Prison agree,
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Ventring that chouse ye must let me espouse ye,
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if ere my dear Mouse you will nibble at me.
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MAN.
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Tho' you're so scornful now thus to disdain my Love
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I'll vow and swear by the Powers above,
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If you be kinder, and let me obtain your love,
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from you I'll never, I'll never remove;
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Then prithee Sally, nor stand shally shally,
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nor no longer dally, but give your consent,
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Though I'll not marry, you shall not miscarry,
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then prithee don't tarry, but tell your intent.
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WOMAN.
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Though you so cunningly strive to obtain my Love,
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Thus I must tell you I'm not to be won,
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For should I yield Sir, you soon would disdain my love
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and to some other new Mistress would run,
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Prithee Deceiver no longer endeavour,
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or think that I ever will give my consent,
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I tell you Sir Harry, for fear I miscarry,
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unless you will marry, this is my intent.
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