I Warrant thee Boy, Shee's Right:
OR,
An exact Character of a Wanton Lass.
To a very rare Northern Tune: Or, All Hail to the dayes, etc.
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COme hither young Sinner
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Thou raw new beginner,
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I'le shew thee (if thou canst understand me)
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All the ways of a Wench,
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Be she English or French,
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More then Ovid's De Arte amandi;
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I'le teach thee to know,
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Both the who, and the how,
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And the when, and the where to delight?
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If she Saint-it, and simper,
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Look demurely, and whimper;
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I'le warrant thee Boy, she's Right.
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If she turn up her eyes,
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And playes the presize,
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She Beds you, if that you do like her:
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If without joy or fear,
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She can laugh, or shed tear,
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'Tis the only true trick of a striker:
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If she use many freakes,
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Or sigh when she speakes,
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She is deeply in Love by this light:
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If you tread on her toe,
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And she answer you so:
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I'le warrant thee Boy shee's Right.
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Shee'l smile, and shee'l frown,
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Shee'l laugh, and lye down;
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At every turn, you must attend her:
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Shee'l peepe in her Glasse,
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And dispraise her own Face,
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On purpose that you may commend her:
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With Love Tales, and Chances,
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Pickt out of Romances,
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Shee'l angle to try if you'l bite:
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If she speak in a passion,
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And make Application:
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I'le warrant thee Boy shee's Right.
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If she bids you stand at distance,
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There is no resistance,
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Her very Retreat is a Call?
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Shee'l stare in your eyes,
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Like a Pirate on his Prize,
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As if she would cry Have at all:
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Shee'l shew you her brest,
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To guesse at the rest;
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And in talking of Love, shee'l delight:
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If she sit in your lap,
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Beware of a trap,
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For I warrant thee Boy, etc.
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Shee'l hit, and shee'l misse,
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Looke coy, and yet kisse,
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To try and find out what you are;
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One action shall say,
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Pray Sir go your way,
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And another cry come and you dare:
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Shee'l shew you a glance,
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Like Heaven in a trance,
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No Diamond or Saphir so bright;
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If she kiss with Mouth wide,
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Shee'l do something beside,
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For I warrant thee Boy, etc.
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Shee'l set you more snares
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Than her Head-tyre hath hairs,
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Shee's subtile and swift of invention;
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If you jest and mean loosely,
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Though very Reclusely,
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Shee'l shew you her quick apprehension:
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Her Plots are abounding
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Shee'l have Fitts of swounding,
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If she call on thy Name in the fright;
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You need not to miss her,
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Go to her and Kiss her
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I'le warrant thee Boy, she's Right.
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Shee'l Kiss and cry Quarter,
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And untye her Garter,
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That you may take up for a Favour;
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When you tye it on agen,
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Shee'l cry, Fy, What d'ee mean,
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Y'are a Person of a rude behaviour:
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I wonder you dare,
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Approach me so near.
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As if I were wanton or light;
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If shee's troubled with Qualms,
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Or sweats in her Palms.
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I'le warrant thee Boy she's Right.
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Shee'l bid you forbear,
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Y' are uncivil my Dear,
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She Tempts in her very Denial:
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When her Tongue sayes, Be gone,
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Her Looks sayes, Come on;
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These sticklings are only for Tryal:
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When Rams do Retreat,
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More Courage they get,
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And Tilt with reduplified might;
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No sight doth so move,
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As the Land-skip of Love,
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I'le warrant thee Boy, etc.
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When Noll stole the Scepter,
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She Canted the Scripture,
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And went to St. Antholin's Lecture;
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But now she doth Trade,
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Like a new Reformade,
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And is a Decoy to the Hector:
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She swears she is free,
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From all Men but Thee,
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And Blushes like a Bride in the Night:
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If she squints through her Hood,
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to stir up your Blood,
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I'le warrant thee Boy, etc.
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Her Turns and her Winds,
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No Fancy can find,
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She of such a changeable Temper is;
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Shee'l give you a look,
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Like a Virgin forsook,
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And another Commands like an Empress:
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This sign never misses,
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She Squeeks when she Kisses,
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And glimmers like Stars in the Night;
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If she gives thee a Trip,
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With her loose under Lip,
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I'le warrant thee Boy, etc.
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If you meet her by Chance,
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A la mode de France,
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Shee'l Salute you, and so go her way;
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Yet put her to th' Tryal,
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Shee'l give you no Denyal,
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But soon Condescend for to stay:
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Such subtile Invention,
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Hath she for her Intention,
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Then to the Tavern you must her invite;
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Where, if with a Courage,
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She drink Wine and Burrage,
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I'le warrant thee Boy, etc.
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Shee'l give thee to wear,
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A Lock of her Hair,
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Then for her Prisoner shee'l take ye;
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But let me Perswade ye,
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To believe, that this Lady
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Is your own, and will not escape ye:
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Thus have I in brief,
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Told the Mark of the Thief,
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That filches Affection by Slight;
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But if she Prevail,
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Th' art a Slave in a Jayle,
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And Honour will bid thee Good-night.
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