Loves better then Gold:
OR,
MONEY's an Ass.
Come hear my Song, it does you all concern,
From it you may your own Misfortunes learn:
And yet 'tis vain, as hereby I shall prove,
For want of Money to neglect your Love.
To a New Delightful Tune, much in request at Court.
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WHy should friends and kindred gravely make thee,
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Wrong thyself, and cruelly forsake me,
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Be still my dearest Mistris, hang relations,
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Loves above their dull considerations;
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Let them live and want to heap up treasure,
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Whilst that thee and I enjoy our pleasure.
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He that seeks a Mistris in a portion.
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Puts himself to use with damn'd extortion:
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If he must be brib'd to copulation,
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Pox upon his love, 'tis out of fashion:
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Where we like, no matter where th' estate is.
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'Tis not love except he shews it gratis.
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How to see the Miser have I wondred,
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Weighing out his passion by the hundred,
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Ne'r consulting birth or education,
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Vertue without wealth's but prophanation:
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Be she old or ugly 'tis no matter,
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So she is is but rich he'l venture at her.
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Joynture is a sordid lay invention,
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Quite beside our nature and intention:
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When we would agree it makes resistance,
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Finding tricks to keep us at a distance:
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Then who poorly makes a new election,
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Suffers wealth to Cuckold his affection.
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SOuls are free and shou'd not be consin'd to,
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Objects which the fancy has no mind to,
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When a pretty female I importune?
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Shall I lose her for her want of fortune?
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'Tis a folly, sordid, and inhumane,
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Thus to sell the pleasures of a woman.
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More to me the pleasing of my mind is,
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Than the far-fetcht wealth of both the Indies,
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I've a soul above those drossy treasures,
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Love does yield more sweet and lasting pleasures,
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Such a joy as nothing can destroy it,
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None desribe it but they that do injoy it.
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Yet the low-soul'd wretch may have his fancy,
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I can value nothing but my Nancy:
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She that has an eye so black and sprightful,
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And a place I name not more delightful?
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Such a mine as greater wealth affordeth,
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That the wretched worldling ever hoardeth.
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Rows of brightest and of shining pearls are,
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Not so oriental as my girls are,
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Rubies touch her lips, and gain more lustre,
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Looking redder when that they have bust her,
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Her red cheeks so fair she need not patch it,
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There's none but the other cheek can match it:
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Then for humour, wit and conversation,
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Nothing can be like her in the Nation,
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Always lively, airy, brisk and jolly,
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Free from studied pride, and Melancholly?
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Such she is, and her I love more dearly,
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than the dame that has her thousands yearly.
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There you cringe and make your best addresses,
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But alass she likes not your caresses;
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Speak and Bow as well as e're you can Sir,
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Ten to one if e're you get an answer:
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When you'r gone she crys a sawcy fellow,
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Come to me without his white and yellow,
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He that can and will this hag may marry,
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But for me the jade is like to tarry;
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Let her live till lust and age do grieve her,
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Till she call her Money to releive her;
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May she covet Husbands without measure,
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Always wish, but know not of her pleasure.
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Still my girl and I will love each other,
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Want of wealth shall ne'r my pasion smother
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Were she rich I could not love her better,
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Were she poor I wou'd ne'r defeat her:
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Whatsoever I have I must confess it,
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She deserves, and therefore shall possess it.
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