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TIll from Leghorn I do return,
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still constant to me prove;
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Let none impart, or share thy heart,
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but only me thy love;
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Let no brisk Boy thy love injoy,
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or rob me of my, treasure;
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But may we kiss injoying bliss,
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possest of earthly pleasure.
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Ah charming fair one of my heart,
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how wretched now am I;
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Since from thee I am forc'd to part,
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and leave felicity:
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All night I lye, I sigh and groan,
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still thinking of the bliss;
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We oft times have injoy'd alone,
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with smile and amorous kiss.
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When night grows dark, I steer my Bark,
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to loves long-wisht for Port;
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But still I find the winds unkind,
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I cannot reach the Fort;
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Tempestuous waves my heart inslaves
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my troubled Bark does roul;
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Nothing I see, unless't be thee,
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can ease my troubled soul.
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With serious thoughts I spend my hour[s],
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still thinking of your charms,
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Till sleep my drowsie sence o're-powers,
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and brings thee to my arms;
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Where in a Dream I thee imbrace,
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and think the world's my own,
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But when I wake, O then alas,
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my earthly joy is gone.
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With early look, when day appears,
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I rouse me up from sleep;
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I find my Pillow strew'd with tears,
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your absence caus'd me weep:
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Thus never shall I be at ease,
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till like two Turtles we
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May still be Billing when we please,
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and live at liberty.
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Ah Mary Foart thou lovely Maid,
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writ in my heart most dear;
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May storms and tempests me invade,
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when Mary is not there:
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Though London youths do seek the prize,
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to take and bare away;
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Yet she that's vertuous, chaste, and wise,
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will own her Love
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Vertue the Reward of Constancy; Or, Mrs. Mary Foarts Love-Letter and An-
swer to her dear heart John Blay at Leghorn:
Wherein she protests her constancy and happiness in the injoyment of his love; which
she writ to him in Verse, as his was to her: and showing the same to a Friend of
hers for his approbation, he caused both the Letter and the Answer to be publish'd.
to vindicate the Maids honour and constancy, which some sly young-men living
near, had endeavoured to traduce, and by that means to break off the match, which
they had designed otherways. To the same Tune.
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Her Answer.
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MY dear to thee i'le surely be
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as chast as Ice or snow;
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I'le wast the nights in our delights,
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till Nilus over-flow:
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Let not Spains beauty gain thy duty,
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nor win thee by her charms;
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But may I still, spight of all ill,
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imbrace thee in my arms.
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In shady Grove made fit for love,
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I sit and waste my hours,
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Sigh and cry tears from my eye,
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distill like Pearly showres.
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Nor can I rest, till I am blest,
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with thee whom I esteem,
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Though fancy may my griefs betray,
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there's nothing in a Dream.
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Like one in chains, tortur'd with pains,
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I dayly rave and tear,
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Fearing some wave might be a Grave,
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for to inclose my Dear;
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Not all the Gods that rules the Seas,
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if I once see thy face,
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Shall me betray, or bear away
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my love from my imbrace.
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May Boreas be once kind to me,
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fill every troubled Sail,
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May Merchants leap, and Seamen skip,
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since love does now prevail:
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May winds once bear to me my Dear,
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and fix me on thy breast,
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Then shall I be, injoying thee,
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of happiness possest.
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In sweet delights we'l spend the nights,
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no storms shall cause us fear;
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Lockt in my arms, guarded from harms,
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I will secure my Dear.
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Then shall I surely be at ease,
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when like two Turtles we,
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May bill and kiss even when we please,
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injoying liberty.
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Remember me my Dear John Blay,
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as I thee on the Shore,
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Let not Italian Dames betray,
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thy heart keep well in store.
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No London youths shall e're persuade
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my love by false report;
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For thee i'le live or dye a Maid,
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thy Dear Heart
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