The Counterfeit Court Lady:
OR,
An Answer to, Your Humble Servant Madam.
Discovering all her cunning Knacks and feats,
How wittily she doth bestow her Cheats:
By which she doth much admiration gain,
And in a splendid Garb herself maintain.
To the Tune of, Your Humble Servant Madam.
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I A am a Lass
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That doth surpass,
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the beauties of the City;
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And near the Court,
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Where Blades resort,
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i'm counted wondrous witty:
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I have an oyly Tongue,
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And very well it's hung,
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if that you will believe me;
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Your flattering disease,
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My humour cannot please,
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for there's none that can deceive me.
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No vapouring Cheat,
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Shall do the Feat,
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with such a Girl as I am:
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I'le sit and smile,
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And him beguile,
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and all his Oaths defie 'um:
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He that will cog and lye,
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Gains not my company,
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when once his plot I faddam;
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For I scorn that any man,
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Should ever me trappan,
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with your humble servant Madam.
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The Second Part, To the same Tune.
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AT my first Rise,
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I was so wise,
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to gain a great mans favour;
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And by my art,
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I won his heart,
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all by my brisk behaviour:
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Where I had Gold at will,
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My mind for to fulfil,
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he willing was to grant it;
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But though that he is gone,
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And I am left alone,
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I never fear to want it.
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My Rich attire,
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Made all admire,
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and by what means I gain'd it;
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I have a Knack,
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To drink good Sack,
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and bravely to maintain it:
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With my Pearl about my neck,
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And my Gallants at a beck,
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I us'd to drein their Purses;
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Before they will not grant,
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Whatever I do want,
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they'l sell both Coach and Horses.
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To train up Youth,
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I speak the truth,
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upon my Reputation;
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I do excell,
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And do it well,
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as any in the Nation:
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If I may gain their gold,
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I'le make them free and bold,
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there's none that shall out-vie them,
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For all the art of Love,
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You shall of them approve,
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whene're you please to try them.
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Young Ladies they
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Observe my way,
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they think I am a neat one;
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If I do glance,
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Or Sing, or Dance,
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I am a most compleat one.
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Though my breeding was not great,
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Yet I have learnt the feat,
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for to delude a Sinner;
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To sit upon his Lap,
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And catch him in a trap,
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for I am no young beginner.
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How happy he
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Is thought to be,
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that by his comely carriage,
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Hath got the Art,
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To win my heart,
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and treat with me of Marriage:
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When I seem to comply,
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He knows no reason why,
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but that he may believe me;
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Thus I get Diamond Rings,
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And many pritty things,
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for none could e're deceive me.
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Thus with my wit,
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Great benefit,
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and Riches I have gotten;
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Which I in store,
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Keep for the Poor,
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when I am dead and rotten:
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He shall be paid full well,
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That Rings my Passing-Bell,
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and digs my Grave a fadam,
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Then all that can be said,
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Here lies one Buried,
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that was a Ranting Madam.
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