INAMORATO and MISOGAMOS:
OR,
A Love-Song Mock'd.
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Song.
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AS often as I hear the Tone
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Of Phillida and Choridon,
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Contemplating those choice Delights
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That attend Hymen's Proselytes;
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The jolly Mirth, and dainty Chear,
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They make with Honey, Duck, and Dear:
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The pretty Prue's, and bonny Besse's,
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Their Courting, Kissing and Caresses:
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The pleasant noise, and chearly sound,
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When Musick strikes, and Cups go round:
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Methinks I'me blest with some rich Spouse,
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My Head is crown'd with Myrtle Boughs.
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I rowl myself in Wealth and Peace,
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My Sorrows fade, my Joys increase:
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My Love's as fruitful as the Spring,
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My House is fit to treat a King.
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Ah wretch, say I, thou hast done wrong
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To live a Batchelour so long:
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All my peace to this is strife,
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No comfort like a Married Life.
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The Mock.
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And when I hear the filthy Jars
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'Twixt John and Joan, those Curtain Wars;
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Considering well the destiny
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Of such as Priests or Hangmen tie;
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The Tattoo of the Bed and Cradle,
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The walking of the Tongue and Ladle;
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The dirty Doll's, and jumping Jugg's,
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Their hunches, nips, and Cornish Huggs:
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The drery noise and Ruthfull cry,
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When Pots are broke, and Trenchers flye:
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Methinks I'me yoak'd to some foul Sib,
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My Costard shatter'd with my Rib.
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I feel the want of Land and Goods,
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My hairs are gray, my Antler buds.
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My cares increase, my Wife's with Child,
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My House is smoaky, and until'd.
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Blest man, I say, who curbs desire,
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And keeps his fingers out o'th' fire:
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All my Gaul to this is Honey,
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No Martyrdom like Matrimony.
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Song.
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Fool though I am, I knew the time,
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When I could gloss my Love in Rithme,
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And pourtray by the Heraulds Rules,
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In field of Argent Roses Gules.
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For whileom I have seen a Maid,
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In whom such Beauties were display'd;
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A Blush right Orient, and below,
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Fair as the Field where Lillies grow:
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She breath'd like Zeph'rus when he creeps
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O're beds of Violets, or sweeps
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Spices on heaps; one might divine
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My mind by th' language of mine eyne:
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My head was fill'd with am'rous Fancies;
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I courted her with sighs and glances.
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But she more chaste then driven Snow,
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To all my Motions answer'd, No.
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If Females all were such, I'le swear,
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He who enjoys for one poor year,
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So sweet, so bright a Thing as She,
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May count his Life a Jubilee.
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The Mock.
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But I describe in black and blue,
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Which men of Blazon never knew;
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And in despite of Zeuxis Art,
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Can draw a Wrinkle, or a Wart.
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For lately I beheld a Girle,
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With Teeth of Amber, Eyes of Pearl;
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A Neck pure Chesnut, and hard by,
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Hung Breast of right Westphalia Die.
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She belch't like Boreas, when he rushes
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Through a Scotch Ord'nary, or brushes
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Old Puddle-Dock: You might suppose
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My mind, by stopping of my Nose.
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Strange Qualms did on my Stomack ride,
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That I was forc'd to turn aside:
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But she more common then th' high-way,
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Ask who would, ne're would say him nay.
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If Women all were such, God wot,
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The man that beds with such a Slut,
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Ha's got enough at home to make on,
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Let Dunmow people keep their Bacon.
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Song.
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I must confess, upon a day,
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When all my thoughts were Westward ha,
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Near Hampton-Court I saw a Face,
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The Throne of Modesty and Grace;
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In whose each motion might be seen
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Hadassa and the Southern Queen:
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Her Smiles were argument to prove
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The Phoenix, and the God of Love.
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From these the Pencil learnt those Draughts
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Of Titan's Beams, and Cupid's Shafts.
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Bless me, said I, since I must die,
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My Heart a Sacrifice shall lie,
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Burnt with the Lustre of her Eye.
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The Mock.
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And I being lately Eastward bound,
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To take a merry Countrey Round,
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There I beheld a Thing call'd Woman,
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Save him that hath her, Match for no man!
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In whose Behaviour you may spell,
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What Job's Wife was, and Jezabel.
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Her Looks made good the doubtful story
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Of Acharon and Purgatory.
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From these the Painter had advice
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To limn the Toad and Cockatrice.
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This made me cry, since Friends must part,
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E're this vile wretch shall have my heart,
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I'le suffer, Drive away the Cart.
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