THE
Usurers Daughters Reply,
OR,
FLOROMELLAS Answer to PHAON.
To a Pleasant New Play-House Tune.
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NOw young tempting Phaon you shall have your prey,
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Floramella does your mind fulfill,
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And though Gold could never force me to obey,
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freely I consent unto your will:
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Were my Beauty under twenty Locks kept fast,
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Love should Pick them, and break through at last.
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While Dads find us missing, Kissing we will lye,
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Let them keep in Bondage Baggs on high,
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My Gentle Charming Phaon minutes shall not dye,
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Money shall not part my Love and I.
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II.
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Loves sweet gentle Spring shall always fresh remain,
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and our Lips redouble Blows of ease,
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Phaon ne'r shall find from me a dull disdain,
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for I'le teach how Maids shall men appease:
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Love on Downie Pillows e'ry night shall rest
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Upon Floramellas Tender Breast.
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While Old, etc.
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III.
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There's no Man so dull but has for us desire,
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and with Blushing-Virgins would be bold,
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Oft attempting for to raise a wanton Fire,
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when they find us like the Winter Cold:
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And though Maidens hearts are like Unpolisht-steel.
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By Mens art and Labour, smoother feel.
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While Old, etc.
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IV.
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Beauty was Created for the Lovers aid,
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else a Lovely Image does but prove,
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And no Liveless Statue, but a Lively Maid,
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the young brisk and bonny wantons Love:
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Though Pigmalions Mistris made of Stone & Art,
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Once did Captivate her Makers heart.
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While Old, etc.
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V.
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Phaon shall lie safe in Floramellas arms,
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and possess that Bliss that Gods admire,
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Circled in a thousand gay and pleasing Charms,
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that in Hermits might create a Fire:
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As fair Venus with Adonis us'd to toy,
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When she once did Court that Beauteous Boy.
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While Dads, etc.
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VI.
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A long lasting Night to us will seem but short,
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for the light-foot hours post away,
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Fly away too soon, whilst Lovers make their Court,
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thus the Mad-Cap Night brings on the day:
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And the day would soon reveal our sweet Delight,
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But the Stars will tell no Tales by night.
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While Dads, etc.
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VII.
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Thus thy Floramella on her Phaons Cheek,
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all the sweet Delights of Love will tast,
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There for Cupids Bow and arrows I will seek,
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and the winged Hours will not wast:
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All my Coyness shall be melted, and be gone,
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Like the Mountain Snow with mid-day Sun.
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While Dads find us missing, Kissing we will lye,
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Let them keep in Bondage Baggs on high,
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My gentle Charming Phaon minutes shall not dye,
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Money shall not part my Love and I.
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