Clievelandi Vindiciæ, or, Clieveland's genuine poems, orations, epistles, &c. purged from the many false and spurious ones which had usurped his name, and from innumerable errours and corruptions in the true copies : to which are added many never printed before, with an account of the author's life.

A Young Man to an Old Woman court∣ing him.

PEace Beldam Eve, surcease thy Suit, There's no Temptation in such Fruit. No rotten Medlars, whilst there be Whole Orchards in Virginity. Thy Stock is too much out of date For tender Plants t' inoculate.

A Match with thee the Bridegroom fears Would be thought Incest in his years, Which when compar'd to thine become Odd Money to thy Grandam Sum. Can Wedlock know so great a Curse, As putting Husbands out to Nurse? How Pond and Rivers would mistake, And cry new Almanacks for our sake? Time sure hath wheel'd about his Year, December meeting Ianiveer. Th' Egyptian Serpent figures Time, And strip'd, returns into his prime. If my Affection thou wouldst win, First cast thy Hieroglyphick Skin. My Modern Lips know not, alack, The old Religion of thy Smack. I count that Primitive Embrace, As out of Fashion, as thy Face; And yet so long 'tis since thy fall, Thy Fornication's Classical. Our Sports will differ thou must play Lero, and I Alphonso way. I'm no Translator, have no vein To turn a Woman young again; Unless you'l grant the Taylor's due, To see the Fore-bodies be new.

I love to wear Clothes that are flush, Not prefacing old Rags with Plush, Like Aldermen, or Under-shrieves With Canvas Backs, and Velvet-Sleeves: And just such Discord there would be Betwixt thy Skeleton and me. Go study Salve and Triacle, ply Your Tenant's Leg, or his sore eye. Thus Matrons purchase Credit, thank, Six penny worth of Mountebank; Or chew thy Cud on some Delight, That thou didst taste in Eighty eight▪ Or be but Bed-rid once, and then Thoul't dream thy youthful sins agen: But if thou needs wilt be my Spouse, First hearken and attend my Vows. When Aetna's fires shall undergo The Penance of the Alps in Snow▪ When Sol at one blast of his Horn Posts from the Crab to Capricorn; When the Heavens shuffle all in one, The Torrid with the Frozen Zone; When all these Contradictions meet, Then, Sybil, thou and I will greet: For all these Similies do hold In my young Heat, and thy dull Cold.

Then, if a Fever be so good A Pimp as to inflame thy Blood, Hymen shall twist thee and thy Page, The distinct Tropicks of Man's Age. Well, Madam Time, be ever bald, I'l not thy Perriwig be call'd: I'l never be 'stead of a Lover, An aged Chronicle's new Cover.