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