The mysteries of love & eloquence, or, The arts of wooing and complementing as they are manag'd in the Spring Garden, Hide Park, the New Exchange, and other eminent places : a work in which is drawn to the life the deportments of the most accomplisht persons, the mode of their courtly entertainments, treatments of their ladies at balls, their accustom'd sports, drolls and fancies, the witchcrafts of their perswasive language in their approaches, or other more secret dispatches ...

Taffy to his Mistress.

MOdest Shentle, when her but see The great laugh her made on me, And fine wink that her send

To her, came to see her friend; Her could not shuse py Cot apove, But he was intangle in her love; A hundred ofttimes her was about, To speak to her, and have her out: But her peeing a Welsh man porn, And therefore was thank her would her scorn; Was fear, put think nothing better, Then put her love into a Letter; Hoping her will not ceptions take Upon her love, for Country sake. For say her be Wilsh man, what ten By Cot they all be Shentlemen; Was descend from Shoves none Line, Par humane, and par divine; And from Venus that fair Coddes, And twenty other shentle Poddies. Hector stout, and comely Paris, Arthur, Prute, and King of Fairies, Was her none Cosin, all a kin, We have the Powels issue in. And for ought that her can see, As cood men as other men pee; But what of that, Love is a knave, Was make her do what her would have; Was compel her to write the rhime, That ne're was write before this time; And if she will not pitty her pain, As Cot shudge her soul shall ne're write again. For Love is like an ague fit, Was bring poor Welsh-men out of her wit, Till by her answer her do know, Whether her do love or no. Her has not pin in England long, And con no speak the English tongue, Put her is her friend and so her will prove; Pray send her word if her can love.