Sportive vvit the muses merriment, a new spring of lusty drollery, joviall fancies, and a la mode lamponnes, on some heroic persons of these late times, never before exposed to the publick view / collected for the publick good by a club of sparkling wits, viz. C.J., B.J., L.M., W.T., cum multis alsis----

1: A song, on a Tenement.

IF any man doth want a house, Be he Prince, Baronet••, or 'Squire, Or Peasant, (hardly worth a louse) I can fit his desire: I have a tenement, the which, I know will fit them all, 'Tis seated near a stinking ditch, They call it Cunny-hall.

2.

It doth lye beyond bonny ground At the foot of Belly-hill, This house is easie to be found By whosoever will, For terme of life, or years, or dayes, Ile let this pleasant bowre, Nay 'rather than a tenant want Ile let it for an houre.

3.

About it growes a lofty Wood To shade you from the Sun, Well water'd 'tis, for thorow it, A pleasant stream doth run: If hot, you there may coole your selfe; If cold, you'le there finde hear; For greatest, 'tis not too little; For least, 'tis not too great.

4.

My house, I must confesse, 'tis dark Be it by night or day, But if you once be got therein You cannot misse your way; But when y••'re in, make boldly of As fast as are you can, But if you come to th' end thereof You come where nere did man.

5.

Thus if you like my Cunny-hall Your house-rent shall be good, For such a temper as you please, Burn neither coale nor wood; But if it rain, or freez, or snow, To speak I dare be bold, If you keep your nose within dore You nere shall be a cold.

I Am that lofty Swaine That never car'd to love None of Diana's traine Could ever my fancy move: Kad Cupit from above Could never conquer me, Since Peggy it is thee I love, And thy Captive I will be.

7.

Since Peggy it is sure That I doe love thee best, Then put aside delayes And grant me my request. Come good or evill hap, Come wealth or poverty, Ile set thee in my lap And Ile smuggle thee hand somly.

8.

Vlisses did commend Constant Penelope, Pigmalion lov'd his friend, Why may not I love thee? Though great Achilles was The God of Victory, He lov'd a Trojan Lasse And smuggl'd her handsomly.

9.

Though Vulcan (grim and black) Faire Venus did imbrace, Of him she thought no lack For all his dirty face: Though he were crook'•• d••kin, And Iglerd ore the eye, Yet Venus lov'd him well And he smuggl'd her handsomly.

Matheglin, ale, and beer, Plump clarret wine, and sherry Shall not be wanting here If'•• may but make thee merry: When ended is the feast With mirth and merry glee, I take thee to the bed And Il•• smuggle thee handsomely.