Wit and drollery joviall poems / corrected and much amended, with new additions, by Sir J.M. ... Sir W.D. ... and the most refined wits of the age.

In praise of his Mistrisses beauty.

1.

I Have the fairest non-perel, The fairest that ever was seen, And had not Venus been in the way, She had been beauties Queen.

2.

Her lovely looks, her comly grace, I will describe at large; God Cupid put her in his books, And of this Jem took charge.

3.

The Graecian Hellen was a Moore, Compar'd to my dear Saint, And fair fac'd Hyrens beauty poor, And yet she doth not paint.

4.

Andromeda whom Perseus lov'd Was foule were she in sight, Her lineaments so well approv'd, In praise of her I'le write.

5.

Her haire not like the golden wire, But black as any Crow, Her browes so beetl'd all admire, Her forehead wondrous low.

6.

Her squinting staring gogling eyes, Poor Children doe affright, Her nose is of the sarasens size; Oh she's a matchless wight.

7.

Her Oven-mouth wide open stands, And teeth like rotten pease, Her Swan-like neck my heart commands, And brests all bit with Fleas.

8.

Her tawny dugs like too great hills, Hang Sow-like to her wast, Her body huge like two wind-mills, And yet she's wondrous chast.

9.

Her shoulders of so large a breadth, Shee'd make an excellent Porter And yet her belly caries most, If any man could sort her.

10.

No Shoulder of Mutton like her hand, For broadness, thick and fat, With a pocky Mange upon her wrist; Oh Iove! how love I that?

11.

Her belly Tun-like to behold, Her bush doth all excel, The thing that by all men extol'd, Is wider then a well.

12.

Her brawny buttocks plump and round, Much like a Horse of Warre, With speckled thighs, scab'd and Scarce sound; Her knees like bakers are.

13.

Her leggs are like the Elephants, The Calfe and small both one, Her anckles they together meet, And still knock bone to bone.

14.

Her pretty feet not 'bove fifteens, So splay'd as never was, An excellent Usher for a man That walks the dewy grass.

15.

Thus have you heard my Mistriss prais'd, And yet no flattery us'd, Pray tell me, is she not of worth? Let her not be abus'd.

16.

If any to her have a minde, He doth me woundrous wrong For as she's Beautious so she's Chast, And thus conclude my Song.