VVit and drollery,: joviall poems. Never before printed. / By Sir J.M. Ja:S. Sir W.D. J.D. and other admirable wits.

A Song.

1.

SHe lay all naked in her bed, And I my selfe lay by; No Vail but Curtaines about her spread, No covering but I. Her head upon her shoulder seeks, To hang in carelesse wise, All full of blushes was her cheeks, And of wishes were her eyes.

2.

The blood still fresh into her face, As on a message came, To say that in another place, It meant another game. Her cherry lips, moist, plump and faire, Millions of kisses crown, Which ripe and uncropt dangled there, And weigh the branches down.

3.

Her Breasts that swell'd so plump and high, Bred pleasant pain in me, For all the world I doe defie, The like felicity. Her thighs and belly soft and faire, To me were onely shewn, To have seen such meat, and not to have eat, Would have angred any stone.

4.

Her knees lay upward gently bent, And all lay hollow under, As if on easie termes they meant, To fall unforc't asunder. Just so the Cyprian Queen did lye, Expecting in her Bower; When too long stay, had kept the boy, Beyond his promised houre.

5.

Dull clown, quoth she, why dost delay Such proffered blisse to take? Can'st thou finde out no other way Similitude to make? Mad with delight I thundering, Threw my Armes about her, But pox upon't 'twas but a dream, And so I lay without her.

6.

She lay up to the Navel bare, As was a willing Lover, Expecting between hope and feare, Wh••…••… I would come and cover Her hand beneath my wast-band slips, To grope in busie wise, Which caused a trembling in her lips, And a trembling in her eyes.

7.

The blood out of her face did goe, As it on service went, To second what was gone before, When all its strength was spent. Her Cheeks and Lips as Corall redd, Like Roses were full blown: Which fading streight, the leaves were spread, And so the seed comes downe.

8.

Her breasts that then both panting were, Such comfort wrought between us, That all the world I dare to sweare, Would envy to have seen us. Her belly and its provinder, For me was kept in store; Such newes to hear, and not to have share, Would have made a man a Whore.

9.

Her Legs were girt about my waste, My hand under her Crupper, As who should say now break your face, And come againe to supper. Even as the God of Warre did knock, As any other man will, For hast of worke, till twelve of clock, Kept Vulcan at his Anvill.

10.

Mad wag, quoth she, why dost thou make Such haste thy selfe to reare? Canst thou not know that for thy sake, The Faire lasts all the yeare? Quiet and calme as are loves streames, I threw my selfe about her, But apox upon true jests and dreames, I had better have laine without her.