You fondly court your blifs,

And no advances make ; 'Tis not for maids to kifs,

But 'tis for men to take:

So you may kiss me kindly,

And I will not rebel, Thirfis may kifs me kindly, Kindly fill and kindly ;But never kifs and tell.

ALTERNATIVE.

And may I kiss you kindly?
Yes you may kifs me kindly.
And kindly ftill and kindly?
And kindly ftill and kindly.

U 3/

And

20

And will you not rebel?

And I will not rebel.

Then, love, I'll kiss thee kindly,
Kindly ftill and kindly,
But never kifs and tell.

A

SONG X.

H! bright Belinda, hither fly,
And fuch a light discover,
As may the abfent fun fupply,
And chear the drooping lover.

Arife, my day, with fpeed arife,
And all my forrows banish:
Before the fun of thy bright eyes,
All gloomy terrors vanish.

No longer let me figh in vain,
And curfe the hoarded treasure :
Why should you love to give us pain,
When you were made for pleasure ?

The petty powers of hell deftroy;
To fave's the pride of heaven:
Το you the firft, if you prove coy;
If kind, the laft is given.

'The choice then fure's not hard to make,
Betwixt a good and evil :
Which title had you rather take,

My goddess, or, my devil?

F

SONG XI.

IE! Liza, fcorn the little arts
Which meaner beauties ufe,

Who think they ne'er fecure cur hearts,
Unless they fill refuse ;

Are

Are coy and fhy; will feem to frown,
To raife our paffion higher;
But when the poor delight is known,
It quickly palls defire.

Come let's not trifle time away,
Or ftop you know not why;
Your blushes and your eyes betray
What death you mean to die!
Let all your maiden fears be gone,
And love no more be croft:
Ah! Liza, when the joys are known,
You'll curfe the minutes paft.

B

SONG XII.

charms :

E wary, my Celia, when Celadon fues,
Thefe wits are the bane of your
Beauty, play'd against reafon, will certainly lose,
Warring naked with robbers in arms.

Young Damon despis'd for his plainnefs of parts,
Has worth that a woman would prize;
He'll run the race out, tho' he heavily ftarts,
And distance the fhort-winded wife.

Your fool is a faint in the temple of love,
And kneels all his life there to pray;

Your wit but looks in, and makes hafte to remove, 'Tis a ftage he but takes in his way.

Stella

SONG XIII.

Tella and Flavia, every hour,
Do various hearts furprise;

In Stella's foul lies all her power,
And Flavia's in her eyes.

More boundless Flavia's conquefts are,

And Stella's more confin'd:

All can difcern a face that's fair,

But few a lovely mind."

Stell

Stella, like Britain's monarch, reigns
O'er cultivated lands;

Like eastern tyrants, Flavia deigns

To rule o'er barren fands.

Then boaft, fair Flavia, boaft thy face,
Thy beauty's only store :
Thy charms will every day decrease,
Each day gives Stella more.

SONG XIV.

There's none like pretty Sally ;.

She is the darling of my heart,
And the lives in our alley.
There is no lady in the land
Is half fo fweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And the lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage nets,
And through the streets does cry
Her mother the fells laces long,
To fuch as pleafe to buy 'em :
But fure fuch folks cou'd ne'er beget
So fweet a girl as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And the lives in our alley.

'em ;

And

And that's the day that comes betwixt
The Saturday and Monday.

For then I'm dreft in all my befst,
To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

My mafter carries me to church,
And often am I blamed,
Becaufe I leave him in the lurch,
As foon as text is named:

I leave the church in fermon-time,
And flink away with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again,

O! then I fhall have money;

I'll hoard it up and box it all,
And give it to my honey:

And wou'd it were ten thousand pound,
I'd give it all to Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And the lives in our alley.

My mafter, and the neighbours all,
Make game of me and Sally;
And (but for her) I'd better be

A flave and row a galley;

But when my seven long years are out,
O! then I'll marry Sally,

O! then we'll wed, and then we'll bed,

But ay not in our alley.

SONG XV.

Ould you have a young virgin of fifteen years.?

Ever toying and playing, and fweetly sweetly

Sing a love-fonnet, and charm her ears;

Wittily,