Sir, Ize fee ye are proud-hearted, and leath to be faid nay, You need not tall ha ftarted, for aught that Ize ded fay; You know Women for Modeftie, ne at the first time boo, But, gif we like your Company, we are as kind as you. SONG LXXII. My dear Cock, &ç. Y dear Cock adoodle, MY My Jewel, my Joy; My Darling, my Honey, With foft Lul-la-by ; To kifs, kifs, kifs, kiss, kifs, kiss. And thy right Roman Nofe: That lie under thy Clothes; To make thee grow quickly, I'll feed thee, I'll ftroke thee, 'I'll make thee a Man: "Ah! then how the Laffes, And when in due Seafon My Billy fhall wed; And lead a young Lady From Church to the Bed: A welfare the lofing Of her Maidenhead, Then welfare high Forehead, That lie under the Clothes; To kifs, kifs, &c. SONG LXXIII. Virgins, if e'er, &c. Irgins, if e'er at length it prove Pray with me fuch a Fate: May Wit and Prudence be my Guide, Virgins, if e'er I am in Love, Pray with me fuch a Fate. Such Stateliness I mean, as may Keep naufeous Fools and Fops, and Fops away, But ftill oblige the wife: That may fecure my Modefty, And Guardian to my Honour be, When Paffion does arife. Virgins, if e'er 1 am in Love, &c. When firft a Lover I commence, May it be with a Man, a Man of Senfe, May all his Courtship eafy be, May his Eftate agree with mine, Grant me all this that I have said, SONG LXXIV. Packington's Pound. ET Wine turn a Spark, and Ale huff likę a Hector, LE Let Pluto drink Coffee, and Jove his rich Nectar. Shall more make me drunk, which the vulgar call merry: Thefe Drinks o'er my Fancy no more fhall pre vail, But I'll take a full Sup at the merry Milk-pail. In Praise of a Dairy I purpose to fing, But all Things in order first, God fave the King; That ev'ry May-day, And the Queen I may fay, Has many fair Dairy-Maids, all fine and gay : Affift me fair Damfels, to finish this Theme, And infpire my Fancy with Strawberries and Cream. The firft of fair Dairy-Maids, if you'll believe, Was Adam's own Wife, your Great-Grand-mo ther Eve; She milk'd many a Cow, Tho' Butter was then not fo cheap as 'tis now; In that Age or Time there was no damn'd Mo» ney, Yet the Children of Ifrael fed upon Milk and Honey No Queen you could fee But would milk the brown Cow with the meanest the: Ther Lambs gave them Clothing, their Cows gave them Meat, In a plentiful Peace all their Joys were compleat. But now of the making of Cheefe we shall treat, That Nurfer of Subjects, bold Britain's chief Meat; When they first begin it, To fee how the Rennet Begets the firft Curd, you wou'd wonder what's in it: Then from the blue Whey, when they put the They look just like Amber, or Clouds in the Sky, Ill Vapours it drains, And tho' your Guts rumble 'twill ne'er hurt your Brains. Court Ladies i' th' Morning will drink a whole Pottle; And send out their Pages with Tankard and Bot tle. Thou Daughter of Milk, and Mother of Butter, Sweet Cream, thy due Praises how fhall I now utter? For when at the best, A Thing's well expreft, We are apt to reply, that's the Cream of the Jeft: That remains of the Cream, Old Morpheus ne'er tafted fo fweet in a Dream : E're it goes in the Belly, Must have both good Milk, and the Cream and the Jelly: For dainty fine Pudding without Cream, or Milk, Is like a Citizen's Wife without Sattin or Silk. In the Virtue of Milk there's more to be mufter'd, The charming Delights of Cheese-Cakes and Cuftard; For the Tottenham Court, You can have no Sport, Unless you give Custards and good Cheese-Cakes for't: 、 And what's Jack Pudding that makes us te laugh, Unless he hath got a great Custard to quaff. Both Pancakes and Fritters of Milk have good Store, But a Devonshire Vhite-pot requires much more; No State you can think, Tho' you ftudy and wink, From the lufty Sack-poffet to poor Poffet-drink; But Milk's the Ingredient, tho' Sack's ne'er the worse, For 'tis Sack makes the Man, tho' Milk makes the Nurfe. But now I fhall treat of a Dish that is cool, Not far off did dwell, Made her Hufband a Fool, and yet pleas'd him full well: |