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No Grape that's kindly ripe, could be 30 round, fo plump, so soft as she,

Not half fo full of Juice.

Her Finger was fo fmall, the Ring
Would not ftay on which they did bring.
It was too wide a Peck:

And to fay truth (for out it must)
It look'd like the great Collar (juft)

About our young Colt's Neck.

Her Feet beneath her Petticoat,
Like little Mice ftole in and out,

As if they fear'd the Light:

But oh! the dances fuch a way!
No Sun upon an Eafter-Day,

Is half fo fine a Sight.

He would have kifs'd her once or twice,
But she would not, fhe was fo nice,

She would not do't in Sight;

And then the look'd as who should fay

I will do what I lift to Day;

And you shall do't at Night.

Her Cheeks fo rare a white was on,

No Dazy makes Comparison,

(Who fees them is undone)

For Streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Katherine Pear,

The Side that's next the Sun
Her Lips were red, and one was thin
Compar'd to that was next her Chin,

Some Bee had ftung it newly. But (Dick) her Eyes fo guard her Face, 1 durft no more upon them gaze,

Than on the Sun in July.

Her Mouth fo fmall when the does fpeak, Thou'dft fwear her Teeth her Words did break, That they might Paffage get,

But fhe fo handled ftill the Matter,

They came as good as ours, or better,

And are not spent a whit,

If wishing should be any Sin,
The Parfon himself had guilty been,

She look'd that Day fo purely:

And did the Youth fo oft the Feat
At Night, as fome did in Conceit,

It would have spoil'd him, furely.

Paffion o' me! how I run on!

There's that that wou'd be thought upon,
I trow; befides the Bride.

The Bus'ness of the Kitchin's great,

For it is fit that Men fhould eat ;

Nor was it there deny'd.

Juft in the nick the Cook knock'd thrice,
And all the Waiters in a trice

His Summons did obey.

Each ferving-Man with Dish in Hand,
March'd boldly up, like our train'd Band,
Prefented and away.

When all the Meat was on the Table,
What Man of Knife, or Teeth, was able
To ftay to be intreated?

And this the very Reason was,

Before the Parfon could fay Grace,

The Company was feated.

Now Hats fly off, and Youths carouse;
Healths firft go round, and then the House,

The Bride's came thick and thick;

And when 'twas nam'd anothers Health,

Perhaps he made it hers by ftealth,

And who could help it, Dick?

O'th' fudden up they rife and dance;
Then fit again, and figh and glance:

Then dance again and kiss.
Thus fev'ral Ways the time did pass,
Whilft ev'ry Woman wifh'd her Place,
And ev'ry Man wish'd his.

By this time all were ftoln afide
To counsel and undrefs the Bride;

But that he must not know;

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But yet 'twas thought he gueft her Mind,
And did not mean to ftay behind

Above an Hour or fo.

When in he came (Dick) there fhe lay,
Like new-faln Snow melting away,

'Twas time, I trow, to part.

Kiffes were now the.only ftay,
Which foon the gave, as who would fay,

Good bw'y, with all my Heart,
But just as Heav'n would have to cross it,
In came the Bride-Maids with the Poffet :
The Bridegroom eat in fpight;

For had he left the Women to't,
It wou'd have coft two Hours to do't,

Which were too much that Night, At length the Candles out; and now, All that they had not done, they do :

What that is, who can tell?

But I believe it was no more

Than thou and I have done before

With Bridget and with Nell.

The Nymph complaining for the death of her Fawn.

By Andrew Marvell, Efq;

HE wanton Troopers riding by

die.

Ungentle men! They cannot thrive
That kill'd thee., Thou ne'er didft alive
Them any harm: Alas nor could
Thy death yet do them any good.
I'm fure I never wifht them ill;
Nor do I for all this; nor will;

But, if my fimple Pray'rs may yet
Prevail with Heaven to forget

Thy murder,

will join my Tears

Rather than fail.

But, O my Fears!

It cannot die fo.

Heaven's King

Keeps regifter of every thing:
And nothing may we use in vain,
Ev'n Beafts must be with juftice flain.
Unconftant Sylvio, when yet

I had not found him counterfeit,
One Morning (I remember well)
Ty'd in this filver Chain and Bell,
Gave it to me: nay and I know
What he said then; I'm fure I do.
Said he, look how your Huntsman here
Hath taught a Fawn to hunt his Dear.
But Sylvio foon had me beguil❜d.
This waxed tame, while he grew wild,
And, quite regardless of my Smart,
Left me his Fawn, but took his Heart,
Thenceforth I fet my self to play
My folitary time away,

With this: and very well content,
Could fo mine idle Life have fpent.
For it was full of fport; and light
Of foot, and heart; and did invite
Me to its game: it feem'd to bless
Its felf in me.. How could I lefs.
Than love it? O I cannot be
Unkind t'a Beaft that loveth me..

Had it liv'd long, I do not know
Whether it too might have done fo
As Sylvio did, his Gifts might be
Perhaps as falfe, or more than he
But I am fure, for ought that I
Could in fo fhort a time espy,
Thy Love was far more better than
The love of falfe and cruel man,

With fweeteft milk, and fugar, first
I it at mine own fingers nurft.
And as it grew; so every day

It wax'd more white and fweet than they,.
It had fo fweet a Breath! And oft

I blusht to fee its foot more foft,
And white, fhall I fay than my hand?
NAY any Ladies of the Land.
It is a wond'rous thing, how fleet
'Twas on thofe little filver feet.
With what a pretty skipping grace,
It oft would challenge me the Race:
And when 'thad left me far away,
'Twould stay, and run again, and stay.
For it was nimbler much than Hinds;
And trod, as if on the four Winds..
I have a Garden of my own,
But fo with Rofes over grown,
And Lillies, that you would it guess
To be a little Wildernefs.

And all the Spring time of the year
It only loved to be there.

Among the beds of Lillies I

Have fought it oft, where it should lye :
Yet could not, 'till it felf would rife,
Find it, although before mine Eyes..
For, in the flaxen Lillies fhade,
It like a bank of Lillies laid.
Upon the Rofes it would feed,
Until its Lips ev'n feem'd to bleed:
And then to me 'twould boldly trip,
And print those Roses on my Lip.
But all its chief delight was ftill
On Roses thus its felf to fill:`
And its pure virgin Limbs to fold
In whiteft fheets of Lillies cold.
Had it liv'd long, it would have been
Lillies without, Rofes within,

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