She's tall and flender,

She's foft and tender;
Some god commend her,
My wit's too low:
'Twere joyful plunder,
To bring her under;
She's all a wonder,
From top to toe.

Then ceafe, ye fages,
To quote dull pages,
That in all ages,

Our minds are free:
Tho' great your skill is,
So ftrong the will is,
My love for Phyllis
Muft ever be.

TH

The INFERENCE.

HE cares of lovers, their alarms,

Their fighs, their tears, have pow'rful charms:

And if fo fweet their torment is,

Ye gods! how ravishing the blifs!
So foft, fo gentle is their pain,
Tis ev'n a pleafure to complain.

The

I

The Diftrefs'd SHEPHERD.

Aм a poor fhepherd undone,

And cannot be cur'd by art, For a nymph as bright as the fun

Has ftole away my heart; And how to get it again There's none but fhe can tell,

To cure me of my pain,

By faying she loves me well;

And alas! poor hepherd, alack, and a well-a-day,
Before I was in love, oh! every month was May.

If to love fhe cou'd not incline,

I told her I'd die in an hour; To die, fays fhe, 'tis in thine,

But to love 'tis not in my power: I ask'd her the reason why

She cou'd not of me approve? She faid, "Twas a task too hard,

To give any reafon for love;

And alas! poor Shepherd, alack, and a well-a-day,
Before I was in love, oh! every month was May.

She

She ask'd me of my estate;
I told her a flock of sheep,
The grafs whereon they graze,
Where the and I might fleep,
Befides a good ten pound,

In old king Harry's groats;
With hooks and crooks abound,
And birds of fundry notes;

And alas! poor fhepherd, alack, and a well-a-day,
Before I was in love, oh! every month was May.

A"

Charming STREP HON.

H! Strephon, charming youth, forbear
Thy words of melting love;

Thy eyes thy language well may fpare, ·

One dart enough can move ;

Thro' every vein each glance like light'ning flies,

And all relief to yielding love denies.

Oh! ccafe with fighs to wound my foul,

Or prefs me with thy hand;

Who can the kindling fire controul,

The tender force withstand?

For fhe that hears thy voice, and fees thy eyes,
With too much pleasure, too much softness, dies.

The

A

The Provident DAMSEL.

s fidlers and archers, who cunningly know
The way to procure themselves merit,

Will always provide them two ftrings to their bow,
And manage their bus'ness with spirit:

So likewife the provident damfel fhou'd do,
Who wou'd make the beft ufe of her beauty:
If the mark fhe wou'd hit, or her leffon play through,
Two lovers muft ftill be on duty.

Thus arm'd against chance, and fecure of fupply,
Thus far our revenge we may carry:

One fpark, for our fport, we may jilt and fet by;
And t'other, poor foul! we may marry.

IN

The DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER.

N London town there liv'd, well known,
A doctor old and wary,

A daughter fair was all his care,
How to difpofe and marry:
This daughter, fhe, as all agree,
Was wond'rous neat and pretty:
Ye parents dear, I pray draw near,
And liften unto my ditty.

The

The doctor bent with full intent,
A country 'fquire fhou'd have her;
For he had pence inftead of fenfe,
Which gain'd this old man's favour;
The daughter fhe wou'd not agree ;
This was no match for Kitty :
Ye maidens all, too apt to fall,
Come liften unto my ditty.

A neighb'ring fpark, a lawyer's clerk,
This fair maid's heart obtain'd;
With love and truth, the gentle youth
All her affections gain'd:

The doctor he wou'd not agree,

Alas! and more the pity:
Ye lovers true, altho' but few,
Come liften unto my ditty.

The 'fquire addrefs'd, the doctor prefs'd,
But cou'd not bring her over;
She each defies, and both denies,
Nor will the lofe her lover:

The lover flew, when this he knew,

And runs away with Kitty:

Thus foon, my love, I hope to prove
The fact of this my ditty.

The