Song XVII., pp.266-267.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

MAiden fresh as a rose, 

Young, buxom, and full of jollity, 

Take no spouse among beaux, 

Fond of their raking quality; 

He who wears a long bush, 

All powder’d down from his pericrane, 

And with nose full of snush, 

Snuffles our love in a merry vein. 


Who, to dames of high place, 

Does prattle like any parrot too; 

Yet with doxies a brace 

At night pigs in a garret too; 

Patrimony out-run, 

To make a fine show to carry thee: 

Plainly, friend, thou’rt undone, 

If such a creature marry thee. 


Then for fear of a bribe, 

Of flattering noise and vanity, 

Yoak a lad of our tribe, 

He’ll shew the best humanity: 

Flashy thou wilt find love, 

In civil as well as secular; 

But when spirit doth move, 

We have a gift particular. 


Tho’ our graveness is pride, 

That boobys the more may venerate, 

He that gets a good bride, 

Can jump when he’s to generate: 

Off then goes the disguise, 

To bed in his arms he’ll carry thee; 

Then, to be happy and wise, 

Take yea and nay marry thee. 

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