Come to it at last Or the succesful Adventurer.
A pleasant and delightful New Song.
In vain resistances when love designes
He by compulsion or complyance joyns,
Laughs at what e're opposes his decree
And what sayes must, that must surely be.
A pleasant new Tune,
Or, toll me Jenny.
TEll me
Jenny, tell me roundly,
when you will your Heart surrender:
Faith and troth ise love you soundly;
'tis I that was the first Pretender.
Ne'r say nay, nor delay,
here's my heart, and there's my hand too;
All that's mine shall be thine,
Body and Goods at your Command too.
Ah! how many Maids (quoth
Jenny)
have you promis'd to be true to?
Fy, I think the Devil's in you,
to kiss a body so as you do.
What do you do? let me go,
I can't abide such foolish doing;
Get you gone, naughty man,
[...]
Prithee
Jenny don't deny me;
whence this coyness? why these blushes?
Sure you use them but to try me,
and they suite not with your wishes:
Do not frown, but sit down
on this Primrose-Bed, my Sweeting,
And, my Love, this shall prove
to thee and me a happy meeting.
How many Maids (that have beleived
this, quoth
Jenny, as your meaning)
Have you heretofore deceived?
yet you think it is no sinning.
Fy; I say, stand away,
naughty Man, I hate such fooling:
Fy; O sad! I think you'r mad
[...]
'Tis unkind you thus deny me
when I tell you that I love ye;
Sit you down, and do but try me,
and you better will approve
[...]e:
Come my
Jenny, best of any
in your True-Loves Arm
[...] i'le place you;
Sigh not thus, but let's buss,
Love and
Hymen both shall grace you.
This (quoth
Jenny) is but your saying,
you men are false 'tis often prov'd, so
Poor Maids you long to be betraying;
O fy, I won't be lov'd so.
What d'ye do? let me go,
Fy, naughty man, Fy, let me loose:
Oh! bless me, how you press me,
I think you'r wild to hug one thus.
In your eyes I see a yeilding,
I prithee do not thus dissemble,
Nor your heart with doubt be sheilding,
but the queen of Love resemble:
See my Arms wait your charms,
and I must have no denial;
Say not nay, nor delay,
but of my passion make a tryal▪
What is it you wou'd be doing?
pish, I can no longer tarry;
Nay, forbear, is this your wooing?
avads I wo' not till I marry;
Nay, I won't, pray now don't,
Oh me! fy, nay tis evil;
Oh! what's this? I profess
you grow more and more uncivil.
The god of Love gives commission,
and these pleasant shades invite us;
Nay, you must grant my kind Petition,
since to love all things incite us:
My Dear Heart, do not start,
joys attend you, transports seize you;
Still to you i'le be true
in your Arms; thus ever please you.
Oh! you hurt me, nay, forbear now,
what d'ye do, you have betray'd me;
Oh! I'm ruin'd, and I fear now
you'r about for to un-Maid me;
Take your course, use your force,
kill me, kill me, if you please;
Nay ile dye willingly,
in this sweet Wrath I find such ea
[...]