The Counterfeit Court Lady: OR, An Answer to, Your Humble Servant Madam.
Discovering all her cunning Knacks and feats,
How wittily she doth bestow her Cheats:
By which she doth much admiration gain,
And in a splendid Garb her self maintain.
To the Tune of,
Your Humble servant Madam.
I A am a Lass
That doth surpass,
the beauties of the City;
And near the Court,
Where Blades resort,
i'm counted wondrous witty:
I have an oyly Tongue,
And very well it's hung,
if that you will believe me;
Your flattering disease,
My humour cannot please,
for there's none that can deceive me
No vapouring Cheat,
Shall do the feat,
with such a Girl as I am;
I'le sit and smile,
And him beguile,
and all his Oaths defie 'um:
He that will cog and lye,
Gains not my company,
when once his plot I faddam;
For I scorn that any man,
Should ever me trappan,
with your humble servant Madam.
The Second Part,
To the same Tune.
AT my first Rise,
I was so wise,
to gain a great mans favour;
And by my art,
I won his heart,
all by my brisk behaviour:
VVhere I had Gold at will,
My mind for to fulfil,
he willing was to grant it;
But though that he is gone,
And I am left alone,
I never fear to want it.
My Rich attire,
Made all admire,
and by what means I gain'd it;
I have a knack,
To drink good Sack,
and bravely to maintain it;
VVith my Pearl about my neck,
And my Gallants at a beck,
I us'd to drein their Purses;
Before they will not grant,
VVhatever I do want,
they'l sell both Coach and Horses.
To train up youth,
I speak the truth,
upon my Reputation;
I do excell,
And do it well,
as any in the Nation:
If I may gain their gold,
I'le make them free and bold,
there's none that shall out-vie them,
For all the art of Love,
You shall of them approve,
when e're you please to try them.
Young Ladies they
Observe my way,
they think I am a neat one;
If I do glance,
Or Sing, or Dance,
I am a most compleat one.
Though my breeding was not great,
Yet I have learnt the feat,
for to delude a Sinner;
To sit upon his Lap,
And catch him in a trap,
for I am no young beginner.
How happy he
Is thought to be,
that by his comely carriage,
Hath got the Art,
To win my heart,
and treat with me of Marriage:
VVhen I seem to comply,
He knows no reason why,
but that he may believe me;
Thus I get Diamond Rings,
And many pritty things,
for none could e're deceive me.
Thus with my wit,
Great benefit,
and Riches I have gotten;
VVhich I in store,
Keep for the Poor,
when I am dead and rotten:
He shall be paid full well,
That Rings my Passing-Bell,
and digs my Grave a fadam,
Then all that can be said,
Here lies one Buried,
that was a Ranting Madam.
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke.