Loves better then Gold: OR, MONEY's an Ass.
Come hear my Song, it does you all concern,
From it you may your own Misfortunes learn:
And yet' tis vain, as hereby I shall prove,
For want of Money to neglect your Love.
To a New Delightful Tune, much in request at Court.
WHy should friends and kindred gravely make thee,
Wrong thy self, and cruelly forsake me,
Be still my dearest Mistris, hang relations,
Loves above their dull considerations;
Let them live and want to heap up treasure,
Whilst that thee and I enjoy our pleasure.
He that seeks a Mistris in a portion.
Puts himself to use with damn'd extortion:
If he must be brib'd to copulation,
Pox upon his love, 'tis out of fashion:
Where we like, no matter where th' estate is.
'Tis not love except he shews it gratis.
How to see the Miser have I wondred,
Weighing out his passion by the hundred,
Ne'r consulting birth or education,
Vertue without wealth's but prophanation:
Be she old or ugly 'tis no matter,
So she is is but rich he'l venture at her.
Ioynture is a sordid lay invention,
Quite beside our nature and intention:
When we would agree it makes resistance,
Finding tricks to keep us at a distance:
Then who poorly makes a new election,
Suffers wealth to Cuckold his affection.
SOuls are free and shou'd not be confin'd to,
Objects which the fancy has no mind to,
When a pretty female I importune?
Shall I lose her for her want of fortune?
'Tis a folly, sordid, and inhumane,
Thus to sell the pleasures of a woman.
More to me the pleasing of my mind is,
Than the far-fetcht wealth of both the
Indies,
I've a soul above those drossy treasures,
Love does yield more sweet and lasting pleasures,
Such a joy as nothing can destroy it,
None desribe it but they do injoy it.
Yet the low-soul'd wretch may have his fancy,
I can value nothing but my
Nancy:
She that has an eye so black and sprightful,
And a place I name not more delightful?
Such a mine as greater wealth affordeth,
That the wretched worldling ever hoardeth.
Rows of brightest and of shining pearls are,
Not so oriental as my girls are,
Rubies touch her lips, and gain more lustre,
Looking redder when that they have bust her,
Her red cheeks so fair she need not patch it,
There's none but the other cheek can match it:
Then for humour, wit and conversation,
Nothing can be like her in the Nation,
Always lively, airy, brisk and jolly,
Free from studied pride, and Melancholly?
Such she is, and her I love more dearly,
than the dame that has her thousands yearly.
There you cringe and make your best addresses,
But alass she likes not your caresses;
Speak and Bow as well as e're you can Sir,
Ten to one if e're you get an answer:
When you'r gone she crys a sawcy fellow,
Come to me without his white and yellow,
He that can and will this hag may marry,
But for me the jade is like to tarry;
Let her live till lust and age do grieve her,
Till she call her Money to releive her;
May she covet Husbands without measure.
Always wish, but know not of her pleasure.
Still my girl and I will love each other,
Want of wealth shall ne'r my passon smother
Were she rich I could not love her better,
Were she poor I wou'd ne'r defeat her:
VVhatsoever I have I must confess it,
She deserves, and therefore shall possess it.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Hospital-gate, in West-smithfield.