4.

Quoth she [,] I do intreat you

For to take the pain

To do so much for me,

As to tye it up again.

That will I do sweet-heart, quoth he,

When I come on yonder plain.

With a down, down, derry down, &c.

5.

And when they came upon the plain

Upon a pleasant green,

The fair maid spread her 1...s abroad,

The young man fell between,

Such tying of a Garter

I think was never seen.

To fall down, &c.

6.

When they had done their businesse,

And quickly done the deed,
He gave her kisses plenty,
Aed took her up with speed.
But what they did I know not,
But they were both agreed

To fall down together, down
Down, down, derry down,
Down, down, derry dina.

She

7.

She made to him low curtsies

And thankt him for his paine,

The young man is to High-gate gone [,]
The maid to London came

To sell off her commodity

She thought it for no shame.
To fall downe, &c.

8.

When she had done her market,

And all her money told

To think upon the matter

It made her heart full cold [:]

But that which will away, quoth she,

Poets that have not wealth in wisht excesse,

I hope may give like Priests, which is to blesse.
And sure in elder times the Poets were

Those Priests that told men how to hope and feare,
Though they most sensually did write and live,
Yet taught those blessings, which the Gods did give,
But you (my King) have purify'd our flame,
Made wit our virtue which was once our shame;
For by your own quick fires you made ours last,
Reform'd our numbers till our songs grew chast.
Farre more thou fam'd Augustus ere could doe
With's wisdome, (though it long continued too)
You have perform'd even in your Moon of age;
Refin'd to Lectures, Playes, to Schooles a stage.
Such vertue got [,] why is your Poet lesse

A Priest then his who had a power to blesse?

So hopefull is my rage that I begin

To shew that feare which strives to keep it in :
And what was meant a blessing soars so high
That it is now become a Prophesie.

Your selfe (our Plannet which renewes our year)
Shall so inlighten all, and every where,

That through the Mists of error men shall spy
In the dark North the way to Loyalty ;
Whilst with your intellectuall beames, you show
The knowing what they are that seeme to know.
You like our Sacred and indulgent Lord,
When the too-stout Apostle drew his sword,
When he mistooke some secrets of the cause,
And in his furious zeale disdain'd the Lawes,
Forgetting true Religion doth lye

On prayers, not swords against authority.
You like our substitute of horrid fate
That are next him we most should imitate,
Shall like to him rebuke with wiser breath,

Such furious zeale, but not reveng'd with death. Like him the wound that's giv'n you strait shall heal, Then calm by precept such mistaking zeal.

I

Emptif.

Love thee for thy curled haire,
As red as any Fox,

Our forefathers did still commend
The lovely golden locks.

Venus her self might comelier be,

Yet hath no such variety.

2.

I love thee for thy squinting eyes,
It breeds no jealousie,

For when thou do'st on others look,
Methinks thou look'st on me,
Venus her self, &c.

3.

I love thee for thy copper nose,
Thy fortune's ne're the worse,
It shews the mettal in thy face
Thou should'st have in thy purse,
Venus her self, &c.

4.

I love thee for thy Chessenut skin,
Thy inside's white to me,

That colour should be most approv'd,
That will least changed be.

Venus her self, &c.

5.

I love thee for thy splay mouth,
For on that amarous close

There's room on either side to kisse,
And ne're offend the nose.

Venus her self, &c.

6.

I love thee for thy rotten gummes,
In good time it may hap,
When other wives are costly fed,

Ile keep thy chaps on pap.
Venus her self, &c.

I