That for the Noble Name of Spark,
Dares his Companions Rally;
Commits an Out-rage in the Dark,
Then flinks into an Alley.

To every Female that he meets,
He Swears he bares Affection,
Defies all Laws, Arrests, and Fears,
By the help of a kind Protection.
Then he intending further Wrongs,
By fome refenting Cully,

Is decently run through the Lungs,
And there's an end of Buly.

Song.

A Gainft the Charms our Ballocks have,

How weak all Humane Skill is?

Since they can make a Man a Slave
To fuch a Bitch as Phillis.

Whom that I may describe throughout,
Affift me Bawdy Pow'rs,

I'll write upon a double Clout,
And dip my Pen in Flow'rs.
Her Look's demurely Impudent,
Ungainly Beautiful,

Her Modefty is Infolent,

Her Mirth is pert and dull.`

A Prostitute of all the Town,

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And vet with no Man Friends.

She Rails, and Scolds, when the lies down,

And Curfes when the Spends.

Bawdy

Bawdy in Thoughts, Precife in Words,
Ill Natur'd, and a Whore,
Her Belly is a Bag of Trds,

I

And her C's a Common-ficar.

Song.

Cannot change as others do,

Though you unjusty scorn,

Since that poor Swain, that fighs for you,

For you alone was born.

No Fbillis, no, your Heart to move,
A furer way I'll try,

And to revenge my flighted Love,

Will ftill Love on,will ftill Love on, and Die.

When Kill'd with Grief Amyntas lies,

And you to mind fhall call,
The Sighs that now unpity'd rife,

The Tears that vainly fall;
That welcome Hour that ends this fmart,
Will then begin your pain,

For fuch a faithful tender Heart

I

Can never break, can never break in vain.

The Mock Song.

Swive as well as others do,

I'm Young not yet Deform'd, My tender Heart fincere and true, Deferves not to be Scorn'd.

E 3

Why

Why Phillis then, why will you Swive
With Forty Lovere more?
Can i (faid the) with Nature strive,
Alas I am, alas Lam a Whore.
Were all my Body Larded o're,
With Darts of Love fo Thick,
That you might find in ev'ry Pore,
A well ftuck standing Prick:
Whilft yet mine Eyes alone were free,
My Heart wou'd never doubt,

In Am'rous Rage and Extafie,

To with thofe Eyes, to wish thofe Eyes fuckt out.

Actus Primus, Snone Prima.
Enter Tarfander and Swiveanthe.
The Scene.

A Bed-Chamber.

Tar. FOR standing Tarfes we kind Nature thank.
And yet Adore thofe Cunts that make
('em lank;
Unhappy Mortals! whofe fublimeft Joy,
Preys on it felf, and does it felf deftroy.

Swi. Do not thy Tarfe, Natures belt gift,defpife,
That Ct that made it fall, will make it rife,
Though it a while the Amorous Combat fhun,
And feems from mine, into thy Belly run;
Yet 'twill return, more vigorous, and more fierce
Than flaming Drunkard, when he's dy'd in Tierce,

It

It but retires, as loofing Gamfters do,
Till they have rais'd a Stock to play a new.
Tar. What pleasure has a Gamefter,if he knows,
When e're he plays, that he must always lose ?
Swi. What Pego lofes, 'twere a pain to keep,
We fay not that our Nights are loft in fleep;
What Pleasures we in those foft Wars employ,
We do not waft, but to the full enjoy. (Ex. Tar.

Enter Celia.

Cel Madam,methinks thofe fleepy Eyes declare, Too lately you have eas'd a Lovers Care; I fear you have with Intereft repaid,

Thofe eager thurfts, which at your Cunt he made. Swi. With force united, my foft Heart he storm'd, Like Age he doated, but like Youth perform'd. She that alone her Lover can withstand,

Is more than Woman, or he less than Man. (Ex.

The firft Letter from B. to Mr. E.
DReaming laft Night on Mrs. Farley

My Prick was up this Morning early;
And I was fain, without my Gown,
To rife i'th Cold, to get him down:
Hard fhift, alas! but yet a fure,
Although it be no pleafing Cure.
Of Old, the Fair Ægyptian Slattern,
For Luxury, that had no Pattern;
To Fortifie her Roman Swinger,
ftead of Nutmegs, Mace and Ginger,
E 4

Did

Did Spice his Bow'ls (as Story tells)
With Warts of Rocks, and Spawn of Shells.
It had been happy for her Grace,
Had I been in the Rafcal's place:

1 who do fcorn that any Stone,
Shou'd raife my Pintle, but my own;
Had laid her down on ev'ry Couch,
And fpar'd her Pearl and Diamond Brouch,
Until her Hot-tail'd Majefty,

Being happily reclaim'd by me,
From all her wild expenfive ways,
Had worn her Gems on Holy-Day's
But fince her Ct has long done itching,
Let us difcourfe of Modern Bitching.
I must intreat you by this Letter,
To enquire for Whores, the more the better:
Hunger makes any Man a Glutton,

If Roberts, Thomas, Mrs. Dutton,
Or any other Bawd of Note,
Inform of a fresh Petticoat;
Inquire I pray, with Friendly care,
Where there refpective Lodgings are,
Some do compare a Man t'a Bark,
A pretty Metaphor, pray mark,
And with a long and tedious ftory,
Will all the Tackling lay before ye
The Sails are Hope, the Mafts Defire,
Till they the gentleft Reader Tire.
But howfoe're they keep a pudder,
I'm fure the Pintle is the Rudder.
The pow'rful Rudder, whichof force,
To Town, must shortly steer my Course;

And