Cupids Master-Piece.
A brief Description of true Love.
Instructions for Lovers: [...]eaching them, how to demean themselves towards their Sweet-hearts.
[...]Ou must not accost them with a shrug, as if you were lowsie: With, your Ladie, [...]et Ladie, or most super-excellent Ladie: [...]her must you let your words come rumb [...] forth, ushered in with a good full mouth'd, [...], as I love you: But you must speak the [...]-coming language of Love, I do not mean [...]e strange Pedantick phrases, used by some [...]ants who (aim at wit but make themselves [...]k asses by it) praise their Mistresses by the [...], Moon, or Stars; whilest the poor Girles [...]gine, they mean the signes their Mercers Perfumers live at. But you must in fine [...]l [...] words, deliver your true affection: praise [...] Mistress Eies, her Lip, her Chin, her [...]e, her Neck, her Face, her Hand, her [...]t, her Leg, her Waste, her every thing; [...] leave your Lillies and your Roses, for your [...]ntrie Froes to make Nosegaies with.
- Thoughts c Valued may B.
- Searching c Love may B.
A merry sportive and Delightful Discourse, between a young Gallant, and a curious conceited Lady.
LAdie, what think you of a handsome man now?
And a wholesome too, Sir.
That's as you make your bargain; a handsome, wholsome man then, and a kinde man, to chéer up your heart, and to lie close to you, to kéep you warm; and get two boyes at a birth.
Two at a birth, that's nothing Sir, I have known a Cobler, a poor thin Cobler, out of mouldy chéese, brown bread, and turnups, do as much as that: Me thinks a Gentleman should scorn to have a poor Mechanick Cobler out-do him.
What, then you would have me get two dozen at a birth, like Buttons.
You do well to brag Sir, but if you perform this at your marriage, then I will say you are a man indeed.
You are a merry Gentlewoman, and may make a good wife.
Not for you Sir, for then I may chance to get nothing: in what a state am I then Sir?
But for all this, I know you love to hear of a good husband.
You say true Sir, for by my troth I h [...]ve heard of none this ten years▪ they are so rare, that there are a great many longing women upon their knees, to pray for the dropping down of good husbands from heaven, because there's none upon earth.
But tel me Lady, can you love a man?
Yes, if the man be lovely, honest, and modest.
Then I am the man must make you a wife.
You make me a wife, no Sir no.
Ay a wife, a wife I say; you need not be ashamed on it, for its the best calling a woman can come to.
A grant it Sir, but I mean not to be your wife.
Not mine, I beleive it will be the best bargain thou wilt ever make in thy life.
Sir, I do beleive you look after wealth, and I mean to have one that will love and respect me for my vertues.
Wealth, yes by my troth, I must have lands, and Lordships too Lady.
Cry ye mercie Sir, I mistook you all this while, did not you say it was for love.
True, but there's two words to a bargain [Page] all the world over; and if love be one, I am sure money is the other, else its no bargain; pardon me Lady, I must dine as well as sup.
Then Sir you may trie your fortune, for I am resolved never to be your wife; and so farewel.
A Song for Maids.
A merry complemental woing between two jeering Lovers.
FAirest of all faires, will you eat a piece of Ginger-bread?
You might have more manne [...]s, or at [Page] least more civilitie, then to scoff at her that never injured you.
Scoff, nay, indeed I love you, I vow I burn in love like some peny Fagot.
St. Winitrid forbid it man may I beleive it?
Ay, and though I say it that should not, I am affected towards you strangely, there's some thing like thy self comes every night to my beds side.
And to me every morning, a voice utters these words; Matrimony, Matrimony.
Now do I shake all over, and doubt its some spirit that would join us.
Goodly great ones, may I beleive this also.
What not beleive, Ladie I am wholly and solely yours, yea, more then this; your servants, servant.
Now you contradict your self Sir, how can you be wholly mine, and yet my servants servant?
I do but complement in this Ladie: But if thou canst love me, I can love thee; law thee now, I am rich.
Sir, I look not after riches but the person, I must have one that can guide me, for I am foolish yet.
Now sée the luck of it Ladie, I am so too, but doubt not this noddle shall perform all I warrant. I am rich.
But riches create no love, by my virginitie, I fear you will flinch.
By my virginitie, which is as good as yours, I am sure by my virginitie, if we men have any such thing as we have, I wil not flinch.
Then for the tim [...] to come, you must not so much as cast a shée [...] eye after any woman but my self.
If I do at any time, then may I lose one of mine own eies, but ile keep the other however.
Well sir, ile take your word.
A Sonnet in praise and dispraise of Love.
A merry cross woing, betweeen Tom the Tailor, and Kate of the Kitchin.
GOod morrow Kate, for that I hear is your name.
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing, they call me Katherine that talk of me.
You lie in faith, for you are called plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst; but Kate take this of me for thy comfort, I am moved to woe thee for my wife.
Moved, in good time, let him that moved you hither remove you hence, I thought you were a moveable.
Why what's a moveable?
A Joint-stool.
Right, thou hast hit it; come sit on me then.
Sit on you I that I will, Asses were made to bear.
Come, come, what wil you be angry now, you wasp?
If I be a wasp, then thou hadst best beware of my sting, or else pluck it out.
What with my tongue in your tail; not so Kate, I am a Gentleman.
A Gentleman, what's your Coat of Arms pray you, a Cocks-comb?
No a come-less Cock, so Kate will be my Hen.
No Hen of yours Sir, you look so like a Cravven.
Nay but Kate, you must not look so sowr.
Sowr, its my fashion when I see a Crab, and so farewel.
The greeting of a Lover to his Dearest, after a long absence.
WElcome, my best beloved welcom, your sight is life's restorative to me, you are more welcome to me my dearest, then day to the world or rest to the wearied, or gold to the most covetous Miser in the world; such is the joy I finde in your happy company: So that this day seems to be a day of Iubilée unto me.
A brief Description of Women.
A pleasant Discourse between a Bridegroom and a Bride, on their Bridal night.
WIl you not come to bed my dear [...] why do you so delay? come let me help you.
To bed swéet-heart, why are you so sleepie?
No, but I shall be worse, if you loo [...] sad and melancholly; come prithee my dear l [...]t [...] to bed: why doest thou blush? let me undres [...] thee, be not coy, but smile.
Alas I feel my self not well my love.
Its onely bashfulness my dear, il [...] [Page] make you wel, there's no such phisick as you [...] husbands warm arms.
Be not so hastie my dearest, we stea [...] not our content, there's time enough.
Do you then already cease to love me▪
No think not so, for I do love the [...] dearly.
To bed then I shall give better credit to thee be not so cold a lover.
My passion's now over, and now m [...] dearest I hast to thy embraces.
Welcom my comfort and delight and thus I fold my arms about thee.
And thus about thee my dear bliss, I [...] twine like the female I vie.
Come then let me kiss thee, let m [...] kiss again and again, and multiply them to a [...] infinite increase.
Spare not, for they are thy own, dea [...] heart.
The gallant Sea-mans resolution concerning Marriage.
O What strange passions came on board m [...] that I should marry! was I drunk? Wh [...] to say truth what can I do at home now? what horrible thing would it be to have horns brough [...] me to Sea, to look as if the Devil were i [...] the Ship, and all the great Tempests woul [...] be thought to be of my raising, and should [...] [Page] the general course of all Merchants: and yet perhaps they are as deep in as my self, that's my comfort. O that a Seaman should live to be married, what need I to have been shackled thus with a wife, and be at charges to kéep her for other mens diets, well if I were once rid of this, I would never play the fool again.
One whose choise was either to be Hanged, or married.
Dick of the Country his woing of Jone of the Milk pail.
MY pretty Chicken how doest thou? how fares thy body? Didst not think me almost lost?
I gave thee for dead in good faith love, and was in the humour to marry another man.
Sure thou wast not, thou doest but jest I trow.
Truly I was, and could you blame me, [...]s it not a torture think you for a woman to stay [...]even years without a husband.
Me thinks my browes begin to bud already, they are very knotty; hast thou grafted a [...]y thing there? I suspect it shrewdly. How [...]omes your belly so big?
Its nothing but a Timpanie, I am troubled with.
Come you are a W [...]ore, ile have you before a Justice.
Spare me, I pray thee gentle Dick, and hearken to my counsel a little: since thou art a Cuckold (as I do not deny it) chuse whether thou wilt wear thy hor [...] on thy [...]re-head, for all men to see, or put them in th [...] pocket, and let no man see them.
Why then I am a Cuckold it seems: have not I travelled well, and to good purpose? but do so no more, and all is forgotten.
It is so, if you stay at home to kéep me warm, but if you leave me, have at your head thē.
The Praise, and Dispraise of Women.
The merry simple woing and winning of Jone of the Cream [...]ot, by a Country Farmer.
NAy stay, swéet Mistris Jone, here's none but one friend (as they say) desires to speak a cold word or two with you; how do you véel your self this frostie morning?
What have you to do to ask, I pray you? I am a cold.
It séems you are hot good Mrs. Jone.
You lie though, I am as cold as ice: feel else.
Nay you ha cooled my courage Jone, I am past, I ha done feeling with you.
Done with me, I do defie you so I do, to say you ha done with me.
O you mistake Jone, I mean not as you mean: no, bring but that Dog that wil say that I ever struck him, or any Cat in the town that will swear on a Book, that I have so much as set fire on their tailes.
Do you love me then John?
Love you, what need you question that, I sweat as ice, burning in love: well we wil be [...]
No haste John to hang true volk, soft fire makes sweet Malt:
Ile get my leather dublet new forbusht, and a pair of wisps to swaddle my legs, for we mu [...] dance on that day sure, and who can dance in Boots?
Even as you list good John, I am all yours, as they say.
A May Day Song.
To present a pair of Gloves.
An amorous Complement between a Young Man, and a beautiful Damzel.
SWéet Ladie, being wounded by your beautie, I acknowledge it a mercie if you kill me not.
Sir, though I am not guilty of offence, yet rather then I will be accounted a murtherer, I will studie to preserve so sweet a model as your self.
Fairest then I tel you, I must love you.
I see no necessitie that I should love you, yet I confess you are a proper man.
Prithee do not mock me, do but look in my heart, where you shall see what you cannot despise; there Love hath made you a throne [Page] to sit and rule, all my thoughts obeying and honouring you as their Queen.
But who can see this heart you boast of?
Alas it's easie for your eies to pierce into, but your frowns make it seem cold: But make it yours, and you shall see it spring, and and pay you in a full harvest of content: but mistake not, I say my heart is cold, not my love.
And yet your love is from your heart I warrant.
I say my heart is cold, but yet my heart is fervent still, besides my heart is not my own but yours, you have it; and while you have it, if you keep it not warm in your bosome, how can it but be cold?
Well Sir, notwithstanding your rhethorick, I shall without any art at all give you a final answer; Your sute is hopeless: And so farewel.
The Young Mans Sonnet.
Coridon and Phill [...]da, the Shepheard and the Shepheardess.
SHepheard why do you follow me thus?
How can I but follow sweet when my heart is with you.
With me, tell me then where and how I shall restore it.
It hangs upon your eies and being there scorcht with disdain▪ it flies for ease to your Rosie lips, but being beaten thence also by your harsh denials, fain would it come here for harbour; for pittie then (fair Nimph) receive it, and if you can, teach it the hardness of your own.
Well then if my heart be so hard as you make it, it glads me that its strong enough to be a fence to my honour.
What the sheep to be guarded, when there's no Woll neer?
Can the sheep he safe when there is a Dog of prey within, I cannot cherish in my breast, the man that would wrong my chastitie.
Then cherish me, who never attempted to cast the least spot on your white innocence.
The more fool you, perhaps if you had, it needed not to have come to this.
Yes, you may remember, although I [...]
Well Shepheard, look you never on me more, for I cannot love at all; or if at all, not you: let this suffice you.
O this distracts me more: but since my presence offends you, I must obey: but when I am dead the Martir of your beautie, if I thought you would shed one poor tear on my untimely grave, and say I was unfortunate, to love where I might not be loved again, my ashes would find rest: And farewel the fairest, but yet the cruellest Shepheardess alive.
The delicate woing between Oliver and Rebecca.
THou art a brave wench Rebecca, come kiss me: wilt thou be a Ladie?
Sir, I have no such ambition.
Ile buy thee a Parrat to morrow and a Monkey, here take this Ring.
Pray keep it, and let me tell you my minde.
And ile tell thee then, I know thou lovest me; and prithee tell me plainly, when shall we matrimonie it, I know thou dotest on my good parts, speak, dost not? prithee be not bashful.
Then know I do not love you.
Then I have lost all my labour.
I question not but it will appear so, for I must tell you the truth; I cannot love you: and let this suffice you.
This Song in her praise.
A Letter from a Home spun Lover.
DEarest Duckling, be it known unto you, and to all men; that I have pist bloud thrée daies and three nights since I last saw you, and received that unwomanly answer from you: blinde Cupid forgive you, for I am utterly undone by you.
Here followes their woing.
O Jug, how do I love thee?
Nay, thou knowest best, but I fear I shall never die with loving you.
No Jug, but I warrant thou wouldst if thou hadst but a bit of me.
Pray why should you think so? did you ever see me cast a sheeps eie at you? or did my nose bléed in your companie? And as she spake it bled.
How now Jug, who's in love now?
Not I upon my honestie, however you [...]