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EBBA 34488

Houghton Library - Huth EBB65H
Ballad XSLT Template
The Maids answer to the
Batchelors Ballad.
Or, Love without Remedy.
Thou Scriber! unto whom the Vulgar crew,
Gives small applause, yet more then is thy due;
Whose Brazen Brow, a wither'd Wreath adorns,
Which better wou'd become a pair of Horns:
Know we contemn thee: thy Malicious Pen
Can have no influence on the minds of men:
In our dispraise, in vain thou seek'st to write,
True, thou mayst shew thy teeth, but canst not bite.
Alas! rude Boy; Love is a generous pain,
Which minds ignoble, cannot entertain:
Therefore thy accusations are unjust,
In giving Love the Character of Lust.
With Allowance, By Ro. L'Estrange.
To the Tune of; No mores silly Cupid: Or,
The Duke of Monmouth's Jig.

WHo's here so ingenious
mispending his time,
In railing at Venus,
In hopes to disparage,
Love, Women, and marriage,
By pittiful rhime?
He thinks he's ingenious
and slyly the youngster intices;
But we easily find,
How the youth is inclin'd,
by his tricks and devices.

He plainly discovers
his amorous arts,
And calls 'em blind lovers,
Who after enjoyment,
can find new employment,
to fetter their hearts:
He plainly discovers
a nature so rude and ingrateful,
That after Compliance,
he bids us defiance,
and says we grow hateful.

Then who but an Harlot
would yield to the will
Of ev'ry such Varlet,
That loves at his leisure,
And onely takes pleasure,
in shewing his skill?
Sure none but an harlot,
would yield to the lustful persuasi-on,
of fellows in Shammy,
who onely cry Dam, me,
to serve their occasions.

The gawdy young Sinner,
whose blood is afire,
May fool a beginner,
and treat her with Coaches,
to mighty debauches,
and gain his desire:
Alas! for the Sinner,
that covets such sweetness as this is!
he seldom does fail,
of a sting in the tail,
with his wenches and Misses.

THis makes him look meager,
a wantoning Elf,
His mind is so eager
to humour his sences,
that by his expences,
he ruines himself:
This makes him so meager,
he's nothing but pox and diseases,
so after enjoying,
the pleasure is cloying,
and quickly displeases.

Then shew me the woman,
in City or Town,
Tho' never so common,
With such a lewd fellow,
so tawny and yellow,
will laugh and lye down:
For sure she's no Woman
that trades with a son for a Whore,
who having enjoy'd her,
will strait-way avoid her,
and see her no more.

The passionate Lover,
that's caught in his youth,
May plainly discover
that all his persuasions
are subtle evasions,
and far from the truth:
For he that's a Lover,
and courteth sincerely and truly,
may keep his affection
in civil subjection,
from being unruly.

But let the fond Bully,
his fancy employ,
He never can fully
or bring in suspition,
the sweets of fruition,
true lovers enjoy:
In spight of the Bully,
the pleasure of Conjugal kisses,
is always delightful
and far the more frightful,
of temporal blisses.

And yet for the Gallant,
we must not deny:
But that he's so valiant
as stoutly to threaten,
the girl shall be beaten,
that will not comply:
Beware of the Gallant!
I vow he's a desperate creature,
If any abuse him,
Or dare to refuse him,
he swears he will beat her.

Sir Fopling, your Servant!
the man's in a pett:
What makes you so fervent?
You burn in displeasure,
pray cool at your leisure:
that's all you will get:
Your Servant, Sir Fopling,
say all, and do more than you can sir,
still my opinion,
We shall have dominion,
take that for an answer.


Printed for P. Brooksby, the at Golden-ball near the Hospital-gate, in West-smith-field.

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