University of Virginia Library

A Faire Nimph scorning a Black Boy Courting her.

Nymph.
Stand off, and let me take the aire,
Why should the smoak pursue the faire?

Boy.
My face is smoak, thence may be guest
What flames within have scorch'd my brest.

Nymph.
The flame of love I cannot view,
For the dark Lanthorne of thy hue.

Boy.
And yet this Lanthorne keeps loves Taper
Surer then yours, that's of white paper.
Whatever Midnight hath been here,
The Moon-shine of your light can cleare.

Nymph.
My Moon of an Ecclipse is 'fraid,
If thou should'st interpose thy shade.

Boy.
Yet one thing (sweet-heart) I will ask,
Buy me for a new false Mask.

Nymph.
Yes: but my bargaine shall be this,
I'le throw my Maske off when I kiss.

Boy.
Our curl'd embraces shall delight
To checquer limbs with black, and white.

Nymph.
Thy inke, my paper, make me guesse,
Our Nuptiall bed will make a Presse;
And in our sports, if any came,
They'l read a wanton Epigram.

Boy.
Why should my Black thy love impaire?
Let the darke shop commend thy ware:
Or if thy love from black forbeares,
I'le strive to wash it of with teares.

Nymph.
Spare fruitless teares, since thou must needs
Still weare about thee mourning weeds:
Teares can no more affection win,
Then wash thy Æthiopian skin.