SONG VIII.
[Madam, Y'are not the first I've Lov'd]
1
Madam, Y'are not the first I've Lov'd
Nor shall you be the last,
Tis ten to one, but I have prov'd
As fair (perhaps as chast.)
2
And yet, to tell the pains I've lost,
Their humour still was such,
'Tis true, a little time they'd cost;
But faith, it was not much!
3
I ne're remember that I spent
Above a month, or so,
To Win a Girle with Complement,
And there's the most a do.
4
No! I have got the trick on't now,
And troth! I dare a verre,
I could do her as well as you,
And you assoon as her.
5
Then pry'thee! Love! be coy no more!
Smooth off, and be not rough,
Say but thou never didest before,
And then 'tis well enough.
6
None e're shall know what we have done,
I'le pass my promise for't,
Only be quick, and let's be gone
And there's and end oth' sport.