SONG XXXVIII.
[You! that can dye some thirteen times, a day]
1
You! that can dye some thirteen times, a day
At every paltry Ladies Frown!
Deny your selves, when she sayes Nay,
And be more hers, then Y'are your Own;
I will informe you, of a way,
More safe (although less common known)
Shal bring the work about, for half a Crown.
2
Wouldst have a colour'd Beauty, dy'd in grain
In-laid with Art's and Nature's store,
Fresh, as a Summers Evening Rain,
Soft, as the Down that Leda bore
Thy wish (unwoo'd) thou shalt obtain,
What matter, though she be a Whore!
Shee'l do, thy do, as well, what wouldst thou more!
3
Try this, and Trust me for a Trick of Love,
There comes no Woe, where Women Woe
Here, presently, Y'are Hand and Glove:
She's handsome that will handsome Do.
Will not this more, then Coyness move?
The nicest, is but Woman too
Perhaps unchast, or faith! I'de make her so.
4
Then, who would lacquey at a woman's will:
Dogging her close, (as she went prou'd!)
Kyb'd to her heeles, yet jealous, still
His services, are dis-allow'd!
Vexing his thoughts, her's to fullfil
With Heart, e'ne broke, Knees, ever bowd
To one, that cannot shine, but through a Cloud?
5
'Tis folly, to besiege, an intrencht Dame,
Wood-stockt with Honour, Conscience, Fear,
When thousands render up the same,
(On easier terms) thou seekst for there:
The thing's all one, but for the Name,
Then, which is best a Prize, bought Dear,
Or what, is freely purchas'd every where?
