She'll then begin to tremble:
But take her and rouze her,
And mouse her and touse her,
You’ll find she doth dissemble.
Now Mistress Bride, this much to you,
The item I shall give is true,
Young maidens must not be too coy,
To entertain their wish’d for joy,
But take him and hug him,
And tug him and lug him,
For thus true love is try’d,
Be not nice in yielding
But loving and willing
To grant him what must not be deny'd.
A NEW PLAY-HOUSE SONG.
SWEET are the charms of her I love,
More fragrant than the blooming rose,
Soft as the down or turtle dove:
Gentle as wind when zephyr blows:
Refreshing as descending rains,
To sun-burnt climes, and thirsty plains.
True as the needle to the pole,
Or as the dial to the sun,
Constant as gliding waters roll,
Whose swelling tide obeys the moon:
From every other charmer free,
My life and love shall follow thee.
The lamb that flow’ry thyme devours,
The tender dame, the kid pursues:
Sweet Philomel in shady bowers,
O verdant springs her noise renews;
Each follows what they most require,
So I pursue my heart’s desire.
