_In the Window of a Coffee-House at _Richmond_._
My _Chloe_ is an Angel bright, But _Chloe_'s common----so is Light. And who with _Phoebus_ Fault shall find, Because his Beams to all are kind.
_Nanny Meadowes_ has undone me, From myself her Charms have won me. With Love's blazing Flames I die, Whither, whither shall I fly!
Prithee, Coxcomb, without Whining, Say thou hast a mind to Sinning With a Guinea, do but ask her, Love you'll find----is no hard Task, Sir.
_On a long-winded Preacher at _Coventry_: From a Window there._
Twelve Minutes, and one tedious Hour _Mills_ kept me once in Pain, But if I had it my Power, He ne'er should preach again.
_A _Liliputian_ ODE. Composed at _Tunbridge_._
Charming _Molly_, Cease your Folly, Learn to ease me, No more teaze me. Love's but Reason When in Season: Nay, 'tis Duty, Youth and Beauty To improve In happy Love. Therefore, _Molly_, Cease your Folly, And instead of being coy, Give, O give your Lover Joy!
_The _Fair Lady's Answer_. In the same Measure._
Rhiming _Billy_, Soft and silly, Are the verses, Muse rehearses, When with straining You're obtaining Her Assistance 'Gainst Resistance, Made by Mistress To your Distress. Therefore early Quit them fairly, If you'd be rid of Woe, Prithee, Prithee, Coxcomb, do.
_The Clowns and the Conjurer. By a Lady._
A Clown, who had lost his Mare, To his Neighbour, a Wit, did repair, And begg'd him with him to go To the famous Doctor _Foreknow_, A Conjurer powerful and strong, Who would tell who had done the Wrong. So when to the Door they came, The Wit, he besh - - t the same: Then knocking -- the Doctor appears, And in Midst of his Passion he swears, If he knew but the nasty Dog Who had sh - - t at his Gate like a Rogue, He'd do to him Lord knows what. Quoth the Wit -- why know you not that? Then, Neighbour, e'en save your Pence, For his Learning is all a Pretence: If he knows not who sh - t----of course, He nothing can know of your Horse. And no Light can his Figures afford, Whose Conjuring's not worth a T---- So as wise our two Clowns came Home, As any who on such Errands roam.
_On a Pannel at the Faulcon in _St. Neot_'s _Huntingdonshire_._
My Maidenhead sold for a Guinea, A lac'd Head with the Money I bought; In which I look'd so bonny, The Heart of a Gamester I caught: A while he was fond, and brought Gold to my Box, But at last he robb'd me, and left me the P----