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For, as you fly me, and pursue
Love more averse, fo I do you;
And am by your own Doctrine taught
To practise what you call a Fault : 7

Quoth she, If what you say be true,
You must fly me, as I do you ;
But 'tis not what we do, but say,' ws!
In Love and Preaching, that must fway. 'n

Quoth he, To bid me not to Love,
Is to forbid my Pulse to move,
My Beard to grow, my Ears to prick up,
Or (when I'ın in a fit) to hickup:
Command me to piss out the Moon,
And 'twill as easily be done.

1
Love's Power's too great to be withstood
By feeble humane Flesh and Blood.
'Twas he that brought upon his knees
The He&tring Kill-Cow Hercules: 1
Transform’d his Leager-lion's skin
T'a Petticoat, and made him fpin;
Seiz'd on his Club, and made it dwindle
T'a feeble Distaff, and a Spindle :

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'Twas

'Twas he that made Emperors Gallants
To their own Sisters, and their Aumts ;
Set Popes and Cardinals agog,
To play with Pagęs at Leap-frog :
'Twas he that gave our Senate purges,
And fluxt the House of many a Burgess ;
Made those that represent the Nation
Submit, and suffer Amputation,
And all the Grandees of thCabal
Adjourn to Tubs, at Spring and Fall.
He mounted. Synod-Men and rode 'em
To Durty-Lane, and Little Sodom

2
Made 'em Corvet, like Spanish Jenets,
And take the Ring at Madam----
"Iwas he that made Saint Francis do
More than the Devil cou'd tempt him to,
In cold and frosty Weather grow
Enamour'd of a Wife of Snow

3 And though she were of Rigid Temper, With melting Flames accost and tempt her; Which after in Enjogment quenching, He hung a Garland on his Engine.rs

Quoth

Quoth she, if Love have these Effects,
Why is it not forbid our Sex ?
Why is't not damn'd, and interdicted
For Diabolical and Wicked ?
And Sung, as out of Tune, against,
As Turk and Pope are by the Saints?
I find I've greater reason for it,
Than I believ'd before tabhor it.

Quoth Hudibras, These fad Effects
Spring from your Heathenish neglects
Of Love's great Pow'r, which he returns
Upon your selves with equal Scorns ;
And those, who worthy Lovers slight,
Plague's with prepostrous Appetite:
This made the Beauteous Queen of Crete
To take a Town-Bull for her Sweet;
And from her Greatness stoop so low,
To be the Rival of a Cow:
Others to prostitute their great Hearts,
To be Baboons and Monkeys Sweet-hearts.
Some with the Devil himself in League grow
By's Representative a Negro :
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'Twas

'Twas this made Vestal-Maids love-sick,
And venture to be bury'd Quick.
Some by their Fathers, and their Brothers,
To be made Mistresses and Mothers :
'Tis this that Proudest Dames enamours
On Lacquies, and Valets des Chambers;
Their haughty Stomachs overcomes,
And makes *em stoop to dirty. Grooms

j To flight the World, and to disparage Claps, Issue, Infamy, and Marriage.

Quoth she, These Judgments are severe, Yet such as I should rather bear, 1", Than trust Men with their Qaths, or prove Their Faith and Secreje in Love

Says he, There is a weighty Reason's
For Secrecy in Love, as Treason.
Love is a Burglarer, a Felon,
That at the Window-eye does steal in
To rob the Heart, and with his Prey
Steals out again a closer 'w.

way, Which whosoever can discover, He's fure (as he deserves) to suffer.

Love

Love is a a Fire, that burns and sparkles
In Men as nat'rally as in Charcoåls,
Which footy Chymists stop in holes,
When out of Wood they extract Coals;
So Lovers shou'd their Passions choak,
That though they burn they may not smoak;
'Tis like that sturdy Thief that stole
And dragg’d Beasts backwards into's hole:
So Love does Lovers, and us Men
Draws by the Tails into his Den ;
That no Impression may discover,
And trace t' his Cave the wary Lover.
But if

you

doubt I shou'd reveal What

you

entrust me under Seal,
I'll prove my self as close and vertuous
As

your own Secretary, Albertus.
Quoth she, I grant you may be close
In hiding what your Aims propose:
Love-Paffions are like Parables,
By which Men still mean something else:
Though Love be all the World's pretence,
Money's the Mythologick Sence,

The

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