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L

Adies of London, both Wealthy and Fair,
Whom every Town Fop is pursuing ;
Still of your Purses and Persons take care,
The greatest Deceit lies in Wooing:
From the first Rank of Beaux Esprits,
Their Vices therefore I discover,
Down to the basest Mechanick degree,
That so you may chuse out a lover.

First for the Courtier, look to his Estate,
Before he too far be proceeding;
He of Court Favours and Places will prate,
And settlements make of his Breeding:
Nor wear the Yoak with dull Country Souls,
Who though they are fat in their Purses;
Brush with Bristles and Toping full Bowls,
Make Love to their Dogs and their Horses.

But above all, the rank Citizens hate,

The Court, or the Country choose rather;
Who'd have a Block-head that gets an Estate,
By Sins of the Cuckold his Father:

The sneaking Clown all Intriguing does Marr,
Like Apprentices Huffing and Ranting;
Cit puts his Sword on without Temple-Bar,
To go to White-Hall a Gallanting.

Let no spruce Officer keep you in awe,
The Sword is a thing Transitory;

Nor be blown up by the Lungs of the Law,
A World have been cheated before you :
Soon you will find your Captain grown bold,
And then 'twill be hard to o'ercome him;
And if the Lawyer touch your Copy-hold,
The Devil will ne'er get it from him.

Fly, like the Plague, the rough Tarpawling Boys,
That Court you with lying Bravadoes;
Tiring your Senses with Bombast and Noise,
And Stories brought from the Barbadoes;

And

And ever shun the Doctor, that Fool,

Who seeking to mend your condition;
Tickles your Pulse, and peeps in you Close-stool,
Then sets up a famous Physician.

But if your Humour have such roving fits,
As must upon Wedlock be treating;

Step to Will's Coffee House you'll find some Wits,
Who live upon Sharping and Cheating:

They wear good Cloaths, and Powder their Whiggs,
And Swear y'are a Dear and a Honey;
And their whole Lives spend in rampant Intrigues,
Oh, they are the Men for my Money.

Advice to the Beaus; To the foregoing

AL

Tune.

LL Jolly Rake-hells that Sup at the Rose,
And Midnight Intrigues are contriving;
Courtiers, and all you that set up for Beaus,
I'll give ye good Councel in Wiving;
Now the fair Sex, must pardon my Verse,
If once I dare swerve from my Duty;
Old Rosa crucians, found spots in the Stars,
Then why not I Errors in Beauty.

Shun the Cits Daughter whom a Gentleman got,
Whilst he the Old Cause was revenging;
Bred up at School to Sing, Dance, and wot not,
Yet walks as she mov'd with an Engine:
Nor be by the Orphans Treasure provok'd,
The Chamber is empty you see, Sir;
Ne'er hope to keep a fine Cabinet lock'd,
When every Furr'd Gown has a Key, Sir.

The

The Country Nymph that looks fresh as a Rose,
Whose Innocent Grace does o'er rule ye;
Hobbles in Gate, and treads in with her Toes,
Ah, take a great care least she fool ye:
She looks as if she knew not what's what,
Yet bring her to Town to a Play, Sir;
Soon you'll perceive, that she'll fall from her Trott,
And Modishly come to her Pace Sir.

The Buxom Widdow with Bandore and Peak,
Her Conscience as black as her Cloathing;
If in a Corner you ever make Squeak,

I'll give you her Joynture for nothing:
She still will plague ye with her Law smiles,
She'll answer your Court by Attorney;

If you love riding in others old Boots,

For God's sake make hast with your Journey.

But above all Sirs, despise the Coquett,

She'll Sacrifice Love to Ambition;

Who takes a Wife that but thinks she's a Wit,
Is in a most woful condition :

She'll make her Conscience stretch like her Glove,
And now, tho' she vows equal Passion;
Perjur'd next moment, forswear all her Love,
And make a meer Jest of Damnation.

The Maids of Honour, like fortifi'd Towns,
Will give you Repulse if you venture;
Bulwark'd by Vertue and stiff bodied Gowns,
The Devil himself cannot enter:
But if by Love's dear Bribe you get in,
And for fatal Wedlock importune;

If you don't straight go to Law with the Queen,
You'll ne'er get one Groat of their Fortune.

But if your Zeal for a Wife be so strong,
That nothing can cool the fierce Passion,
Step to the Rose, and steal out Mrs. Long,
She'll make the best Spouse in the Nation:

She

She sounds the Brains of all the young Sotts,
That come their to tast her Elixir;
Little Flask bottles, and leaking Pint pots,
Are framing a fine Coach and six, Sir.

The wanton Virgins frighted: To the last

You

Tune.

OU that delight in a Jocular Song,
Come listen unto me a while, Sir;
I will engage you shall not tarry long,
Before it shall make you to smile, Sir:
Near to the Town there liv'd an old Man,
Had three pretty Maids to his Daughters;
Of whom I will tell such a story anon.
Will tickle your Fancy with Laughter.

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The old Man had in his Garden a Pond,
'Twas in very fine Summer Weather;
The Daughters one Night they were all very fond,
To go and Bath in it together:

Which they agreed, but happen'd to be,

O'er heard by a Youth in the House, Sir; Who got in the Garden, and climb'd up a Tree, And there sate as still as a Mouse, Sir.

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The Branch where he sat it hung over the Pond,
At each puff of Wind he did totter ;

Pleas'd with the Thoughts he should sit abscond,
And see them go into the Water:

When the Old Man was safe in his Bed,
The Daughters then to the Pond went, Sir;
One to the other two laughing she said,
As high as our Bubbies we'll venture.

Upon

Upon the tender green Grass they sat down,
They all were of delicate Feature ;

Each pluck'd off her Petticoat, Smock, and Gown,
No sight it could ever be sweeter:
Into the Pond then dabling they went,
So clean that they needed no Washing;
But they were all so unluckily bent,

Like Boys they began to be dashing.

If any body should see us, says one,
They'd think we were boding of Evil;
And from the sight of us quickly would run,
And avoid so many white Devils :
This put the Youth in a merry Pin,

He let go his hold thro' his Laughter;
And as it fell out, he fell tumbling in,

And scar'd them all out of the Water.

The old Man by this time a Noise had heard,
And rose out of Bed in a Fright, Sir;
And comes to the Door with a Rusty old Sword,
There stood in a Posture to fight, Sir:
The Daughters they all came tumbling in,
And over their Dad they did blunder;
Who cry'd out aloud, Mercy, good Gentlemen,
And thought they were Thieves came to Plunder.
The Noise by this time the Neighbours had heard,
Who came with long Clubs to assist him;
He told them three bloody Rogues run up Stairs,
He dar'd by no means to resist them :
For they were Cloathed all in their Buff,
He see as they shov'd in their Shoulders;
And black Bandaleers hung before like a ruff,
Which made them believe they were Soldiers.

The Virgins their Cloaths in the Garden had left,
And Keys of their Trunks in their Pockets;
To put on the Sheets they were fain to make shift,
Their Chest they could not unlock it:

At

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