It oft to many has successful been Upon his arm to let his mistress l… Or with her airy fan to cool her h… Or gently squeeze her knees, or pr… All public sports to favour young…

Soft Cupid, wanton, amorous boy, The other day, moved with my lyre, In flattering accents spoke his jo… And uttered thus his fond desire. Oh! raise thy voice, one song I a…

Yes, fairest Proof of Beauty’s P… Dear Idol of My panting Heart, Nature points This my fatal Hour: And I have liv’d; and We must par… While now I take my last Adieu,

Wiessen and nature held a long con… If she created or he painted best; With pleasing thought the wondrous… She still form’d fairer, he still… In these seven brethren they conte…

If wine and music have the power To ease the sickness of the soul, Let Phoebis every string explore, And Bacchus fill the sprightly bo… Let them their friendly aid employ

Tune. - ‘King John and the Abbot… I sing not old Jason who travell’… To kiss the fair maids and possess… Nor sing I AEneas, who, led by h… Got rid of one wife and went far f…

Fast by the banks of Cam was Coli… (Ye Nymphs, for every guard that… To Wimple’s woody shade his way h… (Flourish those woods, the Muses’… As whilom Colin ancient books had…

Celia and I the other Day Walk’d o’er the Sand-Hills to the… The setting Sun adorn’d the Coast… His Beams entire, his Fierceness… And, on the Surface of the Deep,

I sent for Ratcliffe, was so ill, That other doctors gave me over, He felt my pulse, prescribed his p… And I was likely to recover. But when the wit began to wheeze,

When crowding folks, with strange… Were making legs, and begging plac… And some with patents, some with m… Tired out my good Lord Dorset’s s… Sneaking I stood amongst the crew…

Dear Cloe, how blubber’d is that… Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hai… Pr’ythee quit this caprice; and (a… Let us e’en talk a little like fol… How can’st thou presume, thou hast…

Written three hundred years since. Be it right or wrong, these men am… On women do complayne; Affyrmynge this, how that it is A labour spent in vaine

Let 'em Censure: what care I? The Herd of Criticks I defie. Let the Wretches know, I write Regardless of their Grace, or Spi… No, no: the Fair, the Gay, the Y…

Dear Chloe, how blubber’d is that… Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hai… Prythee quit this caprice; and (as… Let us e’en talk a little like fol… How canst thou presume, thou hast…

Nanny blushes when I woo her, And with kindly chiding eyes Faintly says I shall undo her; Faintly, O, forbear! she cries. But her breasts while I am pressi…