And from her greatness stoop so low,

395

To be the rival of a cow:

Others to prostitute their great hearts,

To be baboons' and monkeys' sweethearts:

Some with the devil himself in league grow,
By 's representative a Negro.

400

'Twas this made vestal maid love-fick,
And venture to be bury'd quick :
Some by their fathers and their brothers
To be made miftreffes and mothers.
'Tis this that proudeft dames enamours
On lacquies and valets des chambres ;
Their haughty ftomachs overcomes,
And makes them toop to dirty grooms;
To flight the world, and to difparage
Claps, iffue, infamy, and marriage..

Quoth fhe, Thefe judgments are severe,
Yet fuch as I fhould rather bear

Than truft men with their oaths, or prove

Their faith and fecrefy in love.

Says he, There is as weighty reason

For fecrefy in love, as treason.

Love is a burglarer, a felon,

That at the windore eye does steal in,

405

410

475

To

Ver. 406.] On lacquies and valets des chambres Varlets des chambres, in all edit. to 1704, inclusive.

Ver. 418.] That at the windore eye does feal Thus it ftands in all editions to 1684, inclufive. A tered to window eye, edition 1700. Reftored again 1726, if not fooner.

To rob the heart; and with his prey.

Steals out again a closer way;
Which whofoever can discover,
He 's fure (as he deferves) to fuffer.
Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles

In men, as naturally' as in charcoals,

Which footy chemifts ftop in holes,
When out of wood they extract coals ;
So lovers fhould their paffions choke,

420

425

That though they burn they may not smoke. 'Tis like that sturdy thief that stole

And dragg'd beafts backwards into 's hole;

430

So love does lovers, and us men
Draws by the tails into his den,
That no impreffion may discover,
And trace t' his cave the wary lover,
But if
you doubt I fhould reveal
What you intruft me under feal,

435

I'll prove myself as close and virtuous
As your own fecretary' Albertus.

Quoth fhe, I grant you may be close,

In hiding what your aims propose:
Love-paffions are like parables,

440

By which men still mean fomething else:
Though love be all the world's pretence,

Money 's the mythologick sense,

The real fubftance of the shadow,

445

Which all addrefs and courtship 's made to..

Thought he, I understand your play,

And how to quit you your own way ;

He that will win his dame, must do
As Love does, when he bends his bow;
With one hand thrust the lady from,
And with the other pull her home.

I grant, quoth he, wealth is a great
Provocative to amorous heat:

It is all philtres and high diet,

That makes love rampant, and to fly out:
'Tis beauty always in the flower,
That buds and bloffoms at fourscore:
'Tis that by which the fun and moon,
At their own weapons, are out-done :
That makes knights-errant fall in trances,
And lay about them in romances:

'Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all
That men divine and facred call:
For what is worth in any thing,
But fo much money as 'twill bring?
Or what but riches is there known,
Which man can folely call his own,
In which no creature goes his half,
Unless it be to fquint and laugh?
I do confefs, with goods and land,
I'd have a wife at fecond hand;

And fuch you are: nor is 't your perfon
My ftomach 's fet fo fharp and fierce on;
But 'tis (your better part) your riches,
That my enamour'd heart bewitches :
Let me your fortune but poffefs,
And fettle your perfon how you please,

450

455

465

Or make it o'er in truft to the devil,
You'll find me reasonable and civil.

480

Quoth fhe, I like this plainness better

Than falfe mock paffion, fpeech, or letter,

Or any feat of qualm or fowning,

But hanging of yourself or drowning;
Your only,way with me to break

485

Your mind, is breaking of your neck:

For as, when merchants break, o'erthrown
Like nine-pins, they strike others down;

So that would break my heart; which done,
My tempting fortune is your own.
These are but trifles; every lover
Will damn himself over and over,
And greater matters undertake
For a lefs worthy miftrefs' fake :
Yet they 're the only ways to prove

490

495

For he that hangs or beats out 's brains,

The devil's in him if he feigns.

Quoth Hudibras, This way 's too rough

For mere experiment and proof;

500

It is no jefting, trivial matter,

To swing i' th' air, or douce in water,

Ver. 483.] Sowning. Thus it ftands in all editions. to 1684, inclufive. Altered to fwooning, 1700.

Your better way is to make over,

In truft, your fortune to your lover:
Truft is a trial; if it break,

Befide, th' experiment 's more certain ;

Men venture necks to gain a fortune:
The foldier does it every day
(Eight to the week) for fixpence pay;
Your pettifoggers damn their fouls,
To share with knaves, in cheating fools;

515

And merchants, venturing through the main,
Slight pirates, rocks, and horns, for gain :
This is the way I advise you to;

Trust me,

and fee what I will do.

Quoth fhe, I should be loth to run

520

Myfelf all th' hazard, and you none;

Quoth he, My head 's not made of brass,

As Friar Bacon's noddle was,

Nor (like the Indian's fcull) fo tough,

That, authors fay, 'twas musket-proof;

As it had need to be, to enter,

As yet, on any new adventure >

535

You