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• Will-a-wisp leads the traveller gadding

Through ditch and through quagmire and bog; But no light can set me madding

Like the eyes of my sweet Molly Mog. • For guineas in other men's breeches

Your gamesters will palm and will cog; But I envy them none of their riches,

So I may win sweet Molly Mog. • The heart when half wounded is changing,

It here and there leaps like a frog ; But my heart can never be ranging,

"Tis so fix'd upon sweet Molly Mog. • Who follows all ladies of pleasure,

In pleasure is thought but a hog;
All the sex cannot give so good measure

Of joys as my sweet Molly Mog.
I feel I'm in love to distraction,

My senses all lost in a fog, And nothing can give satisfaction

But thinking of sweet Molly Mog. A letter when I am inditing,

Comes Cupid and gives me a jog, And I fill all the paper with writing

Of nothing but sweet Molly Mog.
• If I would not give up the three Graces,

I wish I were hang'd like a dog,
And at court all the drawingroom faces,

For a glance of my sweet Molly Mog. • Those faces want nature and spirit,

And seem as cut out a log; Juno, Venus, and Pallas's merit

Unite in my sweet Molly Mog.


Those who toast all the family royal,

In bumpers of Hogan and Nog,
Have hearts not more true or more loyal

Than mine to my sweet Molly Mog.
Were Virgil alive with his Phillis,

And writing another eclogue, Both his Phillis and fair Amaryllis

He'd give up for sweet Molly Mog. ( When she smiles on each guest, like her liquor,

Then jealousy sets me agog ;
To be sure she's a bit for the vicar,
And so I shall lose Molly Mog.'


My passion is as mustard strong;

I sit all sober sad;
Drunk as a piper all day long,

Or like a March-hare mad.
Round as a hoop the bumpers flow;

I drink, yet can't forget her;
For though as drunk as David's sow,

I love her still the better,
Pert as a pear-monger I'd be,

If Molly were but kind;
Cool as a cucumber could see

The rest of womankind.
Like a stuck pig I gaping stare,

And eye her o'er and o'er ;
Lean as a rake with sighs and care,

Sleek as a mouse before,

Plump as a partridge was I known,

And soft as silk my skin;
My cheeks as fat as butter grown,

But as a goat now thin!
I melancholy as a cat,

Am kept awake to weep;
But she, insensible of that,

Sound as a top can sleep.
Hard is her heart as flint or stone,

She laughs to see me pale;
And merry as a grig is grown,

And brisk as bottled ale,
The god of love, at her approach,

Is busy as a bee;
Hearts sound as any bell or roach,

Are smit and sigh like me.
Ah me! as thick as hops or hail

The fine men crowd about her;
But soon as dead as a door nail

Shall I be, if without her,
Straight as my leg her shape appears;

O were we join’d together!
My heart would be scot-free from cares,

And lighter than a feather.
As fine as fivepence is her mien,

No drum was ever tighter;
Her glance is as the razor keen,

And not the sun is brighter. As soft as pap her kisses are,

Methinks I taste them yet; Brown as a berry is her hair,

Her eyes as black as jeta

As smooth' as glass, as white as curds,

Her pretty hand invites ;
Sharp as a needle are her words,

Her wit like pepper bites.
Brisk as a body-louse she trips,

Clean as a penny dress'd ;
Sweet as a rose her breath and lips,

Round as the globe her breast.
Full as an egg was I with glee,

And happy as a king:
Good Lord ! how all men envied me!

She loved like any thing.
But false as hell, she, like the wind,

Changed, as her sex most do;
Though seeming as the turtle kind,

And like the gospel true. If I and Molly could agree,

Let who would take Peru!
Great as an emperor should I be,

And richer than a Jew.
Till you grow tender as a chick,

I'm dull as any post;
Let us like burs together stick,

And warm as any toast.
You'll know me truer than a die;

And wish me better sped,
Flat as a flounder when I lie,

And as a herring dead.
Sure as a gun she'll drop a tear,

And sigh, perhaps, and wish,
When I am rotten as a pear,

And mute as any fish.



LIKE a ring without a finger,
Or a bell without a ringer;
Like a horse was never ridden,
Or a feast and no guest bidden;
Like a well without a bucket,
Or a rose if no man pluck it:

Just such as these may she be said

That lives, ne'er loves, but dies a maid.
The ring, if worn, the finger decks,
The bell pulled by the ringer speaks ;
The horse doth ease if he be ridden,
The feast doth please if guest be bidden;
The bucket draws the water forth,
The rose when plucked is still most worth:

Such is the virgin, in my eyes,

That lives, loves, marries, ere she dies.
Like to a stock not grafted on,
Or like a lute not play'd upon;
Like a jack without a weight,
Or a barque without a freight;
Like a lock without a key,
Or a candle in the day:

Just such as these may she be said

That lives, ne'er loves, but dies a maid. The grafted stock doth bear best fruit, There's music in the finger'd lute; The weight doth make the jack go ready, The freight doth make the barque go steady ; The key the lock doth open right,

The candle's useful in the night: VOL. V.


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