About the Book
This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1801. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... Come busl me, dear Moll, and be prudish no more, Why always, of honour and modesty, prating? Old sport-spoiling Time, will snatch from us this hour, While how we shall use it, like fools, we'ra debating. This Time is a scandalous, fusty old-maid, Not a man, as by lye-monger poets 'tis painted; Thro' pride, what she long'd to do, still she delay'd, Till old-age came, souse, and her market prevented. And now to make mischief, for ever, she'll roam, Shed hope's fairest bud, e'er to pleasure 'tis blown; And e'er we can fay, that this minute is come, - Hey! presto," fays Time--we look round, and 'tis gone. 'Gainst the common invader, let's both DEGREESake the field, That feloniously comes, on our pleasures to prey; With love for our lance, and with mirth for our shield, Tho' unable to conquer, we'll keep her at bay. Cease, then, my dear Molly, be prudish no more, Heav'n wills not, that mortals unhappy should be;v Obey, then, my fair-one, the will of that pow'r, That made thee for pleasure, as pleasure for thee. We'll laugh, my dear creature, we'll live and we'll love, Are the old and the ugly, fit patterns for you? While they pray, whine and fast, for a heav'n above, The fair and the witty, can make one below. ANOTHER BY THE SAME. The moon diffus'd her pensive fight, O'er river, vale, and grove; Young Damon hail'd the queen of night, With tender tales of love. Sabina, lovely, wild, unkind, Sabina, young and gay; With tender anguish thrill'd his mind, With rapture fill'd his lay. Despair, at length, his bosom fill'd, And all his soul was woe; - No more," he cry'd, with anguish wild, - Her fatal charms I'll view." ." A sigh, a tear, perhaps she'U give, - When I, no more shall be; - A wretch, thou friendly stream, receive* - And end my woes and m...
