Classic Poem

I.

Poor Phillis , who does Pain endure,
From the Tarantula of Love,
Hopes, that her Dancing may her Cure
Of her Hot, Am'rous Frenzy prove;
That Motion, and her Sweating, may
Love's Fever without Man allay;

II.

But giddy Girl! I prithee know,
Motion turns more thy weak Head round;
The more thou woud'st bestir thee, thou,
In Love more idle wou't be found;
But since thou canst not weary be,
Of Motion, lie thou down with me;

III.

Then to some Tune I'll shake your Breech,
Since shaking it to Tunes you love;
New Motions to you will I teach,
Which looser too will make you prove;
Since Loosness does with Dancers pass,
But for a Grace, not their Disgrace;

IV.

And since that you, dear Phillis! say,
You dance, but to that only End,
That you, but by your Dancing may,
At other times your Motions mend;
Then, but to please your Partner more,
Your tiresome Motions pray give o'er;

V.

If all your Dancing-Motions are
Your Lovers but the more to please;
Then all your Pains in Dancing spare,
To give, and have more Pleasure, Ease;
A-weary of that Motion grow,
For that, which ne'r will weary you.