Classic Poem

Come, come, my dear nymph, now all nature looks gay,
Now birds sweetly whistle, and lambs sweetly play,
To yonder cool shade let us quickly retire,
And taste all the pleasures that love can inspire.

Good sir, not so hasty. We innocent maids
Too oft are deceiv'd by you arch London blades;
How many poor damsels deluded by you
Are forc'd ever after their folly to rue.

O, think not, my fairest, so meanly of me;
No harm, on my honour, shall happen to thee.
Here's gold that buys all things, and silver good store,
And when that is gone I'll supply thee with more.

I'll trust not your honour, your gold I despise;
My virtue above all temptations I prize;
Tho' poor I am honest; I'm not to be sold,
So pray take away both yourself and your gold.

I'll take thee to London, and deck thee so fine
That thou shalt the greatest of ladies outshine,
And ride in a coach to the park and the play,
All glitt'ring with diamonds, outsparkling the day.

No, sir, I abhor such a scandalous life;
I'll be no mortal's miss, but some honest man's wife;
So pray, sir, return to the place whence you came,
For I'll ne'er buy my pride at the price of my fame.

I love thee so dearly, I'll not be deny'd.
Thy virtue so charms me, I'll make thee my bride.
Then come, my dear angel, in wedlock let's join,
I long till I make thee eternally mine.

Then, sir, I assure you your love shan't be lost;
What I want in my portion I'll spare in my cost;
Your int'rest, your pleasure I'll closely attend,
And save many pounds which your London wives spend.

I'll drink not, I'll game not, I'll wear no fine cloaths,
To squander your wealth, and decoy the town beaux;
But love you for ever, and prove all my life
A constant, affectionate, dutiful wife.

I hasten, I hasten to fill thy fond arms;
No wealth, no possessions can equal thy charms;
Let libertines live to repent, while we prove
No pleasure so lasting as virtuous love.