Song 1

I Saw a proud fair Lass to day,
Whose beauties equal those of May:
She is as sweet as flowers new blown;
Much pity she should lie alone.
What would you give to bless your sight
With such an object of delight?

I wondred at her delicate hair,
Mulcibers Net so soft and rare,
T' entangle even the Gods above,
And fill their hearts with gentle love.
What would you give, &c.

I gaz'd upon her beauteous eyes,
Loves exquisitest Palaces:
Wherein as many Cupids be,
As there are men that dare them see
What would you give, &c.

Het stately forehead was so fair,
That Iris Arch is no compare:
Match'd onely in lame Vulcans bride,
Unequal'd in the world beside.
What, &c.

Her sweetest Mouth doth far excell
The Delphian certain Oracle:
Tis Loves best musick, all ears charmer,
All hearts enthraller, and blouds warmer.
What, &c.

Her pretty hands I did espy,
Fitter for kisses then an eye:
They were so small, I cannot look
For such again but in a book.
What, &c.

Her bosome, Beauties sweet champain,
The Poets Elizium I do fain.
Not white with snow, but a selecter
Colour, all overstrow'd with Nectar.
What, &c.

The two brave Thrones of beauty, her
Fine admirable Breasts prefer
Before Olympus, or Mount Ide,
Where Iove most happy might abide.
What, &c.

She had her clothes on, and I could
See no more, but to say am bold,
That there was too much beauty under
To be look'd on for love and wonder.
What would you give, &c.