The Fifth P——­, in a Dialogue betwixt Cloris
and Parthenisea.

Clo. Why dost thou all Address deny?  Hard-hearted Parthenisea, why?  See how the trembling Lovers come, That from thy Lips expect their Doom.

Par. Cloris! I hate them all, they know, Nay I have often told them so; Their silly Politicks abhorr’d:  I scorn to make my Slave my Lord.

          Clo. But Strephon’s Eyes proclaim His Love
          Too brave, Tyrannical to prove.

          Par. Ah Cloris! when we lost our Power? 
          We must obey the Conqueror.

          Clo. Yet when a gentle Prince bears sway,
          It is no Bondage to Obey.

Par. But if like Nero, for a while, With Arts of Kindness he beguile, How shall the Tyrant be withstood, When he has writ his Laws in Blood?

Clo. Love (Parthenisea) all commands, it fetters Kings in charming Bands; Mars yields his Arms to Cupid’s Darts, And Beauty softens Savage Hearts.

Par. Well may you choose to be a Wife,
I’ll still retain a Single Life.

The Sixth P——.

Rid of a Coxcomb, next a Siege is laid Against the weak Repulses of a Maid, By one that keeps a Coach and Lackies too, And that he might his wicked Plots pursue, In gawdy Dress he would her Heart surprize, with Gold to dazle her too watchful Eyes; But Vertue cherishing her Virtuous Breast, With so much Innocence which made her blest, Her Innocence as hitherto ne’er knew What Mischief Venus or her Son cou’d do,

The Seventh P——.

Where blindfold Fortune has been pleas’d to place
A Virgen with a Master void of Grace,
With Foot, with Hand, or Eyes, he’ll Tokens speak,
The Signs deny, these Assignations make;
Thinks she shall be as pliant to his Use,
As Strumpets on a Cornival let loose;
But if she’s Chast, his Miss she will not be,
Unless she is as Fiend, and Base as he.

The Eighth P——.

A Negro Courting onto a maid, That was most Fair; to him she said, Thy Ink, my Papper, make me guess, Our Nuptial Bed will make a Press, And to our Sports, if any came They’ll read a Wanton Epigram,

The Ninth P——.

How many Sweethearts do these follow me Whose fell Design I know’s to Ruine me; but let me banish this forbidden Fire, Or quench it with my Blood, or with’t expire; Unstain’d in Honour; and unhurt in Fame, I’ll never blast Virginity Shame,

The Tenth P——.