A Sailor vowing he would all his Life, Be true to me, he took another Wife; whose Folshood (not as e’re he did Invade My Honour) made me sick, and, dying, said, Ah now at my last Hour I gasping lie:  Let only my kind Murtherer be by, Let him, while I breath out my Soul in Sighs, Or gaz’t away, look on with pitying Eyes; Let him (for sure he can’t deny me this) Seal my cold Lips with one dear parting Kiss.

The Eleventh P——.

To have a Sweetheart once it was my Fate, Whom much I lov’d, and now as much do hate, Fo going to be coupled for my Life, He was took from me by a former Wife; Henceforwards I shall ever cautious be Of Marrying one, a Stranger unto me.

The Twelfth P——.

A Sweetheart whom I lov’d, and he lov’d me, Intoxicated with Cursed Jealousie, Without a Cause, my Innocence did slight, Which urged soon my Passion thus to write, Kind Health, which you, and only you can grant, Which, if deny’d, I must for ever want; To you your Lover sends; but blushing Shame, In silence bids my Paper hide my Name.  Witness what Pains (for you alone can know) Poor helpless I do bear and undergo; A thousand Racks and Martyrdoms, and more Than a weak Virgin can be thought, I bore:  You rule alone my Arbitrary Fate, And Life and on your disposal wait.  How little more remains for me to crave!  How little more for you to give!  O save A wretched Maid undone by Love and you, Who does in Tears and dying Accents sue; Who bleeds that Passion she had ne’er reveal’d, If not by Love, Almighty Love compell’d: No ever let her mournful Tomb complain, Here Phillis, kill’d by your cold Disdain; And to her Honour let it e’er be said, She dy’d a faithful Lover, yet a Maid.

The Thirteenth P——.

          Blessed with Beauty, Money, Youth and Wit,
          I’m daily plagu’d with some Penurious Cit,
          But e’er I will to such be forc’d to yield,
          To a Man of Sense I Will resign the Field,
          For Men of Breeding more of Love can show,
          Than dull Mechanicks e’er can learn or know.

The Fourteenth P——.

A Maid can scarce into a Service get,
But Prentice Boys (void both of Sense and Wit)
Will lead the Servant such a tedious Life,
To Change the Name of Maid to that of Wife,
That she, to shun their solid Impudence,
Must leave her Service in her own Defence.

Fifteenth P——.

What spiteful Star, when I was Born did Rule,
That I’m thus teazed with a whining Fool,
Which is the very worst of Fools; for he,
Got in a Stran of dull Simplicity,
Crys, Agdes! See my looks, my wishing Eyes,
My melting Tears and hear my begging Sighs;
About your Neck I could have flung my Arms,
And been all over Love, all over Charms;
Grasp and hang on your K——­,