When I came to _Hockley_ at the sign of the Cock, By [a]lighting I chanced to see her white smock, It lay so alluring upon her round knee, I call’d for a Chamber immediately; I hugg’d her, I tugg’d her, I kist her, I smugg’d her, And gently I laid her down on a bed, With nodding and pinking, with sighing & winking, She told me a tale of her Maidenhead. While she to me this story did tell, I could not forbear, but on her I fell; I tasted the pleasure of sweetest delight, [p. 16.] We took up our lodging, and lay there all night; With soft arms she roul’d me, and oft times told me, She loved me deerly, even as her own soul: But on the next morrow we parted with sorrow, And so I lay with her at _Hockley-i’th’-hole_. [p. 27.] _Maidens delight._ A Young man of late, that lackt a mate, And courting came unto her, With Cap, and Kiss, and sweet Mistris, But little could he do her; Quoth she, my friend, let kissing end, Where with you do me smother, And run at Ring with t’other thing: A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other. Too much of ought is good for nought, Then leave this idle kissing; Your barren suit will yield no fruit If the other thing be missing: As much as this a man may kiss His sister or his mother; He that will speed must give with need A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other. Who bids a Guest unto a feast, To sit by divers dishes, They please their mind untill they find Change, please each Creatures wishes; With beak and bill I have my fill, With measure running over; The Lovers dish now do I wish, A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other. To gull me thus, like _Tantalus_, To make me pine with plenty, With shadows store, and nothing more, [p. 28.] Your substance is so dainty; A fruitless tree is like to thee, Being but a kissing lover, With leaves joyn fruit, or else be mute; A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other. Sharp joyn’d with flat, no mirth to that; A low note and a higher, Where Mean and Base keeps time and place, Such musick maids desire: All of one string doth loathing bring, Change, is true Musicks Mother, Then leave my face, and sound the base, A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other. The golden mine lies just between [? golden mean] The high way and the lower; He that wants wit that way to hit Alas[!] hath little power; You’l miss the clout if that you shoot Much higher, or much lower: Shoot just between, your arrows keen, A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other. No smoake desire without a fire, No wax without a Writing: If right you deal give Deeds to Seal, And straight fall to inditing; Thus do I take these lines I make, As to a faithful Lover, In order he’ll first write, then seal, A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.