The hopes of this Fortune his fancy did feed, And therefore to her he did hasten with speed, When coming, he straight for this person did ask, She came her own self in a fine Visor, Mask; And said, I am she, Sir, pray what would you have? I'm come, quoth the _Taylor_, your Love for to crave; She open'd the door, and bid him welcome in, And then to his Courting he straight did begin. The _Taylor_ went on with a noble good grace, Like one of much Courage his Love to Embrace; Thought he, with a Fortune I now shall be blest, But, listen, I pray, to the Cream of the Jest: She pull'd off her Vizor, and turn'd her about, And straightway the _Taylor_ beheld her long Snout; Ah! how he was frighted and run out of door, And vow'd he would never come near her no more. The next was a Miller who to her did Ride, Resolved he was for to make her his Bride; Quoth he, as I now am a right honest Man, I'le Wed her and Love her as well as I can; For Beauty, O let it be now as it will, As long as she brings me good Grist to the Mill; Both Silver and Gold I shall have at Command, With which I will Purchase me Houses and Land. I now in conceit am as great as a Lord, What pleasures soever the World can afford, I'le have it, and likewise in Silver will shine, Then _Gillian_ will wonder to see me so fine: To _Robin_ my Servant, I'le give my great Bowl, With which I was formerly us'd to take Toll, And likewise the Mill, if I marry this Maid, For never no more will I follow the Trade. As he was a riding to her on his Mare, He thus was a building Castles in the air; But when he beheld her most amiable Face, Alas! he was soon in a sorrowful Case; His hopes were confounded, away he did run, Saying, should I have her, a thousand to one. But I shall be frighted, when her I behold, Therefore I'le not have her for Silver or Gold. Both _Tinkers_ and _Tanners_ and _Glovers_ also Came to her, the Money encouraged them so; Nay, thousands came to her then every day, Each striving to carry this Beauty away: But when they beheld this most ordinary stuff, The sight of her Visage did give them enuff; Yet if she be Marry'd while here she does live, A perfect account of the Wedding I'le give. Printed for _P. Brooksby_[F. 35] at the _Golden Ball_ in _Pye Corner_. [Footnote 34: _i.e._ People had their summer clothes, and business was slack until the autumn.] [Footnote 35: He published from 1672 to 1695.] [17.] Says one, why is thy Beard so brown, and thy head so white? _Cause_, says he, _my head is twenty years older than my beard_.