There's none so Pretty, As my sweet _Betty_, She bears away the Bell; For sweetness and neatness, And all Compleatness, All other Girls doth excell. Whenever we meet, She'll lovingly greet, Me still, with a how d'ye do; Well I thank you, quoth I, Then she will reply, So am I Sir, the better for you. Then I ask'd her how, She told me, not now, For Walls, and Ears, and Eyes; Nay, she bid me take heed, What ever I did, 'Tis good to be merry and Wise. I took her by th' Hand, She did not withstand, And I gave her a smirking Kiss; She gave me another, Just like the tother, Quoth I, what a Comfort is this? This put me in Heart, To play o'er my part, That I had intended before; She bid me to hold, And not be too bold, Until she had fastned the Door. She went to the Hatch, To see that the Latch, And Cranies were all cock-sure; And when she had done, She bid me come on, For now we were both secure. And what we did there, I dare not declare, But think that silence is best; And if you will know, Why I Kiss'd her, or so, I'll leave you to guess at the rest. _The Praise of_ HULL _Ale_. [Music] Let's wet the whistle of the Muse, That sings the praise of every Juice, This House affords for Mortal use, _Which no Body can deny_. Here's Ale of _Hull_, which 'tis well known, Kept _King_ and _Keyser_ out of Town, Now in, will never hurt the Crown, _Which no Body_, &c. Here's _Lambeth_ Ale to cool the Maw, And Beer as spruce as e'er you saw, But Mum as good as Man can draw, _Which no Body_, &c. If Reins be loose as some Mens Lives, Whereat the Purling Female grieves, Here's stitch-Back that will please your Wives, _Which no Body_, &c. Here's Cyder too, ye little wot, How oft 'twill make ye go to Pot, 'Tis Red-streak all, or it is not, _Which no Body_, &c. Here's Scholar that has doft his Gown, And donn'd his Cloak and come to Town, 'Till all's up drink his College down, _Which no Body_, &c. Here's _North_-down, which in many a Case, Pulls all the Blood into the Face, Which blushing is a sign of Grace, _Which no Body_, &c. If Belly full of Ale doth grow, And Women runs in Head you know, Old _Pharoah_ will not let you go, _Which no Body can deny._ Here's that by some bold Brandy hight, Which _Dutch-men_ use in Case of fright, Will make a Coward for to Fight, _Which no Body_, &c. Here's _China_ Ale surpasseth far, What _Munden_ vents at _Temple-bar_, 'Tis good for Lords and Ladies Ware, _Which no Body_, &c. Here's of _Epsom_ will not Fox You, more than what's drawn out of Cocks Of _Middleton_, yet cures the Pox, _Which no Body_, &c. For ease of Heart, here's that will do't, A Liquor you may have to boot, Invites you or the Devil to't, _Which no Body_, &c.