Fair in the Cradle, Foul in the Saddle, Always too cold, or too hot; An errant Lyar, Fed by Desire, It is, and yet it is not. Love is a Fellow, Clad all in Yellow, The Canker-worm of the Mind; A privy Mischief, And such a sly Thief, No Man knows where him to find. Love is a Wonder, 'Tis here, and 'tis yonder, 'Tis common to all Men, we know; A very Cheater, Ev'ry ones better, Then hang him, and let him go. _The same in_ LATIN. _Amor est Pegma, Merum ∆nigma, Quid sit nemo detegat: Vesana Passio, Cui nulla ratio, Parem natura negat_. _Cunis formosus, Sell‚ C[oe]nosus, Calor, aut frigiditas: Furens Libido, Dicta cupido, Est, & non est entitas_. _Amor amasius, Totus silaceus, Est Eruca animi; Deditus malis, Ac prÊdo qualis, Non inventus ullibi_. _Hic & ubiq; Compar utriq; Ad stuporem agitat: Nullus deterior, Quovis superior, In malam rem abeat._ _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL. [Music] Young _Strephon_ he has Woo'd me long, And Courted me with Pipe and Song; But I a silly, silly peevish Twit, For want of Sense, for want of Wit, Have phoo'd, and cry'd, Have pish'd, and fy'd, And play'd the fool, and lost my Time, And almost slipp'd, and almost slipp'd, And almost slipp'd my Maiden Prime. But now I thank my gracious Heav'n, I hope my faults are all forgiven; I've struck the Bargain, eas'd my pain, And am resolv'd to take my Swain: To phoo, and cry, And pish, and fye, And make a Virgin's coy Pretence, Is all, all, all, is all, all, all, is all, all, all, For want of Sense. _A_ SONG. Tune, _How happy's the Lover_. How happy's that Husband who after few Years, Of railing and brawling, Confusion and Folly, Shall see his Lantipley drown'd in her Tears, Then prithee _Alexis_ be Jolly, be Jolly, Then prithee _Alexis_ be Jolly. _A_ Song. _Set by Mr._ Leveridge. [Music: Fortune is blind and Beauty unkind, the Devil take 'em both, one is a witch, & tothere's a bitch in neither's Faith or Troth: There's hazard in hap, deceit in a Lap, But no fraud in a Brimmer; If truth in the bottom lye, thence to redeem her we'll drain, we'll drain, we'll drain, we'll drain the whole Ocean dry.] Honour's a Toy, For Fools a Decoy, Beset with Care and Fear; And that (I wuss) Kills many a Puss, Before her clymacht Year: But freedom and mirth, Create a new Birth, While Sack's the _Aqua VitÊ_, That Vigour and Spirit gives, Liquor Almighty! Whereby the poor Mortal lives.