I.

C YNDERAXA Kind and Good,
Has all my Heart and Stomach too;
She makes me love, not hate, my Food,
As other peevish Wenches do.

II.

When Venus leaves her Vulcan's Cell,
Which all but I a Cole-hole call;
Fly, fly yee that above Stairs dwell,
Her Face is wash'd, yee vanish all.

III.

And as she's Fair, she can impart
That Beauty, to make all things Fine;
Brightens the Floor with Wondrous Art,
And at her touch the Dishes shine.