Side by side, we ride out of the city,
holding our whips and talking together.
There are willows everywhere, on every spring mountain:
which way should we go from here?

Think of dress in every light
'Tis woman's chiefest duty;
Neglecting that, ourselves we slight
And undervalue beauty.
That allures the lover's eye,
And graces every action;
Besides, when not a creature's by,
'Tis inward satisfaction.

Who violates the Customes, hurts the Health,
Not of one man, but all the Common-wealth.

Who, railing, drives the Lazar from his door,
Instead of almes, sets dogs upon the poor.

Though from without no foes at all we feare;
We shall be wounded by the cloathes we weare.

In the hope of ease to come,
Let's endure one Martyrdome.

You aske me what I doe, and how I live?
And (Noble friend) this answer I must give:
Drooping, I draw on to the vaults of death,
Or'e which you'l walk, when I am laid beneath.

Up with the Quintill, that the Rout,
May fart for joy, as well as shout:
Either's welcome, Stinke or Civit,
If we take it, as they give it.

For thirty yeares, Tubbs has been proud and poor,
'Tis now his habit, which he can't give ore.

One more by Thee, Love, and Desert have sent,
T'enspangle this expansive Firmament.
O Flame of Beauty! come, appeare, appeare
A Virgin Taper, ever shining here.