| T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22. | | | | “Come Phillis, Let’s Play” | | Anonymous |
| | (From Bristol Drollery, c. 1674)
COME Phillis, let’s play, | |
| What though it be day, | |
| There’s something we have yet to do, | |
| Shall make thee confess | |
| There’s no end to our bliss, | 5 |
| But ever our pleasures renew. | |
| |
| Thou hast so much treasure | |
| Exceeding all measure, | |
| And here I’ve been so long a stranger, | |
| On this Snowy white hill | 10 |
| I shall ne’er have my fill, | |
| But o’er it cou’d still be a ranger. | |
| |
| Oh, here’s such a Waste | |
| A smock that is lac’d. | |
| And a Bosom much whiter is seen; | 15 |
| Below which there lies | |
| Such delicate Thighs, | |
| And that shall be nameless between. | |
| |
| But above all a Face, | |
| And a Head in a Lace | 20 |
| O’er which such a glory does shine; | |
| That in pleasure I swim | |
| On a bright Cherubim, | |
| For my Phillis is sure as divine. | |
| |
| E’re all thy sweets be enjoy’d, | 25 |
| Or I shall be cloy’d, | |
| An age will be past, and time shall away; | |
| Whil’st our Play does go on | |
| With the rise of each Sun, | |
| And night shall begin but the sports of the Day. | 30 | | | |
|
|
