Verse > Anthologies > T. R. Smith, ed. > Poetica Erotica: A Collection of Rare and Curious Amatory Verse
T. R. Smith, comp.  Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse.  1921–22.
Come to It at Last
Roxburghe Ballads
Or, The Successful Adventurer

(Anonymous; from Vol. III)

 In vain resistances when Love designs,
He by compulsion or compliance joins;
Laughs at what e’re opposes his decree,
And [when he] says must, that must surely be.

“TELL me, Jenny, tell me roundly,
  When you will your heart surrender;
Faith and troth I’ll love you soundly,
  ’Tis I that was the first Pretender.
Ne’er say nay, nor delay,        5
  Here’s my heart, and here’s my hand too;
All that’s mine shall be thine,
  Body and goods at your command too.”
“Ah! how many maids,” quoth Jenny,
  “Have you promised to be true to?        10
Fie! I think the devil’s in you
  To kiss a body so as you do!
What d’ye do? let me go,
  I can’t abide such foolish doing;
Get you gone, you naughty man,        15
  Fie! Is this your way of wooing?”
“Prithee Jenny, don’t deny me;
  Whence this coyness? Why these blushes?
Sure you use them but to try me,
  And they suit not with your wishes:        20
Do not frown, but sit down
  On this primrose bed, my sweeting,
And, my love, this shall prove
  To thee and me a happy meeting.”
“How many maids that have believed        25
  This,” quoth Jenny, “as your meaning?
Have you heretofore deceived?
  Yet you think it is no sinning.
Fie! I say, stand away!
  Naughty man, I hate such fooling!        30
Fie! O sad! I think you’re mad
  To rumple a body thus with pulling.”
“’Tis unkind you thus deny me,
  When I tell you that I love ye;
Sit you down, and do but try me,        35
  And you better will approve me.
Come, my Jenny, best of any,
  In your true-love’s arms I’ll place you;
Sigh not thus, but let’s buss,
  Love and Hymen both shall grace you.”        40
“This,” quoth Jenny, “is but your saying,
  You men are false, ’tis often proved so;
Poor maids you long to be betraying;
  Oh! fie! I won’t be loved so.
What d’ye do? let me go;        45
  Fie! naughty man! fie! let me loose:
Oh! bless me, how you press me,
  I think you’re wild to hug one thus.”
“In your eyes I see a yielding,
  I prithee do not thus dissemble;        50
Nor your heart with doubt be shielding,
  But the Queen of Love resemble,
See, my arms wait your charms;
  And I must have no denial;
Say not nay, nor delay,        55
  But of my passion make a trial.”
“What is it you would be doing?
  Pish, I can no longer tarry;
Nay, forbear, is this your wooing?
  Avads, I would not till I marry!        60
Nay, I won’t! pray now, don’t!
  Oh me! fie! nay ’tis evil!
Oh! What’s this? I profess
  You grow more and more uncivil.”
“The God of Love gives commission,        65
  And these pleasant shades invite us;
Nay, you must grant my kind petition,
  Since to love all things incite us.
My dear heart, do not start,
  Joys attend you, transports seize you;        70
Still to you I’ll be true,
  In your arms, thus ever please you.”
“Oh! you hurt me; nay, forbear now;
  What d’ye do? you have betrayed me;
Oh, I’m ruined!—and I fear now        75
  You’re about for to un-maid me.
Take your course, use your force,
  Kill me, kill me, if you please;
Nay, I’ll die willingly,
  In this sweet death I find such ease.”        80

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