_A Dialogue between Two Amorous Ladies_, E.G.[F. 119] and D.P.[F. 120]
Dame _Portsmouth_ was design'd for _France_,
But therein was prevented;
Who mourns at this Unhappy Chance,
and sadly doth lament it.
To the Tune of, Tom the Taylor, Or, Titus Oats.
[Illustration]
I prithee _Portsmouth_ tell me plain, [73.]
without dissimulation,
When dost thou home return again,
and leave this English Nation?
Your youthful days are past and gone,
you plainly may perceive it
Winter of age is coming on,
'tis true, you may believe it.
And, _Nelly_, is't not so with thee,
why dost thou seem to flout me,
I am in clos'd with misery,
and sorrows round about me:
O, 'twas a sad and fatal hour,
as ere could come to me,
When Death did all my joys devour,
on purpose to undoe me.
Thy loss was much, I must confess,
and much to be lamented,
Now thou art almost pittiless,
thy design it is prevented:
To _France_ 'twas thy intent to go,
but therein did'st miscarry,
And trouble 'tis to thee I know,
that thou art forc'd to tarry.
Fye _Nell_, this news is worse and worse,
and doth increase my trouble,
That I must now unstring my purse,
doth make my sorrow double:
From hence I thought for to convey
what in this land I gained,
But I am here confin'd to stay,
and now my credits stain'd.
Pish, lightly come, and lightly go,
ne'er let this matter grieve thee,
Tho' fortune seems to be thy foe,
and for a while to leave thee:
Yet shee again on thee may smile,
then be not broken hearted,
Tho' from this little _Brittish_ Isle,
thou must not yet be parted.
With care and grief I am opprest,
and I am discontented,
Sorrow is lodged in my Breast,
my Youthful life lamented:
How did I vainly spend my time,
tho' Riches still increased,
And played the Wanton in my prime,
but now my comfort's ceased.
Well, thou hast laid up Riches store,
to serve thee when afflicted,
And yet doth carp and crave for more,
thou cans't not contradict it:
But let enough thy mind suffice
since Fortune frowns upon thee,
Now shew thyself discreet and wise,
or else what will come on thee?
Could I but safely get to _France_,
with all my Gold and Treasure,
Then would I briskly sing and dance,
and Riot beyond measure;
But I am crost in my design,
which greatly doth torment me,
And 'tis in vain for to repine,
what Plagues hath Heaven sent me.
Madam I fear it will grow worse,
with patience strive to bear it,
And since you must unstring your purse,
for it now be prepared:
Your debts in England must be paid
believe me what I tell ye,
And thereat be not dismaied,
but be advised by _Nelly_.