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[Music ]
YOung Philander woo'd me long,
I was peevish and forbid him;
Nor would hear his loving Song,
And yet now I wish, I wish I had him:
For each Morn I view my Glass,
I perceive the Whim is going;
For when Wrinkles streak the Face,
We may bid farewel to Wooing.
For when Wrinkles streak the Face,
We may bid farewel to Wooing.
Use your time ye Virgins fair,
Choose before your days are Evil;
Fifteen is a Season rare,
Five and Forty is the Devil:
Just when Ripe consent to do't,
Hug no more the lonely Pillow;
Women like some other Fruit,
Loose their relish when too Mellow.
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