BALLAD. (That all the world is up in…)

That all the world is up in arms, And talks of nought but Celia's charms; That crowds of lovers, near and far, Come all to see this blazing star, Is true—who has not heard on't?

But that she all at distance keeps, And that her virtue never sleeps— I don't believe a word on't.

That for one lover had she ten, In short, did she from all the men Her homage due each day receive, She has good sense, and, I believe, Would never grow absurd on't:

But for soft dalliance she'd refuse Some favourite from the crowd to chuse— I don't believe a word on't.

That in the face of standers-by She's modesty itself's no lie; That then were men rude things to say, 'Twould anger her—oh I would lay A bottle and a bird on't.

But to her bedchamber, d'ye see, That Betty has no private key, I don't believe a word on't.