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A Little of One With t'Other 2 
A Little of One With T'Other 2 
A beau dress'd fine met Miss divine Resolved to court and wooe her, With kiss and hat, yet she all that Thought little good could do her. She gave a frown, but would not own His love for all that pother Her brain did soar at something more A little of one with t'other. 
You may, sir, skip my hand and lip That bear your idle kissing; Your barren suit will yield no fruit If something else be missing. I won't dispute, you may salute Your sister, or your mother But who'll refine his joys must join A little of one with t'other. 
To cheat me thus, like Tantalus, It makes me pine with plenty; With shadows store and nothing more Your substance is too dainty. A flow'ry tree is like to thee And but a blooming lover; Flowers get fruit, or else be muts A little of one with t'other. 
Sharp joyn'd with flat, there's mirth in that A low note and a higher; The alt an mean, with fugue between Such musick we desire. All of one string doth loathing bring Change is good musick's mother, Then leave my face and sound my bass, A little of one with t'other. 
No warmth desire without a fire No bargain without writing; In rapture thaen clap too your pen You were before inditing. And if I take the lines you make 
As from a willing lover, Like lawyers deal, first write, then seal A little of one with t'other. 
No greater truthe could warm the youth The lady's breath was rosie; He laid her down on flow'ry ground To treat herwith a poesie. And while in hast he claspt her fast And did with kisses smother; She cry'd "My Heaven, your sweetly given A little of one with t'other." From Pills to Purge Melancholy vol II, D'Urfey tune: Cold and Raw