University of Virginia Library

My story's true, as well as new,
Of folks I know, that shall be nameless;
Their real names are nought to you,
I'll call my knight, Sir Joseph Shameless.
His lady's woman, Kitty Patience,
With wicked eyes, her teeth two rows of pearl,
And all the sequel of the girl
A complication of temptations.
The knight had now and then the gout;
To have it only now and then
Is of great use to many men,
It has its merits without doubt.
Amongst the proverbs of my sire,
The gout I have often heard him call
The potent parent of desire,
Without whose aid his doings were but small—
I mean, he was not half so stout,
And sometimes could not make it out
—At all.
My Lady in her stays, and Kitty lacing;
My Lady's fingers busy round the border,
Giving her snowy breasts a proper bracing,
To keep them at a distance, and in order;
So proud and bold they stand when they are parted,
When they are near they droop, and look faint-hearted.
The Knight came in—Said he, “how finely
You plump them out, they look divinely—
Kitty's tetons have got no stay,
They seem to scorn any assistance;
If they should happen to give way,
They'll turn again, and make resistance:”
With that he thrusts his hand into her neck,
My Lady turn'd about and smil'd,
Without the least rebuke or check,
She only said, “you should not let him, child.”
Patience replied, with downcast eye,
“I thought there was no harm; as you were by—”
My Lady said, “No, not the least—
Kitty, I have seen you quite undrest;
If you will treat him with a feast,
These two are vouchers for the rest.”
Kitty was then mistress of arts;
The Knight, without a cry of murther,
Long since had visited those parts,
And gone till he could go no further.
His Lady knew that he lov'd change;
He knew her passions were as strong,
She could not be averse to range,
She was so apt to fancy things and long.
They went and came without each other's knowing,
Both of them lov'd to change the scene;
They never ask'd where they were going,
Nor once enquir'd where each had been—
One day the Knight fell fast asleep,
The Knight was in his gouty chair;
A Captain and my Lady fair,
On the settee in meditation deep.
She rose and went behind the screen,
And he, to see what she could mean.
They staid not there, you must have thought,
Standing like fools and doing nought.
At the conclusion of their sport,
And whilst the room and screen were shaking,
Sir Joseph heard her breathing short,
Just at the moment he was waking.
He was acquainted with her notes,
And knew, that from her dying song,
Her time was come, 'twould not be long
Before she shook her petticoats:
Her petticoats to smooth the gathers,
Just like a hen, that shakes her feathers—
As long as he could hear them prancing
He would not interrupt their dancing.
“What noise was that?” Sir Joseph cried,
“'Twas a strange noise I heard just now.”
My Lady readily replied,
“I can't account for it I vow;
For God's sake let us run away,
It was an earthquake, I dare say.”
“An a*se quake,” said the Knight, “it was a squàll!
A sudden gust of wind, that's all—”
And so she said the Captain said before:—
“The Captain's in the right,” Sir Joseph swore.—
They took their evening walk, she and her friend,
Kitty came down to make Sir James's tea:
The Knight told Kitty in the end,
What he had heard; but could not stir to see.
“If you can catch them in the fact,
And can but see what I heard now,
With proofs enough to get an act,
Who knows but I may marry you?
Kitty, you shall not lie alone,
I'll either marry you or none.”
Patience, whose name implies submission,
Soon executed her commission,
Kitty's was oscular demonstration,
The Captain sitting like a lout,
Her Lady in a situation,
As if the Captain had the gout.
Said he, “do shew me how she did it.”
She answer'd modestly, “I'll try;”
And then she dandled it, and slid it,
And Kitty did it by and by.
'Twas the first time she play'd upon the stage.
But afterwards few could play better,
In any part she could engage,
The ablest Manager could set her.
So far from bold, Kitty till then,
Was so discreet, you could not guess;
Especially amongst the men,
Which were more modest, Kitty's looks or dress.
But now she soon threw off the mask,
She gave herself prodigious airs,
You may be sure you need not ask,
As well above as below stairs.
There was a Lawyer that liv'd near,
For whom at last Sir Joseph sent,
And order'd Kitty to appear,
Having told the Lawyer his intent.
“Patience,” said he, “it is no shame,
Be not asham'd to speak the truth;
You must describe the romping game,
My Lady, romping with the youth.”
Kitty look'd down, put on a frown,
Look'd up, and then she look'd aside;
She pull'd a pin out of her gown,
Look'd at the pin, and then reply'd—
“I saw my Lady with her legs astride,
Wagging her tail upon the Captain's knee;
And after she had done her ride,
Sit like a bird perch'd on a tree:
Upon her perch she did not long remain,
He gave a spring, and she set out again.
I never could have thought of such a trick—
I saw it through my Lady's closet door;
The very sight made me so sick,
I could not stay to see it any more;
But ran directly from the place,
And went into the open air,
And after told his Honour the whole case;
Sitting exactly then as he sits there
Although the gout had left his feet,
Tell it again, he said, and bring a seat.
I knew Sir Joseph's meaning, I dare say;
Sir Joseph thought that I would vary,
In my relating her vagary,
He knows I always told it the same way.
For he has made me tell it o'er and o'er,
A dozen times at least, if not a score—”
“Did you see rem in re?” said he—
“I did,” said she; “first on dry land,
I saw rem in my Lady's hand;
And, after that, saw rem in re.
She put it there; I saw how it was teaz'd—
Now it was quite up to the chin,
And then again half out half in,
Just as my Lady pleas'd.
Her stays and petticoats upon the floor,
She in her shift and gown, with nothing more.
And all the time her shift and gown
Up to her shoulders like a shawl,
As she went up and down,
I saw it all.—”
The Lawyer said, “were you alone?
Was there none else?”—Said she, “not one.”
“One witness, Madam, will not do.
Why Miss,” said he, “were there not two?
And as Sir Joseph sent you out—
He told me so;
Why would you go
Alone to scout?—
I had a case the other night—
Exactly the same case, as it was stated,
Between a Damsel and a Knight,
But not by far so well related.
The evidence is not deficient,
For there are three; two are sufficient.
And therefore I advise, Miss Kitty,
To leave off spying; I know spies
They talk and see, although their eyes
Are not so fine, nor teeth so pretty;
And females that are as discerning,
But very short of Miss in learning.—”
Upon some hints thrown out by Patience,
Before my Lady, she from thence
Set maids to watch, made preparations,
And got enough for her defence.
Before the Lawyer's wife they came,
With all the facts, clearly describ'd and well;
They could not have told him for shame,
All that she undertook to tell;
Sir Joseph said, “Kitty, you see
A spy is but a sorry trade;
I found, I thought, one cunning jade,
I find my Lady has found three.
And therefore we must be content,
And lie together with my wife's consent:
She will not care with whom I'm sleeping,
Provided both are bound and ty'd,
That information got by peeping,
Shall not avail on either side.
So both remain, coupled per force,
Till Death has got her in his power,
Or she's entitled to her dower,
Neither can suffer a divorce.”

MORAL.

There are not more than six or seven,
I think, at farthest, in a year,
Of weddings that are made in Heaven,
All other weddings are made here;
At concerts, balls, at fairs, and races,
Scarb'rough, and all terraqueous places.
Suppose you have no friend above,
And it should chance to be your fate,
Instead of a celestial dove,
To get a wild-goose for your mate:
E'en let her take her flight and roam,
Never let that disturb your rest;
Provide a substitute at home,
Of a bad bargain make the best;
The best you can, I ought to say;
The best is—putting her away.