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 | The wits paraphras'd |  |
I too—But hold—I shall be nub'd
Then be it so ------
For let me be or hang'd or grub'd,
Who wou'd not for a single touch
Venture to take one gentle stretch?
Then be it so ------
For let me be or hang'd or grub'd,
Who wou'd not for a single touch
Venture to take one gentle stretch?
If you were not a little proud,
Id'e court you in the Common Road,
Nor wou'd I go about the Bush,
But take thee at the very push.
Id'e court you in the Common Road,
Nor wou'd I go about the Bush,
But take thee at the very push.
But thou art such a pretty Pad,
It is enough to make one Mad.
Those Eyes which do outshine a Custard,
Which we may feast on without Mustard;
Those Arms as cleer as Foot of Kite
(Which shou'd be mine had I my Right)
That comely Confidence and grace
With liveing Brass that Paints thy face;
Those feet like Thetis in the flood,
Inch deep with dabbling in the mud,
And somthing els that I cou'd name,
But have not yet beheld the same;
With all the rest in sober sadness,
Do serve but to encrease my madness.
Cou'd I but see 'em all together,
Wou'd make my heart light as a feather.
It is enough to make one Mad.
Those Eyes which do outshine a Custard,
Which we may feast on without Mustard;
Those Arms as cleer as Foot of Kite
(Which shou'd be mine had I my Right)
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With liveing Brass that Paints thy face;
Those feet like Thetis in the flood,
Inch deep with dabbling in the mud,
And somthing els that I cou'd name,
But have not yet beheld the same;
With all the rest in sober sadness,
Do serve but to encrease my madness.
Cou'd I but see 'em all together,
Wou'd make my heart light as a feather.
No Wonder then your Beauty's such
That I shou'd long to have a touch.
Now be as angry as the Devil,
I cannot help the standing Evil.
But give me leave before your face,
To lay the Fiend your Spell did raise.
Your pardon prostrate at your A---hole,
I humbly beg, who am your Vassall
With a fresh stream your Rage I'll cool
And lay the Tempest of your pool.
To Love why are you so severe?
While to the flower the point I rere,
Summond by Beauty to appear
For all my faults Id'e suffer there.
That I shou'd long to have a touch.
Now be as angry as the Devil,
I cannot help the standing Evil.
But give me leave before your face,
To lay the Fiend your Spell did raise.
Your pardon prostrate at your A---hole,
I humbly beg, who am your Vassall
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And lay the Tempest of your pool.
To Love why are you so severe?
While to the flower the point I rere,
Summond by Beauty to appear
For all my faults Id'e suffer there.
By pride do not my fancy pall,
Beware, for pride will have a fall.
Your fetters too—But they alas!
Like Munkey tye me by the A---
To bear it all, do what you can,
You'l find I am so much a Man.
Then will you say when I can get it,
Who loves it better, Sure must eat it.
And since for me yo've don all this
I'll be thy own Lyndabridis,
Beware, for pride will have a fall.
Your fetters too—But they alas!
Like Munkey tye me by the A---
To bear it all, do what you can,
You'l find I am so much a Man.
Then will you say when I can get it,
Who loves it better, Sure must eat it.
And since for me yo've don all this
I'll be thy own Lyndabridis,
But if all this shou'd not be takeing
Dina was at Bargain making.
And sh 'has a plaguy Reach at Lyes,
And punishing of perjuryes.
I dread to hide, and dread to utter,
Least for my self you'd think I mutter.
But now 'tis out—'tis only this,
You fain wou'd be anothers Miss.
The pimp stays waiting in the port,
But the chast Nymph prevents the sport.
And when you are upon the peg,
The Cramp still holds you by the Leg.
Dina was at Bargain making.
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And punishing of perjuryes.
I dread to hide, and dread to utter,
Least for my self you'd think I mutter.
But now 'tis out—'tis only this,
You fain wou'd be anothers Miss.
The pimp stays waiting in the port,
But the chast Nymph prevents the sport.
And when you are upon the peg,
The Cramp still holds you by the Leg.
Forbear, forbear thus to provoke her,
Which you may yet, if you'l but stroak her
Forbear that face by two much strictness,
To stain with green, or yellow sickness.
Preserve those Looks (if Fates say truth)
Design'd a Dish for my own tooth.
Let these fresh Cheeks their Colour put on
That once might rost a Brest of Mutton.
But if our Die is in her fits,
Because you do not mind your hits.
Let me be haunted with that spirit,
My back is broad enough to bear it.
It makes my very Bowels quake
To think thy finger shou'd but ake.
Which you may yet, if you'l but stroak her
Forbear that face by two much strictness,
To stain with green, or yellow sickness.
Preserve those Looks (if Fates say truth)
Design'd a Dish for my own tooth.
Let these fresh Cheeks their Colour put on
That once might rost a Brest of Mutton.
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Because you do not mind your hits.
Let me be haunted with that spirit,
My back is broad enough to bear it.
It makes my very Bowels quake
To think thy finger shou'd but ake.
For ah! how am I rack't and tortur'd!
And every Minute drawn and qarter'd!
Sometimes it twists me in the nose
To think that I shou'd be the cause.
And beg my Dina for your sake
To lay the Burden on my Back.
And every Minute drawn and qarter'd!
Sometimes it twists me in the nose
To think that I shou'd be the cause.
And beg my Dina for your sake
To lay the Burden on my Back.
But ah! in vain I do contrive all,
For now perhaps you hug my Rival,
Under pretence to ease your pain,
He takes you in the merry vein;
Trys how your pulses beat before,
And slips his saucy fist down Lower.
Kisses your hand, turns up your heels,
And what he cannot see he feels.
For now perhaps you hug my Rival,
Under pretence to ease your pain,
He takes you in the merry vein;
Trys how your pulses beat before,
And slips his saucy fist down Lower.
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And what he cannot see he feels.
You saucy Rascall who made you
So bold, to rob me of my Due?
For you are mine, so is that Bosome,
For thee to reap did never blossom.
Take, take away your bawdy pawes,
That (sirrah's) for your Master, sauce;
Tho' she's intail'd on you, yet she
Made o're her Copy-hold to me.
You must not argue on that point
For now your Nose is out of joynt.
So bold, to rob me of my Due?
For you are mine, so is that Bosome,
For thee to reap did never blossom.
Take, take away your bawdy pawes,
That (sirrah's) for your Master, sauce;
Tho' she's intail'd on you, yet she
Made o're her Copy-hold to me.
You must not argue on that point
For now your Nose is out of joynt.
This my Cydippe is the Devil
That is the cause of all our Evil,
And makes our Dina fall a huffing
To break your vows for such a Ruffian.
My Dear forbid him then your house,
And you are safe as Church in Mouse.
Then keep the Oaths and Vows you mumbl'd
Which Dina heard and understumbl'd.
Then fear not she will cool thy Liver,
And be as good a friend as ever.
Some patiently turn up their Bum
And kiss the Rod when they have don,
And tho' a Lye deserves a Lashing,
Shun being forsworn, and save a slashing.
That is the cause of all our Evil,
And makes our Dina fall a huffing
To break your vows for such a Ruffian.
My Dear forbid him then your house,
And you are safe as Church in Mouse.
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Which Dina heard and understumbl'd.
Then fear not she will cool thy Liver,
And be as good a friend as ever.
Some patiently turn up their Bum
And kiss the Rod when they have don,
And tho' a Lye deserves a Lashing,
Shun being forsworn, and save a slashing.
Why do 'ye your parents crimes inhaunce,
And keep the fools in ignorance?
Then be not mealy mouth'd, but scatter
The sum and substance of the matter.
Oh tell thy Dam how I was Smitten
With thy sweet face, thou with the pippin!
She cannot call me Knave or Cheat,
Nor choose but smile at the conceit.
Marry sheel say with all my heart,
Marriage and hanging do impart
A secret tye of Destiny;
If't pleases them it pleases me.
But if she ask from whence I came,
Of what Degree, Estate, or Fame,
Tell her, to satisfie the Dame,
I'm not asham'd to shew my Name.
Had you not vow'd, and made such tenders,
And swore the Temple out at windors,
I'm good enough, though ne'er a Rag on
To Lard your Pullet with my Bacon.
And keep the fools in ignorance?
Then be not mealy mouth'd, but scatter
The sum and substance of the matter.
Oh tell thy Dam how I was Smitten
With thy sweet face, thou with the pippin!
She cannot call me Knave or Cheat,
Nor choose but smile at the conceit.
Marry sheel say with all my heart,
Marriage and hanging do impart
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If't pleases them it pleases me.
But if she ask from whence I came,
Of what Degree, Estate, or Fame,
Tell her, to satisfie the Dame,
I'm not asham'd to shew my Name.
Had you not vow'd, and made such tenders,
And swore the Temple out at windors,
I'm good enough, though ne'er a Rag on
To Lard your Pullet with my Bacon.
This in my Dream Diana mutter'd,
And Cupid's Shafts about me flutter'd.
Go Fool, said they, leave off your dodging,
This Bill a Deux send to her Lodging.
Obey 'em both, for I am wounded
By the young Rascal most confounded.
Which if you pitty, she the faster
Who broke your head will give a Plaister.
Then to the business we will settle,
You full of Hope, I full of Mettle.
In Triumph then we'll cross the Fields,
With all the Crowd about our heels.
To th' Temple-Porch, where I will make
A Pippin Present for thy sake:
I'le throw whole Pecks about the street
In Memorandum of the Cheat;
And on the Apple I'le inscribe
This Wedding Posey for my Pride,
Know all men by these Presents, hence
Cydippe is an honest Wench.
I would write more but that your Pains
Give me the Running of the Reins,
And you're so weak I'le not persue you
For fear lest I should overdo you.
And Cupid's Shafts about me flutter'd.
Go Fool, said they, leave off your dodging,
This Bill a Deux send to her Lodging.
Obey 'em both, for I am wounded
By the young Rascal most confounded.
Which if you pitty, she the faster
Who broke your head will give a Plaister.
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You full of Hope, I full of Mettle.
In Triumph then we'll cross the Fields,
With all the Crowd about our heels.
To th' Temple-Porch, where I will make
A Pippin Present for thy sake:
I'le throw whole Pecks about the street
In Memorandum of the Cheat;
And on the Apple I'le inscribe
This Wedding Posey for my Pride,
Know all men by these Presents, hence
Cydippe is an honest Wench.
I would write more but that your Pains
Give me the Running of the Reins,
And you're so weak I'le not persue you
For fear lest I should overdo you.
| The wits paraphras'd | |