Festum Uoluptatis, Or the Banquet of Pleasure Fvrnished with Mvch Variety of Speculations, Wittie, Pleasant, and Delightfull. Containing divers choyce Love-Posies, Songs, Sonnets, Odes, Madrigals, Satyrs, Epigrams, Epitaphs and Elegies. For varietie and pleasure the like never before published. By S. P. [i.e. Samuel Pick] |
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2. Satyre of the insatiate woman.
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 | Festum Uoluptatis, Or the Banquet of Pleasure |  |
2. Satyre of the insatiate woman.
My treatise next must touch before 'tis late,A woman-creature most unsatiate:
See this incarnate monster of her sex,
Play the Virago, unasham'd perplext.
See Omphale her effeminate King,
Basely captive, make him doe any thing:
Her whole discourse is of Guy Warwicke armes,
Of certaine Knights or of blind Cupids charmes,
Her civill gesture is to faine a lye,
In decent phrase, and true orthography:
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'Tis grand disgrace to blush indignity,
She counts her but a Nazard, halfe a mort,
That will not nimbly use dame Venus sport,
To kisse, to cull, t'admire her painted face,
And doe no more, ignoble, vile disgrace,
With costly unguments she paints her browes,
Calls them the Palace of chast Hymens vowes.
And yet this statue for her honor'd trade,
With every vassaile will be underlaid.
Her sole delight is fixed in a Fan,
Or to walke usher'd by a proper man.
Nature hath polisht each externall part
Of this vile dame with Oratories Art;
Doe but conferre and note her private speech,
Her divine frame, will passe your humane reach.
Shee'l complement, Pathetically Act
A tragicke Story, or a fatall fact.
Lively discover Cupid and his Bowe,
Manage his savage Quiver in her browe,
Court so compleatly, rarely tune a song,
That she will seeme a Dido for her tongue,
And by the vertue of all-conquering sight,
Infuse even life in him that has no spright.
Yet this proud Iezabell so nice, demure,
Is but a painted Sepulchre impure.
Though she bestow her vigilancie, care,
In coyning phrases, pouncing of her hayre:
Yet are her Legends, golden masse of wit,
But like Apocrypha, no sacred writ.
Cease austere Muse, this counterfeit to touch,
Y'have spoke Satyricall, I doubt too much,
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Their Kalender of wretch'dnesse to display:
Shutting my Muse in silence, least she strip,
This Saint-like creature with a Satyres whip.
| Festum Uoluptatis, Or the Banquet of Pleasure | |