The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] :: :: University of Virginia Library

The world was never wickeder than now—
Wedlock abus'd—her bond pronounc'd a jail;
A wife call'd vilely ‘ev'ry body's cow,
‘A canister, or bone to a dog's tail!’
What dare not knaves of this degenerate day,
Of marriage, decent hallow'd marriage say?
‘Wedlock's a heavy piece of beef, the rump!
Returns to table, hash'd and stew'd, and fry'd,
And in the stomach, much to lead ally'd,
A hard unpleasant undigested lump:
But fornication ev'ry man enjoys—
A smart anchovy sandwich—that ne'er cloys—
A bonne bouche men are ready to devour—
Swallowing a neat half dozen in an hour.
‘Wedlock,’ they cry, ‘is a hard, pinching boot,
But fornication is an easy shoe—
The first won't suit;
It won't do.

‘A girl of pleasure's a light fowling piece—
With this you follow up your game with ease;
That heavy lump, a wife, confound her!
Makes the bones crack,
And seems upon the sportsman's breaking back,
A lumb'ring eighteen pounder.

‘One is a summer-house, so neat and trim,
To visit afternoons for Pleasure's whim;
So airy, like a butterfly so light;
The other an old castle with huge walls—
Where Melancholy mopes amid the halls,
Wrapp'd in the doleful dusky veil of night.’

419

Then, pope, on fornication turn thy back:
Oh, let it feel the thunder of attack!
Most dangerous is this habit, sir, of sinning:
Hang all the bawds; for where's a greater vice,
Than taking in young creatures, all so nice?
And yet to them, 'tis merely knitting, spinning—
No more!
Although the innocent is made a wh---.

With just as much sang froid, as at their shops
The butchers sell rump steaks, or mutton chops,
Or cooks serve up a fish, with skill display'd,
So an old abbess for the rattling rakes,
A tempting dish of human nature makes,
And dresses up a luscious maid:
I rather should have said, indeed, undresses,
To please a youth's unsanctified caresses.

Thus, in the practices of fleshy evil,
They're off upon a gallop to the Devil;
Yet deem themselves, poor dupes, cocksure of heav'n—
As though salvation could to bawds be giv'n,
To jades encouraging those rebel fires,
Pepper'd propensities, and salt desires;
Curs'd by the Bible, if we trust translators;
Which sayeth, ‘Woe be to all fornicators.’

At Rome, each hour, are horrid actions done!
By thee approv'd, thou dar'st not, pope, deny:
Yes, yes, the lawless places are well known,
Where youth for venal pleasures madly fly,
Bargain for beauteous charm, and pick, and cull it,
As at a poulterer's Betty turns a pullet.

I like examples of a wicked act—
Take, therefore, reader, from the bard a fact.
An old procuress groaning, sighing, dying,
A rake-hell enters the old beldame's room—
‘Hæ, mother! thinking on the day of doom?
‘Hæ—dam'me, slabb'ring, whining, praying, crying?

420

Well, mother! what young filly hast thou got,
To give a gentleman a little trot?’

‘O captain, pray, your idle nonsense cease,
And let a poor old soul depart in peace!
What wicked things the Dev'l puts in your head,
Where can you hope to go, when you are dead?’

‘How now, old beldame?—shamming Heav'n with praying!
Come, come, to bus'ness—don't keep such a braying;
Let's see your stuff—come, beldame, show your ware;
Some little Phillis, fresh from country air.’

‘O captain, how unpiously you prate!
Well, well, I see there's no resisting fate;
Go, go to the next room, and there's a bed—
And such a charming creature in't—such grace!
Such sweet simplicity! and such a face!—
Captain, you are a devil—you are, indeed.

‘I thank my stars that nought my conscience twits;
Which to my parting soul doth joy afford;
O captain, captain! what, for nice young tits,
What will you do, when I am with the Lord?’

REFLECTION.

Such was the fact! thus was this bawd persuaded,
Heav'n's massy door would not be barricaded!
Sure, in her mind, that Peter would unlock it!
Thus had her soul thy passport in its pocket.