University of Virginia Library

Discourteous Damsel! what a Devil,
Cou'd make thy Person so uncivil?
Did you not swear while Moon did shine,
With those Dear Lips, and Eyes of thine,
(Bewitching Eyes that glance more bright
Than Ev'ning-Star, or Cynthia's Light)
That you wou'd bilk domestick Spies,
And Mother's second-sighted Eyes;
Yet after all the Vows you made,
To leave both them, and me unpaid!
To violate your Faith and Troth,
And break my Heart to break your Oath!
It was disast'rous you shou'd swear
By that false Light; for you, I fear,
Have learn'd Inconstancy from her;
Since to my Grief alas! I see
She changes not so oft as thee!

Cynthia her self left Heav'n to keep,
As Poets sing, Endymion's Sheep,
Resolving to solace with Crony,
She took the Shepherd for her Honey;
In Lanthorn dark enclos'd her Light,
And play'd upon his Pipe all Night;
The Shepherdess her Lover charms,
And hugs him folded in her Arms.
By Night She play'd; for if you mark,
Lovers perform best in the dark;
And hence the Tiny God we find
Is always represented blind.

This Whipster keeps perpetual Racket,
Enflames this Codpiece, and that Placket;
The hood-wink'd Link-boy blindly leads
Prentice to Mistress Bed, for Maid's;
Makes Gib-Cats clapperclaw their Spouses,
And clatter Tiles on Tops of Houses;
Great Lords for Dears mistake their Woman,
And Rampant Duchesses grow common;
Night-Errant Peers with Stars and Garters,
To Garrets climb for Winter-Quarters,
And make the Tour of Petty-France
With Honi Soit Qui Mal y Pense.

All Things in Earth, in Air, or Sky,
That sink, or swim, that creep, or fly,
The Herds of two Legs, and of four
Pursue the Sweets of an Amour;
True to their Mates are Beasts and Birds,
And scorn, like You, to break their Words.

Some Hours b'ing pass'd 'twixt Hopes and Fears,
The Bell beat Six into my Ears;
List'ning I stood, unmov'd as Stock,
My Heart just striking with the Clock;
Then down sat Pil, like silly Ass,
Expecting what ne're came to pass:
I here, in pensive Thought, contrive all
Methods to welcome your Arrival;
At length I grew confounded jealous,
So fell to reprimand my Bellows;
I puff'd and blow'd while Flames increas'd,
Both in my Stove, and in my Breast;
On Tiptoe then I tript, almost
As light as Midnight Thief, or Ghost:
At the least Breath I heard, methoughts,
The Rustling of your Petticoats;
False Petticoats that did convey
A Signal of approaching Joy!
But 'twas imaginary Silk,
Instructed like the true, to bilk:
Then melancholy Ditty humming,
I made Excuse for your not Coming;
Said I, I'll hold my self a Crown,
My Dear is Pinning up her Gown,
Dressing her Head, or what's as good,
She's putting on her Scarf and Hood,
Her whole Attire adjusting,—and
Drawing white Kid on whiter Hand.
Now as I walk'd in sad Despair,
I thought your Foot saluted Stair,
Pit-pat it went, and ev'n like that
My flutt'ring Heart went pit-a-pat.

Why shou'd you thus your Freedom fetter,
And put on Chains, to give me greater?
Torture your self, and take a vain,
Affected Pleasure in my Pain?
So founder'd Bawd, when She in Chace is
Of fresh young Ware with pretty Faces,
Industriously jogs up and down,
To fire their Bums, and warm her own.

How can you dozing sit hum drum,
Before your Jacks and Wire at Home,
When you're an Instrument much fitter,
Tun'd for more sprightly Jiggs, and sweeter?
There can be no great Pleasure in it,
Whether you sing, or thump your Spinnet;
If no Admirers round you stand,
T' applaud the Touches of your Hand,
No list'ning Youths about you throng,
To kiss the Mouth that breath'd the Song.
As in no single String is found
A Correspondency of Sound;
So we small Musick make, or none,
In either Sex, when we're alone;
Where proper Parts with Parts agree,
In that, and Love, 'tis Harmony.

Perhaps you're well—but for my part,
You've broke my Sleep, and crack'd my Heart;
And it wou'd vex you, shou'd your Scorning
Behold my Courage down next Morning,
Your Champion fall'n, laid out for dead,
Unable to support his Head:
You are the only Person found,
That wears the Balm to Cure my Wound.
Then, Dear Physician, haste; but prithee
Fail not to bring the Balsam with thee;
And when recover'd, on my Knees
In Love, not Gold, I'll pay thy Fees.