 | Clarastella |  |
15
Upon the sight of an old but very deformed woman.
I saw a woman: Bless me! did I sayA woman or a Witch? or what you may
Or can more horrid think, a Furie; she
Was more deform'd then Deaths Anatomie
Nor the black ink, nor this more ragged quil
Can dawb her forth, she look't so monstrous il.
A Camel-back with a crookt baker-knee,
Bow'd like a token for the earth was she:
Her eies two inches buried in her head
Like leaden bullets seem'd, they lookt so dead:
Her nose did like a Promontorie, threat
With its appendant drop the chin to meet.
Her eie brows hairie, and her rougher brow
Furrow'd with wrinckles did like trenches show;
Her parched hair did hang like wither'd hay,
About her ears, it was so drie and grey:
Her lean chops rough and hollow as the earth
When chopt for rain in a drie summers dearth:
The mark was out of her coney-mumping mouth,
Where if a tongue yet was there ne'r a tooth;
Which when she op't, 'twas but to fart a cough,
Where who stood by would wish him farther off:
Her lips like th'Monkies hairy hard and thin
And in her bosome hung her forked chin.
Thus monstrous uglie and deform'd was she;
From such a wainscoat face, Deliver me!
| Clarastella | |