 | Poems (1657) |  |
70
The Authors Mock-Song to Mark Anthony.
When as the Night-raven sung Pluto's Mattins:
And Cerberus cryed three Amens at a houl,
When night-wandring witches put on their pattins
Mid-night as dark as their faces are foul:
Then did the furies doom
That the Night-mare was come;
Such a mishapen Groom
Puts down Su. Pomfret clean.
And Cerberus cryed three Amens at a houl,
When night-wandring witches put on their pattins
Mid-night as dark as their faces are foul:
Then did the furies doom
That the Night-mare was come;
Such a mishapen Groom
Puts down Su. Pomfret clean.
Never did Incubus
Touch such a filthy Sus,
As this foul Gypsie Quean.
Touch such a filthy Sus,
As this foul Gypsie Quean.
First on her Goosberry cheeks I mine eyes blasted
Thence feare of vomiting made me retire!
Unto her blewer lips which when I tasted,
My spirits were duller then Dun in the mire.
But then her breath took place,
Which went an Ushers pace,
And made way for her face;
You may guesse what I Mean.
Thence feare of vomiting made me retire!
Unto her blewer lips which when I tasted,
My spirits were duller then Dun in the mire.
But then her breath took place,
Which went an Ushers pace,
And made way for her face;
You may guesse what I Mean.
Never did Incubus
Touch such a filthy Sus,
As this foul Gypsie Quean.
Touch such a filthy Sus,
As this foul Gypsie Quean.
Like snakes ingendring were platted her tresses,
Or like slimy streaks of ropy ale;
Uglier then Envy wears, when she confesses
Her head is periwig'd with Adders tail.
But as soon as she spake,
I heard a harsh Mandrake:
Laugh not at my mistake,
Her head is Epicœne.
Or like slimy streaks of ropy ale;
71
Her head is periwig'd with Adders tail.
But as soon as she spake,
I heard a harsh Mandrake:
Laugh not at my mistake,
Her head is Epicœne.
Never did &c.
Mysticall Magick of conjuring wrinckles,
Feeling of pulses, The Palmstrey of Hags,
Scolding out belches for Rhetorick twincles
With three teeth in her head like three gags.
Rainbows about her eyes,
And her nose weather-wise,
From them th' Almanack lies,
Frost, Pond, and Rivers clean.
Feeling of pulses, The Palmstrey of Hags,
Scolding out belches for Rhetorick twincles
With three teeth in her head like three gags.
Rainbows about her eyes,
And her nose weather-wise,
From them th' Almanack lies,
Frost, Pond, and Rivers clean.
Never did, &c.
| Poems (1657) | |