The Works of Capt. Alex. Radcliffe :: :: University of Virginia Library

Paris was the Son of Priam a Wealthy Old Citazen and Alderman of London. When Hecuba his Mother was big with Child of him, she dream't a foolish conceited Dream, which occasion'd Old Priam to consult Lilly, who told him, That Paris in process of time would occasion his house to be burnt down. Therefore the credulous Alderman sends him into the Country far North to be dispos'd of as a By-blow. When he grew fit for Service he was entertain'd in a Gentleman's House, where he contracted a Bosom-acquaintance with Oenone a Young Wench and fellow Servant with him in the same house. His Father began to come to himself, and hearing where he was, sent for him, and own'd him as his Son; but before that, he had disengaged himself from Service, and ran away with one Hellen, who was VVife to Menelaus. Oenone being inform'd of All these proceedings, writes to him this Letter.

After my hearty Love to you remembr'd.
Hoping you are not in Body distemper'd,

More than my self at the writing hereof;
If it be so, we are both well enough:
Your Usage has been such to poor Oenone,
That none but such a fool as I would own'e'e;
I hear you're run away with Menels Wife,
I pitty her, she'll lead a blessed Life;
What mighty mischief have I done, I wonder;
You'l never have a younger, nor a sounder.
If by my means y'had met with some disaster,
Had I procur'd you Anger from your Master;
If I had giv'n you that they call a Clap,
You'd had some small Excuse for your Escape:
But now you've had your ends, away to sneak,
Come! come! these things would make a body, speak.
You were not then so Uppish—when you said,
A Dutchess was a T---t'a Servant Maid;
You were a Groom your self, you know 'tis truth,
Not all your Greatness now—can stop my mouth;

If you were able to keep house you swore
You'd marry me for all I was your Whore.
We were together on a Summers day,
Both in the Stable, on a Truss of Hay;
You can't forget some pretty pastimes there,
No body saw us but the Chesnut Mare:
You said such glorious things the very Beast
Prick'd up her Ears, and thought you were in Jest:
But I did prove th' verrier best o'th' two,
For like an Ass I thought that all was true;
Soon after—you were taken from the Stable,
To wait upon my Master at his Table;
To undertake it you seem'd very loath,
Did I not teach you then to lay a Cloath?
There's no man but must have his first beginning,
Who learnt you then to fold your Table Linnen?
Did you not often when the Cloath was spread,
Just in the middle put your Salt and Bread?

You have been threatned oft to lose your place,
Because you knew not how to fill a Glass;
You pour'd in Wine up to the very top,
I told you you should fill but to the knob.
Did I not shew you how to broach your Drink,
And tilt the Vessel when't begin to sink?
I was your dearest Honey—all that while
There was not such a Girle in Forty mile
You carv'd my name upon the Trencher-Plates,
And on the Elms before the outward Gates;
And as we see in time those Elms encrease,
So will my name grow greater with the Trees;
And any one that stands but at the door,
May see Oenone (your obedient Whore.)
You never have been well, since those three Maids
Rather those impudent and bold-fac'd Jades
Differ'd among them—selves, which it should be,
That had the cleanliest shap of all the Three.

To you they came when you were in the Close,
The Little Field that was behind the House,
Stark naked did they come from top to toe,
Paris, say they, we will be Judg'd by you.
Heavens preserve you Eye-sight—how you gaz'd,
Nor could you speak a word, you were so maz'd;
At last you Judg'd with many a hum! and haw!
Venus the finest Wench that e're you saw.
This was a Whitson Frolique, as they said,
A pretty prank to shew you all they had.
To see how naked Women are bewitching,
Since that y'have minded nothing else but bitching.
Soon after that your project was of stealing
That over-ridden Whore that Mistress Hellen:
I must be gone a little while, you said,
(Then was this Bus'ness brooding in your head.)
You kist me hard as if I cou'd not feel,
And swore that you wou'd be as true as steal:

Said you—Doubt nothing, for the case is plain,
I'm proved the Son of an Old Alderman,
And sent for home my Father's very ill,
I must be by, at making of his will;
Oh that we cou'd but bury the old Cuff,
Then marry you, all wou'd be well enough.
You may've a richer Wife, but not a better,
For I am no such despicable Creature:
Not to disparage your good Lady Mother,
I can behave my self as well's another.
No Wife like me was there in Christendom,
When you were honest Pall—Squires Sheepeard's Groom.
My Father's but a plain Old Man, 'tis true,
But's Daughter ha's been bred up as high as you.
He is an honest Man, whate'r I am,
And may be sav'd as soon as Master Priam.
Were I your Wife, my carriage shou'd not shame
Your Mother Hec.—tho' shee's a stately Dame.

What though these hands have us'd a Drippin-pan,
Yet on occasion they can furle a Fan.
Now on a little Folding Bed I lye,
(Tho' in that Bed sometimes lay you and I)
Yet I know how perhaps to hold my head,
If I were carried to a Damasque Bed.
If you had marry'd me y'had met with quiet,
What can y'expect from her but noise and riot?
You now have caught a most notorious Strumpet;
Besides 'tis known, as if y'ad blown a Trumpet;
Where e're you come you'l meet with frumps and Jeers,
Her Husband too, will be about your Ears.
In little time from you she will be budging,
She'l lye with any body for a Lodging.
When first of all we closely were acquainted,
(Which now it is too late, I have repented)
Cassandra was a Gipsey in the Town,
Who went a Fortune-telling up and down;

I gave her broken meat, which we cou'd spare,
Shee'd tell me all my Fortune to a hair:
You love (sayes she) a Man not tall nor squat,
But a good hansome Fellow, (mark ye that?)
This youth and you 'tis likely may do well,
If he escape but one—they call her Nell.
But if they two should chance to lye together,
Hee'll break the heart of you, and of his Father.
Who this Nell was, I cou'd not chuse but wonder;
But now I know who 'tis—a Pox confound her!
I'll make Cassandra 'Liar tho', in part;
You've vex'd me, but you ne're shall break my heart.
This very Whore I spaek on, ran-away
With such another Fellow t'other day,
And when her cloaths were gone, and money lavish'd,
She came and told her Husband she was ravish'd.
I'm sure I'm true, for here since you were gone,
Hath been some loving Boobyes of the Town,

One of the Fello ws surely is a Satyr,
He follows me, and swears he'll watch my water:
We have a Servant come—pretends to Physick,
He hath a Cure for any one that-is-sick;
He cures the Tooth-ach; if your Finger's cut,
A Plaister to it presently hee'l put;
Freckles i'th' face he cures, and takes off Pimples,
'Hath taught me to the use of Herbs and Simples.
But I must beg my fellow-Servant's Pardon,
'Gainst Love there is no Herb nor Flow'r i'th Garden:
For this Disease I must rely upon ye,
Come and live here again, you'l cure Oenone.