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The Lyon in Love.
Before the Reign of Buxom Dido,
When Beasts could speak as well as I do;
Lyons and we convers'd together,
And marry'd among one another.
Nay, why not? they have more bravery,
And are of the eldest Family.
One of 'em walking in a Grove,
Met with a Wench, and fell in Love.
Says he, dear Girl, upon my Life,
Y'are handsome, and must be my Wife.
Then sees her Home, and asks her Father,
Th'old Gentleman would have had rather
A Son-in-Law of milder Nature,
And not so terrible a Feature;
He could not give her heartily,
And yet 'twas dangerous to deny.
Besides she lov'd a fierce Gallant,
Says he, they have ask'd my Consent;
If now I make a Noise about it,
Who knows but they may do't without it.
Therefore he us'd a Stratagem
With honey-words to wheedle him.
My Daughter thanks you, Sir, for the honour,
Which you are pleas'd to bestow upon her.
To talk of Joyntures would be rude;
I know what's for my Children's good.
She's wholly yours, and from this hour,
Son, I resign her to your power.
I only wish, because your Bride
Has but a foolish tender Hide,
That when you take her in your Arm,
For fear your Claws might do her harm,
You'd suffer somebody to pare 'em;
And then your Spouse need not to fear 'em.
Your Teeth indeed look fine and strong;
But yet th'are somewhat sharp and long;
If y'had 'em filed an Inch or two,
'T would be no prejudice to you,
And she'd respect you ne'er the less,
Admire the softness of your kiss,
And be more free with you a Bed.
So senceless is a Lover's head:
The Lyon yields, and stupidly
Lets 'em disarm him Cap-a-pe.
And so the loving Son-in-Law,
Remaining without Tooth or Claw,
Look'd as defenceless as a Town
With all the Walls and Gates broke down,
With Dogs his complaisance they pay,
To whom he falls an easy Prey.
When Beasts could speak as well as I do;
Lyons and we convers'd together,
And marry'd among one another.
Nay, why not? they have more bravery,
And are of the eldest Family.
One of 'em walking in a Grove,
Met with a Wench, and fell in Love.
Says he, dear Girl, upon my Life,
Y'are handsome, and must be my Wife.
Then sees her Home, and asks her Father,
Th'old Gentleman would have had rather
A Son-in-Law of milder Nature,
And not so terrible a Feature;
He could not give her heartily,
And yet 'twas dangerous to deny.
42
Says he, they have ask'd my Consent;
If now I make a Noise about it,
Who knows but they may do't without it.
Therefore he us'd a Stratagem
With honey-words to wheedle him.
My Daughter thanks you, Sir, for the honour,
Which you are pleas'd to bestow upon her.
To talk of Joyntures would be rude;
I know what's for my Children's good.
She's wholly yours, and from this hour,
Son, I resign her to your power.
I only wish, because your Bride
Has but a foolish tender Hide,
That when you take her in your Arm,
For fear your Claws might do her harm,
You'd suffer somebody to pare 'em;
And then your Spouse need not to fear 'em.
Your Teeth indeed look fine and strong;
But yet th'are somewhat sharp and long;
If y'had 'em filed an Inch or two,
'T would be no prejudice to you,
And she'd respect you ne'er the less,
Admire the softness of your kiss,
And be more free with you a Bed.
So senceless is a Lover's head:
The Lyon yields, and stupidly
Lets 'em disarm him Cap-a-pe.
And so the loving Son-in-Law,
Remaining without Tooth or Claw,
Look'd as defenceless as a Town
With all the Walls and Gates broke down,
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To whom he falls an easy Prey.
The Moral.
Where Love his Tyrany Commences;There, farewell Prudence, farewell Sences.
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