The Court of Cupid By the Author of the Meretriciad [i.e. Edward Thompson]. Containing the Eighth Edition of the Meretriciad, with great Additions. In Two Volumes |
 | I, II. |
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| I. | PART I. |
| II. |
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 | The Court of Cupid |  |
I. PART I.
Fiers Vainqueurs de la Terre,
Cedez à votre tour:
Le vrai Dieu de la guerre
Est le Dieu de l'amour,
Rousseau.
Cedez à votre tour:
Le vrai Dieu de la guerre
Est le Dieu de l'amour,
Rousseau.
Ye Heroes of Earth,
Whether Soldier or Tar,
Must acknowledge in turn that 'twas Love gave you birth:
That the soft God of Love is the monarch of mirth,
And the only true, great God of War.
Whether Soldier or Tar,
Must acknowledge in turn that 'twas Love gave you birth:
That the soft God of Love is the monarch of mirth,
And the only true, great God of War.
Love, and the Dame I sing, who first inspires
The thrilling Virgin with unhallow'd fires.
The thrilling Virgin with unhallow'd fires.
130
Say, lovely Goddess, why mankind so curst,
That Cull the second, pays like Cull the first?
Venus, declare, for you alone can tell,
Why lust drives Virtue from her hallow'd cell?
Say, by what rule the eldest Son's a cull,
Or why the fairest Daughter turns a trull?
How came we lull'd in ignorance, and rust,
Undone by gaming, and devour'd by lust?
Did education in the days of yore,
Consist in judgment of a Matadore?
Did Roman Virtue rise from games of Whist,
Or Grecian Orators from list! Oh! list!
Or Cincinnatus build that godlike name,
Like empty Britons on a Table's fame;
Vaunt, the whole globe contributes to his treats,
Whilst hundreds perish in the public streets?
Or Rome's œconomy distress the souls,
That bore her Eagles to the distant Poles?
Or do you think Camillus learnt like you,
His great experience from the game of Lue?
Was e'er a Noble like Manilius drove
From Court, for public cooing with a Dove!
No, nor a Father
hurt, (the tale how true)
'Tho' he debauch'd his very Daughter too.
There see extended in ignoble dust,
A weak, sad Sister, thro' a Brother's lust:
At White's behold, those filial, kind regards,
The Father starving, and the Son at cards.
These are the acts of Britons, shame to say,
Ruin'd by whoredom, or undone by play.
Rise I intreat thee Goddess from the main,
Diffuse thy influence o'er a Poet's brain,
To give to Beauty, what is Beauty's right,
Or weak's the pinion, and the Muse's flight;
For surely Virtue never dwelt with thee,
For Virtue Venus never went to sea:
Why should she in her first loose essay err,
When thy 'Beaux Monde concubinage prefer:
Smile sweet consent, a batter'd Vot'ry sings,
And bid thy Urchin flap his rosy wings!
That Cull the second, pays like Cull the first?
Venus, declare, for you alone can tell,
Why lust drives Virtue from her hallow'd cell?
Say, by what rule the eldest Son's a cull,
Or why the fairest Daughter turns a trull?
How came we lull'd in ignorance, and rust,
Undone by gaming, and devour'd by lust?
Did education in the days of yore,
Consist in judgment of a Matadore?
Did Roman Virtue rise from games of Whist,
Or Grecian Orators from list! Oh! list!
Or Cincinnatus build that godlike name,
Like empty Britons on a Table's fame;
Vaunt, the whole globe contributes to his treats,
Whilst hundreds perish in the public streets?
Or Rome's œconomy distress the souls,
That bore her Eagles to the distant Poles?
Or do you think Camillus learnt like you,
His great experience from the game of Lue?
Was e'er a Noble like Manilius drove
From Court, for public cooing with a Dove!
131
'Tho' he debauch'd his very Daughter too.
There see extended in ignoble dust,
A weak, sad Sister, thro' a Brother's lust:
At White's behold, those filial, kind regards,
The Father starving, and the Son at cards.
These are the acts of Britons, shame to say,
Ruin'd by whoredom, or undone by play.
Rise I intreat thee Goddess from the main,
Diffuse thy influence o'er a Poet's brain,
To give to Beauty, what is Beauty's right,
Or weak's the pinion, and the Muse's flight;
For surely Virtue never dwelt with thee,
For Virtue Venus never went to sea:
Why should she in her first loose essay err,
When thy 'Beaux Monde concubinage prefer:
Smile sweet consent, a batter'd Vot'ry sings,
And bid thy Urchin flap his rosy wings!
O! thou whom titles never yet made vain,
Knight, Baron, Member, Patriot, Acquitain,
Whether you choose at Renelagh to shine,
Or more luxuriously at Almacks dine;
Or court at Tomkins more mysterious rites,
Or shake with joy, the wining chair at White's:
Or if some dying female blest in thee,
Sighs for Vauxhall, and elemental tea:
Hear and relieve them with a Play, or Ball,
Who wont capitulate at Beauty's call:
Here smile, and prove the Patron of a page,
That flogs the follies of a dirty age.
Knight, Baron, Member, Patriot, Acquitain,
132
Or more luxuriously at Almacks dine;
Or court at Tomkins more mysterious rites,
Or shake with joy, the wining chair at White's:
Or if some dying female blest in thee,
Sighs for Vauxhall, and elemental tea:
Hear and relieve them with a Play, or Ball,
Who wont capitulate at Beauty's call:
Here smile, and prove the Patron of a page,
That flogs the follies of a dirty age.
Love's lovely Goddess from the Ocean sprung,
So greater fools than Hesiod whilom sung:
But where no matter, she a wanton girl,
Was found by Zeph'rus floating in a pearl;
The winds took pity on the little whore,
And kindly puff'd her to the Cyprian shore:
The circling Horæ saw the floating car,
And kindly sav'd her for the God of War:
Eunomia , Dica, and Irene fair,
Made the sweet baby their peculiar care:
Taught her the deepest mysteries of love,
Then bore the Beauty to the powers above.
To win the wanton every Hero prest,
And yet a Blacksmith stole her from the rest:
From that, dear Venus, ever deign'd to smile
Upon her Paphos, and the Cyprian Isle:
Abroad the Horæ wing their Daughter's fame,
And every fool burnt incense to her name:
In every place, a different name she bore,
In every place, was reverenc'd a Whore:
Rome, Athens, Sparta, Sicily, and Troy,
Fall to the Dutchess, and her poor blind Boy;
From thence it spread to Turkey and Delly,
Pass'd thro' Pegu, and crost the Chinese sea;
Rose at Canton, took Pekin in the way,
And penetrated to cold Zagathay :
The clime had no effect upon his wings,
So up to Petersburgh the puppy swings;
Perform'd strange wonders on an Empress Queen,
And poison'd Europe's hopes in poor Holstein:
To Sweden, Norway, and the frozen Isles,
Nay skin clad Lapland, felt the genial smiles:
Roll'd thro' an hundred Circles up to Prague,
And swam through Holland, for the Yatcht at Hague.
The purple sails belly'd with amorous airs,
Till Love met Mirth and Charles at Whitehall-stairs:
Then Temples grew like mushrooms to the Queen,
And the first Priestess nam'd, was Madam Gwyn:
Unthinking Monarch, whose prodigious lust,
Could raise up stock from Flounders, Sprats and dust:
Whose studies were, to raise venereal fame,
And hand to us the Cytherean game.
Is it a wonder, why the venom spread,
When Charles himself defil'd his Subject's bed?
From bad examples mighty evils spring,
Virtue's the brightest jewel in a King.
A thousand proofs the Poet might advance,
From Troy and Hellen, to the Whore of France:
Start! at the Scene upon the Baltic shore;
An Empress wading in her husband's gore;
What's Tullia's murder, or Lucretia's rape,
To Russia's Devil, in a female shape;
The want of Virtue in th'ambitious breast,
Is want of all, to make a Kingdom blest.
Thrice happy Monarch, when so justly nice,
That dare love Virtue, in the midst of vice;
O would thy moral arm extend abroad;
And move that wanton from a thoughtless Lord:
Reduce the Temples rais'd to lust and wine,
And lead sweet Virtue from her hallow'd shrine.
Go where you will, Impiety you meet,
And altars smoke to lust in every street;
Near to Hyde Park, is rear'd a stately Fane,
By giddy Mortals, impotent and vain.
So greater fools than Hesiod whilom sung:
But where no matter, she a wanton girl,
Was found by Zeph'rus floating in a pearl;
The winds took pity on the little whore,
And kindly puff'd her to the Cyprian shore:
The circling Horæ saw the floating car,
And kindly sav'd her for the God of War:
Eunomia , Dica, and Irene fair,
Made the sweet baby their peculiar care:
133
Then bore the Beauty to the powers above.
To win the wanton every Hero prest,
And yet a Blacksmith stole her from the rest:
From that, dear Venus, ever deign'd to smile
Upon her Paphos, and the Cyprian Isle:
Abroad the Horæ wing their Daughter's fame,
And every fool burnt incense to her name:
In every place, a different name she bore,
In every place, was reverenc'd a Whore:
Rome, Athens, Sparta, Sicily, and Troy,
Fall to the Dutchess, and her poor blind Boy;
From thence it spread to Turkey and Delly,
Pass'd thro' Pegu, and crost the Chinese sea;
Rose at Canton, took Pekin in the way,
And penetrated to cold Zagathay :
The clime had no effect upon his wings,
So up to Petersburgh the puppy swings;
Perform'd strange wonders on an Empress Queen,
And poison'd Europe's hopes in poor Holstein:
To Sweden, Norway, and the frozen Isles,
Nay skin clad Lapland, felt the genial smiles:
134
And swam through Holland, for the Yatcht at Hague.
The purple sails belly'd with amorous airs,
Till Love met Mirth and Charles at Whitehall-stairs:
Then Temples grew like mushrooms to the Queen,
And the first Priestess nam'd, was Madam Gwyn:
Unthinking Monarch, whose prodigious lust,
Could raise up stock from Flounders, Sprats and dust:
Whose studies were, to raise venereal fame,
And hand to us the Cytherean game.
Is it a wonder, why the venom spread,
When Charles himself defil'd his Subject's bed?
From bad examples mighty evils spring,
Virtue's the brightest jewel in a King.
A thousand proofs the Poet might advance,
From Troy and Hellen, to the Whore of France:
Start! at the Scene upon the Baltic shore;
An Empress wading in her husband's gore;
135
To Russia's Devil, in a female shape;
The want of Virtue in th'ambitious breast,
Is want of all, to make a Kingdom blest.
Thrice happy Monarch, when so justly nice,
That dare love Virtue, in the midst of vice;
O would thy moral arm extend abroad;
And move that wanton from a thoughtless Lord:
Reduce the Temples rais'd to lust and wine,
And lead sweet Virtue from her hallow'd shrine.
Go where you will, Impiety you meet,
And altars smoke to lust in every street;
Near to Hyde Park, is rear'd a stately Fane,
By giddy Mortals, impotent and vain.
Here debauchees, and Harlots later born,
Or martial youth, whom arms, and vice adorn;
Or wealthy Cits, whom riches rais'd to note,
Nay Justice too creeps here in thread-bare coat;
Men of all ranks, all characters attend,
And each before all powerful Beauty bend;
Law, War, Divinity, the Rich, the Sage,
Impetuous Youth, and cold lascivious Age:
Except the very wise, and very good,
But all the Nobles of the purest blood:
Both sexes here encrease, or lose their cares;
Miss in her teens, and Madam in white hairs.
The wearied husband, or the craving wife,
Oft' get a Bastard, or a p---x for life:
Ladies debauch themselves; while Southern shores,
First make them Nuns, for Priests to make them Whores.
Or martial youth, whom arms, and vice adorn;
Or wealthy Cits, whom riches rais'd to note,
Nay Justice too creeps here in thread-bare coat;
Men of all ranks, all characters attend,
And each before all powerful Beauty bend;
Law, War, Divinity, the Rich, the Sage,
Impetuous Youth, and cold lascivious Age:
136
But all the Nobles of the purest blood:
Both sexes here encrease, or lose their cares;
Miss in her teens, and Madam in white hairs.
The wearied husband, or the craving wife,
Oft' get a Bastard, or a p---x for life:
Ladies debauch themselves; while Southern shores,
First make them Nuns, for Priests to make them Whores.
O what a conscience has the Queen of joy!
To hold all Nature in her soft employ:
Temples on Temples; to lust Altars blaze
From th'holy Abbey down to Wapping ways:
A thousand more in Covent-Garden stand,
Two thousand more, in Ludgate and the Strand:
To palliate all, behold upon a Horse
The moral Monarch ride at Charing-Cross:
Where, when Night's sooty mantle hides the just,
Circle the Brutes, of Sodomy and lust.
Nor are thy shades less chaste St. James's Park,
When Men, like Owls, and Bats embrace the dark:
Where Dames of easy Virtue stray to please,
The foulest passions 'mongst the fairest Trees:
O would some virtuous soul aspire to move,
The acts of lewdness, from the shades of Love;
Not sit like Justice upon Drury's throne,
Grow rich from bribes, from all the Whores in Town.
To hold all Nature in her soft employ:
Temples on Temples; to lust Altars blaze
From th'holy Abbey down to Wapping ways:
A thousand more in Covent-Garden stand,
Two thousand more, in Ludgate and the Strand:
To palliate all, behold upon a Horse
The moral Monarch ride at Charing-Cross:
Where, when Night's sooty mantle hides the just,
Circle the Brutes, of Sodomy and lust.
Nor are thy shades less chaste St. James's Park,
When Men, like Owls, and Bats embrace the dark:
137
The foulest passions 'mongst the fairest Trees:
O would some virtuous soul aspire to move,
The acts of lewdness, from the shades of Love;
Not sit like Justice upon Drury's throne,
Grow rich from bribes, from all the Whores in Town.
'Twas when the lamps a solemn glim'ring spread,
And every Noise but Hackney-coaches dead;
The Poet glow'd with most unhallow'd fire,
Wore nature's frailty, in a gay attire:
Sir Umbra's self ne'er made a lovelier show,
He bloom'd, and scented like a birth-day Beau:
An harmless sword his heel submissive kist,
A clouded cane hung o'er the lilly wrist:
A tortoise box the neatest fingers grace,
And in the lid appear'd the sweetest face:
A very tulip in the mode of cloaths,
A standing pattern to St. James's Beaux:
In a sedan he took his formal seat,
And dingle dangle rode thro' Bury-street:
To virtuous
Fish, whom half the Bucks in Town
Had pay'd long visits, from her high renown:
If ever Venus left her natives skies
'Twas now, to bless the Hero with her eyes;
Who fell supinely, like the vernal dews,
Or fair Apollo, on the fairest Muse:
But violent passions ne'er continue long,
He sunk in metaphor, and died in song:
Reclin'd his head upon the dear one's lap,
And soar'd to vision in the luscious nap.
And every Noise but Hackney-coaches dead;
The Poet glow'd with most unhallow'd fire,
Wore nature's frailty, in a gay attire:
Sir Umbra's self ne'er made a lovelier show,
He bloom'd, and scented like a birth-day Beau:
An harmless sword his heel submissive kist,
A clouded cane hung o'er the lilly wrist:
A tortoise box the neatest fingers grace,
And in the lid appear'd the sweetest face:
A very tulip in the mode of cloaths,
A standing pattern to St. James's Beaux:
In a sedan he took his formal seat,
And dingle dangle rode thro' Bury-street:
138
Had pay'd long visits, from her high renown:
If ever Venus left her natives skies
'Twas now, to bless the Hero with her eyes;
Who fell supinely, like the vernal dews,
Or fair Apollo, on the fairest Muse:
But violent passions ne'er continue long,
He sunk in metaphor, and died in song:
Reclin'd his head upon the dear one's lap,
And soar'd to vision in the luscious nap.
Soft invocations now are out of use,
And all the stuff of Pindus, and the Muse:
'Tis Love I sing, 'tis Love my soul inspires,
I seek no aid from Heliconian fires.
And all the stuff of Pindus, and the Muse:
'Tis Love I sing, 'tis Love my soul inspires,
I seek no aid from Heliconian fires.
In that soft time, when Youth with vigour crown'd,
Wades in the seas of love till drunk, and drown'd;
I sought a Paphos of the greatest fame,
Assum'd a title, to obtain a Dame:
So high no Poet ever meant to soar,
Excepting Pope at Button's once before;
She mov'd a Venus—and receiv'd th'attack,
Equal to her with Ilium on her back;
So Trojan like, when wearied under arms,
In sleep, and vision, re-attack'd her charms.
Methought I lay in all that downy ease,
That Courtiers do, when Wives have learnt to please;
Lo! on a sudden all the roof expands,
And smiling Venus in her Chariot stands,
As soft, as sweet, as fair, as gay, as young,
As painters fancied, or as Poets sung:
She drew the reins, and gently stay'd the Doves,
Adonis blush'd—and Cupid kiss'd the Loves:
When Hebe fairer than the morning star,
Skimm'd through the air, and led me to the car.
The Doves obedient to their Charioteer,
Flutter their silver wings, and quicken their career.
Towns, Temples, Cities, lessen as we soar,
And quick as thought we lost this bawdy shore:
When Venus spoke—“Dear Naso pray attend,
“Believe that Venus is the poet's friend:
“'Tis Beauty fills the heart with soft desire,
“Stirs up the passions, sets the soul on fire,
“Deceives the sight, defaces Virtue's plan,
“Fixes her chains, and vassals all the man;
“Victorious always when she takes the field,
“The young, the aged, only gaze and yield:
“Silence in her is thunder to your hearts,
“Her eyes are lightnings, when Love's fire she darts;
“Her voice is weak, yet who'll refuse her call?
“Monarchs and bishops must promiscuous fall.
“Wander no more, an honest woman's rare,
“Nor seek new Beauties in the brown or fair:
“In a small village upon Barham Down,
“Remov'd from all the vices of the Town,
“Where rural Beauty in a russet guise
“Of homely truth, excels the pomp of lies:
“There Love, and Beauty live unknown to fame,
“Pollia she's call'd—and Phœbus gave the name;
“The decent Graces lent their aid divine,
“Then nam'd the happy composition thine:
“Fly to her arms, her every worth adore,
“Love her till you, and the belov'd's no more.”
This said, a dull confused sound a-far
Stole on th'attentive ear, like distant war
Of ships, when muttering heavy cannon roar,
Or southern seas, upon a rocky shore:
I turn'd, when lo! a noble fabrick stood,
Of Gothic form, amidst a raging flood
On a tremendous rock, where giddy crowds
Were falling higher than the fleeting clouds:
When Beauty smil'd, e'en rocks forgot to frown,
The turgid sea was in a moment down;
The silver Doves shot like the Evening star,
And Hebe took me from the silver car.
When Beauty's Queen forsook her airy seat,
What humble suppliants wait her silken feet.
Around her snowy neck and shoulders flew,
A flock of little Loves of rosy hue;
The Sports, the Joys on golden pinions move,
And Rapture, bursting hail'd her Queen of Love.
Wades in the seas of love till drunk, and drown'd;
I sought a Paphos of the greatest fame,
Assum'd a title, to obtain a Dame:
139
Excepting Pope at Button's once before;
She mov'd a Venus—and receiv'd th'attack,
Equal to her with Ilium on her back;
So Trojan like, when wearied under arms,
In sleep, and vision, re-attack'd her charms.
Methought I lay in all that downy ease,
That Courtiers do, when Wives have learnt to please;
Lo! on a sudden all the roof expands,
And smiling Venus in her Chariot stands,
As soft, as sweet, as fair, as gay, as young,
As painters fancied, or as Poets sung:
She drew the reins, and gently stay'd the Doves,
Adonis blush'd—and Cupid kiss'd the Loves:
When Hebe fairer than the morning star,
Skimm'd through the air, and led me to the car.
The Doves obedient to their Charioteer,
Flutter their silver wings, and quicken their career.
140
And quick as thought we lost this bawdy shore:
When Venus spoke—“Dear Naso pray attend,
“Believe that Venus is the poet's friend:
“'Tis Beauty fills the heart with soft desire,
“Stirs up the passions, sets the soul on fire,
“Deceives the sight, defaces Virtue's plan,
“Fixes her chains, and vassals all the man;
“Victorious always when she takes the field,
“The young, the aged, only gaze and yield:
“Silence in her is thunder to your hearts,
“Her eyes are lightnings, when Love's fire she darts;
“Her voice is weak, yet who'll refuse her call?
“Monarchs and bishops must promiscuous fall.
“Wander no more, an honest woman's rare,
“Nor seek new Beauties in the brown or fair:
“In a small village upon Barham Down,
“Remov'd from all the vices of the Town,
“Where rural Beauty in a russet guise
“Of homely truth, excels the pomp of lies:
“There Love, and Beauty live unknown to fame,
“Pollia she's call'd—and Phœbus gave the name;
141
“Then nam'd the happy composition thine:
“Fly to her arms, her every worth adore,
“Love her till you, and the belov'd's no more.”
This said, a dull confused sound a-far
Stole on th'attentive ear, like distant war
Of ships, when muttering heavy cannon roar,
Or southern seas, upon a rocky shore:
I turn'd, when lo! a noble fabrick stood,
Of Gothic form, amidst a raging flood
On a tremendous rock, where giddy crowds
Were falling higher than the fleeting clouds:
When Beauty smil'd, e'en rocks forgot to frown,
The turgid sea was in a moment down;
The silver Doves shot like the Evening star,
And Hebe took me from the silver car.
When Beauty's Queen forsook her airy seat,
What humble suppliants wait her silken feet.
Around her snowy neck and shoulders flew,
A flock of little Loves of rosy hue;
The Sports, the Joys on golden pinions move,
And Rapture, bursting hail'd her Queen of Love.
Wives with petitions 'gainst a sluggard Spouse,
Husbands declaiming 'gainst the marriage noose:
Widows in health imploring secret grants,
Virgins in sighs, confessing half their wants:
Stout roaring Batchelors demand her aid,
Old age for vigour to seduce the maid:
Dames whom experience long had rendered sage,
Bark at the Goddess to annul old age:
“Complaining round her altar many lay,
“Some of their loss some of their Love's delay;
“Some of their pride, some ardent suits disdaining,
“Some fearing fraud, some fraudulently feigning.”
Not Steuart's Levee ever half so full,
Tho' Scotland spares him to her poor and dull.
Amongst the crowd a blooming creature stood:
Lovely amidst her grief, and wept a flood:
And thus to Venus she preferr'd her prayer:
“Oh! will you lovely Goddess deign to hear
“The sad petition of an injur'd Maid,
“By man and Medlicot alas! betray'd.
“'Twas May O Goddess, and your Daughter young,
“I lent my ear to his alluring tongue:
“What could alas! an amorous Virgin do?
“He swore he lov'd me, I believ'd him too:
“He call'd on you to prove the flame how true,
“Intreated Hymen to unite the two:
“Declar'd he meant to bless me for my life,
“His view was honour, wou'd I be his Wife?
“Things were preparing for the gordion knot,
“Beg'd me to yield,—Oh! Goddess, had I not?
“A very vagrant thro' the World I rove,
“The scorn of Kindred, and the Man I love.
“The Goddess pity'd, wept, sigh'd, turn'd away;
“Ye beauteous maids, beware the ides of May!
Husbands declaiming 'gainst the marriage noose:
142
Virgins in sighs, confessing half their wants:
Stout roaring Batchelors demand her aid,
Old age for vigour to seduce the maid:
Dames whom experience long had rendered sage,
Bark at the Goddess to annul old age:
“Complaining round her altar many lay,
“Some of their loss some of their Love's delay;
“Some of their pride, some ardent suits disdaining,
“Some fearing fraud, some fraudulently feigning.”
Not Steuart's Levee ever half so full,
Tho' Scotland spares him to her poor and dull.
Amongst the crowd a blooming creature stood:
Lovely amidst her grief, and wept a flood:
And thus to Venus she preferr'd her prayer:
“Oh! will you lovely Goddess deign to hear
“The sad petition of an injur'd Maid,
“By man and Medlicot alas! betray'd.
“'Twas May O Goddess, and your Daughter young,
“I lent my ear to his alluring tongue:
“What could alas! an amorous Virgin do?
“He swore he lov'd me, I believ'd him too:
143
“Intreated Hymen to unite the two:
“Declar'd he meant to bless me for my life,
“His view was honour, wou'd I be his Wife?
“Things were preparing for the gordion knot,
“Beg'd me to yield,—Oh! Goddess, had I not?
“A very vagrant thro' the World I rove,
“The scorn of Kindred, and the Man I love.
“The Goddess pity'd, wept, sigh'd, turn'd away;
“Ye beauteous maids, beware the ides of May!
This said; a Youth as meagre, and as thin,
As a bad carcass quite devour'd by Sin:
Fell on his knees, (as erst a gallant Wight,
When other's merits made the thing a Knight .)
Hear, Venus hear, an humble vot'ry's prayer,
Then paus'd, or else the rest was lost in air:
She sigh'd, the Warrior sunk into the dust,
Then smil'd and rear'd him next a strumpet's Bust.
As a bad carcass quite devour'd by Sin:
Fell on his knees, (as erst a gallant Wight,
When other's merits made the thing a Knight .)
Hear, Venus hear, an humble vot'ry's prayer,
Then paus'd, or else the rest was lost in air:
She sigh'd, the Warrior sunk into the dust,
Then smil'd and rear'd him next a strumpet's Bust.
144
In rage a furious, ever greedy Dame
Flew to the Goddess, Obloquy her Name,
Rail'd at the sluggard she had got for life,
And curs'd the narrow circle of a wife:
Wish'd that her goodness would remove the man,
Or quite invert the matrimonial plan,
Begg'd she would send a philtrum to her aid,
And curs'd all Laws, but those, that lust had made:
The Goddess stagger'd by the Matron's voice,
Dismiss'd her happy, and condemn'd her choice.
Flew to the Goddess, Obloquy her Name,
Rail'd at the sluggard she had got for life,
And curs'd the narrow circle of a wife:
Wish'd that her goodness would remove the man,
Or quite invert the matrimonial plan,
Begg'd she would send a philtrum to her aid,
And curs'd all Laws, but those, that lust had made:
The Goddess stagger'd by the Matron's voice,
Dismiss'd her happy, and condemn'd her choice.
This Quean withdrawn, a Quaker in belief,
Appear'd in horns, the signet of his grief;
Declar'd his Wife a carnal act had done,
As never yet appear'd before the Sun:
By common law he try'd the horrid cause,
And cast the sturdy Author of his woes:
Begg'd that the Goddess would remove the Two,
And plant him where no horns, or Cuckolds grew;
The queen of love consented with a smile,
And Obadiah rested from his toil.
Appear'd in horns, the signet of his grief;
Declar'd his Wife a carnal act had done,
As never yet appear'd before the Sun:
By common law he try'd the horrid cause,
And cast the sturdy Author of his woes:
Begg'd that the Goddess would remove the Two,
And plant him where no horns, or Cuckolds grew;
The queen of love consented with a smile,
And Obadiah rested from his toil.
145
An
amorous Lady next, supply'd the place,
With Wit, and Beauty, but she wanted grace:
Close at her heels attends her injur'd mate,
The greatest Cuckold, in the greatest state:
In turns the two before the Goddess spoke,
Who sat attentive, and enjoy'd the joke;
My Lady Lucy once was nearly winning,
Until her maid produc'd her own fair linnen:
This was so plain, Venus began to stare,
Blush'd for her sex, and then divorc'd the Pair.
With Wit, and Beauty, but she wanted grace:
Close at her heels attends her injur'd mate,
The greatest Cuckold, in the greatest state:
In turns the two before the Goddess spoke,
Who sat attentive, and enjoy'd the joke;
My Lady Lucy once was nearly winning,
Until her maid produc'd her own fair linnen:
This was so plain, Venus began to stare,
Blush'd for her sex, and then divorc'd the Pair.
To these, succeed four characters well known,
To all the Men, and Matrons of the Town:
Two injur'd husbands, and as many wives,
The plague, and torment of each other's lives:
The first a Lady, most politely true,
The second, never even true to two:
The Men as various in their different wars
As Boys of Venus, and the Sons of Mars:
Each plead their cause with energy and strife,
The injur'd Husband, and the wanton Wife:
Enrag'd the Goddess stop'd the vile defence,
And branded two, to shame, and Impotence.
To all the Men, and Matrons of the Town:
Two injur'd husbands, and as many wives,
The plague, and torment of each other's lives:
The first a Lady, most politely true,
The second, never even true to two:
The Men as various in their different wars
As Boys of Venus, and the Sons of Mars:
Each plead their cause with energy and strife,
The injur'd Husband, and the wanton Wife:
Enrag'd the Goddess stop'd the vile defence,
And branded two, to shame, and Impotence.
146
The last that came was Virtue's lovely Child,
Chaste, noble, handsome, eloquent, and mild:
Soon as the Beauty dignify'd the place,
A secret gladness blush'd in every face;
Her name was eccho'd with unfeign'd applause,
And the bad wept with better men her cause:
When Venus first beheld the peerless Queen,
She broke the ring, and met her on the green,
Declar'd such charms were only made to rule,
Not fall a prey to such a frantic fool.
High in the air was tender Virtue seen,
To guard her daughter to the Paphian Queen:
As quick as thought she cut the yielding air,
And P* hail'd her Darling, and her care:
Honour and Truth support a brilliant crown,
And justice nam'd it—Lady P---'s own:
'Twas Virtue plac'd it on her lovely brow,
And Fame and Envy own, she wears it now.
The Maiden Chastity concludes the verse,
And with her voice the Sons of lust disperse,
All different ways, on different errands fly,
Many to Styx, not many to the sky:
Maids cross'd in Love attempt the rocky steep,
And fiery Widows plunge into the deep:
Old Age, and Youth, both foolishly inclin'd,
Are blown, and baffl'd by the baffling wind;
Some discontented with the Queen's decree,
Fly to the rocks, and plunge into the sea.
Unhappy Man, on whom the gifts of Fate,
Are thought bestow'd too early, or too late:
Search every page of life, you'll find a blot,
Was ever Man contented with his lot?
Chaste, noble, handsome, eloquent, and mild:
Soon as the Beauty dignify'd the place,
A secret gladness blush'd in every face;
Her name was eccho'd with unfeign'd applause,
And the bad wept with better men her cause:
When Venus first beheld the peerless Queen,
She broke the ring, and met her on the green,
Declar'd such charms were only made to rule,
Not fall a prey to such a frantic fool.
High in the air was tender Virtue seen,
To guard her daughter to the Paphian Queen:
As quick as thought she cut the yielding air,
And P* hail'd her Darling, and her care:
Honour and Truth support a brilliant crown,
And justice nam'd it—Lady P---'s own:
'Twas Virtue plac'd it on her lovely brow,
And Fame and Envy own, she wears it now.
The Maiden Chastity concludes the verse,
And with her voice the Sons of lust disperse,
All different ways, on different errands fly,
Many to Styx, not many to the sky:
Maids cross'd in Love attempt the rocky steep,
And fiery Widows plunge into the deep:
147
Are blown, and baffl'd by the baffling wind;
Some discontented with the Queen's decree,
Fly to the rocks, and plunge into the sea.
Unhappy Man, on whom the gifts of Fate,
Are thought bestow'd too early, or too late:
Search every page of life, you'll find a blot,
Was ever Man contented with his lot?
End of the First Volume.
Mr. Cibber (in the frontispiece of his letter to Mr. Pope) is depicted, tearing the English Homer at Button's from a naked Venus.
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