 | The wits paraphras'd |  |
27
Hermione to Orestes.
The ARGUMENT.
Hermione, the Daughter of Menelaus and Helena, was by Tindarus her Grandfather (to whom Menelaus had committed the government of his house when he went to Troy) contracted to Orestes. Her Father Menelaus not knowing thereof, had betroth'd her to Pyrrhus the Son of Achilles; who returning from the Trojan Wars, stole her away. Whereupon she writes to Orestes as follows.
Take this, Orest, with commendation
From your own buttock and relation;
Nay more, your Wife, but that I buckl'd
T'another since, and made thee Cuckold.
All that a silly woman knew,
I strove against, but 'twould not do.
Stand off, said I, and quit my Placket,
Ormy Goodman will brush your Jacket.
Yet did he drag me by the Breech,
Through th'gutters, like a new-lim'd Bitch.
What cou'd I suffer more of Rack,
If all Troy-Town were on my back?
If thou hast left one dram of kindness
For an old Friend, use no more shiness;
But like a Tyger come, my Rogue,
Save me from this Whore-mastring Dog.
What, can you turn a Tory-catcher,
And see me ravish'd by a Thatcher?
Think how my Father, that old Coxcomb,
Fell on his Rival with a Pox to 'em;
And to redeem his little Crack,
Rais'd all the Town upon his back.
Had he not hector'd, hufft, and tore,
At such a rate, he'd lost his Whore.
Nor need you send a Crowd to huff him,
Your self will be enough to cuff him.
Nor will you sure your self disparage;
You're mine by Bloud, as well as Marriage.
Then make all speedy preparation
To save your Wife, and your Relation.
From your own buttock and relation;
Nay more, your Wife, but that I buckl'd
T'another since, and made thee Cuckold.
All that a silly woman knew,
I strove against, but 'twould not do.
Stand off, said I, and quit my Placket,
Ormy Goodman will brush your Jacket.
Yet did he drag me by the Breech,
Through th'gutters, like a new-lim'd Bitch.
28
If all Troy-Town were on my back?
If thou hast left one dram of kindness
For an old Friend, use no more shiness;
But like a Tyger come, my Rogue,
Save me from this Whore-mastring Dog.
What, can you turn a Tory-catcher,
And see me ravish'd by a Thatcher?
Think how my Father, that old Coxcomb,
Fell on his Rival with a Pox to 'em;
And to redeem his little Crack,
Rais'd all the Town upon his back.
Had he not hector'd, hufft, and tore,
At such a rate, he'd lost his Whore.
Nor need you send a Crowd to huff him,
Your self will be enough to cuff him.
Nor will you sure your self disparage;
You're mine by Bloud, as well as Marriage.
29
To save your Wife, and your Relation.
When the old Pimp secur'd me yours,
I little dreamt of a Divorce;
Or e're to stretch my hams abroad
To one I hated like a Toad.
So well you tickled up my Toby,
I never cou'd endure this Looby.
Full well my Father knows, the Letcher,
What 'tis to love old Cony-catcher:
And I must do't, whate'er come after;
You know I am the Father's Daughter.
My Case is his; and Pyrrhus carries
A Thiefs look too, as well as Paris.
Let 'em all crack of Deeds and Wonders,
Of their high Birth, of Claps, and Thunders,
Of Jove and Juno, and the rest on 'em,
Thou art as well born as the best on 'em.
And can I, having tongue to us't,
Stand by, and see my Friends abus'd?
I've one way left before my dying,
And that's to break my heart with crying.
But what does't value while he lies out?
For shou'd I cry my very Eyes out,
Cat after kind, I can't escape,
We're all too subject to a Rape.
I need not tell you how a Swan
Ravish'd my Granny for a man:
How Hippodame the Youth did gull her,
And drove her in an open Sculler:
Poor Tindar ravish'd by a Boy,
And afterwards sent back from Troy.
I scarce remember it, and yet
Now I think on't, I remember it.
So like the rest of my curst Kindred,
I'm kept from thee by such as hinder it.
If old Achilles had but seen,
I'll burn if ever this had been;
He wou'd not, to part man and wife,
Do such a trick to save his life.
I little dreamt of a Divorce;
Or e're to stretch my hams abroad
To one I hated like a Toad.
So well you tickled up my Toby,
I never cou'd endure this Looby.
Full well my Father knows, the Letcher,
What 'tis to love old Cony-catcher:
And I must do't, whate'er come after;
You know I am the Father's Daughter.
My Case is his; and Pyrrhus carries
A Thiefs look too, as well as Paris.
Let 'em all crack of Deeds and Wonders,
Of their high Birth, of Claps, and Thunders,
Of Jove and Juno, and the rest on 'em,
Thou art as well born as the best on 'em.
30
Stand by, and see my Friends abus'd?
I've one way left before my dying,
And that's to break my heart with crying.
But what does't value while he lies out?
For shou'd I cry my very Eyes out,
Cat after kind, I can't escape,
We're all too subject to a Rape.
I need not tell you how a Swan
Ravish'd my Granny for a man:
How Hippodame the Youth did gull her,
And drove her in an open Sculler:
Poor Tindar ravish'd by a Boy,
And afterwards sent back from Troy.
I scarce remember it, and yet
Now I think on't, I remember it.
So like the rest of my curst Kindred,
I'm kept from thee by such as hinder it.
31
I'll burn if ever this had been;
He wou'd not, to part man and wife,
Do such a trick to save his life.
Ye Gods, what was my Accusation,
To come of such a Generation!
My Dam, that picture of ill luck,
She was as true as ever struck.
'Tis a strange Race, while she was chief in't,
If there be neither Whore nor Thief in't.
Scarce had my Father turn'd his back,
To Paris she became a Crack:
As soon as e'er the Wittal left her,
Who like a fool run madding after,
He to the Wars, she with her Cully,
While I was left without a Bully;
For that same Booby Pyrrhus he
Had never one good look of me.
Orestes is my whole delight;
But if you'll have me, you must fight:
Pyrrhus detains me since the War'gan,
That's all the good I got by th'bargan.
To come of such a Generation!
My Dam, that picture of ill luck,
She was as true as ever struck.
'Tis a strange Race, while she was chief in't,
If there be neither Whore nor Thief in't.
Scarce had my Father turn'd his back,
To Paris she became a Crack:
As soon as e'er the Wittal left her,
Who like a fool run madding after,
He to the Wars, she with her Cully,
While I was left without a Bully;
For that same Booby Pyrrhus he
Had never one good look of me.
32
But if you'll have me, you must fight:
Pyrrhus detains me since the War'gan,
That's all the good I got by th'bargan.
All day I sit, while Gossips chat,
As melancholy as a Cat:
Sometimes I grunt, sometimes I grumble,
And all the night I toss and tumble:
At sight of him I burst out so,
I make a Chamber-pot o'erflow:
And while I slabber, spit, and drivil,
I hate him as I do the Devel.
Tho under Canopy of Diaper,
I shun him as I wou'd a Viper:
And when he gets within my Quarters,
I cry, Orest, beshrew your Garters.
That very fancy makes me do
The thing which I shou'd act with you.
Orestes, come, and make him flie for't;
I'll be thy Wench, or else I'll die for't.
As melancholy as a Cat:
Sometimes I grunt, sometimes I grumble,
And all the night I toss and tumble:
At sight of him I burst out so,
I make a Chamber-pot o'erflow:
And while I slabber, spit, and drivil,
I hate him as I do the Devel.
Tho under Canopy of Diaper,
I shun him as I wou'd a Viper:
And when he gets within my Quarters,
I cry, Orest, beshrew your Garters.
That very fancy makes me do
The thing which I shou'd act with you.
33
I'll be thy Wench, or else I'll die for't.
| The wits paraphras'd | |