The Folly of love A new satyr against woman. The Second Edition, Corrected and Enlarged. To which is now added the Bachelors Lettany, by the same hand [i.e. Richard Ames] |
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 | The Folly of love |  |
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THE Folly of Love.
A SATYR.
Happy was Man, when first by Nature made
The welcome guest of Eden's blisful shade;
The Godhead then, pleas'd the lov'd work to see,
With joy proclaim'd a Publick Jubilee;
Seraphick Angels Hallelujahs sung,
And Paradice with joyful Ecchoes rung;
The jocund Sphers their sweetest Consorts play,
All Nature smil'd; Oh, 'twas a glorious day.
The Sun put on his brightest beams of Light,
And seem'd to bid defiance to the Night;
The Birds exprest their joy on ev'ry bough,
The Fishes leapt, while Beasts fell prostrate low,
With awful reverence Man they all Ador'd,
And ev'ry Creature own'd him for their Lord:
Ev'n the wild beasts who have been Rebels fince,
Then practis'd Non-resistance to their Prince;
When for his pleasure he dispos'd to rest,
No sawcy Insect durst his Sleep molest;
In gentle slumbers undisturb'd he lay,
Till thoughts refresh'd rows'd drowsy sloth away;
Lord of himself, his passions not enslav'd;
He nothing wanted, for he never crav'd.
The welcome guest of Eden's blisful shade;
The Godhead then, pleas'd the lov'd work to see,
With joy proclaim'd a Publick Jubilee;
Seraphick Angels Hallelujahs sung,
And Paradice with joyful Ecchoes rung;
The jocund Sphers their sweetest Consorts play,
All Nature smil'd; Oh, 'twas a glorious day.
The Sun put on his brightest beams of Light,
And seem'd to bid defiance to the Night;
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The Fishes leapt, while Beasts fell prostrate low,
With awful reverence Man they all Ador'd,
And ev'ry Creature own'd him for their Lord:
Ev'n the wild beasts who have been Rebels fince,
Then practis'd Non-resistance to their Prince;
When for his pleasure he dispos'd to rest,
No sawcy Insect durst his Sleep molest;
In gentle slumbers undisturb'd he lay,
Till thoughts refresh'd rows'd drowsy sloth away;
Lord of himself, his passions not enslav'd;
He nothing wanted, for he never crav'd.
The Devil grin'd, with malice burst, to find
This happyer Eden of Man's tranquil Mind;
He saw't with Envy, whilst his working thought
VVas busi'd how the Ruin might be wrought;
New-minted Mischeifs rumble in his brain,
Each false Stamp'd Coin is melted down again,
'Till refin'd Fancy fix'd on Woman; then
Resolv'd that Innovation to begin;
Beauty's the chief Ingredient of his Art,
T'out rival Nature with a Counterpart;
Beauty that outward Species of false Grace,
The sly smooth witchcraft of a fair young Face.
This happyer Eden of Man's tranquil Mind;
He saw't with Envy, whilst his working thought
VVas busi'd how the Ruin might be wrought;
New-minted Mischeifs rumble in his brain,
Each false Stamp'd Coin is melted down again,
'Till refin'd Fancy fix'd on Woman; then
Resolv'd that Innovation to begin;
Beauty's the chief Ingredient of his Art,
T'out rival Nature with a Counterpart;
Beauty that outward Species of false Grace,
The sly smooth witchcraft of a fair young Face.
It hapned on a too too fatal time,
As Adam did a spacious Mountain climb
Of Natures works, a prospect to survey,
A lovely Grove invited him to stay;
Where spreading Beach, and stately Elm afford
A pleasing shade to the Creation's Lord:
Hard by, a murm'ring Stream did softly creep,
On whose green Banks he laid him down to sleep:
But whilst in pleasant Dreams intrans'd he lay,
Some Spirit came and stole his Rib away,
And of that crooked shapeless thing did frame
The Worlds great Plague and did it Woman name.
As Adam did a spacious Mountain climb
Of Natures works, a prospect to survey,
A lovely Grove invited him to stay;
Where spreading Beach, and stately Elm afford
A pleasing shade to the Creation's Lord:
Hard by, a murm'ring Stream did softly creep,
On whose green Banks he laid him down to sleep:
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Some Spirit came and stole his Rib away,
And of that crooked shapeless thing did frame
The Worlds great Plague and did it Woman name.
But when (alas) thus, from his sleeping side
This fair Perdition, man's ill destin'd Bride
Arose, new modell'd in her beautious Pride.
The Sun surpriz'd at th'unexpected sight,
Retir'd in haste with wonder and affright;
Th'astonish'd Angels too seem'd much amaz'd
All on the unknown Monster doubting gaz'd;
The work they knew was perfected in Man,
Admiring whence this Novelty began:
Their pleasant Notes the Birds forget to sing,
VVith mournful Airs the Hills and Vallies ring;
Fish to their Ouzy banks return in shoals,
Beasts to their Dens, and Insects to their holes;
All Nature groan'd with a Prophetick fear
Foreseeing the sad ills would come by her.
This fair Perdition, man's ill destin'd Bride
Arose, new modell'd in her beautious Pride.
The Sun surpriz'd at th'unexpected sight,
Retir'd in haste with wonder and affright;
Th'astonish'd Angels too seem'd much amaz'd
All on the unknown Monster doubting gaz'd;
The work they knew was perfected in Man,
Admiring whence this Novelty began:
Their pleasant Notes the Birds forget to sing,
VVith mournful Airs the Hills and Vallies ring;
Fish to their Ouzy banks return in shoals,
Beasts to their Dens, and Insects to their holes;
All Nature groan'd with a Prophetick fear
Foreseeing the sad ills would come by her.
He wak'd, with wonder and Devotion fill'd,
When he her goodly Shape and Form beheld:
With gazing his amazement was increast,
He thought she was some Goddess at the least:
But when the thing was better understood,
He found like him she was but Flesh and Blood.
Without Priests Aid he took her for his Bride,
And laid the smiling Mischief by his side.
Love's solemn Rights not long had been fulfil'd,
But his new Spouse perceiv'd she was with Child;
And tho he strove by all kind arts to please,
Yet all in vain, she could not be at ease,
Until by stealth to save her longing, she
Had tasted of the one Forbidden Tree:
The fatal Morsel hardly swallow'd down,
She found the angry Face of Heav'n to Frown;
Yet so prevailing was her Malice grown,
She was resolv'd not to be Curst alone,
And therefore with insinuating smiles,
Her too believing Husband soon beguiles:
The baneful Treat soon opens both their Eyes,
To take a prospect of their Miseries:
With Melancholly sighs they mourn their Fate,
And Eden with regret they Abdicate.
When he her goodly Shape and Form beheld:
With gazing his amazement was increast,
He thought she was some Goddess at the least:
But when the thing was better understood,
He found like him she was but Flesh and Blood.
Without Priests Aid he took her for his Bride,
And laid the smiling Mischief by his side.
Love's solemn Rights not long had been fulfil'd,
But his new Spouse perceiv'd she was with Child;
And tho he strove by all kind arts to please,
Yet all in vain, she could not be at ease,
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Had tasted of the one Forbidden Tree:
The fatal Morsel hardly swallow'd down,
She found the angry Face of Heav'n to Frown;
Yet so prevailing was her Malice grown,
She was resolv'd not to be Curst alone,
And therefore with insinuating smiles,
Her too believing Husband soon beguiles:
The baneful Treat soon opens both their Eyes,
To take a prospect of their Miseries:
With Melancholly sighs they mourn their Fate,
And Eden with regret they Abdicate.
From her accursed Loyns have sprung a Race,
The VVorlds, their Own, and all Mankinds Disgrace.
Woman! at speaking of the very Name,
Nature starts back and hides her self in shame.
VVoman! the fatal Authress of our Fall:
VVoman! the sure Destroyer of us all;
Nature, 'tis own'd, did all her skill display,
And made their Bodies of the finest Clay;
She labour'd with the most industrious care.
To make their outsides beautiful and Fair;
How all their Limbs in just proportion rise,
How smooth the Muscles of their Arms and Thighs;
Nor can the Down which on the Swans is seen
Exceed the softness of their milk white Skin;
But that which must to all her Art give place,
Is womans tempting wonderworking Face.
Like Sodom's Apples pleasant to the Eve,
VVithin pale rottenness, and ashes lye;
Their very sight does youthful Blood enrage,
And proves as fatal to declining Age.
Oh! could we Live without that cloven Sex,
VVhose only pleasure's to torment and vex,
Fate would, no doubt, some better method find,
To propagate, and multiply Mankind.
Angels from their Abodes might hither fly,
And bless mankind with their society.
But since 'tis vain to wish where there's no cure,
And we must still those needful Ills endure,
In their own colours we'll the Sex display,
And he who after that can Love 'em, may.
'Tis true, but little hopes can ere be had
The VVorlds, their Own, and all Mankinds Disgrace.
Woman! at speaking of the very Name,
Nature starts back and hides her self in shame.
VVoman! the fatal Authress of our Fall:
VVoman! the sure Destroyer of us all;
Nature, 'tis own'd, did all her skill display,
And made their Bodies of the finest Clay;
She labour'd with the most industrious care.
To make their outsides beautiful and Fair;
How all their Limbs in just proportion rise,
How smooth the Muscles of their Arms and Thighs;
Nor can the Down which on the Swans is seen
Exceed the softness of their milk white Skin;
But that which must to all her Art give place,
Is womans tempting wonderworking Face.
Like Sodom's Apples pleasant to the Eve,
VVithin pale rottenness, and ashes lye;
Their very sight does youthful Blood enrage,
And proves as fatal to declining Age.
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VVhose only pleasure's to torment and vex,
Fate would, no doubt, some better method find,
To propagate, and multiply Mankind.
Angels from their Abodes might hither fly,
And bless mankind with their society.
But since 'tis vain to wish where there's no cure,
And we must still those needful Ills endure,
In their own colours we'll the Sex display,
And he who after that can Love 'em, may.
To mend what is incorrigibly bad;
Yet, Satyr, thy severest VVhip prepare
To lash the sex so very vile yet fair.
Be just, spare neither Quality, nor Age,
From Girl, just fit for Man, to Matron sage;
From Dunghill raker up to Lady fine,
Dressing all day, in Play-house Box to shine;
Recount their various Arts, their subtle Wiles,
Their artful Tears, and their more artful Smiles;
Their numerous Vices, which they Vertue Paint,
And from the Woman separate the Saint,
That so unwary heedless Man may shun
Those fatal Gulphs where sinking Youth's undone;
By Mermaid melody's decoy'd, in haste
They plunge i'th' unseen Whirlepool's, sink so fast,
Estate and Vigour in a moment's Lost.
Of all the various seeds of Vice which rest
Within the compass of the Female Breast;
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Is Pride, the earliest sin the Devil knew:
But such success does t'imitation fall,
The Copy far exceeds th'Original.
In Pride, so quickly they proficient grow,
That Babes the Nipples do not sooner know.
Should any daring Pen for Subject chuse,
What various Dresses Modern Females use,
What Antick Habits their own Mothers wore,
And what was us'd an Hundred Years before;
Their Fardingales, Stiff-Ruffs, and all the train
Of Fashions us'd in Old Queen Bess's Reign;
Could he describe the Rise and Pedigree
Of Monumental Top Knot Gallantry,
Expose their Arts (which they esteem no sin)
To mend the Face, and Meliorate the Skin;
Of Washes, Paints, Perfumes, display their Skill,
The bare Relation would more Volumes fill
Than are in Oxford or the Vatican,
And reach from thence to China or Japan.
Ev'n the raw Country Girl just come to Town,
In her Straw-Hat and Linsy Wolsy Gown,
Rather than she unmodish would appear,
And come to Church in her plain rusty Gear,
By Envy, and by Inclination led,
VVill for New Rigging pawn her Maidenhead,
All on a sudden grows so wondrous pretty,
The City-Mantua hides plain Country-Betty.
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Stood tott'ring upon Life's extreamest Brink;
Those who in spight of Nature will be Young,
At Theatres and Churches where they throng,
Are (but with Laughter) by the Gallants seen
Drest and set off like Girls of Seventeen.
Lord! with a what uncommon charming Grace,
That fine Settee becomes a Wainscot Face!
How Mother Shipton Looks drest up in Point,
VVho, tho her Face with Paint she so anoint,
That like a Joynted Baby she appears,
So sleek, so plump, so ruddy, and so clear,
Yet all can never hide her Threescore Years:
But so unlimited a Vice is Pride,
That Nature's Faults it will not only hide,
But even as far as serves to cheat the Eye,
Does her Defects by mimick Art supply.
Imagine now from Play-house just return'd
A Lady, who (when there) in Fancy burn'd;
Uneasy by some disappointments made,
Preparing to undress her self for Bed;
Her curled Locks (mistaken for her own)
Are in confusion on her Toylet thrown;
Next, her Glass-Eye put nicely in a Box,
VVith Ivory Tooth, which never had the Pox:
Her stiff Steel Bodies, which her Bunch did hide,
Are with her Artificial Buttocks laid aside,
Thus she who did but a small hour ago,
Like Angel, or Terrestrial Goddess show,
Slides into Loathsom Sheets, where since we've fixt her,
Leave her, of Pride and Lust an equal mixture.
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Not all the Malice joyn'd with all the Wit,
With which ill-natur'd Poets ever writ,
Could ever yet describe the various kinds
Of Womens boundless Lusts, which strictly binds
Their Souls and Bodies so, they seem to be
Compos'd of nothing else but Lechery:
The forward Girl, who scarce can write fourteen,
Thinks Days are Ages till the sport she's seen;
Although her amorous Nest is hardly Feather'd,
Nay, scarcely ripe, yet longs she to be gather'd.
Ev'n they whom pious Education fools,
Or else are bound by strict Monastick Rules,
Yet burn with such an inward Lustful Flame,
As all their little Arts can never tame.
With which ill-natur'd Poets ever writ,
Could ever yet describe the various kinds
Of Womens boundless Lusts, which strictly binds
Their Souls and Bodies so, they seem to be
Compos'd of nothing else but Lechery:
The forward Girl, who scarce can write fourteen,
Thinks Days are Ages till the sport she's seen;
Although her amorous Nest is hardly Feather'd,
Nay, scarcely ripe, yet longs she to be gather'd.
Ev'n they whom pious Education fools,
Or else are bound by strict Monastick Rules,
Yet burn with such an inward Lustful Flame,
As all their little Arts can never tame.
Lap Dogs and D---s serve as much to cure
Their customary raging Calenture,
As Men in Fevers, when they drink small Beer,
Which makes the Fit return but more severe.
All the Endeauours for to quench desire,
Serve only to promote the hidden Fire.
Lust's the first Lesson which they always learn,
'Ere they the diff'rence of the Sex discern;
But that at last by airy Notions got,
Is the whole Subject of their private Chat;
Nay, Bawds half drunk, at a young Bastards Christning,
More lewdly cannot talk, than I (who listning)
Have heard young Virgins in a corner prattle
About some Notions broacht by Aristotle.
But since the Name of Lust is too love severe,
Too harsh and rugged for the Female Ear,
We'll call it Love, and under that disguise,
Observe their various close Hippocrisies.
Their customary raging Calenture,
As Men in Fevers, when they drink small Beer,
Which makes the Fit return but more severe.
All the Endeauours for to quench desire,
Serve only to promote the hidden Fire.
Lust's the first Lesson which they always learn,
'Ere they the diff'rence of the Sex discern;
But that at last by airy Notions got,
Is the whole Subject of their private Chat;
Nay, Bawds half drunk, at a young Bastards Christning,
More lewdly cannot talk, than I (who listning)
Have heard young Virgins in a corner prattle
About some Notions broacht by Aristotle.
But since the Name of Lust is too love severe,
Too harsh and rugged for the Female Ear,
We'll call it Love, and under that disguise,
Observe their various close Hippocrisies.
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By arbitrary Custom, long since curst,
In Love, the Women must not offer first:
They must appear indifferent and cold,
And when the Youth has all his Passions told,
Put on a forc'd Disguise, and gravely say,
What pity, Sir, fine words are thrown away!
In other things I'm much at your command,
But not one word of Love I understand;
Yet by her Eyes, which best the Soul express,
Her Inclinations are not hard to guess.
In Love, the Women must not offer first:
They must appear indifferent and cold,
And when the Youth has all his Passions told,
Put on a forc'd Disguise, and gravely say,
What pity, Sir, fine words are thrown away!
In other things I'm much at your command,
But not one word of Love I understand;
Yet by her Eyes, which best the Soul express,
Her Inclinations are not hard to guess.
Suppose a Youth most Fortunately blest
With all the Charms that ere his Sex possest;
Transform'd by Love into a whining Fool,
A Womans Play-thing, and a Chamber Tool:
If she be Proud, (as where's the She is not?)
When crouching at her Feet she sees the Sot;
With greater Pride the Turk did never seem,
T'insult on prostrate slaves, than she on him:
She slights his Presents, and neglects his Passion,
And makes his Torments but her Recreation;
But yet his Flatteries have this Effect,
In punishing her feigned cold Neglect;
Her Pride and Lust they so much serve t'inflame,
That she at last, in order them to tame,
Her Wishes to some Stallion does impart,
And his strong Back must ease her Am'rous Smart.
—Thus what to Love and Merit was deny'd,
Is by the Favourite Groom, or Footman try'd.
Thus tho the Nymph to him appear so coy,
She lets another tast the hidden Joy;
For the whole Sex agree it sha'nt be said,
Nature made mouths which were not to be Fed.
Sometimes a Crust goes with more Gusto down,
Than all French Cickshaws and Ragous in Town:
Curst Fate of Women who do always run
In those Extreams which most they strive to shun.
But grant her Gen'rous, Affable and Kind,
And not to Pride or Tyranny inclin'd;
Easy when Courted, and dispos'd to yield,
And leave Philander Master of the Field.
Though the last Favours are allow'd, and he
Proud of the New obtain'd Felicity,
Loves ev'n to Dotage, knows no Heav'n but she,
And thinks the Gods not half so blest as he:
Yet in the midst of all his rapt'rous Joys,
Before his Person or Enjoyment Cloys,
She Jilts him; and to heighten his disgrace,
Kisses some new pretender 'fore his Face.
Some little time she's kind to this New Lover,
But quickly does some cause of change discover:
Weary of him she to another flies,
Swears he's the only person she can prize;
But having him two days, five hours, three quarters,
Leaves him to Hang in penitential Garters;
Still apt to change, to give the Sex their due,
They scarcely are to their own Wishes true.
They love, they hate, and yet they know not why,
Constant in nothing but Inconstancy.
When you of Nature can divert the Course,
And make the Loadstone leave its 'tractive force.
Prove Snow is Black, and wash the Negro White,
And make the Sun appear in darkest Night;
Fix Quick-silver, and make the Sea stand still,
And cause the Clouds no longer Rain distil;
VVhen this by Art you can effect and do,
Then I'll believe a Woman can be true.
With all the Charms that ere his Sex possest;
Transform'd by Love into a whining Fool,
A Womans Play-thing, and a Chamber Tool:
If she be Proud, (as where's the She is not?)
When crouching at her Feet she sees the Sot;
With greater Pride the Turk did never seem,
T'insult on prostrate slaves, than she on him:
She slights his Presents, and neglects his Passion,
And makes his Torments but her Recreation;
But yet his Flatteries have this Effect,
In punishing her feigned cold Neglect;
Her Pride and Lust they so much serve t'inflame,
That she at last, in order them to tame,
Her Wishes to some Stallion does impart,
And his strong Back must ease her Am'rous Smart.
—Thus what to Love and Merit was deny'd,
Is by the Favourite Groom, or Footman try'd.
Thus tho the Nymph to him appear so coy,
She lets another tast the hidden Joy;
For the whole Sex agree it sha'nt be said,
Nature made mouths which were not to be Fed.
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Than all French Cickshaws and Ragous in Town:
Curst Fate of Women who do always run
In those Extreams which most they strive to shun.
But grant her Gen'rous, Affable and Kind,
And not to Pride or Tyranny inclin'd;
Easy when Courted, and dispos'd to yield,
And leave Philander Master of the Field.
Though the last Favours are allow'd, and he
Proud of the New obtain'd Felicity,
Loves ev'n to Dotage, knows no Heav'n but she,
And thinks the Gods not half so blest as he:
Yet in the midst of all his rapt'rous Joys,
Before his Person or Enjoyment Cloys,
She Jilts him; and to heighten his disgrace,
Kisses some new pretender 'fore his Face.
Some little time she's kind to this New Lover,
But quickly does some cause of change discover:
Weary of him she to another flies,
Swears he's the only person she can prize;
But having him two days, five hours, three quarters,
Leaves him to Hang in penitential Garters;
Still apt to change, to give the Sex their due,
They scarcely are to their own Wishes true.
They love, they hate, and yet they know not why,
Constant in nothing but Inconstancy.
When you of Nature can divert the Course,
And make the Loadstone leave its 'tractive force.
Prove Snow is Black, and wash the Negro White,
And make the Sun appear in darkest Night;
Fix Quick-silver, and make the Sea stand still,
And cause the Clouds no longer Rain distil;
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Then I'll believe a Woman can be true.
But hold, some Female Advocate I hear,
Who blames my Satyr as if too severe.
If some (says he) are fickle, are there none
VVhose Vertues may for others Faults attone?
VVho built the Mausoleum, which loud Fame
Does justly one of the VVorlds Wonders name?
But Artemesa, whose true love was such,
That her own Body was not thought too much
For her dear Husbands Ashes to find room,
And to his Mem'ry did Erect that Tomb;
Nay, in this Vicious Age some few there are,
Behind that Queens Example come not far.
Who blames my Satyr as if too severe.
If some (says he) are fickle, are there none
VVhose Vertues may for others Faults attone?
VVho built the Mausoleum, which loud Fame
Does justly one of the VVorlds Wonders name?
But Artemesa, whose true love was such,
That her own Body was not thought too much
For her dear Husbands Ashes to find room,
And to his Mem'ry did Erect that Tomb;
Nay, in this Vicious Age some few there are,
Behind that Queens Example come not far.
'Tis own'd; but such Examples are as scarce
As five-legg'd Calves, three Moons, or Blazing Stars;
For when into the World such Monsters creep,
Nature is Retrograde, or half asleep,
As five-legg'd Calves, three Moons, or Blazing Stars;
For when into the World such Monsters creep,
Nature is Retrograde, or half asleep,
Nature, on whom we Justly lay the blame,
Which so inclines us still to act our shame,
E'ne in fruition fobs the boasted Gains,
And with short pleasure baulks the mighty pains;
Nauseous the Bliss, a nasty fulsom Toy,
VVhich we regret, e'ne while we yet enjoy;
So short, so trifling, there's no comfort in it;
'Tis thought, begun, and finisht in a minute;
And when the Eager transitory sport is o're,
VVe lie like Fishes gasping on the shoar.
Oh Nature, Nature! Rigid are thy Laws,
Since blindly thus we must submit our Cause.
Which so inclines us still to act our shame,
E'ne in fruition fobs the boasted Gains,
And with short pleasure baulks the mighty pains;
Nauseous the Bliss, a nasty fulsom Toy,
VVhich we regret, e'ne while we yet enjoy;
So short, so trifling, there's no comfort in it;
'Tis thought, begun, and finisht in a minute;
And when the Eager transitory sport is o're,
VVe lie like Fishes gasping on the shoar.
Oh Nature, Nature! Rigid are thy Laws,
Since blindly thus we must submit our Cause.
VVho without Horror, or Amazement can
Survey that hideous Precipice of Man?
Or with his Pen sufficiently deplore
That Fatal Gulph we call a Common Whore?
VVho can express her Arts of drawing in
Unwary Youths to the beloved sin?
VVhen caught, what stratagems she still prepares,
To keep them blindfold in the fatal Snares.
So soon she learnt the Linen lifting Trade,
That she forgets she ever was a Maid:
In Arts obscene so very 'xpert and clear,
The Devil himself may come to learn of her:
For should all Tricks of Female lewdness fail,
They all might be reviv'd in Posture Mall;
The Sexes Harlequin or Scaramouch,
VVhose various Scenes of Nakedness are such,
As e'n makes Nature blush.—But hold, my Muse,
This Subject will too much thy thoughts abuse:
Let's leave her, who to Lewdness sets no bounds,
The Lady Abbess of the Fleetstreet Nuns.
Survey that hideous Precipice of Man?
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That Fatal Gulph we call a Common Whore?
VVho can express her Arts of drawing in
Unwary Youths to the beloved sin?
VVhen caught, what stratagems she still prepares,
To keep them blindfold in the fatal Snares.
So soon she learnt the Linen lifting Trade,
That she forgets she ever was a Maid:
In Arts obscene so very 'xpert and clear,
The Devil himself may come to learn of her:
For should all Tricks of Female lewdness fail,
They all might be reviv'd in Posture Mall;
The Sexes Harlequin or Scaramouch,
VVhose various Scenes of Nakedness are such,
As e'n makes Nature blush.—But hold, my Muse,
This Subject will too much thy thoughts abuse:
Let's leave her, who to Lewdness sets no bounds,
The Lady Abbess of the Fleetstreet Nuns.
Their Youth with Claps, and Lust just worn away,
And all their Charms beginning to decay;
VVith Mead and Bottle Beer, they call Cock-Ale,
And some young Cracks, who waiting never fail,
Commence Grave Bauds, and keep a Vaulting School,
VVhere Callow Youths their Health and Money fool;
VVhile they by Age Venereal Sports forbid;
Yet highly pleas'd to see what once they did.
They live in one continued Scene of Lust,
Till Pox or Gallows turn them into Dust.
And all their Charms beginning to decay;
VVith Mead and Bottle Beer, they call Cock-Ale,
And some young Cracks, who waiting never fail,
Commence Grave Bauds, and keep a Vaulting School,
VVhere Callow Youths their Health and Money fool;
VVhile they by Age Venereal Sports forbid;
Yet highly pleas'd to see what once they did.
They live in one continued Scene of Lust,
Till Pox or Gallows turn them into Dust.
Kept Mistresses my Satyr next will find,
A Trade which is but Whoring once refin'd;
A sort of Jilts, so base, and so untrue,
As VVhetstones-Park or Fleetstreet never knew.
In former times they were content, and proud,
With the small Pittance which the Spark allow'd,
And took it for a Favour seldom known,
If twice a Year blest with a New Silk Gown;
But now so termigant and haughty grown,
That ere kind Keeper steps into her Bed,
With Coach and Six she must be furnished;
Have Settlement and Joynture made her Honour,
And take such State and Quality upon her;
Sit in the Front of the King's Box at Plays,
And Rival Lady Dutchess to her Face,
Lavish out more in one Spring-Garden-Treat,
Than would provide a First-Rate Ship with Meat.
While Limberham her Lust can ne're suffice,
But what his unperforming Back denies,
The Footman and the Coachman's Brawn supplies;
Such Slaves they are to Interest and Gold,
That should a Man both Impotent and Old,
Worn out with Claps, the Palsy, or the Gout,
By some device find Bellamira out;
Bid but a Brace of Hundreds more a year,
This Old Dry Lecher will the Jilt prefer
Before the Youth whose Blood his Passion warms,
And can each Night with pleasure fill her Arms.
Nothing in Nature ever was more common,
Than the kept Jilting, prostituted Woman.
A Trade which is but Whoring once refin'd;
A sort of Jilts, so base, and so untrue,
As VVhetstones-Park or Fleetstreet never knew.
13
With the small Pittance which the Spark allow'd,
And took it for a Favour seldom known,
If twice a Year blest with a New Silk Gown;
But now so termigant and haughty grown,
That ere kind Keeper steps into her Bed,
With Coach and Six she must be furnished;
Have Settlement and Joynture made her Honour,
And take such State and Quality upon her;
Sit in the Front of the King's Box at Plays,
And Rival Lady Dutchess to her Face,
Lavish out more in one Spring-Garden-Treat,
Than would provide a First-Rate Ship with Meat.
While Limberham her Lust can ne're suffice,
But what his unperforming Back denies,
The Footman and the Coachman's Brawn supplies;
Such Slaves they are to Interest and Gold,
That should a Man both Impotent and Old,
Worn out with Claps, the Palsy, or the Gout,
By some device find Bellamira out;
Bid but a Brace of Hundreds more a year,
This Old Dry Lecher will the Jilt prefer
Before the Youth whose Blood his Passion warms,
And can each Night with pleasure fill her Arms.
Nothing in Nature ever was more common,
Than the kept Jilting, prostituted Woman.
Nay, those that do to Vertue most pretend,
Yet seldom are without their private Friend,
By whom in secret often they'r carest,
For stolen pleasures always are the best;
Manag'd although with greatest privacy,
They sometimes get a tell tale Tympany;
And then the little Infants cries proclaim
The Father's Frolick, and the Mothers Shame:
But if the Intrigue's so closely carry'd on,
Not the least Item of the matter's known;
How will she of her Vertue loudly prate,
And blush at Bawdy, yet well knows what's what;
Abroad 'gainst Lewdness how will she exclaim,
Yet daily practice what she does condemn:
If after all, this Damsel seeming Chast,
By Husband Lover's courted at the last;
With that success he will not be deny'd,
But have this suppos'd Virgin for his Bride.
Lord! what a stir is made with Alum-Water,
And such Astringents for to hide the matter!
That she who knows as much as did her Mother,
May seem a Maid, and former Amours smother,
And in his Arms be fearful of a touch:
But hold; of this enough, if not too much.
Yet seldom are without their private Friend,
By whom in secret often they'r carest,
For stolen pleasures always are the best;
Manag'd although with greatest privacy,
They sometimes get a tell tale Tympany;
14
The Father's Frolick, and the Mothers Shame:
But if the Intrigue's so closely carry'd on,
Not the least Item of the matter's known;
How will she of her Vertue loudly prate,
And blush at Bawdy, yet well knows what's what;
Abroad 'gainst Lewdness how will she exclaim,
Yet daily practice what she does condemn:
If after all, this Damsel seeming Chast,
By Husband Lover's courted at the last;
With that success he will not be deny'd,
But have this suppos'd Virgin for his Bride.
Lord! what a stir is made with Alum-Water,
And such Astringents for to hide the matter!
That she who knows as much as did her Mother,
May seem a Maid, and former Amours smother,
And in his Arms be fearful of a touch:
But hold; of this enough, if not too much.
Of all the Plagues attending human Life,
The greatest sure is that we call a Wife;
Nor is there a more pitied Wretch than he,
That's doom'd to Matrimonial Slavery:
Unquiet days and nights with endless noise
Are the sad consequence of such a choice:
For little did he think what Mischiefs lay
In those hard words, for ever and for aye.
Those holy words which the sly Clergy use
To cajole people in a fatal Noose;
A Charm no after-Magick can unty,
Till both, or either opportunely Die.
A Wife, what is she but a Wench by Law,
Which tame Fools wed to keep themselves in awe?
For sum up all the Curses which befall
Unhappy Man; the Marry'd has 'em all.
The greatest sure is that we call a Wife;
Nor is there a more pitied Wretch than he,
That's doom'd to Matrimonial Slavery:
Unquiet days and nights with endless noise
Are the sad consequence of such a choice:
For little did he think what Mischiefs lay
In those hard words, for ever and for aye.
Those holy words which the sly Clergy use
To cajole people in a fatal Noose;
A Charm no after-Magick can unty,
Till both, or either opportunely Die.
A Wife, what is she but a Wench by Law,
Which tame Fools wed to keep themselves in awe?
15
Unhappy Man; the Marry'd has 'em all.
If Jealousie, that VVild-fire of the Brain,
Does once her serious thinking entertain,
Bred by Suspicion, and by Fancy Nurst,
No Tyger ever was so Fierce and Curst,
Abroad she like some Hellish Fury seems,
At home still haunted by her own vain Dreams;
Unquiet, never with her self at peace,
Till some kind Rope, or Poyson, give her ease,
Fit Physick for so desp'rate a Disease.
Does once her serious thinking entertain,
Bred by Suspicion, and by Fancy Nurst,
No Tyger ever was so Fierce and Curst,
Abroad she like some Hellish Fury seems,
At home still haunted by her own vain Dreams;
Unquiet, never with her self at peace,
Till some kind Rope, or Poyson, give her ease,
Fit Physick for so desp'rate a Disease.
If Appetite to change, or some Disgust,
Adds a New Fuel to her private Lust;
It is resolv'd, nor shall thy Fate, O Man!
Resist her Vow; for do what e're thou can,
No Bolts, Bars, Locks, can Fetter Inclination,
Thou art a Cuckold by Predestination.
(Hard Fate of Custom, that the Faults of VVife,
Should thus disgrace the Husband during Life,)
Either, of Credit Negligent, she cares
Not who her Loose Intrigues both sees and hears;
Tho at Noon-day to'r House the Heroes rush,
For she has long time since forgot to Blush;
Or else by 'pointment in a Dark Alcove,
Design'd for all the stolen Sweets of Love;
Meets her Gallant, and opening all her Charms,
Flies eagerly to his desired Arms:
My Dear, my Love, my Life, my Soul, she cries,
(Still mingling every Period with a Kiss.)
How blest am I! methinks in Thee I find
All that was made to pleasure Woman-kind.
Lord! what a Nauseous thing my Husband's grown:
Now than art here, I fancy I have none:
Thank Fate who this kind meeting did allow,
VVe'll drink the Cuckold's Health before we go;
Faith 'tis an honest dull performing Tool,
By Nature fram'd to be a Womans Fool:
But thou, my Dear, hast found the only Art,
At once to Conquer and Enjoy my Heart:
Then smiles: Mean while the Gallant strives to prove
His Vigour in the brisk Assaults of Love.
Nor is she idle, for some Learned Pen
Assures us, that in those Affairs—
Women are much more active than the Men.
The little God allows the finisht Bliss,
A Parting Bottle, and a Parting Kiss;
And when to meet again, for that's the Text,
Each Visit proves but Prologue to the next;
If envious Fate unluckily deny
Th'appointed meeting, Fancy must supply,
Deluded Pleasure, she with Art refines,
(A secret still unknown to Vulgar Minds,)
And when the Wretch whom Law does Husband name,
Attempts to quench her everlasting Flame,
Ev'n in the Act of the most kind Embrace,
When Arms, Legs, Thighs are joyn'd, and Face to Face,
As the forc'd Pulse beats to the coming Joy,
She shuts her Eyes lest that loath'd Surfeit cloy.
And thus by strong Imagination she,
Her absent Gallant hugs in Effigie,
And fancy's her dear Cuckold Spouse is he;
While poor Cornuto humbly drudges on,
Till blest (with what he ne're begat) a Son;
Then at the Christning, to compleat the Jest,
The modest Gallant's chosen from the rest
For Godfather, pleased with the double Joy.
Of Getting and to Name the little Boy.
Adds a New Fuel to her private Lust;
It is resolv'd, nor shall thy Fate, O Man!
Resist her Vow; for do what e're thou can,
No Bolts, Bars, Locks, can Fetter Inclination,
Thou art a Cuckold by Predestination.
(Hard Fate of Custom, that the Faults of VVife,
Should thus disgrace the Husband during Life,)
Either, of Credit Negligent, she cares
Not who her Loose Intrigues both sees and hears;
Tho at Noon-day to'r House the Heroes rush,
For she has long time since forgot to Blush;
Or else by 'pointment in a Dark Alcove,
Design'd for all the stolen Sweets of Love;
Meets her Gallant, and opening all her Charms,
Flies eagerly to his desired Arms:
My Dear, my Love, my Life, my Soul, she cries,
(Still mingling every Period with a Kiss.)
How blest am I! methinks in Thee I find
All that was made to pleasure Woman-kind.
16
Now than art here, I fancy I have none:
Thank Fate who this kind meeting did allow,
VVe'll drink the Cuckold's Health before we go;
Faith 'tis an honest dull performing Tool,
By Nature fram'd to be a Womans Fool:
But thou, my Dear, hast found the only Art,
At once to Conquer and Enjoy my Heart:
Then smiles: Mean while the Gallant strives to prove
His Vigour in the brisk Assaults of Love.
Nor is she idle, for some Learned Pen
Assures us, that in those Affairs—
Women are much more active than the Men.
The little God allows the finisht Bliss,
A Parting Bottle, and a Parting Kiss;
And when to meet again, for that's the Text,
Each Visit proves but Prologue to the next;
If envious Fate unluckily deny
Th'appointed meeting, Fancy must supply,
Deluded Pleasure, she with Art refines,
(A secret still unknown to Vulgar Minds,)
And when the Wretch whom Law does Husband name,
Attempts to quench her everlasting Flame,
Ev'n in the Act of the most kind Embrace,
When Arms, Legs, Thighs are joyn'd, and Face to Face,
As the forc'd Pulse beats to the coming Joy,
She shuts her Eyes lest that loath'd Surfeit cloy.
And thus by strong Imagination she,
Her absent Gallant hugs in Effigie,
And fancy's her dear Cuckold Spouse is he;
While poor Cornuto humbly drudges on,
Till blest (with what he ne're begat) a Son;
17
The modest Gallant's chosen from the rest
For Godfather, pleased with the double Joy.
Of Getting and to Name the little Boy.
Intreaguing is of late so much the Trade,
That she who Travels not that slip'ry Road,
Is laught at by her Sex, as much or more,
Than Cheated Cully is by Bullying-Whore.
Could Grays-Inn Walks, or those of Lincolns-Inn,
(Places where Women teach their minds to sin;)
Or Park, or either Play-House but relate,
What fine Discourse, what pretty am'rous Chat,
Between the Gallant and the Wife is made.
When a new Scene of Pleasure's to be laid,
What strange discoveries would the places make
More wonderful than those of Captain Drake;
Monsters he saw, but rarely here and there,
But here whole Droves of Cuckolds would appear.
The patient, angry, and unthinking one,
Whose Wife's a Jilt, yet he'll believe her none.
Happy's the Man that's handsomly deceiv'd,
Whose Wife both Swears and Lyes, yet is beleiv'd.
That she who Travels not that slip'ry Road,
Is laught at by her Sex, as much or more,
Than Cheated Cully is by Bullying-Whore.
Could Grays-Inn Walks, or those of Lincolns-Inn,
(Places where Women teach their minds to sin;)
Or Park, or either Play-House but relate,
What fine Discourse, what pretty am'rous Chat,
Between the Gallant and the Wife is made.
When a new Scene of Pleasure's to be laid,
What strange discoveries would the places make
More wonderful than those of Captain Drake;
Monsters he saw, but rarely here and there,
But here whole Droves of Cuckolds would appear.
The patient, angry, and unthinking one,
Whose Wife's a Jilt, yet he'll believe her none.
Happy's the Man that's handsomly deceiv'd,
Whose Wife both Swears and Lyes, yet is beleiv'd.
Nay, take the best of all these Clogs of Life,
I mean (if such there be) a vertuous Wife;
She that With new Indearments ev'ry Night,
Provokes Desire and hightens Appetite:
Her Female Fondness will destruction prove,
Like Opium, to the choice delights of Love.
For what we may at any time enjoy,
Does ev'n the relish of the Bliss destroy.
To Pleasure difficulty adds a Gust,
I cannot Love and yet I must be just;
So when to duty, inclination turns,
How faintly th'Hymenial-Taper burns;
And no Man yet could ever learn the Art,
T'Insure a Womans fickle roving Heart.
That valued thing, her Beauty, may decay,
And Love will wear insensibly away;
And when the occasion of the Passion's fled,
Sure Inclination will be faint or dead;
But if t'her natural Infirmities,
Be added some acute and sharp Disease:
Then Doctors and Apothecaries come,
And with their Pots and Glasses fill the room.
Thrice happy he to whom such luck does fall,
T'imbrace Disease, and Wedd an Hospitall:
I mean (if such there be) a vertuous Wife;
She that With new Indearments ev'ry Night,
Provokes Desire and hightens Appetite:
Her Female Fondness will destruction prove,
Like Opium, to the choice delights of Love.
For what we may at any time enjoy,
Does ev'n the relish of the Bliss destroy.
To Pleasure difficulty adds a Gust,
I cannot Love and yet I must be just;
18
How faintly th'Hymenial-Taper burns;
And no Man yet could ever learn the Art,
T'Insure a Womans fickle roving Heart.
That valued thing, her Beauty, may decay,
And Love will wear insensibly away;
And when the occasion of the Passion's fled,
Sure Inclination will be faint or dead;
But if t'her natural Infirmities,
Be added some acute and sharp Disease:
Then Doctors and Apothecaries come,
And with their Pots and Glasses fill the room.
Thrice happy he to whom such luck does fall,
T'imbrace Disease, and Wedd an Hospitall:
All Swell'd with Sighs and Blubber'd with her Tears,
A new made Widow next in view appears,
Beating her Breast and tearing off her Hair,
She seems the very Emblem of Despair.
One would imagin that some mighty matter,
Was meant by all this hideous noise and clatter;
When her whole mourning's but a perfect Cheat,
For she ne're weeps, but 'tis when others see't.
Alone her Sorrows to her Hopes give place,
She forms the project of a new Embrace;
And e're her Husband in the Grave be laid,
Her Thoughts are of a Second Bridal-Bed.
A Maidens Vertue may perhaps be sense,
But who e're heard of Widows continence?
For their frail Tenements were ne're design'd,
T'indure a Seige, so often Undermin'd.
If she be Young her Inclinations speak,
Spite of her Dress of black Bandore and Peak;
A Garb invented first to let us know,
That the late Tennants, Lease is out below;
For Pious Inclinations seldom sail,
To lurk beneath a Youthful Widows Vail.
Tell me ye Fortune-Hunters of the Age,
Who with new Faces ev'ry hour engage,
If for one easy Fond believing Maid,
Twice fifty Am'rous Widows have not fled
Into your Arms? for 'tis the Creed they hold,
One Warm Bedfellow's worth a hundred cold.
The Worn out Soldier finds an Hospital;
And VVither'd Age does for an Alms-House call.
The Charter-house for Gentlemen decay'd,
And VVidows were for Younger Brothers made.
Once in an Age perhaps there may be known,
A VVidow laugh at all the Fops in Town:
Live like th'Ephesian Matron all forlorn,
Refuse all Visits all Pretenders Scorn.
Yet there's a time.—But rarely understood,
When Sorrow gives the VVall to Flesh and Blood;
Then if the Lucky Minute be but known,
Ply your Suit warm, she's certainly your own.
To these poor Souls perhaps I may be civil,
But VVidows Old and Am'rous are he Devil,
Rather than seek t'allay her craving Itch,
I'd e'ry night be Hagg-rid by a VVitch,
The greatest curse I rather would prefer,
Than enter into loathed Sheets with her.
A new made Widow next in view appears,
Beating her Breast and tearing off her Hair,
She seems the very Emblem of Despair.
One would imagin that some mighty matter,
Was meant by all this hideous noise and clatter;
When her whole mourning's but a perfect Cheat,
For she ne're weeps, but 'tis when others see't.
Alone her Sorrows to her Hopes give place,
She forms the project of a new Embrace;
And e're her Husband in the Grave be laid,
Her Thoughts are of a Second Bridal-Bed.
A Maidens Vertue may perhaps be sense,
But who e're heard of Widows continence?
For their frail Tenements were ne're design'd,
T'indure a Seige, so often Undermin'd.
If she be Young her Inclinations speak,
Spite of her Dress of black Bandore and Peak;
19
That the late Tennants, Lease is out below;
For Pious Inclinations seldom sail,
To lurk beneath a Youthful Widows Vail.
Tell me ye Fortune-Hunters of the Age,
Who with new Faces ev'ry hour engage,
If for one easy Fond believing Maid,
Twice fifty Am'rous Widows have not fled
Into your Arms? for 'tis the Creed they hold,
One Warm Bedfellow's worth a hundred cold.
The Worn out Soldier finds an Hospital;
And VVither'd Age does for an Alms-House call.
The Charter-house for Gentlemen decay'd,
And VVidows were for Younger Brothers made.
Once in an Age perhaps there may be known,
A VVidow laugh at all the Fops in Town:
Live like th'Ephesian Matron all forlorn,
Refuse all Visits all Pretenders Scorn.
Yet there's a time.—But rarely understood,
When Sorrow gives the VVall to Flesh and Blood;
Then if the Lucky Minute be but known,
Ply your Suit warm, she's certainly your own.
To these poor Souls perhaps I may be civil,
But VVidows Old and Am'rous are he Devil,
Rather than seek t'allay her craving Itch,
I'd e'ry night be Hagg-rid by a VVitch,
The greatest curse I rather would prefer,
Than enter into loathed Sheets with her.
As equally offensive to my Arms,
Is an old Maid by Age depriv'd of charms,
For tho' she may be vain and think to please,
Yet Fifty's an Incurable Disease.
Oh! with what mighty pleasure she'll relate,
(Like Cavileers the Wars in forty eight,)
VVhat fine young Sparks her humble Servants were,
And how she made them languish with despair:
But yet her Vertue was as much above
Their Flatteries, as they beneath her Love.
Her Vertue—Dam her with her canting stile,
VVhen 'twas her Pride preserv'd her all the while;
For let all VVomen till they'r weary prate,
That Honour stands as Centry at the Gate:
That Innocence and Vertue are their Crown,
Tis Pride, 'tis Pride that keeps their Linnen down;
'Their peevish Vertue keeps them chast in spight,
By day their Guard and Bugbear all the night:
True Hypocrites, who what they chiefly covet,
Seem most t'abhor and hate it when they love it:
Now nice, then free, now grave, and then more common,
There is no other Riddle but a VVoman.
Is an old Maid by Age depriv'd of charms,
For tho' she may be vain and think to please,
Yet Fifty's an Incurable Disease.
20
(Like Cavileers the Wars in forty eight,)
VVhat fine young Sparks her humble Servants were,
And how she made them languish with despair:
But yet her Vertue was as much above
Their Flatteries, as they beneath her Love.
Her Vertue—Dam her with her canting stile,
VVhen 'twas her Pride preserv'd her all the while;
For let all VVomen till they'r weary prate,
That Honour stands as Centry at the Gate:
That Innocence and Vertue are their Crown,
Tis Pride, 'tis Pride that keeps their Linnen down;
'Their peevish Vertue keeps them chast in spight,
By day their Guard and Bugbear all the night:
True Hypocrites, who what they chiefly covet,
Seem most t'abhor and hate it when they love it:
Now nice, then free, now grave, and then more common,
There is no other Riddle but a VVoman.
Oh, VVoman, Woman! who can ere Rehearse,
In lasting Prose, or much more lasting Verse,
VVhat mighty Mischiefs have by thee been done,
Since angry Nature thee to Frame begun?
VVho but an haughty Cleopatra cost;
Mark Anthony the Wold? for her 'twas lost.
Who was't the Roman Capitol Betray'd?
But a perfideous VVhore, some call a Maid?
One VVomans lust Inflamd that lasting Jar,
VVhich qurnt Old Troy after a 10 years war.
There never was a Plot or close design,
The quiet of a State to undermine,
Or private Family to ruin brought,
VVherein a VVoman was not in the Plot;
Let who will lead the Van, 'tis plain and clear
In Mischief, Women still bring up the Rear;
Yet they of Plots, poor Souls, do know no more,
Than he that Form'd the Project just before.
In lasting Prose, or much more lasting Verse,
VVhat mighty Mischiefs have by thee been done,
Since angry Nature thee to Frame begun?
VVho but an haughty Cleopatra cost;
Mark Anthony the Wold? for her 'twas lost.
Who was't the Roman Capitol Betray'd?
But a perfideous VVhore, some call a Maid?
One VVomans lust Inflamd that lasting Jar,
VVhich qurnt Old Troy after a 10 years war.
There never was a Plot or close design,
The quiet of a State to undermine,
Or private Family to ruin brought,
VVherein a VVoman was not in the Plot;
21
In Mischief, Women still bring up the Rear;
Yet they of Plots, poor Souls, do know no more,
Than he that Form'd the Project just before.
Thus we've of Women made a short Survey,
And lightly touch'd their Vices in our way;
But a Fond Lover with his sensless Muse,
Will all their Frailties and their Faults excuse;
For is his Mistress ugly beyond thought,
She's still his Queen, his Goddess, and what not?
If she with Moles and Spots be Larded o're,
He'l tell you Venus had a Mole before,
He for her Limping has some pretty hints,
She seems to him to Languish when she Squints;
If Foolish; Lord! how Innocent she is!
Nay, her Malicious Wit is sure to please;
If Drowsy-look'd she has the Air of France;
If Sluttish, 'tis but a-la-Negligence;
If Tawdry and Ill-drest, she's Modish thought,
For Love can make a Venus of a Slut;
If she Sings worse than a Hoarse Smithfield-Trull,
To her's, the Musick of the Sphears is dull;
If Wither'd Old, Age for Respect doth call,
And Bags to make her Young will never fail;
If Lewd as Cresswell in her youthful days
Yet to her Vertue he will Altars raise:
Let the deluded Fool go on, till's greatest curse
Be those few words, for better and for worse.
And lightly touch'd their Vices in our way;
But a Fond Lover with his sensless Muse,
Will all their Frailties and their Faults excuse;
For is his Mistress ugly beyond thought,
She's still his Queen, his Goddess, and what not?
If she with Moles and Spots be Larded o're,
He'l tell you Venus had a Mole before,
He for her Limping has some pretty hints,
She seems to him to Languish when she Squints;
If Foolish; Lord! how Innocent she is!
Nay, her Malicious Wit is sure to please;
If Drowsy-look'd she has the Air of France;
If Sluttish, 'tis but a-la-Negligence;
If Tawdry and Ill-drest, she's Modish thought,
For Love can make a Venus of a Slut;
If she Sings worse than a Hoarse Smithfield-Trull,
To her's, the Musick of the Sphears is dull;
If Wither'd Old, Age for Respect doth call,
And Bags to make her Young will never fail;
If Lewd as Cresswell in her youthful days
Yet to her Vertue he will Altars raise:
Let the deluded Fool go on, till's greatest curse
Be those few words, for better and for worse.
Oh! were there but some Island vast and wide,
Where Nature's Drest in all her choicest Pride;
The Air Serene, as Thoughts of Angels be,
Fertile the Ground, Spontaneous and Free;
Producing all things which we useful call,
As Edens-Garden did before the Fall;
Of Choicest Vines an inexhausted store,
With Swelling Clusters ready to run o're,
With their own plenty of the Godlike Juice,
Which seems in Man a second Soul t'infuse;
There with a Score of Choice Selected Friends,
Who know no private Interests nor Ends,
We'd Live, and could we Procreate like Trees,
And without Womens Aid—
Promote and Propogate our Species;
The Day in Sports and innocent Delight
VVe'd spend, and in soft Slumber wast the Night:
Sometimes within a private Grotto meet,
VVith gen'rous VVines and Fruits our selves we'd Treat;
Ambition, Envy, and that Meager Train,
Should never interrupt our Peaceful Raign;
Blest with Strong Health, and a most quiet mind,
Each day our Thoughts should new Diversion find,
But never, never think on VVOMEN-KIND.
Where Nature's Drest in all her choicest Pride;
The Air Serene, as Thoughts of Angels be,
Fertile the Ground, Spontaneous and Free;
22
As Edens-Garden did before the Fall;
Of Choicest Vines an inexhausted store,
With Swelling Clusters ready to run o're,
With their own plenty of the Godlike Juice,
Which seems in Man a second Soul t'infuse;
There with a Score of Choice Selected Friends,
Who know no private Interests nor Ends,
We'd Live, and could we Procreate like Trees,
And without Womens Aid—
Promote and Propogate our Species;
The Day in Sports and innocent Delight
VVe'd spend, and in soft Slumber wast the Night:
Sometimes within a private Grotto meet,
VVith gen'rous VVines and Fruits our selves we'd Treat;
Ambition, Envy, and that Meager Train,
Should never interrupt our Peaceful Raign;
Blest with Strong Health, and a most quiet mind,
Each day our Thoughts should new Diversion find,
But never, never think on VVOMEN-KIND.
FINIS.
The Batchelors Lettany.
From a Woman who thirty Long Winters has seen,
Yet by patching, and painting, and bathing her skin,
Appears pump and young, Like a Girl of fifteen,
Libera me, &c.
Yet by patching, and painting, and bathing her skin,
Appears pump and young, Like a Girl of fifteen,
Libera me, &c.
From one who to Meetings is always in Motion,
Or to Church how'rly Gadding, pretending Devotion,
Her ways are unknown, like the paths in the Ocean.
Libera me, &c.
Or to Church how'rly Gadding, pretending Devotion,
Her ways are unknown, like the paths in the Ocean.
Libera me, &c.
23
From one who is always a Scolding and railing,
'Gainst the faults of her Sex, and their Lewdness bewailing,
Twenty pound to a Cherristone she has her failing.
Lebera me, &c.
'Gainst the faults of her Sex, and their Lewdness bewailing,
Twenty pound to a Cherristone she has her failing.
Lebera me, &c.
From one who affects still rich Cloaths to be wearing,
But how she comes by 'em a farthing not caring,
When her portion (Debts paid) will scarce buy a Red-herring.
Libera me, &c.
But how she comes by 'em a farthing not caring,
When her portion (Debts paid) will scarce buy a Red-herring.
Libera me, &c.
From one in whose Beauty her sole fortune lyes,
Or depends on the will of an Aunt when she Dyes,
Or in Chamber of London, or else 'twixt her T---hs.
Libera me, &c.
Or depends on the will of an Aunt when she Dyes,
Or in Chamber of London, or else 'twixt her T---hs.
Libera me, &c.
From a Woman who values her worth by her pelf,
And o'rerun with conceit, is become such an elf,
To allow none are witty or fair but her self.
Libera me, &c.
And o'rerun with conceit, is become such an elf,
To allow none are witty or fair but her self.
Libera me, &c.
From one who pretends to more Tongues then her own,
And in French and Italian a student is Grown,
When one Tongues enough for a Woman 'tis known.
Libera me, &c.
And in French and Italian a student is Grown,
When one Tongues enough for a Woman 'tis known.
Libera me, &c.
From one who each night to the Play-House still goes,
To show her fine Face, or her much finer Cloaths,
And receives the addresses of Sharpers and Beau's
Libera me, &c.
To show her fine Face, or her much finer Cloaths,
And receives the addresses of Sharpers and Beau's
Libera me, &c.
From a Raw Country Girl who got all her Breeding,
In a Village where Cows, Swine and Poultry were feeding,
And never was taught either writeing or Reading.
Libera me, &c.
In a Village where Cows, Swine and Poultry were feeding,
And never was taught either writeing or Reading.
Libera me, &c.
From a City Coquett who by Ogling and smiling,
Each Day is some new Fop-admirer Beguiling,
The Devil is in her if she be not willing.
Libera me, &c.
Each Day is some new Fop-admirer Beguiling,
The Devil is in her if she be not willing.
Libera me, &c.
From a Widow'd who buried both young men and old men,
Who once were her Husbands, and sure they were bold men,
To venture on her, or the Damp of her Cole-mine.
Libera me, &c.
Who once were her Husbands, and sure they were bold men,
To venture on her, or the Damp of her Cole-mine.
Libera me, &c.
From a Widow she Hipocrite (if such there be any)
Who pretends she can Love none, tho Courted by many,
Has five or six Children and never a penny.
Libera me, &c.
Who pretends she can Love none, tho Courted by many,
Has five or six Children and never a penny.
Libera me, &c.
24
From a Lass of Intrigue, who before she was Wed,
Has at Tick-Tack, or Put, or at In and In plaid,
And after her Marriage is soon brought to Bed.
Libera me, &c.
Has at Tick-Tack, or Put, or at In and In plaid,
And after her Marriage is soon brought to Bed.
Libera me, &c.
From one who some years has a Town-Mistress been,
And pretends to turn Honest to draw some man in,
From falling in such a Decoy, or a Gin.
Libera me, &c.
And pretends to turn Honest to draw some man in,
From falling in such a Decoy, or a Gin.
Libera me, &c.
From Marrying a Woman I've lain with before,
Who was constant to me, and to twenty men more,
Then make her my Wife who at first was my Whore.
Libera me, &c.
Who was constant to me, and to twenty men more,
Then make her my Wife who at first was my Whore.
Libera me, &c.
From one who in thought is as Lewd as a Stalion,
With an Airy French humour enough for to pall one,
Yet as proud and as jealous as is an Italian.
Libera me, &c.
With an Airy French humour enough for to pall one,
Yet as proud and as jealous as is an Italian.
Libera me, &c.
From one spends the Morning in Painting and Patching,
In her mind, for Intrigues, in the After-noon, hatching
From the humour at such slipp'ry Eels to be catching.
Libera me, &c.
In her mind, for Intrigues, in the After-noon, hatching
From the humour at such slipp'ry Eels to be catching.
Libera me, &c.
From running my Neck in the Noose and the Curse,
Of taking a Woman for Better for Worse,
Who brings not a Groat, and will yet bear the Purse.
Libera me, &c.
Of taking a Woman for Better for Worse,
Who brings not a Groat, and will yet bear the Purse.
Libera me, &c.
From the Horrible Torment of Leading my Life,
With a Woman all wrangling, all noise, and all Strife,
So I Marry the Devil instead of a Wife.
Libera me, &c.
With a Woman all wrangling, all noise, and all Strife,
So I Marry the Devil instead of a Wife.
Libera me, &c.
From a Woman an utter Sworn Foe to Clean Linnen,
Looking always as Black as if Cole-hole she'd been in,
Fit only in Newcastle-Mines to be seen in.
Libera me, &c.
Looking always as Black as if Cole-hole she'd been in,
Fit only in Newcastle-Mines to be seen in.
Libera me, &c.
From a Woman in Cook'ry so mightily knowing,
Will often in Broath let the Dishclout be stewing,
And tho nothing she knows, will be every thing doing,
Libera me, &c.
Will often in Broath let the Dishclout be stewing,
And tho nothing she knows, will be every thing doing,
Libera me, &c.
To Conclude, from a Woman is always gain-saying,
Always either a Gossiping, Scolding, or Praying,
And is ever Commanding instead of Obeying.
Libera me, &c.
Always either a Gossiping, Scolding, or Praying,
And is ever Commanding instead of Obeying.
Libera me, &c.
FINIS.
| The Folly of love | |