Provided a Fund for building you Spittles:
You are only to live four Years without Vittles!
Content, my good L--ds; but let us change Hands;
First take you our Tyths, and give us your Lands..
So, GOD blefs the Church, and three of our
Mitres;
And God bless the Commons, for Biting the Biters.
A beautiful young Nymph going to Bed.
Written for the Honour of the Fair Sex, in 1731.
ORINNA, Pride of Drury-Lane,
For whom no Shepherd fighs in vain ;
Never did Covent-Garden boast
So bright a batter'd, ftroling Toaft;
No drunken Rake to pick her up,
No Cellar where on Tick to fup;
Returning at the Midnight Hour;
Four Stories climbing to her Bow'r;
Then, feated on a three-leg'd Chair:
Takes off her artificial Hair:
Now, picking out a Chrystal Eye,
She wipes it clean, and lays it by.
Her Eye-brows from a Moufe's Hide,
Stuck on with Art on either Side,
Pulls off with Care, and firft difplays 'em,
Then in a Play-book fmoothly lays 'em,
Now dext'rously her Plumpers draws,
That ferve to fill her hollow Jaws.
Untwists a Wire; and from her Gums
A Set of Teeth compleatly comes.
Pulls out the Rags, contriv'd to prop
Her flabby Dugs, and down they drop.
Proceeding on, the lovely Goddefs,
Unlaces next her Steel-ribb'd Bodice;
Which by the Operator's Skill,
Prefs down the Lumps, the Hollows fill.
Up goes her Hand, and off fhe flips
The Bolfters that fupply her Hips.
With gentleft Touch, fhe next explores.
-Her Shankers, Iffues, running Sores;
Effects of many a fad Disaster,
And then to each applies a Plaister.
But must, before fhe goes to Bed,
Rub off the Dawbs of White and Red;
And smooth the Furrows in her Front,
With greafy Paper stuck upon't.
She takes a Bolus e're the fleeps &
And then between two Blankets creeps.
With Pains of Love tormented lies;
Or, if the chance to clofe her Eyes,
Of Bridewell and the Compter dreams,
And feels the Lash, and faintly screams;
Or, by a faithlefs Bully drawn,
At fome Hedge-Tavern lies in Pawn.
Or, to Jamaica seems transported,
* Alone, and by no Planter courted.
Or, near Fleet-Ditch's oozy Brinks,
Surrounded with a Hundred Stinks:
Belated, seems on Watch to lye,
And fnap fome Cully paffing by.
Or, ftruck with Fear, her Fancy runs
On Watchmen, Constables, and Duns,
From whom she meets with frequent Rubs ;
But never from religious Clubs ;
Whofe Favour fhe is fure to find,
Because she pays them all in Kind.
CORINNA wakes. A dreadful Sight!
Behold the Ruins of the Night!
A wicked Rat her Plaister stole,
Half eat, and dragg'd it to his Hole,
The Chrystal Eye, alas, was mist;
And Pufs had on her Plumpers p-st.
A Pidgeon pick'd her Iffue- Peas;
And Shock her Treffes fill'd with Fleas,
THE Nymph, though in this mangled Plight, Muft ev'ry Morn her Limbs unite
But, how fhall I defcribe her Arts
To recollect her scatter'd Parts?
Or, fhew the Anguifh, Toyl, and Pain,
Of gathering up her felf again.
Et longam incomitata videtur
The bashful Mufe will never bear,
In fuch a Scene to interfere.
Corinna in the Morning dizen'd,
Who fees, will fpew; who fmells, be poifon'd.
Written in the Year 1731.
F Chloe all the Town has rung;
By ev'ry Size of Poets fung.
So beautiful a Nymph appears
But once in Twenty Thousand Years,
By Nature form'd with niceft Care,
And, faultless to a single Hair;
Her graceful Mein, her Shape, and Face,
Confefs'd her of no mortal Race:
And then, fo nice, and fo genteel;
Such Cleanliness from Head to Heel:
No Humours grofs, or frowzy Steams,
No noify Whiffs, or fweaty Streams,
Before, behind, above, below,
Could from her taintless Body flow.
Would so discreetly Things difpofe,
None ever faw her pluck a Rofe.
Her dearest Comrades never caught her
Squat on her Hams, to make Maid's Water.
You'd fwear, that so divine a Creature
Felt no Neceffities of Nature.
In Summer, had fhe walk'd the Town,
Her Arm-pits would not stain her Gown:
At Country-Dances, not a Nofe
Could in the Dog-Days smell her Toes.
Her Milk-white Hands, both Palms and Backs, Like Iv'ry dry, and soft as Wax.
Her Hands, the fofteft ever felt,"
Though cold would burn, though dry would melt.
DEAR Venus hide this wond'rous Maid, Nor let her loose to spoil your Trade. While the engroffeth ev'ry Swain, You but o'er half the World can reign. Think what a Cafe all Men are now in, What ogling, fighing, toafting, vowing! What powder'd Wigs! What Flames and Darts! What Hampers full of bleeding Hearts! What Sword-knots! what poetick Strains! What Billet-doux, and clouded Canes!
BUT, Strephon figh'd fo loud and strong,
He blew a Settlement along:
And, bravely drove his Rivals down
With Coach and Six, and House in Town.
The bashful Nymph no more withstands,
Because her dear Papa commands.
The charming Couple now unites:
Proceed we to the Marriage Rites.
Though deep, yet clear, &c..
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