Classic Poem

 For honour then of white-breech'd Patroness,
The Dawber thought that he cou'd do no less
Than Judgment draw; but Judgment not to afright
(Like Angelo 's) Spectators, but delight.
It was that of the upright Phrygian Judge,
To whom three squabling Goddesses did trudge,
And by the fair Looks of her Face and Breech,
Each from his Hand the golden Ball beseech.
But if in Dawber there be any trust,
To Venus giving it, he was most just.
Yet some say she brib'd him, as he did her,
And gave the Ball for Wench that made great stir;
For Pimp as well as Lawyer doth deserve his
Reward before that he hath done his Service;
Since he's a Pleader too, and doth discover
The miserable Case of Plaintiffe Lover,
And seldom 'tis but both obtain Relief.
But what before was I a saying? if
That Venus 's Competitors were such
As Painter made 'um, no true man would grutch
Her sure the sentence; and to bring't to trial
Before plain-dealing Swain, yet youthful Spy-all
Of fore-sight Juno sage had not a whit,
And Pallas , though a snotty Nose, no Wit.
What though Dame Juno there appear'd so proper,
That not a Car-man in the World could top her:
And Dawber gorgeously her Head had drest;
For her dear Peacocks Rump paid for her Crest;
And had bestow'd on her the killing meen
Of Drunkards Eye, Purse-mouth, and bridled Chin
Made up; but kindness more than that came to
She had, he made her stand cross-legg'd, that so
What 'twas a shame to see might lurk behind;
That which is out of Sight is out of Mind.
Else sure the heav'nly What-d'y'calt's Dimension
Cou'd not be spann'd by mortal Comprehension.
For there was left apparent competency
For the most hungry Youngsters, who do fancy
Of that good thing they ne'r can have enough,
Until they are condemn'd unto the proof.
But married men, ye greedy dogs can tell ye,
Your Eyes are always bigger than your Belly.
What though Dame Pallas too was trick'd up in
A French Hood, not of Velvet, but of Tin;
So Trulla have I seen in Coif of Mettle,
To ease her dear Lords Shoulder of a Kettle;
But such as our bright Amazons now wear,
When to Hide-Park they ride to make fo'kes stare,
O Wits, was your Aunt Pallas 's Montier!
By whose reflection as a face divine
In flaunting Coyf of Glory hers did shine.
With meen was furnish'd too by Dawber partial,
Keen as her Thought, and as her Head-piece Martial.
Her Mouth the Mansion of her Charms, or Shop
Of Eloquence he kindly too set ope,
To shew she was a Wit; and sure moreover
The vastness of its Treasure to discover;
For not like common Baggage, or mean Girl,
Were her Gums set with beggarly Seed-Pearl:
But such, was each, as you might see, when State
Bids the great Spanish Monarch cock his Hat;
Or else in Chamber of Escurial most rich,
Is hung, as in spruce Parlour Egg of Estrich.
And (as for Juno's) to keep Judge from loathing,
For her Obscenity he found a cloathing,
Causing a Flap, or Apron natural
Half way down to her knees to fall.
But do the Artist what he cou'd, a Blouze
She was, and Juno too, to Vulcan's Spouse ,
What though with Mars had newly had a Ruffle,
And black and blew Eyes had got in the Scuffle,
Was tumbled, jumbled, tous'd and mous'd, and wurry'd,
And so disturb'd the Pigs-tails on her Forehead;
The native Corral of her Lip too missing,
By boyst'rous sharp-set Hector 's cruel kissing:
But not, as some may doubt, were the fair Cherries
By smutty Cuckolds Chaps turn'd to Mulberries:
Yet howsoe're her Graces were impair'd,
The Judge for's heart cou'd not defer's award,
But strait his Conscience in his Face up-star'd.
And while the wonders of her Form he kenn'd,
All that he had about him stood an end,
The sole unfeigned way Lass to commend.
Of Hero's such Leander's commendation,
Who made (while she to th'Gods) to her Oration.

 But hold a stroak, you nimble Slut; for sure
We skip the Chappels choicest Furniture,
Which for the sake of Sex inquisitive,
For tail of our Description I'll retrieve;
Though you wou'd let it, to save pains, escape us.
The Romans had a God, well-known, Priapus :
The Greeks too had the like, for Heathen none
So blind, but his Almightiship wou'd own:
And Romans now, who their old Gods reject,
Have seriously for him a great respect.

 This mighty, and yet humble God did dwell
Here to his Mind, in dark, and narrow Cell:
But cou'd not hide himself; for pale-fac'd Rout
Of Virgin Penitents soon found him out:
And Mother, and the Son, lay both unheeded,
While they invok'd him most whose aid they needed;
Not in the common way did they adore him,
But as they should, lay prostrated before him;
The little piss-tail Girls made long Oration
To's Worship, to be freed from Chalkes Temptation.
The ugly stale despairing Maid's Petition
Was, in some a Dream, for 's heav'nly Apparition.
New-marry'd Dames did only laud his Name,
And seem'd his Bounty to receive with Shame.
But the starv'd Widows were importunate,
As Spanish Beggars who disdain to wait;
Who ask as if they wou'd not be deni'd,
And yet so as they cannot be supply'd.

 Amongst those Cravers Hero was not hindmost,
As Swabbers Son observ'd, who her did mind most.
And while all shew the Gods their Whites of eyes
In Hero's bright ones he his Heaven spies.
Yet Hero 's Eyes on Heav'n were not so bent,
But they on leering Lover eke did squint,
And through the corner of their Lids did wander
Some of their keenest Rays upon Leander ;
So Gods and him at once brought to her beck
And rais'd his hope, yet did his Courage check.
For like a bashful Spaniel straitway stole
With modest Joy, his Nose into her Pole,
His Tail between his Legs, yet slided to her,
And had the Heart, though not the Face, to woe her
In words like these; I must fu-forsooth own
I am a harmless poor Youth of our Town,
Who but to see fine sights this morning came here,
And not to learn of little Love to stammer;
Who Tongue, as well as Heart, from me hath ta'ne,
So that I can't, if that I wou'd, complain;
Yet something I wou'd say if that I durst,
But I wou'd have these jeering Fokes gon first.
Scarce had he whisper'd that, but Congregation
Quite weary of their deaf God's Conversation,
Rose up, and ending their unanswer'd Speeches,
To their Discourteous Worships turn'd their Breeches.
Soon as he saw that they indeed were gone,
And he was left with Hero all alone,
(As if it had been for the nonce) he fain
Would have invited them all back again,
And with a new wish did recant his former;
For though his Rival's gone, he durst not storm her.
And she (thinking no harm, as one wou'd say)
Did for that very Cause behind them stay.
—For Women, when they dare to keep the Field,
Wou'd have you know, they do not fear to—yield.

 While dumb Leander look'd down on his Toes,
And numbered the Pinks upon his Shoes,
She did survey his Leg, the shape and fashion
Of the whole Youth, with silent commendation.
For modest Maid, I hope, may leer and peer
And if by fear a Lover's Voice be frose,
On all Man hath, if he, or none else see her:
May break the Ice, and captive Tongue let loose.
Hero therefore (that knew the world) took on her
For slouching Lad the wooing in brisk manner;
And roundly said, Feat Youth, for want of speaking,
D'y' think that I will suffer a Heart-breaking?
When Men are turn'd to Women, Women then
May without shame (I take it) turn to Men.
But Custom's crueller than Love, to gag us:
When Silence more than Love before, doth plague us.
Why must nice Slut be dumb, though rack'd, nay prest,
When it is Impudence not to confess't?
Alas when I'm on fire, I must cry out.
Can Female-hold keep Love's Wild-Fire within-dore?
No. If we shut the Gate, 'twill out at Windore.
We are but Paper Lanthorns to his Torch,
Whose Wafer-sides he instantly will scorch,
And never leave till through a Way he find,
To blaze out lavishly before the Wind.
So to hold Love, for Maid's as hard a matter,
As when they're tickled, 'tis to hold their water.
Though proffer'd Service stinks, you'll say; my Mind is,
To give, before one's ask'd, endears a Kindness;
But for it wilful men I know do slight one,
And all but shy, and sullen Sluts set light on.
But Men in Love more savage, rude, and stupid
Than Brutes, and more do shame their Tutor Cupid :
And four legg'd Dame may without Vanity
Vye with our Lords, their Lords humanity.
And we must own, the Bear, Boar, Ass appear
Indeed to have more of the Cavalier.
When th' Asses solitary Miss doth bray
For want of him; no farther will he stray,
Nor stop his Ears; her Voice he thinks melodious;
Nor is she for her Summons to him odious:
Nay when Whip cann't, by her is wrought upon
To leave his Spanish Gravity, and run.
And for their Wench will fight brave Bear and Boar,
After Enjoyment as well as before.
But may be, they so good are and observing,
Because their Dames are more than us deserving.
And to speak truth, I do believe those Ladies
Are something constanter than we now a days:
More generous by far, and bravely scorn
To take half Crown, or Guinney for good turn.
Their Wit too, and Discretion ours out-does;
Lovers they run not from, but lead by th' Nose,
But such as ne'er put finger in the eye,
Like ours, who snivel, sob, and sigh, and cry,
For what but they themselves themselves deny.
When Love by Shoulder-look their Dames do crave,
They stare not on 'um, and ask what they'd have?
And, happy Dames! they never were put to't yet,
To speak, as I must now, or go without it.