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Much wine had
passed, with grave discourse
Of who fucks who, and
who does worse
(Such as you usually do hear
From
those that diet at the Bear),
When I, who still take
care to see
Drunkenness relieved by lechery,
Went
out into St. James's Park
To cool my head and fire my
heart.
But though St. James has th' honor on 't,
'Tis consecrate to prick and cunt.
There, by a most
incestuous birth,
Strange woods spring from the
teeming earth;
For they relate how heretofore,
When ancient Pict began to whore,
Deluded of his
assignation
(Jilting, it seems, was then in fashion),
Poor pensive lover, in this place
Would frig upon his
mother's face;
Whence rows of mandrakes tall did rise
Whose lewd tops fucked the very skies.
Each imitative
branch does twine
In some loved fold of Aretine,
And nightly now beneath their shade
Are buggeries,
rapes, and incests made.
Unto this all-sin-sheltering
grove
Whores of the bulk and the alcove,
Great
ladies, chambermaids, and drudges,
The ragpicker, and
heiress trudges.
Carmen, divines, great lords, and
tailors,
Prentices, poets, pimps, and jailers,
Footmen, fine fops do here arrive,
And here
promiscuously they swive.
Along these hallowed
walks it was
That I beheld Corinna pass.
Whoever
had been by to see
The proud disdain she cast on me
Through charming eyes, he would have swore
She
dropped from heaven that very hour,
Forsaking the
divine abode
In scorn of some despairing god.
But
mark what creatures women are:
How infinitely vile,
when fair!
Three knights o' the' elbow and the
slur
With wriggling tails made up to her.
The
first was of your Whitehall baldes,
Near kin t' th'
Mother of the Maids;
Graced by whose favor he was
able
To bring a friend t' th' Waiters' table,
Where he had heard Sir Edward Sutton
Say how the King
loved Banstead mutton;
Since when he'd ne'er be
brought to eat
By 's good will any other meat.
In
this, as well as all the rest,
He ventures to do like
the best,
But wanting common sense, th' ingredient
In choosing well not least expedient,
Converts
abortive imitation
To universal affectation.
Thus
he not only eats and talks
But feels and smells, sits
down and walks,
Nay looks, and lives, and loves by
rote,
In an old tawdry birthday coat.
The
second was a Grays Inn wit,
A great inhabiter of the
pit,
Where critic-like he sits and squints,
Steals
pocket handkerchiefs, and hints
From 's neighbor, and
the comedy,
To court, and pay, his landlady.
The third, a lady's eldest son
Within few years of
twenty-one
Who hopes from his propitious fate,
Against he comes to his estate,
By these two worthies
to be made
A most accomplished tearing blade.
One, in a strain 'twixt tune and nonsense,
Cries,
"Madam, I have loved you long since.
Permit me your
fair hand to kiss";
When at her mouth her cunt cries,
"Yes!"
In short, without much more ado,
Joyful and
pleased, away she flew,
And with these three
confounded asses
From park to hackney coach she
passes.
So a proud bitch does lead about
Of
humble curs the amorous rout,
Who most obsequiously
do hunt
The savory scent of salt-swoln cunt.
Some
power more patient now relate
The sense of this
surprising fate.
Gods! that a thing admired by me
Should fall to so much infamy.
Had she picked out, to
rub her arse on,
Some stiff-pricked clown or
well-hung parson,
Each job of whose spermatic sluice
Had filled her cunt with wholesome juice,
I the
proceeding should have praised
In hope sh' had
quenched a fire I raised.
Such natural freedoms are
but just:
There's something generous in mere lust.
But to turn a damned abandoned jade
When neither head
nor tail persuade;
To be a whore in understanding,
A passive pot for fools to spend in!
The devil played
booty, sure, with thee
To bring a blot on infamy.
But why am I, of all mankind,
To so severe a fate
designed?
Ungrateful! Why this treachery
To humble
fond, believing me,
Who gave you privilege above
The nice allowances of love?
Did ever I refuse to
bear
The meanest part your lust could spare?
When
your lewd cunt came spewing home
Drenched with the
seed of half the town,
My dram of sperm was supped up
after
For the digestive surfeit water.
Full gorged
at another time
With a vast meal of slime
Which
your devouring cunt had drawn
From porters' backs and
footmen's brawn,
I was content to serve you up
My
ballock-full for your grace cup,
Nor ever thought it
an abuse
While you had pleasure for excuse -
You
that could make my heart away
For noise and color,
and betray
The secrets of my tender hours
To such
knight-errant paramours,
When, leaning on your
faithless breast,
Wrapped in security and rest,
Soft kindness all my powers did move,
And reason lay
dissolved in love!
May stinking vapors choke your
womb
Such as the men you dote upon
May your
depraved appetite,
That could in whiffling fools
delight,
Beget such frenzies in your mind
You may
go mad for the north wind,
And fixing all your hopes
upon't
To have him bluster in your cunt,
Turn up
your longing arse t' th' air
And perish in a wild
despair!
But cowards shall forget to rant,
Schoolboys to frig, old whores to paint;
The Jesuits'
fraternity
Shall leave the use of buggery;
Crab-louse, inspired with grace divine,
From earthly
cod to heaven shall climb;
Physicians shall believe
in Jesus,
And disobedience cease to please us,
Ere
I desist with all my power
To plague this woman and
undo her.
But my revenge will best be timed
When
she is married that is limed.
In that most lamentable
state
I'll make her feel my scorn and hate:
Pelt
her with scandals, truth or lies,
And her poor cur
with jealousied,
Till I have torn him from her
breech,
While she whines like a dog-drawn bitch;
Loathed and despised, kicked out o' th' Town
Into
some dirty hole alone,
To chew the cud of misery
And know she owes it all to me.
And may no woman
better thrive
That dares prophane the cunt I swive!
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