That careless Wench! No Creature warn her,
To move it out from yonder Corner,
But leave it standing full in Sight,
For you to exercise your Spite!
In vain the Workman fhew'd his Wit,
With Rings and Hinges counterfeit,
To make it seem in this Difguife,
A Cabinet to vulgar Eyes;
Which Strephon ventur'd to look in,
Refolv'd to go thro' thick and thin,
He lifts the Lid: There need no more,
He smelt it all the Time before.
As, from within Pandora's Box,
When Epimetheus op'd the Locks,
A fudden universal Crew
Of human Evils, upward flew ;
He still was comforted to find,
That Hope at laft remain'd behind.
So, Strephon, lifting up the Lid, To view what in the Cheft was hid, The Vapours flew from out the Vent ;
But, Strephon, cautious, never meant
The Bottom of the Pan to grope,
And foul his Hands in search of Hope.
O! NE'ER may fuch a vile Machine
Be once in Calia's Chamber feen!
O! may she better learn to keep
Thofe Secrets of the boary Deep! *
As Mutton-Cutlets, † prime of Meat,
Which, tho' with Art you falt and beat,
As Laws of Cookery require,
And roaft them at the cleareft Fire;
If from 5 a-down the hopeful Chops,
The Fat upon a Cinder drops,
To ftinking Smoke it turns the Flame,
Pois'ning the Flesh from whence it came,
And up exhales a greazy Stench,
For which you curse the careless Wench
So, Things which must not be expreft,
When plumpt into the reeking Chest,
Send up an excremental Smell,
To taint the Parts from whence they fell;
The Pettycoats and Gown perfume,
And waft a Stink round ev'ry Room.
* Milton. Works and N. P --y's.
THUS finishing his grand Survey,
The Swain disgusted flunk away.
BUT Vengeance, Goddess, never fleeping,
Soon punish'd Strephon for his peeping.
His foul Imagination links
Each Dame he sees with all her Stinks;
And, if unfavoury Odours fly,
Conceives a Lady standing by.
All Women his Description fits,
And both Ideas jump like Wits,
By vicious Fancy coupled faft,
And still appearing in Contraft.
I PITY wretched Strephon, blind To all the Charms of Woman-Kind. Should I the Queen of Love refufe, Because she rose from stinking Ooze? To him that looks behind the Scene, Statira's but fome pocky Quean.
WHEN Calia all her Glory fhows, If Strephon would but stop his Nose,
Who now fo impioufly blafphemes
Her Ointments, Daubs, and Paints, and Creams
Her Washes, Slops, and ev'ry Clout,
With which he makes fo foul a Rout;
He foon would learn to think like me,
And blefs his ravish'd Eyes to fee
Such Order from Confufion fprung,
Such gaudy Tulips rais'd from Dung.
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, folling 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 Hyde,
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'roufly her Plumpers draws,
That serve to fill her hallow 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 Goddess
Unlaces next her Steel-rib'd Bodice;
Which, by the Operator's Skill,
Prefs down the Lumps, the Hollows fill,
Up goes her Hand, and off the flips
The Bolfters that fupply her Hips.
With gentleft Touch, the next explores
Her Shankers, Iffues, running Sores;
Effects of many a fad Disaster,
And then to each applies a Plaister.
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