« AnteriorContinua »
ME, * Pbæbus in a Midnight + Dream
Accosting; said, 11 Go shake your Cream.
Be humbly minded; know
Sweeten your Tea, and watch your Toast.
Thee, beft befits a lowly Style:
Teach Dennis how to stir the Guile :
With & Peggy Dixon thoughtful fit,
Contriving for the Pot and Spit,
Take down thy proudly swelling Sails,
And rub thy Teeth, and pare thy Nails.
At nicely carving show thy Wit:
But ne'er presume to eat a Bit:
Turn ev'ry Way thy watchful Eye;
And ev'ry Guest be sure to ply ;
Let never at your Board be known
An empty Plate except your own.
** Be these thy Arts ; nor higher aim
Than what befits a rural Dame.
But, Cloacina, Goddess bright,
Sleek - claims her as his Right :
And ++ Smedley, Flow'r of all Divines,
Shall sing the D-n in Smedley's Lines,
Cynthius aurem vellit.
Hor. + Cum somnia vera.
Hor. || In the Bottle to make Butter.
Mrs. Dixon the House-keeper.
** Hæ tibi erunt artes.
++ A very ftupid, infolent, factious, deformed, conceited
Parson ; a vile Pretender to Poetry, preferred by the D. of
Grafton for his Wit.
"IVE Hours, (and who can do it less in?)
By Cælia spent in Dressing;
The Goddess from her Chamber issues,
Array'd in Lace, Brocade and Tiffues :
Strephon, who found the Room was void,
And Betty otherwise employ'd,
Stole in, and took a strict Survey
Of all the Litter, as it lay:
Whereof to make the Matter clear,
An Inventory follows here.
And first, a dirty Smock appeared,
Beneath the Arm-pits well besmear'd ;
Strephon, the Rogue, display'd it wide,
And turn'd it round on ev'ry Side:
In such a Case, few Words are beft,
And Strephon bids us guess the rest;
But swears how damnably the Men lye,
In calling Celia sweet and cleanly.
Now listen, while he next produces
The various Combs for various Uses;
Fill'd up with Dirt fo closely fixt,
No Brush cou'd force a Way betwixt ;
A Paste of Composition rare,
Sweat, Dandriff, Powder, Lead and Hair.
A Forehead-Cloth with Oil upon’t,
To smooth the Wrinkles on her Front:
Here, Alum Flour to stop the Steams,
Exhald from four unfav'ry Streams ;
There, Night.Gloves made of Tripsey's Hide,
Bequeath'd by Tripley when she dy'd ;
With Puppy-Water, Beauty's Help,
Distillid from Tripley's darling Whelp,
Here Gally-pots and Vials plac'd,
Some fillid with Washes, some with Paste ;
Some with Pomatums, Paints, and Slops,
And Oinments good for fcabby Chops,
Hard by, a filthy Bason stands,
Fould with the scoworing of her Hands;
The Bafon takes whatever comes,
The Scrapings from her Teeth and Gums,
A nasty Compound of all Hues,
For here she spits, and here she spues.
But O! it turn’d poor Strepbon's Bowels,
When he beheld and smelt the Towels :
Begumm’d, bematter'd, and beslim'd;
With Dirt, and Sweat, and Ear-wax grim'd.
No Oject Strephon's Eye escapes ;
Here, Petticoats in frowzy Heaps.
Nor, be the Handkerchiefs forgot,
All varnishid o'er with Snuff and Snot.
The Stockings, why should I expose,
Stain'd with the Moisture of her Toes;
Or, greafy Coifs, and Pinners reeking,
Which Celia Nept at least a Week in.
A Pair of Tweezers next he found,
To pluck her Brows in Arches round,
Or, Hairs that sink the Forehead low,
Or, on her Chin like Bristles grow.
The Virtues we must not let pass
Of Cælia's magnifying Glass :
When frighted Strephon cast his Eye on’t,
It shew'd the Visage of a Giant:
A Glass that can to Sight disclose
The smallest Worm in Cælia's Nose,
And faithfully direct her Nail,
To squeeze it out from Head to Tail ;
For, catch it nicely by the Head,
It must come out, alive or dead.
Way, Strephon, will you tell the rest ?
And must you needs describe the Chest?
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 Spight!
In vain the Workman fhew'd his Wit,
With Rings and Hinges counterfeit,
To make it seem in this Disguise,
A Cabinet to vulgar Eyes;
Which Strephon ventur’d to look in,
Resolv'd to go thro' thick and thin,
He lifts the Lid: There need no more,
He finelt it all the Time before.
As, from within Pandora's Box,
When Epimetheus op'd the Locks,
A sudden universal Crew
Of human Evils upward flew;
He still was comforted to find,
That Hope at last remain'd behind.
So, Strephon, lifting up the Lid,
To view what in the Chest 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.
such a vile Machine
Be once in Cælia's Chamber seen!
O! may she better learn to keep
Those 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 roast them at the clearest Fire;
If from Sadown the hopeful Chops,
The Fat upon a Cinder drops,
To stinking Smoak it turns the Flame,
Pois’ning the Flesh from whence it came,
exhales a greazy Stench, For which you curse the careless Wench: VOL. II.