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Keep them to wholesome food confin'd,
Nor let them taste what causes wind:
'Tis this the sage of Samos means,
Forbidding his disciples beans.
O! think what evils must ensue ;
Miss Moll the jade will burn it blue:
And, when she once has got the art,
She cannot help it for her heart;
But out it Aies, ev'n when she meets
Her bridegroom in the wedding-sheets.
Carminative and diuretick
Will damp all passion sympathetick:
And Love such nicety requires,
One blast will put out all his fires.
Since husbands get behind the scene,
The wife should study to be clean;
Nor give the smallest room to guess
The time when wants of nature press;
But after marriage practise more
Decorum than she did before;
To keep her spouse deluded still,
And make him fancy what she will.
In bed we left the married pair :
'Tis time to show how things went there.
Strephon, who had been often told
That fortune still assists the bold,
Resolv'd to make the first attack;
But Chloe drove hiin fiercely back.
How could a nymph so chaste as Chloe,
With constitution cold and snowy,
Permit a brutish man to touch her?
Ev'n lambs by instinct fly the butcher.
Resistance on the wedding-night
Is what our maidens claim by right:
And Chloe, 'tis by all agreed,
Was maid in thought, in word, and deed.
Yet some assign a different reason ;
That Strephon chose no proper season.
Say, fair ones, must I make a pause, Or freely tell the secret cause?
Twelve cups of tea (with grief I speak) Had now constrain’d the nymph to leak. This point must needs be settled first : The bride must either void or burst. Then see the dire effects of pease; Think what can give the colick ease. The nymph oppress'd before, behind, As ships are toss'd by waves and wind, Steals out her hand, by nature led, And brings a vessel into bed; Fair utensil, as smooth and white As Chloe's skin, almost as bright.
Strephon, who heard the fuming rill As from a mossy cliff distil, Cry'd out, Ye Gods! what sound is this? Can Chloe, heavenly Chloe, But when he smelt a noisome steam, Which oft' attends that lukewarın stream: (Salerno both together joins, As sovereign medicines for the loins ;) And though contriv'd, we may suppose, To slip his ears, yet struck his nose : He found her, while the scent increas'd, As mortal as himself at least. But soon, with like occasions press’d, He boldly sent his hand in quest. (Inspir’d with courage from his bride) To reach the pot on t’ other side: And, as he fill’d the reeking vase, Let fly a rouser in her face.,
The little Cupids hovering round,
(As pictures prove, with garlands crown'd)
Abash'd at what they saw and heard,
Flew off, nor ever more appear'd.
Adieu to rayishing delights,
High raptures, and romantick flights;
To goddesses so heavenly sweet,
Expiring shepherds at their feet;
To silver meads and shady bowers,
Dress'd up with amaranthine flowers.
How great a change ! how quickly made!
They learn to call a spade a spade.
They soon from all constraint are freed;
Can see each other do their need.
On box of cedar sits the wife,
And makes it warm for dearest life;
And, by the beastly way of thinking,
Find great society in stinking.
Now Strephon daily entertains
His Chloe in the homeliest strains ;
And Chloe, more experienc'd grown,
With interest pays him back his own,
No maid at court is less asham'd,
Howe'er for selling bargains fam'd,
Than she to name her parts behind,
Or when abed to let out wind.
Fair Decency, celestial maid !
Descend from Heaven to Beauty's aid!
Though Beauty may beget desire,
"Tis thou must fan the Lover's fire :
For Beauty, like supreme dominion,
Is best supported by Opinion;
if Decency bring no supplies,
Opinion falls, and Beauty dies.
To see some radiant nymph appear
In all her glittering birth-day gear,
You thinķ some goddess from the sky
Descended, ready cut and dry:
But, ere you sell yourself to laughter,
Consider well what may come after ;
For fine ideas vanish fast,
While all the gross and filthy last.
O Strephon, ere that fatal day
When Chloe stole your heart away,
Had you but through a cranny spy'd
On house of ease your future bride,
In all the postures of her face,
Which nature gives in such a case;
Distortions, groanings, strainings, heavings,
'Twere better you had lick'd her leavings,
Than from experience find too late
Your goddess grown a filthy mate.
Your fancy then had always dwelt
On what you saw, and what you smelt;
Would still the same ideas give ye,
As when you spy'd her on the privy ;
And, spite of Chloe's charms divine,
Your heart had been as whole as mine.
Authorities, both old and recent,
Direct that women must be decent;
And from the spouse each blemish hide,
More than from all the world beside.
Unjustly all our nymphs complain
Their empire holds so short a reign ;
Is, after marriage, lost so soon,
It hardly holds the boney-moon :
For, if they keep not what they caught,
It is entirely their own fault.
They take possession of the crown,
And then throw all their weapons down:
T'hough, by the politician's scheme,
Whoe'er arrives at power supreme,
Those arts, by which at first they gain it,
They still must practise to maintain it.
What various ways our females take
To pass for wits before a rake!
And in the fruitless search pursue
All other methods but the true!
Some try to learn polite behaviour
By reading books against their Saviour;
Some call it witty to reflect
On every natural defect;
Some show they never want explaining,
To comprehend a double meaning.
But sure a telltale out of school
Is of all wits the greatest fool ;
Whose rank imagination fills
Her heart, and from her lips distils;
You'd think she utter'd from behind,
Or at her mouth was breaking wind.
Why is a handsome wife ador'd
By every coxcomb but her lord ?
From yonder puppetman inquire,
Who wisely hides his wood and wire;
Shows Sheba's queen completely drest,
And Solomon in royal vest :
But view them litter'd on the floor,
Or strung on pegs behind the door;
Punch is exactly of a piece
With Lorrain's duke, and prince of Greece.
A prudent builder should forecast How long the stuff is like to last; And carefully observe the ground, To build on some foundation sound. What house, when its materials crumble, Must not inevitably tumble ? What edifice can long endure Rais'd on a basis unsecure? Rash mortals, ere you take a wife, Contrive your pile to last for life: Since beauty scarce endures a day, And youth so swiftly glides away; Why will you make yourself a bubble, To build on sand with hay and stubble?
On sense and wit your passion found, a By decency cemented round
; Let prudence with good nature strive, To keep esteem and love aliye,