YOUR 1 husband will be with us at the Treat; | |
| May that be the last Supper he shall Eat. | |
| And am poor I, a Guest 2 invited there, | |
| Only to see, while he may touch the Fair? | |
| To see you Kiss and Hug your nauseous Lord, | 5 |
| While his leud Hand descends below the Board? | |
| Now wonder not that Hippodamia’s Charms, | |
| At such a sight, the Centaurs urg’d to Arms; | |
| That in a rage they threw their Cups aside, | |
| Assail’d the Bridegroom, and wou’d force the Bride. | 10 |
| I am not half a Horse, (I would I were:) | |
| Yet hardly can from you my Hands forbear. | |
| Take then my Counsel; which observ’d, may be | |
| Of some Importance both to you and me. | |
| Be sure to come before your Man be there; | 15 |
| There’s nothing can be done; but come howe’re. | |
| Sit next him (that belongs to Decency;) | |
| But tread upon my Foot in passing by. | |
| Read in my Looks what silently they speak, | |
| And slily, with your Eyes, your Answer make. | 20 |
| My Lifted Eye-brow shall declare my Pain; | |
| My Right-Hand to his fellow shall complain; | |
| And on the Back a Letter shall design; | |
| Besides a Note that shall be Writ in Wine. | |
| When e’re you think upon our last Embrace, | 25 |
| With your Fore-finger gently touch your Face. | |
| If any Word of mine offend my Dear, | |
| Pull, with your Hand, the Velvet of your Ear. | |
| If you are pleas’d with what I do or say, | |
| Handle your Rings, or with your Fingers play. | 30 |
| As Suppliants use at Altars, hold the Boord, | |
| Whene’re you wish the Devil may take your Lord. | |
| When he fills for you, never touch the Cup; | |
| But bid th’ officious Cuckold drink it up. | |
| The Waiter on those Services employ; | 35 |
| Drink you, and I will snatch it from the Boy: | |
| Watching the part where your sweet Mouth hath been, | |
| And thence, with eager Lips, will suck it in. | |
| If he, with Clownish Manners, thinks it fit | |
| To taste, and offer you the nasty Bit, | 40 |
| Reject his greazy Kindness, and restore | |
| Th’ unsav’ry Morsel he had chew’d before. | |
| Nor let his Arms embrace your Neck, nor rest | |
| Your tender Cheek upon his hairy Breast. | |
| Let not his Hand within your Bosom stray, | 45 |
| And rudely with your pretty Bubbies play. | |
| But above all, let him no Kiss receive; | |
| That’s an Offence I never can forgive. | |
| Do not, O do not that sweet Mouth resign, | |
| Lest I rise up in Arms, and cry, ’Tis mine. | 50 |
| I shall thrust in betwixt, and void of Fear | |
| The manifest Adult’rer will appear. | |
| These things are plain to Sight; but more I doubt | |
| What you conceal beneath your Petticoat. | |
| Take not his Leg between your tender Thighs, | 55 |
| Nor, with your Hand, provoke my Foe to rise. | |
| How many Love-Inventions I deplore, | |
| Which I, my self, have practis’d all before? | |
| How oft have I been forc’d the Robe to lift | |
| In Company; to make a homely shift | 60 |
| For a bare Bout, ill huddled o’re in hast, | |
| While o’re my side the Fair her Mantle cast. | |
| You to your Husband shall not be so kind; | |
| But, lest you shou’d, your Mantle leave behind. | |
| Encourage him to Tope; but Kiss him not, | 65 |
| Nor mix one drop of Water in his Pot. | |
| If he be Fuddled well, and Snores apace | |
| Then we may take Advice from Time and Place. | |
| When all depart, when Complements are loud, | |
| Be sure to mix among the thickest Crowd | 70 |
| There I will be, and there we cannot miss, | |
| Perhaps to Grubble, or at least to Kiss | |
| Alas, what length of Labour I employ, | |
| Just to secure a short and transient Joy! | |
| For Night must part us: and when Night is come, | 75 |
| Tuck’d underneath his Arm he leads you Home. | |
| He locks you in; I follow to the Door, | |
| His Fortune envy, and my own deplore. | |
| He kisses you, he more than kisses too; | |
| Th’ outrageous Cuckold thinks it all his due. | 80 |
| But, add not to his Joy, by your consent, | |
| And let it not be giv’n, but only lent. | |
| Return no Kiss, nor move in any sort; | |
| Make it a dull and a malignant Sport. | |
| Had I my Wish, he shou’d no Pleasure take, | 85 |
| But slubber o’re your Business for my sake. | |
| And what e’re Fortune shall this Night befal, | |
| Coax me to-morrow, by forswearing all. | |
