| |
| IF 1 for thy self thou wilt not watch thy Whore, | |
| Watch her for me, that I may love her more. | |
| What comes with ease, we nauseously receive, | |
| Who, but a Sot, wou’d scorn to love with leave? | |
| With hopes and fears my Flames are blown up higher; | 5 |
| Make me despair, and then I can desire. | |
| Give me a Jilt to tease my Jealous mind; | |
| Deceits are Vertues in the Female kind. | |
| Corinna my Fantastick humour knew, | |
| Play’d trick for trick, and kept her self still new: | 10 |
| She, that next night I might the sharper come, | |
| Fell out with me, and sent me fasting home; | |
| Or some pretence to lye alone would take, | |
| Whene’er she pleas’d her head and teeth wou’d ake: | |
| Till having won me to the highest strain, | 15 |
| She took occasion to be sweet again. | |
| With what a Gust, ye Gods, we then imbrac’d! | |
| How every kiss was dearer than the last! | |
| Thou whom I now adore, be edify’d, | |
| Take care that I may often be deny’d. | 20 |
| Forget the promis’d hour, or feign some fright, | |
| Make me lye rough on Bulks each other Night. | |
| These are the Arts that best secure thy reign, | |
| And this the Food that must my Fires maintain. | |
| Gross easie Love does like gross diet, pall, | 25 |
| In squeasie Stomachs Honey turns to Gall. | |
| Had Danae not been kept in brazen Tow’rs, | |
| Jove had not thought her worth his Golden Show’rs. | |
| When Juno to a Cow turn’d Io’s Shape, | |
| The Watchman helpt her to a second Leap | 30 |
| Let him who loves an easie Whetstone Whore. | |
| Pluck leaves from Trees, and drink the Common Shore. | |
| The Jilting Harlot strikes the surest blow, | |
| A truth which I by sad Experience know. | |
| The kind poor constant Creature we despise, | 35 |
| Man but pursues the Quarry while it flies. | |
| But thou dull Husband of a Wife too fair, | |
| Stand on thy Guard, and watch the pretious Ware; | |
| If creaking Doors, or barking Dogs thou hear, | |
| Or Windows scratcht, suspect a Rival there. | 40 |
| An Orange-wench wou’d tempt thy Wife abroad; | |
| Kick her, for she’s a Letter-bearing Bawd; | |
| In short, be Jealous as the Devil in Hell; | |
| And set my Wit on work to cheat thee well. | |
| The sneaking City Cuckold is my Foe, | 45 |
| I scorn to strike, but when he Wards the blow. | |
| Look to thy hits, and leave off thy Conniving, | |
| I’ll be no Drudge to any Wittall living; | |
| I have been patient, and forborn thee long, | |
| In hope thou wou’dst not pocket up thy wrong: | 50 |
| If no Affront can rouse thee, understand | |
| I’ll take no more Indulgence at thy hand. | |
| What, ne’er to be forbid thy House, and Wife! | |
| Damn him who loves to lead so dull a life. | |
| Now I can neither sigh, nor whine, nor pray, | 55 |
| All those occasions thou hast ta’ne away. | |
| Why art thou so incorrigibly Civil? | |
| Doe somewhat I may wish thee at the Devil. | |
| For shame be no Accomplice in my Treason, | |
| A Pimping Husband is too much in reason. | 60 |
| Once more wear horns, before I quite forsake her, | |
| In hopes whereof I rest thy Cuckold-maker. | |
