WERT thou but half so wise as thou art fair, | |
| Thou would’st not need such courting, | |
| ’Twill prove a loss you’ll ne’er repair, | |
| Should you still defer your sporting. | |
| This peevish shall I, shall I, you’ll repent, | 5 |
| When your spring is over, | |
| Beauties after-math—no kind friends hath | |
| To gratify a Lover! | |
| |
| Perhaps you may think ’tis a sin to deal, | |
| Till Hymen doth authorize you: | 10 |
| Though the Gods themselves sweet pleasure steal, | |
| That to coyness thus advise you. | |
| Pox upon the Link-boy and his Taper, | |
| I’ll kiss, although not have you, | |
| ’Twas an Eunuch wrote all the Text that you quote, | 15 |
| And the Ethics that enslave you. | |
| |
| I am sure you have heard of that sprightly Dame | |
| That with Mars so often traded, | |
| Had the God but thought she had been to blame, | |
| She had surely been degraded. | 20 |
| Nor is blind Cupid less esteemed | |
| For the sly tricks on his Mother, | |
| For men do adore that Son of a Whore, | |
| As much as any other. | |
| |
| ’Tis plain antiquity doth lie | 25 |
| Which made Lucretia squeamish; | |
| For that which you call Chastity, | |
| Upon her left a blemish: | |
| For when her Paramour grew weak, | |
| Her passion waxed stronger, | 30 |
| For the Lecherous Drab her self did stab | |
| ’Cause Tarquin staid no longer. | |
| |
| Then away with this Bugbear Vice, | |
| You are lost if that you fly me, | |
| In Elysium (if you here are nice) | 35 |
| You never shall come nigh me: | |
| Hell for Vestals is a Cloister | |
| I don’t run doting thither, | |
| For the pleasant shades are for her that trades: | |
| Let’s truck and go together. | 40 |
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