Verse > Anthologies > T. R. Smith, ed. > Poetica Erotica: A Collection of Rare and Curious Amatory Verse
T. R. Smith, comp.  Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse.  1921–22.
The Kingdom of the Birds
(A Dialogue between Mr. Pack and Mrs. Bradshaw, in the Opera, called The Kingdom of the Birds, 1719)

She.  Oh Love if a God thou wilt be,
  Do Justice in Favour of me
  For yonder approaching I see
    A Man with a Beard,
    Who as I have heard,        5
    Has often undone
    Poor Maids that have none,
    With sighing, and toying,
    And crying, and lying,
  And such kind of Foolery.        10
He.  Fair Maid by your Leave,
  My Heart does receive
  Strange Pleasure to meet you here,
    Pray tremble not so,
    Nor offer to go,        15
  I’ll do ye no Harm, I swear,
    I’ll do ye no Harm, I swear.
She.  My Mother is spinning at Home,
  My Father works hard at his Loom,
  And we here a milking are come,        20
    Their Dinner they want,
    Pray, Gentleman, don’t
    Make more ado on’t,
    Nor give us affront,
    We’re none of the Town        25
    Will lie down for a Crown,
  Then away, Sir, and give us Room.
He.  By Phœbus, by Jove,
  By Honour, by Love,
  I’ll do ye dear sweet no harm,        30
    Your as fresh as a Rose,
    I want one of those,
  Ah, how such a Wife would charm,
  Ah, how such a Wife would charm.
She.  And can you then like the old Rule,        35
  Be Conjugal, honest, and dull,
  And marry, and look like a Fool,
    For I must be plain,
    All Tricks are in vain,
    There’s nothing can gain        40
    The Thing you’d obtain,
    But moving, and proving,
    By Wedding, true Loving,
  My lesson I learnt at School.
He.  I’ll do’t by this Hand,        45
  I’ve Houses, I’ve Land,
  Estate too in good Free-hold,
    My Dear, let us join,
    It all shall be thine,
  Besides a good Purse of Gold.        50
She.  You make me to blush, now I vow,
  Oh Lord, shall I too baulk my Cow,
  But since the late Oath you have swore,
    Your Soul shall not be,
    In danger for me,        55
    I’ll rather agree,
    Of two to make three,
    We’ll Wed, and we’ll Bed,
    There’s no more to be said,
  And I’ll ne’er go a Milking more.        60

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