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diff --git a/14005-0.txt b/14005-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..495b8f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/14005-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,716 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14005 *** + +THE LADIES DELIGHT. + + +CONTAINING, + +I. An Address to all _well provided_ HIBERNIANS; + +II. The ARBOR VITAE; or, Tree of Life. A Poem. Shewing whence it took +it's _Root_, and has spread its _Leaves_ over all Christendom; being +extremely useful to _Students_ in all _Branches_ of polite Literature. + +III. The Natural History of the ARBOR VITAE; or, The Tree of Life, in +Prose; printed from the Original Manuscript. + +IV. RIDOTTO al' FRESCO. A Poem. Describing the Growth of this Tree in +the famous _Spring Gardens_ at _Vaux-Hall_, under the Care of that +ingenious _Botanist_ Doctor H----GG----R. + + * * * * * + +_RES est severa Voluptas_. + + * * * * * + +_LONDON_: + +Printed for _W. James_ in the _Strand_, 1732 + +[Price Six-pence.] + + * * * * * + + + + +AN ADDRESS TO ALL _Well provided_ HIBERNIANS. + + +_Gentlemen_, + +As Nature hath been so _very Indulgent_ to ye, as to stock your Gardens +with _Trees_ of the _largest Growth_, for which Reason ye are caress'd, +whilst Men of _less Parts_, tho' in _some Things_ more deserving, are +laugh'd at, and excluded all Company. + +As all Infants, especially of the Female Sex, are much delighted with +Fruit, so as their Years and other Appetites increase, no Wonder if that +increases too. Both Men and Beasts have _some-thing_ or another, for +which they are esteem'd; so ye being in a particular manner Happy in +this _Talent_, may securely laugh, while ye daily _grow_ in the Ladies +Favour, and spread your _Branches_ over all the Kingdom: Many a hopeful +_Stick of Wood_ has been produc'd by this glorious Tree, who after they +had _piss'd_ their Estates against the Wall (as the good Housewives term +it) have by the Strength of true _Hibernian_ Prowess rais'd themselves +to the Favour of some fair Virtuoso, and being by her _plac'd in a +HOT-BED_, have been restor'd to their pristine Strength, and flourish'd +again; and like true Heroes, not envying the busy World, have been +content to _spend_ the remainder of their Days in an obscure Nook of the +World. + +Thus, Gentlemen, and as all Poets chuse the most Worthy to patronize +their Works, I humbly offer ye the following Poem, and that you may +still continue as ye now are; that your Trees may ever flourish, your +_Green-houses_ be secure, nor your _young Plants_ be ever nipt in the +_Bud_, and that you may ever _stand_ against all _Cracks_, Storms, +Tempests, and _Eruptions_, + +_Is the hearty Wishes of Your's_, + +BOTANICUS. + + + + +THE Natural HISTORY OF THE TREE of LIFE. + + + The Tree of which I fain would sing, + If the kind Muse her Aid would bring, + Is _Arbor Vitae_; but in brief, + By vulgar Men call'd--_Tree of Life_. + + First for Description then, 'tis such + As needs must captivate you much. + In Stem most streight, of lovely Size, + With Head elate this Plant doth rise; + First bare--when it doth further shoot, + _A Tuft of Moss_ keeps warm the Root: + No _Lapland_ Muff has such a Fur, + No Skin so soft has any Cur; + This touch'd, alone the Heart can move, + Which Ladies more than Lap-dogs love; + From this erect springs up the Stalk, + No Power can stop, or ought can baulk; + On Top an _Apex_ crowns the Tree, + As all Mankind may plainly see; + So shines a Filbeard, when the Shell, + Half gone, displays the _ruby Peel_ + Or like a Cherry bright and gay, + Just red'ning in the Month of _May_. + + As other Trees bear Fruit at Top, + And they who rob 'em must _climb up_; + This still more rare doth upward shoot, + But at the Bottom bears its Fruit, + And they who'd reap its Virtues strong, + Need but to lay 'em _all along_, + _Ope' wide, their Mouths_, and they'll receive + The _Fruit of Life_, and eat, and live: + Not the fair Tree that _India_ bears, + All over Spice both Head and Ears, + Can boast more Gifts than the Great Pow'rs + Have granted to this Tree of ours: + That in good Ale its Power boasts, + And ours has _Nutmeg's_ fit for _Toasts_ + And Bags by _Nature_ planted grow, + To keep 'em from all Winds that blow. + + The Rise is slow, and by Degrees, + Both Fruits and Tree itself increase + So slow, that ten Years scarce produce + _Six Inches_ good and fit for Use; + But fifteen ripen well the Fruit, + And add a _viscous Balm_ into't; + Then rub'd, drops Tears as if 'twas greiv'd, + Which by a neighbouring Shrub's receiv'd; + As Men set Tubs to catch the Rain, + So does this Shrub _its Juice_ retain, + Which 'cause it wears a colour'd Robe, + Is justly call'd the _flow'ring Shrub_. + + In every Nation springs this Tree, + In some confin'd; in others more free; + In _England_, 'tis of mod'rate Size, + And oft' does _nine full inches_ rise: + But _Ireland_, tho' in Soil most poor, + Exceeds all Lands in this fame Store; + And sent o'er hither, it is such + As does exceed our own by much, + And gets the Owner many a _Farthing_, + For _Ladies_ love it in their _Garden_. + + That it's a _Tree_ right _sensitive_, + Denies no honest Man alive: + Tho' as one _shrinks_ and will not stand, + This _rises_ at a _Lady's_ Hand, + And grows more strong the more 'tis strok'd, + As others _fall_ when they are _pok'd_. + + When nipping Cold bites off our Nose, + And hoary Frosts the Morn disclose, + In _Hot-beds_ only then 'twill live, + And only when-well warm'd will thrive; + But when warm Summer does appear, + 'Twill _stand_ all _brunts_ in open Air; + Tho' oft they're overcome with Heat, + And sink with Nurture too replete; + Then _Birchen Twigs_, if right apply'd + To Back, Fore-part, or either Side---- + Support a while, _and keep it up_, + Tho' soon again the Plant will droop. + + _Motteux_ had one very untow'rd, + And thought to mend it with a Cord, + But _kill'd the Tree_, yet gain'd his _End_, + Which makes th' Experiment condemn'd. + + Others have thought to mend the Root, + By taking from the Tree its Fruit; + But in the _Nutmegs_ lies the Breed, + And when they're gone we lose the _Seed_; + Tho' Virtuosi still have don't, + And always found it yield Accompt; + For _Hey----gg----r_ then buys the _Wood_, + And of it makes us Whistles good, + Which yearly from _Italia_ sent, + Here answers his and our Intent. + + Others too curious will _innoc_ + _Ulate_ their Plants on _Medlars_ Stock, + (_i.e._ as Tongues in Vulgar pass, + They graft it on an _Open-arse_;) + But Gardeners, Virtuosi, all, + Say this is most _unnatural_. + + That Soil is certainly the best, + Whence first it sprang, and first increast, + In Vallies hollow, soft, and warm, + With Hills to ward off every Storm, + Where Water salt runs trickling down, + And _Tendrils_ lie o'er all the Ground, + Such as the Tree itself shoots forth, + And better if't be tow'rds the _North_; + When such a Piece of Ground you see, + If in the midst a Pit there be, + There plant it deep unto the _Root_, + And never fear----you'll soon have _Fruit_. + + Tho' let young _Botanists_ beware + Of Insects that oft' harbour there, + Which 'mongst the tender _Fibres_ breed, + And if not kill'd, eat up the _Seed_: + Good _Humphrey Bowen_ gives another, + (As each Man should assist his Brother) + That is, to take especial Care + Not to set _Vulvaria_ near; + Of them two Sorts are frequent found, + One helps, and to'ther spoils the Ground; + And many a Plant thriving and tall, + Destroy'd by them, has got a Fall. + + But _Misan_'s taken this just napping, + And _against all Things that can happen_ + Both to the Shrub and Tree, has told some + How to make the deadliest _Wholesome_; + These venomous _Vulvaria_ grow + At _Vaux-Hall_ and _St. James's_ too; + Nay, and about the Tree so leap, + That very few good Plants can 'scape. + + +_The Names and Virtues_ + + + Old Mother _D'Acier_, in her Notes + _On Homer_, some hard _Greek_ Word quotes, + Calls it _Nep, nep_,--I know not what, + And says it is the very Plant that + The tawny Queen to _Helen_ sent, + To cure her Griefs at all Event. + + Great _Milton's Murd'rer_ says it is + The fam'd _Machaera Herculis_, + And proves from some old _Grecian_ Poet, + So plain that all Men sure must know it, + That of this _Tree_ the Club was made, + With which he overcame ('tis said) + _Thespius_' Daughters, all grown wild, + And _fifty Mad-Women_ made _mild_; + Which very Club--(it makes one Laugh) + _Omphale_ turn'd into a Distaff. + Nay, the _Hesperian_ Tree was this, + As shew the _Poma Veneris_; + These Apples doubtless were the Fruit + That 'twixt the Queens rais'd such Dispute, + To make 'em all _stark-naked_ stand, + While _Paris_ held it in his Hand, + And _chuck'd_ it into _Venus_' Mouth, + 'Cause she with Beauty fir'd the Youth. + + The Virtues are of such great Note, + That twenty Volumes might be wrote; + The Juice alone Green-Sickness cures, + And purges thro' all corporal Pores; + If any Maid be sick, or faint + Of Love, or Father's close Constraint, + One Spoonfull of this Cordial Balm + Soon stops each Grief, and every Qualm; + 'Tis true, they sometimes Tumours cause, + And in the Belly make strange Flaws, + But a few Moons will make 'em sound, + And safely fetch the Swelling down. + + Not Saffron chears the Heart like this, + Nor can Champaign give such a Bliss: + When Wife and Husband do fall out, + And both remain in sullen pout, + This brings them to themselves again, + And fast unites the broken Chain; + Makes Feuds and Discords straightway cease + And gives at least a _Night of Peace_. + + This Rarity may now be seen + In _Lambeth_, at a Garden Green, + _Bowen_ his Name, who in high Tone, + Calls it the _Tree of Silver Spoon_, + Which all the Maids of curious Eyes + May there behold of _largest_ Size. + + + + + +THE Natural HISTORY OF THE TREE of LIFE. + +_The_ DESCRIPTION _and_ PLACE. + + +The _Tree of Life_ is a _succulent Plant_, consisting of one only strait +stem, on the top of which is a _Pistillum_ or _Apex_, at some times +_Glandiform_ and resembling a _May-Cherry_, tho' at others, more like +the _Nut_ of the _Avellana_ or _Filbeard-Tree_. + +Its fruits, contrary to most others, grow near the Root; they are +usually no more than two in number, their bigness somewhat exceeding +that of an ordinary _Nutmeg_ both contained in one strong _Siliqua_, or +purse; which, together with the whole root of the plant, is commonly +thick set with numerous _Fibrilla_ or _capillary Tendrils_. + +The tree is of slow growth, and requires time to bring it to perfection, +rarely seeding to any purpose before the fifteenth year; when the fruits +coming to good maturity, yield a viscous Juice or balmy _succus_, which +being from time to time discharged at the _Pistillum_ is mostly bestow'd +upon the open _Calyx's_ of the _Frutex Vulvaria_ or _flow'ring Shrub_ +usually spreading under the shade of this tree, and whose parts are by a +wonderful mechanism adapted to receive it. The ingenious Mr. _Richard +Bradley_ is of opinion, the _Frutex_ is hereby impregnated, and then +first begins to bear; he therefore accounts this _Succus_ the _Farina +foecundans_ of the plant: and the learned _Leonhard Fucksius_, in his +_Historia Stirpium insigniorum_, observes the greatest sympathy between +this tree and shrub, _They are_, says he, _of the same genus, and do +best in the same bed, the_ Vulvaria _itself being indeed no other than +a_ female Arbor Vitae. + +It is produced in most Countries, tho' it thrives more in some than +others, where it also increases to a larger size. The height here in +_England_ rarely passes nine, or at the most, eleven inches, and that +chiefly in _Kent_, whereas in _Ireland_, it comes to far greater +dimensions, is so good, that many of the natives entirely subsist upon +it, and when transplanted, have been sometimes known to raise good +houses with single plants of this sort. + +As the _Irish_ soil is accounted the best, others are as remarkably bad +for its cultivation; and the least and worst in the world are said to be +about _Harborough_ and the _Forest of Sherard_. + +The stem seems to be of the _sensitive_ tribe, tho' herein differing +from the more common _Sensitives_; that whereas they are known to shrink +and retire from even the gentlest touch of a Lady's hand, this rises on +the contrary, and extends itself when it is so handled. + +In winter it is not easy to raise these trees without a hot bed; but in +warmer weather they stand well in the open air. + +In the latter season they are subject to become weak and flaccid, +and want support; for which purpose some gardeners have thought of +splintering them up with _birchen Twigs_, which has seem'd of some +service for the present, tho' the plants have very soon come to the +same or a more drooping state than before. + +The late ingenious Mr. _Motteux_ thought of restoring a fine plant he +had in this condition, by tying it up with a _Tomex_ or cord made of the +bark of the _Vitex_, or _Hempen-Tree_: but whether he made the ligature +too straight, or that the nature of the _Vitex_ is really in itself +pernicious, he quite kill'd his plant thereby; which makes this +universally condemn'd, as a dangerous experiment. + +Some _Virtuosi_ have thought of improving their trees for some purposes, +by taking off the _Nutmegs_, which is however a bad way; they never +_seed_ after, and are good for little more than making whistles of, +which are imported every year from _Italy_, and sell indeed at a good +price. + +Some other curious Gentlemen have endeavour'd to inoculate their plants +on the stock of the _Medlar_ and that with a manure of _human Ordure_, +but this has never been approv'd; and I have known some tree brought to +a _very ill end_ by such management. + +The natural soil is certainly the best for their propagation; and that +is in hollow places, that are warm and near salt water, best known by +their producing the same sort of _Tendrils_ as are observ'd about the +roots of the _Arbor_ itself. Some cautions however are very necessary, +especially to young _Botanists_; and first, to be very diligent in +keeping their trees clean and neat; a pernicious sort of insect, not, +unlike a _Morpione_ or _Cimex_, being very subject to breed amongst the +_Fibrillae_, which, if not taken heed of, and timely destroy'd, proves +often of very dangerous consequence. + +Another caution, no less useful, we have from that excellent and +judicious Botanist Mr. _Humphrey Bowen_, to beware of a poisonous +species of _Vulvaria_, too often mistaken for the wholesome one, and +which, if suffer'd too near our trees, will very greatly endanger their +well-being. He tells us, in the 12th volume of his large abridgment of +_la Quintinye_, that before he had acquir'd his judgment and experience, +some of his plants have often been sufferers through this mistake; and +he has seen a tall thriving tree, by the contact: only of this venomous +shrub, become _porrose, scabiose_, and cover'd with _fungous +Excrescences_ not unlike the fruits of the _Ficus sylvestris_ in which +case the _succus_ also has lost both its colour and vertue; and the tree +itself has so much partaken of the nature of the venomous shrub that had +hurt it, that itself has become venomous, and spread the poison through +a whole Plantation. + +These distempers of a tree of the greatest use and value, have employ'd +the labours of the most eminent Botanists and Gardeners, to seek out +remedies for them: In which, however, none have succeeded like the +celebrated _Dr. Misaubin_ who from his profound knowledge in Botany has +composed a most elaborate work upon _all the things that can happen_, +both to the _Arbor Vitae_ and _Vulvaria also_: There he has taught a +certain cure for all these evils; and, what is most wonderful, has even +found out a way of making the most venomous _Vulvaria_ itself wholesome, +which he practises daily, to the satisfaction of all that apply to him. + +These venomous _Vulvaria_ are but too common in most gardens about +_London_; there are many in St. _James's Park_, and more in the +celebrated gardens at _Vaux-hall_ over the water. + + +_The_ NAMES _and_ VIRTUES. + +Besides the common name of _Arbor Vitae_, a very learned Philosopher +and great Divine would have it call'd, _Arbor Scientiae boni & mali_; +believing, upon very good grounds, this is the tree which grew in the +middle of the garden of _Eden_, and whose fruits were so alluring to +our first mother. Others would have it call'd the _Mandrake_ of _Leah_, +persuaded it is the same whose juice made the before barren _Rachel_ +a joyful mother of children. + +The learned _Madame D'Acier_ in her notes upon _Homer_ contends it +should be called _Nepenthes_. She gives many reasons why it certainly +is that very plant, whose fruits the _Egyptian_ queen recommended to +_Helen_, as a certain cure for pain and grief of all sorts, and which +She ever after kept by her as her most precious jewel, and made use of +as a _Panacaea_ upon all occasions. + +The great Dr. _Bentley_ calls it more than once _Machaera Herculis_, +having proved out of the fragments of a _Greek_ Poet, that of this tree +was made that club with which the hero is said to have overcome the +fifty wild daughters of _Thespius_, but which Queen _Omphale_ afterwards +reduced to a distaff. Others have thought the celebrated _Hesperian_ +trees were of this sort; and the very name of _Poma Veneris_, frequently +given by Authors to the fruits of this tree, is a sufficient proof these +were really the _Apples_ for which three Goddesses contended in so warm +a manner, and to which the Queen of beauty had undoubtedly the strongest +title. + +The vertues are so many, a large volume might be wrote of them. The +juice taken inwardly cures the green-sickness and other infirmities of +the like sort, and is a true specific in most disorders of the fair sex. +It indeed often causes tumours in the umbilical region; but even those +being really of no ill consequence, disperse of themselves in a few +Months. + +It chears the heart, and exhilarates the mind, quiets jars, feuds and +discontents, making the most churlish tempers surprizingly kind and +loving. Nor have private persons only been the better for this +reconciling vertue, but whole states and kingdoms, nay, the greatest +empires in the world have often received the benefit of it; the most +destructive wars have been ended, and the most friendly treaties been +produced, by a right application of this universal medicine among the +chief of the contending parties. + +If any person is desirous to see this excellent and wonderful plant in +good perfection, he may meet with it at the aforementioned Mr _Bowen's_ +garden at _Lambeth_, who calls it _The Silver-Spoon Tree_; and is at all +times ready to oblige his friends with the sight of it. + + + + +THE Ridotto al' Fresco, A POEM. + + + What various Arts attempts the am'rous Swain, + To force the Fair, or her Consent to gain-- + Now _Balls_, now _Masquerades_ his Care employ, + And _Play_ and Park alternately give Joy-- + Industrious _H----gg----r_, whose magick Brains + Still in their Shell the _Recipe_ retains + Like some good Midwife brings the Plot to light + And helps the lab'ring Swain to _Celia's_ Sight; + For this his Eunuchs in high Buskins tread-- + And chaunt harmonious Lays for this,--and _Bread_; + For this the _Assembly's_ fix'd; and the huge Dome + Swells with the Lady's Vows, _when the Stake's gone_.-- + For this he forms the vicious Masquerade, + Where Damsels may securely drive their Trade, + For which the Salesman, Chandler, Chairmen loudly pray, + And Pickpockets too, _hail_ the joyful Day-- + + But now what Tongue can praise the mighty Worth, + Who to _Ridotto_ gave an _English_ Birth; + To him let every Templar bend the Knee, + Receive a Ticket, and give up the Fee: + Let _Drury-Lane_ eternal Columns raise, + And every wanton Wife resound his Praise; + Let Courtiers with implicit Faith obey, + And to their grand Procurer Homage pay. + + No more shall _Duchesses_ to _Bath_ repair, + Or fly to _Tunbridge_ to procure an Heir; + _Spring-Gardens_ can supply their every Want, + For here whate'er they ask the Swain wil grant, + And future Lords (if they'll confess the right) + Shall owe their Being to this blessed Night; + Hence future Wickedness shall take its Rise, + (For Masquerade to this is paultry Vice) + An Aera of new Crimes shall hence begin, + And _H----gg----r_ chief Devil be of Sin; + No more shall Ugliness be his Disgrace, + His Head mends all the Frailties of his Face; + When Masques and Balls to their Conclusion drew, + To this his last Resort the Hero flew; + So by degrees the Errant Knights of old + To Glory rose, and by Degrees grew bold; + A while content the common Road they trod, + 'Till some great Act at last confess the _God_. + + Now Painters _work_,--and dine, that starv'd before, + And Tallymen supply each needy Whore-- + Fam'd _Covent-Garden_ droops with mournful Look, + Nor can St. _James's_ her great Rival brook: + Each _Duck_ and D----ss, quacks to different Tunes, + One _claps her Wings_ for Love, the other swoons; + Each _Vintner_ storms and swears he is undone, + Vollies of Oaths speak loud the Drawer's Moan; + _Porter_ who us'd to search for needful Girls, + Now sucks his Fingers, or his Apron twirls, + Bemoans his Loss of Business, and with Sighs, + In Box imprison'd lays the useless Dice. + + _Spring-Garden_ now alone does all invite + The Cit, the Wit, the Rake, the Fool, the Knight: + No Lady, that can pawn her Coat or Gown, + Will rest 'till she has laid the Money down: + Each Clerk will to the Joints his Fingers work, + And Counsellors find out some modern Querk, + To raise the Guinea, and to see the _Grot_, + And 'mongst the _Belles_ to slant it at _Ridolt_. + + Here Seamstresses and Maids together vie, + And the spruce 'Prentice shines in Sword and Tye: + Bandy'd in Lace the City Dame appears, + Her Hair genteelly frizzled round her Ears; + Her Gown with _Tyrian_ Dyes most richly stain'd, + Glitt'ring with Orient Pearl from Orphans gain'd. + + _My Lord_, to oblige his Spouse, takes Tickets three, + Crys, one's for you my Love, and one for me, + The third dispose as you shall best adjudge, + Shew where you're pleas'd, and where you owe a Grudge: + _Madam_ elate, thinks she'll be kind to _Betty_, + To hide the Slips she made with Spark i'th' City: + But _Stallion Tom_, who well knew how to scold, + And by his Mistress's Favour grown too bold, + Swears if _he_ has it not, he will reveal, + And to his Master tell a dismal Tale; + _Madam_, reluctant, gives him up the Paper; + He at her Folly laughs, and cuts a Caper. + + _Sylvia_, a Lady, kept by twenty Beaux, + Who never yet could brook the Marriage Noose, + By each a Ticket offer'd, scorns 'em all, + In hopes some Fool at last will Victim fall, + And, kindly offer Treat and Ticket too, + Which to her Charms she thinks most justly due; + At last a brisk young _Templar_ full of Fire, + Whom Writs with _Money_, Wine with Love inspire, + Address'd the Dame, she yeilds his glowing Charms, + And for a Ticket flies into his Arms: + + So every _dapper Fop_ and _brawny Rake_ + Will Tickets to their Ladies Presents make; + To Sin, the only certain Dedication, + To every gentle Mistress in the Nation, + From Suburb Whore, to ranting Dame of Fashion; + For none's so niece as to refuse the Suit, + But grasps the Tree tho' 'tis _forbidden Fruit_. + + _Near_ where _the Thames_ in pleasant Windings runs, + _Near_ where the famous Glass-house fiercely burns, + (Which to the Love of poor desponding Swains, + An Emblem terrible, but just retains.) + _Near_ where fam'd _Vaux_ was to have fled, + _With_ lighted Match, soon as he'd done the Deed; + Whence some pretend to say by second Sight, + That it foreshew'd the Fate attends this Night, + 'Cause here the Fair will many _Matches light_. + + _Spring-Gardens_ lie shaded with verdant Trees, + That nod their reverend Heads at every Breeze; + Embassadors like _Turks_ hence send Express, + And _Ministers of State_ like Devils dress-- + + Should some wild _Indian_ see the various Scene, + He'd swear all Nations of the Earth do here convene, + And take for quite reverse this medley Farce, + Think Strumpers Saints, or catstick'd Beau a _Mars_. + + But now the Dancers nimble Feet go round, + And with just Measures beat the passive Ground, + Each one inclines to different Delights-- + Musick the Fair, Sweetmeats the Beau invite; + The _Templar_ wisely does his Care enroll, + Pockets the Pheasant, and eats up the Fowls + Nor will return to join the giddy Rout, + 'Till he has eat and drank his _Guinea_ out. + + Now Dancing fires the Nymph to softer Joys; + The Musick's dull, the Wine and Sweetmeat cloys; + _Strephon_ streight takes the Hint, withdraws a-while, + By soft Endearments does her Grief beguile; + Soon they return more vig'rous than before, + Do what they will, she cannot be a Whore. + + For _Mahomet_ may dream of heavenly Stews, + Where Virgin Rose, soon as it's lost, renews, + And shake with every Breath of Air serene, + As trembling for the Rapes they've daily seen; + When if those past can shake their Height profound, + _Ridotto_ sure will fell them to the Ground; + Here Art to Nature join'd makes it compleat, + And Pyramids and Trees together meet; + Statues amidst the thickest Grove arise, + And lofty Columns tow'ring to the Skies; + Then next an Obelisk its Shade displays, + And rustic Rockwork fills each empty Space; + Each joins to make it noble, and excells + Beaufets for Food, Grotto's for something else. + + But hark! the Doors on jarring Hinges turn, + All enter in, and the blest Scene's begun; + A thousand Lights their livid Flames display, + Pour forth their Blaze, and form a mimick Day: + Sudden a motley Mixture fills the Place, + And Footmen shine as lordly as his Grace; + To see the sad Effect and Power of Change, + Ladies turn'd Men, in Breeches freely range: + Young smooth-chin'd Beaux turn Priests and Fryars, + And Nun's chaste Habits hide our Country 'Squires. + _Belles, Beaux_, and Sharpers here together play, + And Wives throw their good Spouses Wealth away; + And when their Cash runs low, and Fate runs cross, + They then _Cornute_ 'em to retrieve their Loss. + + _Dice_ and Intrigue so mutually are blended, + That one begins as soon as t'other's ended: + A City Heiress blooming, rich, and fair, + Picks up the Cards and Counters with great Care; + Against her fate a smooth young Baron, + Wit he had none, Beauty he had his share on, + A soft clear Skin, a dapper Neck and Waist, + In all Things suited to the modern Taste; + And most polite, like all our modish Brood, + That is, a very Fool, who's very leud: + He ogles Miss, she squints, and turns aside, + Nor can her Mask her rising Blushes hide; + At last (as Bargains here are quickly made) + She yeilds to be Caress'd, tho' still afraid; + She cries, a private Room's for them most fit, + For Reputation is the Glory of a Cit; + This only is the Place, where in a Trice, + Some Angel steals the Wounds of friendly Vice; + The Nymph finds a Relief for all her Pains, + And the lost Maidenhead's restor'd again. + + But who is he in Bower close confin'd, + With a kind Fair t' unbend his troubled Mind, + Sure by his Air, his Beauty, and his Grace, + It _Phoebus_ is, or some of heavenly Race. + + A petty Courtier, of small Estate and Sense, + Stood hearkning by, and cry'd it was the P----ce. + + Your Pardon, Sir, I knew it not before, + For my Mistake depended on his Whore, + One had _Latona_ to'ther has _L----r_. + + Next to the _Grotto_ let us bend our Eye, + The _Grotto_, Patron of Iniquity, + Speak O ye Trees with kind refreshing Shade, + How many Whores have at your Roots been made; + Alas; how small the Number to what now, + This one, this happy Night, alone will shew + So many, that each conscious _Dryad_ flees, + Lest she too should be ravish'd thro' the Trees. + + Next rattling Dice invite th' attentive Ear, + Lords loudly laugh, as loud the Bullies swear: + The Country Knight o'th' Shire sells his Estate, + And here with Heart intrepid meets his Fate; + So they withdrew to quench their glowing Flame, + And to preserve the Honour of her Name; + For oh! sad Fate as they ascend the Stairs, + At the Room Door her good _Mamma_ appears, + Soon as she spies her Child with Looks demure, + She charges her to keep her _Vessel pure_: + Miss pertly answers to avoid her Doom, + _Mamma_, whose Hat and Wig is in the Room? + The good old Dame yeilds at the just Reproach, + Cries--_Well my Dear, don't take too much!_ + + Thus various Joys soon waste the fleeting Night, + And Sleep and Lust the Croud to Bed invite; + Some in their Truckle-Beds to snore all Day, + Others in Gambols with their Wh----es to play; + The Dunghill Trapes, trickt up like virtuous Trull, + If by good Chance, she gets a _Dupe_ or Cull; + On Tallyman intrudes twelve Hours more, + And for a clean Shift presumes to run a Score. + + Sages may say, that Arts and Science fail, + And Ignorance and Folly have weigh'd down the Scale: + In _England_ they have given new Arts a Rise, + And what in Science wants, increase in Vice, + And to be great as Angels when they fell, + (If not exceed) at _least_ they equal _Hell_. + + + + +_FINIS._ + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ladies Delight, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14005 *** |