The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Ladies DelightThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Ladies DelightAuthor: AnonymousRelease date: November 10, 2004 [eBook #14005]Most recently updated: October 28, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by David Starner, David Garcia and the PG Online DistributedProofreading Team.*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADIES DELIGHT ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Ladies DelightAuthor: AnonymousRelease date: November 10, 2004 [eBook #14005]Most recently updated: October 28, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by David Starner, David Garcia and the PG Online DistributedProofreading Team.
Title: The Ladies Delight
Author: Anonymous
Author: Anonymous
Release date: November 10, 2004 [eBook #14005]Most recently updated: October 28, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by David Starner, David Garcia and the PG Online DistributedProofreading Team.
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADIES DELIGHT ***
I. An Address to allwell providedHibernians;II. TheArbor Vitæ; or, Tree of Life. A Poem. Shewing whence it took it'sRoot, and has spread itsLeavesover all Christendom; being extremely useful toStudentsin allBranchesof polite Literature.III. The Natural History of theArbor Vitæ; or, The Tree of Life, in Prose; printed from the Original Manuscript.IV.Ridottoal'Fresco. A Poem. Describing the Growth of this Tree in the famousSpring GardensatVaux-Hall, under the Care of that ingeniousBotanistDoctorH——gg——r.RES est severa Voluptas.LONDON:Printed forW. Jamesin theStrand, 1732[Price Six-pence.]
I. An Address to allwell providedHibernians;
II. TheArbor Vitæ; or, Tree of Life. A Poem. Shewing whence it took it'sRoot, and has spread itsLeavesover all Christendom; being extremely useful toStudentsin allBranchesof polite Literature.
III. The Natural History of theArbor Vitæ; or, The Tree of Life, in Prose; printed from the Original Manuscript.
IV.Ridottoal'Fresco. A Poem. Describing the Growth of this Tree in the famousSpring GardensatVaux-Hall, under the Care of that ingeniousBotanistDoctorH——gg——r.
RES est severa Voluptas.
LONDON:Printed forW. Jamesin theStrand, 1732[Price Six-pence.]
Gentlemen,
A
S Nature hath been sovery Indulgentto ye, as to stock your Gardens withTreesof thelargest Growth, for which Reason ye are caress'd, whilst Men ofless Parts, tho' insome Thingsmore 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 havesome-thingor another, for which they are esteem'd; so ye being in a particular manner Happy in thisTalent, may securely laugh, while ye dailygrowin the Ladies Favour, and spread yourBranchesover all the Kingdom: Many a hopefulStick of Woodhas been produc'd by this glorious Tree, who after they hadpiss'dtheir Estates against the Wall (as the good Housewives term it) have by the Strength of trueHibernianProwess rais'd themselves to the Favour of some fair Virtuoso, and being by herplac'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 tospendthe 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, yourGreen-housesbe secure, nor youryoung Plantsbe ever nipt in theBud, and that you may everstandagainst allCracks, Storms, Tempests, andEruptions,
Is the hearty Wishes of Your's,
Is the hearty Wishes of Your's,
BOTANICUS.
TTHE Tree of which I fain would sing,If the kind Muse her Aid would bring,IsArbor Vitæ; but in brief,By vulgar Men call'd—Tree of Life.First for Description then, 'tis suchAs 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 Mosskeeps warm the Root:NoLaplandMuff 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 anApexcrowns the Tree,As all Mankind may plainly see;So shines a Filbeard, when the Shell,Half gone, displays theruby PeelOr like a Cherry bright and gay,Just red'ning in the Month ofMay.As other Trees bear Fruit at Top,And they who rob 'em mustclimb 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 'emall along,Ope' wide, their Mouths, and they'll receiveTheFruit of Life, and eat, and live:Not the fair Tree thatIndiabears,All over Spice both Head and Ears,Can boast more Gifts than the Great Pow'rsHave granted to this Tree of ours:That in good Ale its Power boasts,And ours hasNutmeg'sfit forToastsAnd Bags byNatureplanted grow,To keep 'em from all Winds that blow.The Rise is slow, and by Degrees,Both Fruits and Tree itself increaseSo slow, that ten Years scarce produceSix Inchesgood and fit for Use;But fifteen ripen well the Fruit,And add aviscous Balminto'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 Shrubits Juiceretain,Which 'cause it wears a colour'd Robe,Is justly call'd theflow'ring Shrub.In every Nation springs this Tree,In some confin'd; in others more free;InEngland, 'tis of mod'rate Size,And oft' doesnine full inchesrise:ButIreland, tho' in Soil most poor,Exceeds all Lands in this fame Store;And sent o'er hither, it is suchAs does exceed our own by much,And gets the Owner many aFarthing,ForLadieslove it in theirGarden.That it's aTreerightsensitive,Denies no honest Man alive:Tho' as oneshrinksand will not stand,Thisrisesat aLady'sHand,And grows more strong the more 'tis strok'd,As othersfallwhen they arepok'd.When nipping Cold bites off our Nose,And hoary Frosts the Morn disclose,InHot-bedsonly then 'twill live,And only when-well warm'd will thrive;But when warm Summer does appear,'Twillstandallbruntsin open Air;Tho' oft they're overcome with Heat,And sink with Nurture too replete;ThenBirchen Twigs, if right apply'dTo Back, Fore-part, or either Side——Support a while,and keep it up,Tho' soon again the Plant will droop.Motteuxhad one very untow'rd,And thought to mend it with a Cord,Butkill'd the Tree, yet gain'd hisEnd,Which makes th' Experiment condemn'd.Others have thought to mend the Root,By taking from the Tree its Fruit;But in theNutmegslies the Breed,And when they're gone we lose theSeed;Tho' Virtuosi still have don't,And always found it yield Accompt;ForHey——gg——rthen buys theWood,And of it makes us Whistles good,Which yearly fromItaliasent,Here answers his and our Intent.Others too curious willinnocUlatetheir Plants onMedlarsStock,(i.e.as Tongues in Vulgar pass,They graft it on anOpen-arse;)But Gardeners, Virtuosi, all,Say this is mostunnatural.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,AndTendrilslie o'er all the Ground,Such as the Tree itself shoots forth,And better if't be tow'rds theNorth;When such a Piece of Ground you see,If in the midst a Pit there be,There plant it deep unto theRoot,And never fear——you'll soon haveFruit.Tho' let youngBotanistsbewareOf Insects that oft' harbour there,Which 'mongst the tenderFibresbreed,And if not kill'd, eat up theSeed:GoodHumphrey Bowengives another,(As each Man should assist his Brother)That is, to take especial CareNot to setVulvarianear;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.ButMisan's taken this just napping,Andagainst all Things that can happenBoth to the Shrub and Tree, has told someHow to make the deadliestWholesome;These venomousVulvariagrowAtVaux-HallandSt. James'stoo;Nay, and about the Tree so leap,That very few good Plants can 'scape.
TTHE Tree of which I fain would sing,If the kind Muse her Aid would bring,IsArbor Vitæ; but in brief,By vulgar Men call'd—Tree of Life.
T
THE Tree of which I fain would sing,
If the kind Muse her Aid would bring,
IsArbor Vitæ; but in brief,
By vulgar Men call'd—Tree of Life.
First for Description then, 'tis suchAs 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 Mosskeeps warm the Root:NoLaplandMuff 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 anApexcrowns the Tree,As all Mankind may plainly see;So shines a Filbeard, when the Shell,Half gone, displays theruby PeelOr like a Cherry bright and gay,Just red'ning in the Month ofMay.
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 Mosskeeps warm the Root:
NoLaplandMuff 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 anApexcrowns the Tree,
As all Mankind may plainly see;
So shines a Filbeard, when the Shell,
Half gone, displays theruby Peel
Or like a Cherry bright and gay,
Just red'ning in the Month ofMay.
As other Trees bear Fruit at Top,And they who rob 'em mustclimb 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 'emall along,Ope' wide, their Mouths, and they'll receiveTheFruit of Life, and eat, and live:Not the fair Tree thatIndiabears,All over Spice both Head and Ears,Can boast more Gifts than the Great Pow'rsHave granted to this Tree of ours:That in good Ale its Power boasts,And ours hasNutmeg'sfit forToastsAnd Bags byNatureplanted grow,To keep 'em from all Winds that blow.
As other Trees bear Fruit at Top,
And they who rob 'em mustclimb 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 'emall along,
Ope' wide, their Mouths, and they'll receive
TheFruit of Life, and eat, and live:
Not the fair Tree thatIndiabears,
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 hasNutmeg'sfit forToasts
And Bags byNatureplanted grow,
To keep 'em from all Winds that blow.
The Rise is slow, and by Degrees,Both Fruits and Tree itself increaseSo slow, that ten Years scarce produceSix Inchesgood and fit for Use;But fifteen ripen well the Fruit,And add aviscous Balminto'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 Shrubits Juiceretain,Which 'cause it wears a colour'd Robe,Is justly call'd theflow'ring Shrub.
The Rise is slow, and by Degrees,
Both Fruits and Tree itself increase
So slow, that ten Years scarce produce
Six Inchesgood and fit for Use;
But fifteen ripen well the Fruit,
And add aviscous Balminto'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 Shrubits Juiceretain,
Which 'cause it wears a colour'd Robe,
Is justly call'd theflow'ring Shrub.
In every Nation springs this Tree,In some confin'd; in others more free;InEngland, 'tis of mod'rate Size,And oft' doesnine full inchesrise:ButIreland, tho' in Soil most poor,Exceeds all Lands in this fame Store;And sent o'er hither, it is suchAs does exceed our own by much,And gets the Owner many aFarthing,ForLadieslove it in theirGarden.
In every Nation springs this Tree,
In some confin'd; in others more free;
InEngland, 'tis of mod'rate Size,
And oft' doesnine full inchesrise:
ButIreland, 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 aFarthing,
ForLadieslove it in theirGarden.
That it's aTreerightsensitive,Denies no honest Man alive:Tho' as oneshrinksand will not stand,Thisrisesat aLady'sHand,And grows more strong the more 'tis strok'd,As othersfallwhen they arepok'd.
That it's aTreerightsensitive,
Denies no honest Man alive:
Tho' as oneshrinksand will not stand,
Thisrisesat aLady'sHand,
And grows more strong the more 'tis strok'd,
As othersfallwhen they arepok'd.
When nipping Cold bites off our Nose,And hoary Frosts the Morn disclose,InHot-bedsonly then 'twill live,And only when-well warm'd will thrive;But when warm Summer does appear,'Twillstandallbruntsin open Air;Tho' oft they're overcome with Heat,And sink with Nurture too replete;ThenBirchen Twigs, if right apply'dTo Back, Fore-part, or either Side——Support a while,and keep it up,Tho' soon again the Plant will droop.
When nipping Cold bites off our Nose,
And hoary Frosts the Morn disclose,
InHot-bedsonly then 'twill live,
And only when-well warm'd will thrive;
But when warm Summer does appear,
'Twillstandallbruntsin open Air;
Tho' oft they're overcome with Heat,
And sink with Nurture too replete;
ThenBirchen 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.
Motteuxhad one very untow'rd,And thought to mend it with a Cord,Butkill'd the Tree, yet gain'd hisEnd,Which makes th' Experiment condemn'd.
Motteuxhad one very untow'rd,
And thought to mend it with a Cord,
Butkill'd the Tree, yet gain'd hisEnd,
Which makes th' Experiment condemn'd.
Others have thought to mend the Root,By taking from the Tree its Fruit;But in theNutmegslies the Breed,And when they're gone we lose theSeed;Tho' Virtuosi still have don't,And always found it yield Accompt;ForHey——gg——rthen buys theWood,And of it makes us Whistles good,Which yearly fromItaliasent,Here answers his and our Intent.
Others have thought to mend the Root,
By taking from the Tree its Fruit;
But in theNutmegslies the Breed,
And when they're gone we lose theSeed;
Tho' Virtuosi still have don't,
And always found it yield Accompt;
ForHey——gg——rthen buys theWood,
And of it makes us Whistles good,
Which yearly fromItaliasent,
Here answers his and our Intent.
Others too curious willinnocUlatetheir Plants onMedlarsStock,(i.e.as Tongues in Vulgar pass,They graft it on anOpen-arse;)But Gardeners, Virtuosi, all,Say this is mostunnatural.
Others too curious willinnoc
Ulatetheir Plants onMedlarsStock,
(i.e.as Tongues in Vulgar pass,
They graft it on anOpen-arse;)
But Gardeners, Virtuosi, all,
Say this is mostunnatural.
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,AndTendrilslie o'er all the Ground,Such as the Tree itself shoots forth,And better if't be tow'rds theNorth;When such a Piece of Ground you see,If in the midst a Pit there be,There plant it deep unto theRoot,And never fear——you'll soon haveFruit.
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,
AndTendrilslie o'er all the Ground,
Such as the Tree itself shoots forth,
And better if't be tow'rds theNorth;
When such a Piece of Ground you see,
If in the midst a Pit there be,
There plant it deep unto theRoot,
And never fear——you'll soon haveFruit.
Tho' let youngBotanistsbewareOf Insects that oft' harbour there,Which 'mongst the tenderFibresbreed,And if not kill'd, eat up theSeed:GoodHumphrey Bowengives another,(As each Man should assist his Brother)That is, to take especial CareNot to setVulvarianear;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.
Tho' let youngBotanistsbeware
Of Insects that oft' harbour there,
Which 'mongst the tenderFibresbreed,
And if not kill'd, eat up theSeed:
GoodHumphrey Bowengives another,
(As each Man should assist his Brother)
That is, to take especial Care
Not to setVulvarianear;
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.
ButMisan's taken this just napping,Andagainst all Things that can happenBoth to the Shrub and Tree, has told someHow to make the deadliestWholesome;These venomousVulvariagrowAtVaux-HallandSt. James'stoo;Nay, and about the Tree so leap,That very few good Plants can 'scape.
ButMisan's taken this just napping,
Andagainst all Things that can happen
Both to the Shrub and Tree, has told some
How to make the deadliestWholesome;
These venomousVulvariagrow
AtVaux-HallandSt. James'stoo;
Nay, and about the Tree so leap,
That very few good Plants can 'scape.
Old MotherD'Acier, in her NotesOn Homer, some hardGreekWord quotes,Calls itNep, nep,—I know not what,And says it is the very Plant thatThe tawny Queen toHelensent,To cure her Griefs at all Event.GreatMilton's Murd'rersays it isThe fam'dMachæra Herculis,And proves from some oldGrecianPoet,So plain that all Men sure must know it,That of thisTreethe Club was made,With which he overcame ('tis said)Thespius' Daughters, all grown wild,Andfifty Mad-Womenmademild;Which very Club—(it makes one Laugh)Omphaleturn'd into a Distaff.Nay, theHesperianTree was this,As shew thePoma Veneris;These Apples doubtless were the FruitThat 'twixt the Queens rais'd such Dispute,To make 'em allstark-nakedstand,WhileParisheld it in his Hand,Andchuck'dit intoVenus' 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 faintOf Love, or Father's close Constraint,One Spoonfull of this Cordial BalmSoon 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 ceaseAnd gives at least aNight of Peace.This Rarity may now be seenInLambeth, at a Garden Green,Bowenhis Name, who in high Tone,Calls it theTree of Silver Spoon,Which all the Maids of curious EyesMay there behold oflargestSize.
Old MotherD'Acier, in her NotesOn Homer, some hardGreekWord quotes,Calls itNep, nep,—I know not what,And says it is the very Plant thatThe tawny Queen toHelensent,To cure her Griefs at all Event.
Old MotherD'Acier, in her Notes
On Homer, some hardGreekWord quotes,
Calls itNep, nep,—I know not what,
And says it is the very Plant that
The tawny Queen toHelensent,
To cure her Griefs at all Event.
GreatMilton's Murd'rersays it isThe fam'dMachæra Herculis,And proves from some oldGrecianPoet,So plain that all Men sure must know it,That of thisTreethe Club was made,With which he overcame ('tis said)Thespius' Daughters, all grown wild,Andfifty Mad-Womenmademild;Which very Club—(it makes one Laugh)Omphaleturn'd into a Distaff.Nay, theHesperianTree was this,As shew thePoma Veneris;These Apples doubtless were the FruitThat 'twixt the Queens rais'd such Dispute,To make 'em allstark-nakedstand,WhileParisheld it in his Hand,Andchuck'dit intoVenus' Mouth,'Cause she with Beauty fir'd the Youth.
GreatMilton's Murd'rersays it is
The fam'dMachæra Herculis,
And proves from some oldGrecianPoet,
So plain that all Men sure must know it,
That of thisTreethe Club was made,
With which he overcame ('tis said)
Thespius' Daughters, all grown wild,
Andfifty Mad-Womenmademild;
Which very Club—(it makes one Laugh)
Omphaleturn'd into a Distaff.
Nay, theHesperianTree was this,
As shew thePoma Veneris;
These Apples doubtless were the Fruit
That 'twixt the Queens rais'd such Dispute,
To make 'em allstark-nakedstand,
WhileParisheld it in his Hand,
Andchuck'dit intoVenus' 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 faintOf Love, or Father's close Constraint,One Spoonfull of this Cordial BalmSoon 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.
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 ceaseAnd gives at least aNight of Peace.
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 aNight of Peace.
This Rarity may now be seenInLambeth, at a Garden Green,Bowenhis Name, who in high Tone,Calls it theTree of Silver Spoon,Which all the Maids of curious EyesMay there behold oflargestSize.
This Rarity may now be seen
InLambeth, at a Garden Green,
Bowenhis Name, who in high Tone,
Calls it theTree of Silver Spoon,
Which all the Maids of curious Eyes
May there behold oflargestSize.
T
HETree of Lifeis asucculent Plant, consisting of one only strait stem, on the top of which is aPistillumorApex, at some timesGlandiformand resembling aMay-Cherry, tho' at others, more like theNutof theAvellanaorFilbeard-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 ordinaryNutmegboth contained in one strongSiliqua, or purse; which, together with the whole root of the plant, is commonly thick set with numerousFibrillaorcapillary 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 balmysuccus, which being from time to time discharged at thePistillumis mostly bestow'd upon the openCalyx'sof theFrutex Vulvariaorflow'ring Shrubusually spreading under the shade of this tree, and whose parts are by a wonderful mechanism adapted to receive it. The ingenious Mr.Richard Bradleyis of opinion, theFrutexis hereby impregnated, and then first begins to bear; he therefore accounts thisSuccustheFarina foecundansof the plant: and the learnedLeonhard Fucksius, in hisHistoria 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, theVulvariaitself being indeed no other than afemale Arbor Vitæ.
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 inEnglandrarely passes nine, or at the most, eleven inches, and that chiefly inKent, whereas inIreland, 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 theIrishsoil is accounted the best, others are as remarkably bad for its cultivation; and the least and worst in the world are said to be aboutHarboroughand theForest of Sherard.
The stem seems to be of thesensitivetribe, tho' herein differing from the more commonSensitives; 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 withbirchen 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.Motteuxthought of restoring a fine plant he had in this condition, by tying it up with aTomexor cord made of the bark of theVitex, orHempen-Tree: but whether he made the ligature too straight, or that the nature of theVitexis really in itself pernicious, he quite kill'd his plant thereby; which makes this universally condemn'd, as a dangerous experiment.
SomeVirtuosihave thought of improving their trees for some purposes, by taking off theNutmegs, which is however a bad way; they neverseedafter, and are good for little more than making whistles of, which are imported every year fromItaly, and sell indeed at a good price.
Some other curious Gentlemen have endeavour'd to inoculate their plants on the stock of theMedlarand that with a manure ofhuman Ordure, but this has never been approv'd; and I have known some tree brought to avery ill endby 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 ofTendrilsas are observ'd about the roots of theArboritself. Some cautions however are very necessary, especially to youngBotanists; and first, to be very diligent in keeping their trees clean and neat; a pernicious sort of insect, not, unlike aMorpioneorCimex, being very subject to breed amongst theFibrillæ, 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 ofVulvaria, 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 ofla 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, becomeporrose, scabiose, and cover'd withfungous Excrescencesnot unlike the fruits of theFicus sylvestrisin which case thesuccusalso 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 celebratedDr. Misaubinwho from his profound knowledge in Botany has composed a most elaborate work uponall the things that can happen, both to theArbor VitæandVulvaria 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 venomousVulvariaitself wholesome, which he practises daily, to the satisfaction of all that apply to him.
These venomousVulvariaare but too common in most gardens aboutLondon; there are many in St.James's Park, and more in the celebrated gardens atVaux-hallover the water.
Besides the common name ofArbor Vitæ, a very learned Philosopher and great Divine would have it call'd,Arbor Scientiæ boni & mali; believing, upon very good grounds, this is the tree which grew in the middle of the garden ofEden, and whose fruits were so alluring to our first mother. Others would have it call'd theMandrakeofLeah, persuaded it is the same whose juice made the before barrenRachela joyful mother of children.
The learnedMadame D'Acierin her notes uponHomercontends it should be calledNepenthes. She gives many reasons why it certainly is that very plant, whose fruits theEgyptianqueen recommended toHelen, 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 aPanacæaupon all occasions.
The great Dr.Bentleycalls it more than onceMachæra Herculis, having proved out of the fragments of aGreekPoet, that of this tree was made that club with which the hero is said to have overcome the fifty wild daughters ofThespius, but which QueenOmphaleafterwards reduced to a distaff. Others have thought the celebratedHesperiantrees were of this sort; and the very name ofPoma Veneris, frequently given by Authors to the fruits of this tree, is a sufficient proof these were really theApplesfor 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 MrBowen'sgarden atLambeth, who calls itThe Silver-Spoon Tree; and is at all times ready to oblige his friends with the sight of it.
TWhat various Arts attempts the am'rous Swain,To force the Fair, or her Consent to gain—NowBalls, nowMasqueradeshis Care employ,AndPlayand Park alternately give Joy—IndustriousH——gg——r, whose magick BrainsStill in their Shell theReciperetainsLike some good Midwife brings the Plot to lightAnd helps the lab'ring Swain toCelia'sSight;For this his Eunuchs in high Buskins tread—And chaunt harmonious Lays for this,—andBread;For this theAssembly'sfix'd; and the huge DomeSwells 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,hailthe joyful Day—But now what Tongue can praise the mighty Worth,Who toRidottogave anEnglishBirth;To him let every Templar bend the Knee,Receive a Ticket, and give up the Fee:LetDrury-Laneeternal Columns raise,And every wanton Wife resound his Praise;Let Courtiers with implicit Faith obey,And to their grand Procurer Homage pay.No more shallDuchessestoBathrepair,Or fly toTunbridgeto procure an Heir;Spring-Gardenscan 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 Æra of new Crimes shall hence begin,AndH——gg——rchief 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 oldTo Glory rose, and by Degrees grew bold;A while content the common Road they trod,'Till some great Act at last confess theGod.Now Painterswork,—and dine, that starv'd before,And Tallymen supply each needy Whore—Fam'dCovent-Gardendroops with mournful Look,Nor can St.James'sher great Rival brook:EachDuckand D——ss, quacks to different Tunes,Oneclaps her Wingsfor Love, the other swoons;EachVintnerstorms and swears he is undone,Vollies of Oaths speak loud the Drawer's Moan;Porterwho 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-Gardennow alone does all inviteThe 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 theGrot,And 'mongst theBellesto slant it atRidolt.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 withTyrianDyes 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:Madamelate, thinks she'll be kind toBetty,To hide the Slips she made with Spark i'th' City:ButStallion Tom, who well knew how to scold,And by his Mistress's Favour grown too bold,Swears ifhehas 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 youngTemplarfull of Fire,Whom Writs withMoney, Wine with Love inspire,Address'd the Dame, she yeilds his glowing Charms,And for a Ticket flies into his Arms:So everydapper Fopandbrawny RakeWill 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' 'tisforbidden Fruit.Nearwherethe Thamesin pleasant Windings runs,Nearwhere the famous Glass-house fiercely burns,(Which to the Love of poor desponding Swains,An Emblem terrible, but just retains.)Nearwhere fam'dVauxwas to have fled,Withlighted 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 manyMatches light.Spring-Gardenslie shaded with verdant Trees,That nod their reverend Heads at every Breeze;Embassadors likeTurkshence send Express,AndMinisters of Statelike Devils dress—Should some wildIndiansee 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 aMars.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;TheTemplarwisely does his Care enroll,Pockets the Pheasant, and eats up the FowlsNor will return to join the giddy Rout,'Till he has eat and drank hisGuineaout.Now Dancing fires the Nymph to softer Joys;The Musick's dull, the Wine and Sweetmeat cloys;Strephonstreight 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.ForMahometmay 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,Ridottosure 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 excellsBeaufets 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 thenCornute'em to retrieve their Loss.Diceand 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,ItPhoebusis, 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 hadLatonato'ther hasL——r.Next to theGrottolet us bend our Eye,TheGrotto, 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 shewSo many, that each consciousDryadflees,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 goodMammaappears,Soon as she spies her Child with Looks demure,She charges her to keep herVessel 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 aDupeor 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:InEnglandthey 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) atleastthey equalHell.
TWhat various Arts attempts the am'rous Swain,To force the Fair, or her Consent to gain—NowBalls, nowMasqueradeshis Care employ,AndPlayand Park alternately give Joy—IndustriousH——gg——r, whose magick BrainsStill in their Shell theReciperetainsLike some good Midwife brings the Plot to lightAnd helps the lab'ring Swain toCelia'sSight;For this his Eunuchs in high Buskins tread—And chaunt harmonious Lays for this,—andBread;For this theAssembly'sfix'd; and the huge DomeSwells 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,hailthe joyful Day—
T
What various Arts attempts the am'rous Swain,
To force the Fair, or her Consent to gain—
NowBalls, nowMasqueradeshis Care employ,
AndPlayand Park alternately give Joy—
IndustriousH——gg——r, whose magick Brains
Still in their Shell theReciperetains
Like some good Midwife brings the Plot to light
And helps the lab'ring Swain toCelia'sSight;
For this his Eunuchs in high Buskins tread—
And chaunt harmonious Lays for this,—andBread;
For this theAssembly'sfix'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,hailthe joyful Day—
But now what Tongue can praise the mighty Worth,Who toRidottogave anEnglishBirth;To him let every Templar bend the Knee,Receive a Ticket, and give up the Fee:LetDrury-Laneeternal Columns raise,And every wanton Wife resound his Praise;Let Courtiers with implicit Faith obey,And to their grand Procurer Homage pay.
But now what Tongue can praise the mighty Worth,
Who toRidottogave anEnglishBirth;
To him let every Templar bend the Knee,
Receive a Ticket, and give up the Fee:
LetDrury-Laneeternal Columns raise,
And every wanton Wife resound his Praise;
Let Courtiers with implicit Faith obey,
And to their grand Procurer Homage pay.
No more shallDuchessestoBathrepair,Or fly toTunbridgeto procure an Heir;Spring-Gardenscan 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 Æra of new Crimes shall hence begin,AndH——gg——rchief 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 oldTo Glory rose, and by Degrees grew bold;A while content the common Road they trod,'Till some great Act at last confess theGod.
No more shallDuchessestoBathrepair,
Or fly toTunbridgeto procure an Heir;
Spring-Gardenscan 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 Æra of new Crimes shall hence begin,
AndH——gg——rchief 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 theGod.
Now Painterswork,—and dine, that starv'd before,And Tallymen supply each needy Whore—Fam'dCovent-Gardendroops with mournful Look,Nor can St.James'sher great Rival brook:EachDuckand D——ss, quacks to different Tunes,Oneclaps her Wingsfor Love, the other swoons;EachVintnerstorms and swears he is undone,Vollies of Oaths speak loud the Drawer's Moan;Porterwho 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.
Now Painterswork,—and dine, that starv'd before,
And Tallymen supply each needy Whore—
Fam'dCovent-Gardendroops with mournful Look,
Nor can St.James'sher great Rival brook:
EachDuckand D——ss, quacks to different Tunes,
Oneclaps her Wingsfor Love, the other swoons;
EachVintnerstorms and swears he is undone,
Vollies of Oaths speak loud the Drawer's Moan;
Porterwho 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-Gardennow alone does all inviteThe 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 theGrot,And 'mongst theBellesto slant it atRidolt.
Spring-Gardennow 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 theGrot,
And 'mongst theBellesto slant it atRidolt.
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 withTyrianDyes most richly stain'd,Glitt'ring with Orient Pearl from Orphans gain'd.
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 withTyrianDyes 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:Madamelate, thinks she'll be kind toBetty,To hide the Slips she made with Spark i'th' City:ButStallion Tom, who well knew how to scold,And by his Mistress's Favour grown too bold,Swears ifhehas 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.
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:
Madamelate, thinks she'll be kind toBetty,
To hide the Slips she made with Spark i'th' City:
ButStallion Tom, who well knew how to scold,
And by his Mistress's Favour grown too bold,
Swears ifhehas 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 youngTemplarfull of Fire,Whom Writs withMoney, Wine with Love inspire,Address'd the Dame, she yeilds his glowing Charms,And for a Ticket flies into his Arms:
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 youngTemplarfull of Fire,
Whom Writs withMoney, Wine with Love inspire,
Address'd the Dame, she yeilds his glowing Charms,
And for a Ticket flies into his Arms:
So everydapper Fopandbrawny RakeWill 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' 'tisforbidden Fruit.
So everydapper Fopandbrawny 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' 'tisforbidden Fruit.
Nearwherethe Thamesin pleasant Windings runs,Nearwhere the famous Glass-house fiercely burns,(Which to the Love of poor desponding Swains,An Emblem terrible, but just retains.)Nearwhere fam'dVauxwas to have fled,Withlighted 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 manyMatches light.
Nearwherethe Thamesin pleasant Windings runs,
Nearwhere the famous Glass-house fiercely burns,
(Which to the Love of poor desponding Swains,
An Emblem terrible, but just retains.)
Nearwhere fam'dVauxwas to have fled,
Withlighted 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 manyMatches light.
Spring-Gardenslie shaded with verdant Trees,That nod their reverend Heads at every Breeze;Embassadors likeTurkshence send Express,AndMinisters of Statelike Devils dress—
Spring-Gardenslie shaded with verdant Trees,
That nod their reverend Heads at every Breeze;
Embassadors likeTurkshence send Express,
AndMinisters of Statelike Devils dress—
Should some wildIndiansee 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 aMars.
Should some wildIndiansee 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 aMars.
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;TheTemplarwisely does his Care enroll,Pockets the Pheasant, and eats up the FowlsNor will return to join the giddy Rout,'Till he has eat and drank hisGuineaout.
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;
TheTemplarwisely 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 hisGuineaout.
Now Dancing fires the Nymph to softer Joys;The Musick's dull, the Wine and Sweetmeat cloys;Strephonstreight 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.
Now Dancing fires the Nymph to softer Joys;
The Musick's dull, the Wine and Sweetmeat cloys;
Strephonstreight 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.
ForMahometmay 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,Ridottosure 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 excellsBeaufets for Food, Grotto's for something else.
ForMahometmay 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,
Ridottosure 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 thenCornute'em to retrieve their Loss.
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 thenCornute'em to retrieve their Loss.
Diceand 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.
Diceand 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,ItPhoebusis, or some of heavenly Race.
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,
ItPhoebusis, or some of heavenly Race.
A petty Courtier, of small Estate and Sense,Stood hearkning by, and cry'd it was the P——ce.
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 hadLatonato'ther hasL——r.
Your Pardon, Sir, I knew it not before,
For my Mistake depended on his Whore,
One hadLatonato'ther hasL——r.
Next to theGrottolet us bend our Eye,TheGrotto, 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 shewSo many, that each consciousDryadflees,Lest she too should be ravish'd thro' the Trees.
Next to theGrottolet us bend our Eye,
TheGrotto, 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 consciousDryadflees,
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 goodMammaappears,Soon as she spies her Child with Looks demure,She charges her to keep herVessel 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!
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 goodMammaappears,
Soon as she spies her Child with Looks demure,
She charges her to keep herVessel 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 aDupeor Cull;On Tallyman intrudes twelve Hours more,And for a clean Shift presumes to run a Score.
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 aDupeor 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:InEnglandthey 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) atleastthey equalHell.
Sages may say, that Arts and Science fail,
And Ignorance and Folly have weigh'd down the Scale:
InEnglandthey 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) atleastthey equalHell.