HERO AND LEANDER, IN Burlesque.  
LONDON, Printed in the Year, MDCLXIX.   

HERO AND LEANDER. IN BURLESQUE.  

THe Towns of Sestus and Abydos stood  
As near to one another as they could;  
For spiteful Hellespont still between them ran,  
Of whose outragiousness you'll hear anon:  
Yet that they still communicated, note,  
By floating Bridge now called a Ferry-boat,  
Which if this year lay on Abidus' side,  
The next to Sestian Dock was to be tied:  
For Senate's sage of both Towns could agree  
By turns to be the Masters of the Sea:  
But always when Abydos had the Boat,  
The State, and it had but the same Pilot;  
A shrewd old Swabber with a neck a tied,  
And evermore inclined to the right;  
His fellow Burghers sage remark, and cause  
Why he was chosen fisher of the Laws:  
Besides the situation of his ears  
They saw was such, no traitorous whisperers  
Could easily approach them, one was still  
Pricked up to heaven to receive her will,  
Tother did earthward lop, good man, with pain  
To hear the needy, and oppressed complain.  
But when you know his Education, you'll  
Allow the man in all points fit to rule.  
He was brought up to danger, and to rapine,  
Dabbled ith'sea, and with a line, and a pin,  
Which the young Urchin cunningly would crook,  
With fly, or worm disguise it then, and rook  
The Ocean of her fish; for e'er a Swabber  
He was a Sprat-catcher, or good Eele-bobber.  
Alcides when a whuleing piss-abed  
By Poets (if you'll trust 'em) hath been said  
Over a thumping Adder to prevail;  
This little Rogue could hold an Eel by th'tail:  
And with his strength his art increased, was able  
Soon well to steer a Skiff, and grasp a Cable,  
Could tack about, shift sails, wheadle the wind,  
And make it come before him, or behind:  
Knew where the rocks did lie, & sneaking shelves,  
And places where bold men might drown themselves;  
Kenned Storms far off, knew whether they had more  
A mind to come to Sea, or stay a shore:  
But to be short, and plain, he knew as well  
The Sea, as Beggar doth his Dish, could tell  
What the least Cockle did in's shell, and guests  
How many arms length where 'twas bottomless;  
Such was the man for sway, you'll think him now  
Worthy as Roman newly ta'en from Blow:  
Yet know his praises I have not begun,  
Fine Gentleman Leander was his Son,  
With whose most generous inclination he  
To's cost (few Fathers do so) did agree,  
And bound him Apprentice to a worthy Barber,  
The best, not such another in the harbour,  
Unless our poor Leander had lived to't  
Most probable opinion to confute.  
He was so handy, nimble, tied, so neat  
In's person, and his implements complete:  
His Towels, like his skin, were white, and fine,  
Nought but his face his basin could outshine;  
So picked, so washed his Combs of Ivory,  
Unless his teeth their whiteness nought came nigh,  
With others that were made of horn, or box,  
He often would compare his golden locks;  
With whom (if none had too much beard) he'd play,  
And innocently sport out half the day;  
But when you did sit down, with such a grace  
Handled your throat, your ears, your nose, your face,  
Tickled where others pain; Maids who did eye him  
Wished themselves Satyrs to be trimmed by him:  
Could dive into the channels of your brain,  
And with a feat dexterity make plain  
The passage, though before 'twas ne'er so rough,  
Yet with less pain to you, then taking snuff;  
For he wore nails as long as bill of Bittern,  
For that to scrape teeth, and to play on Cittern;  
Nay he had all good qualities, could tie  
A Cuff-String, or Crevat so jantyly:  
With all had conscience, and for copper spanker  
Would make Seafaring beard look like an anchor.  
For's mettle, and agility, with which  
Writers are bound their Heroes to enrich;  
I must confess I can't say much, but know  
For certain he could cringe, and bow full low.  
For throwing of the Bar he never cared,  
Cudgels, nor wrestling, that I ever heard,  
Or any brutish sports, which make men wrangle;  
On holidays he went alone to angle;  
Loved swimming well, and swum like any Duck;  
But where most skill there ever is least luck:  
And Arts, like women after a long wooing,  
Oft shame our industry, and prove undoing.  
Now tow me Muse o'er to the other side,  
Where most egregious Hero did abide;  
You sacred Dame I mean who once did steer  
The prosperous praise of great Magnanos' dear;  
If you have any time, help me ashore  
With Heros commendation, and though poor  
I am, in socket trimmed with bays I swear,  
I'll tall rush candle to thy glory rear;  
Which likewise may as Pharo serve to light  
Your groping Orators, when it is night,  
Throughout Parnassus; come 'tis as folks say,  
Who'd have his business done, must bribe, not pray.  
What do you pause at now? I know as Muse  
To scorn good wages was your simple use;  
With me hang not an arse: Hero then was  
A bonny buxom bouncing Sestian Lass,  
Of all the Grecian Girls the very Flower,  
Lived at the Towns end at the sign of Tower,  
With her own Mother a large hearted woman,  
Whose house to merry Greeks was always common;  
A comely Widow, and had long been so,  
For th'oldest in the town did never know  
The Father of fine Hero, whence disputes  
That some Sea-god disguised in fishing boots  
Did catch her on the shore, & there did strand her,  
And so contrived a Mistress for Leander.  
But whether so, or no, or how it was,  
She grew too great for Mortal to embrace,  
And haughtily did stave off many proffers,  
Resolved to keep the Keys of her own Coffers,  
And scorned to be with any a yoke-fellow,  
Or to admit competitor of pillow:  
But kept the Empire of her bed to cough,  
Snore, belch, break wind, and no one should cry soh:  
And howsoever Love, and Lover did contrive it,  
The cunning wilful Widow did not wive it,  
Unless she practised secret Matrimony,  
For licence but for wine she had not any.  
But what of that? I warrant she was wise  
Enough to keep herself from Church Excise.  
Was Hero not in spite of all the Clerg'in  
Sestus, and what they all could do, a Virgin?  
And to her Mother was but young, yet could  
Some say as much as she, nay much more did  
Within-doors, and long of her complaisance  
It was, her mother's liquor had good utterance.  
For she was still in motion, now i'th'Garret,  
And straight down in the Cellar drawing Claret;  
Hasty as lightning she would shoot the stairs,  
If no one did oppose her unawares;  
Would bolt into the room like startled Coney,  
But still dropped at the door due Ceremony;  
Then mumped out, gentlemans what d'ye lack—  
When straight she's answered with a bob, or smack:  
But some one rising, in her ear doth tell her,  
She answers him aloud, the best i'th'Cellar:  
He follows down, and broaches where he will,  
But with a gentle caution not to spill.  
She made, and unmade beds most nimblely,  
Not like her Dams, hers was a slim-belly:  
And now and then, with her sweet company  
Could satisfy gay guest for lodging high;  
His raging bowels supper should not miss,  
For she could stay a stomach with a kiss:  
At coming in and out could compliment  
The guests, and give 'em marvellous content.  
For truly she well-spoken damsel was,  
Like favourite Advocate brought all to pass,  
And not as foolish Maids with nature nice,  
But boldly used her own good qualities  
Not only for herself, but other foke,  
Could break mad ranting Girls to th'marriage yoke.  
To bashful, or dumb Lovers she was common,  
And public mouth, or as we say, Spokes-woman:  
In other terms a Maidenhead-ensurer,  
A Wife, or as it were a Wife-procurer:  
For in old Grecian Writ it manifest is,  
Hero had Orders, and was Venus' Priestess.  
At once she drew, and answered Lovers pleas,  
Between them she made, and carried messages,  
Haggler of cheer entier, and did supply,  
For modest gain, humane necessity;  
But needy folks for nothing would relieve▪  
And still of her own store was free to give.  
She was, I vow and swear, as good a creature  
As ever wore bright Symptom of good nature,  
Loves Cobweb, or his net, or golden fleece,  
As Poets say, who can choose Mistresses,  
And they their meanest Hero will not bed,  
With any thing whose Hair is not Fox-red.  
Her Brows soft Fur was of a paler Dye,  
Conformable to that which prettily  
Peeped on her upper Lip, and cowardly  
Made show of Heroine Virility.  
Day in her large Cow-Eyes was broad awake,  
No heavy sleepy Morn there seemed to break.  
Sir Phoebus given, as you know, to flatter,  
With his own Lustre did her Face bespatter:  
For than Freckles of night on Cheeks not strewed  
To make the White remaining be allowed:  
Her Lips— but stay, was not Pygmalion won  
With a senseless Description of his own?  
Let it suffice then all who are concerned,  
That in her Face 'twas openly discerned  
How near she was to Venus in her place;  
And by her Stature seen her Heavenly Race:  
For she not only straight, but tall as Mast:  
Beauty's whole World in all perfection vast.   

Yearly at Sestus Town for Venus' sake,  
Mother of Wakes, was kept a jolly Wake:  
But Greeks say 'twas a customary Howling  
For her Adonis, or Annual Condoling  
Their Goddesses and Countries active Drudge,  
Who keenly carried on their mortal Grudge  
Against a certain Outlaw, who i'th' Woods  
Reigned Lord, and King, and lived on true men's Goods:  
That reaped and mowed where he did never plow,  
But where he ploughed, none e'er could reap or mow:  
Who Ploughman's Joy did trample under foot,  
And Tyrantlike, let nothing near him sprout.  
But those small faults, such as the Greeks could pardon,  
And composition Carrots out of Garden  
Had given him yearly, would the Churl have spared  
But their meat, drink, and cloth in the Vineyard:  
Yet he would not be weaned; but at their charges  
Basely alone went on carousing Verjuice,  
And was before the pressing of the Liquor,  
Of jolly Grecian Bowls the shrewdest Nicker:  
Whence all the thirsty Greeks grew mad, & swore  
Deeply, they'd drink the rest out in his Gore;  
And strait the bold Associates pitched upon  
A Chief to lead them, or to bid 'em on;  
Who though he had no hair on Chin, or Breast▪  
Had Valour nevertheless most manifest:  
And Mars himself 'tis thought hath oft outdone;  
For it is certain Venus loved none  
Like him of all her Lusty Boys, and Cronies  
Good Bit of flesh, called as I said, Adonis;  
Had gift of Vigilance to boot, no Snorter:  
Must rise betimes that could beat up his Quarter;  
For when Night began to peel, and Day was dawning,  
Up he would get, and leave his Goddess yawning,  
Who waking, turned to th' Wall, and thought t'ave had 'im,  
As other Utensils, where she had laid him;  
But found the eager Huntsman still would leap  
The Fence, not taking notice of the Gap:  
Whence strait in rage she called him curtailed Fellow,  
And then to ease her heart, she cuffed her Pillow.  
So when the Hare is missed where she was squatting,  
Next Bush the mumped Pursuers fall a beating.  
But when she'd paused (quoth she) 'tis Phoebe is chief  
Cause, and Contriver always of my Mischief:  
That long-legged Ramp, that daggle-tailed she-Ranger,  
To well disposed Folks still Dog in Manger:  
She leads the able Youth astray, bewitches  
Them with that early Itch of leaping Ditches;  
And in their warm Bed will not let them tarry,  
Where if they love toil they might be weary,  
And to the prickly Thickets need not roam;  
Till out of breath might beat the Bush at home.  
But let 'em go like Fops, for know stale Maid,  
(With that she sneared) that we have men more stayed,  
And you but spoil our sport to make it better,  
And when my Foe, in truth art but my Setter.  
So fumbling Bards do oft depose a Rhyme,  
But to admit one that will better chime.  
Mean while the Goddess held all these discourses,  
Adonis was a tooting for his forces:  
For note though Huntings said to be in fashion,  
Much like to grinning Honours Recreation;  
In this they disagree, for in the War  
O'th' Woods, the Captain is the Trumpeter,  
And makes the first proof of his scorning Death,  
By being free, and lavish of his Breath.  
So did our Leader, who when he had drawn  
His Band of Green-coats out upon the Lawn,  
By Proverbs sage advise to scape a trip,  
Resolved with them to look ere he did leap;  
Which to wise Warrior's custom is according,  
Who ere they fall to Blows, do fall a Wording;  
By which means those that are in Reason stout,  
The Enemy before they see him, rout.  
And first as they in Story oft did find,  
Sly Ancients did, they made the most o'th' wind:  
Then sent abroad their Scouts, which man still reckons  
In time of War or Peace, his faithful Seconds.  
For when the Shepherd hath a mind to sleep,  
They are the Guard, and Hector's of the Sheep;  
And when it is his pleasure to go murder,  
In that Heroic Virtue none go further;  
So that if I may judge, they have much wrong,  
To be left out of Registering Song.  
But he which makes, not he who ends the quarrel,  
Is known to run away still with the Laurel.  
But to leave off the wont Poetic Pother,  
Small sense with heaps of words t'orelay and smother.  
The Chase, know then in few words, was begun,  
And nimble Rogues had got the start o'th' Sun,  
And to the Forest merrily did trudge  
With Pole on shoulder to leap Ditch, or Hedge,  
Which Pole (some say) had iron Peg at end on't,  
In case that Boar should chance to prove Defendant.  
By Thorn, or Holly Turn-pikes of the Wood  
The doughty Youngsters scorned to be withstood;  
For through the surly Thickets each did rush,  
And manfully then fall upon his Bush:  
So that, alas, throughout the spacious Forest,  
The smallest of her Tenants could have no rest.  
The Hare 〈◊〉 lurking Coney, and the Squirrel,  
Must all have then sat still at their own peril.  
For lazy 〈◊〉 himself began to reckon  
That he 〈◊〉 move if he would save his Bacon;  
And as all Heroes who are truly bred,  
Scorned to be caught by sneaking Death a-bed;  
So took his heels; yet as bold Parthian,  
His teasing Foes still wounding as he ran:  
But finding odds against him, not afraid,  
Yet danger prudently with honour weighed;  
And since not able to resist their force,  
Bravely resolved to beat 'em in a course:  
Or rather (as some guess) he had the cunning  
Of the sly Roman who made a show of running,  
His Foes not to avoid, but separate;  
That singly with 'em he might try his fate.  
For when the Sentinel Adonis popped  
Out of his Hawthorn ambush, straight he stopped;  
And Youth no sooner showed his meaning cruel,  
But Boar tossing his Snout, received the Duel.  
But Fate not half so meek as now adays,  
Contented to take up with bloodless frays,  
Sends folks afield to measure Swords, and Valour,  
And after trial neither found the taller;  
But both lest Fame should lie, do live to tell  
The world that they were both invincible:  
Nor then was Honour bound by Law of Quarter,  
To chouse herself of many a brave Martyr.  
The Boar, as wise folks say, harm watch, harm catch,  
In's own defence, his Huntsman did dispatch:  
Now tender Virgins who are always ready  
To show y'ave bowels, hold yet till I bed ye:  
Hold, hold, I say, a while, if ye are able,  
For Subject to ensue more lamentable.  
The savage Conqueror not satisfied,  
Till's stomach as his vengeance he had clyed,  
And Tartarlike not only to o'erthrow  
Contented, but must dine upon his Foe,  
Alas! first of that chary Morsel carved  
Sacred to Venus, while she for it starved,  
And many others since, by the Confession  
Of Sestian Virgins yearly Lamentation,  
In which poor Hero bore the greatest part,  
And wronging none did take it most to heart;  
And yet her Beauty truckled not to grief,  
For both she was the Representative  
Of Widow Venus, and at once did make  
Stout hearts with Love and Pity both to ache;  
But most the Youngsters of Abydos, who  
Came o'er the water but to see the show;  
The show! fie, let's employ words more in fashion;  
The holy March, or Trapesing, or Procession:  
Much such as now adays when to keep Noses  
From sense of Death, are worn Rosemary Posies.  
But how now fisking Muse, again a straying?  
Let's back to Hero, who as I was saying  
Did lead the dumpish Rout, which 'twas suspicious  
Whether to her, or to the day officious;  
For some 'tis sure scorning the Gods to flatter,  
But cause she went before to Church, went a'ter.  
So if the Gods good Houses have resort,  
Our mortal Goddesses they may thank for't.  
But she minding her grief, or pride to cheer  
Their drooping hearts, refused but with a Lear,  
And but when each the other began to justle,  
And only to come near her made a bustle,  
Turned to 'em, yet with hanging Lip, and Frown,  
T' assure 'em she would not be blown upon.  
So have I— but comparisons are odious,  
Yet tell not me with Rhimes So is commodious;  
So then as Hero I have seen the tasty  
Proud paramour of the Heroic Masty,  
Trot on in haste; and would not deign to mind  
Humble Addresses made to her behind;  
Unless, as with her Betters 'tis the fashion,  
To snub, to snarl at, or snap up a passion.  
So all Love's mystery is jogging on,  
And savage Mistresses must be run down.  
Leander knew't, and therefore did not falter  
In's course, but chased fair Murderess to the Altar,  
Where a la Negligence Dame Venus lolled,  
And Supplicants with smerking looks cajoled.  
But if some meddling Gossip should ask why,  
As every other watchful Deity,  
She in her Temple did not stand upright:  
In t'other posture sure she did delight,  
Above them all; nor was her comely mould  
Of Marbleframed, obdurate still, and cold,  
But willing Wax, whose nature did express  
The complaisant, and gentle Goddesses.  
Nor did she, as all other heavenly fo'ke,  
Put Mortals to the charge of Veil, or Frock,  
Mortals whose blind Zeal so the Gods blaspheme,  
Imputing to their spotless Worship's shame:  
She graciously showed all, so did provoke  
To Adoration the most frozen stock.  
The little Ape her Son with Bow unbent  
(As shock guarding the Toes of Monument)  
Lay at her feet, but not to hold'um, for  
She like herself Compulsion did abhor;   

As on the Chapel walls it oft appeared,  
Which Daw ber without Pencil had besmeared  
With artful scratches, and in smutty scores  
Of Charcoal smutty doings, or Amours  
Of Gods laid open, but in manner ampler,  
Then in Madam Arachne's bawdy Sampler.  
Nay sure they were the Types, Hints, or Instructions  
To Aretine's pathetical Productions,  
The modest Aretine; for none of those  
Was he, whose Art on Nature 〈◊〉 impose:  
Pragmatic saucy slaves who take upon 〈◊〉  
To teach their Dame, they might as well their Grannum;  
And with Mechanic Drapery do hide  
But their own botches, and frank Nature's pride,  
At least unreas'nably from neck do stretch  
White Handkerchief to cover whiter Breech,  
And for the naked Nymphs of their own Locks  
Contrive 'em Aprons, Petticoats, and Smocks:  
But Apron sure not one of them must lack,  
Though the poor Slut hath ne'er a Rag to'r back,  
For they to any thing will run o'th' score,  
Rather than Nymph should Facing want before.  
They'll pluck Love's Wings, and tear his Clout from's eyes,  
Take Satyrs Beard, Fawns Scut, so make't appear  
Like Russians Cap, or Frizlanders Montier;  
Take Monkeys tickling Paw, or Ear of Dazy,  
While four-leged Favourite in Lap is lazy;  
Take shading Branches from the Trees high top:  
But Aretine not so  
He complaisant to Nature, and to Female,  
Alloweth her no Covering, but the Male:  
And precious things of man doth only hide  
In Cabinet which Nature did provide.  
But Virgin who perhaps may long to know  
What Gods o'th' Temple-walls did seem to do,  
Faith I do beg thy pardon, for 'tis certain  
I've been too long in drawing of the Curtain:  
Yet I might hope that patience Feminine  
Would stay the praising of great Aretine.  
First Jove the surly Master of the Fam'ly  
Had left off's Thunder, and there looked so tamely,  
And turned away his feathered Steed, for hark ye,  
His Eagle was not hatched of Tuscan Turkey:  
Therefore he in her stead did then bestride  
A plump young Goldy-lock called Ganymede;  
Which though performed flyly under cloak,  
Made of the thickest of Aetherial smoke,  
He there was found out by his restless Juno,  
(The Jealous have but little sleep, as you know)  
For rage o'th' sight her blew-thin-lip she bit;  
And tore her Smock from Navel down to'r feet;   

So showed her own, and Husbands discontent,  
Which made him leave her, and his high-built Palace,  
To seek him to his heavenly Gusto a Lass.  
And if he had not, he had been to blame,  
To lie still with his Sister was a shame.  
To th' whoring Earth incognito he goes,  
But not as Gallants now with Cloak o'er Nose;  
The habit of a Town-bull there he took,  
Not to bear yoke, but ramping Nymph o'er brook;  
And the all-knowing four-legged Thunderer  
To get upon her, first got under her.  
So Bow must bend (as Cupid makes it out)  
E'er the aimed Arrow does come near the Clout:  
And all but Whore, and Widow Amazon  
By sneaking, and submission still are won.  
In the next place th' immortal Bullock did  
Gore his dear Heifer Io till she bled.  
Then was he seen in shining Coat of Mail  
Of Ginneys, Danae's Fortress to assail;  
Mere Whore who till she was greased in the Fist,  
Was always devilish straight about the Twist.  
Then Leda he appeared to trapan;  
Who taking him but for a Goose or Swan,  
Lay still like Stock;   

Next with Asteria he did seem to struggle,  
And you may swear he made not the spread Eagle.  
But yet in all this sport his Royal Dame  
Was but an envious looker on o'th' Game.  
With her he did not deal a single Bout;  
For Wrangler, or for Wife she was shut out.  
The heavenly Ruffian next as stout he is,  
By naked Venus was brought on his knees:  
Hers, and her Husband's Prisoner, for a Grate  
He made for warlike Bum to look out at.  
O subtlety of thinking Cuckolds Brains,  
Who still blow up themselves with their own trains!  
Vulcan, thou only didst a fault proclaim,  
Of which thou only were't to bear the shame:  
In the next place the Queen of Sluts alone is  
With dainty fine Hobbadehoy Adonis,  
Who for his part much rather would have been  
A setting Springs, laying Snare, or Gin,  
Than lie a Prisoner in a Female Trap,  
Or irksome Pitfal of a Woman's Lap.  
Yet from her for his heart he could not flirt,  
she'd better hold than by the tail of Shirt.  
Apollo then in Shepherd's Calves-skin suit  
(As Frantion) taught a Wench to play o'th' Lute.  
Neptune like Sea-Calf next upon a Bed  
Of Sedges got Aeolian Maidenhead.  
Then nimming Mercury with his sly Art,  
Went the next way to steal a Maiden's heart,  
With Picklock opening Virgin Chest,  
Where still the more is robbed, the less is mistress  
His Wench did seem to sleep, but though Dogsleep,  
Such was his Art, she nought from him could keep.  
Then Saturn whom time almost made a Gelding,  
To get a manly Fole leaped kicking Heiding.  
The Wood-Gods next appeared in Dells and Ditches,  
A clapping of some Ramping Wenches Breeches.  
And here and there a two legged Goat a rutting,  
With little Sluts that thither came a nutting.  
And while in private shades the Nymphs lay snug,  
Kind Satyrs covered them with living Rug.  
And lest they for their scratching Dame should whoop,  
They with their Tongues and Beard their mouths did stop.  
For honour then of white-breeched Patroness,  
The Dauber thought that he could do no less  
Than judgement draw, judgement not to affright  
(Like Angelo's) Spectators, but delight.  
It was that of the upright Phrygian judge,  
To whom three squabbling Goddesses did trudge,  
And by the fair Looks of her Face and Breech,  
Each from his hand the Golden Ball beseech.  
But if in Dauber there be any trust,  
To Venus giving it, he was most just.  
Yet some say she bribed him, as he did her,  
And gave the Ball for, Wench that made great stir;  
For Pimp as well as Lawyer doth deserve his  
Reward before that he hath done his Service;  
Since he's a Pleader too, and doth discover  
The miserable case of Plaintiff Lover,  
And seldom 'tis but does obtain Relief.  
But what before was I a saying? if  
That Venus' Competitors were such  
As Painter made 'em, no true man would grudge  
Her sure the sentence; and to bring't to trial  
Before plaindealing Swain, yet youthful Spy-all  
Offore-sight Juno sage had not a whit,  
And Pallas, though a snotty Nose, no Wit.  
What though Dame Juno there appeared so proper,  
That not a Car-man in the World could top her:  
And Dauber gorgeously her head had dressed;  
For her dear Peacock's Rump paid for her Crest;  
And had bestowed on her the kill mien  
Of Drunkard's Eye, Purse-mouth, and bridled Chin  
Made up; but kindness more than that came to  
She had, he made her stand crosslegged, that so  
What 'twas a shame to see might lurk behind;  
That which is out of sight is out of mind.  
And sure the heavenly What-d'y'-calt's dimension  
Could not be spanned by mortal comprehension.  
For there was left apparent competency  
For the most hungry Youngsters, who do fancy  
Of that good thing they ne'er can have enough,  
Until they are condemned unto the proof.  
But married men, ye greedy dogs can tell ye,  
Your Eyes are always bigger than your Belly.  
What though Dame Pallas too was tricked up in  
A French Hood not of Velvet, but of Tin;  
So Trulla have I seen in Coif of Mettle,  
To ease her dear Lords shoulder of a Kettle;  
But such as our bright Amazons now wear,  
When to Hyde-park they ride to make fokes stare,  
O Wits, was your Aunt Pallas' Montier!  
By whose reflection as a face divine  
In flaunting Coyf of Glory hers did shine.  
With mien was furnished too by Dauber partial,  
Keen as her Thought, and as her Head-piece Martial.  
Her Mouth the Mansion of her Charms, or Shop  
Of Eloquence he kindly had set open,  
To show she was a Wit; but sure moreover  
The vastness of its Treasure to discover.  
For not like common Baggage, or mean Girl,  
Were her Gums set with beggarly seed Pearl:  
But such each was as you might see, when State  
Bids the great Spanish Monarch cock his Hat;  
Or else in Chamber of Escurial most rich,  
Is hung as in spruce Parlour Egg of Ostrich.  
And (as for Juno's) to keep Judge from loathing,  
For her Obscenity he found a clothing,  
Causing a Flap, or Apron natural   

Half way down to her knees to fall.  
But do the Artist what he could, a Blouze  
She was, and Juno too to Vulcan's Spouse,  
Who though with Mars had newly had a Ruffle,  
And black and blue eyes had got in the Scuffle,  
Was tumbled, jumbled, toused, and moused, and wurryed,  
And so disturbed the Pigs-tails on her Forehead;  
The native Coral of her Lip too missing,  
By boisterous sharpset Hector's cruel kissing:  
But not as some may doubt were the fair Cherries  
By smutty Cuckolds Chaps turned to Mulberries:  
Yet howsoever her Graces were impaired,  
The Judge for's heart could not defer's award,  
But straight his Conscience in his Face up-stared.  
And while the wonder of her Form he kenned,  
All that he had about him stood an end,  
The sole unfeigned way Lass to commend.  
Of Hero's such Leander's commendation,  
Who made (while she to th'Gods) to her Oration.  
But hold a stroke, you nimble Slut; for sure  
We skip the Chapels choicest Furniture,  
Which for the sake of Sex inquisitive,  
For tail of our Description I'll retrieve;  
Though you would let it, to save pains, escape us.  
The Romans had a God well-known Priapus:  
The Greeks too had the like, for Heathen none  
So blind, but his Almightiship would own.  
And Romans now who their old Gods reject,  
Have seriously for him a great respect.   

The mighty, and yet humble God did dwell  
There to his mind in dark, and narrow Cell:  
But could not hide himself; for pale-faced Rout  
Of Virgin Penitents soon found him out:  
And Mother, and the Son lay both unheeded,  
While they invoked him whose aid they needed,  
And not the common way did they adore him;  
But as they should, lay prostrated before him.  
The little piss-tail Girls made long Oration  
To's Worship, to be freed from Chalks temptation  
The ugly stale despairing Maids petition  
But in a Dream for's heavenly apparition.  
New married Dames did only laud his Name,  
And seemed his Bounty to receive with shame.  
But the starved Widows were importunate,  
As Spanish Beggars who do scorn to wait;  
And ask as if they would not be denied,  
And yet so as they cannot be supplied.  
Amongst those Cravers Hero was not hindmost,  
As Swabbers Son observed, who her did mind most▪  
And while all show the Gods their Whites of eyes,  
In Hero's bright ones he his Heaven spies.  
Yet Hero's so on Heaven were not bend,  
But they on leering Lover eke did squint,  
And through the corner of their Lids did wander  
Some of their keenest Rays upon Leander;  
So Gods and him at once brought to her beck,  
And raised his hope, yet did his Courage check.  
For like a bashful Spaniel straight he stole  
With modest joy his Nose into his Pole,  
His tail between his Legs, yet slided to her,  
And had the Heart, though not the Face, to woo her  
In words like these; I must fu-forsooth own  
I am a harmless poor Youth of our Town,  
Who but to see fine sights this morning came here,  
And not to learn of little Love to stammer;  
Who tongue, as well as Heart, from me hath ta'en,  
So that I can't, if that I would, complain;  
Yet something I would say if that I durst,  
But I would have these jeering Fokes gone first.  
Scarce had he whispered that, but Congregation  
Quite weary of their deaf God's Conversation,  
Rose up, and ending their unanswered Speeches,  
To their Discourteous Worships turned their Breeches.  
But when he saw that they indeed were gone,  
And had left him with Hero all alone,  
(As if it had been for the nonce) he fain  
Would have invited them all back again;  
And with a new wish did recant his former;  
For though his Rival's gone, he durst not storm her.  
And she (thinking no harm, as one would say)  
Did even for it then behind them stay.  
For Women when they dare to keep the Field,  
Would have you know they do not fear to yield.  
While dumb Leander looked down on his Toes,  
And numbered the Pinks upon his Shoes,  
She did survey his Leg, the shape and fashion  
Of the whole Youth with silent commendation.  
For modest Maid I hope may leer and peer  
On all man hath, if he, or none else see her.  
And if by fear a Lover's voice be froze,  
May break the Ice, and prisoner Tongue let loose.  
Hero therefore (that knew the world) took on her  
For slouching Lad the wooing in brisk manner;  
And roundly said, Feat Youth, for want of speaking,  
D'y ' think that I will suffer a heart-breaking?  
When Men are become Women, Women than  
May without shame (I take it) become Men.  
But Custom's crueler than Love, to gag us:  
For Silence more than Love before doth plague us.  
Why must nice Slut be dumb, though racked, nay pressed,  
When it is impudence not to confess't?  
Alas when I'm on fire, I must cry out   

Can Female-hold keep Loves Wildfire withindore?  
If we do shut the Door, 'twill out at Window.  
We are but Paper Lanterns to his Torch,  
Whose Wafer-sides he instantly will scorch,  
And never leave till through a way he find,  
To blaze out lavishly before the Wind.  
So to hold Love, for Maids as hard a matter,  
As when they're tickled, 'tis to hold their water.  
But why prey should it trouble Lovers Brains  
If his kind well-bred Mistress save him pains?  
Though proffered Service stinks, you'll say; my mind is  
To give before one's asked, endears a Kindness,  
But for it wilful men I know do slight one,  
And all but shy, and sullen Sluts set light on.  
But Men in Love more savage, rude, and stupid  
Than Brutes, and more do shame their Tutor Cüpid:  
And four-legged Dame may without Vanity  
Vye with our Lords, their Lords humanity.  
And we must own the Bear, Boar, Ass appear  
Indeed to have more of the Cavalier.  
When th'Asses solitary Miss doth bray  
For want of him, he does not farther stray,  
Nor stop his ears, her voice he thinks melodious,  
Nor is she for her Summons to him odious:  
Nay when Whip can't, by her is wrought upon  
To leave his Spanish Gravity, and run.  
And for their Wench will fight brave Bear and Boar,  
After enjoyment, as well as before.  
Nor will their noble Spirits let a Mistress,  
While they do live, be brought to want, or distress.  
But may be they so good are and observing,  
Because their Dames are more than us deserving.  
And to speak truth, I do believe those Ladies  
Are something constanter than we now adays;  
More generous by far, and bravely scorn  
To take half Crown, or Guinney for good turn.  
Their wit too, and discretion ours outdoes;  
Lovers they run not from, but lead by th' Nose,  
But such as ne'er put finger in the eye,  
Like ours, who snivel, sob, and sigh, and cry,  
For what but they themselves themselves deny.  
When Love by shoulder look their Dames do crave,  
They stare not on 'em, and ask what they'd have.  
And happy Dames, they never were put to't yet  
To speak as I am now, or go without it.  
Then to Leander she made but one stride,  
To peer in's Face, which his coy Hands denied,  
But to withdraw 'em, when in vain she asked him,  
She like a Bully swore, and then unmasked him  
By force of Arms, since she could not entreat him,  
And vowed she could find of her heart to beat him.  
Then poor Leander gave himself for gone,  
And thought his Breeches were already down:  
And of remorse in her he quite despairing,  
Took heart, and spoke out thus, in her own hearing;  
Are you the same that looked but now forsooth  
As if Butter would not melt in your mouth?  
She that just now refused to bait the passion  
Of gaping Lovers with the least temptation?  
She that did make green Apron fall so low  
One might have seen that same assoon as Toe?  
And rather than she would take up her Coat,  
She with a shameless daggle-tail did troth,  
To keep her Followers from sight-provoking  
Of Blue, of Russet, or of yellow-Stocking?  
And while she followed was with humble praying,  
She ne'er looked back, but gave them all their saying.  
She could not speak, at least that one could hear her,  
And is she grown o'th' sudden such a Tearer?  
Hero mean while was not abashed a whit;  
But rather glad he Venom had to spit:  
I mean, that of his Tongue he was so able,  
To which she suddenly was responsible:  
And with a shrug, a mouth, and cogging smile,  
Such as of wrath a Cuckold would beguile,  
She said, What will you be a new way jealous,  
And 'cause I am not kind to other Fellows,  
Naughty Leander, think that I can be  
But from Teeth outward other ways to thee?  
And 'cause for you their Suits I do reject,  
Will you inconscionable mine neglect?  
The Turtle might as well repudiate  
His Female, 'cause with him she'll only mate,  
And scorns the common Flocks communication;  
But groans out to him (all day) her chaste passion,  
And 'cause with neck thrust out shows she is willing,  
As well might he (I say) refrain from Billing;  
As you, because you see that I am coming,  
Refrain the most delicious sport of Bumming;  
And (as 'tis falsely said of us) to spite  
Others, will not yourself, loved self delight?  
Be't so, I with your hardship am content,  
But you for me shall not yourself torment:  
For in spite of your teeth you shall consent,  
To take on me your full divertisement.  
So took him 'bout the neck, and was so quick,  
Leander had not time to turn his Cheek.  
But scarce could Five be told, when with his Fist,  
Placed in the Pit-hole of her Lovesick Breast,  
Her tender Breech he had laid on the ground,  
Had not kind Hassock in its way been found,  
Which raised up lower end so fav'rably,  
That something there Leander did espy,  
That called back to his heart Humanity:  
And then taking her up by painful haling,  
Did expiate his laying her a sprawling.  
And mannerly with Leg drawn back did own  
His heinous fault in throwing of her down;  
But she good-natured Maid, said it was none:  
And asked him pardon if she'd done him wrong.  
Alas, said he, good Hero, if your Tongue  
You had kept to yourself but when you kissed,  
I likewise to myself had kept my Fist.  
Catso, quoth Hero, was that all the Matter?  
Indeed you shan't find fault with that herea'ter,  
But try me once again: he cried Come ' an.  
But from her Sluts Trick she could not refrain:  
Whereat Leander once more did look big,  
And sputt'ring called her Impudent Tom-Rigg:  
While she with Curtsy said, no one exact is  
In any thing at first; but let me practise  
On you a while, and whip me, if I'm missing  
A Tittle in your Method nice of kissing;  
But sweet Leander, do not turn away  
A faithful willing Servant the first day.  
As Courts do say, Assurance innocent  
I have, but not as you said, Impudent:  
I have no harm in me, although I'm frolic,  
Which most men (as my Mother tells me) do like.  
Therefore but for your satisfaction,  
And but to you have now good humour shown.  
For as you did observe yourself, I'm rugged  
To other solkes, ill-natured, cross, and dogged:  
But would endeavour to please you alone,  
'Cause besides you I pleased am with none.  
With that she pumped some tears into her eyes,  
Which into his did pump up some likewise.  
For tears do tears beget, and 'tis a true thing,  
The Lovers falling out is Loves renewing.  
But while he sobbed, Hero had prudent thought  
Of striking of the Iron while 'twas hot.  
Therefore took out cracked Groat from Purse of Leather,  
To witness they would thenceforth lie together,  
And asked him if he'd deign to break it with her.  
He cheerfully did lend her all his force;  
So they to join themselves cracked Groat divorce.  
Now Lover mark you well from Custom antique  
I mean thou silly Rogue that art so frantic  
To bustle for a Mistress, sigh, and sob,  
When thou hast not a Penny in thy Fob:  
For all your pains is lost when you have wooed her,  
If Money you have not your hearts to so'der.  
For now not one like Hero will disburse  
On Love a grey Groat out of her own Purse.  
Nay they'll not trust on tick a pair of Kisses,  
Nor can you trade with Rhimes, or fine promises.  
But Hero was a Lady of a thousand,  
Who by herself of her own heart was cozened:  
For sure Leander knew no Politics,  
No Lime-twig words, or subtle sly Dog-tricks  
To chase, to circumvent her, or to catch'er;  
Or where she itched did know, or where to scratch her;  
For she was forced, although 'twas not the fashion,  
To put him first in mind of consummation;  
And told him that about Twelve of the Clock  
She would expect him with clean Sheets & Smock,  
At her own Mother's House, at sign of Tower:  
But warned him he should knock at the Backdoor;  
And that her old Nurse should sit up, and spin,  
To drown the noise he'd make, and let him in.  
In the mean time to th' Maypole, and the Green  
She bid him go to see, and to be seen,  
Or where he would might saunter up and down,  
And count the Signs, and fine things of the Town:  
Or to the Shore might go, if nothing else  
He had to do, and pick up pretty Shells.  
But howsoe'er himself he chose to recreate,  
He should be sure to keep her Honours Secret.  
There are, quoth she, who kill a woman's honour,  
Rather than lose their Glory to have won her.  
But were there Justice, sure they should have reason  
By Halter done, to their pernicious treason.  
For plaguy, and unspeakable's the wrong  
To the whole world by those Blabs of their tongue  
Many an Innocent on both sides mourn,  
Look pale, and pine away, in Fevers burn,  
And can't trust, nor be trusted for good turn,  
But he who is of Female good name chary,  
With the whole Sex sure as it were may marry.  
Be warned Leander then; for I defy  
Till now the world to say that black's my Eye,  
And none could touch my Reputation  
Till now with man I've been two hours alone;  
Which lest that it should come to be Town-talk,  
Prithee my sweet Leander, let us walk.  
Why don't you wag, my Heart, why do you stay?  
Quoth he, d'y ' think that I'll lead you the way?  
Sure, sure, Fair Hero, I'll not go before ye:  
Pish, pish, quoth she, again that's such a Story,  
I am the Priestess, and must shut the door;  
Leave Fooling prithee, and go on before.  
Only remember that you keep your hour;  
And when 'tis dark, find out your way to th' tower.  
Then rather than be troublesome, he chose  
To do as he was bid, and follow's Nose:  
And to the Woods (as Lovers use) did ramble.  
Mean while his Mistress to the Town did amble.  
But 'twixt true Lovers (you'll say 'tis a wonder)  
There's no absence though ne'er so much asunder.  
For busy mind can find out no evasion,  
Sweet Miss will hang upon imagination.  
Though Hero and her Dear went quite contrary,  
Yet in his heart and mind she still did tarry;  
Or else ('tis thought) ere Twelve he had been weary;  
Though he had all the pretty Recreations,  
With which Lovers do hush their whewling passions.  
As he stalked on sometimes he fell a Quaiting  
Round Tiles to be unmindful of his Waiting.  
And as he reeled along the green Hedge-Rows,  
He rummaged them for Blackberries and Sloes.  
Or then on Molehill squatted, with a Key,  
Did whistle out a cheering Roundeley,  
Till Emmet put him out to make him scratch  
Impatient Buttock, where she made it itch:  
Or by cool Spring lay down on Bed of Daisies,  
And on her Crystal Surface made Love-faces,  
Or in her murmuring soft conversation  
Did weep, and murmur too to cool his Passion:  
With Philomela, or Pie, or Daw did prate,  
And sometime too with Gossip Echo chat:  
Or with the Tag of Codpiece Point on Bark  
Of Trees did scratch and scribble Hero's Mark▪  
Or did unravel all her Sacred Name,  
To knit it up again in Anagram.  
And sometime in tied Rhyme as much belied her,  
As if the Rogue ne'er in his Life had spied her;  
For sure Leander was a Burlesque Poet,  
Though till in Love (like me) he did not know it.  
In such like exercise he whiled away  
The fant'ring minutes of the tedious day:  
But when night came, to keep off Spirit or Else,  
He talked, and sung, and whistled to himself.  
But in the Woods no longer then would tarry,  
Lest that his Breech should feel the Nails of Fairy.  
He therefore back to Sestus Town did creep,  
And while Folkes were a-bed, and all asleep,  
(As oft his Betters) on a Bulk, or Bench,  
Three or four hours had patience for his Wench.  
But ere the drawling Clock knocked out thrice four  
He was a knocking at backdoor of Tower,  
But first (some say) he had a special care  
To make the most of his long yellow hair,  
And with his Comb, and Fingers made it stare  
Methodically, and look killing big,  
For he grand Virtuoso was in Wig.  
Besides he put his willing Hat in mind  
Of cocking up before, and eke behind:  
And then with single Knuckle; and no more,  
Informed the watchful Nurse he was at door,  
By whom ('tis said) he was not long unheard;  
As Hero knew she was a trusty Card.  
For on Love-Errands oft she made her trudge,  
Indeed, she was an honest careful Drudge,  
Loves painful Char-woman, and ever did  
Help on all Bawdy work in time of need.  
When she had let Leander in, she made him  
Pull off his Shoes ere she to Hero led him:  
For by the door of Hero's Mother's Chamber  
To Hero's Garret he was bound to clamber.  
Besides she knew Love is inhansed by fear;  
So stolen Bread and Cheese is mighty Cheer.  
But though Leander went as if on Eggs,  
Yet he so loftily did bear his Legs,  
That of four or five steps, he made but one,  
And lingering Hero was no more alone,  
Nor unprepared for his Reception.  
Her Garret was new swept, and she well dressed  
For exercise in Just-au-Corps or Vest,  
As those who can't endure to be straitlaced;  
Or may be in a Petticoat, and Waistcoat,  
In Bawdy Indian Gown, or Bawds long last-coat,  
In Cloak of Ermine, or a Tyrian Mantle;  
But for my part, what she had on, I can't tell;  
For some are not ashamed to say a Blanket;  
But two joyn'd-stools were covered with a Banquet,  
Which made her Dear Leander not much matter  
How she was dressed, 'twas that made his mouth water:  
She saw't, and therefore let her Passion wait,  
Till hungry Lover had ta'en out his Bait.  
So straight, to lose no time, did pull him down  
Into a Chair with Arms, and cried, Fall on,  
If you can like of any thing that's here.  
He vowed it was most excellent good Cheer,  
But he did praise it better by his Swallow,  
And there was nought that was not a Regallo.  
Botargo first, and a Red Herring, for  
She still had her pet it morceau aboire.  
But for Leander's curious maiden Chaps  
There were provided dainty fine Flip-flaps,  
Apple-pie, Custard, Florentine, and Cheesecake,  
And only as I said before, for his sake,  
Gingerbread, and stewed Prunes of her own stewing,  
And for his Drink, Stypone of her Brewing;  
To which, Hero, and he were both beholden,  
For modest Lover it did soon embolden,  
To take her by the sweaty hand, and sip  
Far stronger Nectar from her Blabber-Lip.  
And when she had made him drink off his rest,  
He could begin a Brimmer to the Best.  
But subtle Hero in her over-tunning  
Of empty Lover, was but overcunning.  
For quite contrary to her wise intent,  
All she turned up in him had a false Vent.  
Indeed she made him ready for the Bed,  
And had the Drunkard's sport to hold his head,  
But she unfortunate, meant something else,  
And ere she was aware, o'erturned the Bells;  
So oflewd expectation quite did miss,  
As now chaste Reader doth I'm sure, of his.  
But be not angry, ere Cock-crowing season,  
To you, and Hero too I'll see done reason.  
But let her put Leander first to Bed,  
And on Flock-Pillow rest Lop-heavy Head;  
Then fit it with a Coifin stead of Cap,  
Tuck up the clothes in order to his Nap,  
And then let her a while but pick her Toes,  
And Lamp goes out, and into Bed she goes.  
Then (as I told you) ere the Cock crowed thrice  
And Hero had pissed once, Leander twice,  
(But forward Sir, pray do not now mistake)  
Did yawn, and stretch, and civilly awake  
At the first Summons of her Elbow, which  
On purpose lent his side a plaguy stitch.  
Then did he puff, and belch, and sigh, and groan,  
And to the Gods make lamentable moan:  
But Hero for her sake took pity on him,  
Did stroke him, feel his Pulses, and bemoan him,  
And charitably too his Stomach settle,  
By help of Life-restoring Pewter Bottle:  
So by her Aid, Directions, and Dalliance,  
As well's he could he made out's new Alliance.  
But spiteful Jade Aurora strait intruding,  
There was an end then of the Secret Wedding:  
And glad Leander in such haste arose,  
That out of Bed he tumbled on his Nose;  
And for his own Stockings put on Hero's:  
Fate's still contriving Lovers to disclose.  
Nor stayed to wash his stinking hands, or put on  
His Azure Band, or Shamey Doublet button:  
But with a Kiss took leave of his dear Bride,  
Resolving for her not to lose his Tide;  
For from the Shore was heard thrice, Eastward haul  
And with his Towns-folkes he was mad to go:  
So lost no time; but while he was let out,  
To the old Nurse made this true Lovers doubt,  
That Hero would procure herself some Monsieur,  
Who many a good time and oft would bounce her  
Ere he should get o'th' tother side ' o'th' water.  
To which she said Fie, Fie man, no such matter.  
Though heavy Judgements fall upon ye, you men  
Will never leave your base thoughts of poor Women.  
But time will come (and she or none could tell,  
For she in Magic Art had devilish skill,  
And on a Col-staff oft had galled her Breech,  
Was tried, and got off'cause she was a Witch)  
When all men shall for something be afraid,  
And for your Jealoufie be sound paid.  
When Love incensed, won't tyrannize alone  
In Lover's heart (as now he doth) but bone:  
When Lover for his Miss obtained shall groan,  
And through a single Nostril tune his moan:  
And jealous man shall envy happy Brute,  
Who without fear, or shame does go to Rut.  
To this Leander nothing could reply,  
For Prophecies must give themselves the Lie.  
But Pox upon her soul for her Record,  
All the World knows she was as good's her word.  
She would have farther spun the Pocky Riddle,  
But Youth in haste did break't off in the middle,  
And left her, and Town Sestus till dark night,  
When he was to return by Candle-light;  
The same that was as Sea-light in that Entry  
Where marking Hero in the Bar sat Sentry;  
As he, and Hero had contrived, was his  
To keep him in his way where no path is.  
And by her means he did not run aground,  
But in the right Port whither he was bound  
Unladed safe, and sound his precious Stowage,  
And made (as Folks do say) a happy Voyage,  
Nay some (at least) say half a dozen, but  
Dame Fortune first, or last, doth prove a Slut.  
She did contest with the more faithless wind,  
Which should be more false to him, or unkind,  
For in the Window of vexed Hero's Garret  
Five or six long Watch-lights in vain did blare out,  
Ere he could put to Sea; and when he did,  
It had been better he at home had stayed.  
But though the huffing surly Winds did nose him,  
And strutting Billows crowded to oppose him,  
From's Mistress he no longer would be kept,  
But like a drunken Hero headlong leapt  
Amidst his Foes, resolving to come at her,  
Though Seas on Seas were set, and hills of Water  
On watery hills to intercept his course;  
But Death old-fashioned Lovers can't divorce.  
As Reader (if you've any patience) you  
Too soon, too soon, alas, alas! shall know:  
But Gossip first I know you would be prying  
Into the manner of our Lovers dying:  
Leander would not give his head for th' washing  
You may be sure, nor was afraid of Dashing:  
He cuffed the Waves aside, and through did break  
His way, in spite of Northern Blubber-Cheek;  
Mean while ('tis said) they made e'en nothing of him,  
And while he puffed, and sputtred, did but scoff him.  
And as in Blanket you would toss a Whelp,  
Tossed him, while he no more himself could help.  
And though he sprawled, and kept on going still,  
It was, as one may say, e'en but up hill.  
So to his Oars of Flesh such cheering words,  
Was fain to use, as Errants to their Swords;  
And told them, if they would row stoutly on,  
They should embrace his naked Miss anon.  
But finding soon that Harangue proved but idle,  
He turned his Style, the wind and waves to whedle:  
And vowed if they would please but to reprieve him  
From drowning till he came back, he'd forgive 'um.  
But Fate whose slaves they were, could not be choosed,  
For all his Vows he still was sound doused:  
Yet sneering Fate but to augment her sport,  
Permitted him almost to touch his Port.  
So Tyrant Puss of Mouse does make a Fool,  
And let's him get again half into's hole.  
But then Leander's time was come, when Lamp  
Went out, or when his left Leg had the Cramp.  
For he so much in Love was you may see,  
He quite forgot a String about his Knee,  
Hero mean while who in her Bed had tossed  
As much as he at Sea had, or almost.  
For she had dreamed of Flowers all the night,  
Shrewd sign that some body is to turn Spirit.  
So weary of her Dreams, awaked and rose;  
But some say she awaked ta'en by the Nose  
With the rude Haut-Goust of deceased Lamp,  
Which Omen seized her heart with panic Damp  
For her Sweetheart, but ah! when she did hear  
The Winds and Sea so loud, she was past fear,  
And by her croaking bowels than could tell  
(Were he at Sea) all with him was not well,  
So grown impatient, to the Window flew,  
And from her Eyelids proking off the Glue,  
Into the boiling water fell a staring,  
Where she perceived her dear Duck dead as herring.  
But Day but just had shown her Scarlet Snout,  
So she had time for comfortable doubt,  
And took her poor Leander for a Whale;  
But prying to find out the proof of's Tail,  
She out of Window thrust herself so far,  
That Tiptoes slipped, and ere she was awar  
(Some do dispute it though) she tipped clean over  
Into the Brine upon her pickled Lover.  
Now hasty Lover do not damn the River,  
Which though a while true Lovers it did sever,  
Yet did unite 'em afterward for ever.  
And let none take my tristful Song to heart,  
Or for drowned Lovers be concerned a Fart;  
For they but dived directly to Elysium,  
Where such Folks pass their time as you could wish 'um.   
FINIS.