Sidor som bilder
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To bis mistress, whose busband is invited to a feast

with them. The poet instructs her bow to behave herself in his company.

1

YOUR

And am poor

UR

husband will be with us at the treat; May that be the last supper he shall eat.

I a guest invited there,
Only to fee, while he may touch the fair ?
To fee
you

kiss and hug your nauseous lord,
While his leud hand descends below the board?
Now wonder not that Hippodamia's charms,
At such a fight, the Centaurs urg'd to arms;
That in a rage they threw their
Affail'd the bridegroom, and would force the bride.
I am not half a horse, (I would I were)
Yet hardly can from you my hand

hands forbear.
Take then my counsel ; which, observ'd, may be
Of some importance both to you and me.
Be fure to come before your man be there;
There's nothing can be done; but come howe'er.

cups aside,

Sit next him (that belongs to decency)
But tread upon my foot in passing by.
Read in my looks what silently they speak,
And Nily, with your eyes, your answer make:
My lifted eye-brow shall declare my pain ;
My right-hand to his fellow shall complain;
And on the back a letter shall design;
Besides a note that shall be writ in wine.
Whene'er you

think

upon our last embrace, With your fore-finger gently touch

your

face. If any

word of mine offend my dear, Pull, with your hand, the velvet of your ear. If

you are pleas’d with what I do or say, Handle your rings, or with your fingers play. As fuppliants use at altars, hold the board, Whene'er you with the devil may

lord, When he fills for you, never touch the cup, But bid th' officious cuckold drink it

up. The waiter on those services employ: Drink you, and I will snatch it from the boy ; Watching the part

where

your sweet mouth hath been, And thence with eager lips will suck it in. If he, with clownish manners, thinks it fit To taste, and offer you the nafty bit,

take your

Reject his greasy kindness, and restore
Th’unfav'ry morsel he had chew'd before.
Nor let his arms embrace your neck, nor rest
Your tender cheek upon his hairy breast.
Let not his hand within

your

bosom stray,
And rudely with your pretty bubbies play.
But above all, let him no kiss receive;
That's an offence I never can forgive.
Do not, O do not that sweet mouth resign,
Left I rise up in arms, and cry,

'tis mine.
I shall thrust in betwixt, and void of fear
The manifest adult'rer will appear.
These things are plain to fight; but more I

doubt What

you
conceal beneath

your petticoat. Take not his leg between your tender thighs, Nor, with

your hand, provoke my foe to rise. How many love-inventions I deplore, Which I myself have practis'd all before? How oft have I been forc'd the robe to lift In company; to make a homely Nift For a bare bout, ill huddled o’er in haste, While o'er my side the fair her mantle cast. You to your husband shall not be so kind; But, lest you should, your mantle leave behind.

Encourage him to tope; but kiss him not,
Nor mix one drop of water in his pot.
If he be fuddled well, and snores apace,
Then we may take advice from time and place.
When all depart, when compliments are loud,
Be sure to mix among the thickest crowd:
There I will be, and there we cannot miss,
Perhaps to grubble, or at least to kiss.
Alas! what length of labour I employ,
Just to secure a short and transient joy!
For night must part us; and when night is come,
Tuck'd underneath his arm he leads

you

home.
He locks you in ; I follow to the door,
His fortune envy, and my own deplore.
He kisses you, he more than kisses too;
Th' outrageous cuckold thinks it all his due.
But add not to his joy by your consent,
And let it not be given, but only lent.
Return no kiss, nor move in any fort;
Make it a dull and a malignant fport.
Had I my wish, he should no pleasure take,
But lubber o'er

your
business for

my

fake. And whate'er fortune shall this night befal, Coax me to-morrow, by forswearing all.

FROM

O V I D’s A MOUR S.

BOOK II. ELEG. 19.

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F for thyself thou wilt not watch thy whore,

Watch her for me, that I may love her more.
What comes with ease we nauseously receive,
Who, but a lot, would scorn to love with leave?
With hopes and fears my flames are blown up

higher ?
Make me despair, and then I can desire.
Give me a jilt to teaze my jealous mind;
Deceits are virtues in the female kind.
Corinna

my

fantastic humor knew, Play'd trick for trick, and kept herself ftill new : She, that next night I might the sharper come, Fell out with me, and sent me fasting home ; Or some pretence to lie alone would take ; Whene'er she pleas’d, her head, and teeth would

ake : 'Till having won me to the highest strain, She took occasion to be sweet again. With what a gust, ye gods, we then iinbrac'd ! How ev'ry kiss was dearer than the last !

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