Ananylis of a Beautiful Young Nymph

“A Beautiful Young Nymph”

GOING TO BED.

WRITTEN FOR THE HONOUR OF THE FAIR SEX.

1731

Corinna, pride of Drury-Lane,

For whom no shepherd sighs in vain;

Never did Covent-Garden boast

So bright a batter'd strolling toast!

No drunken rake to pick her up,

No cellar where on tick to sup;

Returning at the midnight hour,

Four stories climbing to her bower;

Then, seated on a three-legg'd chair,

Takes off her artificial hair;

Now picking out a crystal eye,

She wipes it clean, and lays it by.

Her eyebrows from a mouse's hide

Stuck on with art on either side,

Pulls off with care, and first displays 'em,

Then in a play-book smoothly lays 'em.

Now dext'rously her plumpers draws,

That serve to fill her hollow jaws,

Untwists a wire, and from her gums

A set of teeth completely comes;

Pulls out the rags contrived to prop

Her flabby dugs, and down they drop.

Proceeding on, the lovely goddess

Unlaces next her steel-ribb'd bodice,

Which, by the operator's skill,

Press down the lumps, the hollows fill.

Up goes her hand, and off she slips

The bolsters that supply her hips;

With gentlest touch she next explores

Her chancres, issues, running sores;

Effects of many a sad disaster,

And then to each applies a plaster:

But must, before she goes to bed,

Rub off the daubs of white and red,

And smooth the furrows in her front

With greasy paper stuck upon't.

She takes a bolus ere she sleeps;

And then between two blankets creeps.

With pains of love tormented lies;

Or, if she chance to close her eyes,

Of Bridewell[1] and the Compter[1] dreams,

And feels the lash, and faintly screams;

Or, by a faithless bully drawn,

At some hedge-tavern lies in pawn;

Or to Jamaica[2] seems transported

Alone, and by no planter courted;

Or, near Fleet-ditch's[3] oozy brinks,

Surrounded with a hundred stinks,

Belated, seems on watch to lie,

And snap some cully passing by;

Or, struck with fear, her fancy runs

On watchmen, constables, and duns,

From whom...