POOR antiquated slut, forbear, Thy importunity's so strong, It will, I fear, corrupt the air, And do an universal wrong. Be modest, or I swear and vow, I neither can nor will be kind; Pox on't! now thou dost clam'rous grow, There's no enduring in the wind. Whilst silence did thy thoughts betray, I only was the sufferer; But now thy lungs begin to play All the whole province suffers here. Faith, AElia, if thou be'st so hot, That nor satiety, nor age, Can cool the over-boiling pot, Nor thy ebullient lust assuage, Yet be so charitably kind, Though damn'd thou art resolved to be, As not to poison all mankind By fulsome importunity. But sure 'tis time we should give o'er, And if I mourn my time misspent, How much for fifty years of whore Ought'st thou, poor AElia, to repent? Yet, if in spite of all advice Thou needs wilt importune me still, I am not so reclaim'd from vice, But I can satisfy thy will: And 'twill to my advantage be; For should I new amours begin, Delight might damn me, when with thee The penance expiates the sin. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: HOME TO FARGO by KAREN SWENSON THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER CHANNING by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT CHRIST TO HIS SPOUSE by WILLIAM BALDWIN AN UNANSWERABLE APOLOGY FOR THE RICH by MARY BARBER CLOUD-CLIMBING by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |