I've had to-day a Dozen @3Billet-Doux@1 From @3Fops@1, and @3Wits@1, and @3Cits@1, and @3Bowstreet Beaux:@1 Some from @3Whitehal@1, but from the @3Temple@1 more: A @3Covent-Garden@1 Porter brought me four. I have not yet read all: But, without feigning, We @3Maids@1 can make shrewd Ghesses at your Meaning. What if, to shew your Styles, I read 'em here? Me thinks I hear one cry, @3Oh Lord, forbear: No, Madam, no; by Heav'n, that's too severe.@1 Well then, be safe -- But swear henceforwards to renounce all Writing, And take this Solemn Oath of my inditing, -- @3As you love Ease and hate Campaigns and Fighting.@1 Yet, Faith, 'tis just to make some few Examples: What if I shew'd you one or two for Samples? @3Pulls one out.@1] Heres, one desires my Ladyship to meet At the kind Couch above in @3Bridges-Street@1. Oh Sharping Knave! That wou'd have you know what, For a Poor Sneaking Treat of @3Chocolat@1. @3Pulls out another.@1] Now, in the Name of Luck, I'll break this open, 20 Because I Dreamt last Night I had a Token; The Superscription is exceeding pretty, @3To the Desire of all the Town and City.@1 Now, @3Gallants@1, you must know, this precious @3Fop@1 Is Foreman of a Haberdashers-Shop: One who devoutly cheats, demure in Carriage, And courts me to the Holy Bands of Marriage; But, with a @3Civil Inuendo@1 too, My Overplus of Love shall be for you. @3Reads.@1] @3Madam, I swear your Looks are so Divine, When I set up, your Face shall be my Sign; Tho Times are hard -- to show how I Adore you, Here's my whole Heart, and half a Guinea for you. But, have a Care of@1 Beaux; @3They're false, my Honey; And, which is worse, have not one Rag of Money.@1 See how Maliciously the Rogue would wrong ye! But I know better Things of some among ye. My wisest way will be to keep the Stage, And trust to the Good Nature of the Age: And he that likes the Musick and the Play Shall be my Favourite Gallant to-day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRUE UNTIL DEATH by ROBERT BURNS EPIGRAM: 59. ON SPIES by BEN JONSON THE CROSS OF SNOW by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ON A FLY DRINKING FROM HIS CUP by WILLIAM OLDYS BEREAVED by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 97. A SUPERSCRIPTION by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |