Classic Poem

 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'l say 'tis a wonder)
There's no such thing as absence though asunder.
For busie 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), e're Twelve he had been weary.
Though he had all the pretty Recreations
With which Lovers do hush their whuling passions.

 As he stalk'd on, he sometimes fell a Quaiting
Round Tiles, to be unmindful of his Waiting;
Or, as he reel'd along the green Hedge-Rows,
He rummag'd them for Black-berries and Sloes.
Whether on Mole-hill squatted, with a Key,
He whistled out a chearing Roundeley,
'Till Emmet put him out to make him scratch
Impatient Buttock, when she made it itch:
Or by cool Spring sat down on Bed of Dazies,
And on her Cristal Surface made Love-faces;
Or in her murmuring soft conversation
Did weep, and murmur too to cool his Passion:
With Philomel , or Pye, or Daw did prate,
And sometime too with Gossip Eccho chat:
Whether with Tag of Codpiece Point, on Bark
Of Trees, he scratch'd and scribbled Hero 's Mark;
Or did unravel all her Sacred Name,
To knit it up again in Anagram;
And sometime in tight Rhime as much bely'd her,
As if the Rogue ne'er in his Life had spy'd her:
For sure Leander was a Burlesque Poet,
Though 'till in Love (like me) he did not know it.
But in such Exercise he whil'd away
The sant'ring Minutes of the tedious Day:
And when Night came, to keep off Spright or Else,
He talk'd, and sung, and whistled to himself.
But in the Woods no longer then wou'd tarry,
Lest that his Breech shou'd feel the Nails of Fairy.

 He therefore back to Sestus Town did creep,
And there, while Folks were all in bed asleep,
(As oft his Betters) on a Bulk, or Bench,
Three or four Hours had Patience for his Wench.
But ere the drawling Clock knockt out thrice four
He was a knocking at back-door of Tow'r,

 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,
Inform'd 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,
Love's 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 e're 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 inhans'd by Fear;
So stollen Bread and Cheese is mighty Chear.
But though Leander went as if on Eggs,
Yet he so loftily did bear his Legs,
That he of four or five steps made but one,
And lingring Hero was no more alone,
Nor unprepar'd for his Reception.

 Her Garret was new swept, and she well drest
For Exercise, in Just-au-Corps or Vest;
As those who can't endure to be strait-lac'd;
Or may be in a Petticoat, and Wastcoat,
In Bawdy Indian Gown, or Bawds long last-coat;
In Cloak of Ermin, or in Tyrian Mantle,
But for my part, what she had on, I can't tell;
For some are not asham'd to say a Blanquet,
But two joyn'd-stools were cover'd with a Banquet,
Which made her dear Leander not much matter
How she was drest; 'twas that made his Mouth water:
She saw't, and therefore let her Passion wait,
Till hungry Lover had ta'ne out his Bait.
So strait, to lose no time, did pull him down
Into a Chair with Arms, and cry'd, Fall on,
If you can like of any thing that's here——
He vow'd it was most excellent good Chear,
But still he prais'd 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 petit morceau aboire .
But for Leander 's curious maiden Chaps
There were provided dainty fine Flip-flaps;
Apple-pie, Custard, Florentine, and Cheese-cake,
And only as I said before, for his sake,
Ginger bread, and stew'd Prunes of her own stewing,
And for his Drink, Stypone of her Brewing;
Hero , and he, to this 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 cou'd begin a Brimmer to the Best.
But subtle Hero in her over-tunning
Of empty Lover, was but over-cunning.
For quite contrary to her wise intent,
All she tunn'd 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're turn'd the Bells;
So of lewd Expectation quite did miss,
As now chaste Reader doth, I'm sure, of his.
But be not angry, e're 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 Coif in stead of Cap,
Tuck up the Cloaths 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) e're the Cock crow'd thrice,
And Hero had piss'd 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 plaguie 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 stroak him, feel his Pulse, and bemoan him;
And charitably too his Stomack settle
By help of Life-restoring Pewter Bottle:
So by her Aid, Directions, and her Dalliance,
Well as he cou'd, he made out's new Alliance.
Then 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 staid so much to wash his Hands, or put on
His Azure Band, or Shammy 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 ho!
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 Lover's doubt,
That Hero wou'd procure her self some Monsieur ,
Who many a good time, and oft, wou'd bounce her,
E're he shou'd get on t'other side 'oth' water.
To which she said, Fie, fie Man, no such matter.
Though heavy Judgments fall upon ye, you Men
Will never leave your base Thoughts of poor Women
But time will come (and she or none cou'd tell,
For she in Magick Art had devilish Skill,
And on a Col-staff oft had gall'd her Breech,
Was try'd, and got off, 'cause she was a Witch)
When all Men shall for something be afraid,
And for their Jealousie be soundly paid.
When Love incens'd, won't tyrannize alone
In Lover's Heart (as now he doth) but Bone:
The Lover for his Miss obtain'd 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 cou'd reply,
For Prophesies 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 wou'd have farther spun the Pocky Riddle,
But Youth in haste did break't off in the middle,
And left her, and Town Seftus , '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 sate Centry;
As he, and Hero had contriv'd, 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 found his precious Stowage,
And made (as Folkes 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 vex'd Hero 's Garret
Five or six long Watch-lights in vain did blare out,
Ere he cou'd put to Sea; and when he did,
It had been better he at home had staid.