Classic Poem

I.
Dear Molly, why so oft in Tears?
For thy bold Son of Thunder?
Have Patience till we've conquer'd France,
Thy Closet shall be stor'd with Nants;
Ye Ladies like such Plunder.

II.
Before Toulon thy Yoke-mate lies,
Where all the live-long Night he sighs
For thee in lowsy Cabbin:
And tho' the Captain's Chloe cries,
'Tis I, dear Bully, prithee rise —
He will not let the Drab in.

III.
But she, the Cunning'st Jade alive,
Says, 'Tis the ready way to thrive,
By sharing Female Bounties:
And, if he'll be but kind one Night,
She Vows, He shall be dubb'd a Knight,
When she is made a Countess.

IV.
Then tells of smooth young Pages whipp'd,
Cashier'd, and of their Liv'ries stripp'd,
Who late to Peers belonging;
Are nightly now compell'd to trudge
With Links, because they would not drudge
To save their Ladies Longing.

V.
But Vol the Eunuch cannot be
A Colder Cavalier than he,
In all such Love-Adventures:
Then pray do you, dear Molly, take
Some Christian Care, and do not break
Your Conjugal Indentures.

VI.
Bellair! Who does not Bellair know?
The Wit, the Beauty, and the Beau,
Gives out, He loves you dearly:
And many a Nymph attack'd with Sighs,
And soft Impertinence and Noise,
Full oft has beat a Parley.

VII.
But, pretty Turtle, when the Blade
Shall come with am'rous Serenade,
Soon from the Window rate him:
But if Reproof will not prevail,
And he perchance attempt to scale,
Discharge the Jordan at him.