| | | Five hours, (and who can do it less in?) |
| | | By haughty Celia spent in dressing; |
| | | The goddess from her chamber issues, |
| | | Arrayed in lace, brocade and tissues: |
| 5 | | Strephon, who found the room was void |
| | | And Betty otherwise employed, |
| | | Stole in, and took a strict survey, |
| | | Of all the litter as it lay: |
| | | Whereof, to make the matter clear, |
| 10 | | An inventory follows here. |
| | | And first, a dirty smock appeared, |
| | | Beneath the arm-pits well besmeared; |
| | | Strephon, the rogue, displayed it wide, |
| | | And turned it round on every side. |
| 15 | | On such a point few words are best, |
| | | And Strephon bids us guess the rest; |
| | | But swears how damnably the men lie, |
| | | In calling Celia sweet and cleanly. |
| | | Now listen while he next produces |
| 20 | | The various combs for various uses, |
| | | Filled up with dirt so closely fixt, |
| | | No brush could force a way betwixt; |
| | | A paste of composition rare, |
| | | Sweat, dandruff, powder, lead and hair, |
| 25 | | A forehead cloth with oil upont |
| | | To smooth the wrinkles on her front; |
| | | Here alum flower to stop the steams, |
| | | Exhaled from sour unsavoury streams; |
| | | There night-gloves made of Tripsys hide, |
| 30 | | Bequeathed by Tripsy when she died; |
| | | With puppy water, beautys help, |
| | | Distilled from Tripsys darling whelp. |
| | | Here gallipots and vials placed, |
| | | Some filled with washes, some with paste; |
| 35 | | Some with pomatum, paints and slops, |
| | | And ointments good for scabby chops |
| | | Hard by a filthy basin stands, |
| | | Fouled with the scouring of her hands; |
| | | The basin takes whatever comes, |
| 40 | | The scrapings of her teeth and gums, |
| | | A nasty compound of all hues, |
| | | For here she spits, and here she spews. |
| | | But oh! it turned poor Strephons bowels, |
| | | When he beheld and smelled the towels; |
| 45 | | Begummed, bemattered, and beslimed; |
| | | With dirt, and sweat, and earwax grimed. |
| | | No object Strephons eye escapes, |
| | | Here, petticoats in frowzy heaps; |
| | | Nor be the handkerchiefs forgot, |
| 50 | | All varnished oer with snuff and snot. |
| | | The stockings why should I expose, |
| | | Stained with the moisture of her toes; |
| | | Or greasy coifs and pinners reeking, |
| | | Which Celia slept at least a week in? |
| 55 | | A pair of tweezers next he found |
| | | To pluck her brows in arches round, |
| | | Or hairs that sink the forehead low, |
| | | Or on her chin like bristles grow. |
| | | The virtues we must not let pass, |
| 60 | | Of Celias magnifying glass; |
| | | When frighted Strephon cast his eye ont, |
| | | It showed visage of a giant: |
| | | A glass that can to sight disclose |
| | | The smallest worm in Celias nose, |
| 65 | | And faithfully direct her nail |
| | | To squeeze it out from head to tail; |
| | | For catch it nicely by the head, |
| | | It must come out alive or dead. |
| | | Why, Strephon, will you tell the rest? |
| 70 | | And must you needs describe the chest? |
| | | That careless wench! no creature warn her |
| | | To move it out from yonder corner, |
| | | But leave it standing full in sight, |
| | | For you to exercise your spite. |
| 75 | | In vain the workman showed his wit |
| | | With rings and hinges counterfeit |
| | | To make it seem in this disguise, |
| | | A cabinet to vulgar eyes; |
| | | For Strephon ventured to look in, |
| 80 | | Resolved to go through thick and thin; |
| | | He lifts the lid: there need no more, |
| | | He smelt it all the time before. |
| | | As, from within Pandoras box, |
| | | When Epimethus oped the locks, |
| 85 | | A sudden universal crew |
| | | Of human evils upward flew; |
| | | He still was comforted to find |
| | | That hope at last remained behind. |
| | | So, Strephon, lifting up the lid, |
| 90 | | To view what in the chest was hid, |
| | | The vapours flew from out the vent, |
| | | But Strephon cautious never meant |
| | | The bottom of the pan to grope, |
| | | And foul his hands in search of hope. |
| 95 | | O never may such vile machine |
| | | Be once in Celias chamber seen! |
| | | O may she better learn to keep |
| | | Those secrets of the hoary deep. |
| | | As mutton cutlets, prime of meat, |
| 100 | | Which though with art you salt and beat, |
| | | As laws of cookery require, |
| | | And roast them at the clearest fire; |
| | | If from adown the hopeful chops |
| | | The fat upon a cinder drops, |
| 105 | | To stinking smoke it turns the flame |
| | | Poisoning the flesh from whence it came; |
| | | And up exhales a greasy stench, |
| | | For which you curse the careless wench: |
| | | So things which must not be expressed, |
| 110 | | When plumped into the reeking chest, |
| | | Send up an excremental smell |
| | | To taint the parts from which they fell: |
| | | The petticoats and gown perfume, |
| | | And waft a stink round every room. |
| 115 | | Thus finishing his grand survey, |
| | | Disgusted Strephon stole away, |
| | | Repeating in his amorous fits, |
| | | Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits! |
| | | But Vengeance, goddess never sleeping, |
| 120 | | Soon punished Strephon for his peeping. |
| | | His foul imagination links |
| | | Each dame he sees with all her stinks: |
| | | And, if unsavoury odours fly, |
| | | Conceives a lady standing by: |
| 125 | | All women his description fits, |
| | | And both ideas jump like wits, |
| | | By vicious fancy coupled fast, |
| | | And still appearing in contrast. |
| | | I pity wretched Strephon, blind |
| 130 | | To all the charms of womankind; |
| | | Should I the queen of love refuse, |
| | | Because she rose from stinking ooze? |
| | | To him that looks behind the scene, |
| | | Statiras but some pocky quean. |
| 135 | | When Celia in her glory shows, |
| | | If Strephon would but stop his nose, |
| | | Who now so impiously blasphemes |
| | | Her ointments, daubs, and paints and creams; |
| | | Her washes, slops, and every clout, |
| 140 | | With which he makes so foul a rout, |
| | | He soon would learn to think like me, |
| | | And bless his ravished eyes to see |
| | | Such order from confusion sprung, |
| | | Such gaudy tulips raised from dung. |
| | | |
First published 1732.
Contributed by Robert Clark.