T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
The Jilts
Anonymous(From Pills to Purge Melancholy, c. 1720) |
ON a Bank in flow’ry June, | |
When Groves are green and gay, | |
In a smiling Afternoon, | |
With Doll young Willy lay: | |
They thought none were to spy ’em, | 5 |
But Nell stood list’ning by ’em; | |
Oh fie! Doll cried, no, I vow, I’d rather die; | |
Than wrong my Modesty: | |
Quoth Nell, that I shall see. | |
Smarting pain the Virgin finds, | 10 |
Although by Nature taught, | |
When she first to Man inclines; | |
Quoth Nell I’ll venture that. | |
Then who would loose a Treasure | |
For such a puny Pleasure? | 15 |
Not I, not I, no, a Maid I’ll live and die, | |
And to my Vow be true: | |
Quoth Nell, the more fool you. | |
To my Closet I’ll repair, | |
And Godly Books peruse; | 20 |
Then devote my self to Pray’r, | |
Quoth Nell, and —— use; | |
You Men are all perfidious, | |
But I will be Religious. | |
Try all, fly all, whil’st I have Breath deny ye all, | 25 |
For the Sex I now despise: | |
Quoth Nell, and G—d she lies. | |
Youthful Blood o’erspreads her Face, | |
When Nature prompts to Sin: | |
Modesty ebbs out apace, | 30 |
And love as fast flows in: | |
The Swain that heard this schooling, | |
Ashamed, left off his fooling; | |
Kill me, kill me, now I am ruined, let me die: | |
You have damned my Soul to Hell; | 35 |
Try her once again, cries Nell. | |