NASH’S DILDO
IT was the merry month of February, | |
| When young men in their bravery, | |
| Rose in the morning, before break of day, | |
| To seek their valentines so fresh and gay. | |
| With whom they may consort in Summer’s shene, | 5 |
| And dance the high degree in our town green: | |
| And also at Easter, and at Penticost, | |
| Perambulate the fields that flourish most: | |
| And go into some village bordering near, | |
| To taste the Cakes and cream and such good cheer, | 10 |
| To see a play of strange morality, | |
| Chosen by the bachelours of magnaminity, | |
| Whither our Country Franklins flockmeal swarm, | |
| And John and Joan come marching arm in arm, | |
| Even on the Hallowes of that blessed Saint, | 15 |
| That doth true lovers with those joys acquaint, | |
| I went, poor pilgrim, to my Lady’s shrine, | |
| To see if she would be my Valentine. | |
| But out, alas, she was not to be found, | |
| For she was shifted to another ground: | 20 |
| Good Justice Dudgeon, with his crabbed face, | |
| With bills and staves had scared her from that place: | |
| And she poor wench, compelled for sanctuary | |
| To fly into a house of Venery. | |
| Thither went I, and boldly made inquire | 25 |
| If they had hackneys to let out to hire, | |
| And what they craved by order of their trade, | |
| To let me ride a journey on a jade. | |
| With that, stept forth a foggy three-chinned dame, | |
| That used to take young wenches for to tame, | 30 |
| And asked me, if soothe were my request, | |
| Or only mouth a question but in jest? | |
| |
| “In jest,” quoth I, “that term it as you will, | |
| I come for game; therefore give me my Jill.” | |
| “If that it be,” quoth she, “that you demand, | 35 |
| Then give me first a godes peny in my hand; | |
| For in our oratory, siccarly, | |
| None enters in, to do his devory, | |
| But he must pay his affidavit first, | |
| And then perhaps Ile ease him of his thirst.” | 40 |
| I, seeing her so earnest for the box, | |
| I gave her her due, and she the door unlocks. | |
| |
| Now I am entered, sweet Venus be my speed! | |
| But where’s the female that must do the deed? | |
| Through blind meanders, and through crooked ways. | 45 |
| She leads me onward, as my author says, | |
| Until I came unto a shady loft | |
| Where Venus bouncing vestures skirmish fought. | |
| And there she set me in a Leather chair, | |
| And brought me forth, of wenches, straight a pair, | 50 |
| And bade me choose which might content my eye; | |
| But she I sought, I could no way espy. | |
| I spake her fair, and wished her well to fare, | |
| “But so it is, I must have fresher ware; | |
| Wherefore, dame based, so dainty as you be, | 55 |
| Fetch gentle Mistress Frances unto me.” | |
| “By Holy Dame,” quoth she, “and God’s one mother | |
| I well perceive you are a wily brother; | |
| For if there be a morcell of better price, | |
| You’ll find it out, though I be now so nice. | 60 |
| As you desire, so shall you swive with her; | |
| But look, your purse-strings shall abide it dear; | |
| For he who’ll feed on quails, must lavish crowns, | |
| And Mistress Frances, in her velvet gowns, | |
| Her ruff and perriwig so fresh as May, | 65 |
| Cannot be kept for half a crown a day.” | |
| |
| “Of price, good hostess, we will not debate, | |
| Although you assize me at the highest rate; | |
| Only conduct me to this bonny belle, | |
| And ten good goblets unto thee I’ll tell, | 70 |
| Of gold or silver, which shall like you best, | |
| So much I do her company request.” | |
| Away she went, so sweet a word is gold, | |
| It makes invasion in the strongest hold; | |
| Lo, here she comes that hath my heart in keeping, | 75 |
| Sing lullaby, my cares and fall a sleeping. | |
| Sweeping she comes, as she would brush the ground: | |
| Her ratling silk my senses do confound: | |
| Away I am ravished: “void the chamber straight, | |
| I must be straight upon her with my weight.” | 80 |
| “My Tomalyn,” quoth she, and then she smiled: | |
| “I, I,” quoth I, “So more men are beguiled | |
| With sighs and flattering words and tears, | |
| When in your deeds much falsehood still appears.” | |
| “As how, my Tomalyn,” blushing she replied, | 85 |
| “Because I in this dauncing 1 should abide? | |
| If that be it that breeds thy discontent, | |
| We will remove the camp incontinent: | |
| For shelter only, sweet heart, came I hither, | |
| And to avoid the troublesome stormy weather; | 90 |
| And since the coast is clear, I will be gone, | |
| For, but thy self, true lovers I have none.” | |
| |
| With that she sprung full lightly to my lips, | |
| And about my neck she hugs, she culls, she clips, | |
| She wanton faines, and falls upon the bed, | 95 |
| And often tosses to and fro her head; | |
| She shakes her feet, and waggles with her tongue: | |
| Oh, who is able to forbear so long? | |
| “I come, I come, sweet Lady, by thy leave”; | |
| Softly my fingers up the curtains heave, | 100 |
| And send me happy stealing by degrees, | |
| First unto the feet, and then unto the knees, | |
| And so ascend unto her manly thigh— | |
| A pox on lingering, when I come so nigh! | |
| Smock, climb apace, that I may see my joys, | 105 |
| All earthly pleasures seem to this but toys, | |
| Compared be these delights which I behold, | |
| Which well might keep a man from being old. | |
| A pretty rising womb without a wenn, | |
| That shine[s] as bright as any crystal gem, | 110 |
| And bears out like the rising of a hill, | |
| At whose decline the[re] runs a fountain still, | |
| That hath her mouth beset with rugged briers, | |
| Resembling much a dusky net of wires: | |
| A lusty buttock, barred with azure veins, | 115 |
| Whose comely swelling, when my hand restrains, | |
| Or harmless checketh with a wanton grip, | |
| It makes the fruit thereof too soon be ripe, | |
| A pleasure plucked too timely from his spring | |
| It is, dies e’re it can enjoy the used thing. | 120 |
| O Gods, that ever any thing so sweet, | |
| So suddenly should fade away, and fleet! | |
| Her arms and legs and all were spread, | |
| But I was all unarmed, | |
| Like one that Ovid’s cursed hemlock charmed, | 125 |
| (So are my Limbs unwieldly for the fight,) | |
| That spent there strength in thought of your delight. | |
| |
| What shall I do, to shew myself a man? | |
| It will not be, for ought that beauty can: | |
| I kiss, I clip, I winch, I feel at will, | 130 |
| Yet lies he dead, not feeling good or ill. | |
| “By Holy dame (quoth she), and wilt not stand? | |
| Now let me roll and rub it in my hand! | |
| Perhaps the silly worm hath laboured sore, | |
| And worked so that it can do no more: | 135 |
| Which if it be, as I do greatly dread, | |
| I wish ten thousand times that I were dead. | |
| What ere it be, no means shall lack in me, | |
| That may avail for his recovery.” | |
| Which said, she took and rolled it on her thigh, | 140 |
| And looking down on it, did groan and sigh; | |
| She handled it, and danced it up and down, | |
| Not ceasing till she raised it from (the swoune); | |
| And then it flew on her as it were wood, | |
| And on her breech laboured and foam’d a good; | 145 |
| He rubbed and pierced her ever to the bone, | |
| Digging as deep as he could dig for stones; | |
| Now high, now low, now striking short and thick, | |
| And diving deeper, pierced her to the quick; | |
| Now with a gird he would his course rebate, | 150 |
| Then would he take him to a stately gate. | |
| Play when he list, and thrust he nere so hard, | |
| Poor patient Grissell lyeth at his ward, | |
| And gives and takes as blith and fresh as May, | |
| And ever meets him in the middle of the way. | 155 |
| On her his eyes continually were fixt; | |
| With his eye-brows, her melting eyes were mixt, | |
| Which, like the sun, betwixt two glasses plays, | |
| From the one to the other casting rebounding rays. | |
| She like a star, that, to requite his beams, | 160 |
| Sucks the influence of sweet Phoebus streams, | |
| In bathes the beams of his descending light | |
| In the deepest fountains of the purest light. | |
| She, fair as fairest planet in the sky, | |
| But purity to no man doth deny; | 165 |
| The very chamber that includes her shine, | |
| Seems as the palace of the gods divine, | |
| Who leads the day about the Zodiack, | |
| And in the even, sets of the ocean lake; | |
| So fierce and fervent in her radiance, | 170 |
| Such flying breath she darts at every glance | |
| As might inflame the very napp of age, | |
| And cause pale death him suddenly t’assuage, | |
| And stand and gaze upon those orient lamps, | |
| Where Cupid all his joys incamps. | 175 |
| (And sits and plays with every atomie | |
| That in her Sun-beams swarm abundantly.) | |
| Thus striking, thus gazing, we persevere: | |
| But nought so sure that will continue ever: | |
| “Fleet not so fast,” my ravished senses cries, | 180 |
| “Since my Content upon thy life relies, | |
| Which brought so soon from his delightful seats, | |
| Me, unawares, of blissful hope defeats; | |
| (Together let our equal motion stir, | |
| Together let us live and die, my dear;) | 185 |
| Together let us march with one content | |
| And be consum[e]d without languishment.” | |
| As she prescribed, so keep we clock and time, | |
| And every stroke in order like a chime, | |
| So she that here preferred me by her pity, | 190 |
| Unto our music fram’d a groaning ditty: | |
| “Alas, alas, that love should be a sin! | |
| Even now my joys and sorrows do begin; | |
| Hold wide thy lap, my lovely Danae, | |
| And entertain this golden showery sea, | 195 |
| That drisling fall[s] into thy treasury:” | |
| Sweet April flowers not half so pleasant be, | |
| Nor Nilus overflowing Egypt plain, | |
| As in the balm that all her womb destreyn. | |
| “Now, oh now,” she trickling moves her lips, | 200 |
| And often to and fro she lightly starts and skips: | |
| She jerks her legs, and fresketh with her heels: | |
| No tongue can tell the pleasures that she feels. | |
| “I come, I come, sweet death, rock me a-sleep! | |
| Sleep, sleep, desire, intomb me in the deep!” | 205 |
| “Not so, my dear and dearest,” she replied: | |
| “From us two [? sweet] this pleasure must not glide, | |
| Until the sinnewy Chambers of our blood | |
| Withhold themselves from this new prisoned flood; | |
| And then we will, that then will come so soon, | 210 |
| Dissolved lie, as though our days were done.” | |
| |
| The whilest I speak, my soul is stealing hence, | |
| And life forsakes his earthly residence: | |
| “Stay but one hour,—an hour is not so much, | |
| Nay, half an hour: and if thy haste be such, | 215 |
| Nay, but a quarter, I will ask no more, | |
| That thy departure, which torments me sore, | |
| May now be lengthened by a little pause, | |
| And take away this passion’s sudden cause.” | |
| He hears me not; hard hearted as he is, | 220 |
| He is the scorn of time, and hath my bliss: | |
| Time ne’er looks back; the river ne’er returns; | |
| A second spring must help, or else I burn: | |
| (No, no, the well is dry that should refresh me, | |
| The glass is run of all my destiny: | 225 |
| Nature, of winter leaneth, niggardize, | |
| Who, as he overbears the stream with ice | |
| That man nor beast may of their pleasance taste, | |
| So shuts she up her conduit all in haste, | |
| And will not let her Nectar overflow, | 230 |
| Least mortal man immortal joys should know. | |
| Adieu, unconstant love, to thy disport; | |
| Adieu, false mirth, and melodies too short; | |
| Adieu, faint-hearted instrument of lust, | |
| That falsely hath betrayed our equal trust.) | 235 |
| Henceforth I will no more implore thine aid, | |
| Or thee for ever of Cowardice shall upraid: | |
| My little dildoe shall supply your kind, | |
| A youth that is as light as leaves in wind: | |
| He bendeth not, nor foldeth any deal, | 240 |
| But stands as stiff as he were made of steel; | |
| (And plays at peacock twixt my legs right blithe | |
| And doeth my tickling swage with many a sigh;) | |
| And when I will, he doth refresh me well, | |
| And never makes my tender belly swell.” | 245 |
| Poor Priapus, thy kingdom needs must fall, | |
| Except thou thrust thus weakling to the wall; | |
| Behold how he usurps in bed and bower, | |
| And undermines thy kingdom every hour: | |
| And slyly creeps between the bark and tree, | 250 |
| And sucks the sap while sleep detaineth thee: | |
| He is my Mistress lake 2 at every sound, | |
| And soon will tent a deep intrenched wound; | |
| He waits on courtly nymphs that are full coy, | |
| And bids them scorn the blind alluring boy; | 255 |
| (He gives young girls their gamesome sustenance, | |
| And every gaping mouth his full sufficiance.) | |
| He fortifies disdain with foreign arts, | |
| While wantons chaste delude all loving hearts. | |
| If any wight a cruel Mistress serve, | 260 |
| And in despair full deeply pine and sterve, | |
| (Curse Eunuch dildo, senseless counterfeit, | |
| Who sooth may fill, but never can beget: | |
| But if revenge enraged with despair, | |
| That such a dwarf his welfare should impair,) | 265 |
| Would fain this woman’s secretary know, | |
| Let him attend the marks that I shall show: | |
| He is a youth almost two handfulls high; | |
| Straight, round, and plump, and having but one eye, | |
| Wherein the rheum so fervently doth rain, | 270 |
| The Stygian gulf can scarce his tears contain; | |
| Running sometimes in thick congealed glass, | |
| Where he more like, down into hell would pass: | |
| An arm strong guider steadfastly him guides; | |
| Upon a chariot of five wheels he rides, | 275 |
| Attired in white velvet or in silk, | |
| And nourisht with warm water or with milk, | |
| And often alters pace as ways grow deep; | |
| For who, in places unknown, one pace can keep? | |
| Sometimes he smoothly slippeth down a hill; | 280 |
| Some other times, the stones his feet do kill; | |
| In clayey ways he treadeth by and by, | |
| And placeth himself and all that standeth by: | |
| So fares this royal rider in his race, | |
| Plunging and sowsing forward in like case, | 285 |
| Bedasht, bespotted, and beplotted foul— | |
| God give thee shame, thou foul misshapen owl! | |
| But free from grief a lady’s chamberleyne, | |
| And canst thou not thy tattling tongue refrain? | |
| I tell the beardless blabb, beware of stripes, | 290 |
| And be advised what thou so vainly pipst; | |
| If Ilyian queen know of thy bravery here, | |
| Thou shouldst be whipt with nettles for thy geer. | |
| |
| Saint Dennis shield me from such female sprights! | |
| Regard not, dames, what Cupid’s poet writes: | 295 |
| I pen this story only for myself; | |
| And, giving it to such an actual elf, | |
| Am quite discouraged in my musery, | |
| Since all my store to her seems misery. | |
| I am not as was Hercules the stout, | 300 |
| That to the seventh journey could hold out; | |
| I want those herbs and roots of Indian soil, | |
| That strengthen weary members in their toil, | |
| Or drugs or electuaries of new devises, | |
| That shame my purse, and tremble at the prices. | 305 |
| I paid of both, [the] scott and lott almost, | |
| Yet look as lank and lean as any ghost; | |
| For that I always had, I paid the whole, | |
| Which, for a poor man, is a princely dole— | |
| What can be added more to my renown? | 310 |
| She lieth breathless; I am taken down; | |
| The waves do swell, the tide climbs o’er the banks; | |
| Judge, gentlewomen, doth this deserve no thanks? | |
| And so, good night unto you every one; | |
| For lo, our thread is spun, our play’s done. | 315 |
| |
| (Thus hath my pen presum’d to please my friend: | |
| Oh, mightst thou likewise please Apollo’s eye. | |
| No, Honor brooks no such impiety, | |
| Yet Ovid’s wanton muse did not offend. | |
| He is the fountain whence my streamers do flow— | 320 |
| Forgive me if I speak as I was taught, | |
| Alike to women utter all I know, | |
| As longing to unlade so bad a fraught. | |
| My mind once purg’d of such lascivious wit, | |
| With purified words and hallowed verse, | 325 |
| Thy praises in large volumes shall rehearse | |
| That better may thy graver view befit. | |
| Meanwhile it rests, you smile at what I write | |
| Or for attempting banish me your sight.) | |
