| Five Hours, (and who can do it less in?) | |
| By haughty Celia spent in Dressing; | |
| The Goddess from her Chamber issues, | |
| Array’d° in Lace, Brocades and Tissues. | decked out |
| Strephon, who found the Room was void, [5] | |
| And Betty° otherwise employ’d; | maidservant’s name |
| Stole° in, and took a strict Survey, | sneaked |
| Of all the Litter as it lay; | |
| Whereof, to make the Matter clear, | |
| An Inventory follows here. [10] | |
| And first a dirty Smock° appear’d, | underwear |
| Beneath the Arm-pits well besmear’d. | |
| Strephon, the Rogue, display’d it wide, | |
| And turn’d it round on every Side. | |
| On such a Point few Words are best, [15] | |
| 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, | |
| The various Combs for various Uses, [20] | |
| Fill’d up with Dirt so closely fixt, | |
| No Brush could force a way betwixt.° | between |
| A Paste of Composition rare, | |
| Sweat, Dandriff, Powder, Lead and Hair; | lead was used as a cosmetic |
| A Forehead Cloth with Oyl upon’t [25] | |
| To smooth the Wrinkles on her Front;° | forehead |
| Here Allum Flower° to stop the Steams, | antiperspirant powder |
| Exhal’d from sour unsavoury Streams, | |
| There Night-gloves made of Tripsy’s° Hide, | lapdog’s name |
| Bequeath’d by Tripsy when she dy’d, [30] | |
| With Puppy Water,° Beauty’s Help | moisturizer made from dead puppies |
| Distill’d from Tripsy’s darling Whelp;° | puppy |
| Here Gallypots° and Vials plac’d, | jars |
| Some fill’d with washes, some with Paste, | |
| Some with Pomatum,° Paints and Slops, [35] | hair cream |
| And Ointments good for scabby Chops. | |
| Hard by° a filthy Bason stands, | nearby |
| Fowl’d with the Scouring of her Hands; | |
| The Bason takes whatever comes | |
| The Scrapings of her Teeth and Gums, [40] | |
| A nasty Compound of all Hues, | |
| For here she spits, and here she spues.° | spews |
| But oh! it turn’d poor Strephon’s Bowels, | |
| When he beheld and smelt the Towels, | |
| Begumm’d, bematter’d, and beslim’d [45] | |
| With Dirt, and Sweat, and Ear-Wax grim’d. | |
| No Object Strephon’s Eye escapes, | |
| Here Pettycoats° in frowzy° Heaps; | underwear — messy |
| Nor be the Handkerchiefs forgot | |
| All varnish’d o’er with Snuff and Snot. [50] | |
| The Stockings, why shou’d I expose, | |
| Stain’d with the Marks of stinking Toes; | |
| Or greasy Coifs and Pinners° reeking, | night caps |
| Which Celia slept at least a Week in? | |
| A Pair of Tweezers next he found [55] | |
| 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, | |
| Of Celia’s magnifying Glass.° [60] | mirror |
| When frighted Strephon cast his Eye on’t | |
| It shew’d the Visage° of a Gyant. | face |
| A Glass that can to Sight disclose, | |
| The smallest Worm in Celia’s Nose, | |
| And faithfully direct her Nail [65] | |
| 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? | |
| And must you needs° describe the Chest? [70] | do you have to |
| 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 Spight. | |
| In vain, the Workman shew’d his Wit [75] | |
| With Rings and Hinges counterfeit | |
| To make it seem in this Disguise, | |
| A Cabinet to vulgar° Eyes; | common |
| For Strephon ventur’d to look in, | |
| Resolv’d to go thro’ thick and thin; [80] | |
| He lifts the Lid, there needs no more, | |
| He smelt it all the Time before. | |
| As from within Pandora’s Box, | mythological source of all evils |
| When Epimetheus op’d the Locks, | |
| A sudden universal Crew [85] | |
| Of humane Evils upwards flew; | |
| He still was comforted to find | |
| That Hope at last remain’d behind; | |
| So Strephon lifting up the Lid, | |
| To view what in the Chest was hid. [90] | |
| The Vapours flew from out the Vent, | |
| But Strephon cautious never meant | |
| The Bottom of the Pan to grope, | |
| And fowl his Hands in Search of Hope. | |
| O never may such vile Machine° [95] | device |
| Be once in Celia’s Chamber seen! | |
| O may she better learn to keep | |
| “Those Secrets of the hoary deep!” | |
| As Mutton Cutlets, Prime of Meat, | |
| Which tho’ with Art° you salt and beat, [100] | skill |
| As Laws of Cookery require, | |
| And toast them at the clearest Fire; | |
| If from adown the hopeful Chops | |
| The Fat upon a Cinder drops, | |
| To stinking Smoak it turns the Flame [105] | |
| Pois’ning 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 exprest, | |
| When plumpt° into the reeking Chest; [110] | dropped |
| Send up an excremental Smell | |
| To taint the Parts from whence they fell. | |
| The Pettycoats and Gown perfume, | |
| Which waft a Stink round every Room. | |
| Thus finishing his grand Survey, [115] | |
| Disgusted Strephon stole° away | sneaked |
| Repeating in his amorous Fits, | |
| Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits! | |
| But Vengeance, Goddess never sleeping | |
| Soon punish’d Strephon for his Peeping; [120] | |
| His foul Imagination links | |
| Each Dame he sees with all her Stinks: | |
| And, if unsav’ry° Odours fly, | disgusting |
| Conceives° a Lady standing by: | imagines |
| All Women his Description fits, [125] | |
| And both Idea’s jump like Wits: | |
| By vicious Fancy° coupled fast, | imagination |
| And still appearing in Contrast. | |
| I pity wretched Strephon blind | |
| To all the Charms of Female Kind; [130] | |
| Should I the Queen of Love refuse, | |
| Because she rose from stinking Ooze? | |
| To him that looks behind the Scene, | |
| Statira’s but some pocky Quean.° | diseased slut |
| When Celia in her Glory shows, [135] | |
| 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,° | rag |
| With which he makes so foul a Rout;) [140] | |
| He soon would learn to think like me, | |
| And bless his ravisht° Sight to see | carried away |
| Such Order from Confusion sprung, | |
| Such gaudy Tulips rais’d from Dung. |