TO THE TUNE OF 'TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW AT LAND.'
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To one fair lady out of Court,And two fair ladies in,Who think the Turk[72] and Pope[73] a sport,And wit and love no sin;Come these soft lines, with nothing stiff in,To Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin.[74]With a fa, la, la. 2 What passes in the dark third row,And what behind the scene,Couches and crippled chairs I know,And garrets hung with green;I know the swing of sinful hack,Where many damsels cry alack.With a fa, la, la. 3 Then why to Courts should I repair,Where's such ado with Townshend?To hear each mortal stamp and swear,And every speech with 'zounds!' end;To hear 'em rail at honest Sunderland,And rashly blame the realm of Blunderland.[75]With a fa, la, la. 4 Alas! like Schutz I cannot pun,Like Grafton court the Germans;Tell Pickenbourg how slim she's grown,Like Meadows[76] run to sermons;To Court ambitious men may roam,But I and Marlbro' stay at home.With a fa, la, la. 5 In truth, by what I can discernOf courtiers, 'twixt you three,Some wit you have, and more may learnFrom Court, than Gay or me;Perhaps, in time, you'll leave high diet,To sup with us on milk and quiet.With a fa, la, la. 6 At Leicester Fields, a house full high,With door all painted green,Where ribbons wave upon the tie,(A milliner I mean;)There may you meet us, three to three,For Gay can well make two of me.With a fa, la, la. 7 But should you catch the prudish itchAnd each become a coward,Bring sometimes with you Lady Rich,And sometimes Mistress Howard;For virgins, to keep chaste, must goAbroad with such as are not so.With a fa, la, la. 8 And thus, fair maids, my ballad ends;God send the king safe landing;[77]And make all honest ladies friendsTo armies that are standing;Preserve the limits of those nations,And take off ladies' limitations.With a fa, la, la.
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