He found her while the scent increast,
As mortal as himself at least. 
But soon, with like occasions prest
He boldly sent his hand in quest
(Inspired with courage from his bride)
To reach the pot on t’other side;
And, as he fill’d the reeking vase;
Let fly a rouser in her face. 
  The little Cupids hov’ring round,
(As pictures prove) with garlands crown’d,
Abash’d at what they saw and heard,
Flew off, nor ever more appear’d. 
  Adieu to ravishing delights,
High raptures, and romantic flights;
To goddesses so heav’nly sweet,
Expiring shepherds at their feet;
To silver meads and shady bowers,
Dress’d up with amaranthine flowers. 
  How great a change! how quickly made! 
They learn to call a spade a spade. 
They soon from all constraint are freed;
Can see each other do their need. 
On box of cedar sits the wife,
And makes it warm for dearest life;
And, by the beastly way of thinking,
Find great society in stinking. 
Now Strephon daily entertains
His Chloe in the homeliest strains;
And Chloe, more experienc’d grown,
With int’rest pays him back his own. 
No maid at court is less asham’d,
Howe’er for selling bargains fam’d,
Than she to name her parts behind,
Or when a-bed to let out wind. 
  Fair Decency, celestial maid! 
Descend from Heaven to Beauty’s aid! 
Though Beauty may beget desire,
’Tis thou must fan the Lover’s fire;
For Beauty, like supreme dominion,
Is best supported by Opinion: 
If Decency bring no supplies,
Opinion falls, and Beauty dies. 
  To see some radiant nymph appear
In all her glitt’ring birth-day gear,
You think some goddess from the sky
Descended, ready cut and dry: 
But ere you sell yourself to laughter,
Consider well what may come after;
For fine ideas vanish fast,
While all the gross and filthy last. 
  O Strephon, ere that fatal day
When Chloe stole your heart away,
Had you but through a cranny spy’d
On house of ease your future bride,
In all the postures of her face,
Which nature gives in such a case;
Distortions, groanings, strainings, heavings,
’Twere better you had lick’d her leavings,
Than from experience find too late
Your goddess grown a filthy mate. 
Your fancy then had always dwelt
On what you saw and what you smelt;
Would still the same ideas give ye,
As when you spy’d her on the privy;
And, spite of Chloe’s charms divine,
Your heart had been as whole as mine. 
  Authorities, both old and recent,
Direct that women must be decent;
And from the spouse each blemish hide,
More than from all the world beside. 
  Unjustly all our nymphs complain
Their empire holds so short a reign;
Is, after marriage, lost so soon,
It hardly lasts the honey-moon: 
For, if they keep not what they caught,
It is entirely their own fault. 
They take possession of the crown,