With wooden lockets ’bout their wrists;
In which they for a while are tenants,
And for their Ladies suffer penance:  810
Whipping, that’s Virtue’s governess,
Tutress of arts and sciences;
That mends the gross mistakes of Nature,
And puts new life into dull matter;
That lays foundation for renown, 815
And all the honours of the gown. 
This suffer’d, they are set at large,
And freed with hon’rable discharge. 
Then in their robes the penitentials
Are straight presented with credentials, 820
And in their way attended on
By magistrates of ev’ry town;
And, all respect and charges paid,
They’re to their ancient seats convey’d. 
Now if you’ll venture, for my sake, 825
To try the toughness of your back,
And suffer (as the rest have done)
The laying of a whipping on,
(And may you prosper in your suit,
As you with equal vigour do’t,) 830
I here engage myself to loose ye,
And free your heels from Caperdewsie. 
But since our sex’s modesty
Will not allow I should be by,
Bring me, on oath, a fair account, 835
And honour too, when you have done’t,
And I’ll admit you to the place
You claim as due in my good grace. 
If matrimony and hanging go
By dest’ny, why not whipping too? 840
What med’cine else can cure the fits
Of lovers when they lose their wits? 
Love is a boy by poets stil’d;
Then spare the rod and spoil the child. 
A Persian emp’ror whipp’d his grannam 845
The sea, his mother Venus came on;
And hence some rev’rend men approve
Of rosemary in making love. 
As skilful coopers hoop their tubs
With Lydian and with Phrygian dubs, 850
Why may not whipping have as good
A grace, perform’d in time and mood,
With comely movement, and by art,
Raise passion in a lady’s heart? 
It is an easier way to make 855
Love by, than that which many take. 
Who would not rather suffer whipping,
Than swallow toasts of bits of ribbon? 
Make wicked verses, treats, and faces,
And spell names over with beer-glasses 860
Be under vows to hang and die
Love’s sacrifice, and all a lie? 
With china-oranges and tarts
And whinning plays, lay baits for hearts? 
Bribe chamber-maids with love and money, 865
To break no roguish jests upon ye? 
For lilies limn’d on cheeks, and roses,
With painted perfumes, hazard noses? 
Or, vent’ring to be brisk and wanton,
Do penance in a paper lanthorn? 870
All this you may compound for now,
By suffering what I offer you;
Which is no more than has been done
By Knights for Ladies long agone.