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When first Diana leaves her bed Vapors and Steams her Looks disgrace, A frouzy dirty colour'd red Sits on her cloudy wrinckled Face. |
But by degrees when mounted high Her artificiall Face appears Down from her Window in the Sky, Her Spots are gone, her Visage clears. |
'Twixt earthly Femals and the Moon All Parallells exactly run; If Celia should appear too soon Alas, the Nymph would be undone. |
To see her from her Pillow rise All reeking in a cloudy Steam, Crackt Lips, foul Teeth, and gummy Eyes, Poor Strephon, how would he blaspheme! |
| The Soot or Powder which was wont To make her Hair look black as Jet, Falls from her Tresses on her Front A mingled Mass of Dirt and Sweat. |
Three Colours, Black, and Red, and White, So gracefull in their proper Place, Remove them to a diff'rent Light They form a frightfull hideous Face, |
For instance; when the Lilly slipps Into the Precincts of the Rose, And takes Possession of the Lips, Leaving the Purple to the Nose. |
So Celia went entire to bed, All her Complexions safe and sound, But when she rose, the black and red Though still in Sight, had chang'd their Ground. |
| The Black, which would not be confin'd A more inferior Station seeks Leaving the fiery red behind, And mingles in her muddy Cheeks. |
The Paint by Perspiration cracks, And falls in Rivulets of Sweat, On either Side you see the Tracks, While at her Chin the Conflu'ents met. |
A Skillfull Houswife thus her Thumb With Spittle while she spins, anoints, And thus the brown Meanders come In trickling Streams betwixt her Joynts. |
But Celia can with ease reduce By help of Pencil, Paint and Brush Each Colour to it's Place and Use, And teach her Cheeks again to blush. |
| She knows her Early self no more, But fill'd with Admiration, stands, As Other Painters oft adore The Workmanship of their own Hands. |
Thus after four important Hours Celia's the Wonder of her Sex; Say, which among the Heav'nly Pow'rs Could cause such wonderfull Effects. |
Venus, indulgent to her Kind Gave Women all their Hearts could wish When first she taught them where to find White Lead, and Lusitanian Dish. |
Love with White lead cements his Wings, White lead was sent us to repair Two brightest, brittlest earthly Things A Lady's Face, and China ware. |
| She ventures now to lift the Sash, The Window is her proper Sphear; Ah Lovely Nymph be not too rash, Nor let the Beaux approach too near. |
Take Pattern by your Sister Star, Delude at once and Bless our Sight, When you are seen, be seen from far, And chiefly chuse to shine by Night. |
In the Pell-mell when passing by, Keep up the Glasses of your Chair, Then each transported Fop will cry, G—d d—m me Jack, she's wondrous fair. |
But, Art no longer can prevayl When the Materialls all are gone, The best Mechanick Hand must fayl Where Nothing's left to work upon. |
| Matter, as wise Logicians say, Cannot without a Form subsist, And Form, say I, as well as They, Must fayl if Matter brings no Grist. |
And this is fair Diana's Case For, all Astrologers maintain Each Night a Bit drops off her Face When Mortals say she's in her Wain. |
While Partridge wisely shews the Cause Efficient of the Moon's Decay, That Cancer with his pois'nous Claws Attacks her in the milky Way: |
But Gadbury in Art profound From her pale Cheeks pretends to show That Swain Endymion is not sound, Or else, that Mercury's her Foe. |
| But, let the Cause be what it will, In half a Month she looks so thin That Flamstead can with all his Skill See but her Forehead and her Chin. |
Yet as she wasts, she grows discreet, Till Midnight never shows her Head; So rotting Celia stroles the Street When sober Folks are all a-bed. |
For sure if this be Luna's Fate, Poor Celia, but of mortall Race In vain expects a longer Date To the Materialls of Her Face. |
When Mercury her Tresses mows To think of Oyl and Soot, is vain, No Painting can restore a Nose, Nor will her Teeth return again. |
| Two Balls of Glass may serve for Eyes, White Lead can plaister up a Cleft, But these alas, are poor Supplyes If neither Cheeks, nor Lips be left. |
Ye Pow'rs who over Love preside, Since mortal Beautyes drop so soon, If you would have us well supply'd, Send us new Nymphs with each new Moon. |
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