Pamela in Town
the fair Pamela came to town,
To London town, in early summer;
And up and down and round about
The beaux discussed the bright new-comer,
With “Gadzooks, sir,” and “Ma’am, my duty,”
And “Odds my life, but ’t is a Beauty!”
To Ranelagh went Mistress Pam,
Sweet Mistress Pam so fair and merry,
With cheeks of cream and roses blent,
With voice of lark and lip of cherry.
Then all the beaux vow’d ’t was their duty
To win and wear this country Beauty.
And first Frank Lovelace tried his wit,
With whispers bold and eyes still bolder;
The warmer grew his saucy flame,
Cold grew the charming fair and colder.
’T was “icy bosom”—“cruel beauty”—
“To love, sweet Mistress, ’t is a duty.”
Then Jack Carew his arts essayed,
With honeyed sighs and feignëd weeping.
Good lack! his billets bound the curls
That pretty Pam she wore a-sleeping.
Next day these curls had richer beauty,
So well Jack’s fervor did its duty.
Then Cousin Will came up to view
The way Pamela ruled the fashion;
He watched the gallants crowd about,
And flew into a rustic passion,—
Left “Squire, his mark,” on divers faces,
And pinked Carew beneath his laces.
Alack! one night at Ranelagh
The pretty Sly-boots fell a-blushing;
And all the mettled bloods look’d round
To see what caused that telltale flushing.
Up stepp’d a grizzled Poet Fellow
To dance with Pam a saltarello.
Then Jack and Frank and Will resolved,
With hand on sword and cutting glances,
That they would lead that Graybeard forth
To livelier tunes and other dances.
But who that saw Pam’s eyes a-shining
With love and joy would see her pining!
And—oons! Their wrath cool’d as they looked—
That Poet stared as fierce as any!
He was a mighty proper man,
With blade on hip and inches many;
The beaux all vow’d it was their duty
To toast some newer, softer Beauty.
Sweet Pam she bridled, blush’d, and smiled—
The wild thing loved and could but show it!
Mayhap some day you ’ll see in town
Pamela and her grizzled Poet.
Forsooth he taught the rogue her duty,
And won her faith, her love, her beauty.