The Lady's Dressing-room. 1730 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDDEEFGHHHHHHIJKK HHLLHHMMHHNNHHMMMMMM MMMMHHMMHHMMBAHHOOMM HHMMPPHHHHQQHHHHMMAA RRMMSSHHHHHHNNTTNNHH QQMMUUVVHHWWXXEEMVBB MMIIMMHHHHMMTTMMMMHH HHYY

Five hours and who can do it less inA
By haughty Celia spent in dressingB
The goddess from her chamber issuesC
Array'd in lace brocades and tissuesC
Strephon who found the room was voidD
And Betty otherwise employ'dD
Stole in and took a strict surveyE
Of all the litter as it layE
Whereof to make the matter clearF
An inventory follows hereG
And first a dirty smock appear'dH
Beneath the arm pits well besmear'dH
Strephon the rogue display'd it wideH
And turn'd it round on ev'ry sideH
On such a point few words are bestH
And Strephon bids us guess the restH
But swears how damnably the men lieI
In calling Celia sweet and cleanlyJ
Now listen while he next producesK
The various combs for various usesK
Fill'd up with dirt so closely fixtH
No brush could force a way betwixtH
A paste of composition rareL
Sweat dandriff powder lead and hairL
A fore head cloth with oil upon'tH
To smooth the wrinkles on her frontH
Here alum flour to stop the steamsM
Exhaled from sour unsavoury streamsM
There night gloves made of Tripsey's hideH
Bequeath'd by Tripsey when she diedH
With puppy water beauty's helpN
Distil'd from Tripsey's darling whelpN
Here gallipots and vials placedH
Some fill'd with washes some with pasteH
Some with pomatums paints and slopsM
And ointments good for scabby chopsM
Hard by a filthy bason standsM
Foul'd with the scouring of her handsM
The bason takes whatever comesM
The scrapings from her teeth and gumsM
A nasty compound of all huesM
For here she spits and here she spuesM
But oh it turn'd poor Strephon's bowelsM
When he beheld and smelt the towelsM
Begumm'd bematter'd and beslim'dH
With dirt and sweat and ear wax grim'dH
No object Strephon's eye escapesM
Here petticoats in frouzy heapsM
Nor be the handkerchiefs forgotH
All varnish'd o'er with snuff and snotH
The stockings why should I exposeM
Stain'd with the moisture of her toesM
Or greasy coifs and pinners reekingB
Which Celia slept at least a week inA
A pair of tweezers next he foundH
To pluck her brows in arches roundH
Or hairs that sink the forehead lowO
Or on her chin like bristles growO
The virtues we must not let passM
Of Celia's magnifying glassM
When frighted Strephon cast his eye on'tH
It shew'd the visage of a giantH
A glass that can to sight discloseM
The smallest worm in Celia's noseM
And faithfully direct her nailP
To squeeze it out from head to tailP
For catch it nicely by the headH
It must come out alive or deadH
Why Strephon will you tell the restH
And must you needs describe the chestH
That careless wench no creature warn herQ
To move it out from yonder cornerQ
But leave it standing full in sightH
For you to exercise your spightH
In vain the workman shew'd his witH
With rings and hinges counterfeitH
To make it seem in this disguiseM
A cabinet to vulgar eyesM
Which Strephon ventur'd to look inA
Resolved to go thro' thick and thinA
He lifts the lid there needs no moreR
He smelt it all the time beforeR
As from within Pandora's boxM
When Epimetheus op'd the locksM
A sudden universal crewS
Of human evils upward flewS
He still was comforted to findH
That hope at last remain'd behindH
So Strephon lifting up the lidH
To view what in the chest was hidH
The vapours flew from up the ventH
But Strephon cautious never meantH
The bottom of the pan to gropeN
And foul his hands in search of hopeN
O ne'er may such a vile machineT
Be once in Celia's chamber seenT
O may she better learn to keepN
Those secrets of the hoary deepN
As mutton cutlets prime of meatH
Which tho' with art you salt and beatH
As laws of cookery requireQ
And toast them at the clearest fireQ
If from upon the hopeful chopsM
The fat upon a cinder dropsM
To stinking smoke it turns the flameU
Pois'ning the flesh from whence it cameU
And up exhales a greasy stenchV
For which you curse the careless wenchV
So things which must not be exprestH
When drop'd into the reeking chestH
Send up an excremental smellW
To taint the part from whence they fellW
The petticoats and gown perfumeX
And waft a stink round ev'ry roomX
Thus finishing his grand surveyE
Disgusted Strephon slunk awayE
Repeating in his amorous fitsM
Oh Celia Celia Celia shV
But Vengeance goddess never sleepingB
Soon punish'd Strephon for his peepingB
His foul imagination linksM
Each dame he sees with all her stinksM
And if unsavoury odours flyI
Conceives a lady standing byI
All women his description fitsM
And both ideas jump like witsM
By vicious fancy coupled fastH
And still appearing in contrastH
I pity wretched Strephon blindH
To all the charms of woman kindH
Should I the Queen of Love refuseM
Because she rose from stinking oozeM
To him that looks behind the sceneT
Statira's but some pocky queanT
When Celia in her glory shewsM
If Strephon would but stop his noseM
Who now so impiously blasphemesM
Her ointments daubs and paints and creamsM
Her washes slops and every cloutH
With which he makes so foul a routH
He soon would learn to think like meH
And bless his ravish'd sight to seeH
Such order from confusion sprungY
Such gaudy tulips raised from dungY

Jonathan Swift



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