Ovid travestie, a burlesque upon Ovid's Epistles by Alexander Radcliffe ...

LAODAMIA to PROTESILAUS, Lately Translated out of OVID: Now BURLESQU'D.

The ARGUMENT.

In the War between England and Holland, one Pro∣tesilaus, an English Lieutenant of a Fifth Rate Frigat, being Wind-bound upon the Downs; his Wife Laodamia, hearing he was not gone off, sent him this Letter; and, like a fond Wife, gives him strict Caution to avoid Fighting.

A Health to your Prosperity goes round, And to your safe Return before you're drown'd: My Neighbour Iackson's Wife began it to me; If I don't wish it, may it ne'er go through me:

We drink, and fansie to our selves in vain, That the good Winds will blow you back again. I hate the Noise of a tumultuous Sea, Give me a Tempest rais'd by you and me; A Storm in which all Parts about us shake, When we can hear the Bed beneath us crack. At Gravesend, when we took our last Adieu, The Parting Kiss, remember, I gave you: I, like a shitten Girle, began to cry; I had no mind, methoughts, to say, God b'w'y: I heard Tarpaulins roar out, Hoise up Sail; On Board, on Board; here comes a merry Gale: In such brisk Gales poor Women don't delight, They blow away the Pleasures of the night: As you went off, I could not bear the Loss, A Qualm came o'er my Stomach quite-a-cross: Old Mother Crump, a very subtle Croan, Saw by my Looks that I was almost gon:

A Pint of Brandy presently she brought, And made me drink a very hearty draught; She shew'd her Love, but what great good has't done? How can I live with comfort now you're gone? I wake, and find no Husband by my side; I often think 'twere better I had dy'd: Till you return, I'll ne'er be drest agen; I have not comb'd my Head the Lord knows when: A Glass of Wine sometimes my heart does cherish; Wer't not for that, I fansie I shou'd perish: Because I go so taudry, like a Punk, Some, that don't know me, think that I am drunk: My Neighbours often tell me, Mistress Protes—, You go so strangely, all the Street takes notice! Says one, You do your Husband's Friends disgrace; For shame! Put on a Petticoat with Lace: Why should they think that I would wear a lac'd-coat? When my poor Husband's in a Seaman's wastecoat?

Should I adorn my Head with Curles and Tow∣ers? When a poor Skipper's Cap does cover yours. These Plaguy Dutch; that they should break the Peace, And not submit to us in English Seas: Though, for my own particular, I swear, If I could once again but have you here, Let Dutch have Liberty to fish and foul, I would not care a Farthing, By my Soul. Methinks I see you now, and, by your looks, You are engaging with a Butter box: Methinks just now a Bullet did escape, And hit my Neck, just in the very Nape. But oh! I swoon, when I do think of Trump! His Ship's now giving yours a bloudy Thump! Bless us, said I, Now, you are dispatch'd! That Dog has been at Sea 'fore you were hatch'd: For Heaven's sake avoid him if you can, He's certainly the Devil of a Man!

If any Ship does make up toward you, You may be sure Van-Trump's among the Crew: There's not a Shot does to your Vessel come, But I receive the Pain on't here at home. What am I better if you beat the Dutch, And you come hopping hither on a Crutch? How finely 'mong the Neighbourhood 'twould show▪ To see you strut upon a timber Toe? To rout the Foe is some great Adm'ral's Office, In these Engagements you are but a Novice; Your single Valour's nothing on the Sea, Your Combate should be hand to hand with me. Would I were in the Fleet with Trump or Ruyter, To them I would become an humble Suiter, And point out to them where your Squadron lay▪ Directing them to shoot another way: I'd speak t'em thus; Great Souls of Amsterdam, Pray hear a silly Woman, as I am;

And let your Cannon my poor Husband shun, He knows not to discharge a little Gun: If you were Women, as you're Warlike Men, He would perform great Actions wi' you then: Your Fighting, Skirmishing, and Breaking Bones, Are onely fit for Men that want their Stones. Just as you were commanded to your Ship, Remember, at the Stairs, your Foot did slip; Think on that Slip, and, when the Dutch are shoot∣ing, Duck down your Head, as if you wanted footing; I wish your Captain some great Coward were. And durst not bring the Vessel up for fear: I wish to God he would not fail too fast; You'll come too soon, although you come the last. When you return, they'll ask how Matters stand▪ I hope you'll know no more than we at Land. All the day long I smell no scent but Powder, Each minute Guns go louder off and louder.

Most marry'd Women long till it be night, But, for my part, I hate the thoughts of it; Unless, by chance, I sleep, and dream of you: Fancy's the kinder Husband then o' th' two: And when I wake, and feel the Linnen wet, I find, I've wept for joy upon the Sheet: This to Enjoyment gives but half content; When shall we meet together by consent? Oh, how I long to hear you tell in Bed Some strange Romantick Tale of what you did! But when you find you can't prolong the Jest, And, being at Stand,—kiss out the rest. Against both Wind and Tide why will you go? You'd scarce come home if Wind and Tide said No▪ You fight, methinks, about so mean a thing, Which should have Privilege of catching Ling: Old-Ling I hate worse than a Common Whore; (Would you lov'd Fighting with the Dutch no more:)

I ate it once, and that against my will, And sometimes fancy that I smell no't still. But though thou art expos'd to Seas and Wind, It is some Ease unto my troubled Mind To see thy comely Picture in the Hall, Drawn to the Life with Charcoal on the Wall: I prattle to it as if thou wert here; 'Tis late; Pr'ythee let's go to Bed, my Dear: Methinks thou say'st, I'll humour thee for once; Thou'lt work me at the last to Skin and Bones: I kiss the Wall, and do my Cheeks besmear, And ope my Mouth, as if your Tongue was there. By all the pleasant Postures of Delight, By all the Twines and Circles of the Night, By the First minute of our Nuptial Joys, When you put fairly for a Brace of Boys,

I do conjure you, have a special care, And let not faucy Danger come too near; For when I hear that thou art knock'd o' th' head, I'll hold you ten to one that I am dead.