Here you will find the Poem Madam Gabrina, Or the Ill-favourd Choice of poet Henry King
Con mala Muger el remedio Mucha Tierra por el medio. I have oft wondred why thou didst elect Thy Mistress of a stuff none could affect, That wore his eyes in the right place. A thing Made up, when Natures powers lay slumbering. One, where all pregnant imperfections met To make her sexes scandal: Teeth of jet, Hair dy'd in Orpment, from whose fretful hew Canidia her highest Witch-crafts drew. A lip most thin and pale, but such a mouth Which like the Poles is stretched North and South. A face so colour'd, and of such a form, As might defiance bid unto a storm: And the complexion of her sallow hide Like a wrack't body washt up by the Tyde: Eyes small: a nose so to her vizard glew'd As if 'twould take a Planets altitude. Last for her breath, 'tis somewhat like the smell That does in Ember weeks on Fishstreet dwell; Or as a man should fasting scent the Rose Which in the savoury Bear-garden growes. If a Fox cures the Paralyticall, Had'st thou ten Palsies, she'd out-stink them all. But I have found thy plot: sure thou did'st trie To put thy self past hope of jealousie: And whil'st unlearned fools the senses please, Thou cur'st thy appetite by a disease; As many use to kill an itch withall, Quicksilver or some biting Minerall. Dote upon handsome things each common man With little study and less labour can; But to make love to a Deformity, Onely commends thy great ability, Who from hard-favour'd objects draw'st content, As Estriches from iron nutriment. Well take her, and like mounted George, in bed Boldly archieve thy Dragons Maiden-head: Where (though scarce sleep) thou mayst rest confident None dares beguile thee of thy punishment: The sin were not more foul he should commit, Then is that She with whom he acted it. Yet take this comfort: when old age shall raze, Or sickness ruine many a good face, Thy choice cannot impair; no cunning curse Can mend that night-peece, that is, make her worse.