BOUTS RIMEZ

Our schoolmaster may roar i’ th’ fit,

Of classic beauty, haec et illa;

Not all his birch inspires such wit

As th'ogling beams of Domitilla.

Let nobles toast, in bright champaign,

Nymphs higher born than Domitilla;

I'll drink her health, again, again,

In Berkeley's tar,or sars'parilla.

At Goodman's Fields I've much admired

The postures strange of Monsieur Brilla;

But what are they to the soft step,

The gliding air of Domitilla?

Virgil has eternized in song

The flying footsteps of Camilla;

Sure, as a prophet, he was wrong;

He might have dream'd of Domitilla.

Great Theodose condemn'd a town

For thinking ill of his Placilla:

And deuce take London! if some knight

O’ th’ city wed not Domitilla.

Wheeler,Sir George, in travels wise,

Gives us a medal of Plantilla;

But O! the empress has not eyes,

Nor lips, nor breast, like Domitilla.

Not all the wealth of plunder'd Italy,

Piled on the mules of king At-tila,

Is worth one glove ( I'll not tell a bit a lie )

Or garter, snatch'd from Domitilla.