By All Love's Soft, Yet Mighty Powers

By all love's soft, yet mighty powers,

It is a thing unfit,

That men should fuck in time of flowers,

Or when the smock's beshit.



Fair nasty nymph, be clean and kind,

And all my joys restore;

By using paper still behind,

And sponges for before.



My spotless flames can ne'er decay,

If after every close,

My smoking prick escape the fray,

Without a bloody nose.



If thou would have me true, be wise,

And take to cleanly sinning,

None but fresh lovers' pricks can rise,

At Phyllis in foul linen.

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