Aphra Behn
A Letter to the Earl of Kildare, dissuading him from marrying Moll Howard
In the 13th edition of Equinox, we invited your response
to any aspect of the following poem:
My Lord,
There's a report, which round the Town is spread,
The famed Moll Howard you intend to wed;
If it be true, my Lord, then guard your head:
Horns, horns, by wholesale, will adorn your brows,
If e'er you make that rampant whore your spouse.
Think on the lewd debauches of her life;
Then tell me, if she's fit to be your wife.
She that to quench her lustful, hot desire,
Has kissed with dukes, lords, knights, and country squire;
Nay, grooms and footmen have been clawed off by her.
Whoring has all her life-time been her trade,
And D-set says, she is an exc'llent bawd:
But finding both will not defray expense,
She lately is become an evidence;
Swears against all that won't her lust supply,
And says, they're false as Hell to monarchy.
You had a wife; but, rest her soul, she's dead,
By whom your Lordship by the nose was led:
And will you run into that noose again,
To be the greatest monster among men?
Think on the horns that will adorn your head,
And the diseases that will fill your bed:
Pox upon pox, most horrid and most dire!
And ulcers filled with Hell's eternal fire,
Forbear therefore, and call your senses home;
Let reason love's blind passion overcome:
For, if you make this base report once true,
You'll wound your honour, purse, and body too.
to any aspect of the following poem:
My Lord,
There's a report, which round the Town is spread,
The famed Moll Howard you intend to wed;
If it be true, my Lord, then guard your head:
Horns, horns, by wholesale, will adorn your brows,
If e'er you make that rampant whore your spouse.
Think on the lewd debauches of her life;
Then tell me, if she's fit to be your wife.
She that to quench her lustful, hot desire,
Has kissed with dukes, lords, knights, and country squire;
Nay, grooms and footmen have been clawed off by her.
Whoring has all her life-time been her trade,
And D-set says, she is an exc'llent bawd:
But finding both will not defray expense,
She lately is become an evidence;
Swears against all that won't her lust supply,
And says, they're false as Hell to monarchy.
You had a wife; but, rest her soul, she's dead,
By whom your Lordship by the nose was led:
And will you run into that noose again,
To be the greatest monster among men?
Think on the horns that will adorn your head,
And the diseases that will fill your bed:
Pox upon pox, most horrid and most dire!
And ulcers filled with Hell's eternal fire,
Forbear therefore, and call your senses home;
Let reason love's blind passion overcome:
For, if you make this base report once true,
You'll wound your honour, purse, and body too.
Aphra Behn (1640 -89)
Page(s) 34
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