Ted Walter
Moll's Letter
My Lord,
You have been warned of me. The wretch
doth, it seems to me, complain too much.
Will you take heed of one who seeks to tar
my name and feather me with words like, 'whore'
and 'bawd', writing nothing good? Can you not
recall how nights your wife refused you
put a canker in your soul that would deny
her style, her beauty, features that your eye
had found attractive? Even so this fool
sought to bed me just because my smile
seems to invite men! He will accuse me still
and offer witnesses to every evil
he may dream of, but yet the name of witch
has not occurred to him. Strange, it being much
the best thing that I am. I travel time
and, I can tell you, monstrous lies condemn
me now but in the centuries to come
those who have found fame will be brought down
by their past admirers who will spin
such webs of allegation they confuse
even themselves, and in those far off days
tale-bearers will make use of letters sent
faster than the thoughts they represent,
and rumour, spreading instantaneously,
will feed salacious gossip day by day.
I wish
to share your future with you but the choice,
my lord, is yours. You can listen to the lies,
or send the liar, and all like him, straight to hell.
I await your fond reply,
your loving Moll.
You have been warned of me. The wretch
doth, it seems to me, complain too much.
Will you take heed of one who seeks to tar
my name and feather me with words like, 'whore'
and 'bawd', writing nothing good? Can you not
recall how nights your wife refused you
put a canker in your soul that would deny
her style, her beauty, features that your eye
had found attractive? Even so this fool
sought to bed me just because my smile
seems to invite men! He will accuse me still
and offer witnesses to every evil
he may dream of, but yet the name of witch
has not occurred to him. Strange, it being much
the best thing that I am. I travel time
and, I can tell you, monstrous lies condemn
me now but in the centuries to come
those who have found fame will be brought down
by their past admirers who will spin
such webs of allegation they confuse
even themselves, and in those far off days
tale-bearers will make use of letters sent
faster than the thoughts they represent,
and rumour, spreading instantaneously,
will feed salacious gossip day by day.
I wish
to share your future with you but the choice,
my lord, is yours. You can listen to the lies,
or send the liar, and all like him, straight to hell.
I await your fond reply,
your loving Moll.
Page(s) 35
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