"The Fore Room of Love's Treasury" Is Probably among the Top Ten Best 18th-Century Euphemisms

From the eighth edition of Wits academy: or, the muses delight. Being the newest academy of complements. Consisting of merry dialogues upon various occasions, composed of mirth, wit, and eloquence. As also divers sorts of letters upon several occasions, both merry and jocose: helpful for the inexpert to imitate, and pleasant to those of better judgment, at their own leisure to peruse. With a perfect collection of all the newest and best songs and catches, that are and have been in request at Court, and both the Theatres, published in 1701:

Come all you Gallants that live near the Court,
Unto the brisk Dames of the City resort:
There's none of your Misses can show you such sport
As we, who for you complain.

Some of our Husbands do lead such dull Lives,
So plunged in Care, and for Wealth so contrives,
That scarce one Night in ten lie close to their Wives,
Which makes us so much to complain.

Betimes in the Morning abroad they do run,
Leaving their Wives in their Beds alone,
Not minding that Business which should be first done
Which makes us so much to complain.

Though many have Dullards, yet I have got one
That keeps a young Miss who hath his Heart won,
For she sucks the Marrow, and I pick the Bone,
Which makes me full fore to complain.

Since so he disdains me a Miss for to keep,
Soon into the Favour of Gallants I'll creep,
Who shall the Fore room of Love's Treasury sweep,
And then let the Cuckold complain.

I'll buy me new Towers, lac'd Gowns of the best
To the view of kind Lovers lay open my Breast,
So by that they may know my Mind to the rest,
And my Languishing Eyes shall complain.

I care not to tell you the Place where I dwell,
But I go by the Name of Bright Madam Bell,
Because I love Clappers that make me sound well,
Of which I will never complain.

When I by my Art had learnt the right way
With Gallants and Tradesmen to sport and to play,
I'll tell you how many there came in one Day,
And I had no cause to complain.

The first that attempted my Love for to win,
An old Gamester at Court long time he had been,
For he knew the right way to play at In and In,
Who made me leave off to complain.

When from me he went, a Sword-man soon got
A sight of my Face; and if I deny'd not,
He would venture a Pass if he dy'd on the spot,
And I had no cause to complain.

As pretty an Archer as ever had been,
Made me stand for his Butt, and thought it no Sin;
Quite up to the Feathers to shoot his Dart in,
Then I had no cause to complain.

Another brave Archer, a swaggering Spark,
Tho' the Curtains were drawn, and I lay in the dark,
Yet he too such an aim, that he hit the right Mark,
And of him I will never complain.

The next that approach'd was a Surgeon of Spain,
Who drew out his Lancet to open my Vein,
Which neatly he did, and ne'er put me to pain,
And I had no cause to complain.

A very rich Mercant gave me Jewels fine,
With many choice Dainties, and good store of Wine,
To let him once dig in my hidden Mine,
And of which I cannot complain.

My passionate Landlord would not be content,
Until he had gained his Tenants Consent:
He had one Minute's Pleasure for Fifty Weeks Rent;
No Cuckold of that can complain.

A Gentleman came that did once live at Bow,
He out of my Shop vow'd never to go
Until he had been in my Ware-house below,
And of which I could not complain.

A lusty stout Captain laid Siege to my Fort,
For he knew by my Looks that I loved the Sport,
And he had a Gun gave such a Report,
That I could not at all complain.

The last was a Doctor well skill'd in the Law,
I inflamed his Blood, which made him to draw;
But my young Man peep'd through the Key-hole and saw,
Which made me to fear he'd complain.

When his Master, next Morning, was gone to the Strand,
For to make him amends I quickly began
For I let him do as did the last Man;
Then he vow'd he would never complain.

And now to conclude, I bid you all Adieu,
For I never will yield to love above Two,
The Master and Man which my Business can do,
For more I will never complain.

What the hell? This shit reads like Lil' Kim!

Dear past: You remain fucked up. Love, KH.