As amorous of her lash. For her own person
It beggared all description; she reclined
Upon those cushions I’ve described before,
And high in front, and round, rose dangerous waves
Of foaming frothy muslin petticoats,
Art’s fancy outworks: in the seat behind her
Sat two quick natty boys, like perky Cupids,
With white pip’d breeches and pale salmon tops,
To guard whose knees a pretty oilskin apron
They both undid and did.