Read Fanny for Free Online Page A

I had lost the Opportunity to discourse with Mr. Pope upon Subjects dearer to my Heart than the Sizes of Masculine Machines. It hath anyway been my Experience, dearest Belinda, that only Fools concern themselves thus with relative Anatomies. ’Tis true there are vast Diff’rences betwixt Men in regard to their am’rous Equipage (which is why Men always wish to be reassur’d to the Contrary), vast Diff’rences betwixt the Pow’rs granted by Venus, and vast Diff’rences betwixt the Native Temperaments granted by their Stars (about all of which I shall have more to say anon), but only Simpletons and Dullards dwell upon these Diff’rences in Size to the Exclusion of other Qualities.
    Some Men have stiff staring Truncheons, red-topp’d, rooted into Thickets of Curls which resemble the jungl’d Shores of the Indies; some have pitiful crooked Members, pale and white as unbak’d Bread; some Men have strange brownish Mushrooms upon bent Stalks; and some have tiny pinkish Things, more like budding Roses than Pricks. Also, nothing in this weary World hath as many divers Names as that commonplace Organ; and you will find that the Name by which a Man calls his own hath much to do with how he regards himself.
    Doth he call it a Batt’ring-Piece? Well then, he will probably lye with you that way. Doth he call it a Bauble? He is probably vain of his Wigs and Waistcoats as well. Doth he call it a Dirk? He is surely a Scotsman, and gloomy ’neath his drunken Bravado. Doth he call it a Flip-Flap? Well then, be advis’d: you will have to work very hard to make it stand (and once standing, ’twill wish for nothing but to lye down again). Doth he call it a Lance-of-Love? Doubtless, he writes dreadful Verses, too. Nor is a Man’s Estimation of his own Privy Member necessarily infallible. The Politician who boasts of his Member-for-Cockshire, the Butcher who praises his Skewer, the Poet who prates of his Picklock, the Actor who loves his Lollipop, the Footman who boasts of his Ramrod, the Parson who praises his Pillicock, the Orator who apotheosizes his Adam’s-Arsenal, the Archer who aims his Love-Dart, the Sea Captain who adores his own Rudder—none of these Men, howsoe’er lively their Mental Parts, is to be trusted upon his own Estimation of his Prowess in the Arts (and Wars) of Love!
    But, as I was saying, no one but a Blockhead dwells upon Anatomy to the Exclusion of other Qualities. The Soul is far more important than the body in ev’ry respect and e’en a Man of Pleasure (if he is also a Man of Parts) understands this.
    Only a Rake cares more for his Privy Member than his Soul, and a Rake, you will find ere long, is the dullest sort of Man. Because he is so devoted to his Masculine Organ, he can think of nothing but finding divers Whores to gratify his Lust for Novelty. He thinks he will find a Woman with a newer, prettier Way of wiggling her Hips, a Whore who knows three score and nine Arabick Love Positions, Tricks with Handkerchiefs, Oils and Salves of the Orient, Bijoux Indiscrets (as the French call ’em), or ivory Toys and Gewgaws from China which are carv’d to resemble Elephant Organs or other Absurdities of that sort. Stay away from such Men. There is no Pleasure to be found in their Company, no Wisdom in their Conversation, no Generosity towards their Mistresses, and before long they will surely give you Pox into the Bargain. A dissolute Footman, a Dancing Master with an Excess of Hubris, a Porter with Delusions of Grandeur, makes a better Rake than a Man of Parts and Breeding, because he hath no Education to cause him a Moment’s Hesitation in his loathsome, ignoble, and degrading Vices; if you let a Rake into your Bed, you will i’faith often find a Footman in the cast-off Clothes of his Lord.
    But to continue with my Tale. I lay abed consid’ring how my Foolish Curiosity (and Mary’s Treachery) had undone my rare Opportunity to discourse with a True Poet upon the Habits and Habitations of the Muses,