The Retort Poem by William Hutton

In native truth be always shewn,
Lest, in disguise, you should be known.

King George the First, as Authors write,
In masquerades took great delight;
For midnight pleasures hither came,
And sent his eye in quest of game.
Beheld a figure 'mongst the rest
With prominence about the breast;
Concluding, though he saw no face,
'A lady must be in the case.'

Urg'd by desire his fingers move,
And press the tempting seat of love;
While smiles conceal'd approach his face--
'Dis, I tink, Madam, von soft place.'
'I know one softer, Sir,' she said.
'Ah vere it is?'--'in the King's head!'