An elderly lady, whose bulky, squat figure

An elderly Lady, whose bulky, squat figure,
By hoop and white damask was render’d much bigger,
One sun-shiny day to the Fleet did repair,
To shew her fine dress, ’mong the Beaux of the Bare.
Her mien and behaviour, so awkard [sic] and queer,
Caus’d much admiration, but ’twas with a sneer.
At length the sly gibers burst into loud laughter;
Away waddled Madam — and they hurry’d after.
To recover her fan dropt in anger and haste,
She stoop’d down, and let fly a loud pestilent blast.
All stopp’d short in surprize, not expecting behind
Such a poisonous shaft of the Parthian kind.
Swell open the door, cries out one of the crowd:
Shut it close; Lock it fast; cries another more loud.
Says a third, Stop the key-hole, when away you have
           sent her,
Lest in fumes like the present, her sprite should re-enter.
Tho’ the scent still remains, yet the game you can’t follow:
She came in with a hoop, and went out with a hollow.