Now that's what I call a big pair

Fanny Hill (Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure)

Letter The First

The first sight that struck me was Mr. H . . . pulling and hauling this coarse country strammel towards a couch that stood in a corner of the dining room; to which the girl made only a sort of awkward boidening resistance, crying out so loud, that I, who listened at the door, could scarce hear her: "Pray sir, don't . . . , let me alone . . . I am not for your turn . . . You cannot, sure, demean yourself with such a poor body as I . . . Lord! Sir, my mistress may come home . . . I must not indeed . . . I will cry out . . ." All of which did not hinder her from insensibly suffering herself to be brought to the foot of the couch, upon which a push of no mighty violence serv'd to give her a very easy fall, and my gentleman having got up his hands to the strong-hold of her VIRTUE, she, no doubt, thought it was time to give up the argument, and that all further defense would be in vain: and he, throwing her petticoats over her face, which was now as red as scarlet, discover'd a pair of stout, plump, substantial thighs, and tolerably white; he mounted them round his hips, and coming out with his drawn weapon, stuck it in the cloven spot, where he seem'd to find a less difficult entrance than perhaps he had flatter'd himself with (for, by the way, this blouze had left her place in the country, for a bastard), and, indeed, all his motions shew'd he was lodg'd pretty much at large. After he had done, his DEAREE gets up, drops her petticoats down, and smooths her apron and handkerchief. Mr. H . . . look'd a little silly, and taking out some money, gave it her, with an air indifferent enough, bidding her be a good girl, and say nothing.

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