lute n.1
1. the vagina.
![]() | Michaelmas Term I i: salewood: [She is] like a lute that has all the strings broke, nobody will meddle with her. rearage: Fie, there are doctors enow in town will string her again, and make her sound as sweet as e’er she did. | |
![]() | Duchess of Malfi II iv: ’Twas just like one That hath a little fingring on the Lute, Yet cannot tune it. | |
![]() | ‘Upon a Courtesan’s Lute’ in | (1969) 176: Pretty lute, when I am gone / Tell thy mistress here was one / That hither came with full intent / To play upon her instrument.|
![]() | Academy of Love 25: [A] ravenous Strumpet, . . . that any one might play upon their virgin string, that harmonious minikin string of her lute, that could but shew his silver pen. | |
![]() | ‘Catalogue of Contented Cuckolds’ Pepys Ballads (1987) IV 130: When I go to the Change, With a Master of Musick my Lady will range, To the Tavern, and thereon her Lute he must play, She may dance, but I’m sure I the Musick must pay. | |
![]() | ‘Musical Couple’ Pepys Ballads (1987) V 202: [She] laid her lute before me ... And bid me play with my own Pen [...] [I] handled her Lute and gave it a touch. | |
![]() | ‘The Old Fumbler’ in Merry Songs and Ballads (1897) I 167: Smug, rich and fantastick old Fumbler was known, / That wedded a Juicy brisk Girl of the Town; / Her Face like an Angel, Fair, Plump, and a Maid, / Her Lute well in Tune too, cou’d he but have plaid. | |
![]() | ‘The Wanton Trick’ in Pills to Purge Melancholy II 93: Her white belly’d Lute she set to his Flute, / Whoop, ’tis but a Wanton Trick. | |
![]() | in Pills to Purge Melancholy II 312: Her Lute well in Tune too, cou’d he have but play’d, / But lost was his Skill, let him do what he can. | |
![]() | Amorous Miller’s Garland 5: By handling her Lute, / he got some content, / But she would not let him play / upon that Instrument. | |
![]() | Honest Fellow [as 1719]. |
2. the penis; thus play a lute solo, to masturbate.
![]() | ‘The Louse’s Pregrination’ in | (1969) 178: For she that is troubled cum gallico morbo / Shall never touch on your lute or theorboe.|
![]() | Tongue Combatants 17: What tho in Dancing I had Skill / And well could Touch the Lute, / Those things converted are to ill / And made of Disrepute. |