I am now going to look at anceint greeks fucking

ok. (anthony: i was looking for some pointers from you on an art thread i started early today...)

anthony, have you read Eva Keuls' The Reign of the Phallus?

Ew, can't you go look at some young Greeks?

THOU still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

And so on and so forth. Thought I'd raise the tone a mite bit. Notice Keats was very specific about the "unravished" bit, but very sly in adding "still", so as to keep up the suspense. We know she's got a rodgering coming - complete with "wild ecstasy" (and even "timbrels" for heaven's sake!), but somehow or other we're all still waiting around, twiddling our thumbs and cadging smokes, waiting for the show to start. Clever.

It promises more than it delivers = the secret of burlesque!