( 3 )
I think she was asham'd to have him seen,
(Hard Fate of Husbands) the Gallant had been,
Though a diseas'd hard-favour'd Fool brought in.
Dispatch, says She, your Business you pretend,
That beastly Visit to the drunken Friend:
A Bottle ever makes you look so fine,
Methinks I long to smell you stink of Wine:
Your Country drinking Breath's enough to kill
Sowr Ale corrected with a Lemmon-Pill;
Prithee farewell, we'll meet agen a-non,
The necessary Thing bows, and is gon:
She flies up Stairs, and all the hast does show,
That fifty Antick Postures will allow:
And then bursts out, Dear Madam, am not I
The alter'dst Creature breathing, let me die;
I find my self ridiculously grown
Embarrassè with being out of Town.
Rude and untaught, like any Indian Queen,
My Country-nakedness is strangely seen.
How is Love govern'd? Love that rules the State;
And pray who are the Men most worn of late?
When I was Married, Fools were Al-a-mode,
The Men of Wit were then held Incommode:
Slow of Belief, and fickle in Desire,
Who e're they'll be perswaded, must enquire;
As if they came to spy, not to admire.
With searching Wisdom, fatal to their Ease,
They'll still find out, why what may, should not please:
Nay, take themselves for injur'd, if we dare
Make them think better of us than we are:
And if we hide our Frailties from their Sights,
Call us deceitful Jilts, and Hypocrites.
They little guess who at our Arts are griev'd,
The perfect Joy of being well deceiv'd,
Inquisitive as jealous Cuckolds grow,
Rather than not be knowing, they will know
What being known creates their certain Woe.
Women should these of all Mankind avoid,
For Wonder by clear Knowledge is destroy'd.
Woman who is an arrant Bird of Night,
Bold in the Dusk before a Fool's dull Sight,
Should fly, when Reason brings the Glaring Light.
But the kind easie Fool, apt to Admire
Himself, trusts us; his Follies all conspire
To flatter his, and favour our Desire.
Vain of his proper Merit, he with ease
Believes we love him best, who best can please:
(Hard Fate of Husbands) the Gallant had been,
Though a diseas'd hard-favour'd Fool brought in.
Dispatch, says She, your Business you pretend,
That beastly Visit to the drunken Friend:
A Bottle ever makes you look so fine,
Methinks I long to smell you stink of Wine:
Your Country drinking Breath's enough to kill
Sowr Ale corrected with a Lemmon-Pill;
Prithee farewell, we'll meet agen a-non,
The necessary Thing bows, and is gon:
She flies up Stairs, and all the hast does show,
That fifty Antick Postures will allow:
And then bursts out, Dear Madam, am not I
The alter'dst Creature breathing, let me die;
I find my self ridiculously grown
Embarrassè with being out of Town.
Rude and untaught, like any Indian Queen,
My Country-nakedness is strangely seen.
How is Love govern'd? Love that rules the State;
And pray who are the Men most worn of late?
When I was Married, Fools were Al-a-mode,
The Men of Wit were then held Incommode:
Slow of Belief, and fickle in Desire,
Who e're they'll be perswaded, must enquire;
As if they came to spy, not to admire.
With searching Wisdom, fatal to their Ease,
They'll still find out, why what may, should not please:
Nay, take themselves for injur'd, if we dare
Make them think better of us than we are:
And if we hide our Frailties from their Sights,
Call us deceitful Jilts, and Hypocrites.
They little guess who at our Arts are griev'd,
The perfect Joy of being well deceiv'd,
Inquisitive as jealous Cuckolds grow,
Rather than not be knowing, they will know
What being known creates their certain Woe.
Women should these of all Mankind avoid,
For Wonder by clear Knowledge is destroy'd.
Woman who is an arrant Bird of Night,
Bold in the Dusk before a Fool's dull Sight,
Should fly, when Reason brings the Glaring Light.
But the kind easie Fool, apt to Admire
Himself, trusts us; his Follies all conspire
To flatter his, and favour our Desire.
Vain of his proper Merit, he with ease
Believes we love him best, who best can please:
B
On
