’Tis true, I blame your lover’s choice,
Tho’ flatter’d by the public voice,
And peevish grow, and sick, to hear
His exclamations, O how fair!
I listen not to wild delights,
And transports of expected nights;
What is to me your hoard of charms,
The whiteness of your neck and arms?
Needs there no acquisition more,
To keep contention from the door?
Yes! pass a fortnight, and you’ll find
All beauty cloys but of the mind.
Sense and good humour ever prove
The surest cords to fasten love.
Yet, PHILLIS, simplest of your sex,
You never think, but to perplex;
Coquetting it with ev’ry APE,
That struts abroad in human shape;
Not that the coxcomb is your taste,
But that it stings your lover’s breast.
To-morrow you resign the sway,
Prepar’d to honour and obey;
The tyrant-mistress chang’d for life
To the submission of a wife.
Your follies, if you can, suspend,
And learn instructions from a friend.
Reluctant hear the first address,
Think often, ere you answer, yes;
But once resolv’d, throw off disguise,
And wear your wishes in your eyes.
With caution ev’ry look forbear,
That might create one jealous fear,
A lover’s rip’ning hopes confound,
Or give the gen’rous breast a wound;
Contemn the girlish arts to teaze,
Nor use your pow’r unless to please;
For fools alone with rigour sway,
When, soon or late, they must obey.
The KING OF BRUTES, in life’s decline,
Resolv’d dominion to resign;
The beasts were summon’d to appear,
And bend before the royal heir.
They came; a day was fix’d; the crowd
Before their future monarch bow’d.
A dapper MONKEY, pert and vain,
Step’d forth, and thus address’d the train:
Why cringe, my friends, with slavish awe,
Before this pageant king of straw?
Shall we anticipate the hour,
And, ere we feel it, own his pow’r?
The counsels of experience prize,
I know the maxims of the wise;
Subjection let us cast away,
And live the monarchs of to-day;
’Tis ours the vacant hand to spurn,
And play the tyrant each in turn;
So shall he right from wrong discern,
And mercy, from oppression, learn;
At others woes be taught to melt,
And loath the ills himself has felt.
He spoke; his bosom swell’d with pride,
The youthful LION thus reply’d:
What madness prompts thee to provoke
My wrath, and dare th’ impending stroke?
Thou wretched fool! can wrongs impart
Compassion to the feeling heart?
Or teach the grateful breast to glow,
The hand to give, or eye to flow?
Learn’d in the practice of their schools,
From woman thou hast drawn thy rules;
To them return, in such a cause,
From only such expect applause;
The partial sex I don’t condemn,
For liking those who copy them.
Would’st thou the gen’rous LION bind,
By kindness bribe him to be kind;
Good offices their likeness get,
And payment lessens not the debt:
With multiplying hand he gives
The good from others he receives;
Or for the bad makes fair return,
And pays, with int’rest, scorn for scorn. |
