WRITTEN BY SIR SAMUEL GARTH.
HAT odd fantastic things we women do !
Who would not listen when young lovers woo?
But die a maid, yet have the choice of two !
Ladies are often cruel to their colt:
To give you pain, themselves they punish most.
Vows of virginity should well be weigh’d;
Too oft they're cancel'd, though in convents made.
Would you revenge such rafh resolves---you may
Be spiteful---and believe the thing we say,
We hate you when you're easily said nay.
How needless, if
us, were your fears !
Let love have eyes, and beauty will have ears.
Qur hearts are form'd as you yourselves would chuse,
Too proud to ask, too humble to refuse :
We give to merit, and to wealth we sell :
He sighs with most success that settles well.
The woes of wedlock with the joys we mix:
'Tis best repenting in a coach and fix.
Blame not our conduct, since we but pursue
Those lively lessons we have learnt from you.
Your breasts no more the fire of beauty warms,
But wicked wealth usurps the power of charms.