By the Author
SPOKEN BY MRS.BULKLEY
Ladies, for youI heard our poet say
Hed try to coax some moral from his play:
One morals plain,
cried I, without more fuss;
Mans social happiness all rests on us:
Through all the dramawhether damnd
Love gilds the scene, and women guide the plot.
From every rank obedience is our due
doubt?The worlds great stage shall prove it true.
The cit, well skilld to shun domestic strife,
abroad; but first hell ask his wife:
John Trot, his friend, for once will do the same,
But thenhell just step
home to tell his dame.
The surly squire at noon resolves to rule,
And half the dayZounds! madam is a
Convinced at night, the vanquishd victor says,
Ah, Kate! you women have such coaxing ways.
jolly toper chides each tardy blade,
Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid:
Then with each toast he
sees fair bumpers swim,
And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim!
Nay, I have heard that statesmengreat
Will sometimes counsel with a ladys eyes!
The servile suitors watch her various face,
smiles preferment, or she frowns disgrace,
Curtsies a pension herethere nods a place.
Nor with less
awe, in scenes of humbler life,
Is viewd the mistress, or is heard the wife.
The poorest peasant of the
The child of poverty, and heir to toil,
Early from radiant Loves impartial light
Steals one small
spark to cheer this world of night:
Dear spark! that oft through winters chilling woes
Is all the warmth his
little cottage knows!
The wandering tar, who not for years has pressd,
The widowd partner of his day of
On the cold deck, far from her arms removed,
Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved;
around the cadence rude is blown,
The boatswain whistles in a softer tone.
The soldier, fairly proud of
wounds and toil,
Pants for the triumph of his Nancys smile!
But ere the battle should he list her cries,
lover tremblesand the hero dies!
That heart, by war and honour steeld to fear,
Droops on a sigh, and
sickens at a tear!
But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging few,
Who give to beauty only beautys due,
friends to loveye view with deep regret
Our conquests marrd, our triumphs incomplete,
wit more lasting charms disclose,
And judgment fix the darts which beauty throws!
In female breasts did
sense and merit rule,
The lovers mind would ask no other school;
Shamed into sense, the scholars of
Our beaux from gallantry would soon be wise;
Would gladly light, their homage to improve,
lamp of knowledge at the torch of love!
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