Classic Poem

True woman to the last—my peroration
I come to speak in spight of suffocation;
To shew the present and the age to come,
We may be choak'd, but never can be dumb
Well now methinks I see you all run out,
And haste away to Lady Bragwell's rout;
Each modish sentiment to hear and weigh,
Of those who nothing think, and all things say.
Prudella first in parody begins,
(For Nonsense and Buffoonery are twins)
“Can beaux the court for theatres exchange?
I swear by Heaven 'tis strange, 'tis passing strange;
And very whimsical, and mighty dull,
And pitiful, and wond'rous pitiful.
I wish I had not heard it ”—Blessed dame!
Whene'er she speaks her audience wish the same.
Next Neddy Nicely—“Fye, O fye, good lack,
A nasty man to make his face all black.”
Then Lady Stiffneck shews her pious rage,
And wonders we shou'd act—upon a stage
“Why Ma'me”, says Coquetilla, “a disgrace?
Merit in any form may shew her face;
In this dull age the male things ought to play,
To teach them what to do, and what to say.”
In short, they all with different cavils cram us,
And only are unanimous to damn us .
But still there are a fair judicious few,
Who judge unbias'd, and with candour view;
Who value honesty, tho' clad in buff,
And wit, tho' dress'd in an old English ruff.
Behold them here—I beaming sense descry,
Shot from the living lustre of each eye.
Such meaning smiles each blooming face adorn,
As deck the pleasure-painted brow of morn;
And shew the person of each matchless fair,
Tho' rich to rapture, and above compare,
Is, even with all the skill of heaven design'd,
But an imperfect image of their mind;
While chastity unblemish'd and unbrib'd
Adds a majestick mien that scorns to be describ'd:
Such (we will vaunt) and only such as these,
'Tis our ambition, and our fame to please.