Classic Poem

He is a Parricide to his mothers name,
And with an impious hand murthers her fame,
That wrongs the praise of woemen, that dares write
Libels on Saints, or with foule inke requite
The milk they lent us; Better Sex command
To your defence my more religious hand
At sword, or pen; yours was the nobler birth
For you of man were made, man but of earth,
The sonne of dust; and though your sinne did breed
His fall, again you rais'd him in your seed;
Adam in's sleep a gainfull losse sustain'd
That for one rib a better selfe regain'd.
Who had he not your blest creation seen,
An Anchorite in Paradice had been.
Why in this work did the creation rest
But that eternall providence thought you best
Of all his six dayes labour: beasts should doe
Homage to man, but man should waite on you.
You are of comlier sight, of daintier touch,
A tender flesh, a colour bright, and such
As Parians see in marble, skin more faire,
More glorious head, and farre more glorious haire,
Eyes full of grace, and quicknesse, purer roses
Blush in your cheeks, a milder white composes
Your stately fronts, your breath more sweet then his
Breaths spice, and Nectar drops at every kisse.
Your skins are smooth, bristles on theirs doe grow
Like quills of Porcupins, rough wool doth flow
O're all their faces, you approach more neare
The form of Angels; they like beasts appeare:
If then in bodies where the soules doe dwell
You better us, doe then our soules excell?
No; we in soules equall perfection see
There can in them nor male nor female be.
Boast we of knowledge? You have more then we,
You were the first ventur'd to pluck the tree.
And that more Rhetorick in your tongues doth ly
Let him dispute against that dares deny
Your least commands; and not perswaded be
With Sampsons strength, and Davids pietie,
To be your willing Captives: vertue sure
Were blind as fortune, should she choose the poore
Rough cottage-man to live in, and despise
To dwell in you the stately edifice.
Thus you are prov'd the better sex, and we
Must all repent that in our Pedigree
We choose the fathers name, where should we take
The mothers, a more honour'd blood, 'twould make
Our generation sure and certain be,
And I'de believe some faith in Heraldry!
Thus perfect Creatures if detraction rise
Against you sex, dispute but with your eyes,
Your hand, your lip, your brow, there will be sent
So subtile and so strong an argument
Will teach the Stoick his affection too,
And call the Cinick from his Tub to wooe.
Thus mustring up your beauteous troopes goe on
The fairest is the valiant Amazon .