For which the dames, in contemplation
Of that best way of application,
Prov'd nobler wives than e'er were known,
By fuit, or treaty, to be won;
And fuch as all posterity

Cou'd never equal, nor come nigh.

For women first were made for men,
Not men for them. It follows, then,
"I hat men have right to every one,
And they no freedom of their own;
And therefore men have pow'r'to choose,
But they no charter to refuse.
Hence 'tis apparent that, what course
Soe'er we take to your amours,
Though by the indirectest way,
'Tis no injuftice nor foul play;

And that you ought to take that course,
As we take you, for better or worse,
And gratefully fubmit to thofe
Who you, before another, chose,
For why fhou'd every favage beaft
Exceed his great Lord's interest?
Have freer pow'r than he, in Grace
And Nature, o'er the crcature has?
Because the laws he fince has made
Have cut off all the pow'r he had;
Retrench'd the abfolute dominion
That Nature gave him over women;
When all his power will not extend
One law of Nature to fufpend;
And but to offer to repeal
The smallest claufe, is to repel.
This, if men rightly understood

Their privilege, they wou'd make good,
And not, like fots, permit their wives
T'encroach on their prerogatives;
For which fin they deferve to be
Kept, as they are, in flavery:

And this fome precious gifted Teachers,
Unrev'rently reputed Leachers,
And difobey'd in making love,

Have vow'd to all the world to prove,
And make ye fuffer as you ought,
For that uncharitable fault:
But I forget myself, and rove
Beyond th' inftructions of my love,
Forgive me, Fair, and only blame
Th' extravagancy of my flame,
Since 'tis too much at once to fhew
Excefs of love and temper too;
All I have faid that 's bad and true,
Was never meant to aim at you,
Who have fo fovereign a control
O'er that poor flave of your's, my foul,
That, rather than to forfeit you,
Has ventur'd lofs of heav'n too;
Both with an equal pow'r poffeft,
To render all that serve
you bleft;

But none like him, who 's deftin'd either
To have or lofe you both together;
And if you'll but this fault releafe,
(For fo it must be, fince you picafe)
I'll pay down all that vow, and more,
Which you commanded, and I fwore,

And expiate, upon my fkin,
Th' arrears in full of all my fin;
For 'tis but just that I fhould pay
Th' accruing penance for delay,
Which fhall be done, until it move
Your equal pity and your love.

The Knight, perufing this Epiftle, Believ'd he 'ad brought her to his whistle, And read it, like a jocund lover,

With great applause, t' himself, twice over;
Subfcrib'd his name, but at a fit
And humble distance, to his wit,
And dated it with wond'rous art,
Giv'n from the bottom of his heart
Then feal'd it with his coat of love,
A fmoking faggot-and above,
Upon a fcroll-I burn, and weep,
And near it-For her Ladyship,
Of all her fex most excellent,
Thefe to her gentle hands prefent;
Then gave it to his faithful Squire,
With leffons how t' obferve and eye her.

She first confidered which was better,
To fend it back, or burn the letter:
But guefling that it might import,
Though nothing elfe, at leaft her fport,
She open'd it, and read it out,
With many a fimile and leering flout;
Refolv'd to answer it in kind,

And thus perform'd what the defign'd.

THAT

THE LADY'S ANSWER

TO THE KNIGHT.

HAT you're a beast, and turn'd to grafs,
Is no ftrange news, nor ever was,
At least to me, who once, you know,
Did from the pond replevin you,
When both your fwerd and fpurs were won
In combat by an Amazon;

That fword that did, like Fate, determine
Th' inevitable death of vermine,
And never dealt its furious blows,
But cut the throats of pigs and cows,
By Trulla was, in fingle fight,
Difarm'd and wrefted from its Knight,
Your heels degraded of your fpurs,
And in the ftocks clofe prifoners,
Where ftill they 'ad lain, in base refraint,
If I, in pity' of your complaint,
Had not, on hon'rable conditions,
Releas'd them from the wort of prifons;
And what return that favour met
You cannot (though you wou'd) forget;
When, being free, you strove t' evade
The oaths you had in prifon made;
Ferfwore yourfelf, and firft deny'd it,
But after own'd, and juftify'd it,
And when ye 'ad faifely broke one vow,"
Abfolv'd yourself by breaking two :

For while you sneakingly submit,
And beg for pardon at our feet,
Difcourag'd by your guilty fears,
To hope for quarter for your ears,
And doubting 'twas in vain to fue,
You claim us boldly as your due,
Declare that treachery and force,
To deal with us, is th' only course;
We have no title nor pretence
To body, foul or confcience,
But ought to fall to that man's share
That claims us for his proper ware:
Thefe are the motives which, t' induce,
Or fright us into love, you use ;
A pretty new way of gallanting,
Between foliciting and ranting;
Like sturdy beggars, that entreat
For charity at once, and threat.
But fince you undertake to prove
Your own propriety in love,
As if we were but lawful prize
In war between two enemies,
Or forfeitures, which ev'ry lover,

'That would but fue for, might recover, It is not hard to understand

The myfl'ry of this bold demand,
That cannot at our perfons aim,
But fomething capable of claim.

"Tis not thofe paltry counterfeit French ftones, which in our eyes you fet, But our right diamonds, that infpire And fet your am'rous hearts on fire; Nor can thofe falfe St. Martin's beads Which on our lips you lay for reds, And make us wear, like Indian Dames, Add fuel to your fcorching flames, But thofe true rubies of the rock, Which in our cabinets we lock. 'Tis not thofe orient pearls, our teeth, That you are fo tranfported with, But those we wear about our necks, Produce thofe amorous effects. Nor is 't thofe threads of gold, our hair, The periwigs you make us wear, But thofe bright guineas in our chefts, That light the wildfire in your breafts. Theie lovetricks I've been vers'd in fo, That all their fly intrigues I know, And can unriddle, by their tones, Their myftic cabals, and jargons; Can tell what paflions, by their founds, Pine for the beauties of my grounds; What raptures fond and amorous, O' th' charms and graces of my house; What ecftacy and scorching flame, Burns for my money in my name; What, from th' unnatural defire To beafts and cattle, takes its fire; What tender figh, and trickling tear, Longs for a thousand pounds a-year; And languifping transports are fond Of ftatute, mortgage, bill, and bond. Thefe are th' attacks which moft men fall Enamour'd, at first fight, withal,

To these they' address with ferenades,
And court with balls and masquerades;
And yet, for all the yearning pain
Ye've fuffer'd for their loves in vain,
I fear they'll prove fo nice and coy,
To have, and t hold, and to enjoy ;
That, all your oaths and labour loft,
They'll ne'er turn Ladies of the Post.
This is not meant to difapprove
Your judgment, in your choice of love,
Which is fo wife, the greateft part
Of mankind study 't as an art;
For love thou'd, like a deodand,
Still fall to th' owner of the land;

And, where there's fubftance for its ground,
Cannot but be more firm and found,
Than that which has the flighter bafis
Of airy virtue, wit and graces,
Which is of fuch thin fubtlety,
It steals and creeps in at the eye,
And, as it can't endure to stay,
Steals out again as nice a way.

But love, that its extraction owns
From folid gold and precious ftones,
Muft, like its fhining parents, prove
As folid, and as glorious love.
Hence 'tis you have no way t' exprefs
Our charms and graces but by these ;
For what are lips, and eyes, and teeth,
Which beauty' invades and conquers with
But rubies, pearls, and diamonds,
With which a philtre love commands?

This is the way all parents prove
In managing their children's love,
That force them t' intermarry and wed,
As if th' were burying of the dead;
Caft earth to earth, as in the grave,
To join in wedlock all they have,
And, when the fettlement's in force;
Take all the reft for better or worse;
For money has a pow'r above
The stars, and fate, to manage love,
Whose arrows, learned poets hold,
That never miss, are tip'd with gold.
And though fome fay the parents' claims
To make love in their children's names,
Who, many times, at once provide
The nurse, the husband, and the bride,
Feel darts, and charms, attracts, and flames,
And woo and contract in their names,
And as they chriften, use to marry 'em,
And, like their goffips, anfwer for 'em,
Is not to give in matrimony,

But fell and prostitute for money,
"Tis better than their own betrothing,
Who often do 't for worse than nothing;
And when they're at their own difpofe,
With greater disadvantage choose.
All this is right; but, for the course
You take to do 't, by fraud or force,
'Tis fo ridiculous, as foon

As told, 'tis never to be done,
No more than fetters can betray,
ihat tell what tricks they are to play.

Marriage, at beft, is but a vow,
Which all men either break, or bow;
Then what will those forbear to do,
Who perjure when they do but woo?
Such as beforehand fwear and lie,
For earnest to their treachery,
And, rather than a crime confefs,
With greater strive to make it lefs:
Like thieves, who, after sentence past,
Maintain their inn'cence to the last;

And when their crimes were made appear,
As plain as witnesses can swear,
Yet when the wretches come to die,
Will take upon their death a lie.
Nor are the virtues you confefs'd

T'

your ghoftly father, as you guefs'd, So flight as to be justify'd,

By being as fhamefully deny'd;

Asif you thought your word would pass,
Point-blank, on both sides of a cafe ;
Or credit were not to be loft

B' a brave Knight-errant of the Post,
That eats perfidiously his word,

And swears his ears through a two-inch board;
Can own the fame thing, and disown,
And perjure booty pro and con;
Can make the Gofpel ferve his turn,
And help him out, to be forefworn;
When 'tis laid hands upon, and kist,
To be betray'd and fold, like Christ.
Thefe are the virtues in whose name
A right to all the world you claim,
And boldly challenge a dominion,
In Grace and Nature, o'er all women;
iOf whom no lefs will fatisfy,

Than all the fex, your tyranny :
Although you'll find it a hard province,
With all your crafty frauds and covins,
To govern fuch a numerous crew,
Who, one by one, now govern you;
For if you all were Solomons,
And wife and great as he was once,
You'll find they're able to fubdue
(As they did him) and baffle you.
And if you are impos'd upon,
'Tis by your own temptation done,
That with your ignorance invite,
And teach us how to use the flight;
For when we find ye 're ftill more taken
With falfe attracts of our own making,
Swear that's a rofe, and that's a stone,
Like fots, to us that laid it on,
And what we did but flightly prime,
Moft ignorantly daub in rhyme,
You force us, in our own defences,
To copy beams and influences;
To lay perfections on the graces,
And draw attracts upon our faces,
And, in compliance to your wit,
Your own falfe jewels counterfeit;
For by the practice of those arts
We gain a greater fhare of hearts;
And thofe deferve in reafon most,
That greatest pains and study coft:

For great perfections are, like heav'n,
Too rich a prefent to be giv'n.
Nor are those master-ftrokes of beauty
To be perform'd without hard duty,
Which, when they 're nobly done, and well,
The fimple natural excel.

How fair and fweet the planted rofe
Beyond the wild in hedges grows!
For, without art, the nobleft feeds
Of flow'rs degen'rate into weeds:
How dull and rugged, e'er 'tis ground,
And polish'd, looks a diamond?
Though Paradise were e'er so fair,
It was not kept fo without care.
The whole world, without art and dress,
Wou'd be but one great wilderness;
And mankind but a favage herd,
For all that Nature has conferr'd:
This does but rough-hew and defign,
Leaves Art to polish and refine.
Though women first were made for men,
Yet men were made for them agen:
For when (outwitted by his wife)
Man first turn'd tenant but for life,
If women had not interven'd,
How foon had mankind had an end!
And that it is in being yet,
To us alone you are in debt.
And where's your liberty of choice,
And our unnatural No-voice?
Since all the privilege you boaft,
And falfely ufurp'd, or vainly loft,
Is now our right, to whofe creation
You owe your happy restoration.
And if we had not weighty cause
To not appear, in making laws,
We cou'd in spite of all your tricks,
And fhallow formal politics,

Force you our managements t' obey,
As we to yours (in fhew) give way.
Hence 'tis that, while you vainly strive
T' advance your high prerogative,
You bafely, after all your braves,
Submit and own yourselves our flaves;
And 'cause we do not make it known,
Nor publicly our int'refts own,
Like fots, fuppofe we have no shares
In ord'ring you, and your affairs,
When all your empire and command
You have from us, at fecond-hand;
As if a pilot that appears
To fit ftill only, while he fteers,
And does not make a noife and stir,
Like ev'ry common mariner,
Knew nothing of the card, nor flar,
And did not guide the man of war:
Nor we, because we don't appear
In Councils, do not govern there;
While, like the mighty Prefter John *,
Whofe perfon none dares look upon,
But is preferv'd in clofe difguife,
From b'ing made cheap to vulgar eyes,

W enjoy as large a pow'r, unfeen,
To govern him, as he does men ;
And, in the right of our Pope Joan,
Make emp'rors at our feet fall down;
Or Joan de Pucelle's braver name,
Our right to arms and conduct claim;
Who, though a fpinfter, yet was able
To ferve France for a Grand Conftable.
We make and execute all laws,
Can judge the judges, and the Cause;
Prefcribe all rules of right or wrong,
To th' long robe, and the longer tongue,
'Gainst which the world has no defence,
But our more pow'rful eloquence.
We manage things of greateft weight
In all the world's affairs of ftate;
Are ministers of war and peace,

That fway all nations how we please.
We rule all churches, and their flocks,
Heretical and orthodox,
And are the heav'nly vehicles
O' th' fpirits in ali Conventicles;
By us is all commerce and trade
Improv'd, and manag'd, and decay'd;
For nothing can go off fo well,
Nor bears that price, as what we fell.
We rule in ev'ry public meeting,
And make men do what we judge fitting;
Are magiftrates in all great towns,
Where men do nothing but wear gowns.
We make the man of war ftrike fail,
And to our braver conduct veil,
And, when he 'as chas'd his enemies,
Submit to us upon his knees.
Is there an officer of ftate,
Untimely rais'd, or magistrate,
That's haughty and imperious?
He's but a journeyman to us,
That, as he gives us caufe to do 't,
Can keep him in, or turn him out.

We are your guardians, that increase,
Or waste your fortunes how we please;
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your matters, ill or well.

"Tis we that can dispose, alone,
Whether your heirs fhall be your own,
To whofe integrity you muit,
In spite of all your caution, trust;
And 'lefs you fly beyond the feas,
Can fit you with what heirs we please;

And force you t' own them though begotten
By French valets, or Irish footmen,

Nor can the rigoroufest courfe
Prevail, unlefs to make us worse;
Who ftill the harfher we are us'd,
Are further off from b'ing reduc'd,
And scorn t' abate, for any ills,
The leaft punctilios of our wills.
Force does but whet our wits t' apply
Arts, born with us, for remedy,
Which all your politics, as yet,
Have ne'er been able to defeat:
For, when ye 've try'd all forts of ways,
What fools do we make of you in plays?
While all the favours we afford,

Are but to girt you with the fword,
To fight our battles in our steads,
And have your brains beat out o' your heads;
Encounter, in defpite of Nature,

And fight, at once, with fire and water,
With pirates, rocks, and ftorms, and feas,
Our pride and vanity t' appeafe;

Kill one another, and cut throats,

For our good graces, and beft thoughts;

To do your exercife for honcur,

And have your brains beat out the fooner;
Or crack'd, as learnedly, upon

Things that are never to be known;
And ftill appear the more induftrious,

The more your projects are prepoft'rous;
To fquare the circle of the arts,

And run ftark mad to fhew your parts;

Expound the oracle of laws,

And turn them which way we see cause ;
Be our folicitors and agents,
And ftand for us in all engagements.

And thefe are all the mighty pow'rs
You vainly boast to cry down ours,
And what in real value 's wanting,
Supply with vapouring and ranting.
Because yourselves are terrify'd,
And stoop to one another's pride,
Believe we have as little wit
To be out-hector'd, and fubmit:
By your example, lose that right
In treaties which we gain'd in fight;
And territy'd into an awe,
Paf on ourselves a Salique law;
Or, as fome nations ufe, give place,
And truckle to your mighty race:
Let men ufurp th' unjust dominion,
As if they were the better women.

A LEARN'D fociety of late,
The glory of a foreign state,
Agreed, upon a fummer's night,

To fearch the Moon by her own light;
To take an invent'ry of all

Her real estate, and personal;
And make an accurate furvey

Of all her lands, and how they lay,
As true as that of Ireland, where
The fly furveyors stole a fhire :

T' obferve her country how 'twas planted,
With what fh' abounded moft, or wanted;
And make the proper'ft obfervations
For fettling of new plantations,
If the Society fhou'd incline
T'attempt fo glorious a defign.

This was the purpose of their meeting,
For which they chose a time as fitting,
When, at the full, her radiant light
And influence too were at their height.
And now the lofty tube, the fcale
With which they heav'n itself affail,
Was mounted full against the Moon,
And all stood ready to fall on,
Impatient who fhould have the honour
To plant an enfign first upon her.

When one, who for his deep belief
Was virtuofo then in chief,
Approv'd the most profound, and wife,
To folve impoffibilities,
Advancing gravely, to apply

To th' optic glafs his judging eye,

1

*This Poem was intended by the Author for a fatire upon the Royal Society, which, according to his opinion at least, ran too much at that time into the virtuon taite, and a whimfical fondness for furprising and wonderful itories in natural litory.

Cry'd, Strange!-then reinforc'd his fight
Against the Moon with all his might,
And bent his penetrating brow,
As if he meant to gaze her through:
When all the reft began t' admire,
And, like a train, from him took fire,
Surpris'd with wonder, beforehand,
At what they did not understand,
Cry'd out, impatient to know what
The matter was they wonder'd at.

Quoth he, Th' inhabitants o' th' Moon,
Who, when the fun fhines hot at noon,
Do live in cellars under ground,

Of eight miles deep, and eighty round,
(In which at once they fortify
Against the fun and th' enemy)
Which they count towns and cities there,
Because their people's civiller

Than those rude peasants that are found
To live upon the upper ground,
Call'd Privolvans, with whom they are
Perpetually in open war;

And now both armies, highly enrag'd,
Are in a bloody fight engag'd,
And many fall on both fides flain,
As by the glafs 'tis clear and plain.
Look quickly then, that every one
May fee the fight before 'tis done.

With that a great philofopher,
Admir'd, and famous, far and near,
As one of fingular invention,
But univerfal comprehenfion,
Apply'd one eye, and half a nofe,
Unto the optic engine clofe:
For he had lately undertook
To prove, and publish in a book,
That men, whofe nat'ral eyes are out,
May, by more pow'rful art, be brought,