[print edition page number: 325]

Lady Mary Chudleigh

The Ladies’ Defense: or, The Bride-Woman’s Counselor Answered. A Poem in a Dialogue Between Sir John Brute, Sir William Loveall, Melissa, and a Parson (1701)^[1]

Sir John:^[2] Welcome, thou brave defender of our right.
Till now, I thought you knew not how to write.
Dull heavy morals did your pens employ,
And all your business was to pall our joy;
With frightful tales our ears you still did grate,                 5
And we with awful reverence heard you prate;^[3]
Heard you declaim on vice, and blame the times,
Because we impudently shared your crimes,
Those darling sins you wholly would engross.
And when disturbed, and fretting at your loss,                10
With whining tones, and a pretended zeal,
Saw you the rancor of your minds reveal.
Till now, none of your tribe were ever kind;
Good humor is alone to you confined;
You, who against those terrors of our lives,                       15
Those worst of plagues, those Furies^[4] called our wives,
Have shown your anger in a strain divine;
Resentment sparkles in each poignant line.
Sure you’ve the fate of wretched husbands met,
And ’tis your own misfortune you regret;                           20
You could not else with such a feeling sense [326]
Expatiate in each fault, and blazon each offense.^[5]
How happy, O Sir William, is your life!
You have not known the trouble of a wife.
Your rural cares you undisturbed can mind,                      25
And ’midst your brutal subjects^[6] pleasure find.
Your snowy flocks you with delight can view:
They are both innocent, and pretty, too.
And when from business you your thoughts unbend,
You can with joy the noble chase attend,                           30
Or when you please drink freely with a friend.
No frowning female stands observing by;
No children fright you with their hideous cry;
None dare contend, none your commands dispute;
You, like the Great Mogul,^[7] are absolute,                        35
Supreme in all things, from our slavery free,
And taste the sweets of envied liberty.

Sir William: The beauteous sex I ever did revere,
And can’t with patience these reflections hear.
To them I’ve long a constant homage paid,                      40
And with delight each charming face surveyed.
I’ve had of mistresses a numerous store —
The famed Anacreon^[8] could not boast of more.
Yet each was good, each with perfections blest,
And each by turns has triumphed in my breast. [327]       45
That I’m unmarried is my fate, not choice:
I in a happy bondage should rejoice,
And thank my stars, if they would yet incline
Some lovely she to be forever mine.
Then wonder not to hear me take their part,                     50
And plead for the dear idols of my heart.
Spiteful invectives should no patrons find —
They are the shame and venom of the mind.

Parson: Not led by passion, but by zeal inspired,
I’ve told the women what’s of them required;                   55
Showed them their duty in the clearest light,
Adorned with all the charms that could invite;
Taught them their husband to obey and please,
And to their humors^[9] sacrifice their ease;
Give up their reason, and their wills resign,                      60
And every look, and every thought confine.
Sure this “detraction” you can’t justly call?
’Tis kindly meant, and ’tis addressed to all.

Melissa: Must men command, and we alone obey,
As if designed for arbitrary sway:                                          65
Born petty monarchs, and, like Homer’s gods,
See all subjected to their haughty nods?^[10]
Narcissus-like,^[11] you your own graces view,
Think none deserve to be admired by you.
Your own perfections always you adore,                             70
And think all others despicably poor.
We have our faults, but you are all divine;
Wisdom does in your meanest actions shine:
Just, pious, chaste, from every passion free,
By learning raised above humanity.                                     75
For every failure you a covering find:
Rage is a noble bravery of mind;
Revenge a tribute due to injured fame;
And pride but what transcendent worth does claim; [328]
Cowards are wary, and the dull are grave;                          80
Fops are genteel, and hectoring bullies brave;
Such as live high, regardless of expense,
Are generous men and ever blessed with sense;
Base avarice frugality you call,
And he’s a prudent man who grasps at all —                    85
Who to be rich, does labor, cheat, and lie,
Does to himself the sweets of life deny,
And wretched lives, that he may wealthy die.
Thus to each vice you give some specious name,
And with bright colors varnish o’er your shame.             90
But unto us is there no defense due?
Must we pay all, and look for none from you?
Why are not husbands taught as well as we?
Must they from all restraints, all laws, be free?
Passive obedience you’ve to us transferred,                        95
And we must drudge in paths where you have erred.
That antiquated doctrine you disown;
’Tis now your scorn, and fit for us alone.

Parson: Love and respect are, I must own, your due,
But not till there’s obedience paid by you.                       100
Submission and a studious care to please
May give a right to favors great as these.
But if subjection is by you denied,
You’ll fall the unpitied victims of your pride.
We then all husband justly may appear,                           105
And talk and frown till we have taught you fear.

Sir John: Yes, as we please, we may our wives chastise —
’Tis the prerogative of being wise.
They are but fools, and must as such be used.
Heaven! How I blush to see our power abused,             110
To see men dote upon a female face,
And all the manly roughness of their sex disgrace!

Melissa: Not thus you talked when you “Lenera” loved;
By softer passion, sure, your soul was moved;
Then at her feet, false man, you flattering lay,                115
And prayed, and vowed, and sighed your hours away;
Admired her face, her shape, her mien, her air,
And swore that none was so divinely fair;
None had such charms, none else the wonderous art
To gain th’ entire possession of your heart.                     120
Having expended your whole stock of sense,
And quite exhausted all your eloquence,
When not one phrase was left of all your store, [329]
Ashamed to have it known you were so poor,
You made your silence want of words supply                 125
And looked as if your love would make you die;
Showed all your art, your native guile displayed,
And gazed till you had won the thoughtless maid.

Sir John: I loved her till to her I was confined.
But who can long to what’s his own be kind?                 130
Plagues seize the wretch who tied the cursèd knot —
Let him be damned, eternally forgot.

Melissa: There spoke the husband; all the fiend revealed.
Your passion utters what’s by most concealed.
O that my sex safe infidels^[12] would live,                        135
And no more credit to your flatteries give;
Mistrust your vows, despise your little arts;
And keep a constant guard upon our hearts.
Unhappy they, who, by their duty led,
Are made the partners of a hated bed,                              140
And, by their fathers’ avarice or pride,
To empty fops or nauseous clowns^[13] are tied;
Or else constrained to give up all their charms
Into an old, ill-humored husband’s arms,
Who hugs his bags and never was inclined                      145
To be to ought besides his money kind.
On that he dotes, and to increase his wealth
Would sacrifice his conscience, ease, and health,
Give up his children, and devote his wife,
And live a stranger to the joys of life;                                150
Who’s always positive in what is ill
And still a slave to his imperious will,
Averse to anything he thinks will please,
Still sick, and still in love with his disease,
With fears, with discontent, with envy cursed;              155
To all uneasy, and himself the worst —
A spiteful censor of the present age,
Or dully jesting, or deformed with rage.^[14]
These call for pity, since it is their fate;
Their friends, not they, their miseries create.                  160
They are like victims to the altar led,
Born for destruction and for ruin bred; [330]
Forced to sigh out each long revolving year
And see their lives all spent in toil and care.
But such as may be from this bondage free,                    165
Who’ve no abridgers of their liberty,
No cruel parents, no imposing friends,
To make ’em wretched for their private ends,
From me shall no commiseration have,
If they themselves to barbarous men enslave.                 170
They’d better wed among the savage kind
And be to generous lions still confined,
Or matched to tigers, who would gentler prove
Than you, who talk of piety and love —
Words whose sense you never understood,                     175
And for that reason are nor kind, nor good.

Parson: Why all this rage? We merit not your hate;
’Tis you alone disturb the marriage state.
If to your lords you strict allegiance paid,
And their commands submissively obeyed,                     180
If like wise eastern slaves^[15] with trembling awe
You watched their looks and made their will your law,
You would both kindness and protection gain
And find your duteous care was not in vain.
This I advised, this I your sex have taught,                      185
And ought instruction to be called a fault?
Your duty was (I knew) the harder part,
Obedience being a harsh, uneasy art.
The skill to govern, men with ease can learn:
We’re soon instructed in our own concern.                     190
But you need all the aid that I can give
To make you unrepining vassals^[16] live.
Heaven, you must own, to you has been less kind —
You cannot boast our steadiness of mind,
Nor is your knowledge half so unconfined.                     195
We can beyond the bounds of nature see
And dare to fathom vast infinity.
Then soar aloft, and view the worlds on high
And all the inmost mansions of the sky.
Gaze on the wonders, on the beauties there,                  200
And talk with the bright phantoms of the air. [331]
Observe their customs, policy, and state,
And pry into the dark intrigues of fate.
Nay, more than this, we atoms can divide,
And all the questions of the schools decide.                    205
Turn falsehood into truth, and impudence to shame;
Change malice into zeal, and infamy to fame;
Make vices virtues, honor but a name.
Nothing’s too hard for our almighty sense,
But you, not blessed with Phoebus’^[17] influence,          210
Wither in shades, with nauseous dullness cursed,
Born fools, and by resembling idiots nursed.^[18]
Then taught to work, to dance, to sing and play,
And vainly trifle all your hours away,
Proud that you’ve learned the little arts to please,         215
As being incapable of more than these;
Your shallow minds can nothing else contain;
You were not made for labors of the brain.
Those are the manly toils which we sustain.
We, like the ancient giants, stand on high                      220
And seem to bid defiance to the sky,
While you, poor worthless insects, crawl below,
And less than mites t’ our exalted reason show.
Yet by compassion for your frailties moved,
I’ve strove to make you fit to be beloved.                         225

Sir John: That is a task exceeds your utmost skill:
Spite of your rules, they will be women still.
Wives are the common nuisance of the state:
They all our troubles, all our cares create,
And, more than taxes, ruin an estate.                                230
Would they, like Lucifer, were doomed to hell,
That we might here without disturbance dwell,
Then we should uncontrolled our wealth employ,
Drink high, and take a full repast of joy,
Damn care, and bravely roar away our time,                   235
And still be busied in some noble crime;
Like to the happier brutes, live unconfined,
And freely choose among the female kind.
So lived the mighty Thunderer^[19] of old, [332]
Loved as he pleased, and scorned to be controlled;       240
No kindred names his passion could restrain;
Like him I’ll think all nice distinctions vain,
And, tired with one, to a new mistress fly,
Blessed with the sweets of dear variety.

Melissa: To live at large a punishment would prove      245
To one acquainted with the joys of love.
Sincere affection centers but in one
And cannot be to various objects shown.
Would men prove kind, respectful, just, and true,
And unto us their former vows renew,                              250
They would have then no reason to complain,
But till that time reproofs will be in vain.
Some few perhaps, whom virtue has refined,
Who in themselves no vicious habits find,
Who swayed by reason, and by honor led,                       255
May in the thorny paths of duty tread,
And, still unwearied with your utmost spite,
In the blessed euges^[20] of their minds delight.
But still the most will their resentment show,
And, by deplored effects let you their anger know.       260

Sir William: She’s in the right. They still would virtuous prove
Were they but treated with respect and love.
Your barbarous usage does revenge produce.
It makes ’em bad, and is their just excuse.
You’ve set ’em copies, and dare you repine                      265
If they transcribe each black, detested line?

Parson: I dare affirm those husbands that are ill,
Were they unmarried, would be faultless still.
If we are cruel, they have made us so.
Whate’er they suffer, to themselves they owe.                270
Our love on their obedience does depend:
We will be kind when they no more offend.

Melissa: Of our offenses, who shall judges be?

Parson: For that great work, Heav’n has commissioned me.
I’m made one of his substitutes below,                             275
And from my mouth unerring precepts flow.
I’ll prove your duty from the law divine. [333]
Celestial truths in my discourse shall shine.
Truth dressed in all the gaieties of art,
In all that wit can give or eloquence impart.                   280
Attend, attend, the august message hear.
Let it imprint a reverential fear.
’Twill on your mind a vital influence have,
If while I speak, you’re silent as the grave.
The sacred oracles for deference call,                                 285
When from my oily tongue they smoothly fall.
First, I’ll by reason prove you should obey;
Next, point you out the most compendious way;
And then th’important doctrine I’ll improve —
These are the steps by which I mean to move.                290
And first, because you were by Heav’n designed
To be the comforts of our nobler kind:
For us alone with tempting graces blessed,
And for our sakes by bounteous nature dressed
With all the choicest beauties of her store,                      295
And made so fine that she could add no more.
And dare you now, as if it were in spite,
Become our plagues when formed for our delight?
Consider next, we are for you accursed,
We sinned, but you (alas!) were guilty first.                    300
Unhappy Eve unto her ruin led,
Tempted by pride, on the bright poison fed;^[21]
Then to her thoughtless husband gave a part:
He ate, seduced by her bewitching art.
And ’twas but just that, for so great a fault,                     305
She should be to a strict subjection brought.
So strict, her thoughts should be no more her own,
But all subservient made to him alone.
Had she not erred, her task had easy been:
He owed his change of humor to her sin.                        310
From that unhappy hour he peevish grew,
And she no more of solid pleasure knew.
His looks a sullen haughtiness did wear,
And all his words were scornful, or severe,
His mind so rough, love could not harbor there.           315
The gentle God in haste forsook his seat
And frightened fled to some more soft retreat.
His place was by a thousand ills possessed;
The crowding demons thronged into his breast [334]
And left no room for tender passions there.                    320
His sons with him in the sad change did share.
His sourness soon hereditary grew,
And its effects are still perceived by you.
With all your patience, all your toil and art,
You scarce can keep the surly husband’s heart.               325
Your kindness hardly can esteem create,
Yet do not blame him, since it is his fate.
But on your mother Eve alone reflect;
Thank her for his moroseness and neglect,
Who, with a fond indulgent spouse being blessed        330
And like a mistress courted and caressed,
Was not contented with her present state
But must her own unhappiness create,
And by ill practices his temper spoil,
And make what once was easy prove a toil.                     335
If you would live as it becomes a wife
And raise the honor of a married life,
You must the useful art of wheedling^[22] try
And with his various humors still comply;
Admire his wit, praise all that he does do,                       340
And when he’s vexed, do you be pettish,^[23] too;
When he is sad, a cloudy aspect^[24] wear,
And talk to him with a dejected air;
When rage transports him, be as mad as he;
And when he’s pleased, be easy, gay, and free.               345
You’ll find this method will effectual prove,
Enhance your merit and secure his love.

Sir John: It would — but women will be cross and proud
When we are merry, passionate and loud;
When we are angry, then they frolic^[25] grow,                350
And laugh, and sing, and no compliance show.
In contradictions they alone delight,
Are still a curse and never in the right.
By Heav’n, I’d rather be an ape or bear,
Or live with beggars in the open air,                                 355
Exposed to thunder, lightning, want, and cold,
Than be a prince and haunted with a scold.
Those noisy monsters much more dreadful are
Than threatening comets, plagues, or bloody war. [335]
Grant providence (if such a thing there be)                     360
They never may from hoarsenesses be free.
May on their tongues as many blisters grow
As they have teeth; and to increase their woe,
Let their desires by signs be still conveyed
And talking be forever penal made.                                   365

Parson: Hold, hold! I can’t these interruptions bear.
If you don’t me, these sacred truths revere.
Now, madam, I’ll instruct you to obey
And, as I promised, point you out the way.
First, to your husband you your heart must give,           370
He must alone in your affection live.
Whate’er he is, you still must think him best,
And boast to all that you are truly blest;
If fools should laugh and cry, ’tis but a jest,
Yet still look grave and vow you are sincere,                   375
And undisturbed their ill-bred censures bear.
Do what you can his kindness to engage,
Wink at his vices and indulge his rage.
How vain are women in their youthful days,
How fond of courtship, and how proud of praise!         380
What arts they use, what methods they devise
To be thought fair, obliging, neat, and wise!
But when they’re married, they soon careless grow,
Neglect their dress, and no more neatness show;
Their charms are lost, their kindness laid aside;             385
Smiles turned to frowns, their wisdom into pride;
And they or sullen are, or always chide.
Are these the ways a husband’s love to gain?
Or won’t they rather heighten his disdain,
Make him turn sot, be troublesome and sad,                  390
Or if he’s fiery, choleric^[26] and mad?
Thus they their peace industriously destroy
And rob themselves of all their promised joy.
Next, unto him you must due honor pay
And at his feet your topknot^[27] glories lay; [336]               395
The Persian ladies chalk you out the way;
They humbly on their heads a foot do wear,
As I have read, but yet the Lord knows where.
That badge of homage graceful does appear —
Would the good custom were in fashion here.               400
Also to him you inward reverence owe;
If he’s a fool, you must not think him so,
Nor yet indulge one mean, contemptuous thought,
Or fancy he can e’er commit a fault.
Nor must your deference be alone confined                    405
Unto the hid recesses of your mind,
But must in all your actions be displayed
And visible to each spectator made.
With him, well pleased and always cheerful live,
And to him still respectful titles give.                               410
Call him your lord, and your good breeding show,
And do not rudely too familiar grow,
Nor like some country matrons call him names,
As “John,” or “Geoffrey,” “William,” “George,” or “James;”
Or, what’s much worse, and ne’er to be forgot,              415
Those coarser terms of sloven, clown, or sot.
For though perhaps they may be justly due,
Yet must not, madam, once be spoke by you.
Soft, winning language will become you best:
Ladies ought not to rail, though but in jest.                    420
Lastly, to him you fealty must pay,
And his commands without dispute obey.
A blind obedience you from guilt secures,
And if you err, the fault is his, not yours.
What I have taught you will not tiresome prove            425
If, as you ought, you can but truly love.
Honor and homage then no task will be,
And we shall, sure, as few ill husbands see
As now good wives. They’ll prodigies^[28] appear,
Like whales and comets show some danger near.          430
Now to improvement I with haste will run,
Be short in that, and then my work is done.
To you, sir, first I will myself apply
To you, who are more fortunate that I,
And yet are free from the dire Gordian Tie.^[29]             435
You that religion ought to love and praise [337]
Which does you thus above the females raise.
Next me admire, who can such comments make,
And kindly wrest the scripture for your sake.
And now if you dare try a married state,                          440
You’ll have no reason to accuse your fate,
Since I have told ’em, if they be good wives,
They must submit and flatter all their lives.
You who already drag the nuptial chain
Will now have no occasion to complain,                          445
Since they beyond their sphere no more will tower,
But for the future own your sovereign power.
And being endued by this advice of mine,
To you their sense and liberty resign;
Turn fools and slaves, that they the more may please. 450
Now it is fit, for gifts so vast as these,
We should some little gratitude express
And be more complaisant in our address.
Bear with their faults, their weaknesses of mind:
When they are penitent, we should be kind.                   455
And that their faith we may the more secure,
For them some inconveniences endure:
When they’re in danger, their defenders prove;
’Twill show at once our valor and our love.
But let it be our more immediate care                               460
To make ’em these unerring rules revere.
Bid ’em attentively each precept read,
And tell ’em they’re as holy as their creed.
Be sure each morning ere they eat or pray
That they with care the sacred lessons say.                       465
This will our quiet, and their souls, secure,
And both our happiness and theirs ensure.
I on their duty could with ease enlarge,
But I would not too much their memories charge.
They’re weak, and should they overloaded be,                470
They’ll soon forget what has been said by me.
Which Heav’n avert, since it much thought has cost,
And who would have such wondrous rhetoric lost?

Melissa: A mouse the laboring mountain does disclose:^[30]
What raised my wonder, my derision grows.                  475
With mighty pomp you your harangue begun,
And with big words my fixed attention won. [338]
Each studied period^[31] was with labor wrought
But destitute of reason and of thought.
What you meant praise upon yourselves reflects:          480
Each sentence is a satire on your sex.
If we on you such obloquies^[32] had thrown,
We had not, sure, one peaceful minute known.
But you are wise, and still know what is best,
And with yourselves may be allowed to jest.                   485

Parson: How dare you treat me with so much neglect?
My sacred function calls for more respect.

Melissa: I’ve still revered your order as divine,
And when I see unblemished virtue shine;
When solid learning and substantial sense                      490
Are joined with unaffected eloquence;
When lives and doctrines of a piece are made,
And holy truths with humble zeal conveyed;
When free from passion, bigotry, and pride,
Not swayed by interest, nor to parties tied,                     495
Contemning riches, and abhorring strife,
And shunning all the noisy pomps of life,
You live the awful wonders of your time,
Without the least suspicion of a crime —
I shall with joy the highest deference pay,                       500
And heedfully attend to all you say.
From such, reproofs shall always welcome prove
As being th’ effects of piety and love.
But those from me can challenge no respect
Who on us all without just cause reflect;                          505
Who without mercy all the sex decry,
And into open defamations fly;
Who think us creatures for derision made,
And the Creator with his work upbraid;
What he called good, they proudly think not so,           510
And with their malice, their profaneness show.
’Tis hard we should be by the men despised,
Yet kept from knowing what would make us prized,
Debarred from knowledge, banished from the schools,
And with the utmost industry bred fools;                        515
Laughed out of reason, jested out of sense,
And nothing left but native innocence. [339]
Then we are told we are incapable of wit
And only for the meanest drudgeries fit,
Made slaves to serve their luxury and pride,                    520
And with innumerable hardships tried,
Till pitying Heav’n release us from our pain,
Kind Heav’n to whom alone we dare complain.
Th’ ill natured world will no compassion show:
Such as are wretched, it would still have so.                    525
It gratifies its envy and its spite;
The most in others’ miseries take delight.
While we are present, they some pity spare
And feast us on a thin repast of air;
Look grave and sigh, when we our wrongs relate,         530
And in a compliment accuse our fate;
Blame those to whom we our misfortunes owe,
And all the signs of real friendship show.
But when we’re absent, we their sport are made;
They fan the flame, and our oppressors aid,                    535
Join with the stronger, the victorious side,
And all our sufferings, all our griefs deride.
Those generous few, whom kinder thoughts inspire,
And who the happiness of all desire,
Who wish we were from barbarous usage free,              540
Exempt from toils and shameful slavery,
Yet let us, unreproved, misspend our hours,
And to mean purposes employ our nobler powers.
They think if we our thoughts can but express,
And know but how to work,^[33] to dance and dress,     545
It is enough, as much as we should mind,
As if we were for nothing else designed,
But made, like puppets, to divert mankind.
O that my sex would all such toys despise,
And only study to be good and wise;                                 550
Inspect themselves, and every blemish find;
Search all the close recesses of the mind
And leave no vice, no ruling passion there,
Nothing to raise a blush or cause a fear;
Their memories with solid notions fill,                             555
And let their reason dictate to their will;
Instead of novels, histories peruse,
And for their guides the wiser ancients choose,
Through all the labyrinths of learning go,
And grow more humble as they more do know.            560
By doing this, they will respect procure, [340]
Silence the men, and lasting fame secure,
And to themselves the best companions prove,
And neither fear their malice, nor desire their love.

Sir William: Had you the learning you so much desire, 565
You, sure, would nothing but yourselves admire.
All our addresses would be then in vain,
And we no longer in your hearts should reign;
Sighs would be lost, and ogles^[34] cast away;
You’d laugh at all we do, and all we say.                           570
No courtship then durst by the beaux^[35] be made
To anything above a chambermaid.
Gay clothes and periwigs would useless prove;
None but the men of sense would dare to love.
With such, Heav’n knows, this isle does not abound:  575
For one wise man, ten thousand fools are found,
Who all must at an awful distance wait
And vainly curse the rigor^[36] of their fate.
Then blame us not if we our interest mind
And would have knowledge to ourselves confined,       580
Since that alone preeminence does give,
And, robbed of it, we should unvalued live.
While you are ignorant, we are secure;
A little pain will your esteem procure.
Nonsense well-clothed will pass for solid sense,            585
And well-pronounced, for matchless eloquence;
Boldness for learning, and a foreign air
For nicest breeding with th’ admiring fair.

Sir John: By Heav’n, I wish ’twere by the laws decreed
They never more should be allowed to read.                   590
Books are the bane of states, the plagues of life,
But both conjoined, when studied by a wife:
They nourish factions and increase debate,
Teach needless things, and causeless fears create.
From plays and novels they learn how to plot,               595
And from your sermons all their cant is got;
From those they learn the damned intriguing way
How to attract, and how their snares to lay,
How to delude the jealous husband’s care,
Silence his doubts, and lull asleep his fear; [341]                600
And when discovered, by the last they’re taught
With shows of zeal to palliate their fault,
To look demure and talk in such a strain
You’d swear they never would be ill again.

Parson: You’re in the right: good things they misapply; 605
Yet not in books, but them, the fault does lie;
Plays are of use to cultivate our parts —
They teach us how to win our hearers’ hearts;
Soft, moving language for the pulpit’s fit —
’Tis there we consecrate the poet’s wit.                             610
But women were not for this province made
And should not our prerogative invade;^[37]
Whate’er they know should be from us conveyed;
We their preceptors^[38] and their guides should prove,
And teach them what to hate, and what to love.           615
But from our sermons, they no ill can learn;
They’re there instructed in their true concern,
Told what they must, and what they must not be,
And showed the utmost bounds of liberty.

Sir William: Madam, since we none of your beauty share,         620
You should content yourselves with being fair.
That is a blessing much more great than all
That we can wisdom, or can science call.
Such beauteous faces, such bewitching eyes,
Who would not more than musty authors prize?          625
Such wondrous charms will much more glory yield
Than all the honors of the dusty field,
Or all those ivy wreaths that wit can give,
And make you more admired, more reverenced live.
To you, the knowing world their vows do pay,              630
And at your feet their learned trophies lay,
And your commands with eager haste obey.
By all my hopes, by all that’s good, I swear
I’d rather be some celebrated fair
Than wise as Solon, or than Croesus’ heir;^[39]                635
Or have my memory well stuffed with all
Those whimsies which they high-raised notions call.

Melissa: Beauty’s a trifle, merits not my care.
I’d rather Aesop’s ugly visage wear,^[40]
Joined with his mind, than be a fool, and fair.               640
Brightness of thought, and an extensive view
Of all the wonders nature has to show — ^[41]
So clear, so strong, and so enlarged a sight
As can pierce through the gloomy shades of night,
Trace the first heroes to their dark abodes,                     645
And find the origin of men and gods,
See empires rise and monarchies decay,
And all the changes of the world survey,
The ancient and the modern fate of kings,
From whence their glory or misfortune springs —       650
Would please me more, than if in one combined
I’d all the graces of the female kind.
But do not think ’tis an ambitious heat:
To you I’ll leave the being rich and great.
Yours be the fame, the profit, and the praise;                 655
We’ll neither rob you of your vines, nor bays;^[42]
Nor will we to dominion once aspire;
You shall be chief, and still yourselves admire.
The tyrant man may still possess the throne;
’Tis in our minds that we would rule alone.                    660
Those unseen empires gives us leave to sway,
And to our reason private homage pay;
Our struggling passions within bounds confine,
And to our thoughts their proper tasks assign.
This is the use we would of knowledge make;                665
You quickly would the good effects partake. [343]
Our conversations it would soon refine,
And in our words, and in our actions shine;
And by a powerful influence on our lives,
Make us good friends, good neighbors, and good wives. 670
Of this, some great examples have been shown,
Women remarkable for virtue known:
Jealous of honor and upright of life,
Serene in dangers and averse to strife,
Patient when wronged, from pride and envy free,         675
Strangers to falsehood and to calumny;
Of every noble quality possessed:
Well skilled in science and with wisdom blessed.
In ancient Greece, where merit still was crowned,
Some such as these in her records were found.^[43]         680
Rome her Lucretia and her Porcia show,^[44]
And we to her the famed Cornelia^[45] owe;
A place with them does great Zenobia^[46] claim.
With these I could some modern ladies name
Who help to fill the bulky lists of fame:                           685
Women renowned for knowledge and for sense,
For sparkling wit and charming eloquence.
But they’re enough — at least to make you own,
If we less wise and rational are grown,
’Tis owing to^[47] your management alone.  [344]                 690
If like th’ ancients you would generous prove
And in our education show your love,
Into our souls would noble thoughts instill;
Our infant minds with bright ideas fill.
Teach us our time in learning to employ                          695
And place in solid knowledge all our joy;
Persuade us trifling authors to refuse,
And when we think, the usefulest subjects choose;
Inform us how a prosperous state to bear,
And how to act when fortune is severe.                            700
We should be wiser, and more blameless live,
And less occasion for your censures give;
At least in us less failings you would see,
And our discourses would less tiresome be.
Though wit like yours we never hope to gain,                 705
Yet from impertinence we should refrain,
And learn to be less talkative and vain.
Unto the strictest rules we should submit,
And what we ought to do, think always fit;
Never dispute, when duty leads the way                           710
But its commands without a sigh obey.
To reason, not to humor, give the reins,
And be the same in palaces and chains.
But you our humble suit will still decline;
To have us wise was never your design.                            715
You’ll keep us fools, that we may be your jest:
They who know least, are ever treated best.
If we do well, with care it is concealed,
But every error, every fault’s revealed;
While to each other you still partial prove,                      720
Can see no failures, and even vices love.
The bloody masters of the martial trade
Are praised for mischiefs, and for murders paid.
The noisy lawyers, if they can but bawl,
Soon grace the woolsacks,^[48] and adorn the hall.         725
The envied great, those darling sons of fame,
Who carry a majestic terror in their name,^[49]
Who like the demigods are placed on high
And seem th’ exalted natives of the sky,
Who swayed by pride, and by self-love betrayed,          730
Are slaves to their imperious passions made, [345]
Are with a servile awe by you revered,
Praised for their follies, for their vices feared.
The courtier, who with every wind can veer
And midst the mounting waves can safely steer,           735
Who all can flatter, and with wondrous grace,
Low cringing bows, and a designing face,
A smiling look, and a dissembled hate,
Can hug a friend and hasten on his fate,
Has your applause; his policy you praise,                         740
And to the skies his prudent conduct raise.
The scholar, if he can a verb decline,^[50]
And has the skill to reckon nine times nine,
Or but the nature of a fly define,
Can mouth some Greek, and knows where Athens stood,        745
Though he perhaps is neither wise nor good,
Is fit for Oxford; where when he has been,
Each college viewed, and each grave doctor seen,
He mounts a pulpit, and th’ exalted height
Makes vapors dance before his troubled sight,               750
And he no more can see, nor think aright.
Yet such as these your consciences do guide,
And o’er your actions and your words preside,
Blame you for faults which they themselves commit,
Arraign your judgment and condemn your wit,             755
Instill their notions with the greatest ease,
And hoodwinked lead you wheresoe’r they please.
The formal justice and the jolly knight,
Who in their money place their chief delight,
Who watch the kitchen and survey the field                   760
To see what each will to their luxury yield,
Who eat and run, then quarrel, rail, and drink,
But never are at leisure once to think,
Who weary of domestic cares being grown,
And yet, like children, frightened when alone,              765
(Detesting books) still hunt, or hawk, or play,
And in laborious trifles waste the day,
Are liked by you, their actions still approved,
And if they’re rich, are sure to be beloved.
These are the props, the glory of the state,                       770
And on their nod depends the nation’s fate.
These weave the nets, where little flies betrayed
Are victims to relentless justice made,
While they themselves contemn^[51] the snares that they have laid [346]
As bonds too weak such mighty men to hold                 775
As scorn to be by any laws controlled.
Physicians with hard words and haughty looks
And promised health bait their close-covered hooks;
Like birds of prey, while they your gold can scent,
You are their care; their utmost help is lent;                   780
But when your guineas^[52] cease, you to the spa are sent;
Yet still you court ’em, think you cannot die
If you’ve a son of Aesculapius^[53] by.
The tradesmen you caress, although you know
They wealthy by their cheats and flatteries grow;           785
You seem to credit every word they say,
And as they sell, with the same conscience pay.
Nay to the mob, those dregs of humankind,
Those animals you slight, you’re wondrous kind;
To them you cringe, and though they are your sport,  790
Yet still you fawn, and still their favor court.
Thus on each other daily you impose,
And all for wit, and dexterous cunning goes.
’Tis we alone hard measure still must find;
But, spite of you, we’ll to ourselves be kind;                    795
Your censures slight, your little tricks despise,
And make it our whole business to be wise;
The mean, low, trivial cares of life disdain,
And read and think, and think and read again,
And on our minds bestow the utmost pain.                    800
Our souls with strictest morals we’ll adorn,
And all your little arts of wheedling scorn;
Be humble, mild, forgiving, just, and true,
Sincere to all, respectful unto you,
While as becomes you, sacred truths you teach,            805
And live those sermons you to others preach.
With want of duty none shall us upbraid;
Where’er ’tis due, it shall be nicely paid.
Honor and love we’ll to our husbands give,
And ever constant and obedient live.                                810
If they are ill, we’ll try by gentle ways
To lay those tempests which their passions raise.
But if our soft submissions are in vain,
We’ll bear our fate, and never once complain;
Unto our friends the tenderest kindness show;              815
Be wholly theirs, no separate interest know;
With them their dangers and their suff’rings share,
And make their persons, and their fame our care.
The poor we’ll feed, to the distressed be kind,
And strive to comfort each afflicted mind;                      820
Visit the sick, and try their pains to ease;
Not without grief the meanest wretch displease;
And by a goodness as diffused as light,
To the pursuit of virtue all invite.
Thus will we live, regardless of your hate,                        825
Till readmitted to our former state,
Where, free from the confinement of our clay,^[54]
In glorious bodies we shall bask in day,
And with enlightened minds new scenes survey,
Scenes much more bright than any here below;             830
And we shall then the whole of nature know,
See all her springs, her secret turnings view,
And be as knowing and as wise as you;
With generous spirits of a make divine,
In whose blest minds celestial virtues shine,                   835
Whose reason, like their station,^[55] is sublime,
And who see clearly though the mists of time,
Those puzzling glooms where busy mortals stray
And still grope on, but never find their way.
We shall, well pleased, eternally converse,                       840
And all the sweets of sacred love possess:
Love, freed from all the gross allays^[56] of sense,
So pure, so strong, so constant, so intense,
That it shall all our faculties employ,
And leave no room for anything but joy.                         845