IX Philosophy, as it before us lies, Seems to have borrow'd some ungrateful taste Of doubts, impertinence, and niceties, From every age through which it pass'd, But always with a stronger relish of the last. This beauteous queen, by Heaven design'd To be the great original For man to dress and polish his uncourtly mind, In what mock habits have they put her since the fall! More oft in fools' and madmen's hands than sages', She seems a medley of all ages, With a huge farthingale to swell her fustian stuff, A new commode, a topknot, and a ruff, Her face patch'd o'er with modern pedantry,            With a long sweeping train Of comments and disputes, ridiculous and vain, All of old cut with a new dye:          How soon have you restored her charms, And rid her of her lumber and her books, Drest her again genteel and neat, And rather tight than great! How fond we are to court her to our arms! How much of heaven is in her naked looks! 

      X Thus the deluding Muse oft blinds me to her ways, And ev'n my very thoughts transfers And changes all to beauty and the praise Of that proud tyrant sex of hers. The rebel Muse, alas! takes part, But with my own rebellious heart, And you with fatal and immortal wit conspire To fan th'unhappy fire. Cruel unknown! what is it you intend? Ah! could you, could you hope a poet for your friend! Rather forgive what my first transport said:      May all the blood, which shall by woman's scorn be shed, Lie upon you and on your children's head! For you (ah! did I think I e'er should live to see The fatal time when that could be!)        Have even increased their pride and cruelty. Woman seems now above all vanity grown, Still boasting of her great unknown Platonic champions, gain'd without one female wile, Or the vast charges of a smile; Which 'tis a shame to see how much of late You've taught the covetous wretches to o'errate, And which they've now the consciences to weigh In the same balance with our tears, And with such scanty wages pay The bondage and the slavery of years. Let the vain sex dream on; the empire comes from us; And had they common generosity, They would not use us thus. Well—though you've raised her to this high degree, Ourselves are raised as well as she; And, spite of all that they or you can do,      'Tis pride and happiness enough to me, Still to be of the same exalted sex with 

 Prev. P 30/242 next