Classic Poem

Spoke by Mrs P RITCHARD .

Hold her not thankless , that (oblig'd by you )
She thus, with nothing , pays, your Much ado:
'Tis the world's frugal mode, and each wise nation
Keeps weights, and scales of air , for obligation .
Sunshine pretence ends , oft, in rainy weather ;
And many a head's best boast — is hat and feather!
Trust nothing, but your wives — we plot no treason ,
'Till unkind husband's cease, to do us reason .
But, as for wit, fame, taste — they're mere deceivers:
Ev'n politic's shew teeth , but bite believers.

WHO , that has seen high-posted zeal , peace-hating,
Raise dust for I NS , and O UTS , by turns debating,
E're guess'd, till time and chance , set crowds a staring ,
That Outs , and Ins , gave coats , with all one bearing!
Who, that, of late, saw bold R EBELLION 's standard
Rais'd, rounded, common-soldier'd , and commander'd ,
Hop'd, at a spurt , to see such schemes, to cramp us
Scatter'd , and scouting back, to brouze Mount Grampus!

WHO , ye bloom'd fair! most us'd to soft protesting ,
And hardly brought to think , love's wounds but jesting ,
Sees her scorch'd victim , at her feet expiring ,
And dreams he'll come to life , for other's firing?

A LL , that you see, touch, taste, hear, wish , or dream on ,
Is but deceit's broad bog , to build esteem on.
Our Shakespear knew mankind , and rightly drew 'em,
And, as for women , faith he peep'd quite thro' 'em,
I , and my Benedick , each sex emblazing,
Shew neither over-fit, for either's praising.
All brought to all, each lives to gull the other,
And Disappointment closes love's long pother .
Tho' much ado is passion's loud beginning ,
'Tis about nothing — still, and not worth winning .

B UT , I forget my cue — thus humbly low,
Serious, I pay the solid thanks, I owe .
Warm'd , by quick sense of your protective praise,
Inflaming gratitude more worth may raise.
Bid unforc'd laughter rise, from native strains,
And free-touch'd humour shun distortive pains.
Bid tears, unwhining , find their source within,
And, from touch'd hearts , the hand's applause begin.
Un-borrow'd be my pow'r, or none at all;
Let me, on pity, not for pity, call.
Failing to move your grief , were judgment's fault,
For sorrow moves me , first, by nature , taught,
Nature , in unaffected freedom, drest,
By plain simplicity , hits passion, best.
Shown, like your virtues, [to the gentlemen] strongest, without glare ,
And, like your beauties, [to the ladies] without paint , most fair.