Classic Poem

Ladies, I keep a Rhyme-shop; mine's a trade;
I sell to old and young, to man and maid:
All customers must be obliged; and no man
Wishes more universally to please.
I'd really crawl upon my knees,
I'oblige; particularly, lovely Woman.

Yet some (the Devil take such virtuous times!)
Fastidious, pick a quarrel with my Rhymes,
And beg I'd only deal in love-sick Sonnet. —
How easy, to bid others cease to feed!
On beauty I can quickly die indeed;
But, trust me, can't live long upon it.

Permit me, Ladies, now to lay before ye
What lately happen'd; therefore a True Story.