Classic Poem

A woman stops at nothing, when she wears
Rich emeralds round her neck, and, in her ears,
Pearls of enormous size; these justify
Her faults, and make all lawful in her eye.
Sure, of all ills with which the state is curst,
A wife, who brings you money, is the worst.
Behold! her face a spectacle appears,
Bloated, and foul, and plaister'd to the ears
With viscous pastes:—the husband looks askew,
And sticks his lips in this detested glew.
Still to the adulterer, sweet and clean she goes,
(No sight offends his eye, no smell his nose,)
But rots in filth at home, a very pest,
And thinks it loss of leisure to be drest.
For him she breathes of nard, for him alone,
She makes the sweets of Araby her own;
For him, at length, she ventures to uncase
Her person; scales the rough-cast from her face,
And (while her maids to know her now begin)
Washes, with asses' milk, her frowzy skin;
Asses, which, exiled to the Pole, the fair,
For her charms' sake, would carry with her there.
But tell me yet; this thing, thus daub'd and oil'd,
Thus poultic'd, plaister'd, bak'd by turns and boil'd,
Thus with pomatums, ointments, lacquer'd o'er,
Is it a FACE , Ursidius, or a SORE ?