Classic Poem

I have been thinking, what this house must do,
To share your envy'd favours, with the new :
But find, we strive, in vain, their match to grow,
While 'tis not they deserve , but you bestow!
And no endeavours will advantage give;
Our foes , who, cuckow-like , can sleep , and live!
You'll not be angry, gentle-hearted beaux!
'Tis natural, you know, to hate our foes!
The he controulers of our changeful state,
With patient silence, bear their falling fate:
But women , wives or virgins, young, or old,
All claim one grand prerogative — to scold .
Long have we been neglected, why , heav'n knows,
For tumblers — eunuchs — fugh — and puppet-shows!
Ye gods! that all new things shou'd charm the mind!
New hopes, new cloaths, new faces, gull mankind.
Nay, could but women change as fast as you ,
Your very wives , in time, might please you, too:
Yet, there's one thing, that all the rest surpasses,
That a new house should please , ev'n with old faces .
Well, Sirs, these slights no female pride can bear,
That I, this house's championess, declare;
We do not only claim kind smiles, from you,
But must be own'd most worthy of them, too.
This, he, who dares deny, provokes my rage,
And I defy him, by this knightly gage:
At twelve, to-night, I'll come, alone, to meet him,
And ne'er trust woman , if I don't defeat him.