Classic Poem

ODE LII

1

Ill suits that froward Scorne
Your Sexe; I am not tyed
To woman, in a Forme,
Or a Face mortifyed;
Though I confesse
Some things are ornament; Some nothing lesse.

2

Your Silence, doe not Change
By vowel, to the worse.
Be free; butt doe not range
In the frequented Course
Of Appetite,
And rather trust your vertue, then your Witt.

3

Something within you, knowes
How to informe you best;
Conforme your outward browes,
Unto your inward Brest:
And then appeare,
To informe Men, beyond all Character.