Classic Poem

PROLOGUE

Women like us (passing for men), you'll cry,
Presume too much upon your secrecy.
There's not a fop in town but will pretend
To know the cheat himself, or by his friend.
Then make no words on 't, gallants, 'tis e'en true,
We are condemn'd to look, and strut, like you.
Since we thus freely our hard fate confess,
Accept us these bad times in any dress.
You'll find the sweet on 't, now old pantaloons
Will go as far as formerly new gowns;
And from your own cast wigs expect no frowns.
The ladies we shall not so easily please;
They'll say: " What impudent bold things are these,
That dare provoke, yet cannot do us right,
Like men with huffing looks that dare not fight! "
But this reproach our courage must not daunt:
The bravest soldier may a weapon want;
Let her that doubts us still send her gallant.
Ladies, in us you'll youth and beauty find,
All things, but one, according to your mind;
And when your eyes and ears are feasted here,
Rise up and make out the short meal elsewhere.

EPILOGUE

W HAT think you, sirs, was 't not all well enough?
Will you not grant that we can strut and huff?
Men may be proud; but faith, for aught I see,
They neither walk nor cock so well as we.
And for the fighting part, we may in time
Grow up to swagger in heroic rhyme;
For tho' we cannot boast of equal force,
Yet at some weapons men have still the worse.
Why should not then we women act alone,
Or whence are men so necessary grown?
Ours are so old, they are as good as none.
Some who have tried 'em, if you'll take their oaths,
Swear they're as arrant tinsel as their clothes.
Imagine us but what we represent,
And we could e'en give you as good content.
Our faces, shapes, all 's better than you see,
And for the rest they want as much as we.
O would the highest powers be kind to us,
And grant us to set up a female house!
We'll make ourselves to please both sexes then,
To the men women, to the women men.
Here, we presume, our legs are no ill sight,
And they would give you no ill dreams at night.
In dreams both sexes may their passions ease;
You make us then as civil as you please.
This would prevent the houses joining too,
At which we are as much displeas'd as you;
For all our women most devoutly swear,
Each would be rather a poor actress here
Then to be made a Mamamouchi there.