Classic Poem

Supposed to be wrote by a Lady.

Sweet-scented Sir, excuse a real Friend,
A Female, too, who fain would see you mend;
And thro' that laudable Design, presumes
To give Advice; not flavour'd with Perfumes;
But with Sincerity of Heart steps forth,
To render you, perhaps, a Man of Worth:
Mistake me not; it is no worldly Pelf,
We know you've that — I'm speaking of Yourself ;
Discard that petit maitre air ; I vow,
You're like a Puppet at a Raree Shew,
Which guided only by the Master Wires,
Moves up and down, and as the Shew requires,
Shifts its Position with an aukward Air,
Just as I've seen You trip it to your Chair. —
Attempt a little Elegance of Ease;
This is a Charm can never fail to please:
But, soft! Tho' this is well design'd, you'll grant,
I would not move your Anger, sweet D T .