#English #Women
We of late had a terrible Rout in… If I happen’d to speak, I was sur… My Mamma had the Tooth—ach, and… O Steel, I for ever will yalue th… Both Children, and Servants, to t…
With Joy your Summons we obey, And come to celebrate this Day. Yet I, alas! despair to please; For you require exalted Lays: And, let me write whate’er I will…
This Present from a lovely Dame, Fair and unsully’d, as her Fame, Shall to Hibernia be convey’d, Where once, rever’d, her Father s… And taught the drooping Arts to s…
As in some wealthy, trading Town, Where Riches raise to fure Renown… The Man, with ample Sums in Stor… More than enough, yet wanting more… Bent on Abundance, first secures
I grieve to see you waste your Ti… And turn your Thoughts so much to… Be wise—your useless Views resign… And fly the fair, delusive Nine. I know, they try their wonted Art…
O thou, with ev’ry Virtue grac’d, Adorn’d with Wit, and Sense, and… Who, with a Goodness unconfin’d, Delight’st in blessing human Kind… Whose Woes so oft thy Peace destr…
Might I inquire the Reasons of my… Or with my Maker dare expostulate… Did I, in prosp’rous Days, despis… Or drive the friendless Stranger… Was not my Soul pour’d out for th…
Let me the Honour soon obtain, For which I long have hop’d in va… Since I, alas! am now confin’d, Your Visit would be doubly kind. What Sorrows have I not to fear,
An Epigram You cry, She’s bred in the Old W… Then into Laughter fall: Were she as just to you, she’d say… You are not bred at all.
Is what we owe great William then Forgotten by ungrateful Men? And has His Fame run out its Dat… Who snatch’d us from the Brink of… Else, why should Scholars, Sir,…
Tho’ the Plumb, and the Peach, wi… To present you their Softness, an… Their Aid is in vain; for what ca… But blush, and confess them selves… Where Virtue and Wit with such Q…
How well these Laymen love to gib… And throw their Jests on Levi’s… Must One be toil’d to Death, they… Whilst other Priests are yawning… Forgetful that He reaps the Gain,
Obrian, were in Story told, Thy Ancestors wore Crowns of old: In fair Hibernia’s Isle they reig… A Country, by their Sons disdain’… Too apt to charge their Native Is…
Dear Jack, whilst you thro’ Fland… Can you forget your Friends at Ho… Say, will your Tutors give you Ti… To write to Hereticks in Rhyme? A Name they brand us with, dear Y…
Believe me, Rose, howe’er this Co… With flowing Numbers, and an easy… With Wit, with Humour, and with e… That steals the Ear, and ravishes… Howe’er his Verses are with Raptu…