صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

About his Lips the gather'd Foam he churns,
And breathing Slaughter, ftill with Rage he burns,
But on the bleating Flock his Fury turns.
His Mantle, now his Hide, with rugged Hairs,
Cleaves to his Back, a famish'd Face he bears,
His Arms defcend, his Shoulders fink away,
To multiply his Legs for Chace of Prey.
He grows a Woolf, his Hoariness remains,
And the fame Rage in other Members reigns;
His Eyes ftill fparkle in a narrower Space,
His Jaws retain the Grin and Violence of Face.

}

Dryd. Ovid.

ROMULUS and REMUS nurs'd by a Woolf. The Cave of Mars was drefs'd with moffy Greens ; There by the Woolf were laid the martial Twins; Intrepid on her fwelling Dugs they hung,

The Fofter-Dam loll'd out her fawning Tongue;

'They fuck'd fecure, while bending back her Head, (Dryd. Virg. She lick'd their tender Limbs, and form'd them as they fed. WOMAN.

Thou'rt Woman, a true Copy of the first,

In whom the Race of all Mankind was curft:
Your Sex by Beauty was to Heav'n ally'd,

But your great Lord, the Devil, taught you Pride.
He too an Angel, till he durft rebel,

And you are fure the Stars that with him fell.
Weep on! a Stock of Tears like Vows you have,
And always ready when you would deceive.

Otw. Don, Carl.

Oh Virtue! Virtue! what art thou become,
That Men fhould leave thee for that Toy a Woman!
Made from the Drofs and Refufe of a Man :
Heav'n took him fleeping when he made her too;

Had Man been waking he had ne'er confented. Dryd. Span. Fry.
Out of my Sight thou Serpent, that Name beft

Befits thee, with him leagu'd, thy felf as falfe,
And hateful; nothing wants, but that thy Shape,
Like his, and Colour ferpentine, may fhew

Thy inward Fraud, to warn all Creatures from thee.
Thy all is but a Show,

Milti

Rather than folid Virue; all but a Rib,
Crooked by Nature. Oh why did God,
Creator wife, that peopled highest Heav'n
With Spirits mafculine, create at laft
This Novelty on Earth! this fair Defect
Of Nature, and not fill the World at once
With Men, as Angels, without Feminine,

Or find fome other way to generate Mankind?

Milf

Ak

Ah Traitress! Ah ingrate! Ah faithlefs Mind!
Ah Sex invented firft to damn Mankind!
Nature took care to drefs you up for Sin;
Adorn'd without, unfinish'd left within :
Hence by no Judgment you your Love direct;
Talk much, ne'er think, and ftill the wrong affect
So much Self-love in your Compofure's mix'd,
That Love to others ftill remains unfix'd.
Greatnefs, and Noife, and Shew, are your Delight;
Yet wife Men love you in their own Defpight:
And finding in their native Wit no Ease,
Are forc'd to put your Folly on to please.
Intollerable Vanity! your Sex

Dryd. Auren.

Was never in the right: You're always falfe,
Or filly; ev'n your Dreffes are not more
Fantaftick than your Appetites: You think
Of nothing twice: Opinion you have none:
To Day you're nice, to Morrow not so free;
Now fmile, then frown, now forrowful, then glad,
Now pleas'd, now not, and all you know not why.
Virtue you affect; Inconftancy you practice;
And when your loofe Defires once get Dominion,
No hungry Churl feeds coarfer at a Feast:
Ev'ry rank Fool goes down.

The Sex was firft in Mock'ry of us made;
They are the falfe, deceitful Glaffes, where
We gaze, and dress our felves to all the Shapes
Of Folly. What is it Woman cannot do?
She'll make a Statesman quite forget his Cunning,
And truft his dearest Secrets to her Breast,
Where Fops have daily Entrance: Make a Prieft,
Forgetting the Hypocrify of's Office,

Otw. Orph.

Dance and fhew Tricks, to prove his Strength and Brawn.
Make a Projector quibble; an old Judge

Put on falfe Hair and Paint: And after all,

Tho' fhe be known the lewdeft of her Sex,

She'll make fome Fool or other think fhe's honeft. Otw. C. Mar. For 'tis in vain to think to guess

At Women by Appearances:

That paint and patch their Imperfections
Of intellectual Complexions;

And dawb their Tempers o'er with Washes,

As artificial as their Faces.

Who can defcribe

Their Affectation, Pride, Ill Nature, Noife,

Proneness to change, ev'n from the Joy that pleas'd them:

So gracious is their Idol, dear Variety,

Hud.

That

That for another's Love, they would forego
An Angel's Form to mingle with a Devil's.
Thro' ev'ry State and Rank of Men'they wander,
Till ev'n their large Experience takes in all
The diff'rent Nations of the peopled Earth.
Fatally fair they are, and in their Smiles
The Graces, little Loves, and young Defires inhabit:
But all that gaze upon them are undone.

For they are falfe, luxurious in their Appetites,
And all the Heav'n they hope for is Variety.
One Lover to another ftill fucceeds;
Another, and another after that,

Row. Amb. Step.

And the laft Fool is welcome as the former;
Till having lov'd his Hour out, he gives place,
And mingles with the Herd that went before him.

Methought ev'n now I mark'd the Starts of Guilt,
That fhook her Soul, tho' damn'd Diffimulation
Skreen'd her dark Thoughts, and fet to publick View
A fpecious Face of Innocence and Beauty.
Oh falfe Appearance! What is all our Sov'reignty,
Or boafted Pow'r, when they oppose their Arts?
Still they prevail, and we are found the Fools:
With fuch smooth Looks, and many a gentle Word,
The first fair She beguil'd her eafy Lord :
Too blind with Love and Beauty to beware,
He fell unthinking in the fatal Snare:
Nor could believe that fuch a heav'nly Face,

[merged small][ocr errors]

(Row, Fair Pen.

Had bargain'd with the Devil, to damn her wretched Race. Henceforth not name a Woman;

'Tis Treafon to my Ear. They are

The Bane of Empire, and the Rot of Pow'r!

The Cause of all our Mischiefs, Murders, Maffacres !
What Seas of Blood they've fpilt in former Ages ?
Woman, that dooms us all to one fure Grave,
And fafter damns, than Providence can fave.
Each Inconvenience makes their Virtue cold,
But Womankind in Ills is ever bold.

Oh Woman, Woman, Woman! All the Gods
Have not fuch Pow'r of doing Good to Men,
As you of doing Harm!

Lee Confiant.

Dryd. Jav.

Dryd. All for Lour.

I'd leave the World for him that hates a Woman!
Woman, the Fountain of all human Frailty!
What mighty Ills have not been done by Woman?
Who was't betray'd the Capitol? A Woman!
Who was the Caufe of a long ten Years War,
And laid at laft old Troy in Ashes? a Woman!
Who loft Mark Anthony the World? a Woman!
Destructive, damnable, deceitful Woman!

Woman

Woman, to Man first as a Bleffing given,
When Innocence and Love were in their Prime;
Happy a while in Paradise they lay,

But quickly Woman long'd to go aftray:

Some foolish new Adventure needs must prove,
And the firft Devil fhe faw, fhe chang'd her Love.
To his Temptations lewdly fhe inclin'd

Her Soul, and for an Apple damn'd Mankind.

But I forget my felf, and rove
Beyond th'Inftruction of my Love:
Forgive me, Fair! and only blame
Th'Extravagancy of my Flame;
Since 'tis too much at once to show
Excess of Love and Temper too :
All I have faid that's bad and true,
Was never meant to aim at you.

Oh Woman! lovely Woman! Nature made you
To temper Man: We had been Brutes without you.
Angels are painted fair to look like you.

There's in you all that we believe of Heav'n;
Amazing Brightnefs, Purity, and Truth,
Eternal Joy, and everlasting Love.

Under how hard a Fate are Women born!
Priz'd to their Ruin, or expos'd to Scorn.
If we want Beauty we of Love despair,
And are befieg'd like Frontier-Towns, if Fair.
How hard is the Condition of our Sex,
Thro' ev'ry State of Life the Slaves of Man!
In all the dear delightful Days of Youth,
A rigid Father dictates to our Wills,
And deals out Pleasure with a fcanty Hand
To his, the Tyrant Husband's Reign fucceeds:
Proud with Opinion of fuperiour Reason,
He holds domeftick Bufinefs and Devotion
All we are capable to know, and fhuts us,

Otw. Orpha

Huds

Otw. Ven. Pref.

Wall.

[ocr errors]

Like cloyfter'd Ideots, from the World's Acquaintance,
And all the Joys of Freedom. Wherefore are we
Born with high Souls, but to affert our felves,
Shake off this wild Obedience they exact,
And claim an equal Empire o'er the World.
Unhappy Sex! whofe Beauty is your Snare;
Expos'd to Trials, made too frail to bear.

Women are govern'd by a ftubborn Fate
Their Love's infuperable as their Hate;
No Merit their Averfion can remove,
No ill Requital can efface their Love.

Kk

Row. Fair Pett.

Dryd. Aurens

[ocr errors][merged small]

For I who made them, know their inward State :
No Woman, once well-pleas'd, can throughly hate:
I gave 'em Beauty to fubdue the Strong;

A mighty Empire! But it lafts not long:
I gave 'em Pride to make Mankind their Slave,
But in Exchange, to Men I Flatt'ry gave.
Th'offending Lover, when he loweft lies,
Submits to conquer, and but kneels to rife.

Dryd. Auren. [Spoken by Jupiter.

Why was I made with all my Sex's Softnefs, Yet want the Cunning to conceal its Follies? I'll fee Caftalio; tax him with his Falfhood; Be a true Woman, rail, proteft my Wrongs, Refolve to hate him, and yet love him ftill.

A ftrange diffembling Sex we Women are,
Well may we Men, when we ourfelves deceive.
Long has my fecret Soul lov'd Troilus:

I drunk his Praifes from my Unkle's Mouth,
As if my Ears could ne'er be fatisfy'd.

Why then, why faid I not, I love this Prince?

How could my Tongue confpire against my Heart,
To fay I lov'd him not. O childish Love!

'Tis like an Infant froward in his Play,

Otw. Orph

And what he moft defires, he throws away. Shak. Troil. & Cref.
Forbidding me to follow, fhe invites me:
This is the Mould of which I made the Sex;
I gave them but one Tongue to fay us Nay,
And two kind Eyes to grant. Dryd. Amph. Spoken by Jupiter.
Our thoughtless Sex is caught by outward Form,
And empty Noife, and loves it felf in Man.

Hard Fate of Lovers, fubject to our Laws!
Fools we must have, or else we cannot fway,
For none but Fools will Womankind obey:
If they prove stubborn, and refift our Will,
We exercise our Pow'r, and ufe 'em ill:
The paffive Slave, that whines, adores, and dies,
Sometimes we pity, but we ftill defpife:

But when we doat, the felf-fame Fate we prove;
Fools at the best, but double Fools in Love.
We rage at firft with ill-diffembled Scorn;

Then, falling from our height, more bafely mourn
'And Man, th' infulting Tyrant, takes his Turn;
Leaves us to weep for our neglected Charms,
And hugs another Mistress in his Arms:

And that which humbles our proud Sex the moft,
Of all our flighted Favours makes his Boaft.

Dryd. Oedip.

Dryd, Cleom.

Some

« السابقةمتابعة »