WELL, Ladies-so much for the tragic style→→→
And now the custom is to make you smile.
To make us smile!-methinks I hear you say→→→
Why, who can help it, at so strange a play?
The captain gone three years!--and then to blame
The faultless conduct of his virtuous dame!
My stars!-what gentle belle would think it treason,
When thus provok'd, to give the brute some reason?
Out of my house!—this night, forsooth, depart!
A modern wife had said- With all my heart-
But think not, haughty Sir! I'll go alone;
Order your coach-conduct me safe to Town—
Give me my jewels, wardrobe, and my maid—
And, pray, take care my pin-money be paid.'
Such is the language of each modish fair;
Yet memoirs, not of modern growth, declare
The time has been when modesty and truth
Were deem'd additions to the charms of youth;
When women bid their necks, and veil'd their faces,
Nor romp'd, nor rak'd, nor star'd, at public places,
Nor took the airs of Amazons for graces:
'Then plain domestic virtues were the mode,
And wives ne'er dream'd of happiness abroad;
They lov'd their children, learn'd no flaunting airs,
But with the joys of wedlock mix'd the cares.
Those times are past-yet sure they merit praise,
For marriage triumph'd in those golden days;