Female Advocate or, an Answer to a Late Satyr Against the Pride, Lust and Inconstancy, &c. of Woman. Written by a Lady in Vindication of her Sex, an electronic edition
- Poem: The Female Advocate, or An Answer to a late Satyr against the Pride, Lust and Inconstancy, &c. of woman.
The Female Advocate, or An Answer to a late Satyr against the Pride, Lust and Inconstancy, &c. of woman.
Blasphemous Wretch, thou who canst think or say
Some Curst or Banisht Fiend usurp't the way
When Eve was form'd; for then's deny'd by you
Gods Omniscience and Omnipresence too:
Without which Attributes he could not be,
The greatest and supremest Deity:
Nor can Heaven sleep, tho' it may mourn to fee
Degenerate Man utter Blasphemy.
When from dark Chaos Heav'n the World did make,
Made all things glorious it did undertake;
Then it in Eden's Garden freely plac'd
All things pleasant to the Sight or taste,
Fill'd it with Beasts & Birds, Trees hung with Fruit,
That might with man's Celestial Nature suit:
The world being made thus spacious and compleat,
Then Man was form'd, who seemed nobly great.
When Heaven survey'd the Works that it had done,
Saw Male and female, but found Man alone,
A barren Sex and insignificant;
So Heaven made Woman to supply the want,
And to make perfect what before was scant:
Then surely she a Noble Creature is,
Whom Heaven thus made to consummate all Bliss.
Though Man had been first, yet methinks She
In Nature should have the supremacy;
For Man was form'd out of dull senceless Earth;
But Woman she had a far nobler Birth:
For when the dust was purify'd by Heaven,
Made into Man, and Life unto it given,
Then the Almighty and All-wise God said,
That Woman of that Species should be made:
Which was no sooner said, but it was done,
'Cause 'twas not fit for Man to be alone.
Thus have I prov'd Womans Creation good,
And not inferior, when right understood:
To that of Man's; for both one Maker had,
Which made all good; then how could Eve be bad?
But then you'l say, though she at first was pure,
Yet in that State she did not long endure.
'Tis true; but if her Fall's examin'd right,
We find most Men have banish'd Truth for spight:
Nor is she quite so guilty as some make;
For Adam did most of the Guilt partake:
For he from God's own Mouth had the Command;
But Woman she had it at second hand:
The Devil's Strength weak Women might deceive,
But Adam tempted only was by eve.
Eve had the srongest Tempter, and least Charge;
Man's knowing most, doth his Sin make most large.
But though Woman Man to Sin did lead?
Yet since her Seed hath bruis'd the serpent's Head:
Why should she be made a publick scorn,
Of whom the great Almighty God was born?
Surely to speak one slighting Word, must be
A kind of murmuring Impiety:
But still their greatest haters do prove such
Who formerly have loved them too much:
And from the proverb they are not exempt;
Too much Familiarity has bred contempt;
For they associate themselves with none,
But such whose Virtues like their own, are gone;
And with all those, and only those who be
Most boldly vers'd in their debauchery:
And as in Adam all Mankind did die,
They make all base for ones Immodesty;
Nay, make the name a kind of Magick Spell,
As if 'twould censure married Men to Hell.
Woman, ye Powers! the very Name's a Charm,
And will my Verseagainst all Criticks arm.
The Muses or Apollo doth inspire
Heroick Poets; but your's is a Fire,
Pluto from Hell did fend by Incubus,
Because we make their Hell less populous;
Or else you ne'er had damn'd the females thus:
But if so universally they are
Dispos'd to Mischief, what need you declare
Peculiar Faults, when all the World might see
With each approaching Morn a Prodigy:
Man curse dead Woman; I could hear as well
The black infernal Devils curse their Hell:
When there had been no such place we know,
If they themselves had not first made it so.
In Lust perhaps you others have excell'd,
And made all Whores that possibly would yield;
And courted all the Females in your way,
Then did design at last to make a Prey
Of some pure Virgins; or what's almost worse,
Make some chaste Wives to merit a Divorce.
But 'cause they hated your insatiate Mind,
Therefore you call what's Virtuous Unkind:
And Disappointments did your Soul perplex;
So in meer spight you curse the female Sex.
I would not judge you thus, only I find
You would adulterate all Womankind,
Not only with your Pen; you higher soar;
You'd exclude marriage, make the World a Whore.
But if all Men should of your humor be
And should rob Hymen of his Deity,
They soon would find the Inconveniency.
Then hostile Spirits would be forc'd to Peace,
Because the World so slowly would increase.
They would be glad to keep their Men at home,
And each want more to attend his Throne;
Nay, should an English Prince resolve that he
would keep the number of of's Nobility:
And this dull custom some few years maintin'd,
There would be none less than a Peer oth' land.
And I do fancy 'twould be pretty sport
To see a Kingdom cramb'd into a Court.
Sure a strange world, when one should nothing see,
unless a Baudy House or Nunnery.
Or should this Act ere pass, woman would fly
With unthought swiftness, to each Monastry
And in dark Caves secure her Chastity.
She only in a Marriage-Bed delights;
The very Name of Whore her Soul affrights.
And when that sacred Ceremony's gone,
Woman I am sure will chuse to live alone.
There's none can number all those vertuous Dames
Which chose cold death before their lovers flames.
The chast Lucretia whom proud Tarquin lov'd,
Her he slew, her chastity she prov'd.
But I've gone further than I need have done,
Since we have got examples nearer home.
Witness those Saxon Ladies who did fear
The loss of Honour when the Danes were here:
And cut their Lips and Noses that they might
Not pleasing seem, or give the Danes delight.
Thus having done what they could justly do,
At last they fell their sacrifices too.
Thus when curst Osbright courted Beon's wife,
She him refus'd with hazard of her life.
And some which I do know but will not name,
Have thus refus'd and hazarded the same.
I could say more, but History will tell
Many more things that do these excel.
In Constancy they men excell as far
A heavens bright lamp doth a dull twinckling star.
Tho' man is alwaies altering of his mind,
Inconstancy is only in womankind.
'Tis something strange, no hold, it isn't because
The men have had the power of making Laws;
For where is there that man that ever dy'd,
Or ere expired with his loving Bride.
But numerous trains of chast wives expire
With their dear Husbands, tho in flames of fire:
We'd do the same if custom did require.
But this is done by indian women, who
Do make their Constancy immortal too,
As is their Fame: We find India yields
More glorious Phoenix than the Arabian fields.
The German women Constancy did shew
When Wensberg was besieged, beg'd they might go
Out of the City, with no bigger Packs
Than each of them could carry on their Backs.
The wond'ring world expected they'd have gone
Laded with treasures from their native home,
But crossing expectation each did take
Her Husband as her burden on her back.
So saved him from intended death, and she
At once gave him both life and liberty.
How many loving wives have often dy'd:
Drownded in tears by their cold husbands side.
And when a Sword was Executioner,
the very same hath executed her,
With he own hands; eagerly meeting death,
And scorn'd to live when he was void of breath.
If this isn't Constancy, why then the Sun
With constant Motion don't his progress run.
There's thousands of examples that will prove,
Woman is alwayes Constant in chast Love.
But when she's courted only to some Lust,
She well may change, I think the reason's just.
Change did I say, that word I must forbear,
No, she bright Star wont wander from her sphere
Of Virtue (in which Female Souls do move)
Nor will she joyn with an insatiate love.
For she whose first espoused to vertue must
Be most inconstant, when she yields to Lust.
But now the scene is alter'd, and those who
were esteemed modest by a blush or two,
Are represented quite another way,
Worse than mocke-verse doth the most solid Play.
She that takes pious Precepts for her Rule,
Is thought by some a kind of ill-bred fool;
they would have all bred up in Venus School.
And when that by her speech or carriage, she
Doth seem to have sence of a Diety,
She straight is taxt with ungentility.
Unless it be the little blinded Boy,
That Childish god, Cupid, that trifling toy,
That certain nothing, whom they feign to be
The Son of venus daughter to the Sea.
But were he true, none serve him as they shoud,
For commonly those who adore this god,
Do't only in a melancholy mood;
Or else a sort of hypocrites they are,
Who do invocate him only as a snare.
And by him they do sacred love pretend,
When as heaven knows, they have a baser end.
Nor is he god of love; but if I must
Give him a title, then he is god of lust.
And surely Woman impious must be
When e're she doth become his votary,
Unless she will believe without controul,
Those that did hold a Woman had no Soul:
And then doth think no obligation lyes
On her to act what may be just or wise.
And only strive to please her Appetite,
And to embrace that which doth most delight.
And when she doth this paradox believe,
Whatever faith doth please she may receive.
She may be Turk, Jew, Atheist, Infidel,
Or any thing, cause she need ne'er fear Hell,
For if she hath no Soul what need she fear
Something she knows not what or when or where.
But hold I think I should be silent now,
Because a Womans Soul you do allow.
But had we none you'd say we had, else you
Could never damn us at the rate you do.
What dost thou think thou hast priviledge given,
That those whom thou dost bless shall mount to
And those thou cursest unto hell must go. (heaven,
And so dost think to fill the Abiss below
Quite full of Females, hoping there may be
No room for souls big with vice as thee.
But if that thou with such vain hopes should'st dye
I'th fluid Air, thou must not think to fly,
Or enter into heaven, thy weight of Sin
Would crush the damn'd, and so thoud'st enter in.
But hold, I am uncharitable here,
Thou may'st repent, tho' that's a thing I fear.
But if thou should'st repent, why then again
It would at best but mitigate thy pain,
Because thou hast been vile to that degree,
That thy repentance must eternal be.
For wert thou guilty of no other crime
Than what thou lately puttest into Rhime,
Why that without other offences given,
Were enough to shut the gate of Heaven.
But when together's put all thou do,
It will not only shut but bar it too.
For when Heaven made woman it design'd
Her for the charming object of mankind.
Nor is alter'd only with those who
Set Bewly, Stratford, nay and Cheswell too,
Or other Bawds, chase their acquaintance out,
And then what they must be we make no doubt.
'Tis to make heaven mistaken when you say
It meant one and it proves another way.
For when heaven with its last greatest care,
Had form'd a female charming bright and fair,
Why then immediately it did decree,
That unto man she should a blessing be,
And so should prove to all posterity.
And surely tehre is nothing can be worse
Than for to turn a blessing to a curse.
And when the greatest blessing heaven ere gave,
And certainly the best that man could have.
When that's scorn'd and contemn'd sure it must be
A great affront unto heaven's majesty.
But I hope Heaven will punish the offence,
And with it justifie our Innocence.
I must confess there are some bad, and they
Lead by an Ignis fatus, go astray:
All are not forc'd to wander in false way.
Only some few whose dark benighted sence,
For want of light han't power to make defence
Against those many tempting pleasures, which
Not only theirs but Masculine Souls bewitch.
But you'd persuade us, that 'tis we alone
Are guilty of all crimes and you have none,
Unless some few, which you call fools, (who be
Espous'd to wives, and live in chastity.)
But the most rational without which we
Doubtless shou'd question your Humanity.
And I would praise them more only I fear
If I should do't it would make me appear
Unto the World much fonder than i be
Of that same State, for I love Liberty,
Nor do I think there's a necessity
For all to enter Beds, like Noah's beast
Into his Ark; I would have some releast
From the dear cares of that lawful State:
Hold I'll not dictate, I'll leave all Fate.
Nor would I have the World to think that I
Through a despair do Nuptial Joys defy.
For in the World so little I have been
That I've but half a revolution seen
Of Saturn, only I do think it best
For those who love to contemplate at rest,
For to live single too, and then they may
Uninterupted, Natures Work survey.
And had my Antagonist spent his time
Making true Verse instead of spiteful Rhime,
As a Female Poet, he had gain'd some praise,
But now his malice blasts his twig of Bays.
I do not wish you had, for I believe
It is impossible for to deceive
Any with what you write, because that you
may insert things supposed true.
And if by supposition I may go,
Then I'll suppose all men are wicked too,
Because I'm sure there's many that are so.
And 'cause you have made Whores of all you could,
So if you durst, you'd say all Women would.
Which words do only argue guilt and spite:
All makes you cheap in ev'ry mortals fight.
And it doth shew that you have alwaies been
Only with Women guilty of that Sin.
You nere desired nor were you fit for those
Whose modest carriage doth their minds disclose.
And Sir, methinks you do describe so well
The way and manner Bewley enter'd Hell,
As if your love for her had made you go
Down to the black infernal shades below.
But I suppose you never was so near,
For if you had, you scarce would have been here,
For had they seen, they'd kept you there.
Unless they thought when ere it was you came,
Your hot entrance might encrease the flame.
If burning Hell add to their extreme pain,
And so were glad to turn you off again.
And likewise, also I believe beside,
That one thing more might be their haughty pride.
They knew you Rival'd them in all their Crimes,
Wherewith they could debauch the willing times.
And as fond mortals hate a rival, they
Loving through Pride, were loath to let you stay,
For fear that you might their black deeds excel,
Usurp their Seat and be the Prince of Hell.
But I believe that you will let your hate
Ore rule your bride, and you'll not wish the State
Of coverning, because your deceived mind,
Persuades your Subjects will be Women kind.
But I believe when it comes the tryal,
Ask but for ten and you'll have the denial.
You'd think your self far happier than you be,
Were you but half so sure of heaven as we.
But when you are in hell if you should find
More then I speak of, think heaven design'd
Them for a part of your Eternal Fate,
Because they're things which you so much do hate.
But why you should do so I cannot tell,
Unless 'tis what makes you in love with hell:
And having fallen out with Goodness, you
Must have Antipathy 'gainst Woman too.
For virtue and they are so near ally'd
That none can their mutual tyes divide.
Like Light and Heat, incorporate they are,
And interwove with providential care
But I'm too dull to give my Sex due praise,
The task befits a Laureat Crown'd with bays:
And yet all he can say, will be but small,
A Copy differs from the original.
For should he sleep under Parnassus Hill,
Implore the Muses for to guide his Quill.
And shou'd they help him, yet his praise would seem
At best but undervailluing disesteem.
For he would come so short of what they are
His lines won't with one single Act compare.
But to say truest, is to say that she
Is Good and Virtuous unto that degree
As you pretend she's Bad, and that's beyond
Imagination, 'cause you set no bound,
And then one certain definition is
To say that she doth comprehend all Bliss
And that she's all that's pious, chaste and true,
Heroick, constant, nay, and modest too:
The later Virtue is a thing you doubt,
But 'tis 'cause you nere sought to find it out.
You question where there's such a thing or no,
'Tis only 'cause you hope you've lost a foe,
A hated object, yet a stranger too.
I'll speak like you, if such a thing there be,
I'm certain that she doth not dwell with thee.
Thou art Antipodes to that and unto all
That's Good, or that we simply civil call.
From yokes of goodness, thou'st thy self releast,
Turn'd Bully Hector, and a humane Beast.
That Beasts do speak it rarely comes to pass,
Yet you may paralell with Baldam's Ass.
You do describe a woman so that one
Would almost think she had the Fiends outdone:
As if at her strange birth did shine no star,
Or Planet, but furies in conjunction were;
And did conspire what mischief they should do,
Each act his part and her with plagues pursue,
'Tis false in her yet tis sum'd up in you.
You almost would perswade one that you thought
That providence to a low ebb was brought;
And that to Eve and Jezabell was given
Souls of so great extent that heaven was driven
Into a Straight, and liberality
Had made her void of wanting, to supply
These later bodies, she was forc'd to take
Their fouls asunder, and so numbers make,
And transmigrate them into others and
Still shift them as she finds the matters stand.
'Tis 'cause they are the worst makes me believe
You must imagine Jezabel and Eve.
But I'm no Pythagorean to conclude
One Soul could serve for Abraham and Jude.
Or think that heaven so bankrupt or so poor,
But that each body has one soul or more.
I do not find our Sex so near ally'd,
Either in disobedience or in pride,
Unto the 'bovenamed Females (for I'm sure
They are refin'd, or else were alwaies pure)
That I must needs conceit their fouls the same,
Tho' I confess there's some that merit blame:
But yet their faults only thus much infer,
That we're not made so perfect but may err;
Which adds much lustre to a virtuous mind,
And 'tis her prudence makes her Soul confin'd
Within the bounds of goodness, for if she
Was all perfection, unto that degree
that 'twas impossible to do amiss,
Why heaven not she must have the praise of this.
But she's in such a state as she may fall,
And without care her freedom may enthrall.
But to keep pure and free in such a case,
Argues each virtue with its proper grace.
And as a womans composition is
Most soft and gentle, she has happiness
In that her soul is of that nature too,
And yields to any thing that heaven will do,
Takes an impression when 'tis seal'd in heaven,
Turns to a cold refusal, when 'tis given
By any other hand: She's all divine,
And by a splendid lustre doth outshine
All masculine souls, who only seem to be
Made up of pride and their lov'd luxury.
So great's mans ambition that he would
Have all the wealth and power if he could,
That is bestowed on the several Thrones
Of the worlds Monarchs, covets all their Crowns.
And by experience it hath been found
The word Ambition's not an empty sound.
There's not an history which doth not shew
Man's pride, ambition and his falshood too.
For if at any time th'ambitious have
Least shew of honour, then their souls grow brave,
Grow big and restless, they are not at ease,
'Till they have a more fatal way to please,
Look fair and true, when falsely they intend;
So from low Subject, grow a Monarch's Friend
And by grave Councels they their good pretend,
When 'tis guilt poyson and oft works their end.
The Son who must succeed, is too much loved,
Must be pull'd down (his Councel is approved)
For fear he willingly should grow too great,
Desire to rule, should mount his father's Seat.
So he's dispatch'd, and then all those that be
Next in the way are his adherency.
And then the better to secure the state,
It is but just they should receive his fate.
So by degrees he for himself makes room,
His Prince is straightway shut up in his Tomb,
And then the false usurper mounts the Throne.
Or would do so at least but commonly
He nere sits firm, but with revenge doth dy, (high,
But thank heaven there's but few that reach so
For the known crimes makes a wise Prince take care.
thus what I've said doth plainly shew there are
Men more impious than a woman far.
So those who by their abject fortune are
Remote from Courts no less their pride declare,
In being uneasie and envying all who be
Above them, in State, or Priority.
But 'tis impossible for to relate
their boundless Pride, or their prodigious hate,
To all that fortune hath but smil'd upon,
In a degree that is above their own.
And thou proud fool, that virtue would'st subdue,
Envying all good dost towre ore woman too,
Which doth betray a base ignoble mind,
Speaks thee nothing but a blustring wind.
But in so great a lab'rinth as man's pride,
I should not enter, nor won't be imply'd,
For to search out their strange and unknown crimes,
there's so many apparent in these times,
That my dull Arithmetick cannot tell
Half the sins that commonly do dwell
In one sordid Rustick, then how can I
Define the Courts or Towns Debauchery.
Their pride in some small measure I have shown,
But theirs is running over and prest down;
And 'tis impossible I should repeat
The crimes of men extravagantly great,
I would not name them, but to let them see
I know they're bad and odious unto me
'Tis true, pride makes men great in their own eyes,
But them proportionable I despise;
And tho' Ambition still aims to be high,
Yet Lust at best is but beastiality;
A Sin with which there's none can compare,
Not Pride nor Envy, &c. for this doth insnare,
Not only those whom it at first inflam'd,
This Sin must have a partner to be sham'd,
And punish'd like himself. Hold, one wont do,
He must have more, for he doth still pursue
The Agents of his Passion; 'tis not Wise,
That Mutual Name can regulate his Life:
And tho's he for his Lust might have a shrowd,
And there might be poligamy allow'd,
Yet all his Wives would surely be abhorr'd,
And some common Laws be ador'd.
Most mortally the Name of Wife they hate,
Yet they will take one as their proper fate,
That they may have a Child legitimate,
To be their Heir, if they have an Estate,
Or else to bear their Names. So, for by ends,
they take a Wife, and satisfie their friends,
Who are delirious that it should be so,
And for that end, perhaps, Estates bestow;
Which, when possess'd, is spent another way;
The Spurious Issue do the right betray,
And with their Mother-Strumpets are maintain'd;
The Wife and children by neglect disdain'd,
Wretched an dpoor unto their Friends return,
Having got nothing, unless cause to mourn.
The Dire Effects of Lust I cannot tell,
For I suppose its Catalogue's in Hell;
And he perhaps at last may read it there,
Written in flames, fierce as his own whilst here.
I could say more, but yet not half that's done
By these strange Creatures, nor is there scarce one
Of these inhumane Beasts that do not die
As bad as Bewley's Pox turns leprosie,
And Men do catch it by meer phantasie.
Tho' they are chast and honest. yet it doth
Pursue them, and some company on oath
They have been in, and their infected breath
Gave them that plague, which hast'neth their death,
Or else 'tis Scurvy, or some new disease,
As the base wretch or vain Physician please,
And then a sum of Money must be gave
For to keep corruption from the grave;
And then 'tis doubled, for to hide the cheat:
(O the sad Horror of debaucht deceit!)
The Body and estate together go.
And then the only Objects here below,
On which he doth his charity bestow,
Are Whores and Quacks, and perhaps Pages too
Must have a share, or else they will reveal
That which money doth make them conceal.
Sure trusty Stewards of extensive heaven,
When what's for common good is only given
Unto peculiar friends of theirs, who be
Slaves to their lust, friending debauchery;
These are partakers of as great a fate
As those whose boldness turns them reprobate,
And tho' a Hypocrite doth seem all one,
One hides, and t'other tells what he hath done;
But if one Devil's better than another,
Than one of these is better than the t'other:
Hypocrisie preheminence should have,
(Tho' it ha'nt got the priviledge to save)
Because the reprobate's example may,
By open Custom, make the rugged way
Seem more smooth, and a common sin
Look more pardonable, and so by him
More take example, 'tis he strives to win.
mad Souls, to fill up Hell! But should there be
Nothing e're acted but Hypocrisie,
Yet Man would be as wicked as he is,
And be no nearer eternal bliss;
For he who's so unsteady, as to take
Example by such Men, should never make
Me to believe, that he was really chast,
And, without pattern, never had imbrac't:
Such kind of sins as best such virtues weak,
That with such a slender stress will break,
And that's no virtue which cannot withstand
A slight temptation at the second hand:
But I believe on emight as narrowly pry
For't, as the Grecian did for honesty,
And yet find none; and then if Women be
Averse to't too, sure all's iniquity
On this side Heaven, and it with justice went
Up thither, 'cause here is found no content,
But did regardless and neglected ly,
And with an awful distance was past by.
Instead of hiding their prodigious Acts,
They do reveal, brag of their horrid Facts;
Unless it be some few who hide them 'cause
they would not seem to violate those laws
Which with their tongues they'r forc'd for to maintain,
Being grave Counsellers or Aldermen,
Or else the Wives Relations are alive,
And then, if known, some other way they'l drive
Their golden wheels, that way doth seem uneven,
Then the Estate most certainly is given
Some other way, or else 'tis sealed so
As he may never have it to bestow,
Upon his Lusts, therefore he doth seem
For to have a very great esteem
For his pretended Joy; but when her friends
Are dead, then he his cursed life defends,
With what they leave; then the unhappy wife,
With her dear children, lead an horrid life,
And the estate's put to another use,
And their great kindness turn'd an abuse;
And should I strive their falsehood to relate,
Then I should have but Sisiphus his fate,
For Man is so inconstant and untrue,
He's like a shadow which one doth pursue,
Still flies from's word, nay and perfidious too.
An Instance too of Infidelity
We have in Egypt's false King Ptolomy,
Who, tho' he under obligations were,
For to protect Pompey from the snare,
Who fled to him for succour, yet base he
Did command his death most treacherously;
He was inconstant too, or else design'd
The same at first, so alter'd words not mind,
Which is much worse, for when that one doth speak
With a full resolution, for to break
One's word and oath, surely it must be
A greater crime than an inconstancy,
Which is as great failing in the Soul
As any sin that reason doth controul,
But I designed for to be short, so must
Be sure for to keep firm unto the first
That I resolved, or else should reprove
These faults which first I ought for to remove;
Therefore, with Brutus, I this point will end,
Who, tho he ought to have been Caesar's friend,
By being declared his Heir, yet it was he
Was the first actor in his tragedy:
Perfidious and ungrateful and untrue
He was at once, nay and disloyal too:
A thousand instances there might be brought,
(Not far fetch'd, tho' they were dearly bought)
To prove that Man more false than Woman is,
More unconstant, nay and more perfidious:
But these are crimes which hell, (I'm sure not heaven)
As they pretend, hath peculiar given
Unto our Sex, but 'tis as false as they,
And that's more false than any one can say.
All Pride and Lust too to our charge they lay,
As if in sin we all were so sublime
As to monopolize each hainous crime;
Nay, Womannow is made the scape-goat, and
'Tis she msut bear sins of all the land:
But I believe there's not a Priest that can
Make an atonement for one single man,
Nay, it is well if he himself can bring
An humble, pious heart for th' offering;
A thing which ought to be inseparable
To men o'th' Gown and of the Sacred Table;
Yet it is sometimes wanting, and they be
Too often sharers of Impiety:
But howsoever the strange World now thrives,
I must not look in my teachers lives,
But methinks the World doth seem to be
Nought but confusion and degeneracy,
Each Man's so eager of each fatal sin,
As if he fear'd he should not do't again;
Yet still his soul is black, he is the same
At all times, tho' he doth not act all flame,
Because he opportunity doth want,
And to him always there's not a grant
Of objects for to excercise his will,
And for to shew his great and mighty skill
In all sciences diabolical,
But when he meets with those which we do call
Base and unjust, why then his part he acts
Most willingly, and then with hell contracts
To do the next thing that they should require;
And being thus inflamed with hellish fire,
He doth to any thing it doth desire,
Unless 'twere possible for hell to say,
They should be good, for then they'd disobey.
I am not sorry for you do females hate,
But rather reckon we're more fortunate,
because I find, when you'r right understood,
You are at enmity with all that's good,
And should you love them, I should think they were
A growing bad, but still keep as you are:
I need not bid you, for you must I'm sure,
And in your present wretched state indure;
'Tis an impossible you should be true,
As for a Woman to act like to you,
Which I am sure will not accomplish'd be,
Till heaven's turn'd hell, and that's repugnancy;
And when vice is virtue you shall have
A share of that which makes most Females brave,
Which transmutations I am sure can't be;
So thou must lie in vast eternity,
With prospect of thy endless misery,
When Woman, your imagin'd Fiend, shall live
Bless'd with the Joys that Heaven can always give.