University of Virginia Library

DIALOGUE.

FOR THREE YOUNG LADIES.

'Tis a beautiful morning, come girls let us go
And rumage the shops; there 's an elegant show
Of caps, hats, and bonnets; some trim'd with a feather,
Some with flowers, some plain, the whole put together,
Enough to bewitch you; why don't you make haste?

Mary.
Because I shan't go; I've no money to waste.
Mamma has just bought me a hat for the season,
And a dress for the balls.

Lucy.
Lud child, that's no reason
For staying at home, when the shops are so full
Of fashions, of belles and of beaux.—

Mary.
I'm so dull
Dear sister, to me 'tis no pleasure to fly
From shop, into shop, without meaning to buy.
Turning over the goods till they're nearly destroy'd;
I think that we all may be better employ'd.

Rosa.
I think so indeed, now I have a plan,
That 'tis better than yours child, deny if you can,
As we've time on our hands, and the morning is fair;
Let us walk in the mall, for a little fresh air;
And when we return, by myself 'tis decreed,
While two of us work, that the other shall read.

Lucy.
My dear lady Wisdom, now pray condescend,
To tell us what book you would please recommend.
Some wise and political treatise perchance,
On the pride of Old England and power of France;
Or Bonaparte, wonderful hero, display,
Holding kingdoms in chains, keeping Europe at bay
And striding about to decide all disputes,
Like Woglog the giant in seven league boots.
Or a juggler at cards, who so dextrous and nice,
Can turn all his knaves into kings, in a trice.
So misses your servant; I would not be bound,
To read such dull stuff for a good hundred pound.

Rosa.
Why Lucy, by this giddy rattle I see,
You are wiser by far, than your sister and me,
In political lore; now to me I confess,
Instruction comes best in a fanciful dress.
I like a good novel—

Lucy.
Hush child if you do
You must not confess it; your wisdom to shew,
You must rail and look grave, say they're meant to mislead.

Mary.
And say what you will, coz, they are so indeed.

Rosa.
What, all?

Mary.
No; not all; some few we may find
Where piety, learning, and sense are combin'd;
Whose model is nature, whose pictures have art,
To shew life so true, that they better the heart.
But small is the number, while hundreds contain,
A slow subtle poison perverting the brain;
And who through a road wet and miry should wade
To seek for a pearl some rich man had mislaid;
Would surely contract so much soil in the way,
As the price of the jewel would hardly repay.

Lucy.
Oh! mercy! oh mercy! dear girls let me go,
You're so wise, and sententious, so learned, and so
Pedantic; I vow, but it is between friends,
I blush for you both, to my poor fingers ends.

Mary.
I am glad you can blush! but pray let it be known,
You blush some for our faults, but more for your own.
Yet trust me, 'twere better while staying at home,
Read fifty dull novels, than thoughtlessly roam;
Waste your own hours of leisure, and heedless of care
Destroy that for others you cannot repair;
Besides sister Lucy the truth I must tell,
Were there less foreign fashions 'twould be quite as well.

Lucy.
Why Mary, that sentiment comes out so pat,
I believe in my heart you're a strong democrat;
Who would talk of the internal strength of the nation,
Independently great; tho' we've no importation.
Bid us tremble at Britain, who seeks to enslave us;
But honour Napoleon, altho' he dares brave us.
Sell our jewels and plate, and be spare in our diet,
To make up a tribute to keep Woglog quiet.
For should he his seven league boots keep in motion,
Who knows but he'll stride o'er the great Western Ocean.

Rosa.
He come! he ask tribute! why Lucy you joke,
Such a measure would age, and mere childhood provoke
To link in a band, place on heav'n their reliance,
And hurt at the murd'rous usurper defiance.
Of superfluous baubles myself I'd divest,
My food should be coarse, and as coarse I'd be drest,
I'd cheerfully yield my paternal estate,
To defend this lov'd land, from the tyrant I hate
But girl as I am, if 'tis tribute requir'd,
I'd die e'er I'd give him one cent—

Mary.
Must admir'd,
Most excellent patriot, tell me for why
Your voice speaks in thunder, in lightning your eye?
Say where is the nation his power has withstood

Rosa.
He stole regal ermine, and stain'd it with blood;
Oh Mary, remember how Louis has died,
That Louis who fought on America's side,
That Louis whose crown now encircles the brows—

Lucy.
Of Woglog the giant, as all the world knows.
And which of us three has the power or spirit
To snatch off the crowns or the head? for the merit
Were equal in either.

Mary.
For shame, child, for shame.
I honour Napoleon, I rev'rence his name;
He's superior to all the fam'd heroes of old,
Invincible, noble, intrepid and bold.
As Socrates wise; as the Macedon glorious;
As a lawgiver sage; as a hero victorious.

Rosa.
From such sages and heroes heaven save us, I pray—

Lucy.
And keep from our shores mighty Woglog away;
For he sets the most dreadful examples in life,
And between you and I, beats and locks up his wife.
Heaven help her, poor soul, she's an empress 'tis true,
But I warrant she's oftentimes pinch'd black and blue.
Her chains, tho' of gold, she may keep for all me,
I'm content to be poor, tho' I may but be free.

Mary.
Oh, that's not a point, child, so hard to be carried,
You'll be poor while you live, and be free till you're married.
But get on your bonnets, we'll go if you please,
'Tis folly to talk of such matters as these;
Let kings ask for power, and misers for wealth,
Let us only pray for contentment and health.

Rosa.
But health and contentment would cease to be ours,
Should heavenly peace quit America's shores;
Oh! peace! gentle peace! beneath whose benign reign,
Best thrives the rich harvest that gladdens the plain;
Beneath whose auspices fair commerce sails forth,
Brings the gems of the east, and the furs of the north;
The treasures of India, Arabia's perfume,
The pearls of Bassora, the spoils of the loom
Beneficent power, thy pinions expand,
And shed thy best gifts on my dear native land.

Lucy.
In this we're united, for this ev'ry day
From demos and despots, I ardently pray,
Some power benign may deliver the nation;
But just now I confess, I've no great inclination
For that, or ought else, on my knees to be dropping;
I want to see fashions; come let's go a shopping.

Rosa.
It is better befitting our sex, age and station;
So we'll leave the more arduous cares of the nation—

Lucy.
To the wise and magnanimous lords of creation.