University of Virginia Library

Like Cunning Wives to cheat you to your Bliss,
We took the Garb and Humours of your Miss.
As gay,—as vain, and ayery we are grown;
And you, as brisk; as young Gallants came on:
And look as dull as they, now th'Act is done.
Since Non-sense, Noise, and Show still bear the Bell,
As wise Physicians do with Mad-men deal,
We humour you, to make you sooner well.
If this won't take—
T'insure our future charge, and Credit too,
As undertakers for great Volumes do.
We'l paint your Coats of Arms o'r ev'ry Scene,
And dedicate 'm t'ye to draw you in.

Poor Nonsy dreading the approaching storm,
Sits trembling like a Hare within her Form:
While Criticks swarm from ev'ry part o'th' Town,
Prepar'd with Damning noise to run her down:
She fears no Gen'rous Hunters, for they come
Only for sport, and would prevent her Doom.
She fears no snarling Fops, though ev'ry foot,
Like eager Lovers they will put her to't.
Still hunting close, and snatching at her Scut;
No, only sneaking Poachers, she can dread;
That with their long-tail'd Mungrils hunt for Bread,
And lurk in holes to knock her on the head.
You Gentlemen that for your pleasure came,
Let not those creeping Vermine kill your game:
Give her fair Law, and while in view she flies,
Your swelling hopes and sweet delights will rise:
But when you paunch her, all your pleasure dies.
Keep up your sport; and to prevent our sorrow,
Save her this night, and run her down to morrow.
Non-so.—Now to the Misses, thus poor Nonsy bends,
To leave no stone unturn'd to gain our ends.
You She-Weavers, that without lawless Engines, come;
Engines—
That like dark Lanthorns lurk in little Room,
And manage twenty Shuttles with one Loom:
While honest Lab'rers that can use but one,
For want of work lye still, and are undone.
Let all your Tools be stirring for your Aid,
Or we will burn your Engines, and destroy your Trade.