Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Amidst her gay and brilliant court,
Where shining beaus and belles resort;
To hear complaints in mighty state,
Aloft the queen of cards was sate:
When, busy bustling thro' the throng,
With hoop swung high, there came along
A small, important, vengeful ill,
First confidante of queen quadrille:
The lady seem'd quite out of breath,
And vow'd herself fatigu'd to death;
Play'd quick her fan, while heav'd her breast,
And eyes of anger spoke the rest.

“Well, such a thing,” was first her cry,
“I tremble for your majesty;
“Your empire sure can't last a minute,
“I never thought such rebels in it!”

Strait was the court in such a way—
The queen was fainting “hartshorn, pray!”
All the choice spirits in a hurry,
The ladies too in such a flurry:
Oh shocking! what can all this bring,
Haste—salts, drops, spirits—any thing!

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But now suppose 'em all much better,
And hear miss Mat. read o'er her letter:
“Long live and prosper, long the reign
Of our belov'd, high-favor'd queen:
Spadill. Bast. Pont. and so forth greeting—
Whereas (Sept. 4th, our last lov'd meeting,)
Some subjects loyally intending,
Your majesty's fair realms extending;
Good, honest, staunch and amicable,
Furnish'd with fish and cards the table:
And thinking nothing in their way,
Lo, a fair nymph refus'd to play:
Nay, and what more the crime compleated,
Tho' by a gentleman intreated!
Putting the rest in fear and fret
Of that day making up a set;
Endangering the state hereby,
And scandalizing majesty:
Wherefore we joint petition make,
The matter you'd in council take;
And punish such presumptuous beauty,
That others hence may know their duty.”
“Beauty! miss Mat. was then the cry,
“And entrè nous, and let me die,
“Was whisper'd loud from beau and belle,
“With stuff, meer stuff, Pha, Bagatelle;
“Nonsense!—But pray, to know her better,
“Describe this beauty,—La, poor creature!”

“Nay, I confess it is but small—
“And then her merit, none at all:
“(With haughty sneer miss Mat. went on)
“With us, she'd not be look'd upon:

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“For tho' her eyes are sweetly bright,
“And would kill thousands, if they might:
“She keeps them modestly at home,
“Nor lets their pointed ogles roam:
“Nor languishings with art bestows
“On all the circling group of beaus:
“And tho' her face and every feature
“Are well enough (there are much better!)
“Yet she has such an humble soul,
“So soft, so modest—little fool,
“I cou'd, methinks, almost despise her,
“But that all, all—'tis pity—prize her.”
She ended, and in all their ears
Left such contempt, that thousand sneers,
With thousand laughs loud issu'd forth,
With “passing beauty, passing worth,
To sentence, sentence, haste we duly;
Ah ridicule—fine beauty truly!”

'Twere tedious, readers, here to draw
The various forms of long-breath'd law;
Since just the same the women wore 'em
As the wise brethren of the quorum,
Tho' chance the shes were wordier, than
Their winking, wig-wise brethren;
For these, to country sessions run,—
Our sentence first, and we have done:

“To all and singular each one,
To whom these presents shall be known:
Whereas a nymph, Prestantia hight,
In manners' and our queen's despight,
Has ventur'd hardily to run
The vengeance of our gracious throne,

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Hereby enacting, we command
Our loyal subjects thro' the land,
With utmost rigor to fulfil,
Our just decree, and royal will.

First, we command pale Modesty,
With down-cast-ey'd Humility,
That bashful strumpet, Innocence,
That prude, miss Virtue; formal Sense;
The ideot, laughing child, Good-Nature,
Proud Honor, Softness, plaguing creature,
With all the train of such-like Graces,
With pious eyes, and holy faces,
Ever to plague her where she goes,
But chief amidst our friends, the beaus.

Next, that whene'er our friends are met,
And want one to compleat their set,
On no conditions whatsoe'er,
Their compliments be sent to Her.
And be it specially provided,
With secrets she be ne'er confided:
Such as tend chiefly to maintain
Our loving sister, Scandal's reign:
Nor bear a part in prittle-prattle,
Of rumor-loving tittle-tattle.
Nor may she feel that warmth of soul
Shar'd by true subjects on a vole,
And if she should attempt to play,
Be beasted all the live-long day:
And like ourselves, when luck runs cross,
Frown, snap, snarl, scowl, bounce, fret and toss:
May then no smiles her dimples shew,
No laughter blythe her ivory row;

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Nor well-conducted vengeance dart
From snow-white hand the gazer's heart.
And last of all, when thus contemn'd,
May she for ever be condemn'd
The sweets of liberty to lose,
Fast bound in tyrant husband's noose:
No beau:—a thing of wealth and sense,
With much of wisdom, and more pence,
To raise her cares, and drive about
In chariot with her see-saw lout;
Far from intrigue, dear rout, and drum,
With husband dull, and duller home:
And, worst of all, may prattlers many,
A Gilly, Betsy, Philly, Fanny,
Torment her, as they do her mother,
And render her just such another:
Mad to despise the dear beau-monde,
For children fair, and husband fond.”

Thus spake the learned of the laws,
The court malicious sneer'd applause;
Miss Mat. the sentence seiz'd and kist,
And strait to B---n was dismist.

1748.