Poems or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson |
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A Vindication of the Vizor-Mask.
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106
A Vindication of the Vizor-Mask.
Then trouble me no more, but go and ask
Astronomers why Luna wears a Mask.
Or, why the Stars, that of themselves are bright?
For want of shadows, make a Mask of Light?
If, as to these, you ignorance confess,
How dares your rudeness then attach my dress?
Whose Subterfuge, I take but in Extreams,
Of the Face-sullying foggs, and sultry beams.
Astronomers why Luna wears a Mask.
Or, why the Stars, that of themselves are bright?
For want of shadows, make a Mask of Light?
If, as to these, you ignorance confess,
How dares your rudeness then attach my dress?
Whose Subterfuge, I take but in Extreams,
Of the Face-sullying foggs, and sultry beams.
In softest skins my tender hands I case,
And wou'd you have me weather-beat my face?
But hold; the fashion moves you, it appears,
'Cause it wants tape to tack it to my eares.
Or cause it wants, and that's the cause I doubt,
My Grandum's Chin-cloth here, to eke it out.
No, I shall put my Mask on here, and save
My Mufler for my portage to my Grave.
A suitable, though subtle field's my Vaile,
Richer by far than yours, parte per pale.
You say it covers both, my Cheeks and Chin,
And tell me, pray Sir, are not they a kin?
But here's the matter makes my Mask unmeet,
It hides my face, 'tis like when you wou'd see't.
If so? I am, and with a just Excuse,
In pitty to your weakness, a Recluse.
For fearing a Surprize, my Face I hid,
Lest I should tempt you with the fruit forbid.
You say you know me not, what then? the Tree
Of Knowledg has a Root of Miserie.
You tell us thousand stories in your Books,
That Women wound ye with their very looks.
Mine may be ponyards for ought you e're saw.
And are you angry that I do not draw?
Mischiefs have Dragons Eyes, be wise, and keep
Pandora's Box shut, and let Lions sleep.
Be n't so fool-hardy, and so fond of death,
To dare out Steel, that slumbers in its sheath:
Consider but, it is as safe to stare,
Upon a Basilisk, as her that's fair,
And have no hope; if she be otherwise?
Her Mask is then a mercy to thine Eyes.
Say I am to a state of Marriage come,
Do I not well to keep my Face at home?
Or, if unmarry'd; tell me why I should,
Keep open shop, where nothing's to be sold;
Given, or parted with; but say there were;
Believe it, 'tis but to one Customer?
And to direct him to this heart of mine,
I need not set my Face out for a sign.
Thus Maid or marry'd fair, foul, what you will,
The Vizor-Mask carries a favour still.
And wou'd you have me weather-beat my face?
But hold; the fashion moves you, it appears,
'Cause it wants tape to tack it to my eares.
Or cause it wants, and that's the cause I doubt,
My Grandum's Chin-cloth here, to eke it out.
No, I shall put my Mask on here, and save
My Mufler for my portage to my Grave.
A suitable, though subtle field's my Vaile,
Richer by far than yours, parte per pale.
107
And tell me, pray Sir, are not they a kin?
But here's the matter makes my Mask unmeet,
It hides my face, 'tis like when you wou'd see't.
If so? I am, and with a just Excuse,
In pitty to your weakness, a Recluse.
For fearing a Surprize, my Face I hid,
Lest I should tempt you with the fruit forbid.
You say you know me not, what then? the Tree
Of Knowledg has a Root of Miserie.
You tell us thousand stories in your Books,
That Women wound ye with their very looks.
Mine may be ponyards for ought you e're saw.
And are you angry that I do not draw?
Mischiefs have Dragons Eyes, be wise, and keep
Pandora's Box shut, and let Lions sleep.
Be n't so fool-hardy, and so fond of death,
To dare out Steel, that slumbers in its sheath:
Consider but, it is as safe to stare,
Upon a Basilisk, as her that's fair,
And have no hope; if she be otherwise?
Her Mask is then a mercy to thine Eyes.
Say I am to a state of Marriage come,
Do I not well to keep my Face at home?
Or, if unmarry'd; tell me why I should,
Keep open shop, where nothing's to be sold;
Given, or parted with; but say there were;
Believe it, 'tis but to one Customer?
108
I need not set my Face out for a sign.
Thus Maid or marry'd fair, foul, what you will,
The Vizor-Mask carries a favour still.
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