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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The Woman's Warre; Or, the Dutch beat to Dirt by the Frowes.
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The Woman's Warre; Or, the Dutch beat to Dirt by the Frowes.
But are the Hogan Mogan grown so tame,
The Belgick Lyon made the Womans game?
Shall thus the froward Frowes with Basting ladle,
Unstate the States out of the stately Sadle?
Are they so childish grown? so dead i'th Nest,
They must again by Women be undrest?
To what a daring height will that Sex grow,
If Lords, like Infants, must be swaddel'd so?
What, is the Stathouse then turn'd School? that they
Must have School-mistresses their Points untie.
Are these the Chair-women to sweep the Rome?
I fear me, they have swept it with Trump's broom.
Who would a Sweeper of the Sea have bin,
But Reformation they at home begin;
For these Virago's having other Ends,
Did their own Stathouse first of Cobwebs cleanse.
Frowes, that in private House no dirt endure,
Will not allow it in the Publick sure.
Who then knows whether the Precedencie,
Belongs to valour, or good huswiferie!
The Belgick Lyon made the Womans game?
Shall thus the froward Frowes with Basting ladle,
Unstate the States out of the stately Sadle?
Are they so childish grown? so dead i'th Nest,
They must again by Women be undrest?
To what a daring height will that Sex grow,
If Lords, like Infants, must be swaddel'd so?
What, is the Stathouse then turn'd School? that they
Must have School-mistresses their Points untie.
Are these the Chair-women to sweep the Rome?
I fear me, they have swept it with Trump's broom.
Who would a Sweeper of the Sea have bin,
But Reformation they at home begin;
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Did their own Stathouse first of Cobwebs cleanse.
Frowes, that in private House no dirt endure,
Will not allow it in the Publick sure.
Who then knows whether the Precedencie,
Belongs to valour, or good huswiferie!
The word quoth Frow, and then she beards the Lord,
Strange Army sure, where Women ask the word!
The word, the Souldiers guard, to Women give!
Nay, then trust Aqua Vitæ in a Sive.
They ask the word? I wou'd have given 'um none:
Women will give a hundred words for one:
I should have thought, soon as they were so bold,
To ask the word, they meant forth-with to scold.
Give 'um the word; Give 'um the Breeches too:
Custome has taught the Sex first give it you.
Come, come, the Proverb our belief does wrong,
Woman has other weapons than her tongue.
Doubtless their duty they do much neglect,
Where Men do ill, and women must correct.
If Husbands thus be under hatches pent?
Next News will be a Woman-Parliament.
Where all for order-sake must out of course,
Bells ring the Ropes, and the Cart draw the Horse.
What then? you must a second Chaos see,
Of all things in the Female Anarchie.
The servile Sex the nobler will decrest;
And turn Low-Country Amazons at least.
Where Hercules himself must once again,
Lay by his Club, and with his Distaff spin.
What is't the Dutch must not of out-rage feel,
When Holland Gorgets are turn'd into steel.
What can expected be, where Females sway,
Where they have sworn, and ought too, to obey
Men, that should be the head, must be the taile,
When Petticoats put on the Coat of Male.
If thus the Ladies lead the Lords a dance,
No Saladine must any shirt advance.
The Hogan Frowes would now, (O pretty sport)
Because they kept the Shop well, keep the Court,
The English Dames that once subdu'd the Danes,
With honour were rewarded for their pains:
Whereat the Frowes to make their glory such,
Wou'd Dane their Lords, and do for them as much.
Wou'd these be thought the Soveraigns of the Seas
Lords, thus Bear-garden'd with Mal-Cut-purses?
Strange Army sure, where Women ask the word!
The word, the Souldiers guard, to Women give!
Nay, then trust Aqua Vitæ in a Sive.
They ask the word? I wou'd have given 'um none:
Women will give a hundred words for one:
I should have thought, soon as they were so bold,
To ask the word, they meant forth-with to scold.
Give 'um the word; Give 'um the Breeches too:
Custome has taught the Sex first give it you.
Come, come, the Proverb our belief does wrong,
Woman has other weapons than her tongue.
Doubtless their duty they do much neglect,
Where Men do ill, and women must correct.
If Husbands thus be under hatches pent?
Next News will be a Woman-Parliament.
Where all for order-sake must out of course,
Bells ring the Ropes, and the Cart draw the Horse.
What then? you must a second Chaos see,
Of all things in the Female Anarchie.
The servile Sex the nobler will decrest;
And turn Low-Country Amazons at least.
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Lay by his Club, and with his Distaff spin.
What is't the Dutch must not of out-rage feel,
When Holland Gorgets are turn'd into steel.
What can expected be, where Females sway,
Where they have sworn, and ought too, to obey
Men, that should be the head, must be the taile,
When Petticoats put on the Coat of Male.
If thus the Ladies lead the Lords a dance,
No Saladine must any shirt advance.
The Hogan Frowes would now, (O pretty sport)
Because they kept the Shop well, keep the Court,
The English Dames that once subdu'd the Danes,
With honour were rewarded for their pains:
Whereat the Frowes to make their glory such,
Wou'd Dane their Lords, and do for them as much.
Wou'd these be thought the Soveraigns of the Seas
Lords, thus Bear-garden'd with Mal-Cut-purses?
If Women thus break the Republick pate?
Faith, we must have a Riding for the State.
Faith, we must have a Riding for the State.
Hæc jam fœminea vidimus acta manu.
Mart. Ep.
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