Or, when you next your physick take,
I must entreat you then to make
A proper application;
'Tis what I've done myself before,
With Dan's fine thoughts, and many more,
Who gave me provocation.
What cannot mighty anger do?
It makes the weak the strong pursue,
A goose attack a swan;
It makes a woman, tooth and nail,
Her husband's hands and face assail,
While he's no longer man.
Though some, we find, are more discreet,
Before the world are wondrous sweet,
And let their husbands hector:
But, when the world's asleep, they wake,
That is the time they choose to speak;
Witness the curtain lecture.
Such was the case with you, I find:
All day you could conceal your mind;
But when St. Patrick's chimes
Awak'd your Muse (my midnight curse,
When I engag'd for better for worse)
You scolded with your rhymes.
Have done! have done! I quit the field,
To you, as to my wife, I yield:
As she must wear the breeches:
So shall you wear the laurel crown,
Win it, and wear it, 'tis your own;
The poet's only riches.
BEC'S
