Tramples alike on customs and on toes, And whispers all she hears to all she knows; Too soon a flirt, approach her and she flies! Frowns when pursued, and, when intreated, sighs! Plays with unhappy men as cats with mice; Till fading beauty hints the late advice. Her prudence dictates what her pride disdain'd, Then comes that good old character, a Wife, With all the dear, distracting cares of life; A thousand cards a day at doors to leave, And, in return, a thousand cards receive; Rouge high, play deep, to lead the ton aspire, Last the grey Dowager, in ancient flounces, With snuff and spectacles the age denounces! Boasts how the Sires of this degenerate Isle Knelt for a look, and duell'd for a smile; The scourge and ridicule of Goth and Vandal, Her tea she sweetens, as she sips, with scandal; With modern Belles eternal warfare wages, Like her own birds that clamour from their cages; And shuffles round to bear her tale to all, Like some old Ruin, nodding to its fall!' Thus WOMAN makes her entrance and her exit, Not least an actress when she least suspects it. Yet Nature oft peeps out and mars the plot, Each lesson lost, each poor pretence forgot; Full oft, with energy that scorns controul, At once lights up the features of the soul; Unlocks each thought chain'd down by coward Art, And to full day the latent passions start! -And she, whose first, best wish is your applause, Herself exemplifies the truth she draws. Born on the stage-thro' every shifting scene, Obscure or bright, tempestuous or serene, Still has your smile her trembling spirit fir'd! And can she act, with thoughts like these inspir'd? |