What strange surprise to meet such words as these, | |
Such terms of horror were ne’er chose to please, | |
To meet, midst pleasures of a jovial night, | |
Words that can only give amaze and fright, | |
| 5 | No gentler thought that does to love invite. |
Were it not better far your arms t’employ | |
Grasping a lover in pursuit of joy | |
Than handling sword and pen, weapons unfit? | |
Your sex gains conquest by their charms and wit. | |
| 10 | Of writers slain I could with pleasure hear, |
Approve of fights, o’er joyed to cause a tear; | |
So slain, I mean, that she should soon revive, | |
Pleased in my arms to find herself alive. |