Wit's business is to please, and not to fright;
'Tis no wit to be always in the right;
You'll find it none, who dare be foto-night.
Few fo ill-bred will venture to a play,
To fpy out faults in what we women say.
For us, no matter what we fpeak, but how :
How kindly can we say ------I hate you now!
And for the men, if you 'll laugh at them, do;
They mind themselves so much, they'll ne'er mind you.
But why do I defcend to lose a prayer
On those small faints in wit? the god fits there!
To you (Great SIR) my message hither tends,
From Youth and Beauty, your allies and friends;
See my credentials written in my face,
They challenge your protection in this place;
And hither come with fuch a force of charms,
As may give check ev'n to your profperous arms.
Millions of Cupids hovering in the rear,
Like eagles following fatal troops, appear:
All waiting for the flaughter which draws nigh,
Of those bold gazers who this night must die.
Nor can you 'scape our foft captivity,
From which old age alone must set you free.
Then tremble at the fatal confequence,
Since 'tis well known, for your own part, great Prince,
'Gainst us you still have made a weak defence.
Be generous and wife, and take our part;
Remember we have eyes, and you a heart;