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V. HIS LADY AND CONVERSE

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Would bounteous Heaven once more indulge, I'd choose

(For who would so much satisfaction lose

As witty nymphs in conversation give?)

Near some obliging modest fair to live:

For there's that sweetness in a female mind,

Which in a man's we cannot [hope to] find;

That, by a secret but a powerful art,

Winds up the spring of life, and does impart

Fresh, vital heat to the transported heart.

I'd have her reason all her passions sway;

Easy in company, in private gay;

Coy to a fop, to the deserving free;

Still constant to herself, and just to me.

She should a soul have for great actions fit;

Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit;

Courage to look bold danger in the face,

Not fear, but only to be proud or base;

Quick to advise, by an emergence pressed,

To give good counsel, or to take the best.

I'd have th' expressions of her thoughts be such,

She might not seem reserved, nor talk too much:

That shows a want of judgment and of sense;

More than enough is but impertinence.

Her conduct regular, her mirth refined;

Civil to strangers, to her neighbours kind;

Averse to vanity, revenge, and pride;

In all the methods of deceit untried;

So faithful to her friend, and good to all,

No censure might upon her actions fall:

Then would e'en envy be compelled to say

She goes the least of womankind astray.

To this fair creature I'd sometimes retire;

Her conversation would new joys inspire;

Give life an edge so keen, no surly care

Would venture to assault my soul, or dare

Near my retreat to hide one secret snare.

But so divine, so noble a repast

I'd seldom, and with moderation, taste:

For highest cordials all their virtue lose,

By a too frequent and too bold an use;

And what would cheer the spirits in distress,

Ruins our health when taken to excess.

English Poets of the Eighteenth Century

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