Artemisa to Cloe. A letter from a lady in the tovvn to a lady in the country; concerning the loves of the tovvn: / by a person of quality.

Artemisa to Cloe. CLOE in VERSE by your Command I Write , Shortly you 'll bid me ride a-stride and Fight ; Such Talents better with our SEX agree , Than lofty flights of dangerous Poetry . Amongst the Men , I mean the Men of Wit , ( At least they pass'd for such before they writ : ) How many bold Adventurers for the Baies , Proudly designing large Returns of Praise . Who durst that Stormy Path-less World Explore , Were soon toss'd back and wrackt on the dull Shore , Broke of that little Stock they had before ? How would a Womans tottering Bark be toss'd , Where stoutest Ships , the Men of War are lost . When I reflect on this , I straight grow wise , And my own self I gravely thus advise : Dear Artemisa Poetry's a Snare , Bedlam has many Mansions , have a Care ; Your Muse directs you , makes your Reader sad ; You fancy y' are inspir'd , he thinks you mad . Consider too , 't will be discreetly done , To make your self the Fiddle of the Town : To find th' ill-humour'd Pleasure at their need , Scorn'd if you fail , and Curss'd if you succeed . Yet like an arrant Woman , as I am , No sooner well convinc'd , Writing's a shame ; That Whore is scarce a more reproachful Name Than Poetess ! — As Men that Marry , or as Maids that Woo , Cause 't is the very worst thing they can do : Pleas'd with the Contradiction and the Sin ; Methinks I stand on Thorns till I begin . You expect to hear at least , what Loves have past In this lewd Town , since you and I meet last ; What Change hath hapned of Intrigues , and whether The old Ones last ; or who and who 's together : But how , my Dearest Cloe , shall I set My Pen to write , what I would fain forget ? Or name that lost thing LOVE , without a Tear , Since so Debauch'd by ill-bred Customs here . LOVE ! the most Generous Passion of the Mind , The softest Refuge Innocence can find : The safe Director of unguided Youth , Fraught with kind Wishes , and secur'd by Truth . That Cordial Drop Heaven in our Cup has thrown , To make the Nauceous Draught of Life go down : On which one onely Blessing , God might Raise In Lands of Atheists Subsidies of Praise . For none did e're so dull and stupid prove , But felt a God , and bless'd his Power in Love . This onely Joy , for which poor we were made Is grown like Play to be an arrant Trade : The Rooks creep in ; and it has got of late As many little Cheats and Tricks as that . But what yet more a Womans Heart would vex , 'T is chiefly carried on by our own Sex : Our silly Sex , who born like Monarchs , Free , Turn Gipsies for a meaner Liberty , And hate Restraint , tho' but from Infamy . They call what ever is not Common , Nice , And deaf to Natures Rules and Loves Advice , Forsake the Pleasures , to pursue the Vice . To an exact Perfection they have wrought , The Action Love , the Passion is forgot : 'T is below Wit they 'll tell you to Admire , And ev'n without approving , they Desire : Their private wish obey the publick Voice , 'Twixt good and bad Whimsey decides , not Choice Fashions grow up so fast , at Forms they strike , They know what they would have , not what they like . B — is a Beauty , if some few agree To call him so , the rest to that Degree Affected are , that with their Ears they see . Where I was Visiting the other Night , Comes a Fair Lady with her humble Knight : Who had prevail'd on her by her own Skill , At his Request , tho' much against his Will. To come to London — As the Coach Stopp'd , we heard her Voice more lou● Than a Great-belly'd Woman 's in a Croud : Telling her Knight that her Affairs require , He for some Hours Obsequiously retire . I think she was asham'd to have him seen , ( Hard Fate of Husbands ) the Gallant had been , Though a diseas'd hard-favour'd Fool brought in . Dispatch , says She , your Business you pretend , That beastly Visit to the drunken Friend : A Bottle ever makes you look so fine , Methinks I long to smell you stink of Wine : Your Country drinking Breath's enough to kill Sowr Ale corrected with a Lemmon-Pill ; Prithee farewell , we 'll meet agen a-non , The necessary Thing bows , and is gon : She flies up Stairs , and all the hast does show , That fifty Antick Postures will allow : And then bursts out , Dear Madam , am not I The alter'dst Creature breathing , let me die ; I find my self ridiculously grown Embarrassè with being out of Town . Rude and untaught , like any Indian Queen , My Country-nakedness is strangely seen . How is Love govern'd ? Love that rules the State ; And pray who are the Men most worn of late ? When I was Married , Fools were Al-a-mode , The Men of Wit were then held Incommode : Slow of Belief , and fickle in Desire , Who e're they 'll be perswaded , must enquire ; As if they came to spy , not to admire . With searching Wisdom , fatal to their Ease , They 'll still find out , why what may , should not please : Nay , take themselves for injur'd , if we dare Make them think better of us than we are : And if we hide our Frailties from their Sights , Call us deceitful Jilts , and Hypocrites . They little guess who at our Arts are griev'd , The perfect Joy of being well deceiv'd , Inquisitive as jealous Cuckolds grow , Rather than not be knowing , they will know What being known creates their certain Woe . Women should these of all Mankind avoid , For Wonder by clear Knowledge is destroy'd . Woman who is an arrant Bird of Night , Bold in the Dusk before a Fool 's dull Sight , Should fly , when Reason brings the Glaring Light . But the kind easie Fool , apt to Admire Himself , trusts us ; his Follies all conspire To flatter his , and favour our Desire . Vain of his proper Merit , he with ease Believes we love him best , who best can please : On him our common gross dull Flatteries pass , Ever most Joyful when most made an Ass : Heavy to apprehend ; tho' all Mankind Perceive us false , the Fopp concern'd is blind ; Who dot●ng on himself — Thinks every one that sees him of his Mind . These are true Womens-men : — Here forc'd to cease For want of Breath , not Will , to hold her peace : She to the Window runs , where she had spy'd , Her much esteem'd dear Friend , the Monkey ty'd : With forty Smiles , as many Antick Bows , As if 't had been the Lady of the House , The d●rty chattering Monster she imbrac'd , And made it this fine tender Speech at last : " Kiss me thou Curious Miniture of Man , " How odd thou art , how pretty , how Japan ! " O! I could live and die with thee . — Then on For half an Hour in Complement she run . I took this time to think what Nature meant , When this mixt thing into the World she sent ; So very wise , yet so impertinent : One who knew every thing , who 't was thought fit Should be a Fool through Choice , not want of Wit : Whose Foppery , without the help of Sence , Could ne'r have rise to such an Excellence . Nature's as lame in making a true Fop , As a Philosopher the very top And Dignity of Folly we attain ; By curious search and labour of the Brain ; By Observation , Counsel , and deep Thought : God never made a Coxcomb worth a Groat , We owe that Name to Industry and Arts , An Eminent Fool must be a Fool of Parts : And such an one was she , who had turn'd o're As many Books as Men , lov'd much , read more ; Had a discerning Wit ; to her was known Every one's Fault and Merit , but her own : All the good Qualities that ever bless't A Woman so distinguisht from the rest , Except Discretion onely , she possest . And now Monsieur dear Pugg , she cries adieu , And the Discourse broke off , does thus renew : " You Smile too see me , whom the World perchance Mistakes to have some Wit ; so far advance The Interest of Fools , that I approve Their Merit more than Men's of Wit , in love . But in our Sex too many Proofs there are , Of such whom Wits undo , and Fools repair . This in my time was so receiv'd a Rule , Hardly a Wench in Town but had her Fool ; The meanest common Slut , who long was grown The Jest and Scorn of every Pit Buffoon , Had yet left Charms enough to have subdu'd Some Fopp or other fond to be thought lewd . Foster could make an Irish Lord a Nokes , And Betty Morris had her City Cokes . A Woman 's nere so ruin'd , but she can Be still reveng'd on her Undoer Man : How lost so e're , she 'll find some Lover more A lewd abandon'd Fool , then she 's a Whore . That wretched Thing Corinna , who had run Through all the several Wayes of being undone . Cozen'd at first by Love , and living then By turning the too dear bought Trick on Men : Gay were the Hours , and Wing'd with Joy they flew , When first the Town her early Beauty knew : Courted , admir'd , and lov'd , with Presents fed , Youth in her Looks , and Pleasure in her Bed ; Till Fate , or her ill Angel thought it fit To make her dote upon a Man of Wit ; Who found 't was dull to love above a Day , Made his ill-natur'd Jest , and went away . Now scorn'd by all , forsaken and oppress 't , She 's a Memento mori to the Rest : Diseas'd , decay'd , to take up Half a Crown . Must Mortgage her long Scarff , and Manto Gown . Poor Creature ! who unheard of , as a Flie In some dark Hole must all the Winter lie : And Want , and Dirt endure a whole half Year , That for one Month She Tawdry may appear . In Easter Term She gets her a new Gown , When my young Masters Worship comes to Town : From Pedagog and Mother just set free , The Heir and Hopes of a great Family ; Who with strong Ale and Beef the Country Rules , And ever since the Conquest have been Fools : And now with careful Prospect to maintain This Character , lest crossing of the Strain Should mend the Booby-breed , his Friends provide A Cousin of his own for his fair Bride . And thus set out — With an Estate , no Wit , and a young Wife , The solid Comforts of a Coxcombs life : Dung-hill and Pease forsook , he comes to Town , Turns Spark , learns to be lewd , and is undone . Nothing sutes worse with Vice , than want of Sence , Fools are still wicked at their own Expence . This o'r grown School-Boy lost Corinna wins , And at first dash , to make an Ass begins : " Pretends to like a Man who has not known " The Vanities nor Vices of the Town . " Fresh in his Youth , and faithful in his Love , " Eager of Joys , which he does seldom prove : " Healthful and Strong , he does no Pains indure , " But what the Fair One he adores can cure . " Grateful for Favours , does the Sex esteem , " And Libels none for being kind to him : " Then of the Lewdness of the Town complains , " Rails at the Wits and Atheists , and maintains " 'T is better than good Sence , than Power , than Wealth , " To have alone untainted Youth , and Health . The unbred Puppey , who had never seen A Creature look so Gay , or talk so Fine , Believes , then falls in Love , and then in Debt , Mortgages all , even to the Ancient Seat : To buy his Mistress a new House for Life , To give her Plate and Jewels , robs his Wife ; And when to th' height of Fondness he is grown , 'T is time to poyson him , and all 's Her own . Thus meeting in her Common Arms his Fate , He leaves her Bastard-Heir to his Estate : And as the Race of such an Owl deserves , His own dull lawful Progeny he starves . Nature who never made a thing in vain , But do's each Insect for some end ordain ; Wisely contriv'd kind-keeping Fools no doubt , To patch up Vices , Men of Wit wear out . Thus she ran on two Hours , some Grains of Sence , Mixt with whole Vollies of Impertinence . But now 't is time I should some pitty show To Cloe , since I cannot choose but know Readers must Reap the Dulness Writers Sow . By the next Post such Stories I will tell , As joyn'd with these , shall to a Volume swell : As True as Heaven , more Infamous than Hell ; But now you 're tyr'd , and so am I. Farewell .