Judge not my passion by my want of skill

How are we fal’n, fal’n by mistaken rules, And Education’s more than Nature’s fools.

They tell us we mistake our sex and way; Good breeding, fassion, dancing, dressing, play Are the accomplishments we shou’d desire; To write, or read, or think, or to enquire Wou’d cloud our beauty and exaust our time, And interrupt the …

Alas! a woman that attempts the pen, Such an intruder on the rights of men, Such a presumptuous Creature, is esteem’d, The fault, can by no vertue be redeem’d.

Did I my lines intend for publick view, How many censures wou’d their faults persue; ... True judges might condemn their want of witt, And all might say, they’re by a Woman writt.

This to the crown and blessing of my life, The much lov’d husband of a happy wife; To him whose constant passion found the art To win a stubborn and ungratefull heart, And to the world by tend’rest proof discovers, They err, who say that …

The King, the Priest, the Prophet, all are Thine, Nor wou’d ev’n God (in Flesh) thy Stroke decline.