| |
| WERE you but half so wise as y’ are severe, | |
| Our youthful Poet shou’d not need to fear; | |
| To his green years your Censures you wou’d suit, | |
| Not blast the Blossom, but expect the Fruit. | |
| The Sex that best does pleasure understand | 5 |
| Will alwayes chuse to err on t’ other hand. | |
| They check not him that’s Aukward in delight, | |
| But clap the young Rogues Cheek, and set him right. | |
| Thus heartn’d well, and flesh’t upon his Prey, | |
| The youth may prove a man another day. | 10 |
| For your own sakes, instruct him when he’s out, | |
| You’ll find him mend his work at every bout. | |
| When some young lusty Thief is passing by, | |
| How many of your tender Kind will cry, | |
| A proper Fellow! pity he should dye! | 15 |
| He might be sav’d, and thank us for our pains, | |
| There’s such a stock of Love within his Veins. | |
| These Arguments the Women may persuade, | |
| But move not you, the Brothers of the Trade, | |
| Who, scattering your Infection through the Pit, | 20 |
| With aking Hearts and empty Purses sit, | |
| To take your dear five Shillings worth of Wit. | |
| The Praise you give him in your kindest mood | |
| Comes dribling from you, just like drops of Blood; | |
| And then you clap so civilly, for fear | 25 |
| The loudness might offend your Neighbours ear, | |
| That we suspect your Gloves are lin’d within, | |
| For silence sake, and Cotten’d next the skin. | |
| From these Usurpers we appeal to you, | |
| The only knowing, only judging few; | 30 |
| You, who in private have this Play allow’d, | |
| Ought to maintain your Suffrage to the Crowd. | |
| The Captive, once submitted to your Bands, | |
| You should protect from Death by Vulgar hands. | |
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