Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/142

4 And beg the Criticks not to blame (Since from a Female Hand it came) Defects in Judgment, or in Wit ; They'd but reply Then has she Writ! Our Vanity we more betray, In asking what the World will say, Than if, in trivial Things like these, We wait on the Event with ease; Nor make long Prefaces, to show What Men are not concern'd to know: For still untouch'd how we succeed, 'Tis for themselves, not us, they Read; Whilst that proceeding to requite, We own (who in the Muse delight) 'Tis for our Selves, not them, we Write. Betray'd by Solitude to try Amusements, which the Prosp'rous fly; And only to the Press repair, To fix our scatter'd Papers there ; Tho' whilst our Labours are preserv'd, The Printers may, indeed, be starv'd. INTRODUCTION Did I, my lines intend for publick view, How many censures, wou'd their faults persue, Some wou'd, because such words they do affect, Cry they're insipid, empty, uncorrect. And many, have attain' d, dull and untaught The name of Witt, only by finding fault. True judges, might condemn their want of witt, And all might say, they're by a Woman writt. Alas! a woman that attempts the pen, Such an intruder on the rights of men,