Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/77



APHNE knows, with equal ease, How to vex and how to please; But the folly of her sex Makes her sole delight to vex. Never woman more devis'd Surer ways to be despis'd: Paradoxes weakly wielding, Always conquer'd, never yielding. To dispute, her chief delight, With not one opinion right: Thick her arguments she lays on, And with cavils combats reason; Answers in decisive way, Never hears what you can say: Still her odd perverseness shows Chiefly where she nothing knows; And, where she is most familiar, Always peevisher and sillier: All her spirits in a flame When she knows she's most to blame. Send me hence ten thousand miles, From a face that always smiles: None could ever act that part, But a Fury in her heart. Ye who hate such inconsistence, To be easy, keep your distance: Or in folly still befriend her, But have no concern to mend her. Rh