Page:Artemisa to Cloe - Wilmot (1679).djvu/3

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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.

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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, 'twill 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.

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Yet like an arrant Woman, as I am,No sooner well convinc'd, Writing's a shame;That Whore is scarce a more reproachful NameThan Poetess!———As Men that Marry, or as Maids that Woo,Cause 'tis 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 pastIn this lewd Town, since you and I meet last;What Change hath hapned of Intrigues, and whetherThe old Ones last; or who and who's together:

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