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    Ch. 9: Cadenus and Vanessa

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    Written Anno 1713.

    The shepherds and the nymphs were seen
    Pleading before the Cyprian Queen.
    The counsel for the fair began
    Accusing the false creature, man.

    The brief with weighty crimes was charged,
    On which the pleader much enlarged:
    That Cupid now has lost his art,
    Or blunts the point of every dart;
    His altar now no longer smokes;
    His mother's aid no youth invokes--
    This tempts free-thinkers to refine,
    And bring in doubt their powers divine,
    Now love is dwindled to intrigue,
    And marriage grown a money-league.
    Which crimes aforesaid (with her leave)
    Were (as he humbly did conceive)
    Against our Sovereign Lady's peace,
    Against the statutes in that case,
    Against her dignity and crown:
    Then prayed an answer and sat down.

    The nymphs with scorn beheld their foes:
    When the defendant's counsel rose,
    And, what no lawyer ever lacked,
    With impudence owned all the fact.
    But, what the gentlest heart would vex,
    Laid all the fault on t'other sex.
    That modern love is no such thing
    As what those ancient poets sing;
    A fire celestial, chaste, refined,
    Conceived and kindled in the mind,
    Which having found an equal flame,
    Unites, and both become the same,
    In different breasts together burn,
    Together both to ashes turn.
    But women now feel no such fire,
    And only know the gross desire;
    Their passions move in lower spheres,
    Where'er caprice or folly steers.
    A dog, a parrot, or an ape,
    Or some worse brute in human shape
    Engross the fancies of the fair,
    The few soft moments they can spare
    From visits to receive and pay,
    From scandal, politics, and play,
    From fans, and flounces, and brocades,
    From equipage and park-parades,
    From all the thousand female toys,
    From every trifle that employs
    The out or inside of their heads
    Between their toilets and their beds.

    In a dull stream, which, moving slow,
    You hardly see the current flow,
    If a small breeze obstructs the course,
    It whirls about for want of force,
    And in its narrow circle gathers
    Nothing but chaff, and straws, and feathers:
    The current of a female mind
    Stops thus, and turns with every wind;
    Thus whirling round, together draws

    Fools, fops, and rakes, for chaff and straws.
    Hence we conclude, no women's hearts
    Are won by virtue, wit, and parts;
    Nor are the men of sense to blame
    For breasts incapable of flame:
    The fault must on the nymphs be placed,
    Grown so corrupted in their taste.

    The pleader having spoke his best,
    Had witness ready to attest,
    Who fairly could on oath depose,
    When questions on the fact arose,
    That every article was true;
    Nor further those deponents
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