Think not this paper comes with vain pretense¹

    To move your pity， or to mourn th' offense².

    Too well I know that hard obdurate³ heat；

    No softening⁴ mercy there will take my part，

    Nor can a woman's arguments prevail，

    When even your patron's wise example fails.

    But this last privilege I still retain；

    Th' oppressed and injured always may complain

    Too， too severely⁶ laws of honor bind⁷

    The weak submissive sex of womankind.

    If sighs have gained or force compelled our hand，

    Deceived by art， or urged by stern command，

    Whatever motive⁸ binds⁹ the fatal tie，

    The judging world expects our constancy.

    Just heaven！ （for sure in heaven does justice reign¹⁰，

    Though tricks below that sacred name profane¹¹）

    To you appealing I submit my cause，

    Nor fear a judgment¹² from impartial¹³ laws.

    All bargains but conditional¹⁴ are made；

    The purchase void， the creditor¹⁵ unpaid¹⁶；

    Defrauded¹⁷ servants are from service free；

    A wounded slave regains¹⁸ his liberty.

    For wives ill used no remedy remains¹⁹，

    To daily racks condemned²¹， and to eternal chains.

    From whence is this unjust distinction grown？

    Are we not formed with passions like your own？

    Nature with equal fire our souls endued²²，

    Our minds as haughty²³， and as warm as our blood；

    O'er the wide world your pleasures you pursue，

    The change is justified²⁴ by something new；

    But we must sigh in silence——and be true.

    Our sex's weakness you expose and blame

    （Of every prattling²⁵ fop the common theme），

    Yet from this weakness you suppose is due

    Sublimer²⁶ virtue²⁷ that your Cato knew.

    Had heaven designed us trials so severe，

    It would have formed our tempers then to bear.

    And I have borne （oh what have I not borne！）

    The pang²⁸ of jealousy²⁹， the insults of scorn.

    Wearied at length， I from your sight remove，

    And place my future hopes in secret love.

    In the gay bloom of glowing youth retired³⁰，

    I quit the woman's joy to be admired，

    With that small pension your hard heart allows，

    Renounce³¹ your fortune， and release your vows³².

    To custom （though unjust） so much is due；

    I hide my frailty³³ from the public view.

    My conscience clear， yet sensible of shame，

    My life I hazard， to preserve my fame.

    And I prefer this low inglorious state

    To vile⁵ dependence³⁴ on the thing I hate——

    But you pursue me to this last retreat.

    Dragged into light， my tender crime is shown

    And every circumstance of fondness known.

    Beneath the shelter of the law you stand，

    And urge my ruin with a cruel hand，

    While to my fault thus rigidly³⁵ severe，

    Tamely submissive to the man you fear.

    This wretched outcast， this abandoned wife，

    Has yet this joy to sweeten shameful³⁶ life：

    By your mean conduct， infamously³⁷ loose，

    You are at once my accuser and excuse.

    Let me be damned by the censorious prude

    （Stupidly dull， or spiritually lewd³⁸），

    My hapless case will surely pity find

    From every just and reasonable mind.

    When to the final sentence I submit，

    The lips condemn²⁰ me， but their souls acquit³⁹.

    No more my husband， to your pleasures go，

    The sweets of your recovered freedom know.

    Go： court the brittle⁴⁰ friendship of the great，

    Smile at his board， or at his levee wait；

    And when dismissed， to madam's toilet fly，

    More than her chambermaids， or glasses， lie，

    Tell her how young she looks， how heavenly fair，

    Admire the lilies and the roses there.

    Your high ambition may be gratified，

    Some cousin of her own be made your bride，

    And you the father of a glorious race

    Endowed with Ch——l's strength and Low——r's face.