The POET's DREAM:
CONTAINING
His amazing and frightful Vision of Pride,
WHEREIN
Lucifer seem'd to be Deck'd with a higher Topping then was e-
ver yet Worn, not doubting but Proud Women would endeavour to imitate
him. To the Tune of, O Folly, etc.
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AS I of late was in a Dream,
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it frighted me to the heart,
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My thought old Lucifer did seem
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to act a proud Woman's part:
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He enter'd my Chamber with three or four more,
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Who brought in black Patches & Toppings great store,
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To Deck their old Devil whom they did adore.
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Now Women, insolent Women,
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What do you think of Pride?
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He never hid his Cloven-Foot,
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but sat in a chair of State,
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While on his Head a Dress they put,
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and every one did wait;
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Their Box of Perfume then like Sulpher did swell;
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I wisht them a thousand times over in Hell;
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But they was as busie as Bridget and Nell:
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Now Women, insolent Women,
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What do you think of Pride?
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The Devil call'd for his Commode,
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drest up with rich gaudy Lace;
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When it was on, methoughts it show'd
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to be of a London-Grace;
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He lookt in the Glass, when the hight he did see,
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I'll have it full seven times higher, said he,
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That Ladies of London may imitate me.
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Now Women, delicate Women,
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What do you think of Pride?
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Then like the May-pole in the Strand,
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or Pudding-lane Monument,
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They brought a Topping out of hand,
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which gave the old Spark content:
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Since such a high Tower for him they did make,
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They danc'd, while I thought my whole lodging did shake,
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I being afrighted, I strait did awake:
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Now Women, insolent Women,
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What do you think of Pride?
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I on my Pillow sighing lay,
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with sorrow and grief of Mind,
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And to myself did often say,
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Young Women are wilful Blind;
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Thought I, if the truth of this Dream I should write,
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And tell them that Pride is the Devil's delight,
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They'd follow the Mode if it were but for spight:
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Now Women, insolent Women,
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Why will you be so Proud?
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Of this great Sin you have been told,
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a million of times at least,
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Besides, strange Monsters you behold
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in many a brutish Beast;
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Tho' Heaven and Earth does your Folly degrade,
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Yet in the defiance of what can be said,
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Like Bruits and strange Anticks you will be array'd:
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Ah! Women, insolent Women,
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How can you be so Proud?
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The very Cook and Scullion-maid,
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or Country home-bred Girl,
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When they in London are arraid,
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drest up in a fine Fallal;
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I mean a rich Topping, high, proper and tall,
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Altho' her mean Station be never so small,
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She is Madam, forsooth, with the best of them all:
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O Lasses, insolent Lasses,
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How can you be so Proud?
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Those topping Towers they are grown
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most monsterous high of late;
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Both Nancy, Bridget, Doll, and Jone,
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with Margery, Prue, and Kate,
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Tho' each of them han't a good Smock to their back,
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Before a high Tower and Topping they'll lack,
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They'll leave a good Service, forsooth, and turn Crack:
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Oh! Lasses, delicate Lasses,
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Well may you blush for shame.
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Let but a Lass come from the North,
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and tarry a while in Town,
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She will dispise her Ruset-cloath,
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and covet a Silken Gown;
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Likewise ahigh Topping she'll dearly adore;
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Tho' she had not seen it past two Months before;
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For these are as proud as the Devil all o'er;
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Now Lasses, delicate Lasses,
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Why will you be so Proud?
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We have not seen brave happy Days,
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in Country, Court, or Town;
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Since Women did their Topping raise,
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like Monuments on each Crown:
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Young Women, Why should you so Obstinate stand?
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Let a Reformation be made out of hand;
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Down, down, with your Toppings the Pride of the Land,
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Young Women, excellent Women,
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Then will you be indeed.
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