The Woman's Medley.
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O Woman is a fine thing so wondrous neat and pretty,
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But now they are degenerate, alas, the more's the pitty,
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Let's trace them from their Infancy till into Age they're grown,
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From two Years Old we shall begin and each to sixty one;
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We'll give you plain their Characters, and how they spend their li[ves]
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In what capacity they Act as Widows, Maids and Wives.
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O Woman is a fine thing, etc.
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As soon as they can go alone full fast their Tongues do run,
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And if you do observe them they hold as they begun,
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At five Years will be trickt up fine they've such a smatch of pride,
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Lac'd Shoes, fine Petticoats, Comodes, and twenty things beside.
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So very pert and apt there grown as soon as turn'd of Ten,
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Their thoughts continually do run on nothing else but Men,
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For Lasses are so forward grown as plainly now appears,
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That they think of a Husband, and ever they think of their Prayers.
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And if they get a sweetheart as soon as can be,
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You'll find they will not be content unless they have two or three;
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They all are very fond of choice and prone unto this evil,
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To take the Man that has most pelf, the rest may go to the Devil.
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Her Tea-table must be set out with China of the best,
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With tatling Gossips like herself, and then she's truly blest;
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And oftentimes three Hours long they sit at the Tea-table,
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To scandalize their Neighbours as long as they are able.
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Some Women tread in virtues Paths as if they tread on Thorns,
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Or else to many Men as would never wear the Horns;
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For 'tis the fate of many Men, and not of one alone,
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That Children their oblig'd to keep, which are none of their own.
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If the Husband for to take a Glass unto the Tavern goes,
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His Wife is quickly after him, and doth her mind disclose,
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She tells him that is a shame, 'tis time away he come,
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And rattles Thunder in his Ears, as he gets home.
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When she's in Bed she tells him, and say twill quite undo him,
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And if he'd play with you know what, she turn her Buttocks to him;
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No Man can manage Woman though he hath ever such Skill,
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And he that would a Woman please must let her have her Will.
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And if the Husband chance to die, and she's a Widow left,
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O then she grieves confoundedly that of him she's bereft;
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She hides her Face in Mourning, and blinds her Eyes with Tears,
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And hopes she shall another get, O there lies all her cares.
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If her Husband cross her in what she hath done or said,
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[T]hen presently she doth fall Sick, and needs must keep her Bed;
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[T]he Doctor comes, then with his Skill to Cure her when she droops,
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[A]nd puts the Man to vast expence in Bolus's and Slops.
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A[l]tho' her charms thro' Age decline, exempt from every grace,
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She[']ll Paint and Patch, and Patch and Paint to hide her wrinkle Face,
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But Women all these failings have, and many more beside,
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But all these faults are owing to nothing but Pride.
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Our Grandames they old we read were virtuous, Wise and Sage,
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And many Woman are so too, within this present Age;
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For such they well may be beloved, 'twill be by Age confest,
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Then let us as we ought to do, pray Heaven to mend the rest.
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