by John Wilkes and Thomas Potter

“ But let her first the harder reason guess,
Why she is form'd no blinder, and no less?
Ask of her mother, Earth, why oaks are made
Taller, or stronger, than the weeds they shade?
Woman respecting, what most wrong we call. ”

“ More pow'rful these, though those are ne'er so strong.
Self-love and reason to one end aspire,
Pain our aversion, pleasure our desire;
But greedy still our object to devour,
We crop, without remorse, the fairest flow'r:
Pleasure, with us, is always understood,
Howe'er obtain'd, our best and greatest good.
Passions, like elements, though born to fight,
By female pow'r subdu'd, are alter'd quite;
These 'tis enough to temper and employ,
While what affords most pleasure, can destroy.
All spread their charms, but charm not all alike,
On different senses different objects strike ”

“ Let us (since life can little more supply,
Than, just to fight a duel .... and to die)
Expatiate, freely, upon Woman-kind;
And trace, the mighty errors of her mind;
Mark where her thousand weeds, promiscuous, shoot ”

“ A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend!
Proud of her easy conquest all along,
She still allays our passions, weak or strong.
Virtuous and vicious every man must be;
Women are neither in a small degree;
The rogue and fool, by fits, is fair and wise,
Women are always what they most despice:
'Tis but by parts Man follows good or ill ”