What reason can there be assign'd,
Why the Fair Sex mayn't speak their mind?
Man pleads his cause in open light;
But female thoughts are hid in night.
His flames before the sun aspire;
Theirs cover'd as a Curfu fire.
His by the tongue can find relief;
Theirs hid in secret, like a thief.
Can we of errors them impeach,
Who learn a lesson that we teach?

How can a race-horse win the day,
Stuff'd to the throat with corn and hay?
So Poets verses must be dull,
If written when his belly's full.
Then sleepy works would be but few
That meet the eye of me or you.
Hence it is necessary quite
That hungry bards alone should write.

Three sisters, beautiful and neat,
Who stood the first in Castle Street,
Follow'd gay fashions to the height,
But rather were in pocket light.
They long'd for husbands--none apply'd:
How then could each become a bride?
They walk'd the street; they spread the sail;
But by no art could catch the gale.
They ogled, smil'd, but durst not ask;
To speak was a forbidden task.

William sold books, some books he hir'd;
His lounging shop held folks when tir'd.
To read the titles they delight in;
A bachelor was most inviting.

The younger pair, as in a tether,
Came often, and as oft together;
As if the ladies had in view
That William stood in need of two.
They enter'd morning, noon, and eve;
But ne'er express'd a wish to leave;
Open'd and shut books without heed,
As if they were not made to read;
Began a conversation pat,
Which just amounted to all that;
Moulded their words, some right some wrong;
Before they sent them from the tongue;
Caps, handkerchiefs, adjusted right,
With some few matters out of sight.
If red Morocco grac'd the foot,
The shoe was rather forward put;
But if black leather, black betide it!
The petticoat knew how to hide it.

The eldest beauty left behind,
Thought there was something in the wind;
'Her sister's absent!'--Now suspecting
A husband might be worth accepting,
Survey'd the rising scene with joy--
'Her luck she'd in the lott'ry try.'
As in her glass she took a view
'Surely the prize can win from two.'
For where's the lass, since first created,
Her beauty ever under-rated?
Now view three goddesses again,
Striving the apple to obtain.

But William's heart, like theirs, might move,
Part to'ards int'rest, part to'ards love.
Besides, before a bargain's made,
Some trifles should be nicely weigh'd;
As--will that match delightful prove
When there's no money, and no love?
He who spends two years gets in one,
In the Gazette has splendid shone.
Neither do girls make wives quite meet
Who fellows pick up in the street;
Nor that œconomy be lasting
Who've fifteen hundred pounds been wasting.
Who'd take a wife without demur,
Whose mother bullies hen-peck'd Sir?

These reasons weigh'd on William's part;
He kept the steel upon his heart;
Yet smil'd and play'd, drank tea, and talk'd,
Just as before; and jok'd and walk'd.

The eldest, weary of delay,
Resolv'd to open first the way;
Then, part in earnest, part in sport--
'Answer three questions-they're but short.'

'I'll answer them with free good-will,
Should they not prove above my skill.'

'Then do--for all the three are small--
You'll in a moment answer all.'

'Madam, my knowledge you shall share;
'I'm happy to oblige the fair.'

'Do you love me?'--The swain, 'tis said,
Utter'd a 'Yes' but three parts made.
Law, then, the female tongue should tie;
For if they ask, who can deny?

'Will you have me?' was the next cry.
Dumb stood the swain, and rather shy.

Another 'Yes' poor William said,
Which was at least three parts un-made.

Not quite two seconds more she tarried--
'Then tell me-'When shall we be married?'

William was stupid as a post;
You'd really think he saw a ghost;
And look'd as caught in vile Crim. Con.;
The vengeful husband looking on.
His passions were in woeful case;
A Court of Law flash'd in his face.
A better station he'd have found,
Had the grim stocks his ancles bound.

He forc'd a laugh as if he'd burst--
'Madam, my turn to ask comes first.'