The Progress of Wit and Other

DIVERTING in extreme there is a play, Which oft resumes its fascinating sway; Delights the sex, or ugly, fair, or sour; By night or day:—’tis sweet at any hour.

The frolick, ev’ry where is known to fame; Conjecture if you can, and tells its name.

THIS play’s chief charm to husbands is unknown; ‘Tis with the lover it excels alone; No lookers-on, as umpires, are required; No quarrels rise, though each appears inspired; All seem delighted with the pleasing game:— Conjecture if you can, and tell its name.

BE this as ‘twill, and called whate’er it may; No longer trifling with it I shall stay, But now disclose a method to transmit (As oft we find) to ninnies sense and wit.

Till Alice got instruction in this school, She was regarded as a silly fool, Her exercise appeared to spin and sew:— Not hers indeed, the hands alone would go; For sense or wit had in it no concern; Whate’er the foolish girl had got to learn, No part therein could ever take the mind; Her doll, for thought, was just as well designed.

The mother would, a hundred times a day, Abuse the stupid maid, and to her say Go wretched lump and try some wit to gain.

THE girl, quite overcome with shame and pain; Her neighbours asked to point her out the spot, Where useful wit by purchase might be got.

The simple question laughter raised around; At length they told her, that it might be found With father Bonadventure, who’d a stock, Which he at times disposed of to his flock.

AWAY in haste she to the cloister went, To see the friar she was quite intent, Though trembling lest she might disturb his ease; And one of his high character displease.