The Reasons that Induced Dr. S. to write a Poem called "The Lady's Dressing Room"
by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

The Doctor in a clean starched band,
His golden snuff box in his hand,
With care his diamond ring displays
And artful shows its various rays,
While grade he stalks down ____ street
His dearest Betty ____ to meet.
   Long had he waited for this hour,
Nor gained admittance to the bower,
Had joked and punned, and swore and writ,
Tried all his gallantry and wit,
Had told her oft what part he bore
In Oxford's schemes in days of yore,
But bawdy, politics, nor satire
Could move this dull hard hearted creature.
Jenny her maid could taste a rhyme
And, grieved to see him lose his time,
Had kindly whispered in his ear,
"For twice two pound you enter here;
My lady vows without that sum
It is in vain you write or come."
   The destined offering now he brought,
And in a paradise of thought,
With a low bow approached the dame,
Who smiling heard him preach his flame.
His gold she takes (such proofs as these
Convince most unbelieving shes)
And in her trunk rose up to lock it
(Too wise to trust it in her pocket)
And then, returend with blushing grace,
Expects the doctor's warm embrace.
   But now this is the proper place
Where morals stare me in the face,
And for the sake of fine expression
I'm forced to make a small digression.
Alas for wretched humankind,
With learning mad, with wisdom blind!
The ox thinks he's for saddle fit
(As long ago friend Horace writ)
And men their talents still mistaking,
The stutterer fancies his is speaking.
With admiration oft we see
Hard features heightened by toupée,
The beau affects the politician,
Wit is the citizen's ambition,
Poor Pope philosophy displays on
With so much rhyme and little reason,
And though he argues ne'er so long
That all is right, his head is wrong.
   None strive to know their proper merit
But strain for wisdom, beauty, spirit,
And lose the praise that is their due
While they've th'impossible in view.
So have I seen the injudicious heir
To add one window the whole house impair.
   Instinct the hound does better teach,
Who never undertook to preach;
The frighted hare from dogs does run
But not attempts to bear a gun.
Here many noble thoughts occur
But I prolixity abhor,
And will pursue th'instructive tale
To show the wise in some things fail.
   The reverend lover with surprise
Peeps in her bubbies, and her eyes,
And kisses both, and tries---and tries.
The evening in this hellish play,
Beside his guineas thrown away,
Provoked the priest to that degree
He swore, "The fault is not in me.
Your damned close stool so near my nose,
Your dirty smock, and stinking toes
Would make a Hercules as tame
As any beau that you can name."
   The nymph grown furious roared, "By God
The blame lies all in sixty odd,"
And scornful pointing to the door
Cried, "Fumbler, see my face no more."
"With all my heart I'll go away,
But nothing done, I'll nothing pay.
Give back the money." "How," cried she,
"Would you palm such a cheat on me!
For poor four pound to roar and bellow--
Why sure you want some new Prunella?"
"I'll be revenged, you saucy quean"
(Replies the disappointed Dean)
"I'll so describe your dressing room
The very Irish shall not come."
She answered short, "I'm glad you'll write.
You'll furnish paper when I shite."