Hang up those dull, and envious fools That talk abroad of woman's change, We were not bred to sit on stools, Our proper virtue is to range: Take that away, you take our lives, We are no women then, but wives. Such as in valour would excel Do change, though man, and often fight, Which we in love must do as well, If ever we will love aright. The frequent varying of the deed, Is that which doth perfection breed. Nor is't inconstancy to change For what is better, or to make (By searching) what before was strange, Familiar, for the use's sake; The good, from bad, is not descried, But as 'tis often vexed, and tried. And this profession of a store In love, doth not alone help forth Our pleasure; but preserves us more From being forsaken, than doth worth, For were the worthiest woman cursed To love one man, he'd leave her first. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 9. AT THE ALTAR-RAIL by THOMAS HARDY THE ROSE AND THORN by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE ROBIN HOOD, TO A FRIEND by JOHN KEATS THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) THE ADIEU, TO A FRIEND LEAVING SUFFOLK by BERNARD BARTON |