['T]is the talk, and not the intrigue, that's the crime. - George Granville

But tho' we fetch from Italy and France
Our fopperies of tune, and mode of dance,
Our sturdy Britons scorn to borrow sense.

Nature indulgent, provident, and kind,
In all things that excell some use design'd;
The radiant sun […]
Sends from above ten thousand blessings down,
Nor is he set so high for show alone;
His beams, reviving with auspicious fire,
Freely we all enjoy what all admire.
The moon and stars, those faithful guides of night,
Are plac'd to help, not entertain, the sight.
Plants, fruits, and flow'rs, the fertile fields produce,
Not for vain ornament, but wholesome use;
Health they restore, and nourishment they give,
We see with pleasure, but we taste to live.

Mankind, from Adam, have been women's fools;
Women, from Eve, have been the devil's tools:
Heaven might have spar'd one torment when we fell;
Not left us woman, or not threatened hell.