The lofty Hart, whom Branches best adorn;
A Leaf-less Tree, or an unverdant Mead;
And as ungraceful is a hair-less Head.
But think not, these Instructions are design’d 320
For first-rate Beauties, of the finish’d Kind:
Not to a Semele, or Leda bright,
Nor an Europa, these my Rules I write;
Nor the fair Helen do I teach, whose Charms
Stirr’d up Atrides, and all Greece, to Arms: 325
Thee to regain, well was that War begun,
And Paris well defended what he won;
What Lover, and what Husband, would not fight
In such a Cause, where both are in the right?
The Croud, I teach, some homely, and some fair; 330
But of the former Sort, the larger Share.
The handsome, least require the Help of Art,
Rich in themselves, and pleas’d with Nature’s Part.
When calm the Sea, at ease the Pilot lyes,
But all his Skill exerts when Storms arise. 335
Faults in your Person, or your Face, correct;
And few are seen that have not some Defect.
The Nymph too short, her Seat should seldom quit,
Lest, when she stands, she may be thought to sit;
And when extended on her Couch she lyes, 340
Let Length of Petticoats conceal her Size.
The Lean, of thick-wrought Stuff her Cloaths should chuse,
And fuller made, than what the Plumper use.
If Pale, let her the Crimson Juice apply;
If Swarthy, to the Pharian Varnish fly. 345
A Leg too lank, tight Garters still must wear;
Nor should an ill-shap’d Foot be ever bare.
Round Shoulders, 30bolster’d, will appear the least;
And lacing strait, confines too full a Breast.
Whose Fingers are too fat, and Nails too coarse, 350
Should always shun much Gesture in Discourse.
And you, whose Breath is touch’d, this Caution take,
Nor fasting, nor too near another speak.
Let not the Nymph with Laughter much abound,
Whose Teeth are black, uneven, or unsound. 355
You hardly think how much on this depends,
And how a Laugh, or spoils a Face, or mends.
Gape not too wide, lest you disclose your Gums,
And lose the Dimple which the Cheek becomes.
Nor let your Sides too strong Concussions shake, 360
Lest you the Softness of the Sex forsake.
In some, Distortions quite the Face disguise;
Another laughs, that you would think she cries.
In one, too hoarse a Voice we hear betray’d,
Another’s is as harsh as if she bray’d. 365
What cannot Art attain! Many, with ease,
Have learn’d to weep, both when and how they please.
Others, thro’ Affectation, lisp, and find,
In Imperfection, Charms to catch Mankind.
Neglect no Means which may promote your Ends; 370
Now learn what way of Walking recommends.
Too Masculine a Motion shocks the Sight;
But Female Grace allures with strange Delight.
One has an artful Swing and Jut behind,
Which helps her Coats to catch the swelling Wind; 375
Swell’d with the wanton Wind, they loosely flow,
And ev’ry Step and graceful Motion show.
Another, like an Umbrian’s sturdy Spouse,
Strides all the Space her Petticoat allows.
Between Extreams, in this, a Mean adjust, 380
Nor shew too nice a Gate, nor too robust.
If, snowy white your Neck, you still should wear
That, and the Shoulder of the left Arm, bare.
Such Sights ne’er fail to fire my am’rous Heart,
And make me pant to kiss the naked Part. 385
Sirens, tho’ Monsters of the stormy Main,
Can Ships, when under Sail, with Songs, detain:
Scarce could Ulysses by his Friends be bound,
When first he listen’d to the charming Sound.
Singing insinuates: Learn, all ye Maids; 390
Oft, when a Face forbids, a Voice persuades:
Whether on Theatres loud Strains we hear,
Or in Ruelles some soft Egyptian Air.
Well shall she sing, of whom I make my Choice,
And with her Lute accompany her Voice. 395
The Rocks were stirr’d, the Beasts to listen staid,
When on his Lyre melodious Orpheus play’d;
Even Cerberus and Hell that Sound obey’d.
And Stones officious were, thy Walls to raise,
O Thebes, attracted by Amphion’s Lays. 400
The Dolphin, dumb it self, thy Voice admir’d,
And was, Arion, by thy Songs inspir’d.
Of sweet Callimachus the Works rehearse,
And read Philetas and Anacreon’s Verse.
Terentian Plays may much the Mind improve; 405
But softest Sapho best instructs to Love.
Propertius, Callus, and Tibullus read,
And let Varronian Verse to these succeed.
Then mighty Maro’s Work with Care peruse;
Of all the Latian Bards the noblest Muse. 410
Even I, ’tis possible, in After-days,
May scape Oblivion, and be nam’d with these.
My labour’d Lines, some Readers may approve,
Since I’ve instructed either Sex in Love.
Whatever Book you read of this soft Art, 415
Read with a Lover’s Voice, and Lover’s Heart.
Tender Epistles too, by me are fram’d,
A Work before unthought of, and unnam’d.
Such was your sacred Will, O tuneful Nine!
Such thine, Apollo, and Lyæus, thine! 420
Still unaccomplish’d may the Maid be thought,
Who gracefully to Dance was never taught:
That active Dancing may to Love engage,
Witness the well-kept Dancers of the Stage.
Of some odd Trifles I’m asham’d to tell, 425
Tho’ it becomes the Sex to trifle well;
To raffle prettily, or slur a Dye,
Implies both Cunning and Dexterity.
Nor is’t amiss at Chess to be expert,
For Games most thoughtful, sometimes, most divert. 430
Learn ev’ry Game, you’ll find it prove of Use;
Parties begun at Play, may Love produce.
But, easier ’tis to learn how Bets to lay,
Than how to keep your Temper while you play.
Unguarded then, each Breast is open laid, 435
And while the Head’s intent, the Heart’s betray’d.
Then, base Desire of Gain, then, Rage appears,
Quarrels and Brawls arise, and anxious Fears;
Then, Clamours and Revilings reach the Sky,
“0 While losing Gamesters all the Gods defie.
Then horrid Oaths are utter’d ev’ry Cast;
They grieve, and curse, and storm, nay weep at last.
Good Jove avert such shameful Faults as these,
From ev’ry Nymph whose Heart’s inclin’d to please.
“5 Soft Recreations fit the Female-kind;
Nature, for Men, has rougher Sports design’d:
To wield the Sword, and hurl the pointed Spear;
To stop, or turn the Steed, in full Career.
Tho’ Martial Fields ill sute your tender Frames,
Nor may you swim in Tiber’s rapid Streams; 450
Yet when Sol’s burning Wheels from Leo drive,
And at the glowing Virgin’s Sign arrive,
’Tis both allow’d, and fit, you shou’d repair
To pleasant Walks, and breathe refreshing Air.
To Pompey’s Gardens, or the shady Groves 45
5
Which Cæsar honours, and which Phoebus loves:
Phœbus, who sunk the proud Ægyptian Fleet,
And made Augustus’ Victory compleat.
Or seek those Shades, where Monuments of Fame
Are rais’d, to Livia’s and Octavio’s Name; 460
Or, where Agrippa first adorn’d the Ground,
When he with Naval Victory was crown’d.
To Isis Fane, to Theatres resort;
And in the Circus see the noble Sport.
In ev’ry Publick Place, by turns, be shown; 465
In vain you’re Fair, while you remain unknown.
Should you, in singing, Thamyras transcend;
Your Voice unheard, who cou’d your Skill commend?
Had not Apelles drawn the Sea-born Queen,
Her Beauties, still, beneath the Waves had been. 470
Poets inspir’d, write only for a Name,
And think their Labours well repay’d with Fame.
In former Days, I own, the Poets were
Of Gods and Kings the most peculiar Care;
Majestick Awe was in the Name allow’d, 475
And, they, with rich Possessions were endow’d.
Ennius with Honours was by Scipio grac’d,
And, next his own, the Poet’s Statue plac’d.
But now their Ivy Crowns bear no Esteem,
And all their Learning’s thought an idle Dream. 480
Still, there’s a Pleasure, that proceeds from Praise
What could the high Renown of Homer raise,
But that he sung his Iliad’s deathless Lays?
Who could have been of Danae’s Charms assur’d,
Had she grown old, within her Tow’r immur’d? 485
This, as a Rule, let ev’ry Nymph pursue,
That ’tis her Int’rest oft to come in View.
A hungry Wolf at all the Herd will run,
In hopes, thro’ many, to make sure of one.
So, let the Fair the gazing Croud assail, 490
That over one, at least, she may prevail.
In ev’ry Place to please, be all her Thought;
Where, sometimes, least we think, the Fish is caught.
Sometimes, all Day, we hunt the tedious Foil,
Anon, the Stag himself shall seek the Toil. 495
How cou’d Andromeda once doubt Relief,
Whose Charms were heighten’d and adorn’d by Grief?
The widow’d Fair, who sees her Lord expire,
While yet she weeps, may kindle new Desire,
And Hymen’s Torch re-light with fun’ral Fire. 500
Beware of Men who are too sprucely dress’d;
And look, you fly with speed a Fop profess’d.
Such Fools, to you, and to a thousand more,
Will tell the same dull Story o’er and o’er.
This way and that, unsteadily they rove, 505
And never fix’d, are Fugitives in Love.
Such flutt’ring things all Women sure should hate,
Light, as themselves, and more Effeminate.
Believe me; all I say is for your Good;
Had Priam been believ’d, Troy still had stood. 510
Many, with base Designs, will Passion feign,
Who know no Love, but sordid Love of Gain.
But let not powder’d Heads, nor essenc’d Hair,
Your well-believing, easie Hearts ensnare.
Rich Cloaths are oft by common Sharpers worn, 515
And Diamond Rings fellonious Hands adorn.
So, may your Lover burn with fierce Desire
Your Jewels to enjoy, and best Attire.
Poor Cloe robb’d, runs crying thro’ the Streets;
And as she runs, Give me my own, repeats. 520
How often, Venus, hast thou heard such Cries,
And laugh’d amidst thy Appian Votaries?
Some so notorious are, their very Name
Must ev’ry Nymph whom they frequent, defame.
Be warn’d by Ills, which, others have destroy’d, 525
And faithless Men with constant Care avoid.
Trust not a Theseus, fair Athenian Maid,
Who has so oft th’attesting Gods betray’d.
And thou, Demophoon, Heir to Theseus’ Crimes,
Hast lost thy Credit to all future Times. 530
Promise for Promise, equally afford,
But once a Contract made, keep well your Word.
For, she for any Act of Hell is fit,
And, undismay’d, may Sacrilege commit;
With impious Hands cou’d quench the vestal Fire, 535
Poison her Husband, in her Arms, for Hire,
Who, first, to take a Lover’s Gift complies,
And then defrauds him, and his Claim denies.
But hold, my Muse, check thy unruly Horse,
And more in sight pursue th’intended Course. 540
If Love Epistles, tender Lines impart,
And Billet-doux are sent, to sound your Heart,
Let all such Letters, by a faithful Maid,
Or Confident, be secretly convey’d.
Soon from the Words you’ll judge, if read with Care, 545
When feign’d a Passion is, and when sincere.
E’er in return you write, some time require;
Delays, if not too long, encrease Desire:
Nor let the pressing Youth with ease obtain,
Nor yet refuse him with too rude Disdain. 550
Now, let his Hopes, now, let his Fears encrease,
But by degrees, let Fear to Hope give place.
Be sure avoid set Phrases, when you write,
The usual way of Speech is more Polite.
How have I seen the puzzl’d Lover vex’d, 555
To read a Letter with hard Words perplex’d!
A Stile too course, takes from a handsome Face,
And makes us wish an uglier in its place.
But since (tho’ Chastity be not your Care)
You from your Husband still wou’d hide th’Affair, 560
Write to no Stranger ‘till his Truth be try’d;
Nor in a foolish Messenger confide.
What Agonies that Woman undergoes,
Whose Hand the Traitor threatens to expose;
Who rashly trusting, dreads to be deceiv’d, 565
And lives for ever to that Dread enslav’d!
Such Treachery can never be surpass’d,
For those Discov’ries, sure as Light’ning, blast.
Might I advise, Fraud shou’d with Fraud be paid;
Let Arms repel all who with Arms invade. 570
But since your Letters may be brought to Light,
What, if in sev’ral Hands, you learn’d to write?
My Curse on him who first the Sex betray’d,
And this Advice so necessary made.
Nor let your Pocket-Book two Hands contain, 575
First, rub your Lover’s out, then, write again.
Still one Contrivance more remains behind,
Which you may use as a convenient Blind;
As if to Women writ, your Letters frame,
And let your Friend, to you subscribe a Female Name. 580
Now, greater things to tell, my Muse prepare,
And clap on all the Sail the Barque can bear.
Let no rude Passions in your Looks find place;
For Fury will deform the finest Face:
It swells the Lips, and blackens all the Veins, 585
While in the Eye a Gorgon Horror reigns.
When on her Flute divine Minerva play’d,
And in a Fountain saw the Change it made,
Swelling her Cheek: She flung it quick aside;
Nor is thy Musick so much worth, she cry’d. 590
Look in your Glass, when you with Anger glow,
And you’ll confess, you scarce your selves can know.
Nor with excessive Pride insult the Sight,
For gentle Looks, alone, to
Love invite.
Believe it as a Truth that’s daily try’d, 595
There’s nothing more detestable than Pride.
How have I seen some Airs Disgust create,
“Like things which by Antipathy we hate!
Let Looks with Looks, and Smiles with Smiles be paid,
And when your Lover bows, incline your Head. 600
So, Love preluding, plays at first with Hearts,
And after wounds with deeper piercing Darts.
Nor me a melancholy Mistress charms;
Let sad Tecmessa weep in Ajax’ Arms.
Let mourning Beauties, sullen Heroes move; 605
We chearful Men, like Gaiety in Love.
Let Hector in Andromache delight,
Who, in bewailing Troy, wastes all the Night.
Had they not both born Children (to be plain)
I ne’er cou’d think they’d with their Husbands lain. 610
I no Idea in my Mind can frame,
That either one or t’other doleful Dame,
Cou’d toy, cou’d fondle, or cou’d call their Lords
My Life, my Soul; or speak endearing Words.
Why, from Comparisons should I refrain, 615
Or, fear small things by greater to explain?
Observe what Conduct prudent Gen’rals use,
And how their sev’ral Officers they chuse;
To one, a Charge of Infantry commit,
Another, for the Horse, is thought more fit. 620
So you your sev’ral Lovers should select,
And, as you find ’em qualify’d, direct.
The wealthy Lover store of Gold should send;
The Lawyer should, in Courts, your Cause defend.
We, who write Verse, with Verse alone should bribe; 625
Most apt to Love is all the tuneful Tribe.
By us, your Fame shall thro’ the World be blaz’d;
So Nemesis, so Cynthia’s Name was rais’d.
From East to West, Lycons Praises ring;
Nor are Corinna’s silent, whom we sing. 630
No Fraud, the Poet’s sacred Breast can bear;
Mild are his Manners, and his Heart sincere.
Nor Wealth he seeks, nor feels Ambition’s Fires,
But shuns the Bar; and Books and Shades requires.
Too faithfully, alas! we know to Love, 635
With Ease we fix, but we with Pain remove;
Our softer Studies with our Souls combine,
And, both, to Tenderness our Hearts incline.
Be gentle, Virgins, to the Poet’s Pray’r,
The God that fills him, and the Muse revere; 640
Something Divine is in us, and from Heav’n
Th’inspiring Spirit can alone be giv’n.
’Tis Sin, a Price from Poets to exact;
But ’tis a Sin no Woman fears to act.
Yet hide, howe’er, your Avarice from Sight, 645
Lest you too soon your new Admirer fright.
Complete Works of William Congreve Page 11
