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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431448" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Epistle from Mrs. Yonge to Her Husband</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Think not this paper comes with vain pretense<br>To move your pity, or to mourn th'offense.<br>Too well I know that hard obdurate heart;<br>No softening mercy there will take my part,<br>Nor can a woman's arguments prevail,<br>When even your patron's wise example fails.<br>But this last privilege I still retain;<br>Th'oppressed and injured always may complain.<br>Too, too severely laws of honor bind<br>The weak submissive sex of womankind. <br>If sighs have gained or force compelled our hand,<br>Deceived by art, or urged by stern command,<br>Whatever motive binds the fatal tie,<br>The judging world expects our constancy.<br>Just heaven! (for sure in heaven does justice reign,<br>Though tricks below that sacred name profane)<br>To you appealing I submit my cause,<br>Nor fear a judgment from impartial laws.<br>All bargains but conditional are made;<br>The purchase void, the creditor unpaid; <br>Defrauded servants are from service free;<br>A wounded slave regains his liberty.<br>For wives ill used no remedy remains,<br>To daily racks condemned, and to eternal chains.<br>From whence is this unjust distinction grown?<br>Are we not formed with passions like your own?<br>Nature with equal fire our souls endued,<br>Our minds as haughty, and as warm our blood;<br>O'er the wide world your pleasures you pursue,<br>The change is justified by something new; <br>But we must sigh in silence -- and be true.<br>Our sex's weakness you expose and blame<br>(Of every prattling fop the common theme).<br>Yet from this weakness you suppose is due<br>Sublimer virtue than your Cato knew.<br>Had heaven designed us trials so severe,<br>It would have formed our tempers then to bear.<br>And I have borne (oh what have I not borne!)<br>The pang of jealousy, the insults of scorn.<br>Wearied at length, I from your sight remove, <br>And place my future hopes in secret love.<br>In the gay bloom of glowing youth retired, <br>I quit the woman's joy to be admired,<br>With that small pension your hard heart allows,<br>Renounce your fortune, and release your vows.<br>To custom (though unjust) so much is due;<br>I hide my frailty from the public view.<br>My conscience clear, yet sensible of shame,<br>My life I hazard, to preserve my fame.<br>And I prefer this low inglorious state <br>To vile dependence on the thing I hate --<br>But you pursue me to this last retreat.<br>Dragged into light, my tender crime is shown<br>And every circumstance of fondness known.<br>Beneath the shelter of the law you stand,<br>And urge my ruin with a cruel hand,<br>While to my fault thus rigidly severe,<br>Tamely submissive to the man you fear.<br>This wretched outcast, this abandoned wife,<br>Has yet this joy to sweeten shameful life: <br>By your mean conduct, infamously loose,<br>You are at once my accuser and excuse.<br>Let me be damned by the censorious prude<br>(stupidly dull, or spiritually lewd),<br>My hapless case will surely pity find<br>From every just and reasonable mind.<br>When to the final sentence I submit,<br>The lips condemn me, but their souls acquit.<br>No more my husband, to your pleasures go,<br>The sweets of your recovered freedom know. <br>Go: court the brittle friendship of the great,<br>Smile at his board, or at his levee wait;<br>And when dismissed, to madam's toilet fly,<br>More than her chambermaids, or glasses, lie,<br>Tell her how young she looks, how heavenly fair,<br>Admire the lilies and the roses there.<br>Your high ambition may be gratified,<br>Some cousin of her own be made your bride,<br>And you the father of a glorious race<br>Endowed with Ch------l's strength and Low---r's face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lady+Mary+Wortley+Montagu">Lady Mary Wortley Montagu</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431448" data-title="Epistle from Mrs. Yonge to Her Husband de Lady Mary Wortley Montagu" data-description="Think not this paper comes with vain pretense
To move your pity, or to mourn th'offense.
Too well I know that hard obdurate heart;
No softening mercy there will take my part,
Nor can a woman's arguments prevail,
When even your patron's wise exampl..."></div>
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