Your late kind Gift let me restore;
For I must never wear it more.
My Mother cries, “What’s here to do?
“A Crimson Velvet Cap for you!
“If to these Heights so soon you climb,
“You’ll wear a Coachman’s Cap in time:
“Perhaps on Palfry pace along,
“With ruffled Shirt, and Tete–Moutton;
“Banish the Woman from your Face,
“And let the Rake supply the Place;
“Delighted see the People stare,
“And ask each other what you are?
If she goes on to this dull Tune,
Poor I must be a Quaker soon.
She’ll scarcely let me wear a Knot;
But keeps me like a Hottentot;
Says, Dressing plain, at small Expence,
Shews better Taste, and better Sense.
I’d take her Judgment, I confess,
Sooner in any Thing, than Dress;
A Science, which she little knows,
Who only huddles on her Cloaths.
This Day, to please my Brother Con.
She let me put your Present on;
And when she saw me very glad,
Cry’d out, She looks like one that’s mad!
“Know, Girl, (says she) that Affectation
“Suits only those in higher Station;
“Who plead Prescription for their Rule,
“Whene’er they please to play the Fool:
“But that it best becomes us Cits,
“To dress like People in their Wits.”
(Mary Barber)
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Based on Topics: Time Poems, Faces Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Place Poems, Cry Poems, Woman Poems, People Poems, Fool Poems, Madness Poems, Confession Poems, Judgment PoemsBased on Keywords: coachman, prescription, expence, cloaths, huddles, hottentot, cits, palfry