Epistle Ii: To A Lady (of The Characters Of Women ) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABB CCDDEFGGHHII BBIJ KKLLMMNN OOPPMMQQ MMRR SSMMTTUUVVWW XXYBZZA2A2B2B2C2RD2D 2E2E2 MMDDF2G2IIH2H2I2J2K2 K2L2L2M2M2 N2N2O2P2Q2Q2L2L2M2M2 G2G2O2P2 WJM2M2BYM2M2M2M2R2G2 II L2L2S2S2M2M2H2T2L2L2 U2U2L2L2V2V2L2L2L2L2 M2M2O2P2L2L2L2L2M2M2 M2M2YBW2X2 HHL2L2MM L2L2L2L2L2L2Y2Y2L2L2 L2L2BBL2L2Z2Z2NNL2L2 M2M2 A3| NOTHING so true as what you once let fall | A |
| Most Women have no Characters at all | A |
| Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear | B |
| And best distinguish'd by black brown or fair | B |
| - | |
| How many pictures of one Nymph we view | C |
| All how unlike each other all how true | C |
| Arcadia's Countess here in ermin'd pride | D |
| Is there Pastora by a fountain side | D |
| Here Fannia leering on her own good man | E |
| And there a naked Leda with a Swan | F |
| Let then the Fair one beautifully cry | G |
| In Magdalen's loose hair and lifted eye | G |
| Or drest in smiles of sweet Cecilia shine | H |
| With simpering Angels Palms and Harps divine | H |
| Whether the Charmer sinner it or saint it | I |
| If Folly grow romantic I must paint it | I |
| - | |
| Come then the colours and the ground prepare | B |
| Dip in the Rainbow trick her off in Air | B |
| Choose a firm Cloud before it fall and in it | I |
| Catch ere she change the Cynthia of this minute | J |
| - | |
| Rufa whose eye quick glancing o'er the Park | K |
| Attracts each light gay meteor of a Spark | K |
| Agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke | L |
| As Sappho's diamonds with her dirty smock | L |
| Or Sappho at her toilet's greasy task | M |
| With Sappho fragrant at an evening Masque | M |
| So morning Insects that in muck begun | N |
| Shine buzz and flyblow in the setting sun | N |
| - | |
| How soft is Silia fearful to offend | O |
| The Frail one's advocate the Weak one's friend | O |
| To her Calista prov'd her conduct nice | P |
| And good Simplicius asks of her advice | P |
| Sudden she storms she raves You tip the wink | M |
| But spare your censure Silia does not drink | M |
| All eyes may see from what the change arose | Q |
| All eyes may see a Pimple on her nose | Q |
| - | |
| Papillia wedded to her amorous spark | M |
| Sighs for the shades How charming is a Park | M |
| A Park is purchas'd but the Fair he sees | R |
| All bath'd in tears Oh odious odious Trees | R |
| - | |
| Ladies like variegated Tulips show | S |
| 'Tis to their Changes half their charms we owe | S |
| Fine by defect and delicately weak | M |
| Their happy Spots the nice admirer take | M |
| 'Twas thus Calypso once each heart alarm'd | T |
| Aw'd without Virtue without Beauty charmed | T |
| Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her Eyes | U |
| Less Wit than Mimic more a Wit than wise | U |
| Strange graces still and stranger flights she had | V |
| Was just not ugly and was just not mad | V |
| Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create | W |
| As when she touch'd the brink of all we hate | W |
| - | |
| Narcissa's nature tolerably mild | X |
| To make a wash would hardly stew a child | X |
| Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a Lover's pray'r | Y |
| And paid a Tradesman once to make him stare | B |
| Gave alms at Easter in a Christian trim | Z |
| And made a Widow happy for a whim | Z |
| Why then declare Good nature is her scorn | A2 |
| When 'tis by that alone she can be borne | A2 |
| Why pique all mortals yet affect a name | B2 |
| A fool to Pleasure yet a slave to Fame | B2 |
| Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs | C2 |
| Now drinking citron with his Grace and Chartres | R |
| Now Conscience chills her and now Passion burns | D2 |
| And Atheism and Religion take their turns | D2 |
| A very Heathen in the carnal part | E2 |
| Yet still a sad good Christian at her heart | E2 |
| - | |
| See Sin in State majestically drunk | M |
| Proud as a Peeress prouder as a Punk | M |
| Chaste to her Husband frank to all beside | D |
| A teeming Mistress but a barren Bride | D |
| What then let Blood and Body bear the fault | F2 |
| Her Head's untouch'd that noble Seat of Thought | G2 |
| Such this day's doctrine in another fit | I |
| She sins with Poets thro' pure Love of Wit | I |
| What has not fir'd her bosom or her brain | H2 |
| Caesar and Tallboy Charles and Charlemagne | H2 |
| As Helluo late Dictator of the Feast | I2 |
| The Nose of Hautgout and the Tip of Taste | J2 |
| Critick'd your wine and analyz'd your meat | K2 |
| Yet on plain Pudding deign'd at home to eat | K2 |
| So Philomede lecturing all mankind | L2 |
| On the soft Passion and the Taste refin'd | L2 |
| Th' Address the Delicacy stoops at once | M2 |
| And makes her hearty meal upon a Dunce | M2 |
| - | |
| Flavia's a Wit has too much sense to Pray | N2 |
| To Toast our wants and wishes is her way | N2 |
| Nor asks of God but of her Stars to give | O2 |
| The mighty blessing while we live to live | P2 |
| Then all for Death that Opiate of the soul | Q2 |
| Lucretia's dagger Rosamonda's bowl | Q2 |
| Say what can cause such impotence of mind | L2 |
| A spark too fickle or a Spouse too kind | L2 |
| Wise Wretch with Pleasures too refin'd to please | M2 |
| With too much Spirit to be e'er at ease | M2 |
| With too much Quickness ever to be taught | G2 |
| With too much Thinking to have common Thought | G2 |
| You purchase Pain with all that Joy can give | O2 |
| And die of nothing but a Rage to live | P2 |
| - | |
| Turn then from Wits and look on Simo's Mate | W |
| No Ass so meek no Ass so obstinate | J |
| Or her that owns her Faults but never mends | M2 |
| Because she's honest and the best of Friends | M2 |
| Or her whose life the Church and Scandal share | B |
| For ever in a Passion or a Pray'r | Y |
| Or her who laughs at Hell but like her Grace | M2 |
| Cries Ah how charming if there's no such place | M2 |
| Or who in sweet vicissitude appears | M2 |
| Of Mirth and Opium Ratafie and Tears | M2 |
| The daily Anodyne and nightly Draught | R2 |
| To kill those foes to Fair ones Time and Thought | G2 |
| Woman and Fool are two hard things to hit | I |
| For true No meaning puzzles more than Wit | I |
| - | |
| But what are these to great Atossa's mind | L2 |
| Scarce once herself by turns all Womankind | L2 |
| Who with herself or others from her birth | S2 |
| Finds all her life one warfare upon earth | S2 |
| Shines in exposing Knaves and painting Fools | M2 |
| Yet is whate'er she hates and ridicules | M2 |
| No Thought advances but her Eddy Brain | H2 |
| Whisks it about and down it goes again | T2 |
| Full sixty years the World has been her Trade | L2 |
| The wisest Fool much Time has ever made | L2 |
| From loveless youth to unrespected age | U2 |
| No passion gratify'd except her Rage | U2 |
| So much the Fury still outran the Wit | L2 |
| The Pleasure miss'd her and the Scandal hit | L2 |
| Who breaks with her provokes Revenge from Hell | V2 |
| But he's a bolder man who dares be well | V2 |
| Her ev'ry turn with Violence pursu'd | L2 |
| Nor more a storm her Hate than Gratitude | L2 |
| To that each Passion turns or soon or late | L2 |
| Love if it makes her yield must make her hate | L2 |
| Superiors death and Equals what a curse | M2 |
| But an Inferior not dependant worse | M2 |
| Offend her and she knows not to forgive | O2 |
| Oblige her and she'll hate you while you live | P2 |
| But die and she'll adore you Then the Bust | L2 |
| And Temple rise then fall again to dust | L2 |
| Last night her Lord was all that's good and great | L2 |
| A Knave this morning and his Will a Cheat | L2 |
| Strange by the Means defeated of the Ends | M2 |
| By Spirit robb'd of Pow'r by Warmth of Friends | M2 |
| By Wealth of Followers without one distress | M2 |
| Sick of herself thro' very selfishness | M2 |
| Atossa curs'd with ev'ry granted pray'r | Y |
| Childless with all her Children wants an Heir | B |
| To Heirs unknown descends th' unguarded store | W2 |
| Or wanders Heav'n directed to the Poor | X2 |
| - | |
| Pictures like these dear Madam to design | H |
| Asks no firm hand and no unerring line | H |
| Some wandering touches some reflected light | L2 |
| Some flying stroke alone can hit 'em right | L2 |
| For how should equal Colours do the knack | M |
| Chameleons who can paint in white and black | M |
| - | |
| Yet Chloe sure was form'd without a spot | L2 |
| Nature in her then err'd not but forgot | L2 |
| With ev'ry pleasing ev'ry prudent part | L2 |
| Say what can Chloe want She wants a Heart | L2 |
| She speaks behaves and acts just as she ought | L2 |
| But never never reach'd one gen'rous Thought | L2 |
| Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour | Y2 |
| Content to dwell in Decencies for ever | Y2 |
| So very reasonable so unmov'd | L2 |
| As never yet to love or to be lov'd | L2 |
| She while her Lover pants upon her breast | L2 |
| Can mark the figures on an Indian chest | L2 |
| And when she sees her Friend in deep despair | B |
| Observes how much a Chintz exceeds Mohair | B |
| Forbid it Heav'n a Favour or a Debt | L2 |
| She e'er should cancel but she may forget | L2 |
| Safe is your Secret still in Chloe's ear | Z2 |
| But none of Chloe's shall you ever hear | Z2 |
| Of all her Dears she never slander'd one | N |
| But cares not if a thousand are undone | N |
| Would Chloe know if you're alive or dead | L2 |
| She bids her Footman put it in her head | L2 |
| Chloe is prudent Would you too be wise | M2 |
| Then never break your heart when Chloe dies | M2 |
| - | |
| One certain Portrait may I grant b | A3 |
Alexander Pope
(1)
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