Occasion'd by a Dispute with a Lady

FORGIVE me, CHLOE; 'twas a Deed,
That from Ambition sprung;
I'll ne'er again presume to plead
With your victorious Tongue.

SUCH Wisdom in your Words appears,
Such Music makes them please;
Mine lose their Force, like Morning Stars
Before the Solar Rays.

CONQUER'D by your superior Sense,
I drop the wordy War,
Convinc'd, your pow'rful Eloquence
Is strong, as you are fair.

YET, tho' subdu'd, my Fall is great,
Nor shamefully I yield;
'Tis Honour to contend, tho' beat,
When Angels take the Field.