To a Lady saying she would Hate me, if I should write Satyr

Since Satyr, Madam, his her Birth from spight,
If you should Hate me, that would make me Write.
My Satyr's Teeth, whene'er she Bites, draws Blood,
Not sharp; but very Blunt; and that's as good.
Provok'd, like Jove's, my strugling Thunder's hurld,
Broad Sheets of rage, like light'nings, are unfurl'd,
And I could Flash, and Blast, and Tear the World.
I boast an equal Priviledge with you.
Sat'ring my self, in every thing I do.