The Cabal

WHY shou'd you, lov'd Sensible, shou'd you be pale,
The portrait of Grief you appear;
You look like yon' Lily that droops in the vale,
With my lips let me wipe off that tear.

Disdain a reply to Malignity's tongue,
Let Patience to Clamour submit;
It is better that Slander shou'd say you was wrong,
Than that you the wrong shou'd commit.

The Atheist, if really such madmen exist,
Belief will delirious decry,
In Infidel Doubtings pretend to persist,
What they cannot conceive they deny.

Thus some of your sex, old and ugly, will rail,
Like Atheists all goodness they doubt,
Insisting men may o'er all beauties prevail,
Because themselves could not hold out.

You must pardon the cry, think not strange what I say,
They Mercy from you must receive;
Be it known to your tenderness, 'tis the world's way,
Who injure will never forgive.

Smile, smile, and smile on, let Day beam on your face,
To Oblivion be Obloquy hurl'd;
By the best you're belov'd, thou fair figure of Grace,
So laugh at the rest of the world.