What Is Prudence?

Prudence, Sir William, is a jewel—
Is clothes, and meat, and drink, and fuel!
Prudence! for man the very best of wives.
Whom bards have seldom met with in their lives;
Which certes does account for, in some measure,
Their grievous want of worldly treasure.
On which the greatest blockheads make their brags,
And sheweth why we see, instead of lace
About the poet's back, with little grace.
Those fluttering, French-like followers — call'd rags.

Prudence, a sweet, obliging, curtsying lass,
Fit through this hypocritic world to pass!
Who kept at first a little peddling shop.
Swept her own room, twirled her own mop,
Wash'd her own clothes, caught her own fleas.
And rose to fame and fortune by degrees;
Who, when she enter'd other people's houses,
'Till spoke to was as silent as a mouse is;
And of opinions tho' possess'd a store.
She left them with her pattens — at the door.