Sir John. Welcome, thou brave Defender of our Right Until now, I thought you knew not how to Write:Dull heavy Morals did your Pens employ And all your business was to pall our Joy: With frightful Tales our Ears you still did grate,And we with awful Reverence heard you prate;Heard you declaim on Vice, and blame the Times, Because we impudently shared your Crimes;
Those darling Sins you wholly would engross:And when disturbed, and fretting at your loss, With whining Tones, and a pretended Zeal, Saw you the Rancor of your Minds Reveal Till now, none of your Tribe were ever kind, Good Humor is alone to you confined You, who against those Terrors of our Lives, Those worst of Plagues, those Furies called our Wives,Have shewed your Anger in a Strain Divine,Resentment sparkles in each poignant Line.Sure you've the Fate of wretched Husbands met,And 'tis your own Misfortune you regret;You could not else with such a feeling Sense Expatiate on each Fault, and Blazon each Offence.