(A proof she knows not what beside to do;)
What's her experience? In the time that's gone,
Blundering she wrought, and still she blunders on:—
What is Nature? One who acts in aid
Of gossips half asleep, and half afraid.
With such allies I scorn my fame to blend,
Skill is my luck and courage is my friend;
No slave to Nature, 'tis my chief delight
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To win my way and act in her despite:—