I’ll henceforth dedicate my time,
And if again I write in rhyme,
’Twill be a shrewd severe lampoon
On country wives who fly to town,
And leave their dairy and relations,
To curl their hair and follow fashions:
Or else an acrimonious satire
On matrons who, in spite of Nature,
With common useful duties quarrel,
To plant in vain the barren laurel.