To any Knight of the Attic Chest
who may have courage enough to take up the Gauntlet!
A boon! a boon! the lady cries
Name it, fair dame, the knight replies
’Tis but to speak your sov’reign will,
Must I some caitiff giant kill?
Or dragon fierce shall I attack?
Say, and I’ll do it in a crack.
No gentle knight, I’m not so cruel
To send your worship to such duel,
’Tis not to prance in warlike field
With lance and buckler, sword and shield,
But merely on a sheet of paper
With ink so black, and pen so taper,
A brace or two of lines to write,
Such as your Muse knows well t’indite;
And for a subject, if she halts
Take this, a fruitful one, the Ladies’ faults!