A woman’s faults! A pretty theme
Dear miss — Upon my word you dream
I have my full share of toils and moans,
And mean if possible to keep whole bones —
Let me flea giants, if I can;
Let me spit dragons like a man;
Let me encounter hosts of men,
And like bold Falstaff slay twice ten;
Or fairly risk the loss of limb;
Or face the King of Terrors grim;
Or any feat in your defence,
Within the bounds of common sense;
But — to attack ye — Spare my shame,
My hard earn’d honour, courage, fame;
Willfull like some castle in the air,
When I lie slain with bodkin bare.
Yet somehow I suspect ’tis prattle
When you propose this hum’rous battle,
And that to catch & roast a Tartar,
Is all your subtle wish is after.
1810