"Our Sex, you know, was after yours design'd; / The last Perfection of the Makers mind: / Heav'n drew out all the Gold for us, and left your Dross behind."
— Dryden, John (1631-1700); [Plautus, Molière]
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for F. Tonson and M. Tonson
Date
1690
Metaphor
"Our Sex, you know, was after yours design'd; / The last Perfection of the Makers mind: / Heav'n drew out all the Gold for us, and left your Dross behind."
Metaphor in Context
The lab'ring Bee, when his sharp Sting is gone,
Forgets his Golden Work, and turns a Drone:
Such is a Satyr, when you take away
That Rage, in which his Noble Vigour lay.
What gain you, by not suffering him to teize ye?
He neither can offend you, now, nor please ye.
The Honey-bag, and Venome, lay so near,
That both, together, you resolv'd to tear;
And lost your Pleasure, to secure your Fear.
How can he show his Manhood, if you bind him
To box, like Boys, with one Hand ty'd behind him?
This is plain levelling of Wit; in which
The Poor has all th' advantage, not the Rich.
The Blockhead stands excus'd; for wanting Sense;
And Wits turn Blockheads in their own defence.
Yet, though the Stages Traffick is undone,
Still Julian's interloping Trade goes on:
Though Satyr on the Theatre you smother,
Yet in Lampoons, you Libel one another.
The first produces still, a second Jig;
You whip 'em out, like School-boys, till they gig:
And, with the same success, we Readers guess;
For, ev'ry one, still dwindles to a less.
And much good Malice, is so meanly drest,
That we wou'd laugh, but cannot find the Jest.
If no advice your Rhiming Rage can stay,
Let not the Ladies suffer in the Fray.
Their tender Sex, is priviledg'd from War;
'Tis not like Knights, to draw upon the Fair.
What Fame expect you from so mean a Prize?
We wear no murd'ring Weapons, but our Eyes.
Our Sex, you know, was after yours design'd;
The last Perfection of the Makers mind:
Heav'n drew out all the Gold for us, and left your Dross behind.
Beauty, for Valours best Reward, He chose;
Peace, after War; and after Toil, Repose.
Hence ye Prophane; excluded from our sights;
And charm'd by Day, with Honour's vain delights,
Go, make your best of solitary Nights.
Recant betimes, 'tis prudence to submit:
Our Sex, is still your Overmatch, in Wit:
We never fail, with new, successful Arts,
To make fine Fools of you; and all your Parts.
Forgets his Golden Work, and turns a Drone:
Such is a Satyr, when you take away
That Rage, in which his Noble Vigour lay.
What gain you, by not suffering him to teize ye?
He neither can offend you, now, nor please ye.
The Honey-bag, and Venome, lay so near,
That both, together, you resolv'd to tear;
And lost your Pleasure, to secure your Fear.
How can he show his Manhood, if you bind him
To box, like Boys, with one Hand ty'd behind him?
This is plain levelling of Wit; in which
The Poor has all th' advantage, not the Rich.
The Blockhead stands excus'd; for wanting Sense;
And Wits turn Blockheads in their own defence.
Yet, though the Stages Traffick is undone,
Still Julian's interloping Trade goes on:
Though Satyr on the Theatre you smother,
Yet in Lampoons, you Libel one another.
The first produces still, a second Jig;
You whip 'em out, like School-boys, till they gig:
And, with the same success, we Readers guess;
For, ev'ry one, still dwindles to a less.
And much good Malice, is so meanly drest,
That we wou'd laugh, but cannot find the Jest.
If no advice your Rhiming Rage can stay,
Let not the Ladies suffer in the Fray.
Their tender Sex, is priviledg'd from War;
'Tis not like Knights, to draw upon the Fair.
What Fame expect you from so mean a Prize?
We wear no murd'ring Weapons, but our Eyes.
Our Sex, you know, was after yours design'd;
The last Perfection of the Makers mind:
Heav'n drew out all the Gold for us, and left your Dross behind.
Beauty, for Valours best Reward, He chose;
Peace, after War; and after Toil, Repose.
Hence ye Prophane; excluded from our sights;
And charm'd by Day, with Honour's vain delights,
Go, make your best of solitary Nights.
Recant betimes, 'tis prudence to submit:
Our Sex, is still your Overmatch, in Wit:
We never fail, with new, successful Arts,
To make fine Fools of you; and all your Parts.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "mind" and "gold" in HDIS (Drama)
Citation
Robert Markley and Jeannie Dalporto describe the play as "an instant success," with eighteenth-century revivals. Over thirty entries in the ESTC (1690, 1691, 1693, 1694, 1695, 1706, 1710, 1721, 1723, 1732, 1735, 1756, 1758, 1759, 1771, 1777, 1780, 1792).
See John Dryden, Amphitryon, or, The two Socia's. A Comedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal. Written by Mr. Dryden. To which is added, The Musick of the Songs. Compos'd by Mr. Henry Purcel. (London: Printed for J. Tonson and M. Tonson, 1690). <Link to EEBO-TCP>
Reading text edited by Robert Markley and Jeannie Dalporto, in The Broadview Anthology of Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century Drama (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 2001).
See John Dryden, Amphitryon, or, The two Socia's. A Comedy. As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal. Written by Mr. Dryden. To which is added, The Musick of the Songs. Compos'd by Mr. Henry Purcel. (London: Printed for J. Tonson and M. Tonson, 1690). <Link to EEBO-TCP>
Reading text edited by Robert Markley and Jeannie Dalporto, in The Broadview Anthology of Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century Drama (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Press, 2001).
Theme
Dualism
Date of Entry
05/25/2005
