Down, Wanton, Down!

Down, wanton, down! Have you no shame

That at the whisper of Love’s name,

Or Beauty’s, presto! up you raise

Your angry head and stand at gaze?

Poor Bombard-captain, sworn to reach

The ravelin and effect a breach –   

Indifferent what you storm or why,

So be that in the breach you die!

Love may be blind, but Love at least

Knows what is man and what mere beast;

Or Beauty wayward, but requires

More delicacy from her squires.

Tell me, my witless, whose one boast

Could be your staunchness at the post,

When were you made a man of parts

To think fine and profess the arts?

Will many-gifted Beauty come

Bowing to your bald rule of thumb,

Or Love swear loyalty to your crown?

Be gone, have done! Down, wanton, down!