'Tis we that can dispose alone, 325 Whether your heirs shall be your own, To whose integrity you must, In spight of all your caution, trust; And, 'less you fly beyond the seas, Can fit you with what heirs we please; 330 And force you t' own 'em, though begotten By French Valets or Irish Footmen. Nor can the vigorousest course Prevail, unless to make us worse; Who still, the harsher we are us'd, 335 Are further off from b'ing reduc'd; And scorn t' abate, for any ills, The least punctilios of our wills. Force does but whet our wits t' apply Arts, born with us, for remedy; 340 Which all your politicks, as yet, Have ne'er been able to defeat: For when y' have try'd all sorts of ways, What fools d' we make of you in plays! While all the favours we afford, 345 Are but to girt you with the sword, To fight our battles in our steads, And have your brains beat out o' your heads; Encounter, in despite of nature, And fight at once, with fire and water, 350 With pirates, rocks, and storms, and seas, Our pride and vanity t' appease; Kill one another, and cut throats, For our good graces, and best thoughts; To do your exercise for honour, 355 And have your brains beat out the sooner; Or crack'd, as learnedly, upon Things that are never to be known; And still appear the more industrious, The more your projects are prepost'rous; 360 To square the circle of the arts, And run stark mad to shew your parts; Expound the oracle of laws, And turn them which way we see cause Be our solicitors and agents, 365 And stand for us in all engagements. And these are all the mighty pow'rs You vainly boast to cry down ours; And what in real value's wanting, Supply with vapouring and ranting; 370 Because yourselves are terrify'd, And stoop to one another's pride, Believe we have as little wit To be out-hector'd, and submit; By your example, lose that right 375 In treaties which we gain'd in fight; And, terrify'd into an awe, Pass on ourselves a <o> Salique law: Or, as some nations use, give place, And truckle to your mighty race; 380 Let men usurp th' unjust dominion, As if they were the better women. NOTES ON THE LADY's ANSWER TO THE KNIGHT. 133 l Whose Arrows learned Poets hold, &c.] The poets feign Cupid to have two sorts of arrows; the one tipped with gold, and the other with lead. The golden always inspire and inflame love in the persons he wounds with them: but, on the contrary, the leaden create the utmost aversion and hatred. With the first of these he shot Apollo, and with the other Daphne, according to Ovid.