But you, whom heaven at first design'd
The boast and envy of your kind;
Above your sex's censure plac'd,
In beauty, breeding, temper, taste;
Who only show regard to merit,
Unconscious what yourself inherit;
While other ladies fume and rail
In indignation at my tale;
With each reflection pick a quarrel,
And find a satire in each moral;
May safely every page peruse,
Nor be offended with the Muse;
Where not a single line appears,
Which honour dreads, or virtue fears.