Strephon, as yet you have your way,
No contradictions tease you;
Submissive to despotic sway,
I’ve read, I’ve wrote to please you.
Howe’er this empire to secure,
You less should seem to know it,
Your pow’r, believe me, won’t endure,
If thus you strive to shew it.
If conscious triumph you’d enjoy,
You must not still perplex me;
Nor all your wit and sense employ,
On themes, _you know_, will vex me.
The woman’s pride may rouze at last,
It can’t be _always_ neuter,
I freely can forgive the past,
But do not tempt the future.