I sing the boy, who, gagged and bound,
Has been by nature robbed of sound;
Yet has she found a generous way,
One loss by many gifts to pay.
His voice, indeed, she close confined,
But blest him with a speaking mind;
And every muscle of his face
Discourses with peculiar grace:
The ladies tattling o’er their tea,
Might learn to charm by copying thee.
If silence thus can man become,
All women beauties would be dumb.
Then, happy boy, no more complain,
Nor think thy loss of speech a pain:
Nature has used thee like good liquor,
And corked thee but to make thee quicker.
_Written on the Chamber Door of King Charles II._