Art of Love

But carefully from all intemperance keep,

Nor drink till you see double, lisp, or sleep;

For in such sleeps brutalities are done,

Which, tho' you loath, you have no pow'r to shun.

And now th' instructed nymph from table led,

Should next be taught how to behave in bed;—

But modesty forbids: nor more my muse

With weary wings the labour'd flight pursues;

Her purple swans unyok'd, the chariot leave,

And needful rest (their journey done) receive.

Thus, with impartial care, my art I show,

And equal arms on either sex bestow;

White men and maids, who by my rules improve,

Ovid, must own, their master is in love.