The
HEAD-ACH
.
To
AURELIA
.
AURELIA
,
when
your
Zeal
makes
known
Each
Woman's
Failing
but
your
own
,
How
charming
Silvia's
Teeth
decay
,
And
Celia's
Hair
is
turning
gray
:
Yet
Celia
gay
has
sparkling
Eyes
,
But
(
to
your
Comfort
)
is
not
wise
:
Methinks
you
take
a
world
of
pains
,
To
tell
us
Celia
has
no
Brains
.
Now
you
wise
Folk
,
who
make
such
a
pother
About
the
Wit
of
one
another
,
With
Pleasure
wou'd
your
Brains
resign
,
Did
all
your
Noddles
ach
like
mine
.
Not
Cuckolds
half
my
Anguish
know
,
When
budding
Horns
begin
to
grow
;
Nor
batter'd
Skull
of
wrestling
Dick
,
Who
late
was
drubb'd
at
single
Stick
;
Not
Wretches
that
in
Fevers
fry
,
Not
Sappho
when
her
Cap's
awry
,
E'er
felt
such
tort'ring
Pangs
as
I
;
Nor
Forehead
of
Sir
Jeff'ry
Strife
,
When
smiling
Cynthio
kiss'd
his
Wife
.
Not
love-sick
Marcia's
languid
Eyes
,
Who
for
her
simp'ring
Corin
dies
,
So
sleepy
look
or
dimly
shine
,
As
these
dejected
Eyes
of
mine
:
Nor
Claudia's
Brow
such
Wrinkles
made
At
sight
of
Cynthia's
new
Brocade
.
Just
so
,
Aurelia
,
you
complain
Of
Vapours
,
Rheums
,
and
gouty
Pain
;
Yet
I
am
patient
,
so
shou'd
you
,
For
Cramps
and
Head-achs
are
our
due
:
We
suffer
justly
for
our
Crimes
;
For
Scandal
you
,
and
I
for
Rhymes
:
Yet
we
(
as
harden'd
Wretches
do
)
Still
the
enchanting
Vice
pursue
;
Our
Reformation
ne'er
begin
,
But
fondly
hug
the
Darling
Sin
.
Yet
there's
a
mighty
diff'rence
too
,
Between
the
Fate
of
me
and
you
;
Tho'
you
with
tott'ring
Age
shall
bow
,
And
Wrinkles
scar
your
lovely
Brow
;
Your
busy
Tongue
may
still
proclaim
The
Faults
of
ev'ry
sinful
Dame
:
You
still
may
prattle
nor
give
o'er
,
When
wretched
I
must
sin
no
more
.
The
sprightly
Nine
must
leave
me
then
,
This
trembling
Hand
resign
its
Pen
;
No
Matron
ever
sweetly
sung
,
Apollo
only
courts
the
young
;
Then
who
wou'd
not
(
Aurelia
,
pray
)
Enjoy
his
Favours
while
they
may
?
Nor
Cramps
nor
Head-achs
shall
prevail
;
I'll
still
write
on
,
and
you
shall
rail
.