Drunken State: Pope’s Punch

Pope A Purple

See Sin in State, majestically drunk;
Proud as a peeress, prouder as a punk;
Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside,
A teeming mistress, but a barren bride.
What then? let blood and body bear the fault,
Her head’s untouch’d, that noble seat of thought:
Such this day’s doctrine—in another fit
She sins with poets through pure love of wit.
What has not fir’d her bosom or her brain?
Caesar and Tallboy, Charles and Charlema’ne.
As Helluo, late dictator of the feast,
The nose of hautgout, and the tip of taste,
Critiqu’d your wine, and analys’d your meat,
Yet on plain pudding deign’d at home to eat;
So Philomede, lect’ring all mankind
On the soft passion, and the taste refin’d,
Th’ address, the delicacy—stoops at once,
And makes her hearty meal upon a dunce.

Pope Afrom:  To a Lady on the Characters of Women  by Alexander Pope

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