Daphne

Daphne knows, with equal ease,     How to vex, and how to please;     But the folly of her sex     Makes her sole delight to vex.     Never woman more devised     Surer ways to be despised;     Paradoxes weakly wielding,     Always conquer'd, never yielding.     To dispute, her chief delight,     Without one opinion right:     Thick her arguments she lays on,     And with cavils combats reason;     Answers in decisive way,     Never hears what you can say;     Still her odd perverseness shows     Chiefly where she nothing knows;     And, where she is most familiar,     Always peevisher and sillier;     All her spirits in a flame     When she knows she's most to blame.         Send me hence ten thousand miles,     From a face that always smiles:     None could ever act that part,     But a fury in her heart.     Ye who hate such inconsistence,     To be easy, keep your distance:     Or in folly still befriend her,     But have no concern to mend her;     Lose not time to contradict her,     Nor endeavour to convict her.     Never take it in your thought,     That she'll own, or cure a fault.     Into contradiction warm her,     Then, perhaps, you may reform her:     Only take this rule along,     Always to advise her wrong;     And reprove her when she's right;     She may then grow wise for spight.         No - that scheme will ne'er succeed,     She has better learnt her creed;     She's too cunning and too skilful,     When to yield, and when be wilful.     Nature holds her forth two mirrors,     One for truth, and one for errors:     That looks hideous, fierce, and frightful;     This is flattering and delightful:     That she throws away as foul;     Sits by this to dress her soul.         Thus you have the case in view,     Daphne, 'twixt the Dean and you:     Heaven forbid he should despise thee,     But he'll never more advise thee.