Occasion'd by a Dispute with a LADY

Forgive me, CHLOE; 'twas a Deed, That from Ambition sprung; I'll ne'er again presume to plead With your victorious Tongue.

SUCH Wisdom in your Words appears, Such Music makes them please; Mine lose their Force, like Morning Stars Before the Solar Rays.

CONQUER'D by your superior Sense, I drop the wordy War, Convinc'd, your pow'rful Eloquence Is strong, as you are fair.

YET, tho' subdu'd, my Fall is great, Nor shamefully I yield; 'Tis Honour to contend, tho' beat, When Angels take the Field.