No more, ye proud Tyrants, burlesque Women's Tongues,
But dowNon your Knees, and acknowledge our Wrongs:
Lo! here are a Couple of sage moral Creatures,
Whose Clacks are more loud than the Bells at St. Peters:
Each strives to be heard, and talks wonderous fast,
Yet not one serious Word from the first to the last.

Unfortunate Sex! we've not one Province free,
The Men now usurp both our Chatting and Tea:
Tho' Nahum has stil'd it a Liquor divine,
My Share of that Nectar, I hereby resign:
For if this be the Eloquence Tea does inspire,
I'll no more such a talkative Blessing desire.