Hannah More

Nesbit, "To the First of her Sex" Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser (31 January 1778).

Bright muse's queen,
Why art thou seen
With languid eye
And bursting sigh?
You've long been pufft,
At both ends stufft,
With praises thick
As they could stick—
'Tis now but fair
That truth should share.
Your Percy dear,
Sans joke or jeer,
Is such a fudge,
So saith a judge,
That not a spinster,
Or lad Westminster,
But might translate
At better rate.
We constant find
Your scenes want mind;
Such lines puerile
Would gain a ferile
Instead of Bayes
From Doctor Hayes.
Then mend your quill
And try your skill
On odes to Dragon,
Or load a waggon.
With Essays grave,
But prithee save
The town the shock,
To see you mock
Again the muse
In slip-shod shoes.
Write precepts store,
But never more
Attempt the stage,
Lest Mel in rage
Should snatch the ears
That Midas wears,
And in his stead
Bestow them on
Your lovely head!