Popebot
popebot.bsky.social
Popebot
@popebot.bsky.social
Alexander Pope, couplet by couplet. A bot by @stwalsh.bsky.social
And trust me, sir, the chastest you can choose,
Will ask observance, and exact her dues.
January 27, 2026 at 3:01 PM
To please a wife, when her occasions call,
Would busy the most vig'rous of us all.
January 27, 2026 at 2:00 PM
But at these years to venture on the Fair!
By him who made the ocean, earth, and air,
January 27, 2026 at 12:59 PM
Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,
And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age:
January 27, 2026 at 11:59 AM
But by th'immortal Powers I feel the pain,
And he that smarts has reason to complain.
January 27, 2026 at 11:49 AM
Demure and chaste as any vestal nun,
The meekest creature that beholds the sun!
January 27, 2026 at 10:49 AM
While all my friends applaud my blissful life,
And swear no mortal's happier in a wife:
January 27, 2026 at 9:48 AM
Heav'n knows I shed full many a private tear,
And sigh in silence lest the world should hear;
January 27, 2026 at 8:47 AM
And spite of all his praises must declare,
All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.
January 27, 2026 at 7:46 AM
Ah, gentle Sir, take warning of a friend,
Who knows too well the state you thus commend;
January 27, 2026 at 6:46 AM
But if her virtue prove the larger share,
Bless the kind Fates and think your fortune rare.
January 27, 2026 at 5:45 AM
'T is true, perfection none must hope to find
In all this world, much less in womankind;
January 27, 2026 at 4:44 AM
Whether an easy, fond, familiar Fool,
Or such a Wit as no man e'er can rule.
January 27, 2026 at 3:43 AM
Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil,
Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil;
January 27, 2026 at 2:43 AM
And therefore, Sir, as you regard your rest,
First learn your lady's qualities at least:
January 27, 2026 at 1:55 AM
The venture's greater, I'll presume to say,
To give your person, than your goods away:
January 27, 2026 at 12:54 AM
Bids us be certain our concerns to trust
To those of gen'rous principles and just.
January 26, 2026 at 11:53 PM
'A heathen author, of the first degree,
(Who, tho' not Faith, had Sense as well as we)
January 26, 2026 at 10:52 PM
Justin, who silent sate, and heard the man,
Thus with a philosophic frown began:
January 26, 2026 at 9:52 PM
Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense,
With rev'rend Dulness and grave Impotence.'
January 26, 2026 at 8:51 PM
Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,
And let gray fools be indolently good,
January 26, 2026 at 7:50 PM
At least your courage all the world must praise,
Who dare to wed in your declining days.
January 26, 2026 at 6:49 PM
Your will is mine; and is (I will maintain)
Pleasing to God, and should be so to Man;
January 26, 2026 at 5:49 PM
This, Sir, affects not you, whose ev'ry word
Is weigh'd with judgment, and befits a Lord:
January 26, 2026 at 4:48 PM
Let him not dare to vent his dangerous thought;
A noble fool was never in a fault.
January 26, 2026 at 3:47 PM