Proud with the spoils of royal cully, <br /> With false pretence to wit and parts, <br /> She swaggers like a batter'd bully <br /> To try the tempers of men's hearts. <br /> <br /> Tho' she appears as gay and fine <br /> As jet and gems and paint can make her, <br /> She ne'er shall win a heart like mine -- <br /> The devil or Sir Davy take her. <br /> <br /> Her bed is like the Scripture feast, <br /> Where none who were invited came, <br /> So disappointed of her guest, <br /> She took up with the blind and lame.<br /><br />Earl of Dorset Charles Sackville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/proud-with-the-spoils-of-royal-cully/
