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A Letter Written For My Daughter To A Lady, Who Had Presented Her With A Cap. - Poem by Mary Barber (Barber Mary)

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Your late kind Gift let me restore; For I must never wear it more. My Mother cries, ``What's here to do? ``A Crimson Velvet Cap for you! ``If to these Heights so soon you climb, ``You'll wear a Coachman's Cap in time: ``Perhaps on Palfry pace along, ``With ruffled Shirt, and Tete--Moutton; ``Banish the Woman from your Face, ``And let the Rake supply the Place; ``Delighted see the People stare, ``And ask each other what you are? If she goes on to this dull Tune, Poor I must be a Quaker soon. She'll scarcely let me wear a Knot; But keeps me like a Hottentot; Says, Dressing plain, at small Expence, Shews better Taste, and better Sense. I'd take her Judgment, I confess, Sooner in any Thing, than Dress; A Science, which she little knows, Who only huddles on her Cloaths. This Day, to please my Brother Con. She let me put your Present on; And when she saw me very glad, Cry'd out, She looks like one that's mad! ``Know, Girl, (says she) that Affectation ``Suits only those in higher Station; ``Who plead Prescription for their Rule, ``Whene'er they please to play the Fool: ``But that it best becomes us Cits, ``To dress like People in their Wits.'' Mary Barber

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