Wit & Attitude Quote by Alexander Pope

A Pope couplet like this lands with the snap of a fan closing: polished, rhythmic, and designed to sting. “Never was it given to mortal man” sets up the mock-heroic drumroll, as if we’re about to hear a grand truth about human nature. Then Pope yanks the rug: the “gift” is not courage or wisdom but lying, and the punchline is gendered. The neatness of the rhyme (“man” / “can”) isn’t just decoration; it’s the mechanism of the joke, making the insult feel inevitable, like a syllogism you’re forced to clap for.

The intent is less a sociological claim than a performance of power. Pope writes in a culture where wit functions like social currency, and cruelty can pass as taste. By framing deception as an almost supernatural female talent, he flatters the speaker’s own acuity: if women lie “so boldly,” then the man who sees through it gets to feel shrewd, injured, and superior all at once. It’s misogyny, yes, but also a self-protective fantasy about male vulnerability - blame the other sex for the embarrassments of desire, jealousy, and being taken in.

Context matters: Pope’s era prized satire that could discipline manners while entertaining polite society. Women were prominent targets because they were prominent presences in the very spaces that crowned wit as a virtue - salons, courts, drawing rooms. The couplet works because it’s portable and quotable, a two-line weapon made for conversation, where laughter can camouflage bias as brilliance.