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This granted, can you think it ftrange
We all fhou'd be fo prone to change;
Ev'n from the Go-Cart, 'till we wear
A Sattin Cap i'th' Elbow Chair?
The Follies that the Child began, i
Custom makes Currant in the Man;
And firm by Livery and Seifin,
Holds the Fee-fimple of his Reason

STOPE OF

But ftill the Gufts of Love we find

Blow strongest on a Woman's Mind:
Nor need I learnedly purfue

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The latent Caufe, th' Effect is true;

For proof of which, in manner ample,
I mean to give you one Example.

Upon a time, for fo my Nurfe, di anta

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A lovely Nymph, and just Nineteen,
Began to languish with the Spleen.

She who had fhone at Balls and Play,
In Gold Brocard extremely gay,
All on a fudden grew precife,
Declaim'd against the Growth of Vice,
A very Prude in half a Year;

And most believ'd fhe was fincere.
Necklace of Pearl no more she wears,

That's fanctify'd to count her Prayers.
Venus, and all her naked Loves,
The Reformado Nymph removes;

And Magdalen, with Saints and Martyrs,
Was plac'd in their refpective Quarters.
Nor yet content, the cou'd not bear
The Rankness of the publick Air;

'Twas fo infected with the Vice

Of luscious Songs, and Lovers Sighs.

So

So most devoutly wou'd be gone,
And strait profess her felf a Nun..

A Youth of Breeding and Address,
And call him Thyrfis if you please,
Who had some Wealth to recompenfe
His flender Dividend of Sense;

Yet cou'd with little Thought and Care
Write tender things to please the Fair,
And then fucceffively did grow

From a Half-wit, a finish'd Beau;
(For Fops thus naturally rife,
As Maggots turn to Butterflies.)
This Spark, as Story tells, before
Had held with Madam an Amour;

Which he refolving to pursue,

Exactly took the proper Cue';

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And on the Wings of Love he flies
To Lady Abbefs in Difguife;

And tells her he had brought th' Advowson,

Of Soul and Body to difpofe on.

Old Sanctity, who 'nothing fear'd

In Petticoats without a Beard,

Fond of a Profelyte, and Fees,
Admits the Fox among the Geefely by

Here Duty, Wealth, and Honour prove,
Tho' three to one, too weak for Love:
And to describe the War throughout, o
Wou'd make a glorious piece no doubt:
Where Moral Virtues might be flain,
And rife, and fight, and fall again:
Love fhou'd a bloody Myrtle wear,\7
And, like Camilla, fierce and fair,

The Nun fhou'd charge.-But I forbear.

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All human Joys, tho' fweet in tasting,

Are seldom (more's the Pity!) lasting:

The Nymph had Qualms, her Cheeks were pale,
Which others thought th' Effects of Zeal.
But she, poor she began to doubt,
(Best knowing what she'd been about ;)
The Marriage Earneft-penny lay
And burnt her Pocket, as we say;
She now invokes, to eafe her Soul,
The Dagger and the poifon'd Bowl;
And, Self-condemn'd for breach of Vow
To lose her Life and Honour too,
Talk'd in as Tragical a Strain, as
Your craz'a Monimia's and Roxana's.

But as the in her Cell lay fighing, Distracted, weeping, drooping, dying,

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