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
But ftill the Gufts of Love we find
Blow strongest on a Woman's Mind: Nor need I learnedly purfue
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
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 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';
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.
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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