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And, rifling ev'ry youthful grace,
The glass, grown hateful to her sight,
Poor madam, now condemn'd to hack
No more presuming on her sway, She learns good-nature ev'ry day : Serenely gay, and strict in duty, Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty.
IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN
SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,
Expressive of my duty ?
My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
The gift who slights the giver?
A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give-and let 'em ;
I'll give them--when I get 'em.
I'll give—but not the full-blown rose,
Or rose-bud more in fashion ; Such short-liv'd off'rings but disclose
A transitory passion.
I'll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere than civil: I'll give thee-ah! too charming maid,
I'll give thee~to the devil.
IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT,
LOGICIANS have but ill defin'd
soul I cannot credit 'em :