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And, rifling ev'ry youthful grace,
The glass, grown hateful to her sight,
Poor madam, now condemn'd to hack The rest of life with anxious Jack, Perceiving others fairly flown, Attempted pleasing him alone. Jack soon was dazzled to behold Her present face surpass the old; With modesty her cheeks are dy'd, Humility displaces pride; For tawdry finery is seen A person ever neatly clean:
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. THE GIFT,
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 :