At Ombre ſingly to decide their Doom;
And ſwells her Breaſt with Conqueſts yet to come.
Strait the three Bands prepare in Arms to join,
Each Band the number of the Sacred Nine.
Soon as she ſpreads her Hand, th' Aerial Guard
Deſcend, and ſit on each important Card:
First Ariel perch'd upon a Matadore,
Then each, according to the Rank they bore;
For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient Race,
Are, as when Women, wondrous fond of Place.
With hoary Whiskers and a forky Beard;
And four fair Queens whoſe hands ſuſtain a Flow'r,
Th' expreſſive Emblem of their ſofter Pow'r;
Four Knaves in Garbs ſuccinct, a truſty Band,
Caps on their heads, and Halberds in their hand;
And Particolour'd Troops, a ſhining Train,
Draw forth to Combat on the Velvet Plain.
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The RAPE of the LOCK.