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Such fantastic report will not do;
For bethink thee ’tis madness indeed to be vain
Of folly and ugliness too.
TO AN OLD MAID.
Of stiff deport, demure of phiz,
With airs so prim, a perfect quiz;
With head oblique, and sideling eyes,
And breast where disappointment lies;
Thy maiden charms—thy face appears
To wear the badge of many years,
Of sorrow sad vexation grief,
Where love afforded no relief:
Now pozing o’er those graceless charms
That scar’d all lovers from your arms,
In lean and lanken garb array’d,
I leave the poor neglected maid.
TO A GENTLEMAN.
A Valentine I have receiv’d,
And think it must be thine:
Yet cou’d it be indeed believ’d,
You’d send a Valentine?
If ’twas for mere amusement’s sake,
You practis’d every line;
Why then, in dudgeon I must take
Your wicked Valentine.
