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MISCELLANIES.
CHLOE.
Chloe ’s the wonder of her ſex,
’T is well her heart is tender;
How might ſuch killing eyes perplex,
With virtue to defend her!4
But Nature, graciouſly inclin’d,
With lib’ral hand to pleaſe us,
Has to her boundleſs beauty join’d
A boundleſs bent to ease us.8
ON THE SAME.
Bright as the day, and like the morning fair,
Such Chloe is—and common as the air.2
ON THE SAME.
Of injur’d fame, and mighty wrongs receiv’d,
Chloe complains, and wondrouſly ’s aggriev’d.
That free, and laviſh of a beauteous face,
The faireſt and the fouleſt of her race;4
She ’s mine, or thine; and ſtrolling up and down
Sucks in more filth than any ſink in Town,
I not deny; this I have ſaid, ’t is true:
What wrong! to give ſo bright a nymph her due.8
