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ON SIGNORA DOMITILLA.
Great Theodose condemn'd a town
For thinking ill of his Placilla;
And deuse take London! if some knight
O' th' city wed not Domitilla.
Wheeler, sir George, in travels wise,
Gives us a medal of Plantilla;
But O! the empress has not eyes,
Nor lips, nor breast, like Domitilla.
Not all the wealth of plundered Italy,
Piled on the mules of king At-tila,
Is worth one glove (I’ll not tell a bit a lie)
Or garter, snatch'd from Domitilla.
Five years a nymph at certain hamlet,
Y-cleped Harrow of the Hill, a-
— bus'd much my heart, and was a damn'd let
To verse — but now for Domitilla.
Dan Pope consigns Belinda's watch
To the fair sylphid Momentilla,
And thus I offer up my catch
To th’ snow-white hands of Domitilla.
HORACE,