Thus, not all the Charms of the incomparable Sophia; not all the dazzling Brightneſs, and languiſhing Softneſs of her Eyes; the Harmony of her Voice, and of her Perſon; not all her Wit, good Humour, Greatneſs of Mind, or Sweetneſs of Diſpoſition, had been able ſo abſolutely to conquer and enſlave the Heart of poor Jones, as this little Incident of the Muff. Thus the Poet ſweetly ſings of Troy.
Captiq; dolis lachrymiſq; coacti
Quos neq; Tydides, nec Lariſſæus Achilles,
Non anni domuere decem, no mille Carinæ.
What Diomede, or Thetis’ greater Son,
A thouſand Ships, nor ten Years Siege had done,
Falſe Fears, and fawning Words, the City won.
The Citadel of Jones was now taken by Surprize. All thoſe Conſiderations of Honour and Prudence, which our Heroe had lately with ſo much military Wiſdom placed as Guards over the Avenues of his Heart, ran away from their Poſts, and the God of Love marched in in Triumph.
CHAP.
