that true beauty and grace muſt ariſe from the play of the mind? and how can they be expected to reliſh in a lover what they do not, or very imperfectly, poſſeſs themſelves? The ſympathy that unites hearts, and invites to confidence, in them is ſo very faint, that it cannot take fire, and thus mount to paſſion. No, I repeat it, the love cheriſhed by ſuch minds, muſt have groſſer fuel.
The inference is obvious; till women are led to exerciſe their underſtandings, they ſhould not be ſatirized for their attachment to rakes; nor even for being rakes at heart, when it appears to be the inevitable conſequence of their education. They who live to pleaſe—muſt find their enjoyments, their happineſs, in pleaſure! It is a trite, yet true remark, that we never do any thing well, unleſs we love it for its own ſake.
Suppoſing, however, for a moment, that women were, in ſome future revolution of time, to become, what I ſincerely wiſh them to be, even love would acquire more ſerious dignity, and be purified in its own fires; and virtue giving true delicacy to their affections, they would turn with diſguſt from a rake. Reaſoning then, as well as feeling, the only province of woman, at preſent, they might eaſily guard againſt exteriour graces, and quickly learn to deſpiſe the ſenſibility that had been excited and hackneyed in the ways of women, whoſe trade was vice; and allurements, wanton airs. They would recollect that the flame, one muſt uſe appropriated expreſſions, which they wiſhed to light up, had been exhauſted by luſt, and that the ſated appetite loſing all reliſh for pure and ſimple pleaſures, could only
