19 A matter which our thoughts run much on ; A subject, if we right conjecture, Which well deserves a long, long lecture, Which all the ladies would approve,--- The natural history of Love, O list' to our united voice, Deny us not, dear Docter Moyes ! Tell us why our poor tender hearts So willingly admit Love's darts Teach us the marks of Love's beginning; What is it makes a beau so winning, What makes us think a coxcomb witty A dotard wise, a red coat pretty: Why we believe such horrid lies--- That we are angles from the skies ; Our teeth are pearl, our cheeks are roses ; Our eyes are stars ; such charming noses ; Explain our dreams, waking and sleeping ; Explain our laughing and our weeping ; Explain our hoping and our doubting, Our blushing, simpering, and pouting; Teach us all the enchanting arts Of winning, and of keeping hearts : Teach us, dear Doctor! if you can, To humble that proud creature, Man ; To turn the wise ones into fools, The proud and insolent to tools; To make them all run helter-skelter, Their necks into the marriage halter ;
