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Though wealthy cit, and airy poet 



Your charms pursue, 

 Church — physic — law — you 're fair, you know it, 



You '11 none, not you ! 



Age looks too dry, and youth too blooming : 

 The scholar's face there 's too much gloom in ; 

 This man 's too dull, that too presuming ; 



His mouth 's too wide ! — 

 For mending, Lord ! you think there's room in 



The best, when tried. 



In each you find some fault to snarl at, 

 And wilful seek the sun by starlight ; 

 Till some gay glittering rogue in scarlet, 



Who lures the eye, 

 Dazzles poor miss, and then the varlet 



Pretends to fly. 



His flight has piqued, his glitter caught her ; 

 And soon her mammy's darling daughter, 

 Whose eyes have made such mighty slaughter, 



Charm'd by a fop, 

 Is fairly hit 'twixt wind and water, 



And, miss ! you drop ! 



Then certain fate of fallen lasses, 



When short-lived bliss more frail than glass is, 



To eyes of all degrees and classes 



Exposed you stand, 

 And soon your beauty circling passes 



From hand to hand. 



In vain your flattering charms display you ; 

 From home and parents far away, you 

 See former friends with scorn survey you ; 



While fools and brutes 

 May take you up, or down may lay you, 



As humour suits. 



