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As witty nymphs, in converfation, give)
Near fome obliging modeft fair to live:
For there's that sweetness in a female mind,
Which in a man's we cannot hope to find:
That by a fecret, but a pow'rful art,
Winds up the fprings of life, and does impart
Fresh vital heat to the tranfported heart.

I'd have her reafon all her paffion sway;
Eafy in company, in private gay:
Coy to a fop, to the deferving free;
Still conftant to herself, and juft to me.
A foul she should have for great actions fit ;
Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit:
Courage to look bold danger in the face;
No fear, but only to be proud, or base:
Quick to advise, by an emergence prefs'd,
To give good counsel, or to take the beft.
I'd have th' expreffion of her thoughts be fuch,
She might not feem referv'd, nor talk too much;
That fhews a want of judgment and of fenfe:
More than enough is but impertinence.
Her conduct regular, her mirth refin'd;
Civil to ftrangers, to her neighbours kind:
Averse to vanity, revenge, and pride;
In all the methods of deceit untry'd:
So faithful to her friend, and good to all,
No cenfure might upon her actions fall:
Then would e'en envy be compell'd to fay,
She
goes the leaft of womankind astray.

To this fair creature I'd fometimes retire;
Her conversation would new joys inspire ;
Give life an edge fo keen, no furly care
Would venture to affault my foul, or dare
Near my retreat, to hide one fecret fnare.
But fo divine, fo noble a repast

I'd feldom, and with moderation, taste:
For highest cordials all their virtue lofe,
By a too frequent and too bold a use;
And what would cheer the fpirits in distress,
Ruins our health, when taken to excess.

I'd be concern'd in no litigious jar ;
Belov'd by all, not vainly popular.

Whate'er affiftance I had pow'r to bring,
T'oblige my country, or to ferve my king,
Whene'er they call'd, I'd readily afford
My tongue, my pen, my counfel, or my fword.
Law fuits I'd fhun, with as much ftudious care,
As I would dens where hungry lions are;
And rather put up injuries, than be
A plague to him, who'd be a plague to me;
I value quiet at a price too great,
To give for my revenge so dear a rate :
For what do we by all our buftle gain,
But counterfeit delight for real pain?

If heav'n a date of many years would give,
Thus I'd in pleasure, eafe, and plenty live :
And as I near approach'd the verge of life,
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
Whilft I did for a better ftate prepare.
Then I'd not be with any trouble vex'd,
Nor have the ev❜ning of my days perplex'd;
But, by a filent and a peaceful death,
Without a figh refign my aged breath.
And when committed to the duft, I'd have
Few tears, but friendly, dropp'd into my grave;
Then would my exit fo propitious be,

All men would wish to live, and die like me.

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