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139

SONG, Addressed to the Ladies.

I

Ye Belles, and ye Flirts, and ye pert little Things,
Who trip in this frolicsome round,
Prithee tell me from whence this indecency springs,
The sexes at once to confound?
What means the Cock'd Hat, and the masculine air,
With each motion design'd to perplex?
Bright eyes were intended to languish, not stare,
And softness the test of your sex,
Dear Girls,
And softness the test of your sex.

140

II

The girl, who on beauty depends for support,
May call ev'ry art to her aid;
The Bosom display'd, and the Petticoat short,
Are samples she gives of her trade:
But you, on whom Fortune indulgently smiles,
And whom Pride has preserv'd from the snare,
Should slily attack us with coyness and wiles,
Not with open and insolent air,
Brave Girls,
Not with, &c.

III

The Venus, whose statue delights all mankind,
Shrinks modestly back from the view,
And kindly shou'd seem by the artist design'd
To serve as a model for you:
Then learn with her beauties to copy her air,
Nor venture too much to reveal;
Our fancies will paint what you cover with care,
And double each charm you conceal,
Sweet Girls,
And double, &c.

141

IV

The blushes of Morn, and the mildness of May,
Are charms which no art can procure:
Oh! be but yourselves, and our homage we'll pay,
And your empire is solid and sure:
But if, Amazon-like, you attack your Gallants,
And put us in fear of our lives,
You may do very well for Sisters and Aunts,
But, believe me, you'll never be Wives,
Poor Girls,
Believe me, &c.