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A Riddle.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A Riddle.

In sacred Wedlock I am yearly ty'd,
Fond of an antient Mate, and none beside:
He sometimes raves, nay, lashes me severely;
And yet I love my Tyrant most sincerely:
For in his dear embrace, secure and bless'd,
A spotless Virgin to this hour I rest;
So may I rest a Virgin, tho' a Wife:
Robb'd of that name, I soon should lose my Life.