If

you refufe your Charms;

Die when you please, the Nymph replies,
But die in Flavia's Arms.

The COMPLAINT.

HAppy thofe Swains in Days of Yore,

When ev'ry Nymph went loosely dreft;

When only Skins flung lightly o'er,
Or fome fuch easy Garb they wore,
Which never did Love's Joy moleft

"But.

But fuch a Drefs, degen'rate We

Can never but in Pictures fee;

For ev'ry Nymph wears now a-days,
So many Petticoats and Pins,

Girdles, and other fuch Delays,

The Pleasure, while the LOVER stays,
Is vanish'd, e'er the Sport begins,

THE

HLOE, a Country Vicar's Daughter,
Had many useful Leffons taught her,
She read the Chapters ev'ry Day,

And David's Pfalms by Heart could fay;

Would hurry when Bell rung to Pray'rs,

Ready to break her Neck down Stairs;

Nor

Nor would be abfent from Confeffion,

At any Mortal's Interceffion;
Was caution'd never to be idle,

But either Read, or ufe her Needle.
Thus was he often told her Duty,
(The old Man knowing her a Beauty,
With little Money, which the more
Expos'd her to become a Whore)

No Pains were spar'd to make her good,
But, ah! how frail is Flesh and Blood,
When to the wide World left alone,
No Will to follow, but its own?
For tho' fhe promis'd very fair,
While underneath her Father's Care,
Yet fhe, as foon as Dad was Dead,
Grew weary of her Maidenhead.
Refolving ftrait to be a Bride,
And taste of Pleasures yet untry'd;
But ftill intends to guard her Honour,
Whatever Longings were upon her;
Having been taught, that Fornication
Is a great Sin, tho' much in Fashion.
With this Defign, to Town The came,
Where wicked Nelly heard her Fame;
Nelly of all her Sex the worst,
Nelly! by Hundreds daily curft,

Whom the by Artifice had won,

To fell themselves and be undone.

But

Well known to ev'ry Rake in Town;
All Batchelors that ufe her House,

May have each Night a diff'rent Spouse,
Without th' intolerable Fetter,

Of being link'd for Worfe and Better;
No married Man, but there may find
Variety, when fo inclin'd

She has a Ruby fhining Face,

Which fome may think th' Effect of Grace;

For fhe can counterfeit Devotion,

And of Religion has this Notion,

That doubtlefs That must be the best,

Which with moft Eafe will make her bleft;
That where Indulgences are giv'n,
Is fure the nearest Way to Heav'n.

Oh! happy thofe, who in a Trice, Thus free themselves of ev'ry Vice; Can Sin afresh, and run on fcore, And reckon for what's past no more, With Origen they hope Salvation, Believing there is no Damnation;

But