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No more presuming on her sway, She learns good-nature every day. Serenely gay, and strict in duty, Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty.
TO IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN.
My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
The gift, who slights the giver ?
A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give—and let 'em.
I'll give them--when I get 'em.
I'll give but not the full-blown rose,
Or rose-bud more in fashion ;
A transitory passion.
I'll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere, than civil :
I'll give thee-to the devil,
IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT
LOGICIANS have but ill defin'd
And that this boasted lord of nature