[9]
Why then declare Good-nature is her scorn,
When 'tis by that alone she can be born?
Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name?
A Fool to Pleasure, yet a Slave to Fame!
Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs,
Now drinking Citron with his Grace and Ch**:
Now Conscience chills her, and now Passion burns,
And Atheism and Religion take their turns;
A very Heathen in the carnal part,
Yet still a sad, good Christian at her heart.
When 'tis by that alone she can be born?
Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name?
A Fool to Pleasure, yet a Slave to Fame!
Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs,
Now drinking Citron with his Grace and Ch**:
Now Conscience chills her, and now Passion burns,
And Atheism and Religion take their turns;
A very Heathen in the carnal part,
Yet still a sad, good Christian at her heart.
Flavia's a Wit, has too much sense to pray,
To toast our wants and wishes, is her way;
Nor asks of God but of her Stars to give
The mighty blessing, "while we live, to live."
Then all for Death, that Opiate of the Soul!
Lucretia's Dagger, Rosamonda's Bowl.
Say, what can cause such impotence of mind?
A Spark too fickle, or a Spouse too kind.
To toast our wants and wishes, is her way;
Nor asks of God but of her Stars to give
The mighty blessing, "while we live, to live."
Then all for Death, that Opiate of the Soul!
Lucretia's Dagger, Rosamonda's Bowl.
Say, what can cause such impotence of mind?
A Spark too fickle, or a Spouse too kind.
Wise
