BELINDA.
BElinda's Pride's an arrant Cheat,
A foolish Artifice to blind;
Some honest Glance, that scorns Deceit,
Does still reveal her native Mind.
With Look demure, and forc'd Disdain,
She idly acts the Saint;
We see thro' this Disguise, as plain
As we distinguish Paint.
The Pains she takes are vainly meant
To hide her amorous Heart,
'Tis like perfuming an ill Scent,
The Smell's too strong for Art.
So have I seen grave Fools design
With formal Looks to pass for wise:
But Nature is a Light will shine,
And break thro' all Disguise.