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These in two sable ringlets taught to break,
RAPE OF THE LOCK.
She said: the pitying audience melt in tears;
'Say, why are beauties prais'd and honour'd most, The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast? Why dcck'd with all the land and sea afford, Why angels call'd, and angel-like ador'd? Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd 'beaux? Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows? How vain are all these glories, all our pains, Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains; That men may say, when we the front-box grace, "Behold the first in virtue as in face!" Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old age away, Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce, Or who would learn one earthly thing of use? To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint, Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint.