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To----

Topics: classic

1.     Oh! well I know your subtle Sex,     Frail daughters of the wanton Eve, -     While jealous pangs our Souls perplex,     No passion prompts you to relieve. 2     From Love, or Pity ne'er you fall,     By you, no mutual Flame is felt,     "Tis Vanity, which rules you all,     Desire alone which makes you melt. 3     I will not say no souls are yours,     Aye, ye have Souls, and dark ones too,     Souls to contrive those smiling lures,     To snare our simple hearts for you. 4     Yet shall you never bind me fast,     Long to adore such brittle toys,     I'll rove along, from first to last,     And change whene'er my fancy cloys. 5     Oh! I should be a baby fool,     To sigh the dupe of female art -     Woman! perhaps thou hast a Soul,     But where have Demons hid thy Heart?

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