Song XII., p.260.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

BE wary, my Celia, when Celadon sues, 

These wits are the bane of your charms: 

Beauty, play’d against reason, will certainly lose, 

Warring naked with robbers in arms. 


Young Damon despis’d for his plainness of parts, 

Has worth that a woman should prize; 

He’ll run the race out, tho’ he heavily starts, 

And distance the short winded wise. 


Your fool is a saint in the temple of love, 

And kneels all his life there to pray; 

Your wit but looks in, and makes haste to remove, 

‘Tis a stage he but takes in his way. 

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