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Song XVIII., pp.267-268.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

LAST Sunday at saint James’s pray’rs, 

The prince and princess by, 

I, dress’d in all my whale-bone airs, 

Sat in a closet nigh. 


I bow’d my knees, I held my book, 

Read all the answers o’er; 

But was perverted by a look, 

Which pierc’d me from the door. 


High thoughts of heaven I came to use, 

With the devoutest care; 

Which gay young Strephon made me lose, 

And all the raptures there. 


He wait to hand me to my chair, 

And bow’d with courtly grace; 

But whisper’d love into mine ear, 

Too warm for that grave place. 


Love, love, said he, by all ador’d, 

My tender heart has won: 

But I grew peevish at the word, 

Desir’d he might be gone. 


He went quite out of sight, while I 

A kinder answer meant; 

Nor did I for my sins that day, 

By half so much repent. 

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