If she but a new object find,
Then straight she's of another mind;
Then hang me, Ladies, at your door,
If e'er I doat upon you more.

Yet still I'll love the fairsome (why?--
For nothing but to please my eye);
And so the fat and soft-skinned dame
I'll flatter to appease my flame;
For she that's musical I'll long,
When I am sad, to sing a song;
Then hang me, Ladies, at your door,
If e'er I doat upon you more.

I'll give my fancy leave to range
Through every where to find out change;
The black, the brown, the fair shall be
But objects of variety.
I'll court you all to serve my turn,
But with such flames as shall not burn;
Then hang me, Ladies, at your door,
If e'er I doat upon you more.

A.D.

* * * * *


WHITE GLOVES AT A MAIDEN ASSIZE.