Four-and-twenty false curls, * *
* * * * *
Four-and-twenty false teeth, and quite as false a tongue,
Which tells how virtuous was the world when--_she and it were young_.
Or rather for these thirty years has moralizing told,
How this good deed and that she'll do, _before_ she grows old:
Four-and-twenty sighs a-day, that our rude English sky
Is not _precise_ as _she_--and may wash off the dye
Meretricious of her cheeks, which are then like gold,
(Though _less tempting_;) _sweet_ and yellow as a marigold![2]
Four-and-twenty wailings o'er the wedded state,
Yet twice as many every day 'tis not _her_ fate;
Pretending to the world 'tis mere _choice_ that has led
To singleness--yet choosing all the while to be wed,
If any doting fool could be doting fool enough
To bid for such a breaking down piece of stuff;
For any such a winter, that has shed the flowers of spring,
Whose autumn too is flown; nor left its fruit or any thing!
* * * * *
Yes, _such_ are the marks deep branded on a class
Of busy blanks, non-entities, creation's very farce;
In _these_ scales then be every piece of Eve's flesh weighed,
Find _these_ criteria, and be sure you've found an--Ancient Maid!
W. P----N.
[2] So much for the "heinous crime of _self-painting_;" as Lord
Chesterfield says; in speaking of which, "It is even whispered
about the town, (he observes) of that excellent artist,
Mr.
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