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Young Hermes next, a close-contriving God, Her Brows encircled with his Serpent Rod: Then Plots and fair Excuses, filld her Brain, The Views of breaking am'rous Vows for Gain, The Price of Favours ; the designing Arts That aim at Riches in Contempt of Hearts; And for a Comfort in the Marriage Life, The little, pilf'ring Temper of a Wife.

Full on the Fair his Beams Apollo flung, And fond Perswalion tip'd her easy Tongue; He gave her Words, where oily Flatt’ry lays The pleasing Colours of the Art of Praise ; And Wit, to Scandal exquisitely prone, Which frets another's Spleen to cure its own.

Those sacred Virgins whom the Bards revere, Tun'd all her Voice, and shed a Sweetness there,

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To make her Sense with double Charms abound, Or make her lively Nonsense please by Sound.

To dress the Maid, the decent Graces brought A Robe in all the Dies of Beauty wrought, And plac'd their Boxes o’er a rich Brocade Where pictur'd Loves on ev'ry cover play'd ; Then spread those Implements that Vulcan's Art Had fram'd to merit Cytherea's Heart; The Wire to curl, the close-indented Comb To call the Locks that lightly wander, home; And chief, the Mirrour, where the ravilh'd Maid Beholds and loves her own reflected Shade.

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Fair Flora lent her Stores, the purpled Hours Confin'd her Tresses with a Wreath of Flow'rs; Within the Wreath arose a radiant Crown; A Veil pellucid hung depending down;

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Back rolld her azure Veil with Serpent fold,
The purfled Border deck'd the Floor with Gold.
Her Robe (which closely by the Girdle brac't
Reveal'd the Beauties of a slender Waste)
Flow'd to the Feet; to copy Venus' Air,
When Venus' Statues have a Robe to wear.

Thenew-sprung Creature finish'd thus for Harms, Adjusts her Habit, practises her Charms, With Blushes glows, or shines with lively Smiles, Confirms her Will, or recollects her Wiles : Then conscious of her Worth, with easy Pace Glides by the Glass, and turning views her Face.

A finer Flax than what they wrought before, Thro’Time's deep Cave the Sister Fates explore, Then fix the Loom, their Fingers nimbly weave, And thus their Toil prophetick Songs deceive.

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Flow from the Rock, my Flax! and swiftly flow, Pursue thy Thread; the Spindle runs below. A Creature fond and changing, fair and vain, The Creature Woman, rises now to reign. New Beauty blooms, a Beauty form’d to fly; New Love begins, a Love produc'd to dye ; New Parts distress the troubled Scenes of Life, The fondling Mistress, and the ruling Wife.

Men, born to Labour, all with Pains provide ; Women have Time, to sacrifice to Pride : They want the Care of Man, their Want they know, And dress to please with heart-alluring Show, The Show prevailing, for the Sway contend, And make a Servant where they meet a Friend.

Thus in a thousand wax-erected Forts

A loytering Race the painful Bee supports,

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From Sun to Sun, from Bank to Bank he flies,
With Honey loads his Bag, with Wax his Thighs,
Fly where he will, at home the Race remain,
Prune the silk Dress, and murm'ring eat the Gain.

Yet here and there we grant a gentle Bride,
Whose Temper betters by the Father's side ;
Unlike the rest that double human Care,
Fond to relieve, or refolute to share :
Happy the Man whom thus his Stars advance!
The Curse is gen’ral, but the Blessing Chance.

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Thus sung the Sisters, while the Gods admire
Their beauteous Creature, made for Man in Ire;
The young Pandora she, whom all contend
To make too perfect not to gain her End:
Then bid the Winds that fly to breathe the Spring,
Return to bear her on a gentle Wing;

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