I do confess thou'rt sweet, yet find
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,
Thy favours are but like the wind,

That kisses everything it meets,

And since thou canst with more than one,
Thou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none.

The morning rose, that untouch'd stands,

Arm'd with her briers, how sweetly smells !
But pluck'd and strain'd through ruder hands,
Her sweets no longer with her dwells;
But scent and beauty both are gone,
And leaves fall from her, one by one.

Such fate, ere long, will thee betide,
When thou hast handled been awhile,
Like sere flowers to be thrown aside ;

And I will sigh, while some will smile,

To see thy love for more than one

Hath brought thee to be loved by none.

Sir R. Ayton.

My dear mistress has a heart

Soft as those kind looks she gave me,

When with love's resistless art,

And her eyes, she did enslave me;

But her constancy's so weak,

She's so wild and apt to wander,

That my jealous heart would break,
Should we live one day asunder.

Rochester.

Women can less easily surmount their coquetry than

their passions.

La Rochefoucauld.

Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair;

Her brow shades frown, although her eyes are sunny ; Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair; And her disdains are gall, her favours honey.

Daniel.

O! they love least who let men know their love.

Shakespeare.

Coquetry in Dress Allowable.

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.

Her Coquetry Cured.

Would you teach her to love?

For a time seem to rove;

At first she may frown in a pet;

Parnell.

But leave her awhile,

She shortly will smile,

And then you may win your coquette.

Byron.

I know a maiden, fair to see ;
Take care!

She can both false and friendly be;
Beware!

Trust her not, she is fooling thee.

She has two eyes, so soft and brown;
Take care!

She gives a side-glance, and looks down ;
Beware!

Trust her not, she is fooling thee.

She gives thee a garland woven fair;
Take care!

It is a fool's cap, for thee to wear;
Beware!

Trust her not, she is fooling thee.

Longfellow.

Friendly Counsel to.

The counsels of a friend, Belinda, hear,
Too roughly kind to please a lady's ear,
Unlike the flatteries of a lover's pen,

Such truths as women seldom learn from men.
Nor think I praise you ill when thus I show
What female vanity might fear to know:
Some merit's mine to dare to be sincere ;
But greater yours sincerity to bear.
Hard is the fortune that your sex attends;
Women, like princes, find few real friends :

All who approach them their own ends pursue;
Lovers and ministers are seldom true.

Hence oft from Reason heedless Beauty strays,
And the most trusted guide the most betrays;
Hence, by fond dreams of fancied power amused,
When most you tyrannize, you're most abused.
What is your sex's earliest, latest care,
Your heart's supreme ambition ?-To be fair.
For this, the toilet every thought employs,
Hence all the toils of dress, and all the joys:
For this, hands, lips, and eyes are put to school,
And each instructed feature has its rule:
And yet how few have learnt, when this is given,
Not to disgrace the partial boon of Heaven!
How few with all their pride of form can move!
How few are lovely, that are made for love!
Do you, my fair, endeavour to possess
An elegance of mind, as well as dress;
Be that your ornament, and know to please
By graceful Nature's unaffected ease.
Nor make to dangerous wit a vain pretence,
But wisely rest content with modest sense;
For wit, like wine, intoxicates the brain,
Too strong for feeble woman to sustain :

Of those who claim it, more than half have none;
And half of those who have it are undone.

Be still superior to your sex's arts,
Nor think dishonesty a proof of parts:
For you, the plainest is the wisest rule:
A cunning woman is a knavish fool.
Be good yourself, nor think another's shame

Can raise your merit or adorn your fame.

Virtue is amiable, mild, serene;

Without all beauty, and all peace within.

Lyttelton.

Most at Home in Country Life.

Dear child of Nature, let them rail !

There is a nest in a green dale,

A harbour and a hold,

Where thou, a wife and friend, shalt see
Thy own delightful days, and be

A light to young and old.

There, healthy as a shepherd-boy,
As if thy heritage were joy,

And pleasure were thy trade;

Thou, while thy babies round thee cling,

Shalt show us how divine a thing

A woman may be made.

Wordsworth.

Her Dauntless Courage.

She sought her lord, and found him where he stood About the hall, among his dogs, alone. * *

She told him of their tears,

And pray'd him, "If they pay this tax, they starve.” Whereat he stared, replying, half amazed,

"You would not let your little finger ache

For such as these." "But I would die," said she.

He laugh'd, and swore by Peter and by Paul,