MISS P GM. Or the Looking-Glass Votary

Great judge of beauty kindly hear my plea— A beauteous maid forgotten here you see; Each morn I study with a punctual care My flatt'ring mirror and the winning air: The heedless bucks scarce eye me as I pass, And yet I'm just an angel—in my glass: My Quaker cap i'll fashion to the ton, My cheeks are rosy and I still am young— I worship beauty, try each tempting tint, I know no god, my glass is god and saint, My time I pass in aiming how to please, And not like vixens that for ever teaze: To thee I bow—O hear my fervent pray'r, Proclaim me first and fairest of the fair, And while I live the great Apollo's name Shall be the constant burthen of my theme.

Apollo heard with high disdain the maid And thus in answer sharp and short he said, 'Go break your glass and by some virtuous 'book 'Set ev'ry feature and improve each look.'

Miss P—heard and slunk in dudgeon off, While wanton nymphs began anon to scoff.