Song XCI. Kitty

Kitty, think, though every Grace, Sparkles in thy charming Face, Though thy fine complexion shows, Lilies blending with the Rose, Though thy Features gaily shine, Though thy Form's almost Divine; Yet shouldst thou, (which kind Heav'n avert) With an unrelenting Heart, Cloth'd with cruel killing Airs, Laugh at all thy Lovers Prayers, Kitty now so mild, so good, Should become an arrant Prude, Peevish as three score and ten, Scorn of Virgins Jest of Men,

Think not, fair One, that your Slave, Vainly means in Verse to rave; Friendship only bids me say, Love and Beauty have their Day.