The last AMOROUS EPISTLE from JONATHAN to MOLLY

How oft in love's vast lake I've been, The water just up to my chin; Sometimes soused over head and ears, In deep despair, and drowned with fears. How oft my hand around thy waist Has slyly ventured and clung fast. What rapture on thy blooming cheek, Enough to feed my soul a week. How often have I stood aghast, While from thy eyes such arrows past. Each shower appeared to threat my last All night together have we sat, In one wide chair, and held our chat On love, on raptures, and all that. Thou know'st how oft thy hand I've squeezed, And thou hast ogled, and I teazed; Declaring in what state was I, How I must lay me down and die, And to the grave for succour fly. 'Mongst all the ills, my life that compass, There ne'er was one, that made such rumpus About my insides, as the love, Which I have had for thee, thy dove; How oft have I, my dearest dear, Declared that thou'rt an angel fair, And sworn that thou from heaven didst fly, Yet knew that it was all a lie. Say know'st thou not what I've told o'er? For thou shalt never know them more. Thou ne'er shalt catch me, no, by Jove, A dying in a fit of love. I know all thy coquettish arts, To catch and hold a hundred hearts. Long may'st thou reign; but when thy charms are past, The wealthiest fool shall take thee off at last.