---------What woman, when Her blood boils up, and wantons in her veins, When her hot panting pulse beats to the joy; What woman then would quench her generous flame in an inactive tedious husband's arms, That fires and jades our expectation In the first stretch of love; then duly falls To his old trot, and drudges out the course? Altho' we cannot assert that this lady is actually married, we can with truth venture to affirm there are many that have entered the matrimonial circle, that does not possess the same degree of constancy for their husbands, as this lady does for her generous keeper. He is to be sure an Hibernian gentleman and a captain, two powerful inducements, or rather compellers, to her keeping within ( 127 ) within bounds; the first being generally passionate and cruel when irritated, and the profession of the latter is, we must imagine, a powerful bar. But still she is not impregnable, and where a gentle- man (for that he must be) possesses the proper means, there is not much doubt of his success; flattery is a bait that few females can withstand, let every word and action be well cloathed in her richest garb; this incense must be of- fer'd at the shrine with pains, perseverance, honour, secrecy, and liberality join- ed with it, and when she is thoroughly convinced that you possess all these re- quisites, she will unfold her _haven_ of delight, and put you in possession of such charms that would not disgrace a monarch's couch; her tell-tale lascivious eye acts as a charming index to that un- quenchable flame that fills the whole frame, and swallows up the other senses; she is rather short, but admirably well made, and when once convinced of the _honour_ and parts of her paramour, gives such a loose to her unbounded appetite, that very few of the Cyprian choir can match her. Miss ( 128 ) Miss H--ll--n, No. 2, _Glanville-street_. Oh she is all the heart would wish, or eye admire, The purest child of love by beauty fir'd; Whom but to love, need only but to see, To see, admire, such heaven born symmetry; To touch, to feel, ah, there's the potent hold That chains the will, and molds the snowy heart To love's delightful glow; the milky hills Half rising, half suppress'd, with glowing ardor Ask corporeal pressure, and invite The _carnal weapon_ to its burning sheath.