YE Cyprian nymphs to profit turn my tale; The god of LOVE, within his vot'ries pale, Has many, if their sentiments were known, That I'd prefer for Hymen's joys alone. My wife, not always to the spindle true, Will many things in life, not seem to view; By Constance and her conduct you may see How, with this theory, her acts agree; She proved the truth of what I here advance, And reaped the fruits produced by complaisance, A horde of nuns I know who, ev'ry night, Would such adventures wage with fond delight. PERHAPS it will not be with ease believed, That Constance from Camillus now received, A proof of LOVE'S enchanting balmy sweet, A proof perhaps you'll think her used to meet; But ne'er till then she tasted pleasures pure; Her former life no blisses could secure. You ask the cause, and signs of doubt betray: Who TRULY loves, the same will ever say. NICAISE TO serve the shop as 'prentice was the lot; Of one who had the name of Nicaise got; A lad quite ignorant beyond his trade, And what arithmetick might lend him aid; A perfect novice in the wily art, That in amours is used to win the heart. Good tradesmen formerly were late to learn The tricks that soon in friars we discern; They ne'er were known those lessons to begin, Till more than down appeared upon the chin. But now-a-days, in practice, 'tis confessed, These shopkeepers are knowing as the best.