Next rattling Dice invite th' attentive Ear, Lords loudly laugh, as loud the Bullies swear: The Country Knight o'th' Shire sells his Estate, And here with Heart intrepid meets his Fate; So they withdrew to quench their glowing Flame, And to preserve the Honour of her Name; For oh! sad Fate as they ascend the Stairs, At the Room Door her good _Mamma_ appears, Soon as she spies her Child with Looks demure, She charges her to keep her _Vessel pure_: Miss pertly answers to avoid her Doom, _Mamma_, whose Hat and Wig is in the Room? The good old Dame yeilds at the just Reproach, Cries--_Well my Dear, don't take too much!_ Thus various Joys soon waste the fleeting Night, And Sleep and Lust the Croud to Bed invite; Some in their Truckle-Beds to snore all Day, Others in Gambols with their Wh----es to play; The Dunghill Trapes, trickt up like virtuous Trull, If by good Chance, she gets a _Dupe_ or Cull; On Tallyman intrudes twelve Hours more, And for a clean Shift presumes to run a Score. Sages may say, that Arts and Science fail, And Ignorance and Folly have weigh'd down the Scale: In _England_ they have given new Arts a Rise, And what in Science wants, increase in Vice, And to be great as Angels when they fell, (If not exceed) at _least_ they equal _Hell_. _FINIS._ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ladies Delight, by Anonymous