"O wretched maid!" she spread her hands, and cried, 95 (While Hampton's echoes, "Wretched maid!" replied) "Was it for this you took such constant care The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare? For this your locks in paper durance bound? For this with tort'ring irons wreathed around? 100 For this with fillets strained your tender head, And bravely bore the double loads of lead?[477] Gods! shall the ravisher display your hair, While the fops envy, and the ladies stare! Honour forbid! at whose unrivalled shrine 105 Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign.[478] Methinks already I your tears survey, Already hear the horrid things they say, Already see you a degraded toast, And all your honour in a whisper lost! 110 How shall I, then, your helpless fame defend? 'Twill then be infamy to seem your friend! And shall this prize, th' inestimable prize, Exposed through crystal to the gazing eyes, And heightened by the diamond's circling rays, 115 On that rapacious hand for ever blaze? Sooner shall grass in Hyde-Park Circus grow,[479] And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow; Sooner let earth, air, sea, to chaos fall, Men, monkeys, lap-dogs, parrots, perish all!" 120 She said; then raging to Sir Plume[480] repairs, And bids her beau demand the precious hairs: (Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane)[481] With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face, 125 He first the snuff-box opened, then the case, And thus broke out--"My Lord, why, what the devil! Zounds! damn the lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil. Plague on't! 'tis past a jest--nay prithee, pox! Give her the hair"--he spoke, and rapped his box. 130 "It grieves me much," replied the peer again, "Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain, But by this lock, this sacred lock I swear,[482] (Which never more shall join its parted hair; Which never more its honours shall renew, 135 Clipped from the lovely head where late it grew) That while my nostrils draw the vital air,[483] This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear." He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph spread The long-contended honours of her head.[484] 140 But Umbriel, hateful gnome! forbears not so; He breaks the phial whence the sorrows flow.[485] Then see! the nymph in beauteous grief appears, Her eyes half languishing, half drowned in tears; On her heaved bosom hung her drooping head, 145 Which, with a sigh, she raised; and thus she said. "For ever cursed be this detested day, Which snatched my best, my fav'rite curl away!