But now the Vizard's off, She's chang'd her Scene,
And turns a Modest, Civil Girl agen;
Let some admire the Fops whose Talent lie
Inventing dull, insipid Blasphemy;
I swear I cannot with those Terms dispence,
Nor won't be Damn'd for the Repute of Sense;
I cou'd be Bawdy much, and nick the Times,
In what they dearly Love; damn'd Placket Rhimes;
But that such Naus'ous Lines can reach no higher
Than what the Cod-Piece or Buffoons inspire.

To noble Satyr, I'll direct my Aim,
And bite Mankind, and Poetry Reclaim;
I'll ever use my Wit another Way,
And next the Ugliness of Vice display.

_Yours, &c._




THE

FIFTEEN P----s

OF A

VIRGIN.