LADIES, fly from love's smooth tale, Oaths steep'd in tears do oft prevail; Grief is infectious, and the air Inflam'd with sighs will blast the fair. Then stop your ears when lovers cry, Lest yourselves weep when no soft eye Shall with a sorrowing tear repay That pity which you cast away. Young men, fly when beauty darts Amorous glances at your hearts: The fix'd mark gives the shooter aim, And ladies' looks have power to maim; Now 'twixt their lips, now in their eyes, Wrapt in a smile or kiss, love lies: Then fly betimes, for only they Conquer love that run away. |