CLarinda, with a haughty Grace,
In scornful Postures sets her Face,
And looks as she were born alone
To give us Love, and take from none

Tho' I adore to that degree,
Clarinda, I wou'd die for thee,
If you're too proud to ease my Pain,
I am too proud for your Disdain.

CLeöra has her Wish, she weds a Peer,
Her weighty Train two Pages scarce can bear,
Persia and both the Indies must provide
To grace her Pomp, and gratifie her Pride;
Of rich Brocard a shining Robe she wears,
And Gems surround her lovely Neck, like Stars.
Drawn by six Greys of the proud Belgian kind,
With a long Train of Livery Beaus behind,
She charms the Park, and sets all Hearts on Fire,
The Ladies Envy, and the Mens Desire.