But Cynthia's soul was soft, her wishes strong,
Her judgment weak, and her conclusions wrong.
The morning-call and counter were her dread,
And her contempt the needle and the thread;
But, when she read a gentle damsel's part,
Her wo, her wish—she had them all by heart.
At length the hero of the boards drew nigh,
Who spake of love till sigh re-echo'd sigh;
He told in honey'd words his deathless flame,
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