Sparing, not pinching, mindful though not mean,
O'er all presiding, yet in nothing seen.
Recorded next, a babe of love I trace,
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Of many loves the mother's fresh disgrace.—
"Again, thou harlot! could not all thy pain,
All my reproof, thy wanton thoughts restrain?"
"Alas! your reverence, wanton thoughts, I grant,
Were once my motive, now the thoughts of want;
Women, like me, as ducks in a decoy,