The pensive old, and the presuming young;
Born without privilege, in bondage bred,
Slave from the Cradle to the marriage Bed;
Slave from the hour hymeneal to the grave,
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In age, in youth, in infancy a Slave.
Happy the Bard, who, bold in pride of song
Shall free the chain, by Custom bound so long,
And show the Fair, to mean tradition prone,
Though Virtue may have sex, yet Vice has none.