By her made strong, by Custom rendered weak;
Whose passions, trembling for unbounded sway,
Will thank the Bard, who points the nearest way;
All Vice through Folly's regions first should pass,
And Folly holds her sceptre o'er the glass.
110
Drink then, ye Fair! and nature's laws fulfill;
Be ev'ry thing at once, and all ye will;
Put off the mask that hides the Sex's claim