On hope’s fair prospects, and be kind and well,
And ever choose the fondest, tenderest style.”
She answer’d, “No,” but answer’d with a smile.
“And now, my Judith, at so sad a time,
Forgive my fear, and call it not my crime;
When with our youthful neighbours ’tis thy chance
To meet in walks, the visit, or the dance,
When every lad would on my lass attend,
Choose not a smooth designer for a friend:
That fawning Philip! - nay, be not severe,