Drooping they seek your pity to excite,
But ’tis at once their nature and delight;
Such women feel not; while they sigh and weep,
’Tis but their habit - their affections sleep;
They are like ice that in the hand we hold,
So very melting, yet so very cold;
On such affection let not man rely,
The husbands suffer, and the ladies sigh:
But your friend’s offer let us kindly take,
And spare his pride for his vexation’s sake;