But pass’d the pleasant hours at gay Quadrille:
Lame in her side, we plac’d her in her seat,
Her hands were free, she cared not for her feet;
As the game ended, came the glass around
(So was the loser cheer’d, the winner crown’d).
Mistress of secrets, both the young and old
In her confided - not a tale she told;
Love never made impression on her mind,
She held him weak, and all his captives blind;
She suffer’d no man her free soul to vex,