But with my smiles seem’d easy.
But Chloe mark’d, that new made toast,
By other flirts surrounded,
Poor Celia now her charms had lost,
Which in last cent’ry wounded.
A whisper then and laugh went round,
Such scoffing I endured,
Nor did Philander heed my frown,
But by the jest was cured.
An easy passage through the crowd