A beauteous gamestress in the queen of hearts.
The cards are dealt, the fatal pool is lost,
And all her golden hopes forever crossed.
Yet still this card—devoted fair I view—
Whate’er her luck, to “honor” ever true.
So tender there—if debts crowd fast upon her
She’ll pawn her “virtue” to preserve her “honor.”
Thrice happy were my art, could I foretell
Cards would be abjured by every belle!
Yet, I pronounce who cherish still the vice,