Persius, Sat. i. 116.
Horace, with sly insinuating grace,
Laugh'd at his friend, and look'd him in the face;
Would raise a blush, where secret vice he found,
And tickle while he gently prob'd the wound.
With seeming innocence the crowd beguild;
But made the desperate passes when he smil'd.
Dryden.
TO THE RAMBLER.
SIR,