Till both of them live but upon parole.
Virtue's no more in womankind
But the green-sickness of the mind;
Philosophy (their new delight)
A kind of charcoal appetite.
There 's no sophistry prevails
30Where all-convincing love assails,
But the disputing petticoat will warp,
As skilful gamesters are to seek at sharp.
The soldier, that man of iron,