BANISH my Lydia these sad Thoughts,
Why sets thou musing so;
To hear the Ugly rail at faults,
They wou'd, they wou'd, but cannot do:
For let the Guilt be what it will.
So small, so small Account they bear;
That none yet thought it worth their while,
On such, on such to be severe,
On such, on such to be severe.
With far more reason thou may'st pine,