To---
Oh! well I know your subtle Sex, Frail daughters of the wanton Eve,-- While jealous pangs our Souls perplex, No passion prompts you to relieve....
This is a poetry & verse.
Oh! well I know your subtle Sex, Frail daughters of the wanton Eve,-- While jealous pangs our Souls perplex, No passion prompts you to relieve. From Love, or Pity ne'er you fall, By _you_, no mutual Flame is felt, "Tis Vanity, which rules you all, Desire alone which makes you melt. I will not say no _souls_ are yours, Aye, ye have Souls, and dark ones too, Souls to contrive those smiling lures, To snare our simple hearts for you.…
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