Blowing Kisses, at the Play-House
No more, vain wretch! such trifling arts pursue,
These public fooleries will never do!
Love's secret flames, like lamps, shou'd bury'd lie,
The very moment they take air, they die.
Women , thro' crowds , can unfeign'd passion spy,
Skill'd, in the rhet'ric of a speaking eye:
But when, regardless of their fame, you move,
Your glare of folly blinds their eye of love .
These public fooleries will never do!
Love's secret flames, like lamps, shou'd bury'd lie,
The very moment they take air, they die.
Women , thro' crowds , can unfeign'd passion spy,
Skill'd, in the rhet'ric of a speaking eye:
But when, regardless of their fame, you move,
Your glare of folly blinds their eye of love .
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