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Dear Caffy, thou maft purge and bleed;
I fear thou wilt be mad indeed.
But now by friendship's sacred laws
I here conjure thee, tell the cause;
And Cælia's horrid fact relate :
Thy friend would gladly share thy fate.

To force it out my heart must rend ;
Yet when conjur'd by such a friend
Think, Peter, how my soul is rackt!
These eyes, these eyes beheld the fact.
Now bend thine ear, fince out it muft ;
But when thou seeft me laid in dust,
The secret thou shalt ne'er impart,
Not to the nymph that keeps thy heart ;
(How would her virgin foul bemoan
A crime to all her sex unknown !);
Nor whisper to the tattling reeds
The blackest of all female deeds:
Nor blab it on the lonely rocks,
Where Echo fits, and lift'ning mocks ;
Nor let the zephyrs' treach rous gale
Thro' Cambridge waft the direful tale ;
Nor to the chatt'ring feather'd race
Discover Cælia's foul disgrace.
But if you fail, my fpectre dread
Attending nightly round your bed :
And yet I dare confide in you ;
So take my secret, and adieu.

Nor wonder how I lost wits :
Oh! Cælia, Cælia, Cælia ih

105

IIO

115

my

* See the lady's dressing-room, above, p. 356. V. 118.

The End of the Sixth VOLUME.

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Dear Cally, thou must purge and bleed;
I fear thou wilt, be mad indeed.
But now by friendship's sacred laws
I here conjure thee, tell the cause;
And Cælia's horrid fact relate :
Thy friend would gladly share thy fate.

To force it out my heart must rend ;
Yet when conjur'd by such a friend
Think, Peter, how my soul is rackt!
These eyes, these eyes beheld the fact.
Now bend thine ear; fince out it must;
But when thou seeft me laid in dust,
The secret thou shalt ne'er impart,
Not to the nymph that keeps thy heart ;
(How would her virgin' soul bemoan
A crime to all her sex unknown !);
Nor whisper to the tattling reeds
The blackest of all female deeds :
Nor blab it on the lonely rocks,
Where Echo fits, and lift'ning mocks ;
Nor let the zephyrs' treach"rous gale
Thro' Cambridge waft the direful tale ;
Nor to the chatt'ring feather'd race
Discover Cælia's foul disgrace.
But if you fail, my fpectre dread
Attending nightly round your bed :

I dare confide in you ;
So take my secret, and adieu.
Nor wonder how I lost

my

wits Oh! Cælia, Cælia, Cælia sh*

105

I10

And yet

115

:

* See the lady's dressing-room, above, p. 356. V. 118.

The End of the Sixth VOLUME.

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