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 Madam, although so long you've lived, So long all youthful charms survived, So long with eats and lap-dogs too, Have toyed, as maiden ladies do, I've sent this Valentine to say, You still may be entrapped some day. That crow, prophetic, tells you so, And Cupid there has bent his bow; His arrow keen is aimed at you, His purpose you may guess. Adieu!

Love is a little urchin sly, Surely his tutor was Paul Pry, He will drop in—in vain he's chidden, He will not go—though oft he's bidden,