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Thomas Nehemiah Briggs, You write as though most strangely vexed, But I am at a loss to know With what offences I am taxed: "I smiled, but you were unbeguiled"— But where's the snare a smile discovers? Upon a man a maid may smile Surely, although they are not lovers?

Thomas Nehemiah Briggs, Your own conceit led you astray, You twisted civil words I said To sweet ones such as lovers say: What you would hide I soon espied, Your snobbishness and self-conceit, Your foolish vanity and pride— And treated you as it was meet.

Thomas Nehemiah Briggs, A woman loves a man although He may be but of humble birth, But you—tut, tut, too well I know