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Unlike that aged Teian boaster
 * And those who ape his senile lies,

I cannot show a monstrous roster
 * Of ladies captive to my eyes.

Yet five or six I might discover
 * (Did grateful prudence not restrain)

Who felt a pleasure-giving lover
 * Should not be cut, but come again.

If this were ill, may they forgive me;
 * They never seemed to take alarm;

Whate'er John Wesley says, believe me,
 * Women know best what does them harm.

Euphemia studies law, Aminta
 * Inspects the ailments of the poor,

Eudocia prays and Araminta
 * Numbers the stars on heaven's floor;

Yet Chloe for my mistress I decree Whose only art is artless love of me.

'Tis not the statute binds together,
 * Physic ignores the wounds we share,

Love works in dull or starry weather
 * And nakedness suits not with prayer;

Then let your learning, Chloe, still consist In all the various ways of being kist.