Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/130

 He knew not how to reconcile Such language with her usual style: And yet her words were so exprest, He could not hope she spoke in jest. His thought had wholly been confin'd To form and cultivate her mind. He hardly knew, till he was told, Whether the nymph were young or old; Had met her in a publick place, Without distinguishing her face: Much less could his declining age Vanessa's earliest thoughts engage; And, if her youth indifference met, His person must contempt beget: Or, grant her passion be sincere, How shall his innocence be clear? Appearances were all so strong, The world must think him in the wrong: Would say, he made a treacherous use Of wit, to flatter and seduce: The town would swear, he had betray'd By magick spells the harmless maid: And every beau would have his jokes, That scholars were like other folks; And, when Platonick flights were over, The tutor turn'd a mortal lover! So tender of the young and fair! It show'd a true paternal care — Five thousand guineas in her purse! The doctor might have fancy'd worse.— Hardly at length he silence broke, And falter'd every word he spoke; Interpreting her complaisance, Just as a man sans consequence, She