Wou'd smiling  lay that Hoop aside,
'Twou'd snow her Prudence, not betray her Pride:
She, like the rest, had once her flagrant Day,
But now she twinkles in a fainter Ray.
Those youthful Airs set off their Mistress now,
Just as the Patch adorns her Autumn Brow:
In vain her Feet in sparkling Laces glow,
Since none regard her Forehead, nor her Toe.
Who would not burst with Laughter, or with Spleen,
At  once a Beauty, as I ween?
But now her Features wear a dusky Hue,
The little Loves have bid her Eyes adieu:
Yet she pursues the Pleasures of her Prime,
And vain Desires, not subdu'd by Time;
Thrusts in amongst the Frolick and the Gay,
But shuts her Daughter from the Beams of Day:
The Child, she says, is indolent and grave,
And tells the World  can't behave:
But while  is forbid the Room,
Her Mother hobbles in a Rigadoon;
Or to the Sound of melting Musick dies,
And in their Sockets rolls her blinking Eyes;
Or stuns the Audience with her hideous Squal,
While Scorn and Satire whisper through the Hall.