The Wise will seldom credit all they hear,
Tho' saucy Wits shou'd tell them with a Sneer,
That Womens Friendships, like a certain Fly,
Are hatch'd i'th Morning and at Ev'ning die.
'Tis true, our Sex has been from early Time
A constant Topick for Satirick Rhyme:
Nor without Reason — since we're often found,
Or lost in Passion, or in Pleasures drown'd:
And the fierce Winds that bid the Ocean roll,
Are less inconstant than a Woman's Soul:
Yet some there are who keep the mod'rate Way,
Can think an Hour, and be calm a Day:
Who ne'er were known to start into a Flame,
Turn Pale or tremble at a losing Game.
Run  Shape or  Features down,
Or change Complexion at  Gown:
But still serene, compassionate and kind,
Walk through Life's Circuit with an equal Mind.