A Fragment

Nay, deem me not insensible, Cesario, To female charms; nor think this heart of mine Is cas'd in adamant; because, forsooth, I cannot ogle, and hyperbolize, And whisper tender nothings in the ear Of ev'ry would-be beauty, holding out The bright but treacherous flame of flattery, To watch the she-moths of a drawing room Sport round the beam, and burn their pretty wings, Ere conscious of their danger: yet, believe me, I love a maid whose untranscended form Is yet less lovely than her spotless mind. With modest frankness, unaffected genius, Unchang'd good humour, beauty void of art, And polish'd wit that seeks not to offend, And winning smiles that seek not to betray, She charms the sight, and fascinates the soul. Where dwells this matchless nymph? alas, Cesario, 'Tis but a sickly creature of my fancy, Unparallel'd in nature.