A wit, by learning well refined,
A beau, but of the rural kind,
To Sylvia made pretences;
They both profess'd an equal love,
Yet hoped by different means to move
Her judgement of her senses.
Young sprightly Flirt, of blooming mien,
Watch'd the best minutes to be seen,
Went - when his glass advised him;
While meagre Phil of brooks inquired,
A wight for wit and and parts admired
And witty ladies prized him.
Sylvia had wit, had spirits too;
To hear the one, the other view,
Suspended held the scales;
Her wit, her youth too, claim'd its share:
Let none the preference declare,
But turn up - heads or tails.
