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Dear, skilful Betty, who dost far excel
My lady's other maids in dressing well;
Dear Betty, fit to be preferred above
To Juno's chamber, or the queen of love;
Genteel, well-bred, not rustically coy,
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Not easy to deny desired joy;
Thro' whose soft eyes still secret wishes shine,
Fit for thy mistress' use, but more for mine;
Who, Betty, did the fatal secret see?
Who told Corinna you were kind to me!
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Yet when she chid me for my kind embrace,
Did any guilty blush spread o'er my face!
Did I betray thee, maid, or could she spy
The least confession in my conscious eye !
Not that I think it a disgrace to prove
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Stol'n sweets, or make a chambermaid my love;
Achilles wanton'd in Briseis' arms,
Atrides bow'd to fair Cassandra's charms:
Sure I am less than these,-then what can bring
Disgrace to me, that so became a king !
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