I.

When a tourist describes her, each female expects
That some charm he'll extract from her downright defects;
In her squint a soft languish can sure be discerned,
And her leg, though of wood, may be mighty well turned.

II.

Should her visage exhibit too much of the rose,
Praise the bloom in her cheek and stop short at her nose;
And if ladies have noses like aces of clubs,
Call them arch-looking angels, but don't talk of snubs.

III.

Of a charmer whose teeth absentees we may style,
Say how sweetly she purses her lips in a smile;
And when her red locks into ringlets she twirls,
Not a word of her carrots, but cry up her curls.

IV.

In your book let the virtuous fair of each nation
Be printed with notes of deserved admiration;
While they whose faux pas furnish scandal with data,
Need only be mentioned among the errata .