An Acrostic

Pray tell me, says Venus, one day to the Graces,
(On a visit they came, and had just ta'en their places)
Let me know why of late I can ne'er see your faces:
Ladies, nothing, I hope, happen'd here to affright ye:
You've had compliment cards every day to invite ye.
Says Cupid, who guess'd their rebellious proceeding,
"Underhand, dear mamma, there's some mischief a-breeding:
"There's a fair one at Lincoln, so finish'd a beauty,
"That your loves and your graces all swerve from "their duty."
On my life, says dame Venus, I'll not be thus put on,
Now I think on't, last night, some one call'd me Miss Sutton.