Prescription for Falshood

You that have lov'd, and too soon believ'd,
You that have lov'd, and been deceiv'd,
No more complain,
For Grief is vain,
But make Musick with your Chain,
A sort of Melancholy Joy;
Nor rashly blame
The perjur'd Dame
That did your Peace destroy:
Though they the Paths to Falshood tread,
They yet but follow as they're led,
They do but as their Mothers did;
Flatter, smile, deceive, betray,
By certain Instinct go astray:
But e're since Eve,
We may perceive
'Twas those that bore 'em shew'd the way:
Then blame 'em not; but mourn with me
That Females, fair
As Angels are,
Shou'd so destructive be,
And have so old a claim to Infidelity.