|A Group of Figures, c. 1750, Lewis Walpole Library (Yale University)|
Lady, the Magazine of all rich Treasure is contained in your Perfections.
Lover, Lady, Those Divine Beams proceeding from your Eyes, are able to thaw the frozen Earth without another Sun.
Your Voice is such a one, that should the Holy Churchmen use it, it would without the Addition of more Exorcisms, disinchant Houses, and tie up the Night Ghosts that haunt the solitary Groves.
Turn back your Comet Eyes, or I shall perish in the Flames.
Her Forehead is a goodly Prospect, that shows like a Castle commanding some goodly Country.
Her Breasts are two Mountains of Snow, from the two Fountains of which Cupid himself sucks Nectar.
What woman doesn't secretly want to hear that her voice could drive ghosts from a house and her forehead looks like the headquarters of a provincial government?
More inspiration: How to Compliment a Lady, 1663