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Who in the garden, with his lovely May,
Sung merrier than the cuckow or the jay:
This was his fong; "Oh kind and conftant be,
"Conftant and kind I'll ever prove to thee."

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Thus finging as he went, at laft he drew,
By eafy steps to where the pear-tree grew:
The longing dame look'd up, and spy'd her love
Full fairly perch'd among the boughs above.
She ftopp'd, and fighing; Oh good Gods! fhe cry'd,
What pangs, what fudden fhoots diftend my fide;
O for that tempting fruit, fo fresh, so green;
Help, for the love of Heav'n's immortal Queen;
Help, dearest Lord, and fave at once the life
Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!

Sore figh'd the Knight to hear his lady's cry,
But could not climb, and had no fervant nigh:
Old as he was, and void of eye-fight too,
What could, alas! a helplefs husband do?
And muft I languifh then, fhe faid, and die,
Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?
-At least, kind Sir, for Charity's sweet fake,
Vouchfafe the trunk between your arms to take;
Then from your back I might afcend the tree :
Do you but stoop, and leave the reft to me.

With all my foul, he thus reply'd again!
I'd spend my deareft blood to ease thy pain.
With that his back against the trunk he bent!
She feiz'd a twig, and up the tree she went.

Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all!
Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:
'Tis truth I tell, tho' not in phrase refin'd;
Tho' blunt my tale, yet honeft is my mind.
What feats the lady in the tree might do,
I país, as gambols never known to you;
But fure it was a merrier fit, fhe wore,
Than in her life the ever felt before.

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In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring Knight

Look d out, and ftood reftor'd to fudden fight.

Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent,

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As one whofe thoughts were on his fpoufe intent;

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But when he faw his bofom-wife fo drefs'd, His rage was fuch as cannot be exprefs'd: Not frantic mothers when their infants die, With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: He cry'd, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his hair; Death! hell! and furies! what doft thou do there? What ails my Lord ?. the trembling dame reply'd; I thought your patience had been better try'd: Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind, This my reward for having cur'd the blind ? Why was I taught to make my husband see, By fruggling with a man upon a tree? Did I for this the pow'r of magic prove? Unhappy wife, whofe crime was too much love! If this be struggling, by this holy light,

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'Tis ftruggling with a vengeance (quoth the Knight ;)
So Heav'n preferve the fight it has restor❜d,
As with these eyes I plainly faw thee whor'd;

Whor'd by my flave---perfidious wretch! may Hell
As furely feize thee, as I faw too well.

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Guard me, good Angels! cry'd the gentle May;
Pray Heav'n this magic work the proper way!
Alas, my
love! 'tis certain, could you fee,
You ne'er had us'd thefe killing words to me:
So help me, Fates! as 'tis no perfect sight,
But fome faint glimm'ring of a doubtful light.
What I have faid (quoth he) I must maintain,
For by th' immortal Powr's it feem'd too plain---
By all thofe Pow'rs, fome frenzy feiz'd your
mind,

(Reply'd the dame :) are these the thanks Ifind?
Wretch that I am, that e'er I was fo kind!
She faid, a rifing figh exprefs'd her woe;

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The ready tears apace began to flow,

And as they fell the wip'd from either eye

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The drops; (for women, when they lift, can cry.)

The Knight was touch'd; and in his looks appear'd Signs of remorfe, while thus his fpoufe he cheer'd: . Madam, 'tis paft, and my fhort anger o'er! Come down, and vex your tender heart no more: 790 Excufe

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Excufe me, dear, if aught amifs was faid,
For, on my foul, amends fhall foon be made:
Let my repentance your forgiveness draw;
By Heav'n, I fwore but what I thought I faw.
Ah, my lov'd Lord! 'twas much unkind (the cry'd)
On bare fufpicion thus to treat your bride.
But till your fight's establish'd, for a while,
Imperfect objects may your fenfe beguile.
Thus, when from fleep we firft our eyes display,
The balls are wounded with the piercing ray,
And dufky vapours rife, and intercept the day:
So juft recov'ring from the fhades of night,
Your fwimming eyes are drunk with fudden light,
Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before
your fight.

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Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rafhly deem;
Heav'n knows how feldom things are what they feem!
Confult your reafon, and you foon fhall find
'Twas you were jealous, not your wife unkind:
Jove ne'er fpoke oracle more true than this;
None judge fo wrong as those who think amifs.
With that the leap'd into her lord's embrace,
With well-diffembled virtue in her face.

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He hugg'd her clofe, and kifs'd her o'er and o'er,
Disturb'd with doubts and jealoufies no more:
Both, pleas'd and bleis'd, renew'd their mutual vows,

A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.

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Thus ends our Tale, whofe moral next to make,

Let all wife hufbands hence example take;

And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives,
To be fo well deluded by their wives.

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HER PROLOGUE. FROM CHAUCER.

BEHOLD the woes of matrimonial life,

And hear with rev'rence an experienc'd wife
To dear-bought wildom give the credit due,
And think for once a woman tells you true.
In all thefe trials I have borne a part;
I was myself the fcourge that caus'd the smart;
For fince fifteen in triumph have I led
Five captive husbands from the church to bed.
Chrift faw a wedding once, the Scripture fays,
And faw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days;
Whence fome infer, whofe confcience is too nice,
No pious Chriftian ought to marry twice.

But let them read, and folve me, if they can,
The words addrefs'd to the Samaritan;
Five times in lawful wedlock fhe was join'd;
And fure the certain ftint was ne'er defin'd.

"Increase and multiply" was Heav'n's command, And that's a text I clearly understand.

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This too, "Let men their fires and mothers leave,
"And to their dearer wives for ever cleave."
More wives than one by Solomon were try'd,
Or else the wifeft of mankind's bely'd.
I've had myself full many a merry fit,
And truft in Heav'n I may have many yet;
For when my tranfitory fpoufe, unkind,
Shall die, and leave his woful wife behind,
I'll take the next good Christian I can find.
Paul, knowing one could never ferve our turn,
Declar'd 'twas better far to wed than burn.
There's danger in affembling fire and tow;
grant them that; and what it means you know.
The fame apoftle, too, has elfewhere own'd,
No precept for virginity he found :

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'Tis but a counfel--and we women still
Take which we like, the counfel or our will.
I envy not their blifs, if he or she

Think fit to live in perfe& chastity:

Pure let them be, and free from taint of vice;
I for a few flight spots am not so nice.

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Heav'n calls us diff'rent ways; on these bestows
One proper gift, another grants to those :
Not ev'ry man's oblig'd to fell his store,
And give up all his fubftance to the poor :
Such as are perfect may, I can't deny;
But by your leaves, Divines! fo am not I.

Full many a faint, fince firft the world began,
Liv'd an unipotted maid in spite of man:
Let fuch (a God's name) with fine wheat be fed,
And let us honeft wives eat barley bread.
For me, I'll keep the poft affign'd by Heav'n,
And use the copious talent it has giv’n :
Let my good ipoufe pay tribute, do me right,
And keep an equal reck'ning ev'ry night:
His proper body is not his but mine;
For fo faid Paul, and Paul's a foul divine.

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Know then, of thofe five hufbands I have had,
Three were just tolerable, two were bad.
The three were old, but rich, and fond befide,
And toil'd moft piteously to please their bride;
But fince their wealth (the best they had) was mine,
The reft without much lofs I could refign:
Sure to be lov'd I took no pains to please,
Yet had more pleasure far than they had eafe.

Presents flow'd in apace: with fhow'rs of gold
They made their court, like Jupiter of old:
If I but fmil'd a fudden youth they found,.
And a new palfy feiz'd them when I frown'd.

Ye fov reign Wives! give ear, and understand,
Thus fhall ye fpeak, and exercife command;
For never was it giv'n to mortal man
To lie fo boldly as we women can;
Forfwear the fact, tho' feen with both his eyes,
And call your maids to witness how he lies."

Hark, old Sir Paul! ('twas thus I us❜d to fay,)
Whence is our neighbour's wife fo rich and gay ?
Treated, carefs'd, where'er fhe's pleas'd to roam-
I fit in tatters, and immur'd at home.
Why to her house doft thou so oft' repair?
Art thou fo am'rous? and is the fo fair?

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