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And truft me, Sir, the chafteft you can choose
Will afk obfervance, and exact her dues.
If what I fpeak my noble lord offend,
My tedious fermon here is at an end.

'Tis well, 'tis wond'rous well, the knight replies,

Moft worthy kinfman, faith you're mighty wife!
We, Sirs, are fools, and must resign the cause
To heathenish authors, proverbs, and old faws.
He spoke with fcorn, and turn'd another way :-
What does my friend, my dear Placebo say?

I fay, quoth he, by heaven the man's to blame,
To flander wives, and wedlock's holy name.
At this the council rofe, without delay;
Each, in his own opinion, went his way;
With full confent, that, all difputes appeas'd,
The knight fhould marry, when and where he
pleas'd.

Who now but January exults with joy? The charms of wedlock all his foul employ; Each nymph by turns his wavering mind poffeft, And reign'd the short-liv'd tyrant of his breast; While fancy pictur'd every lively part, And each bright image wander'd o'er his heart. Thus, in fome public forum fix'd on high, A mirror fhews the figures moving by; Still one by one, in fwift fucceflion, pafs The gliding fhadows o'er the polish'd glass. This lady's charms the niceft could not blame. But vile fufpicions had afpers'd her fame; That was with fenfe, but not with virtue bleft; And one had grace that wanted all the rest. Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey, He fix'd at last upon the youthful May. Her faults he knew not, Love is always blind, But every charm revolv'd within his mind: Her tender age, her form divinely fair, Her eafy motion, her attractive air, Her fweet behaviour, her enchanting face, Her moving softness, and majestic grace.

Much in his prudence did our knight rejoice, And thought no mortal could difpute his choice: Once more in hafte he summon'd every friend, And told them all, their pains were at an end. Heaven, that (faid he) infpir'd me first to wed, Provides a confort worthy of my bed: Let none oppofe th' election, fince on this Depends my quiet, and my future bliss.

A dame there is, the darling of my eyes, Young, beauteous, artlefs, innocent, and wife; Chafte, though not rich; and, though not nobly

born,

Of honest parents, and may ferve my turn.
Her will I wed, if gracious Heaven so please,
To país my age in fanctity and ease;
And thank the powers, I may poffefs alone
The lovely prize, and fhare my blifs with none !
If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,
My joys are full, my happiness is fure.

One only doubt remains: Full oft I've heard,
By cafuifts grave, and deep divines averr'd,
That 'tis too much for human race to know
The biis of heaven above, and earth below.
Now mould the muptial pleasures prove fo great,
To match the bluffings of the future fate,

Those endless joys were ill-exchang'd for thefe; Then clear this doubt, and fet my mind at ease.

}

This Juftin heard, nor could his fpleen controul, Touch'd to the quick, and tickled at the foul. Sir Knight, he cry'd, if this be all you dread, Heaven put it past your doubt, whene'er you wed; And to my fervent prayers fo far confent, That, ere the rites are o'er, you may repent! Good Heaven, no doubt, the nuptial state approves, Since it chaftifes still what beft it loves. Then be not, Sir, abandon'd to despair; Seek, and perhaps you'll find among the fair. One that may do your business to a hair; Not ev'n in with, your happiness delay, But prove the fcourge to lafh you on your way: Then to the skies your mounting soul shall go, Swift as an arrow foaring from the bow! Provided ftill you moderate your joy, Nor in your pleasures all your might employ, Let reason's rule your strong defires abate, Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate. Old wives there are, of judgment most acute, Who folve thofe queftions beyond all difpute; Confult with thofe, and be of better cheer; Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.

So faid, they rofe, nor more the work delay'd; The match was offer'd, the proposals made. The parents, you may think, would foon comply, The old have interest ever in their eye. Nor was it hard to move the lady's mind; When fortune favours, still the fair are kind.

I pafs each previous fettlement and deed, Too long for me to write, or you to read; Nor will with quaint impertinence difplay The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array. The time approach'd, to church the parties went, At once with carnal and devout intent: Forth came the priest, and bade th' obedient wife Like Sarah or Rebecca lead her life; Then pray'd the powers the fruitful bed to blefs, And made all fure enough with holiness.

And now the palace gates are open'd wide, The guests appear in order, fide by side, And plac'd in state the bridegroom and the bride, The breathing flute's foft notes are heard around, And the fhrill trumpets mix their filver found; The vaulted roofs with echoing mufic ring, These touch the vocal flops, and those the tremb

ling ftring,

Not thus Amphion tun'd the warbling lyre,
Nor Joab the founding clarion could infpire,
Nor fierce Theodamas, whofe fprightly strain
Could fwell the foul to rage, and fire the martial
train.

Bacchus himself, the nuptial feaft to grace,
(So poets fing) was prefent on the place:
And lovely Venus, goddess of delight,
Shook high her flaming torch in open fight,
And danc'd around, and fmil'd on every knight,
Pleas'd her beft fervant would his courage try,
No lefs in wedlock, than in liberty.

Full many an age old Hymen had not spy'd
So kind a bridegroom, er io bright a bride.
Ye bards. renown'd among the tuneful throng
For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial fong;

Think not your fofteft numbers can display
The matchlefs glories of this blifsful day:
The joys are fuch, as far tranfcend your rage,
When tender youth has wedded stooping age.

The beauteous dame fat fmiling at the board,
And darted amorous glances at her lord.
Not Hefter's self, whose charms the Hebrews fing,
E'er look'd fo lovely on her Perfian king:
Bright as the rifing fun in fummer's day,

And fresh and blooming as the month of May!
The joyful knight furvey'd her by his side,
Nor envy'd Paris with the Spartan bride:
Stil as his mind revolv'd with vast delight
Th' entrancing raptures of th' approaching night
Reflefs he fat, invoking every power
To fpeed his blifs, and hafte the happy hour.
Meantime the vigorous dancers beat the ground,
And fongs were fung, and flowing bowls went
round.

With odorous fpices they perfum'd the place,
And mirth and pleafure fhone in every face.
Damian alone, of all the menial train,
Sad in the midft of triumphs, figh'd for pain;
Damian alone, the Knight's obfequious Squire,
Confum'd at heart, and fed a fecret fire.
His lovely mistress all his foul poffefs'd;
He look'd, he languifh'd, and could take no reft:
His talk perfortn'd, he fadly went his way,
Fell on his bed, and loth'd the light of day.
There let him lie, till his relenting dame
Weep in her turn, and wafte in equal flame.
The weary fun, as learned poets write,
Forfock th' horizon, and roll'd down the light;
While glittering stars his abfent beams fupply,
And night's dark mantle overspread the fky.
Then rofe the guests; and, as the time requir'd,
Each paid his thanks, and decently retir'd. [drefs,
The foe once gone, our knight prepar'd t'un-
So keen he was, and eager to poffefs:
But first thought fit th' affiftance to receive,
Which grave phyficians fcruple not to give;
Satyrion near, with hot Eringos food,
Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood,
Whofe ufe old bards defcribe in luscious rhymes,
And critics learn'd explain to modern times.
By this the fheets were spread, the bride un-
drefs'd,
The room was fprinkled, and the bed was blefs'd.
What next enfued befcems me not to say;
'Tis fung, he labour'd till the dawning day,
Then briskly fprung from bed, with heart fo light,
As all were nothing he had done by night;
And fipp'd his cordial as he fat upright.
He kifs'd his balmy fpoufe with wanton play,
And feebly fung a lufty roundely :
Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast;
For every labour must have rest at last.

But anxious cares the penfive Squire opprefs'd, Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forfook his breaft: The raging flames that in his bofom dwell, He wanted art to hide, and means to tell; Yet hoping time th' occafion might betray, Compos'd a fonnet to the lovely May; Which, writ and folded with the niceft art, He wrapp'd in filk, and laid upon his heart,

When now the fourth revolving day was run, ('Twas June, and Cancer had receiv'd the sun) Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride; The good old Knight mov'd slowly by her fide. High mafs was fung; they feafted in the hall; The fervants round stood ready at their call. The Squire alone was abfent from the board, And much his fickness griev'd his worthy lord. Who pray'd his fpouse, attended with her train, To vifit Damian, and divert his pain. Th' obliging dames obey'd with one confent; They left the hall, and to his lodging went. The female tribe furround him as he lay, And close beside him fat the gentle May: Where, as fhe try'd his pulse, he softly drew A heaving figh, and caft a mournful view Then gave his bill, and brib'd the powers divine, With fecret vows, to favour his design.

Who ftudies now but difcontented May?
On her foft couch uneafily fhe lay:
The lumpish husband fnor'd away the night,
Till coughs awak'd him near the morning light.
What then he did, I'll not prefume to tell,
Nor if the thought herself in heaven or hell?.
Honeft and dull in nuptial bed they lay,
Till the bell toll'd, and all arose to pray.

Were it by forceful defliny decreed,
Or did from chance, or nature's power proceed
Or that some star, with afpect kind to love,
Shed its felected influence from above;
Whatever was the caufe, the tender dame
Felt the first motions of an infant flame;
Receiv'd th' impreffions of the love-fick Squire,

And wasted in the foft infectious fire.

Ye fair, draw near, let May's example move Your gentle minds to pity those who love! Had fome fierce tyrant in her ftead been found, The poor adorer fure had hang'd, or drown'd: But the, your fex's mirror, free from pride, Was much too meek to prove a homicide,

f

But to my tale: Some fages have defin'd Pleasure the fovereign bliss of human kind : Our knight (who ftudy'd much, we may suppose) Deriv'd his high philofophy from those : For, like a prince, he bore the vast expence Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence: His house was stately, his retinue gay; Large was his train, and gorgeous his array. His fpacious garden, made to yield to none, Was compaid round with walls of folid stone; Priapus could not half describe the grace (Though god of gardens) of this charming place : A place to tire the rumbling wits of France In long defcriptions, and exceed romance; Enough to fhame the gentleft bard that fings Of painted meadows, and of purling Springs.

Full in the centre of the flowery ground, A crystal fountain fpread its ftreams around, The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crown'd: About this fpring (if ancient fame say true) The dapper elves their moon-light sports purfue: Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen, In circling dances gambol'd on the green, While tuneful fprites a merry concert made, And airy mufic warbled through the fade,

Hither the noble knight would oft repair,
(His feene of pleasure, and peculiar care)
For this he held it dear. and always bore
The filver key that lock'd the garden-door.
To this fweet place, in summer's fultry heat,
He us'd from noife and bufinefs to retreat;
And here in dalliance spend the live-long day,
"Solus cum fola," with his fprightly May:
For whate'er work was undifcharg'd a-bed,
The duteous knight in this fair garden fped.

But, ah! what mortal lives of blifs fecure?
How fhort a space our worldly joys endure!
O Fortune, fair, like all thy treacherous kind,
But faithlefs ftill, and wavering as the wind!
O painted monfter, form'd mankind to cheat
With pleafing poifon, and with foft deceit !
This rich, this amorous venerable knight,
Amidst his eafe, his folace and delight,
Struck blind by thee, refigns his days to grief,
And calls on death, the wretch's laft relief.

The rage of jealousy then feiz'd his mind,
For much he fear'd the faith of woman-kind.
His wife, not fuffer'd from his fide to ftray,
Was captive kept, he watch'd her night and day,
Abridg'd her pleasures, and confin'd her sway.
Full oft in tears did haplefs May complain,
And figh'd full oft; but figh'd and wept in vain :
She look'd on Damian with a lover's eye;
For, oh, 'twas fix'd, she must possess or die !
Nor lefs impatience vex'd her amorous Squire,
Wild with delay, and burning with defire.
Watch'd as the was, yet could he not refrain
By fecret writing to difclofe his pain:
The dame by figns reveal'd her kind intent,
Till both were confcious what each other meant.

Ah, gentle knight, what could thy eyes avail, Though they could fee as far as fhips can fail ? 'I'is better, fure, when blind, deceiv'd to be, Than be deluded when a man can fee!

Argus himself, fo cautious and fo wife, Was over-watch'd, for all his hundred eyes; So many an honest husband may, 'tis known, Who, wilely, never thinks the cafe his own.

The dame at last, by diligence and care,
Procur'd the key her knight was wont to bear;
She took the wards in wax before the fire,
And gave th' impreffion to the trufty Squire.
By means of this, fome wonder shall appear,
Which, in due place and feafon, you may hear.
Well fang fweet Ovid, in the days of
yore,
What flight is that, which love will not explore?
And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly how
The feats true lovers, when they lift, can do:
'Though watch'd and captive, yet in fpite of all,
They found the art of killing through a wall.

But now no longer from our tale to ftray;
It happ'd, that once upon a fammer's day,
Our reverend knight was urg'd to amorous play;
He rais'd his fpoufe ere Matin bell was rung,
And thus his morning canticle he fung.

Awake, my love, difclofe thy radiant eyes;
Arife, my wife, iny beauteous lady, rife!
Hear how the doves with penûive notes com-

plain,

And in foft murmurs tell the trees their pain :

The winter's paft; the clouds and tempefts Av:
The fun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky.
Fair without fpot, whofe every charming part
My befom wounds, and captivates my heart;
Come, and in mutual pleasure let's engage,
Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.

This heard, to Damian ftraight a figa fhe made,
To hafte before; the gentle Squire obey'd:
Secret, and undefcry'd, he took his way,
And ambush'd clofe behind an arbour lay.

It was not long ere January came,
And hand in hand with him his lovely dame;
Blind as he was, not doubting all was fare,
He turn'd the key, and made the gate fecure.

Here let us walk, he faid, obferv'd by none,
Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown :
So may my foul have joy, as thou, my wife,
Art far the dearest folace of my life;
And rather would I choofe, by Heaven above,
To die this inftant, than to lofe thy love.
Reflect what truth was in my passion shown,
When unendow'd I took thee for my own,
And fought no treasure but thy heart alone.
Old as I am, and now depriv'd of fight,
Whilst thou art faithful to thy own true knight,
Nor age nor blindness rob me of delight.
Each other lofs with patience I can bear,
The lofs of thee is what I only fear.

Confider then, my lady, and my wife,
The folid comforts of a virtuous life.
As, firft, the love of Chrift himself you gain;
Next, your own honour undefil'd maintain;
And lastly, that which fure your mind must movt,
My whole cftate fhall gratify your love:
Make your own terms, and e'er to-morrow's fun
Difplays his light, by Heaven, it shall be done.
I feal the contract with a holy kifs,

And will perform, by this-my dear, and this-
Have comfort, fpouse, nor think thy Lord unkind;
'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind.
For when thy charms my fober thoughts engage,
And join'd to them my own unequal age,
From thy dear fide I have no power to part,
Such fecret transports warm my melting heart.
For who, that once poffefs'd thofe heavenly charms,
Could live one moment abfent from thy arms?

He ceas'd, and May with modeft grace reply'd (Weak was her voice, as while the spoke the cry'd):

Heaven knows (with that a tender sigh the drew)
I have a foul to fave as well as you;
And, what no lefs you to my charge commend,
My dearest honour, will to death defend.
To you in holy church I gave my hand,
And join'd my heart in wedlock's facred band:
Yet, after this, if you diftruft my care,
Then hear, my lord, and witness what I fwear.
First, may the yawning earth her bolom rend,
And let me hence to hell alive defcend;
Or die the death I dread no less than hell,
Sew'd in a fack, and plung'd into a well;
Ere I my fame by one lewd act difgrace,
Or once renounce the honour of my race:
For know, Sir light, of gentle blood I came;
Ilothe a whore, and ftartle at the name.

But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,
And learn from hence their ladies to fufpect:
Elfe why these needlefs cautions, Sir, to me?
Thefe doubts and fears of female,conftancy!
This chime ftill rings in every lady's ear,
The only ftrain a wife muft hope to hear.

Thus while fhe fpoke, a fidelong glance she caft, Where Damian, kneeling, worfhipp'd as she past, She faw him watch the motions of her eye, And fingled out a pear-tree planted nigh: 'Twas charg'd with fruit that made a goodly fhow,

And hung with dangling pears was every bough.
Thither th' obfequious Squire addrefs'd his pace,
And, climbing, in the fummit took his place;
The knight and lady walk'd beneath in view,
Where let us leave them, and our tale pursue.

Twas now the feafon when the glorious fun
His heavenly progress through the twins had run;
And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,
To glad the glebe, and paint the flowery fields.
Clear was the day, and Phœbus, rising bright,
Had freak'd the azure firmament with light;
Hepierc'd the glittering clouds with golden (treams,
And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beans.
It fo befel, in that fair morning-tide,
The fairies fported on the garden fide,
And in the midft their monarch and his bride.
So featly tripp'd the light-foot ladies round,
The knights fo nimbly o'er the greenfword

That fear dey bent the flowers, or touch'd the S

The dances ended, all the fairy train

For pinks and daifies fearch'd the flowery plain;
While, on a bank reclin'd of rifing green,
Thus, with a frown, the king bespoke his queen.
'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,
The treachery you women use to man :

A thoufand authors have this truth made out,
And fad experience leaves no room for doubt.
Heaven reft thy fpirit, noble Solomon,
A wifer monarch never faw the fun;
All wealth, all honours, the fupreme degree
Of earthly blifs, was well beftow'd on thee!
For fagely haft thou faid: Of all mankind,
One only juft and righteous hope to find:
But fhouldst thou fearch the fpacious world around,
Yet one good woman is not to be found.

Thus fays the king, who knew your wickedness:
The fon of Sirach teftifies no lefs.
So may fome wildfire on your bodies fall,
Or fonie devouring plague confume you all.
As well you view the lecher in the tree,
And well this honourable knight you see :
But fince he's blind and old (a helpless cafe),
His Squire fhall cuckold him before your face.
Now, by my own dread majefty I fwear,
And by this awful fceptre which I bear,
No impious wretch fhall 'fcape unpunish'd long,
That in my prefence offers fuch a wrong.
I will this inftant undeceive the knight,
And in the very act restore his fight;
And let the ftrumpet here in open view,
A warning to thefe ladies, and to you,
And all the faithlefs sex, for ever to be true.

And will you fo, reply'd the queen, indeed? Now, by my mother's foul it is decreed, She shall not want an answer at her need. For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage, And all the fex in each fucceeding age! Art fhall be theirs, to varnish an offence, And fortify their crime with confidence. Nay, were they taken in a ftrict embrace, Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd on the ping All they fhall need is to protest and swear, Breathe a foft figh, and drop a tender tear; Till their wife hufbands, gull'd by arts like thefe, Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geele.

What though this flanderous Jew, this Solomon, Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one; The wifer wits of later times declare,

How conftant, chafte, and virtuous, women are:
Witness the martyrs, who refign'd their breath,
Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death;
And witness next what Roman authors tell,
How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.

But, fince the facred leaves to all are free, And men interpret texts, why fhould not we? By this no more was meant, than to have fhown, That fovereign goodnefs dwells in him alone Who only is, and is but only One

But grant the worft; fhall women then be weigh'd
By every word, that Solomon has faid?
What though this king (as ancient ftory beafts)
Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hofts;
He ceas'd at laft his Maker to adore,
And did as much for idol gods, or more.
Beware what lavifh praifes you confer
On a rank lecher and idolater;"
Whofe reign, indulgent God, fays holy writ,
Did but for David's righteous fake permit;
David, the monarch after heaven's own mind,
Who lov'd our fex, and honour'd all our kind.

Well, I'm a woman, and as fuch muft fpeak;
Silence would fwell me, and my heart would break,
Know then, fcorn your dull authorities,
Your idle wits, and all their learned lies.
By heaven, thofe authors are our fex's foes,
Whom, in our right, I must and will oppose.
Nay (quoth the king) dear madam, be not
wroth:

I yield it up; but fince I gave my oath,
That this much-injur'd knight again fhould fee,
It must be done-I am a king, faid he,
And one, whofe faith has ever facred been.

And fo has mine (the faid)-I am a queen:
Her anfwer the fhall have, I undertake;
And thus an end of all difpute I make.
Try when you lift; and you fhall find, my lord,
It is not in our fex to break our word.

We leave them here in this heroic strain, And to the knight our flory turns again; Who in the garden, with his lovely May, Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay: This was his fong; "Oh kind and conftant be, "Conftant and kind I'll ever prove to thee."

"

-Thus finging as he went, at last 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 stopp'd, and fighing: Oh good gods! the
cry'd,

What pangs, what fudden fhoots, diftend my fide!
Of for that tempting fruit, fo fresh, so green;
Help, for the love of heaven's immortal Queen!
Help, deareft 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 must I languish then, she said, and die,
Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?
At least, kind Sir, for charity's fweet fake,
Vouchfafe the trunk between your arms to take;
Then from your back 1 might afcend the tree;
Do you but floop, and leave the reft to me.

With all my foul, he thus reply'd again,
I'd spend my dearest 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, though not in phrase refin'd;
Though blunt my tale, yet honeft is my mind.
What feats the lady in the tree might do,
I pass, as gambols never known to you;
But fure it was a merrier fit, she swore,
Than in her life the ever felt before.

In that nice moment, lo! the wondering
knight

Look'd out, and stood restor❜d to sudden fight.
Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent,
As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent;
But when he faw his bofom-wife fo drefs'd,
His rage was fuch as cannot be express'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 re-
ply'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 struggling with a man upon a tree?
Did I for this the power of magic prove?
Unhappy wife, whofe crime was too much love!

If this be struggling, by this holy light,
'Tis ftruggling with a vengeance (quoth the
knight):

So Heaven preferve the fight it has restor'd;
As with thefe 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!

Guard me, good angels! cry'd the gentle May,
Pray heaven, this magic work the proper way!
Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you fee,
You ne'er had us'd these killing words to me:
So help me, fates, as 'tis no perfect fight,
But fome faint glimmering of a doubtful light.

What I have faid (quoth he) I must maintain,
For by th' immortal powers it feem'd too plain- |

By all those powers, fome frenzy feiz'd your'

mind

(Reply'd the dame): are these the thanks I find?
Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so kind!
She faid; a rifing figh exprefs'd her woe,
The ready tears apace began to flow,
And, as they fell, fhe wip'd from either eye
The drops (for women, when they lift, can cry).
The knight was touch'd, and in his looks ap-

pear'd

Signs of remorfe, while thus his spouse he cheer'd:
Madam, 'tis paft, and my fhort anger o'er;
Come down, and vex your tender heart no more:
Excufe me, dear, if aught amifs was said,
For, on my foul, amends fhall foon be made :
Let my repentance your forgiveness draw,
By heaven, I fwore but what I thought I faw.
Ah, my lov'd lord! 'twas much unkind (she
cry'd)

On bare fufpicion thus to treat your bride.
But, till your fight's eftablish'd, for a while,
Imperfect objects may your fenfe beguile.
Thus when from fleep we firft our eyes difplay,
The balls are wounded with the piercing ray,
And dufky vapours rife, and intercept the day.
So, just recovering from the fhades of night,
Your fwimming eyes are drunk with fudden
light,
[your fight:
Strange phantoms dance around, and fkim before
Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rafhly deem;
Heaven knows how feldom things are what they

feem!

Confult your reason, and you soon shall 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 fhe leap'd into her lord's embrace,
With well-diffembled virtue in her face.

He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er and o'er,
Disturb'd with doubts and jealoufies no more:
Both, pleas'd and bless'd, renew'd their mutual
Vows,

A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.

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.

THE WIFE OF BATH,

HER PROLOGUE.

PROM CHAUCER.

BEHOLD the woes of matrimonial life,
And hear with reverence an experienc'd wife!
To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due,
And think, for once, a woman tells you true.
In all these 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 hufbands from the church to bed.

Chrift faw a wedding once, the fcripture fays,
And saw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days;

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