 | A royal arbor (1663) |  |
The happy Adventure, or the witty Lady: A story.
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All you that Wit and Beauty know,Give ear to me, and I will shew
A Witty Fair-one that can fit
Your mindes with Beauty and with Wit;
She was a Virgin not inthrall'd,
And commonly Maria call'd.
2
Fair Isabel was one that sheHad lov'd even from her infancy,
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And nimble youth, call'd Frederick;
Who for a chance which often doth
Befall, refus'd to keep his oath.
3
Her Brother was a Merchant, andHad all her portion in his hand,
A man of judgement, wealth and wit,
And went himself to sea with it;
But certain news came in a day,
He and his ship was east away.
4
Her portion by mischance thus gone,She must no more be lookt upon,
For Frederick will make't appear,
He lov'd her money more then her;
Thus in one day she must forego
A Brother and a Husband too.
5
He doth begin to love each graceThat dwells in fair Maria's face,
Her wit and beauty (both combin'd)
So strangely captivate his minde;
That he sollicites night and day
The Lady in a lustful way.
6
His last request she answers thus,Sir, what will people speak of us,
If't should be known, as 'twill (quoth she)
If I at last with childe should be?
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E're that be known he'l marry her.
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She bids him come at night, and sheWill entertain him secretly;
Quoth she, if just at ten you'l wait,
You shall come through the garden gate:
One pair of stairs you cannot miss,
Next to the Bower my Chamber is.
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There we in darkness both must lye,You'l finde no other light but I;
And in the morning when the day
Appears you must make haste away,
Lest Visitants do come to me,
And make a sad discovery.
9
He takes his leave of her, but thenEach hour is twenty until ten;
No other thoughts come in his head,
But fair Maria and the bed,
And she as busie is in thought,
How this to pass may well be brought.
10
Her purest linnen she does spread,Perfum'd and pleasant for the bed;
The night grows dark, that none can see,
The hour is come, and so is he:
Now what they do I dare not tell,
I fear you all can guess too well.
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In silence all the night was past,And both do fall asleep at last;
The morning's come, the sun doth rise,
And now he views his Mistress eyes;
But when he had survey'd her well,
'Twas his contracted Isabel:
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This was the witty fair ones plot,He swore and curst, and up he got;
Maria doth the Musick guide,
To bid good morrow to the Bride;
And every part o'th' Town doth tell,
That he hath married Izabel.
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He findes himself thus catcht, and heIn silence suffers it to be;
Maria with good news doth come,
Her Brother is come richly home;
And that the rumour of the wrack
(As it appears) was a mistake.
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This proves great joy to Izabel,Maria likes the news as well;
For 'twas well known that he and she
Were Lovers e're he went to sea:
His coming home hath rais'd them all,
Who did in desperation fall.
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They meet, kiss, and salute their loves,One's soul in t'others body moves;
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But onely they that love as well;
The Marriage-day appointed is,
The first step to a Lovers bliss.
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You witty fair ones that are here,Is not this project chaste and clear?
And was it not a noble end,
To pleasure a contracted friend?
Of all that Poets e're exprest,
The witty fair one is the best.
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