 | Poetical Tales |  |
12
THE USELESS PRECAUTION.
Husbands are such provoking fellows!
I've often wish'd it was high treason
For any husband to be jealous,
Whether he had or had not reason.
I hate a husband like a Tory.
But to proceed—
Now, Ladies, you have heard my creed,
Pray be so kind to hear my story.
I've often wish'd it was high treason
For any husband to be jealous,
Whether he had or had not reason.
I hate a husband like a Tory.
But to proceed—
Now, Ladies, you have heard my creed,
Pray be so kind to hear my story.
There liv'd a Don, no matter where,
As jealous as his wife was fair.
The Dame was cautious in her carriage,
So very cautious, you'd have thought her
Not Eve's, but only Adam's daughter,
His daughter by a second marriage.
Was most severe on worldly dames,
And damn'd the devil, and call'd him names.
But all her virtue was in vain,
She could not calm his troubled brain.
For all the plans that Madam could devise,
Gall'd by the matrimonial chain,
Her husband never clos'd his eyes;
His doubts return'd with double force,
Buzzing about his ears, like flies
That buzz about a poor gall'd horse.
As jealous as his wife was fair.
The Dame was cautious in her carriage,
So very cautious, you'd have thought her
Not Eve's, but only Adam's daughter,
His daughter by a second marriage.
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And damn'd the devil, and call'd him names.
But all her virtue was in vain,
She could not calm his troubled brain.
For all the plans that Madam could devise,
Gall'd by the matrimonial chain,
Her husband never clos'd his eyes;
His doubts return'd with double force,
Buzzing about his ears, like flies
That buzz about a poor gall'd horse.
To strengthen the devotion of his bride,
A thousand bars and bolts he try'd,
All guarded by a maiden aunt;
A dragon fierce and gaunt,
A cold, chaste, meagre female devil,
As scraggy as a walking ladder,
And so impertinently civil,
She follow'd like the Lady's shadow.
But what he deem'd his coup de maitre,
Was a strange kind of nomenclature,
Containing an exact relation
Of every stratagem and trick
Devis'd by woman or old nick,
Since cuckold-making came in fashion.
A thousand bars and bolts he try'd,
All guarded by a maiden aunt;
A dragon fierce and gaunt,
A cold, chaste, meagre female devil,
As scraggy as a walking ladder,
And so impertinently civil,
She follow'd like the Lady's shadow.
But what he deem'd his coup de maitre,
Was a strange kind of nomenclature,
Containing an exact relation
Of every stratagem and trick
Devis'd by woman or old nick,
Since cuckold-making came in fashion.
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This serv'd to calm his jealous fear.
But did it answer? You shall hear.
Once on a time, it came to pass
That good Aunt Deborah and Co
Went out to mass,
As having no where else to go;
And as they went, a shower came dropping,
And gave them both a sopping.
This was no shower of common water,
For that had been a trifling matter;
This was not water fit for drinking,
For since its solar distillation,
By an improper education,
It had acquir'd a trick of stinking.
But did it answer? You shall hear.
Once on a time, it came to pass
That good Aunt Deborah and Co
Went out to mass,
As having no where else to go;
And as they went, a shower came dropping,
And gave them both a sopping.
This was no shower of common water,
For that had been a trifling matter;
This was not water fit for drinking,
For since its solar distillation,
By an improper education,
It had acquir'd a trick of stinking.
What's to be done in this event?
A gentle youth by chance was near,
Who, while the Aunt for cloaths was sent,
Wip'd from the fair-one's eye each falling tear.
The Fair, lest meddling prudes should scold,
Or else by her devotions led,
Or else for fear of catching cold,
Took refuge in the stripling's bed.
So while the Don was making a strange clatter,
Kicking the maiden aunt down stairs,
Cursing all the saints by pairs,
Tearing his hair and nomenclature,
Sweating and stewing like a sausage—
To pass his time our curious boy
Was sailing on the sea of joy,
Sailing to find the north-east passage.
A gentle youth by chance was near,
Who, while the Aunt for cloaths was sent,
Wip'd from the fair-one's eye each falling tear.
The Fair, lest meddling prudes should scold,
Or else by her devotions led,
Or else for fear of catching cold,
Took refuge in the stripling's bed.
So while the Don was making a strange clatter,
Kicking the maiden aunt down stairs,
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Tearing his hair and nomenclature,
Sweating and stewing like a sausage—
To pass his time our curious boy
Was sailing on the sea of joy,
Sailing to find the north-east passage.
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