University of Virginia Library

O my dear Lady! O my Lady dear!
From gentle Flock-bed rouze, and eke vouchsafe to hear,
Your Paramour, whose Brains (by the same Token)
Are like his Fiddle crackt, with Strings and Heart nigh broken.
O pity a disast'rous Lover weeping,
Who for You wakes all Night, while You are soundly sleeping.

While thus he Sings, the Carpenter awoke,
And jogging Alison, thus gently spoke;
“Hear'st Thou not how beneath our Bow'ry Wall
“Absolon chaunts blythe Notes, and Quavers small!
As scarce awake She yawn'd, and answer'd Gaping,
“God wot I hear,—but little mind his Scraping.

Day after Day he courts the scornful Dame,
Who slights his Passion, and neglects his Flame;
His am'rous Cares each Hour augmented so,—
The Love-sick Wretch was quite begon with Woe;
Pleas'd with his Pains, he sooths the fond Disease,
And try'd all Methods, Lovers take, to please.
He sleeks, careens, perfumes, and dresses high,
Affects soft Airs, and gambols in her Eye;
Now bribes some trusty Female Friend to try her,
And Billet-Doux imparts his am'rous Fire,
Righteously scrawl'd with many a Scripture-Portion,
To shew how much he was—at her Devotion.

For Her he dainty Cates, and Viands got,
Flawns, Custards, Cakes, and Wafers piping hot,
And (for he knew the Dame was nicely bred)
He sent her fragrant Hydromel, and Mead;
For well he deem'd some Nymphs, not over-chaste,
By Courtly Presents are subdu'd at last:
The heedless Sex too easily believe,
And Men by various Stratagems deceive:
The Young and Vain cheap glitt'ring Toys approve,
Some flatter'd are, some bully'd into Love;
But all his Skill can no Relief impart,
The Gentle Nich'las so possess'd her Heart.

The Delphian God in vain his Songs inspire,
His Master-Hand no more provokes the Lyre,
His Midnight Toils with no Reward are crown'd,
His slighted Gifts are unsuccessful found:
Th' Ungrate repays his Flames with cold Disdain,
Smiles at his Torments, and neglects his Pain,
With sportive Scorn insults her humble Slave,
And ridicules him for the Wounds She gave.

Now when one Saturday Uxorious John
On urgent Bus'ness was to Os'ney gone,
The Scholar with the Wife in Counsel join'd,
Disclos'd the Project, which he had design'd;
Where 'twas concluded, if the Game went right,
Nich'las shou'd solace in her Arms all Night;
T' effect the Plot, they both their Wits employ,
Both equally impatient to enjoy.

Then to his Room he secretly conveys
Provisions to subsist him for Two Days;
Bidding her tell the Property, in Case
He ask'd for Him, She knew not where he was,
Nor had She all the Day beheld his Face;
And that She fear'd some Accident befel
The moody Scholar, or he was not well;
Since nor the Maid, nor She her self cou'd make,
With all their Art, the Gentle Nich'las speak.
In close Retirement thus he pass'd away,
Like some Recluse, the melancholy Day,
There eat, and slept till Sunday-Night came on,
And Light departed with the Setting-Sun.

The good old Carpenter with much Surprize,
And senseless Wonder, turn'd up both his Eyes,
Then wisely shook his Noddle sage, and said,
“Pray Heav'n he be not suddenly fall'n dead.
“Ah! Benedicite by this good Light,
“I fear—much fear that all Things go not right.
“Book-Learning is, no doubt, a mighty Pain,
“The Night-Sweat, and Day-Labour of the Brain,
“Poring brings Scholars many a grievous Ill;
“An Apoplexy—and a Book may kill.
“Life is uncertain too, and full of Sorrow;
“We're in our Shops To-Day, and Graves To-Morrow.
“Lately I saw a Neighbour work full hard,
“Who now rests from his Toils—in our Church-yard:
“Bankrupt of Life, I saw him, Trade forsaking,
“Extended on a Bier of his own Making.

The Preachment done, he call'd in furious Fashion,
A Trusty 'Squire to make an Application.

Up to the Scholar's Room he flew in haste,
And jumbl'd at the Door—but found all fast:
Again he storm'd it with a boist'rous Force,
There bawl'd, and hallow'd till the Slave grew hoarse,
“What hoa! why Master Nicholas, I say,
“What! will you doze thus all the live-long Day?
But, tho' he thunder'd, till he shook the Room,
With trusty Nich'las not a Word—but Mum.
Below he spy'd a Port-hole wide and large,
Thro' which the stern Grimalkin us'd to charge
Pickeering Parties of the Vermin-Kind,
With whom he many a bloody Battel join'd;
There he saw Nich'las sit, with Looks intent,
Gaping, and staring tow'rds the Firmament,
As if he was examining the Moon
For Napkin gone astray, or Silver Spoon,
Resolv'd to bring the Planets to Confession,
For Culprit Mortal's, not their own Transgression.
Surpriz'd at this unusual Sight, the Man
Down Stairs agast unto his Master ran,
Ready to break his Neck with eager Haste,
To tell what he had seen, and what had pass't,
And gave a full and punctual Relation
Of the Result—of his Negotiation.

The strange disast'rous News his Servant brought
Roll'd in his Mind, and hung upon his Thought;
At which both Hands across his Breast he laid,
“Defend us good Saint Frideswide, he said;
“We're foil'd by Providence, nor can we know
“What shall befal our Pilgrimage below.
“Astrology, with Notions wild and vain,
“Has made him giddy, and quite turn'd his Brain.
“'Tis a presumptuous daring Crime to pry
“Into the Counsels of the Deity.
“Unlearn'd my self, I still this Truth profess't,
“Most Happy they that understand the least,
“Who in Religious Offices advance
“By an obedient, pious Ignorance,
“And wisely in the beaten Path proceed,
“Nor rashly venture on beyond their Creed;
“Thro' winding Labyrinths we blindly stray,
“And in the wand'ring Maze of Knowledge lose our Way.

“A like Mischance befel, if Fame don't lye,
“A Brother Student in Astrology.
“As He was saunt'ring out one Star-light Even,
“To view the Revolution-State of Heav'n,
“And poring thro' his Necromantick Glass,
“To see what, he ne're thought shou'd come to pass:
“Into a Pit he fell.—Nor He, nor all
“His trusty Planets cou'd foresee his Fall:
“Alas! he saw not that.—And thus we find,
“Tho' Heav'n may wink, Astrologers are blind.

“But yet exceedingly I rue the Case,
“And sore Mischance of Gentle Nicholas;
“He must be waken'd, on this sad Occasion,
“From Musing deep, and death-like Contemplation;
“If ought my Strength or Cunning can prevail,
“If well-known Spells, and Amulets don't fail.
With that he call'd his Knave up from below,
And bid him bring along an Iron-Crow,
Which forcibly the brawny Rustick thrust
Between the yawning Door, and sturdy Post,
And with Three thund'ring Heaves the shatter'd Door,
Born from its Hinges, flew into the Floor.

But Nich'las well appriz'd, in sullen State,
Stiff, without Motion, like a Statue, sat.
His stony Eyes with wild Amazement stare,
And upward still he gap'd into the Air.
The Carpenter advanc'd and shook him hard,
The more he shook, the more he gap'd, and star'd;
Then piteously he yell'd, and in his Ear
Sent hideous Screams;—but Nick refus'd to hear:
Then first to Exorcise the Room he falls,
Crossing the Door, the Threshold and the Walls,
And after mumbl'd o're in baleful Tone
The dreary Night-Spell thrice, which thus goes on:
“From Fairy Elves, and Church-yard Sprights,
“That walk their Ghostly Rounds a-nights,
“From the deaf Adder's forked Sting,
“And the Night-Raven's sooty Wing,
“From that seducing wand'ring Fire,
“That Peasant leads thro' Dirt and Mire,
“The Night-Mare that on Mortal gets,
“And rides him till he groans, and sweats;
“Saint Benedict defend this Room;
“Nor let the foul Fiend hither come.
Thus, after he had charm'd, and shook him long,
He by degrees began to use his Tongue;
Then with a Groan his Words a Passage found,
“And shall (says he) eftsoons the World be drown'd?
The Carpenter cry'd, Well-a-day! Alas!
“What is it you forebode must come to pass!
“Ah! think on God—to Heav'n thy Pray'rs address,
“Like poor Mechanick Mortals in Distress.
“Fetch me (said he)—again my Spirits fall;
“Fetch me—a potent Mug of humming Ale;
“And afterward in private thou shalt hear
“What much concerns us both—but first produce the Beer.
Of mighty Ale he brought a Double Quart,
And after each had swallow'd down his Part,
The Scholar rais'd the Door, and made it fast,
And at his Side the Carpenter he plac'd.

“Now John, my kindest Host, and Landlord dear,
“Thou on the Gospel of thy Faith shalt swear,
“To living Wight thou never wilt betray
“The Tenor of the Words I now shall say:
“For know the Secrets I impart to thee,
“Were first by Gracious Heav'n reveal'd to me;
“Distraction shall ensue, if I'm betray'd,
“And Frenzy seize on thy perfidious Head.
Sage John rejoin'd, “You do me mighty wrong,
“Thus to suspect me lavish of my Tongue;
“I am no Cask, in which the Waters sink,
“And loosely flow thro' ev'ry leaky Chink;
“I'll not disclose on Forfeit of my Life,
“Not ev'n to Alison my dearest Wife.
Quoth Nich'las then—and paus'd as at a Stand,
And with a friendly Pressure grasp'd his Hand;
“To thee, and thee alone, I will declare
“The secret Sentiments of ev'ry Star.
“As lately I the various Moon beheld,
“'Twas there by my Astrology reveal'd,
“(Directed by her kind, auspicious Light)
“That upon Monday next, at Quarter-night,
“Rains shall descend too fierce to be withstood,
“And greater far than those of Noah's Flood;
“The delug'd Globe shall sink within an Hour,
“The Storm so great, so terrible the Show'r,
“Mankind shall perish in the boist'rous Tide.
“Alas! my Wife!—(the Carpenter reply'd.)
“Shall She be drown'd?—Alas! mine Alison!
Then almost sunk with Grief into a Swoon;
“Is there no Remedy in this sad Case?
“Yes, yes, full good (quoth Gentle Nicholas)
“If thou wilt steer by Solomon's Advice,
“And cheaply grow, by other's Counsels, wise.
“Hast thou not been instructed, how of old
“The General Flood to Noah was foretold?
“How he, by secret Revelation, found
“Mankind must perish, and the World be drown'd!
“What wily Projects fill'd his thoughtful Head,
“To save the beauteous Consort of his Bed!
“He at this Nick much rather wou'd incline
“The Patriarchal Grandeur to resign
“Of all his fleecy Ewes, and all his milky Kine,
“Than not to have procur'd a single Ship,
“To waft her safely o're the rolling Deep.
“Therefore, without more Ceremony, go,
“And instantly get ready for us Two
“And Alison, three Kneading-Troughs, so large,
“That we may ride secure as in a Barge;
“Then, after that, proportionably get
“Provisions good of Liquids, and of Meat,
“To victual for a Day the little Fleet:
“The Waters shall abate, and ebb away,
“About the Prime upon th' ensuing Day.
“But ah! beware that not a Word be said
“Or to thy Knave, or Gillian the Maid,
“Both doom'd to die;—no kind Reprieve is giv'n,
“Such is the Sentence, such the Will of Heav'n!
“Ask me not why—You but in vain require,
“I may not gratify thy fond Desire;
“As often as you ask, I will deny,
“Nor once divulge the Secrets of the Sky:
“Suffice it, that thy Grandsire Noah's Fate
“Successfully shall on thy Fortunes wait,
“Thou shalt enjoy the wat'ry Globe alone,
“The boundless Riches of the World thine own.
“As for thy Wife—take thou no further Care,
“The Stars determine to preserve the Fair.

“Now when thou hast perform'd what I have said,
“And all my Precepts punctually obey'd,
“(Hanging the Vessels in the Roof so high,
“As scarce to be discern'd by Mortal Eye)
“And carefully in ev'ry Wherry stor'd
“A trusty Ax to cut th' impending Cord;
“Next I enjoin thee, hew a Passage wide
“In Front of thy fair Mansion, and provide
“To back th' unruly Waves, and stem the boist'rous Tide.
“Thus shall the floating Navy glide away,
“As from the Dock, and launch into the Sea.
“Then merrily we'll scud (I undertake)
“As the white Duck, when she pursues the Drake.
“Now will I call—hoa Alison!—hoa John!
“Chear y' my Hearts—the Flood will pass anon.
“But on that Night, when we the Vessels board,
“All must be silent, and not speak a Word,
“But secretly to Heav'n our Pray'rs address,
“And importune the Gods for our Success.
“Once more,—and then I have discharg'd my Heart,
“Thou, and thy Wife must distant swing apart,
“Least any impious, foul Offence arise
“From Touch obscene, lewd Thoughts, or wanton Eyes.

Th' Instructions giv'n, away the Husband went,
His Soul distracted, full of Discontent,
And to his Wife discover'd all, which She
Was conscious of, and better knew than He:
But yet pretending well-dissembl'd Fear,
She beat her faithless Breast, and tore her Hair;
True Sex all o're,—the Nymph began to cry,
“Ah! do not let thy faithful Turtle die;
“Preserve thy Alison,—O save my Life!
“I am thy true, thy very wedded Wife.

Affection can th' External Senses blind,
And stamps such deep Impressions on the Mind,
Th' Imagination is so strongly wrought,
With Fancy we grow sick, and ev'n expire with Thought.
Hence Visionary Floods his Soul molest,
And roll and tumble in his troubl'd Breast;
He thinks he sees mad Waves insult the Shore,
And hears the loud tempestuous Billows roar,
Then many a Tear he sheds, and inly groans,
Sighs to the Winds, and sends forth bitter Moans,
For Fear the rolling Deluge shou'd destroy
The darling Consort of his Nuptial Joy.

Under a Colour, and a Sham Pretence,
Of weighty Bus'ness, and of Consequence,
The Prentice and the Maid (not well aware on't)
Were sent to London on an April-Errand.

At length th' appointed Monday-Night was come,
The Doors fast shut, no Taper in the Room,
All Things adjusted as they ought to be,
The Ladders fixt,—and up they climb'd all Three.
First Nich'las stalk'd; then gravely mounted John;
With nimble Strides next tript Fair Alison:
There the good Husband sat with list'ning Ears,
At his Devotion, mutt'ring o're his Pray'rs,
Bidding his Beads from Peril to defend,
Expecting still to hear the Rains descend.
In Death-like Sleep the Carpenter soon lay,
Fatigu'd with toilsom Labours of the Day;
Much about Curfew-time, or little more,
His troubl'd Ghost in Travail groan'd full sore,
His Head mis-laid upon the naked Board,
Made him uneasy, and he soundly snor'd:
Which fairly seem'd the friendly Husband's Cue,
T' instruct the Lovers what they ought to do.

When Gentle Nicholas perceiv'd him fast,
Down by the Ladder he descends in Haste;
Then Alison full softly after sped,
And both sans Ceremony went to Bed.
What wanton Revellings! what am'rous Feats
Were play'd between the Matrimonial Sheets!
What breathless Extasies! what dying Charms!
And how they curl'd in one another's Arms!
In melting Pastime, Solace, and Delight,
They pass'd the pleasing Hours, and entertain'd the Night;
Till ev'n the Bell of Lauds began to ring,
And Friars to the Chancells went to sing.

The Parish-Clerk, the am'rous Absolon,
With vain Fantastick Love so wo begon,
To Os'ney-Abby on the Monday went,
Where he his Hours in anxious Pleasure spent;
Of a Monastick privately he sought
If there the Carpenter had lately wrought:
The Brotherhood reply'd—“His Ghostly Beard
“Has not since Saturday to us appear'd;
“Or to the Graunge, our Abbot sends from thence,
“To get Church-Timber and Cathedral-Pence,
“Where frequently the Wight's empow'rd to go,
“And often tarries there a Day or two;
“Or saunt'ring in his Shop, he spends the Day,
“But where he plies, in sooth I cannot say.

This Paramour full jocund grew and light,
And thus bethought himself—“I, in Despite
“Of Jealousy, will kiss fair Alison this Night:
“I'm confident Old Grey-beard has not stirr'd
“About his Door, since Morning first appear'd;
“So may I thrive, at Crowing of the Cock
“I'll at her Chamber-Window softly knock,
“'Till the fair Dame, in Pity from above,
“Shall mourn the Story of my fruitless Love;
“Howe're severe my Fate, I cannot miss
“The Civil Favour of a welcome Kiss;
“Surely I shall some Comfort bear away,
“My Lips have itch'd so merrily all Day.

Now when shrill Chanticleer first crow'd, anon
Up rose the Jolly Lover Absolon;
His Courtly Dress adjusted was, and nice
With Trappings gay, and many a quaint Device;
And to put on a more surprizing Air,
He tiff'd his Locks, and jessamin'd his Hair,
Sweet fragrant Seeds, and perfum'd Pastills eat,
To seem more gracious, and to breath more sweet.

Thus in his gawdy Trim he took his Road
To the good Carpenter's desir'd Abode,
The Casement beat with many a Gentle Stroke,
And as his busy Knuckle play'd, he spoke:
“My Honycomb—my Fair—my Breath of Spice,
“Dear of all Dears—sweet Bird of Paradise,
“Awake—and to thy faithful Lover speak,
“Who sighs for Grief, with Woe whose Heart-strings break.
“You disregard the Suff'rings which I bear,
“Unmindful to reward my am'rous Care;
“Wounded with Love, and bleeding with Disdain,
“I faint, and stagger underneath the Pain;
“I for thy Beauties pant, desire, and burn,
“Like Infant-Lambs that for the Nipple mourn;
“All Night I weep, lament my doleful State,
“The Turtle true ne're mourn'd so for her Mate;
“Listless of Food, I like fond Virgins prove,
“That will admit no Nourishment—but Love.
“Away—be gone—Jack Fool—be gone—away,
“If this is all your Clerkship has to say;
“So help me Heav'n and sweet St. James (says She)
“I love another better far than thee.
“Mortal, Avaunt—(She cry'd)—no more molest
“My softer Dreams, nor interrupt my Rest;
“A Score of Devils seize thee;—prithee keep
“No longer whining here—but let me sleep.
“Unhappy Youth, ungrateful Nymph (he said)
“Are thus my Suff'rings in the Ballance weigh'd?
“Never was faithful Love so shamefully repaid:
“Since 'twill no better be—yet grant me this,
“Vouchsafe the Favour of a single Kiss.
“If so, wilt thou contentedly be gone?
“Upon thy Lips I'll swear (quoth Absolon.)
“Prepare to Kiss the Book—I come anon.
Then whisp'ring Nicholas, She cry'd, “Lie still;
“Of mirthful Laughter thou shalt have thy Fill.
Down on his Marrow-bones he falls, and there
To Love's propitious Pow'rs directs his Pray'r,
And Thanks returning, silently confess'd
“No Lord so happy, and no King so bless'd;
“This Pledge may prove an Earnest of a Sum
“Of Endless Wealth, and Golden Joys to come.
The Casement then Sh' unloos'd with eager Haste;
“Quickly (says She) dispatch, and speed thee fast,
“For fear our envious Neighbours shou'd prove Spies,
“And then they will have Tongues as well as Eyes.
With fresh Perfumes his Mouth he then supply'd,
First lightly brush'd his Lips, and then more nicely dry'd.

Blind was the Night, and black as Pitch or Cole,
When fair and soft She to the Window stole,
And thro' the Casement jutted out behind
Her Nether Countenance with Cheeks as blind;
Where Absolon close buckling to the Matter,
Kiss'd her full sav'rily—'twixt Wind and Water.
At first he started back, surpriz'd with Fear,
Something he felt bush'd o're with curling Hair,
Monstrously rough, and shaggy as a Bear;
On second Thoughts his Error soon appear'd,
He well consider'd Woman wore no Beard;
Whence he profoundly guess'd, he might accost
The Fair One in Reverse—and kiss—à Parte post.
Fretting he scrubs to wipe away the Savour
Of Olid Salts, and Ammoniack Flavour.
He spit—he sputter'd—made a foul ado;
“Te-He (quoth She) and clapt the Window too.
Wrathful away he stalk'd a sullen Pace,
Wild with his Wrongs, impatient of Disgrace,
Distracted when his Rival's Voice he heard
Insulting cry within—“A Beard! a Beard!
He bit his Lips between his Teeth, like Food
He ground the Flesh, and churn'd the frothy Blood.

Resentment now had cool'd his warm Desire,
No more he glows with Love's impetuous Fire;
The Fever in his Blood no longer burns,
The Brand extinguish'd, into Aches turns.
Averse to Love, he shuns the hateful Cause
Of Paramours, and disavows their Laws:
This Backward Kiss had eas'd his Love-sick Heart,
Reliev'd the Malady, and cur'd the Smart:
Love and the faithless Sex he now defy'd,
And sobbing, like a School-Boy flogg'd, he cry'd;
“Alas! (said he) that I shou'd be so blind,
“Not to consider, fickle Womankind,
“Like Weather-Cocks, are light, and veering with the Wind.
“Down will I go to Satan's Darksom Cell,
“Thence will I fetch Revenge, if there's Revenge in Hell.

It happen'd, as he Ruminating stood,
An early Vulcan in the Neighbourhood
Ply'd at his Forge,—across the Street he went,
And quickly reach'd the smoky Tenement;
He, forming Plough-shares, on the Anvil beat,
Mid-day Repast to earn by Morning-Sweat;
At Gervase's he knock'd, who answer'd strait;
One open'd, and one stooping pass'd the Gate.
“Friend Absolon, what makes you up so soon?
“Hast thou been Catterwawling by the Moon?
“Some bonny Lass (I trow) or Damsel bright
“Has to thy wanton Fiddle danc'd all Night.
Busy in Thought, revolving oft his Wrong,
His stifl'd Words within ne're reach'd his Tongue:
He from the Distaff had more Flax to draw
Of finer Thread than what good Gervase saw:
Moody he frown'd, refus'd to tell his Case,
But ask'd the Culter for a little Space,
That sparkl'd in the Forge, a glowing Mass.
Quoth Smutty-Face, “To gratify a Friend,
“I wou'd not, tho' 'twas Gold, refuse to lend;
“But—prithee say—on what Design you borrow:
“Ask me not now,—I'll tell thee more To Morrow.
Pleas'd with the Grant, his eager Gripe laid hold
Fast on the Culter, where the Steel was cold,
Then with impatient Strides began to steal
Tow'rds Antique John's more aged Citadel.
Thither arriv'd, he nimbly patter'd o're
The rattling Casement, as he did before;
But first he cough'd, and hem'd,—sure Signs to know
When an impatient Lover waits below.

She heard, and hearing thus her self express't;
“What Vagabond that thus disturbs my Rest?
“Some Midnight Robber sent on vile Design,
“Feloniously attempting to purloin
“My Husband's best Commodities—his Wife, and Coyn.
Soft he reply'd—“'Tis I—and I alone.
“You!—who are You?—I am thine Absolon:
“I here present thee with a precious Thing,
“My Mother's Gift, a fair Enamel'd Ring
“Of well-wrought Gold—I'll freely give thee this,
“And give it only for another Kiss.

Nich'las was from the tumbl'd Blankets got,
From using of the Wife, to use the Pot;
And to promote the Jest, and mend the Story,
Swore he shou'd kiss him—à Posteriori;
Then up he climbs, and thro' the Window launches
His mounted Cannon-bore quite to the Haunches.
Quoth Absolon,—“My precious Sweet, my Heart,
“Speak, Dearest, speak; I know not where thou art.
Nich'las full-charg'd, in loud Return let fly
A Bomb, that burst like Thunder from the Sky;
The Sulph'rous Exhalation from behind,
Blasted the Sight, and almost struck him blind;
The other stood prepar'd with Iron hot,
And Nich'las on the Fundamentals smote.
Off goes the Skin a full Hand's Breadth, or more,
The Patient with the Blow tormented sore,
For Anguish of the Smart began to roar;
Furious he rag'd, confounded at the Matter,
“Help—Water, loud he cry'd,—“Help—Water, Water.
The Husband starting from his Slumber rose,
And in Confusion quitted his Repose;
Now comes the Flood, thought he,—sans more ado
He snatch'd his Ax, and cut the Cord a-two.
Descending—down he fell;—and tumbling down,
Lay breathless on the Pavement in a Swoon;
The Lovers start from their polluted Sheets,
And yelling Murder cry about the Streets.
In Flocks the Neighbours scamper'd far and near;
With stupid Eyes, and gaping Wonder stare
Upon the poor deluded Carpenter.
Men, Women, Dogs, and Boys together ran,
And stood agast to see him look so wan;
Scholars and Cits—the Wise and the Wisacres,
Wives with their Cuckolds, and their Cuckoldmakers.
So sore the Fall, that in Precipitation
Some Bones were broke, some suffer'd Dislocation;
In vain he pleaded in his own Defence,
The Wife and Scholar form'd some sham Pretence,
And jointly ran him down with frontless Impudence;
Bant'ring the Neighbours that around him stood,
He entertain'd such Whims of Noah's Flood,
Notions so wild, fantastick, and so vain
They made him frantick, and had crack'd his Brain.
For this Three Kneading-Troughs aloft he hung,
For this all Night aloft he dangling swung,
And by Intreaties long prevail'd, that we
Wou'd kindly Sit with him for Company.
Upward they gape into the Roof, and there
Espy Two Vessels waving in the Air.
Soon the Sagacious Mob his Foible found,
They sneer'd in Consort, and the Laugh went round;
They laugh'd the more, the more he did protest,
And lightly turn'd his Earnest into Jest:
The sober Plea, his Reason offer'd, went
For Bedlam-Proof, and Moorfield Argument:
In Ridicule Confed'rate Scholars join,
For well they smok'd the Jocular Design;
Brother to Brother's bound by mutual Laws,
There's Party Laugh, as well as Party-Cause.
Hence in a Moment was the Story known,
And he a Madman deem'd thro' all the Town.

Thus Nich'las all Night clasp'd the wanton Dame,
And the Good Wife had Plenty of that Same;
Spruce Absolon was bilkt of his Desire,
One Jilted was, and One felt Ordeal Fire.
Night made our Vocal Sternhold misapply,
And Kiss prepost'rously her Nether Eye.
The Gown's-Man he his Clergy claim'd, and so
Was only branded on the Cheek below.
As for the Clerk I leave him to resent,
The injur'd Husband to his Discontent,
The Philomath and Wife for ever to repent.