University of Virginia Library

Your deep Observers of Mankind,
Assure us constantly they find
A strong Propensity of Nature,
Rooted in every human Creature,
To do what otherwise they would not,
When once forbid, because they should not.
This Inclination, so perverse,
Is laid by Partridge on the Stars.
Your Rakes, with Floods of Elocution,
Charge it on Chance, or Constitution:
And out-of-fashion Folks believe
It sprung from Adam and from Eve.
But tho' your Wits dispute about it,
The Fact itself was never doubted.
This Truth t' illustrate, I have chosen
One common Story from a Thousand.
Let Criticks at the Fable quarrel,
There's no Exception to the Moral.

In Days of Yore (no need to show
How many hundred Years ago)
A Pair there flourish'd, free from Strife,
Who liv'd, indeed, like Man and Wife:
Her Temper mild and sweet, abhor'd
To scold and wrangle at her Board;
When in a Fault her Spouse she found,
She rarely, very rarely, frown'd.
In short, she gave him not occasion
For half the Trouble and Vexation,
Which many a Hen-peck'd-keeping Varlet
Endures most meekly from his Harlot.

Next Door a Captain chanc'd to shine,
Whose Clothes and Equipage were fine;
A young and well-accomplish'd Heir,
Of gentle Blood, and Fortune fair;
For ever at the Ladies Call,
To deal the Cards, or lead the Ball;
To 'Squire them to the Church or Play,
And Sense or Nonsense sing or say.
This Youth sometimes occasion'd Pain
In our too happy Husband's Brain;
Yet of himself asham'd, with Care
He kept his Dreams from taking Air,
Else every Gossip in the Town
Had rose in Arms, and fac'd him down,
She never knew in all her Life
A Dame more virtuous than his Wife.

Before the Wight was wholly freed
From these Disorders in his Head,
Such Business call'd him from his House
As scarce gave time to tell his Spouse;
He would have instantly been gone,
As being old enough, alone,
But she, good Woman! durst not send him
Without a Servant to attend him:
She kindly begs him not to stay,
When Business was dispatch'd, a Day.
He promises, when in his Pow'r,
He would not absent be an Hour.

Soon as conveniently they can,
Up mounts the Master and the Man;
When once set out, they travell'd fast;
Yet e'er they half a Mile had past,
His Jealousy began to rise,
Thought he, as being deadly wise,
This Captain now, behind my back,
Addresses to my Wife will make:
'Tis true, I sha'n't continue long,
But She is Fair, and He is Young;
And if it once be done, 'tis plain
It ne'er can be undone again.
I own I never yet could find
Her Heart to Gallantry inclin'd;
But then in such a Case, a Man
Can hardly be too careful—John,
Go, bid your Mistress keep at Home,
Nor see the Captain 'till I come.
John gallops back, but on his Way,
Thus, with himself, began to say,
And pray, where is it I am going?
And, what Fool's Errand am I doing?
To make my Mistress, for her Life,
A faithless, or a scolding Wife?
At best she'll wonder what he ails,
And fancy I've been telling Tales;
Tho' she is yet, I dare be sworn,
As blameless as the Babe unborn;
Perhaps to be forbid may tempt one,
To wish for what one never dreamt on.
I'll carry no such Message home,
To cause my Master's Cuckoldom.
Thus fearful of foreseen Disaster,
And much discreeter than his Master,
Resolv'd full sagely, back he came,
And frighted heartily the Dame,
Who thought her Lord had come to Harm,
And broke at least a Leg or Arm;
For John made twenty Hum's, and Ha's,
When question'd what the matter was.
He was not like your Servants now,
But of Invention dull and slow;
He could not hammer out a Lie:
The Lady stood impatient by;
What ails your Master? Tell me quick.
He begs you would not—Can't you speak?
Not ride the Mastiff' till you see him;
What! does the Fellow rave or dream?
You are not sure 'twas all he said.
Yes, indeed, Madam—Is he mad?
Not ride the Mastiff! What a Whim!
Who ever thought of riding him?
Go back again from me, and pray,
Desire he'd let you with him stay,
Or find some wiser Message, John,
Hereafter to employ you on.

He went; and Mother Nature now
In Madam's Breast began to glow:
She mus'd; but still the more she thought,
The less she found the Meaning out.
Not ride the Mastiff! Could it be,
Merely to try his Sov'reignty,
When from her very Wedding-Day,
She ne'er was known to disobey?
There must be something in't to make
Him send a Servant posting back.
She never heard of it before
Perhaps the Maids might tell her more;
For Maids, or those that bear the Name,
May sometimes teach a wedded Dame.
She thought the emptiest of the Two
Would soonest blab out all she knew;
But Betty never Touser rid,
Nor heard of any one that did.
Vex'd at her asking such a Ninny,
She sends her down to call up Jenny;
But slyer Jane could tell no more
Than simpler Betty did before;
But star'd with all the Eyes she had,
And thought her Mistress drunk or mad,
Who begg'd, and storm'd, and begg'd again,
Yet Prayers and Threatnings were in vain;
She might as easily have sought
To sound the Bottom of a Plot;
Or, tho' a Woman, ta'en Occasion
T' enquire the Secret of Free-mason,
And how, as Mystick Lodge supposes,
Duke Wharton can succeed to Moses.
No Diligence there wanting was,
Yet so deplorable her Case,
Through Servants obstinate Denial,
Nothing was left her but a Trial.
Who should the secret Fact betray?
One Word herself she would not say;
What no one saw who should reveal?
For sure the Mastiff could not tell.
Resolv'd at length, she calls him to her,
And shutting carefully the Door,
She clap'd his Head, and strok'd his Side;
'Twas now no more than up and ride.
Fast by his Neck she held, and thus
Mounted her strange Bucephalus;
Nor found it difficult to get,
Without a Stirrup, to her Seat.

Touser, unus'd to be bestrode,
Groan'd sorely at the wicked Load,
And strove all Ways to disencumber
His burden'd Shoulders of their Lumber;
Rear'd, and curvetted, and in fume,
Trotted and gallop'd round the Room.
But she, who now or never thought
To find her Husband's Meaning out,
Firm, though without a Saddle, sat,
And clung as closely as a Cat.
But Fortune often spoils the Course,
Whether we ride on Dog or Horse;
Under a Table crept her Steed,
Threw her, and broke her addle Head.

Enrag'd and surly, up she got,
Rail'd at her Husband for a Sot.
When he return'd, She kept her State,
Nor stirr'd to meet him at the Gate.
Up Stairs he went, and found her ill,
Silent, she frown'd, and sullen still;
But could not Scolding long refrain,
Or take it in Poetick Strain:
At length the Cloud that lowring hung,
Burst into Thunder of her Tongue;
Like Lightning's Flash her Eye appears,
And rain fell plenteous in her Tears.
See—what you made the Mastiff do!
Did ever any Man but you—
And on she went; but there's no need
Of punctual telling all she said,
An Extract may suffice: The Dame
Full on her Husband turn'd the Blame.
Stark staring mad, he, to forbid it!
She, a poor Innocent, that did it.

The Man, who knew not what was done,
Ran down amaz'd, and fell on John.
Sirrah! what makes your Mistress rave?
What was the Message that you gave;
To break my Wife's Head? John reply'd,
I bid her not the Mastiff ride.
The Master furious 'gan to look,
John beg'd one Word before he struck:
Sir, had I charg'd her in your Name,
To shun the Captain till you came,
Doubtless the case had been the same:
Her Forehead broke Your Brow secures,
Or else the Knobs had been on Your's.