The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer

modernis'd by several hands. Publsh'd by Mr. Oggle

Ogle, George (1704-1746)

VOL. I.

II.

VOL. II.

III.

VOL. III.

PROLOGUE TO THE Merchant's TALE.

January and May:

PROLOGUE TO THE Wife of Bath's Tale.

THE Desire of Woman:

PROLOGUE TO THE FRYAR's TALE.

THE Sumner and the Devil:

PROLOGUE TO THE Sumner's TALE.

THE Farmer and the Fryar:

PROLOGUE TO THE CLERK of Oxford's TALE.

GUALTHERUS and GRISELDA:

CONCLUSION TO THE CLERK of Oxford's TALE.

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

III. VOL. III.

PROLOGUE TO THE Merchant's TALE.

By Mr. OGLE.

Well clos'd! (The Merchant thus applauds the Squire)
Your Tale is full of Fancy and of Fire.
You show, (He adds) to say no more than Truth,
A most surprizing Genius, for a Youth.
To cloath each Image in it's proper Dress,
And to design as well as to express,
Inclines my sober Judgement to presage,
You will not find your Match in riper Age.
If but so long your Thread of Life be spun,
And you persist to end as You begun;
In Glory you must set (so Heav'n dispose
Your Future Fate) in Splendor as You rose.

Now by the Holy Trinity I swear,
Blest, cou'd I die this Hour, in such an Heir.
More Blest, than if this Hour I cou'd command
Ten Thousand Marks a-year, in solid Land.
Not that I want—some Fortune I have made—
And all the World esteems me rich in Trade.
But 'tis a Pain to live at large Expence,
For One, that Spirit wants as well as Sense.
Such is my Son! Whom, heartily I hate!
What, is the Man, (quoth I) not what, is his Estate?

It joy'd Me, when I turn'd Him Boy to School;
It griev'd me sore, when He return'd a Fool.
But Scholars flourish thro' a Lucky Sign;
And rare to meet, as Layman or Divine!
Well! Soldier He shall be. I bought Him Lace;
The Rest He had, a Person, and a Face!
And soon He learn'd the Military Art,
And soon He lost his Post, for Want of Heart!

This sham'd Me much, and robb'd Me of my Wife;
Love of my Youth! And Comfort of my Life!
I join'd Him then, my Commerce to attend;
He join'd Me, but to dissipate, and spend.
Now, that my Turn is Frugal, I admit;
Yet I am something gen'rous, for a Cit.
Plain as I go, or when I walk, or ride;
The Lord, that owes Me Money, gives me Pride.
And had I such a Son, as cou'd but write,
As Authors wrote; as Soldiers fought, wou'd fight;
Cit as I am, that Son I wou'd support.—
But Mine, will drink with Footmen of the Court.
With Knaves, at Dice, All I cou'd save, wou'd waste,
Nor knows one Man of Sense, or Man of Taste.

I doubt, not much is gain'd, (return'd our Host)
By that same Sense, and Taste, tho' much is lost.
But, Merchant, let me mind You of your Tale;
My Bill is drawn on Sight! You will not fail?

Not (quoth the Merchant) tho' You take Me hors'd,
Suppose it but accepted and indors'd.
The Squire will well excuse me what was said;
I only wish'd my Son, so turn'd, and bred!

In that (rejoin'd our Host) the Man is right;
But Cits grow tedious, as they grow Polite:
The Twine will break, too nicely that You spin.
Begin! Enough of this! Enough! Begin!—

The Merchant, then. Your Mandate I obey;
Sir Host! I hold you Sov'reign for the Day.
Gracious, receive, what humbly is addrest,
So pleasing One, I hope to please the Rest.

Yet grant Me, first to wail, if not atone,
A greater Ill; a Folly of my own!
For Store of Rancor, Malice, Spleen, and Spite,
Have I, from ev'ry Morn, to ev'ry Night!

No Peace at Table, and no Rest in Bed!
The Case of most, so hardy, as to wed;
For mine, I trow, is not a single Case:
Ev'n here are More, that wear the Marry'd Face.
Yet am I One of Those, supremely curst,
Plague'd with a Wife, of wicked Wives, the Worst!
Yok'd to the Fiend, the Foremost to rebel;
My Help-mate wou'd out-devil, the Devil in Hell.
To blame Her, here or there, wou'd be to wrong
The Compass of her Temper, or her Tongue!
Nor This, nor That, her special Vice I call;
Her, First, or Last! She is a Shrew at All!

Long is the Distance, and the Diff'rence wide,
'Twixt humble Grizild, and my haughty Bride!
Unfetter'd once, so may I trade and thrive,
As Nought shou'd teach my Heart again to wive.
Cage'd, soon as caught in the Connubial Snare,
We dance one Round of Slav'ry, and of Care.

Who takes a Wife, will find it to his Cost;
The Freedom, and the Ease of Life is lost.
Try, he that will, the Matrimonial State,
This, will He own a Truth, or soon, or late.
By holy Thomas, the good Saint of Inde,
Deceitful is the Sex; a slipp'ry Kind.
This, of the greater Part, I mean to say;
For One-and-All, wou'd be the Devil-to-pay!

Here, shou'd You ask me, my right honest Host,
How long since I was shipwreck'd on the Coast?
With this my Second Choice what Time has past?
(Peace to my First of Wives, for this my Last!)
How long? You scarce will take it on my Word,
Two Months are past, We enter on a Third.
For slightly here to touch, not fully paint,
This marry'd Fiend of an unmarry'd Saint,
Who caught me with the Farce of Love she play'd,
But singly priz'd me for my Stock in Trade;

This Scold of Mine, keeps one Eternal Round,
Sure, never Youth to Age in Wedlock bound,
In Course of Years indur'd such Noise and Strife!
Her Lesson of an Hour wou'd marr his Life!

We will not doubt your Word, (our Host reply'd.)
Yet some their Talents in a Napkin hide.
Now you that are a Master of the Art,
Conceal not all your Knowledge, but impart.

Sir, (says the Merchant) 'tis the Thing I mean!
The Thing You seek; a Matrimonial Scene!
Not that my proper Farce I will disclose,
But laugh, as Others laugh, at Other's Woes;
None but the Fool his own Concern reveals;
For Who feels Pain for what his Neighbour feels?

End of the Prologue.

January and May:

OR, THE MERCHANT's TALE.

By Mr. POPE.

There liv'd in Lombardy, as Authors write,
In Days of old, a wise and worthy Knight;
Of gentle Manners, as of gen'rous Race,
Bless'd with much Sense, more Riches, and some Grace.
Yet, led astray by Venus' soft Delights,
He scarce could rule some idle Appetites:
For long ago, let Priests say what they cou'd,
Weak, sinful Laymen were but Flesh and Blood.

But in due time, when sixty Years were o'er,
He vow'd to lead this vicious Life no more;
Whether pure Holiness inspir'd his Mind,
Or Dotage turn'd his Brain, is hard to find;

But his high Courage prick'd him forth to wed,
And try the Pleasures of a lawful Bed.
This was his nightly Dream, his daily Care,
And to the heav'nly Pow'rs his constant Pray'r,
Once, e're he dy'd, to taste the blissful Life
Of a kind Husband and a loving Wife.

These Thoughts he fortify'd with Reasons still,
(For none want Reasons to confirm their Will.)
Grave Authors say, and witty Poets sing,
That honest Wedlock is a glorious Thing:
But Depth of Judgment most in him appears,
Who wisely weds in his maturer Years.
Then let him chuse a Damsel, young and fair,
To bless his Age, and bring a worthy Heir;
To sooth his Cares, and free from Noise and Strife,
Conduct him gently to the Verge of Life.
Let sinful Bachelors their Woes deplore,
Full well they merit all they feel, and more:
Unaw'd by Precepts, human or divine,
Like Birds and Beasts promisc'ously they join:

Nor know to make the present Blessing last,
To hope the Future, or esteem the Past;
But vainly boast the Joys they never try'd,
And find divulg'd the Secrets they would hide.
The marry'd Man may bear his Yoke with Ease,
Secure at once himself and Heav'n to please;
And pass his inoffensive Hours away
In Bliss all Night, and Innocence all Day.
Tho' Fortune change, his constant Spouse remains,
Augments his Joys, or mitigates his Pains.

But what so pure, which envious Tongues will spare?
Some wicked Wits have libell'd all the Fair.
With matchless Impudence they style a Wife,
The dear-bought Curse, and lawful Plague of Life!
A Bosom-Serpent, a domestic Evil!
A Night-Invasion, and a Mid-Day Devil!
Let not the Wise these sland'rous Words regard,
But curse the Bones of ev'ry lying Bard.

All other Goods by Fortune's Hand are giv'n,
A Wife is the peculiar Gift of Heav'n:

Vain Fortune's Favours, never at a Stay,
Like empty Shadows, pass, and glide away;
One solid Comfort, our eternal Wife,
Abundantly supplies us all our Life:
This Blessing lasts (if those who try, say true)
As long as Heart can wish,—and longer too.

Our Grandsire Adam, e're of Eve possess'd,
Alone, and ev'n in Paradise unbless'd,
With mournful Looks the blissful Scenes survey'd,
And wander'd in the solitary Shade:
The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow'd
Woman, the last, the best Reserve of God.

A Wife! Ah, gentle Deities, can he,
That has a Wife e'er feel Adversity?
Would Men but follow what the Sex advise,
All things would prosper, all the World grow wise.
'Twas by Rebecca's Aid that Jacob won
His Father's Blessing from an elder Son:
Abusive Nabal ow'd his forfeit Life
To the wise Conduct of a prudent Wife:

Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,
Preserv'd the Jews, and slew th' Assyrian Foe:
At Hester's Suit the persecuting Sword
Was sheath'd, and Isr'el liv'd to bless the Lord.

These weighty Motives, January the sage
Maturely ponder'd in his riper Age;
And charm'd with virtuous Joys, and sober Life,
Would try that Christian Comfort call'd a Wife.
His Friends were summon'd on a Point so nice,
To pass their Judgment, and to give Advice;
But fix'd before, and well resolv'd was he:
(As Men that ask Advice, are wont to be.)

“My Friends, he cry'd (and cast a mournful Look
“Around the Room, and sigh'd before he spoke:)
“Beneath the Weight of threescore Years I bend,
“And, worn with Cares, am hast'ning to my End;
“How I have liv'd, alas! you know too well,
“In worldly Follies, which I blush to tell;
“But gracious Heav'n has op'd my Eyes at last,
“With due Regret I view my Vices past;

“And, as the Precept of the Church decrees,
“Will take a Wife, and live in holy Ease.
“But since by Counsel all things should be done,
“And many Heads are wiser still than one;
“Chuse you for me, who best shall be content,
“When my Desire's approv'd by your Consent.

“One Caution yet is needful to be told,
“To guide your Choice: This Wife must not be old.
“There goes a Saying, and 'twas shrewdly said,
“Old Fish at Table, but young Flesh in Bed.
“My Soul abhors the tastless, dry Embrace
“Of a stale Virgin with a Winter-Face:
“In that cold Season Love but treats his Guest
“With Bean-Straw, and tough Forage at the best.
“No crafty Widows shall approach my Bed;
“Those are too wise for Bachelors to wed;
“As subtile Clerks by many Schools are made,
“Twice-marry'd Dames are Mistresses o'th' Trade:
“But young and tender Virgins, rul'd with Ease,
“We form like Wax, and mold them as we please.

“Conceive me, Sirs, nor take my Sense amiss;
“'Tis what concerns my Soul's eternal Bliss;
“Since, if I found no Pleasure in my Spouse,
“As Flesh is frail, and who (God help me) knows?
“Then should I live in lewd Adultery,
“And sink downright to Satan when I die.
“Or, were I curs'd with an unfruitful Bed,
“The righteous End were lost, for which I wed;
“To raise up Seed to bless the Pow'rs above,
“And not for Pleasure only, or for Love.
“Think not I doat; 'tis time to take a Wife,
“When vig'rous Blood forbids a chaster Life:
“Those that are bless'd with Store of Grace divine,
“May live like Saints, by Heav'n's Consent and mine.

“And since I speak of Wedlock, let me say,
“(As, thank my Stars, in modest Truth I may)
“My Limbs are active; still I'm sound at Heart,
“And a new Vigour springs in ev'ry Part.
“Think not my Virtue lost, tho' Time has shed
“These rev'rend Honours on my hoary Head:

“Thus Trees are crown'd with Blossoms white as Snow,
“The vital Sap then rising from below:
“Old as I am, my lusty Limbs appear
“Like Winter-Greens, that flourish all the Year.
“Now, Sirs, you know to what I stand inclin'd;
“Let ev'ry Friend with Freedom speak his Mind.”

He said; the rest in diff'rent Parts divide,
The knotty Point was urg'd on either Side:
Marriage, the Theme on which they all declaim'd,
Some prais'd with Wit, and some with Reason blam'd.
Till, what with Proofs, Objections, and Replies,
Each wondrous positive, and wondrous wise,
There fell between his Brothers a Debate;
Placebo this was call'd, and Justin that.

First to the Knight Placebo thus begun
(Mild were his Looks, and pleasing was his Tone:
‘Such Prudence, Sir, in all your Words appears,)
‘As plainly proves, Experience dwells with Years:
‘Yet you pursue sage Solomon's Advice,
‘To work by Counsel when Affairs are nice:

‘But, with the Wiseman's leave, I must protest,
‘(So may my Soul arrive at Ease and Rest,
‘As still I hold your own Advice the Best.)

‘Sir, I have liv'd a Courtier all my Days,
‘And study'd Men, their Manners, and their Ways;
‘And have observ'd this useful Maxim still,
‘To let my Betters always have their Will.
‘Nay, if my Lord affirm'd that Black was White,
‘My Word was this, your Honour's in the Right.
‘Th' assuming Wit, who deems himself so Wise,
‘As his mistaken Patron to advise,
‘Let him not dare to vent his dang'rous Thought;
‘A noble Fool was never in a Fault.
‘This, Sir, affects not you, whose ev'ry Word
‘Is weigh'd with Judgment, and befits a Lord:
‘Your Will is mine; and is (I will maintain)
‘Pleasing to God, and should be so to Man;
‘At least, your Courage all the World must praise,
‘Who dare to wed in your declining Days.

‘Indulge the Vigour of your mounting Blood,
‘And let grey Fools be indolently good,
‘Who, past all Pleasure, damn the Joys of Sense
‘With rev'rend Dulness and grave Impotence.

Justin, who silent sate, and heard the Man,
Thus, with a Philosophic Frown, began:

‘A Heathen Author, of the first Degree,
‘(Who, tho' not Faith, had Sense as well as we)
‘Bids us be certain our Concerns to trust
‘To those of gen'rous Principles, and just.
‘The Venture's greater, I'll presume to say,
‘To give your Person, than your Goods away:
‘And therefore, Sir, as you regard your Rest,
‘First learn your Lady's Qualities at least:
‘Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil;
‘Meek as a Saint, or haughty as the Devil;
‘Whether an easy, fond, familiar Fool,
‘Or such a Wit as no man e'er can rule.
‘'Tis true, Perfection none must hope to find
‘In all this World, much less in Woman-kind;

‘But if her Virtues prove the larger Share,
‘Bless the kind Fates, and think your Fortune rare.
‘Ah, gentle Sir, take Warning of a Friend,
‘Who knows too well the State you thus commend;
‘And, spight of all his Praises, must declare,
‘All he can find is Bondage, Cost, and Care.
‘Heav'n knows, I shed full many a private Tear,
‘And sigh in Silence, lest the World should hear:
‘While all my Friends applaud my blissful Life,
‘And swear no Mortal's happier in a Wife;
‘Demure and chaste as any Vestal Nun,
‘The meekest Creature that beholds the Sun!
‘But, by th' immortal Pow'rs, I feel the Pain,
‘And he that smarts has Reason to complain.
‘Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,
‘And cautious sure; for Wisdom is in Age:
‘But at these Years, to venture on the Fair—
‘(By him, who made the Ocean, Earth, and Air,)
‘To please a Wife, when her Occasions call—
‘Would busy the most vig'rous of us all.

‘And trust me, Sir, the chastest you can chuse
‘Will ask Observance, and exact her Dues.
‘If what I speak my noble Lord offend,
‘My tedious Sermon here is at an End.

“'Tis well, 'tis wondrous well, the Knight replies,
“Most worthy Kinsman, faith you're mighty wise!
“We, Sirs, are Fools, and must resign the Cause
“To heath'nish Authors, Proverbs, and old Saws.
(He spoke with Scorn, and turn'd another way:—)
“What does my Friend, my dear Placebo say?

‘I say (quoth he) by Heav'n the Man's to blame,
‘To slander Wives, and Wedlock's holy Name.
At this, the Council rose without delay;
Each, in his own Opinion, went his way;
With full Consent, that all Disputes appeas'd,
The Knight should marry when and where he pleas'd.

Who now but January exults with Joy?
The Charms of Wedlock all his Soul employ:
Each Nymph by Turns his wav'ring Mind possess'd
And reign'd the short-liv'd Tyrant of his Breast;

While Fancy pictur'd ev'ry lively Part,
And each bright Image wander'd o'er his Heart.
Thus, in some publick Forum fix'd on high,
A Mirror shows the Figures moving by;
Still one by one, in swift Succession, pass
The gliding Shadows o'er the polish'd Glass.
This Lady's Charms the nicest cou'd not blame,
But vile Suspicions had aspers'd her Fame;
That was with Sense, but not with Virtue, blest;
And one had Grace, that wanted all the rest.
Thus doubting long what Nymph he shou'd obey,
He fix'd at last upon the youthful May.
Her Faults he knew not, Love is always blind,
But ev'ry Charm revolv'd within his Mind:
Her tender Age, her Form divinely Fair!
Her easy Motion, her attractive Air!
Her sweet Behaviour, her enchanting Face!
Her moving Softness, and majestic Grace!

Much in his Prudence did our Knight rejoice,
And thought no Mortal could dispute this Choice:

Once more in haste he summon'd ev'ry Friend,
And told them all, their Pains were at an end:
“Heav'n, that (said he) inspir'd me first to wed,
“Provides a Consort worthy of my Bed;
“Let none oppose th' Election, since on this
“Depends my Quiet, and my future Bliss.

“A Dame there is, the Darling of my Eyes,
“Young, Beauteous, Artless, Innocent and Wise;
“Chaste, tho' not Rich, and tho' not nobly Born,
“Of honest Parents, and may serve my turn.
“Her will I wed, if gracious Heav'n so please;
“To pass my Age in Sanctity and Ease:
“And thank the Pow'rs, I may possess alone
“The lovely Prize, and share my Bliss with none!
“If you, my Friends, this Virgin can procure,
“My Joys are full, my Happiness is sure.

“One only Doubt remains: Full oft' I've heard,
“By Casuists grave, and deep Divines averr'd;
“That 'tis too much for human Race to know
“The Bliss of Heav'n above, and Earth below.

“Now should the nuptial Pleasures prove so great,
“To match the Blessings of the future State,
“Those endless Joys were ill exchang'd for these;
“Then clear this Doubt, and set my Mind at Ease.

This Justin heard; nor could his Spleen controul,
Touch'd to the Quick, and tickled at the Soul.
‘Sir Knight (he cry'd) if this be all your Dread,
‘Heav'n put it past your Doubt, whene'er you wed;
‘And to my fervent Pray'rs so far consent,
‘That, e're the Rites are o'er, you may repent!
‘Good Heav'n, no doubt, the nuptial State approves,
‘Since it chastises still what best 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 Wish your Happiness delay,
‘But prove the Scourge to lash you on your Way:
‘Then to the Skies your mounting Soul shall go,
‘Swift as an Arrow soaring from the Bow.

‘Provided still, you moderate your Joy,
‘Nor in your Pleasures all your Might employ:
‘Let Reason's Rule your strong Desires abate,
‘Nor please too lavishly your gentle Mate.
‘Old Wives there are, of Judgment most acute,
‘Who solve these Questions beyond all Dispute;
‘Consult with those, and be of better Chear;
‘Marry, do Penance, and dismiss your Fear.

So said, they rose, nor more the Work delay'd;
The Match was offer'd, the Proposals made.
The Parents, you may think, would soon comply;
The Old have Int'rest ever in their Eye.
Nor was it hard to move the Lady's Mind:
When Fortune favours, still the Fair are kind.

I pass each previous Settlement and Deed,
Too long for me to write, or you to read:
Nor will with quaint Impertinence display
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 Pow'rs the fruitful Bed to bless,
And made all sure enough with Holiness.

And now the Palace-Gates are open'd wide;
The Guests appear in Order, Side by Side,
And plac'd in State the Bridegroom and the Bride.
The breathing Flute's soft Notes are heard around,
And the shrill Trumpets mix their Silver Sound;
The vaulted Roofs with echoing Musick ring,
These touch the vocal Stops, and those the trembling String.
Not thus Amphion tun'd the warbling Lyre,
Nor Joab the sounding Clarion could inspire;
Nor fierce Theodamas, whose sprightly Strain
Could swell the Soul to Rage, and fire the Martial Train.

Bacchus himself, the nuptial Feast to grace,
(So Poets sing) was present on the Place:
And lovely Venus, Goddess of Delight,
Shook high her flaming Torch in open Sight,
And danc'd around, and smil'd on ev'ry Knight:

Pleas'd her best Servant would his Courage try,
No less in Wedlock than in Liberty.
Full many an Age old Hymen had not spy'd
So kind a Bridegroom, or so bright a Bride.
Ye Bards! renown'd among the tuneful Throng
For gentle Lays, and joyous nuptial Song,
Think not your softest Numbers can display
The matchless Glories of this blissful Day;
The Joys are such, as far transcend your Rage,
When tender Youth has wedded stooping Age.

The beauteous Dame sate smiling at the Board,
And darted am'rous Glances at her Lord.
Not Hester's self, whose Charms the Hebrews sing,
E'er look'd so lovely on her Persian King:
Bright as the rising Sun, in Summer's Day,
And fresh and blooming as the Month of May!
The joyful Knight survey'd her by his Side,
Nor envy'd Paris with the Spartan Bride:
Still, as his Mind revolv'd with vast Delight,
Th' entrancing Raptures of th' approaching Night:

Restless he sate, invoking ev'ry Pow'r
To speed his Bliss, and haste the happy Hour.
Meantime the vig'rous Dancers beat the Ground,
And Songs were sung, and flowing Bowls went round;
With od'rous Spices they perfum'd the Place,
And Mirth and Pleasure shone in ev'ry Face.

Damian alone, of all the menial Train,
Sad in the midst of Triumphs, sigh'd for Pain;
Damian alone, the Knight's obsequious Squire,
Consum'd at Heart, and fed a secret Fire.
His lovely Mistress all his Soul possess'd;
He look'd, he languish'd, and could take no Rest:
His Task perform'd, he sadly went his way,
Fell on his Bed, and loath'd the Light of Day:
There let him lie, till his relenting Dame
Weep in her turn, and waste in equal Flame.

The weary Sun, as learned Poets write,
Forsook th' Horizon, and roll'd down the Light;
While glitt'ring Stars his absent Beams supply,
And Night's dark Mantle overspread the Sky.

Then rose the Guests; and, as the time requir'd,
Each paid his Thanks, and decently retir'd.

The Foe once gone, our Knight prepar'd t'undress,
So keen he was, and eager to possess:
But first thought fit th' Assistance to receive,
Which grave Physicians scruple not to give:
Satyrion near, with hot Eringo's, stood
Cantharides, to fire the lazy Blood;
Whose Use old Bards describe in luscious Rhymes,
And Critics learn'd explain to modern Times.

By this the Sheets were spread, the Bride undress'd,
The Room was sprinkl'd, and the Bed was bless'd.
What next ensu'd, beseems not me to say;
'Tis sung, he labour'd till the dawning Day;
Then briskly sprung from Bed, with Heart so light,
As all were nothing he had done by Night;
And sipp'd his Cordial, as he sate upright:
He kiss'd his balmy Spouse with wanton Play,
And feebly sung a lusty Roundelay.

Then on the Couch his weary Limbs he cast;
For ev'ry Labour must have Rest at last.

But anxious Cares the pensive Squire oppress'd,
Sleep fled his Eyes, and Peace forsook his Breast;
The raging Flames that in his Bosom dwell,
He wanted Art to hide, and Means to tell.
Yet hoping Time th' Occasion might betray,
Compos'd a Sonnet to the lovely May;
Which writ, and folded with the nicest Art,
He wrapp'd in Silk, 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 Side.
High Mass was sung; they feasted in the Hall;
The Servants round stood ready at their Call.
The Squire alone was absent from the Board,
And much his Sickness griev'd his worthy Lord,
Who pray'd his Spouse, attended by her Train,
To visit Damian, and divert his Pain.

Th' obliging Dames obey'd with one Consent;
They left the Hall, and to his Lodging went.
The Female Tribe surround him as he lay,
And close beside him sate the gentle May:
Where, as she try'd his Pulse, he softly drew
A speaking Sigh, and cast a mournful View;
Then gave his Bill, and brib'd the Pow'rs divine
With secret Vows, to favour his Design.

Who studies now, but discontented May?
On her soft Couch uneasily she lay:
The lumpish Husband snoar'd away the Night,
Till Coughs awak'd him near the Morning-Light.
What then he did, I not presume to tell,
Nor if she thought herself in Heav'n or Hell:
Honest and dull in nuptial Bed they lay,
Till the Bell toll'd, and all arose to pray.

Were it by forceful Destiny decreed,
Or did from Chance, or Nature's Pow'r proceed;
Or that some Star, with Aspect kind to Love,
Shed its selectest Infl'ence from above;

Whatever was the Cause, the tender Dame
Felt the first Motions of an infant Flame;
Receiv'd th' Impressions of the Love-sick Squire,
And wasted in the soft infectious Fire.

Ye Fair, draw near, let May's Example move
Your gentle Minds to pity those who love!
Had some fierce Tyrant in her Stead been found,
The poor Adorer, sure, had hang'd or drown'd;
But she, your Sex's Mirrour, free from Pride,
Was much too meek to prove a Homicide.

But, to my Tale: Some Sages have defin'd
Pleasure the sov'reign Bliss of Human-kind:
Our Knight (who study'd much, we may suppose)
Deriv'd his high Philosophy 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 spacious Garden, made to yield to none,
Was compass'd round with Walls of solid Stone:

Priapus could not half describe the Grace
(Tho' God of Gardens) of this charming Place:
A Place to tire the rambling Wits of France
In long Descriptions, and exceed Romance;
Enough to shame the gentlest Bard that sings
Of painted Meadows, and of purling Springs.

Full in the Center of the flow'ry Ground,
A Crystal Fountain spread its Streams around,
The fruitful Banks with verdant Laurels crown'd:
About this Spring (if ancient Fame says true)
The dapper Elves their Moon-light Sports pursue;
Their pigmy King, and little Fairy Queen,
In circling Dances gambol'd on the Green,
While tuneful Sprites a merry Concert made,
And airy Music warbled thro' the Shade.

Hither the noble Knight would oft' repair,
(His Scene of Pleasure, and peculiar Care)
For this he held it dear, and always bore
The Silver Key that lock'd the Garden-Door.

To this sweet Place, in Summer's sultry Heat,
He us'd from Noise and Bus'ness to retreat;
And here in Dalliance spend the live-long Day,
Solus cum sola, with his sprightly May.
For, whate'er Work was undischarg'd a-bed,
The duteous Knight in this fair Garden sped.

But ah! what Mortal lives of Bliss secure?
How short a Space our worldly Joys endure!
O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach'rous Kind,
But faithless still, and wav'ring as the Wind!
O painted Monster! form'd Mankind to cheat
With pleasing Poison, and with soft Deceit!
This rich, this am'rous, venerable Knight,
Amidst his Ease, his Solace, and Delight,
Struck blind by Thee, resigns his Days to Grief,
And calls on Death, the Wretch's last Relief.

The Rage of Jealousy then seiz'd his Mind;
For much he fear'd the Faith of Womankind.

His Wife, not suffer'd from his Side to stray,
Was Captive kept; he watch'd her Night and Day,
Abridg'd her Pleasures, and confin'd her Sway.
Full oft in Tears did hapless May complain,
And sigh'd full oft; but sigh'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 less Impatience vex'd her am'rous Squire,
Wild with Delay, and burning with Desire.
Watch'd as she was, yet could he not refrain
By secret Writing to disclose his Pain:
The Dame by Signs reveal'd her kind Intent,
Till both were conscious what each other meant.

Ah, gentle Knight! what would thy Eyes avail,
Tho' they could see as far as Ships can sail?
'Tis better sure, when blind, deceiv'd to be,
Than be deluded when a Man can see.

Argus himself, so cautious and so wise,
Was over-watch'd, for all his hundred Eyes:

So many an honest Husband may, 'tis known,
Who, wisely, never thinks the Case 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' Impression to the trusty Squire.
By means of this, some Wonder shall appear,
Which in due Place and Season you may hear.

Well sung sweet Ovid in the Days of yore,
What Slight is that which Love will not explore?
And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly shew,
The Feats true Lovers, when they list, can do:
Tho' watch'd and captive, yet, in spite of all,
They found the Art of kissing thro' a Wall.

But now no longer from our Tale to stray;
It happ'd, that once upon a Summer's Day,
Our rev'rend Knight was urg'd to am'rous Play:
He rais'd his Spouse, e're Matin-Bell was rung,
And thus his Morning-Canticle he sung:

“Awake, my Love, disclose thy radiant Eyes;
“Arise, my Wife, my beauteous Lady, rise!
“Hear how the Doves with pensive Notes complain,
“And in soft Murmurs tell the Trees their Pain;
“The Winter's past; the Clouds and Tempests fly;
“The Sun adorns the Fields, and brightens all the Sky.
“Fair without Spot, whose ev'ry charming Part
“My Bosom wounds, and captivates my Heart:
“Come, and in mutual Pleasures let's engage,
“Joy of my Life, and Comfort of my Age.’

This heard, to Damian strait a Sign she made,
To haste before; the gentle Squire obey'd:
Secret, and undescry'd, he took his Way,
And ambush'd close behind an Arbour lay.

It was not long e're January came,
And Hand in Hand with him his lovely Dame:
Blind as he was, not doubting all was sure,
He turn'd the Key, and made the Gate secure.

“Here let us walk (he said) observ'd by none,
“Conscious of Pleasures to the World unknown:

“So may my Soul have Joy, as thou, my Wife,
“Art far the dearest Solace of my Life;
“And rather would I chuse, by Heav'n above,
“To die this instant, than to lose thy Love.
“Reflect what Truth was in my Passion shown,
“When unendow'd, I took thee for my own,
“And sought no Treasure, but thy Heart alone.
“Old as I am, and now depriv'd of Sight,
“While thou art faithful to thy own true Knight,
“Nor Age, nor Blindness rob me of Delight.
“Each other Loss with Patience I can bear,
“The Loss of Thee is what I only fear.

“Consider then, my Lady, and my Wife,
“The solid Comforts of a virtuous Life.
“As first, the Love of Christ himself you gain;
“Next, your own Honour undefil'd maintain;
“And lastly, that which sure your Mind must move,
“My whole Estate shall gratify your Love:
“Make your own Terms, and e're to-morrow's Sun
“Displays his Light, by Heav'n it shall be done.

“I seal the Contract with an holy Kiss,
“And will perform, by this—my Dear, and this—
“Have Comfort, Spouse, nor think thy Lord unkind;
“'Tis Love, not Jealousy, that fires my Mind.
“For when thy Charms my sober Thoughts engage,
“And join'd to them my own unequal Age;
“From thy dear Side I have no Pow'r to part,
“Such secret Transports warm my melting Heart.
“For who, that once possess'd those heav'nly Charms,
“Could live one Moment absent from thy Arms'?

He ceas'd; and May, with modest Grace reply'd,
(Weak was her Voice, as while she spoke she cry'd:)

‘Heav'n knows, (with that, a tender Sigh she drew)
‘I have a Soul to save, as well as you;
‘And, what no less 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 sacred Band:
‘Yet after this, if you distrust my Care,
‘Then hear, my Lord, and witness what I swear:

‘First, may the yawning Earth her Bosom rend,
‘And let me hence to Hell alive descend;
‘Or die the Death I dread no less than Hell,
‘Sow'd in a Sack, and plung'd into a Well:
‘E're I my Fame by one lewd Act disgrace,
‘Or once renounce the Honour of my Race.
‘For know, Sir Knight, of gentle Blood I came;
‘I loath a Whore, and startle at the Name.
‘But jealous Men on their own Crimes reflect,
‘And learn from thence their Ladies to suspect:
‘Else, why these needless Cautions, Sir, to me?
‘These Doubts and Fears of Female Constancy?
‘This Chime still rings in ev'ry Lady's Ear,
‘The only Strain a Wife must hope to hear.”

Thus, while she spoke, a sidelong Glance she cast,
Where Damion kneeling, worshipp'd as she pass'd.
She saw him watch the Motions of her Eye,
And singled out a Pear-Tree planted nigh:
'Twas charg'd with Fruit that made a goodly Show,
And hung with dangling Pears was ev'ry Bough.

Thither th' obsequious Squire address'd his Pace,
And climbing, in the Summit took his place:
The Knight and Lady walk'd beneath in View,
Where let us leave them, and our Tale pursue.

'Twas now the Season, when the glorious Sun
His heav'nly Progress thro' the Twins had run;
And Jove, exalted, his mild Infl'ence yields,
To glad the Glebe, and paint the flow'ry Fields.
Clear was the Day, and Phœbus rising bright,
Had streak'd the azure Firmament with Light:
He pierc'd the glitt'ring Clouds with Golden Streams,
And warm'd the Womb of Earth with genial Beams.

It so befel, in that fair Morning-tide,
The Fairies sported on the Garden's Side,
And, in the midst, their Monarch and his Bride.
So featly tripp'd the light-foot Ladies round,
The Knights so nimbly o'er the Greensword bound,
That scarce they bent the Flow'rs, or touch'd the Ground.
The Dances ended, all the Fairy Train
For Pinks and Daisies search'd the flow'ry Plain;

While on a Bank reclin'd, of rising 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 thousand Authors have this Truth made out,
“And sad Experience leaves no room for Doubt.

“Heav'n rest thy Spirit, noble Solomon,
“A wiser Monarch never saw the Sun:
“All Wealth, all Honours, the supreme Degree
“Of earthly Bliss, was well bestow'd on Thee!
“For sagely hast thou said, Of all Mankind,
“One only just and righteous, hope to find.
“But, should'st thou search the spacious World around,
“Yet one good Woman is not to be found.

“Thus says the King who knew your Wickedness;
“The Son of Sirach testifies no less.
“So may some Wild-fire on your Bodies fall,
“Or some devouring Plague consume you all;
“As well you view the Leacher in the Tree,
“And well this honourable Knight you see:

“But since he's blind and old (a helpless Case!)
“His Squire shall cuckold him before your Face.

“Now, by my own dread Majesty I swear,
“And by this awful Sceptre which I bear,
“No impious Wretch shall 'scape unpunish'd long,
“That in my Presence offers such a Wrong.
“I will this Instant undeceive the Knight,
“And, in the very Act, restore his Sight;
“And set the Strumpet here in open View,
“A Warning to these Ladies, and to You,
“And all the faithless Sex, for ever to be true.

‘And will you so, reply'd the Queen, indeed?
‘Now, by my Mother's Soul, it is decreed,
‘She shall not want an Answer at her Need.
‘For her, and for her Daughters, I'll engage,
‘And all the Sex in each succeeding Age:
‘Art shall be theirs, to varnish an Offence,
‘And fortify their Crimes with Confidence.
‘Nay, were they taken in a strict Embrace,
‘Seen with both Eyes, and pinion'd on the Place;

‘All they shall need, is, to protest and swear,
‘Breathe a soft Sigh, and drop a tender Tear;
‘Till their wise Husbands, gull'd by Arts like these,
‘Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as Geese.

‘What tho' this sland'rous Jew, this Solomon,
‘Call'd Women Fools, and knew full many a one?
‘The wiser Wits of later Times declare,
‘How constant, chaste, and virtuous Women are:
‘Witness the Martyrs, who resign'd their Breath,
‘Serene in Torments, unconcern'd in Death:
‘And witness next, what Roman Authors tell,
‘How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.

‘But since the sacred Leaves to all are free,
‘And Men interpret Texts, why should not we?
‘By this, no more was meant, than to have shown,
‘That sov'reign Goodness dwells in Him alone,
‘Who only Is, and is but only One.
‘But grant the worst, shall Women then be weigh'd
‘By ev'ry Word that Solomon has said?

‘What tho' this King (as ancient Story boasts)
‘Built a fair Temple to the Lord of Hosts;
‘He ceas'd at last his Maker to adore,
‘And did as much for Idol-Gods, or more.
‘Beware that lavish Praises you confer
‘On a rank Leacher and Idolater;
‘Whose Reign indulgent God (says holy Writ)
‘Did but for David's righteous Sake permit;
‘David, the Monarch after Heav'n's own Mind,
‘Who lov'd our Sex, and honour'd all our Kind.

‘Well, I'm a Woman, and as such must speak;
‘Silence would swell me, and my Heart would break.
‘Know then, I scorn your dull Authorities,
‘Your idle Wits, and all their learned Lyes.
‘By Heav'n, those Authors are our Sex'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 since I gave my Oath,
“That this much-injur'd Knight again should see,
“It must be done—I am a King, said he,

“And one, whose Faith has ever sacred been.”

‘And so has mine (she said)—I am a Queen;
‘Her Answer she shall have, I undertake;
‘And thus an End of all Dispute I make.
‘Try when you list; and you shall find, my Lord,
‘It is not in our Sex to break our Word.’

We leave them here in this heroick Strain,
And to the Knight our Story turns again;
Who in the Garden, with his lovely May,
Sung merrier than the Cuckow or the Jay:
This was his Song, “Oh, kind and constant be;
“Constant and kind I'll ever prove to thee.

Thus singing as he went, at last he drew,
By easy 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 sighing: ‘Oh, good Gods, she cry'd,
‘What Pangs, what sudden Shoots distend my Side!
‘Oh, for the tempting Fruit, so fresh, so green;—
‘Help, for the Love of Heav'n's immortal Queen!

‘Help, dearest Lord, and save at once the Life
‘Of thy poor Infant, and thy longing Wife!

Sore sigh'd the Knight, to hear his Lady's Cry;
But could not climb, and had no Servant nigh:
Old as he was, and void of Eye-sight too,
What could, alas! the helpless 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 sweet Sake,
‘Vouchsafe the Trunk between your Arms to take;
‘Then from your Back I might ascend the Tree;
‘Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.

“With all my Soul (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 seiz'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, tho' not in Phrase refin'd;
Tho' blunt my Tale, yet honest is my Mind.

What Feats the Lady in the Tree might do,
I pass, as Gambols never known to you:
But sure, it was a merrier Fit, she swore,
Than in her Life she ever felt before.

In that nice Moment, lo! the wond'ring Knight
Look'd out, and stood restor'd to sudden Sight.
Strait on the Tree his eager Eyes he bent,
As one, whose Thoughts were on his Spouse intent;
But when he saw his Bosom-Wife so dress'd,
His Rage was such 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 dost thou do there?”

‘What ails my Lord? the trembling Dame reply'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 Pow'r of Magic prove?
‘Unhappy Wife, whose Crime was too much Love!

“If this be struggling, by this holy Light,
“'Tis struggling with a Vengeance (quoth the Knight.)
“So Heav'n preserve the Sight it has restor'd,
“As with these Eyes I plainly saw thee whor'd;
“Whor'd by my Slave—Perfidious Wretch! may Hell
“As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.

‘Guard me, good Angels! cry'd the gentle May,
‘Pray Heav'n, this Magic work the proper Way!
‘Alas, my Love! 'tis certain, could you see,
‘You ne'er had us'd these killing Words to me:
‘So help me, Fates, as 'tis no perfect Sight,
‘But some faint Glimm'ring of a doubtful Light.’

“What I have said (quoth he) I must maintain;
“For, by th' immortal Pow'rs, it seem'd too plain—
‘By all those Pow'rs, some Frenzy seiz'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 said; a rising Sigh express'd her Woe,
The ready Tears apace began to flow,
And as they fell, she wip'd from either Eye
The Drops (for Women, when they list, can cry.)

The Knight was touch'd, and in his Looks appear'd
Signs of Remorse, while thus his Spouse he chear'd:
“Madam, 'tis past, and my short Anger o'er;
“Come down, and vex your tender Heart no more:
“Excuse me, Dear, if aught amiss was said;
“For, on my Soul, Amends shall soon be made:
“Let my Repentance your Forgiveness draw;
“By Heav'n, I swore but what I thought I saw.”

‘Ah, my lov'd Lord! 'twas much unkind (she cry'd)
‘On bare Suspicion thus to treat your Bride.
‘But till your Sight's establish'd for a while,
‘Imperfect Objects may your Sense beguile.
‘Thus when from Sleep we first our Eyes display,
‘The Balls are wounded with the piercing Ray,
‘And dusky Vapours rise, and intercept the Day:

‘So just recov'ring from the Shades of Night,
‘Your swimming Eyes are drunk with sudden Light,
‘Strange Phantoms dance around, and skim before your Sight.

‘Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem;
‘Heav'n knows, how seldom Things are what they seem!
‘Consult your Reason, and you soon shall find,
‘'Twas You were jealous, not your Wife unkind:
‘Jove ne'er spoke Oracle more true than this,
‘None judge so wrong, as those who think amiss.

With that she leap'd into her Lord's Embrace,
With well-dissembled Virtue in her Face.
He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er and o'er,
Disturb'd with Doubts and Jealousies no more:
Both, pleas'd and bless'd, renew'd their mutual Vows,
A fruitful Wife, and a believing Spouse.

Thus ends our Tale, whose Moral next to make,
Let all wise Husbands hence Example take;
And pray, to crown the Pleasure of their Lives,
To be so well deluded by their Wives.

End of the Merchant's TALE.

PROLOGUE TO THE Wife of Bath's Tale.

By the same Hand.

Behold the Woes of Matrimonial Life,
And hear with Rev'rence 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 Scourge that caus'd the Smart:
For, since Fifteen, in Triumph have I led
Five captive Husbands from the Church to Bed.

Christ saw a Wedding once, the Scripture says,
And saw but one, 'tis thought, in all his Days:
Whence some infer, whose Conscience is too nice,
No pious Christian ought to marry twice.

But let them read, and solve me, if they can,
The Words address'd to the Samaritan.
Five times in lawful Wedlock she was join'd;
And sure the certain Stint was ne'er defin'd.

Increase and Multiply, was Heav'n's Command,
And that's a Text I clearly understand.
This too, Let Men their Sires and Mothers leave,
And to their dearer Wives for ever cleave.
More Wives than one by Solomon were try'd,
Or else the Wisest of Mankind's bely'd.
I've had myself full many a merry Fit;
And trust in Heav'n I may have many yet.
For when my transitory Spouse, unkind,
Shall die, and leave his woeful Wife behind,
I'll take the next good Christian I can find.

Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn,
Declar'd, 'twas better far to wed than burn.
There's Danger in assembling Fire and Tow;
I grant 'em that; and what it means, you know.

The same Apostle too has elsewhere own'd,
No Precept for Virginity he found:
'Tis but a Counsel—and we Women still
Take which we like, the Counsel, or our Will.

I envy not their Bliss, if he or she
Think fit to live in perfect Chastity;
Pure let them be, and free from Taint of Vice;
I, for a few slight Spots, am not so nice.
Heav'n calls us different Ways, on These bestows
One proper Gift, another grants to Those:
Not ev'ry Man's oblig'd to sell his Store,
And give up all his Substance to the Poor;
Such, as are perfect, may, I can't deny;
But, by your Leave, Divines, so am not I.

Full many a Saint, since first the World began,
Liv'd an unspotted Maid, in spite of Man:
Let such (a God's Name) with fine Wheat be fed,
And let us honest Wives eat Barley-bread.
For me, I'll keep the Post assign'd by Heav'n,
And use the copious Talent it has giv'n:

Let my good Spouse pay Tribute, do me Right,
And keep an equal Reck'ning ev'ry Night,
His proper Body is not his, but mine;
For so said Paul, and Paul's a sound Divine.

Know then, of those five Husbands I have had,
Three were just tolerable, two were bad.
The three were old, but rich and fond beside,
And toil'd most piteously to please their Bride:
But since their Wealth (the best they had) was mine,
The rest, without much Loss, I could resign.
Sure to be lov'd, I took no Pains to please,
Yet had more Pleasure far than they had Ease.

Presents flow'd in apace: with Show'rs of Gold
They made their Court, like Jupiter of old.
If I but smil'd, a sudden Youth they found,
And a new Palsy seiz'd them when I frown'd.

Ye sov'reign Wives! give ear, and understand;
Thus shall ye speak, and exercise Command.
For never was it giv'n to mortal Man,
To lye so boldly as a Woman can.

Forswear the Fact, tho' seen with both his Eyes,
And call her Maids to witness how he lyes.

‘Hark, old Sir Paul! ('twas thus I us'd to say)
‘Whence is our Neighbour's Wife so rich and gay?
‘Treated, caress'd, where-e'er she's pleas'd to roam?
‘I sit in Tatters, and immur'd at Home.
‘Why to her House dost thou so oft repair?
‘Art thou so am'rous? and is she so fair?
‘If I but see a Cousin, or a Friend,
‘Lord! how you swell, and rage like any Fiend!
‘But you reel Home, a drunken beastly Bear,
‘Then preach till Midnight in your easy Chair,
‘Cry, Wives are false, and ev'ry Woman evil,
‘And give up all that's Female to the Devil.

‘If poor, (you say) she drains her Husband's Purse;
‘If rich, she keeps her Priest, or something worse;
‘If highly born, intolerably vain,
‘Vapours and Pride by turn possess her Brain;
‘Now gayly mad, now sourly splenetick,
‘Freakish when well, and fretful when she's sick.

‘If fair, then chaste she cannot long abide,
‘By pressing Youth attack'd on ev'ry side.
‘If foul, her Wealth the lusty Lover lures,
‘Or else her Wit some Fool-gallant procures;
‘Or else she dances with becoming Grace,
‘Or Shape excuses the Defects of Face.
‘There swims no Goose so grey, but, soon or late,
‘She finds some honest Gander for her Mate.

‘Horses (thou say'st) and Asses, Men may try,
‘And ring suspected Vessels e'er they buy:
‘But Wives, a random Choice, untry'd they take,
‘They dream in Courtship, but in Wedlock wake:
‘Then, nor till then, the Veil's remov'd away,
‘And all the Woman glares in open Day.

‘You tell me, to preserve your Wife's good Grace,
‘Your Eyes must always languish on my Face;
‘Your Tongue with constant Flatt'ries feed my Ear,
‘And tag each Sentence with, My Life! my Dear!
‘If, by strange Chance, a modest Blush be rais'd,
‘Be sure my fine Complexion must be prais'd.

‘My Garments always must be new and gay,
‘And Feasts still kept upon my Wedding-Day.
‘Then must my Nurse be pleas'd, and fav'rite Maid;
‘And endless Treats, and endless Visits paid
‘To a long Train of Kindred, Friends, Allies;
‘All this thou say'st, and all thou say'st are Lyes.

‘On Jenkin too you cast a squinting Eye:
‘What! can your Prentice raise your Jealousy?
‘Fresh are his ruddy Cheeks, his Forehead fair,
‘And like the burnish'd Gold his curling Hair.
‘But clear thy wrinkled Brow, and quit thy Sorrow,
‘I'd scorn your Prentice, should you die to-morrow.

‘Why are thy Chests all lock'd? on what Design
‘Are not thy worldly Goods and Treasure mine?
‘Sir, I'm no Fool; nor shall you, by St. John,
‘Have Goods and Body to yourself alone;
‘One you shall quit, in spite of both your Eyes—
‘I heed not, I, the Bolts, the Locks, the Spies.
‘If you had Wit, you'd say, “Go where you will,
“Dear Spouse; I credit not the Tales they tell:

“Take all the Freedoms of a married Life;
“I know thee for a virtuous, faithful Wife.”

‘Lord, when you have enough, what need you care
‘How merrily soever others fare?
‘Tho' all the Day I give and take Delight,
‘Doubt not, sufficient will be left at Night,
‘'Tis but a just and rational Desire,
‘To light a Taper at a Neighbour's Fire.

‘There's Danger too, you think, in rich Array,
‘And none can long be modest that are gay;
‘The Cat, if you but sindge her tabby Skin,
‘The Chimney keeps, and sits content within;
‘But once grown sleek, will from her Corner run,
‘Sport with her Tail, and wanton in the Sun:
‘She licks her fair round Face, and frisks abroad,
‘To show her Furr, and to be catterwaw'd.’

Lo thus, my Friends, I wrought to my Desires
These three right-ancient venerable Sires.
I told 'em, Thus you say, and thus you do—
And told 'em false; but Jenkin swore 'twas true.

I, like a Dog, could bite as well as whine,
And first complain'd, whene'er the Guilt was mine.
I tax'd them oft with Wenching and Amours,
When their weak Legs scarce dragg'd 'em out of Doors;
And swore, the Rambles that I took by Night,
Were all to spy what Damsels they bedight.
That Colour brought me many Hours of Mirth;
For all this Wit is giv'n us from our Birth.
Heav'n gave to Woman the peculiar Grace
To spin, to weep, and cully human Race.
By this nice Conduct, and this prudent Course,
By Murm'ring, Wheedling, Stratagem, and Force,
I still prevail'd, and would be in the Right,
Or Curtain-Lectures made a restless Night.
If once my Husband's Arm was o'er my Side,
What! so familiar with your Spouse? I cry'd:
I levy'd first a Tax upon his Need;
Then let him—'twas a Nicety indeed!
Let all Mankind this certain Maxim hold,
Marry who will, our Sex is to be sold.

With empty Hands no Tassels can you lure;
But fulsome Love for Gain we can endure:
For Gold we love the Impotent and Old,
And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cling for Gold.
Yet with Embraces, Curses oft' I mixt;
Then kiss'd again, and chid and rail'd betwixt.
Well, I may make my Will in Peace, and die;
For not one Word in Man's Arrears am I.
To drop a dear Dispute I was unable,
Ev'n tho' the Pope himself had set at Table.
But when my Point was gain'd, then thus I spoke:
“Billy, my Dear, how sheepishly you look!
“Approach, my Spouse, and let me kiss thy Cheek;
“Thou should'st be always thus, resign'd and meek!
“Of Job's great Patience since so oft' you preach,
“Well should you practise, who so well can teach.
“'Tis difficult to do, I must allow;
“But I, my Dearest, will instruct you how.
“Great is the Blessing of a prudent Wife,
“Who puts a Period to domestic Strife.

“One of us two must rule, and one obey;
“And since in Man right Reason bears the Sway,
“Let that frail Thing, weak Woman, have her Way.
“The Wives of all my Family have rul'd
“Their tender Husbands, and their Passions cool'd.
“Fye, 'tis unmanly thus to sigh and groan;
“What! would you have me to yourself alone?
“Why, take me, Love! take all and ev'ry Part!
“Here's your Revenge! you love it at your Heart.
“Would I vouchsafe to sell what Nature gave,
“You little think what Custom I could have.
“But see! I'm all your own—nay, hold—for shame!
“What means my Dear—indeed—you are to blame.”

Thus with my first three Lords I pass'd my Life,
A very Woman, and a very Wife.
What Sums from these old Spouses I could raise,
Procur'd young Husbands in my riper Days.
Tho' past my Bloom, not yet decay'd was I,
Wanton and wild, and chatter'd like a Pye.

In Country-Dances still I bore the Bell,
And sung as sweet as Evening-Philomel.
To clear my Quail-Pipe, and refresh my Soul,
Full oft I drain'd the spicy Nut-brown Bowl;
Rich luscious Wines, that youthful Blood improve,
And warm the swelling Veins to Feats of Love:
For 'tis as sure, as Cold engenders Hail,
A liqu'rish Mouth must have a lech'rous Tail:
Wine lets no Lover unrewarded go,
As all true Gamesters by Experience know.

But oh, good Gods! whene'er a Thought I cast
On all the Joys of Youth and Beauty past,
To find in Pleasures I have had my Part,
Still warms me to the Bottom of my Heart.
This wicked World was once my dear Delight;
Now all my Conquests, all my Charms, good night!
The Flour consum'd, the best that now I can
Is e'en to make my Market of the Bran.

My fourth dear Spouse was not exceeding true:
He kept, 'twas thought, a private Miss, or two:

But all that Score I paid—as how? you'll say;
Not with my Body, in a filthy Way:
But I so dress'd, and danc'd, and drank, and din'd;
And view'd a Friend, with Eyes so very kind,
As stung his Heart, and made his Marrow fry
With burning Rage, and frantick Jealousy.
His Soul, I hope, enjoys eternal Glory;
For here on Earth I was his Purgatory.
Oft', when his Shoe the most severely wrung,
He put on careless Airs, and sat and sung.
How sore I gall'd him, only Heav'n could know,
And he that felt, and I that caus'd the Woe.
He dy'd, when last from Pilgrimage I came,
With other Gossips, from Jerusalem;
And now lies buried underneath a Rood,
Fair to be seen, and rear'd of honest Wood.
A Tomb, indeed, with fewer Sculptures grac'd,
Than that Mausolus' pious Widow plac'd;
Or where inshrin'd the great Darius lay;
But Cost on Graves is merely thrown away.

The Pit fill'd up, with Turf we cover'd o'er;
So, bless the good Man's Soul; I say no more.

Now for my fifth lov'd Lord, the last and best;
(Kind Heav'n afford him everlasting Rest)
Full hearty was his Love; and I can shew
The Tokens on my Ribs in Black and Blue:
Yet, with a Knack, my Heart he could have won,
While yet the Smart was shooting in the Bone.
How quaint an Appetite in Women reigns!
Free Gifts we scorn, and love what costs us Pains:
Let Men avoid us, and on them we leap;
A glutted Market makes Provision cheap.

In pure good Will I took this jovial Spark;
Of Oxford he, a most egregious Clerk.
He boarded with a Widow in the Town,
A trusty Gossip, one Dame Alison.
Full well the Secrets of my Soul she knew,
Better than e'er our Parish-Priest could do.
To her I told whatever could befall;
Had but my Husband piss'd against a Wall,

Or done a thing that might have cost his Life,
She—and my Niece—and one more worthy Wife,
Had known it all: What most he would conceal,
To these I made no scruple to reveal.
Oft' has he blush'd from Ear to Ear for Shame,
That e'er he told a Secret to his Dame.

It so befel, in holy Time of Lent,
That oft' a Day I to this Gossip went;
(My Husband, thank my Stars, was out of Town)
From House to House we rambled up and down,
This Clerk, my self, and my good Neighbour Alce,
To see, be seen, to tell, and gather Tales.
Visits to ev'ry Church we daily paid,
And march'd in ev'ry holy Masquerade;
The Stations duly, and the Vigils kept;
Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept.
At Sermons too I shone in Scarlet gay;
The wasting Moth ne'er spoil'd my best Array;
The Cause was this, I wore it ev'ry Day.

'Twas when fresh May her early Blossoms yields,
This Clerk and I were walking in the Fields.
We grew so intimate, I can't tell how,
I pawn'd my Honour, and engag'd my Vow,
If e'er I laid my Husband in his Urn,
That He, and only He, should serve my turn.
We strait struck Hands, the Bargain was agreed;
I still have Shifts against a Time of Need:
The Mouse that always trusts to one poor Hole,
Can never be a Mouse of any Soul.
I vow'd, I scarce could sleep since first I knew him,
And durst be sworn he had bewitch'd me to him;
If e'er I slept, I dream'd of him alone,
And Dreams foretel, as learned Men have shown:
All this I said; but Dream, Sirs, I had none:
I follow'd but my crafty Crony's Lore,
Who bid me tell this Lye—and twenty more.

Thus Day by Day, and Month by Month we past;
It pleas'd the Lord to take my Spouse at last.

I tore my Gown, I soil'd my Locks with Dust,
And beat my Breasts, as wretched Widows—must.
Before my Face my Handkerchief I spread,
To hide the Flood of Tears I did—not shed.
The good Man's Coffin to the Church was borne;
Around, the Neighbours, and my Clerk too mourn.
But as he march'd, good Gods! he shew'd a Pair
Of Legs and Feet, so clean, so strong, so fair!
Of twenty Winters Age he seem'd to be;
I (to say Truth) was twenty more than he:
But vig'rous still, a lively buxom Dame;
And had a wond'rous Gift to quench a Flame.
A Conj'rer once, that deeply could divine,
Assur'd me, Mars in Taurus was my Sign.
As the Stars order'd, such my Life has been:
Alas, alas, that ever Love was Sin!
Fair Venus gave me Fire, and sprightly Grace,
And Mars Assurance, and a dauntless Face.
By virtue of this pow'rful Constellation,
I follow'd always my own Inclination.

But to my Tale: A Month scarce pass'd away,
With Dance and Song we kept the nuptial Day.
All I possess'd, I gave to his Command,
My Goods and Chattels, Money, House and Land:
But oft' repented, and repent it still;
He prov'd a Rebel to my sov'reign Will:
Nay once, by Heav'n, he struck me on the Face;
Hear but the Fact, and judge yourselves the Case.

Stubborn as any Lioness was I;
And knew full well to raise my Voice on high;
As true a Rambler as I was before,
And would be so, in spite of all he swore.
He, against this right sagely would advise,
And old Examples set before my Eyes;
Tell how the Roman Matrons led their Life,
Of Gracchus' Mother, and Duilius' Wife;
And chose the Sermon, as beseem'd his Wit,
With some grave Sentence out of holy Writ.
Oft would he say, “Who builds his House on Sands,
“Pricks his blind Horse across the fallow Lands;

“Or lets his Wife abroad with Pilgrims roam,
“Deserves a Fool's Cap and long Ears at home.”
All this avail'd not: For whoe'er he be
That tells my Faults, I hate him mortally:
And so do Numbers more, I'll boldly say,
Men, Women, Clergy, Regular and Lay.

My Spouse (who was, you know, to Learning bred)
A certain Treatise oft' at Evening read;
Where divers Authors (whom the Dev'l confound
For all their Lyes) were in one Volume bound.
Valerius, whole; and of St. Jerome, part;
Chrysippus and Tertullian, Ovid's Art,
Solomon's Proverbs, Eloisa's Loves;
And many more than sure the Church approves.
More Legends were there here, of wicked Wives,
Than good, in all the Bible and Saints Lives.
Who drew the Lion vanquish'd? 'Twas a Man.
But could we Women write as Scholars can,
Men should stand mark'd with far more Wickedness,
Than all the Sons of Adam could redress.

Love seldom haunts the Breast where Learning lies,
And Venus sets e're Mercury can rise.
Those play the Scholars who can't play the Men,
And use that Weapon which they have, their Pen;
When old, and past the Relish of Delight,
Then down they sit, and in their Dotage write,
That not one Woman keeps her Marriage-Vow.
(This by the way, but to my Purpose now.)

It chanc'd, my Husband, on a Winter's Night,
Read in this Book aloud, with strange Delight,
How the first Female (as the Scriptures show)
Brought her own Spouse and all his Race to Woe;
How Sampson fell; and he whom Dejanire
Wrapp'd in th' invenom'd Shirt, and set on fire;
How curs'd Eryphile her Lord betray'd,
And the dire Ambush Clytemnestra laid.
But what most pleas'd him, was the Cretan Dame,
And Husband-Bull—oh monstrous! fie for shame!

He had by heart the whole Detail of Woe
Xantippe made her good Man undergo.

How oft' she scolded in a Day, he knew,
How many Piss-pots on the Sage she threw;
Who took it patiently, and wip'd his Head;
Rain follows Thunder, that was all he said.

He read, how Arius to his Friend complain'd,
A fatal Tree was growing in his Land,
On which three Wives successively had twin'd
A sliding Noose, and waver'd in the Wind.
“Where grows this Plant (reply'd the Friend) oh where?
“For better Fruit did never Orchard bear:
“Give me some Slip of this most blissful Tree,
“And in my Garden planted shall it be.”

Then how two Wives their Lord's Destruction prove,
Thro' Hatred one, and one thro' too much Love;
That for her Husband mix'd a pois'nous Draught,
And This, for Lust an am'rous Philtre bought;
The nimble Juice soon seiz'd his giddy Head,
Frantick at Night, and in the Morning dead.

How some with Swords their sleeping Lords have slain,
And some have hammer'd Nails into their Brain;

And some have drench'd them with a deadly Potion;
All this he read, and read with great Devotion.

Long time I heard, and swell'd, and blush'd, and frown'd;
But when no End of these vile Tales I found,
When still he read, and laugh'd, and read again,
And half the Night was thus consum'd in vain;
Provok'd to Vengeance, three large Leaves I tore,
And with one Buffet fell'd him on the Floor.
With that, my Husband in a Fury rose,
And down he settled me with hearty Blows.
I groan'd, and lay extended on my Side;
‘Oh! thou hast slain me for my Wealth (I cry'd)
‘Yet I forgive thee—take my last Embrace—’
He wept, kind Soul! and stoop'd to kiss my Face;
I took him such a Box as turn'd him blue,
Then sigh'd, and cry'd, ‘Adieu, my Dear, adieu!’

But after many a hearty Struggle past,
I condescended to be pleas'd at last.
Soon as he said, “My Mistress and my Wife,
“Do what you list, the Term of all your Life;”

I took to Heart the Merits of the Cause,
And stood content to rule by wholsome Laws;
Receiv'd the Reins of absolute Command,
With all the Government of House and Land,
And Empire o'er his Tongue, and o'er his Hand.
As for the Volume that revil'd the Dames,
'Twas torn to Fragments, and condemn'd to Flames.

Now Heav'n on all my Husbands gone, bestow
Pleasures above, for Tortures felt below:
That Rest, they wish'd for, grant them in the Grave,
And bless those Souls my Conduct help'd to save.

The Point thus settled, from Objection clear,
Now will I tell my Tale, if you will hear.

Here, interrupting, laugh'd the rosy Fry'r;
“So may my Soul to Heav'nly Bliss aspire,
“Nor yet of Earthly Good my Body fail,
“As 'twas a long Preamble of a Tale.”

He said, and chuckled at his Speech so smart.
This heard the Sumner, nettled to the Heart,
Mad to observe his Brother Leech in Glee;
For rarely two of any Trade agree.
“Now, by the Arms that hung our Souls to save,
“A Fry'r is still an intermeddling Knave:
“For, like a Fly, he falls in ev'ry Dish,
“Be it or Roast, or Boil'd, or Fowl, or Fish:
“Why stop the Lady in her pleasant Gambole?
“And what to thee the Length of her Preamble?
“Keep on the Right, or Left, behind, before,
“Peace, Son of a Mendicant! Peace, Son of a Whore!”

“So! (quoth the Fry'r) Sir Sumner, say'st thou so?
“Faith, we will state Accounts e're far we go.
“I of a Sumner will a Tale provide,
“And ev'ry Hand shall shake at ev'ry Side.”

The Sumner answer'd, “I beshrew thy Face.
“Of many a Fry'r can I recount the Case;
“And one shall pay thy Malice in Return,
“E're yet we reach the Town of Sittingbourne.”

“Hold (cry'd our Lordly Host) you spoil our Sport;
“Silence, I say; keep Silence in the Court!
“Will you not let the Woman tell her Tale?
“Wrangling, like Gossips, drunk with Market-Ale!
“Come, gentle Dame, our Play is at a stand.”—
‘All ready, Sir, quoth she, at your Command.
‘I'll do the best to please you that I can,
‘If I have Licence from this worthy Man.’
“'Tis granted, said the Fry'r, with holy Leer,
“And open'd to the Tale a self-sufficient Ear.”

END of the Prologue.

The Wife of Bath speaks.

Continu'd by Mr. Ogle.

THE Desire of Woman:

OR, THE Wife of BATH's TALE.

By Mr. Dryden.

In Days of Old, when Arthur fill'd the Throne,
Whose Acts and Fame to Foreign Lands were blown;
The little Elfs and little Fairy Queen
Gambol'd on Heaths, and danc'd along the Green;
And where the jolly Troop had led the Round,
The Grass untrodden rose, and mark'd the Ground:
Nor darkling did they glance, the Silver Light
Of Phœbe serv'd to guide their Steps aright,
And, with their Tripping pleas'd, prolong the Night.
Her Beams they follow'd, where at full they play'd,
Nor longer than she shed her Horns they stay'd:
From thence with airy Flight to Foreign Lands convey'd.

Above the rest, our Britain held they dear,
More solemnly they kept their Sabbaths here,
And made more spacious Rings, and revel'd half the Year.

I speak of ancient Times; for now the Swain
Returning late may pass the Woods in vain,
And never hope to see the nightly Train:
In vain the Dairy now with Mints is drest,
The Dairy-Maid expects no Fairy-Guest
To skim the Bowls, and after pay the Feast.
She sighs, and shakes her empty Shoes in vain,
No Silver-Penny to reward her Pain:
For Priests with Pray'rs, and other Godly Geer,
Have made the merry Goblins disappear;
And where they play'd their merry Pranks before,
Have sprinkled Holy Water on the Floor:
And Fry'rs, that thro' the wealthy Regions run
Thick as the Motes that twinkle in the Sun,
Resort to Farmers rich, and bless their Halls,
And exorcise the Beds, and cross the Walls:

This makes the Fairy Choirs forsake the Place,
When once 'tis hallow'd with the Rites of Grace:
But in the Walks where wicked Elves have been,
The Learning of the Parish now is seen,
The Midnight Parson posting o'er the Green,
With Gown tuck'd up to Wakes; for Sunday next,
With humming Ale encouraging his Text;
Nor wants the holy Leer to Country-Girl betwixt.
From Fiends and Imps he sets the Village free,
There haunts not any Incubus but He.
The Maids and Women need no Danger fear
To walk by Night, and Sanctity so near:
For by some Hay-cock, or some shady Thorn,
He bids his Beads both Even-song and Morn.

It so befel in this King Arthur's Reign,
A lusty Knight was pricking o'er the Plain;
A Bachelor he was, and of the Courtly Train.
It happen'd as he rode, a Damsel gay
In Russet Robes to Market took her Way;

Soon on the Girl he cast an am'rous Eye,
So straight she walk'd, and on her Pasterns high:
If seeing her behind he lik'd her Pace,
Now turning short, he better lik'd her Face:
He 'lights in haste, and, full of youthful Fire,
By Force accomplish'd his obscene Desire:
This done, away he rode, not unespy'd,
For swarming at his Back the Country cry'd;
And, once in View, they never lost the Sight,
But seiz'd, and pinion'd brought to Court the Knight.

Then Courts of Kings were held in high Renown,
E're made the common Brothels of the Town:
There, Virgins honourable Vows receiv'd,
But chaste as Maids in Monasteries liv'd:
The King himself, to nuptial Ties a Slave,
No bad Example to his Poets gave:
And they not bad, but in a vicious Age,
Had not, to please the Prince, debauch'd the Stage.

Now what should Arthur do? He lov'd the Knight;
But Sov'reign Monarchs are the Source of Right:

Mov'd by the Damsel's Tears and common Cry,
He doom'd the brutal Ravisher to die.
But fair Geneura rose in his Defence,
And pray'd so hard for Mercy from the Prince,
That to his Queen the King th' Offender gave,
And left it in her Pow'r to Kill or Save.
This gracious Act the Ladies all approve,
Who thought it much, a Man should die for Love;
And with their Mistress join'd in close Debate,
(Cov'ring their Kindness with dissembled Hate,)
If not to free him, to prolong his Fate.
At last agreed, they call'd him by Consent
Before the Queen and Female Parliament:
And the fair Speaker rising from her Chair,
Did thus the Judgment of the House declare:

‘Sir Knight, tho' I have ask'd thy Life, yet still
‘Thy Destiny depends upon my Will:
‘Nor hast thou other Surety than the Grace
‘Not due to thee from our offended Race.

‘But as our Kind is of a softer Mold,
‘And cannot Blood without a Sigh behold,
‘I grant thee Life; reserving still the Pow'r
‘To take the Forfeit when I see my Hour;
‘Unless thy Answer to my next Demand
‘Shall set Thee free from our avenging Hand:
‘The Question, whose Solution I require,
‘Is, What the Sex of Women most desire?
‘In this Dispute thy Judges are at Strife:
‘Beware; for on thy Wit depends thy Life,
‘Yet (lest surpriz'd, unknowing what to say,
‘Thou damn thy self) we give thee farther Day:
‘A Year is thine, to wander at thy Will,
‘And learn from others, if thou want'st the Skill.
‘But, not to hold our Proffer turn'd in Scorn,
‘Good Sureties will we have for thy Return;
‘That at the Time prefix'd thou shalt obey,
‘And at thy Pledges Peril keep thy Day.’

Woe was the Knight at this severe Command!
But well he knew 'twas bootless to withstand:

The Terms accepted, as the Fair ordain,
He put in Bail for his Return again;
And promis'd Answer at the Day assign'd,
The best, with Heav'n's Assistance, he could find.

His Leave thus taken, on his Way he went
With heavy Heart, and full of Discontent,
Misdoubting much, and fearful of th' Event,
'Twas hard the Truth of such a Point to find,
As was not yet agreed among the Kind.
Thus on he went; still anxious more and more,
Ask'd all he met, and knock'd at ev'ry Door;
Enquir'd of Men; but made his chief Request
To learn from Women what they lov'd the best.
They answer'd each according to her Mind,
To please herself, not all the Female Kind.
One was for Wealth, another was for Place:
Crones, old and ugly, wish'd a better Face,
The Widow's Wish was, oftentimes to wed;
The wanton Maids were all for Sport a-Bed.

Some said, the Sex were pleas'd with handsome Lies,
And some gross Flatt'ry lov'd without Disguise:
Truth is, says one, he seldom fails to win,
Who flatters well; for that's our darling Sin.
But long Attendance, and a duteous Mind,
Will work ev'n with the Wisest of our Kind.
One thought the Sexes prime Felicity
Was from the Bonds of Wedlock to be free:
Their Pleasures, Hours, and Actions all their own,
And uncontroll'd to give Account to none.
Some wish a Husband-Fool; but such are curst,
For Fools perverse, of Husbands are the worst:
All Women would be counted Chaste and Wise;
Nor should our Spouses see, but with our Eyes:
For Fools with prate; and tho' they want the Wit
To find close Faults, yet open Blots will hit:
Tho' better for their Ease to hold their Tongue,
For Womankind was never in the Wrong.
So Noise ensues, and Quarrels last for Life;
The Wife abhors the Fool, the Fool the Wife.

And some Men say, that great Delight have we
To be for Truth extoll'd, and Secrecy;
And constant in one Purpose still to dwell,
And not our Husband's Counsels to reveal.
But that's a Fable; for our Sex is frail,
Inventing rather than not tell a Tale.
Like leaky Sieves, no Secrets we can hold:
Witness the famous Tale that Ovid told.

Midas the King, as in his Book appears,
By Phœbus was endow'd with Asses Ears,
Which under his long Locks he well conceal'd,
(As Monarchs Vices must not be reveal'd)
For fear the People have 'em in the Wind,
Who long ago were neither Dumb nor Blind;
Nor apt to think from Heav'n their Title springs,
Since Jove and Mars left off begetting Kings:
This Midas knew; and durst communicate
To none but to his Wife, his Ears of State.
One must be trusted, and he thought her fit,
As passing prudent, and a parlous Wit.

To this sagacious Confessor he went,
And told her what a Gift the Gods had sent;
But told it under Matrimonial Seal,
With strict Injunction never to reveal.
The Secret heard, she plighted him her Troth
(And sacred, sure, is ev'ry Woman's Oath)
The Royal Malady should rest unknown,
Both for her Husband's Honour and her own:
But ne'ertheless she pin'd with Discontent;
The Counsel rumbled till it found a Vent.
The Thing, she knew, she was oblig'd to hide;
By Int'rest and by Oath the Wife was ty'd;
But if she told it not, the Woman dy'd.
Loth to betray a Husband and a Prince,
But she must burst, or blab; and no Pretence
Of Honour ty'd her Tongue from Self-Defence.
A marshy Ground commodiously was near;
Thither she ran, and held her Breath for fear,
Lest if a Word she spoke of any thing,
That Word might be the Secret of the King.

Thus, full of Counsel, to the Fen she went,
Grip'd all the Way, and longing for a Vent:
Arriv'd, by pure Necessity compell'd,
On her majestic Marrow-bones she kneel'd;
Then to the Waters-brink she laid her Head,
And, as a Bittour bumps within a Reed,
‘To thee alone, O Lake, she said, I tell
‘(And, as thy Queen, command thee to conceal)
‘Beneath his Locks the King my Husband wears
‘A goodly Royal Pair of Asses Ears.
‘Now I have eas'd my Bosom of the Pain,
‘Till the next longing Fit returns again!’

Thus thro' a Woman was the Secret known;
Tell us, and in Effect you tell the Town.
But, to my Tale: The Knight with heavy Cheer,
Wandring in vain, had now consum'd the Year:
One Day was only left to solve the Doubt;
Yet knew no more than when he first set out.
But home he must; and as th' Award had been,
Yield up his Body Captive to the Queen.

In this despairing State he happ'd to ride,
As Fortune led him, by a Forest-side:
Lonely the Vale, and full of Horror stood,
Brown with the Shade of a religious Wood:
When full before him, at the Noon of Night,
(The Moon was up, and shot a gleamy Light)
He saw a Choir of Ladies in a Round,
That featly footing seem'd to skim the Ground:
Thus dancing Hand in Hand, so light they were,
He knew not where they trod, on Earth or Air.
At speed he drove, and came a sudden Guest,
In hope where many Women were, at least
Some one by chance might answer his Request.
But faster than his Horse the Ladies flew,
And in a trice were vanish'd out of View.

One only Hag remain'd; but fouler far
Than Grandame Apes in Indian Forests are;
Against a wither'd Oak she lean'd her Weight,
Propp'd on her trusty Staff, not half upright,
And dropp'd an aukward Court'sy to the Knight.

Then said, “What makes you, Sir, so late abroad
“Without a Guide, and this no beaten Road?
“Or want you aught that here you hope to find,
“Or travel for some Trouble in your Mind?
“The last I guess; and, if I read aright,
“Those of our Sex are bound to serve a Knight:
“Perhaps good Counsel may your Grief assuage;
“Then tell your Pain: For Wisdom is in Age.

To this the Knight: ‘Good Mother, would you know
‘The secret Cause and Spring of all my Woe?
‘My Life must with To-morrow's Light expire,
‘Unless I tell what Women most desire.
‘Now, could you help me at this hard Essay,
‘Or for your inborn Goodness, or for Pay;
‘Yours is my Life, redeem'd by your Advice,
‘Ask what you please, and I will pay the Price:
‘The proudest Kerchief of the Court shall rest
‘Well satisfy'd of what they love the best.’
“Plight me thy Faith, quoth she, that what I ask,
“Thy Danger over, and perform'd the Task;

“That shalt thou give for Hire of thy Demand;
“Here, take thy Oath, and seal it on my Hand;
“I warrant thee, on Peril of my Life,
“Thy Word shall please both Widow, Maid, and Wife.

More Words there needed not to move the Knight
To take her Offer, and his Truth to plight.
With that she spread her Mantle on the Ground,
And, first enquiring whither he was bound,
Bid him not fear, tho' long and rough the Way,
At Court he should arrive e're Break of Day:
His Horse should find the Way without a Guide,
She said: With Fury they began to ride,
He on the midst, the Beldam at his Side.
The Horse, what Devil drove I cannot tell;
But only this, they sped their Journey well:
And all the Way the Crone inform'd the Knight,
How he should answer the Demand aright.

To Court they came: The News was quickly spread;
Of his returning to redeem his Head.

The Female Senate was assembled soon,
With all the Mob of Women in the Town:
The Queen sate Lord Chief Justice of the Hall,
And bade the Crier cite the Criminal.
The Knight appear'd, and Silence they proclaim,
Then first the Culprit answer'd to his Name:
And, after Forms of Law, was last requir'd
To name the Thing that Women most desir'd.

Th' Offender, taught his Lesson by the Way,
And by his Counsel order'd what to say,
Thus bold began: “My Lady Liege (said he)
“What all your Sex desire, is Sov'reignty.
“The Wife affects her Husband to command;
“All must be hers, both Money, House and Land.
“The Maids are Mistresses ev'n in their Name;
“And of their Servants full Dominion claim.
“This, at the Peril of my Head, I say,
“A blunt plain Truth, The Sex aspires to Sway,
“You to rule all, while we, like Slaves, obey.”

There was not one, or Widow, Maid, or Wife,
But said, the Knight had well deserv'd his Life.
Ev'n fair Geneura, with a Blush, confess'd
The Man had found what Women love the best.

Up starts the Beldam, who was there unseen,
And, Rev'rence made, accosted thus the Queen:
‘My Liege, said she, before the Court arise,
‘May I, poor Wretch, find Favour in your Eyes.
‘To grant my just Request? 'Twas I who taught
‘The Knight this Answer, and inspir'd his Thought.
‘None but a Woman could a Man direct
‘To tell us Women, what we most affect.
‘But first I swore him on his Knightly Troth,
‘(And here demand Performance of his Oath)
‘To grant the Boon that next I should desire:
‘He gave his Faith, and I expect my Hire:
‘My Promise is fulfill'd: I sav'd his Life,
‘And claim his Debt, to take me for his Wife.’
The Knight was ask'd, nor could his Oath deny,
But hop'd they would not force him to comply.

The Women, who would rather wrest the Laws,
Than let a Sister-Plaintiff lose the Cause,
(As Judges on the Bench more gracious are,
And more attent to Brothers of the Bar)
Cry'd one and all, the Suppliant should have Right,
And to the Grandame-Hag adjudg'd the Knight.

In vain he sigh'd, and oft' with Tears desir'd
Some reasonable Sute might be requir'd.
But still the Crone was constant to her Note;
The more he spoke, the more she stretch'd her Throat.
In vain he proffer'd all his Goods, to save
His Body, destin'd to that living Grave.
The liqu'rish Hag rejects the Pelf with Scorn:
And nothing but the Man would serve her Turn.
‘Not all the Wealth of Eastern Kings, said she,
‘Have Pow'r to part my plighted Love and me:
‘And Old, and Ugly as I am, and Poor,
‘Yet never will I break the Faith I swore!
‘For mine thou art by Promise, during Life,
‘And I thy loving and obedient Wife.’

“My Love! Nay, rather my Damnation Thou,
“Said he; nor am I bound to keep my Vow:
“The Fiend, thy Sire, has sent thee from below,
“Else how could'st thou my secret Sorrows know?
“Avant, old Witch; for I renounce thy Bed:
“The Queen may take the Forfeit of my Head,
“E're any of my Race so foul a Crone shall wed.

Both heard, the Judge pronounc'd against the Knight,
So was he marry'd in his own despite:
And all Day after hid him as an Owl,
Not able to sustain a Sight so foul.
Perhaps the Reader thinks I do him Wrong,
To pass the Marriage-Feast and Nuptial Song:
Mirth there was none, the Man was a-la-mort,
And little Courage had to make his Court.
To Bed they went, the Bridegroom and the Bride:
Was never such an ill-pair'd Couple ty'd.
Restless, he toss'd and tumbled to and fro,
And roll'd and wriggled further off for Woe.

The good old Wife lay smiling by his Side,
And caught him in her quiv'ring Arms, and cry'd,
‘When you my ravish'd Predecessor saw,
‘You were not then become this Man of Straw;
‘Had you been such, you might have 'scap'd the Law.
‘Is this the Custom of King Arthur's Court?
‘Are all Round-Table Knights of such a Sort?
‘Remember I am she who sav'd your Life,
‘Your loving, lawful, and complying Wife:
‘Not thus you swore in your unhappy Hour,
‘Nor I for this Return employ'd my Pow'r.
‘In time of Need I was your faithful Friend;
‘Nor did I since, nor ever will offend.
‘Believe me, my lov'd Lord, 'tis much unkind;
‘What Fury has possess'd your alter'd Mind?
‘Thus on my Wedding-Night—without Pretence—
‘Come, turn this Way, or tell me my Offence.
‘If not your Wife, let Reason's Rule persuade;
‘Name but my Fault, Amends shall soon be made.

“Amends! Nay, that's impossible, said he;
“What Change of Age or Ugliness can be?
“Or, could Medea's Magick mend thy Face,
“Thou art descended from so mean a Race,
“That never Knight was match'd with such Disgrace.
“What Wonder, Madam, if I move my Side,
“When, if I turn, I turn to such a Bride?”

‘And is this all that troubles you so sore?
“And, what the Devil could'st thou wish me more?’
‘Ah, Benedicite! reply'd the Crone:
‘Then Cause of just Complaining you have none.
‘The Remedy to this were soon apply'd,
‘Wou'd you be like the Bridegroom to the Bride.
‘But (for you say, a long-descended Race,
‘And Wealth and Dignity, and Pow'r and Place,
‘Make Gentlemen, and that your high Degree
‘Is much disparag'd to be match'd with me;)
‘Know this, my Lord, Nobility of Blood
‘Is but a glitt'ring and fallacious Good:

‘The Nobleman is he, whose noble Mind
‘Is fill'd with inborn Worth, unborrow'd from his Kind.
‘The King of Heav'n was in a Manger laid,
‘And took his Earth but from an humble Maid;
‘Then what can Birth, or mortal Men bestow?
‘Since Floods no higher than their Fountains flow.
‘We, who for Name and empty Honour strive,
‘Our true Nobility from him derive.
‘Your Ancestors, who puff your Mind with Pride,
‘And vast Estates to mighty Titles ty'd,
‘Did not your Honour, but their own advance;
‘For Virtue comes not by Inheritance.
‘If you tralineate from your Father's Mind,
‘What are you else but of a Bastard-kind?
‘Do as your great Progenitors have done,
‘And by your Virtues prove yourself their Son.
‘No Father can infuse, or Wit or Grace;
‘A Mother comes across, and marrs the Race.
‘A Grandsire or a Grandame taints the Blood;
‘And seldom three Descents continue Good.

‘Were Virtue by Descent, a noble Name
‘Could never villanize his Father's Fame;
‘But as the first, the last of all the Line
‘Would, like the Sun, ev'n in Descending shine.
‘Take Fire, and bear it to the darkest House
‘Betwixt King Arthur's Court and Caucasus,
‘If you depart, the Flame shall still remain,
‘And the bright Blaze enlighten all the Plain:
‘Nor, till the Fuel perish, can decay,
‘By Nature form'd on Things combustible to prey.
‘Such is not Man, who mixing better Seed
‘With worse, begets a base degen'rate Breed:
‘The Bad corrupts the Good, and leaves behind
‘No Trace of all the great Begetter's Mind.
‘The Father sinks within his Son, we see,
‘And often rises in the third Degree:
‘If better Luck a better Mother give;
‘Chance gave us Being, and by Chance we live.

‘Such as our Atoms were, ev'n such are we,
‘Or call it Chance, or strong Necessity,
‘Thus, loaded with dead Weight, the Will is free.
‘And thus it needs must be: For Seed conjoin'd
‘Lets into Nature's Work th' imperfect Kind:
‘But Fire, th' Enliv'ner of the gen'ral Frame,
‘Is One, its Operations still the same.
‘Its Principle is in itself: While ours
‘Works, as Confed'rates war, with mingled Pow'rs:
‘Or Man, or Woman, whichsoever fails:
‘And, oft', the Vigour of the worse prevails.
‘Æther with Sulphur blended alters Hue,
‘And casts a dusky Gleam of Sodom blue.
‘Thus in a Brute, their ancient Honour ends,
‘And the fair Mermaid in a Fish descends:
‘The Line is gone; no longer Duke or Earl;
‘But, by himself degraded, turns a Churl.
‘Nobility of Blood is but Renown
‘Of thy great Fathers, by their Virtue known,
‘And a long Trail of Light to thee descending down.

‘If in thy Smoke it ends, their Glories shine;
‘But Infamy and Villanage are thine.
‘Then what I said before is plainly show'd,
‘The true Nobility proceeds from God:
‘Not left us by Inheritance, but giv'n
‘By Bounty of our Stars, and Grace of Heav'n.
‘Thus from a Captive Servius Tullus rose,
‘Whom for his Virtues the first Romans chose:
‘Fabritius from their Walls repell'd the Foe,
‘Whose noble Hands had exercis'd the Plough.
‘From hence, my Lord and Love, I thus conclude,
‘That tho' my homely Ancestors were rude,
‘Mean as I am, yet I may have the Grace
‘To make you Father of a gen'rous Race:
‘And Noble then am I, when I begin,
‘In Virtue cloth'd, to cast the Rags of Sin:
‘If Poverty be my upbraided Crime,
‘And you believe in Heav'n, there was a time
‘When He, the great Controller of our Fate,
‘Deign'd to be Man, and liv'd in low Estate:

100

‘Which he, who had the World at his Dispose,
‘If Poverty were Vice, would never choose.
‘Philosophers have said, and Poets sing,
‘That a glad Poverty's an honest Thing.
‘Content is Wealth, the Riches of the Mind;
‘And happy He who can that Treasure find.
‘But the base Miser starves amidst his Store,
‘Broods on his Gold, and griping still at more,
‘Sits sadly pining, and believes he's poor.
‘The ragged Beggar, tho' he wants Relief,
‘Has not to lose, and sings before the Thief.
‘Want is a bitter and a hateful Good,
‘Because its Virtues are not understood:
‘Yet many Things, impossible to Thought,
‘Have been by Need to full Perfection brought:
‘The Daring of the Soul proceeds from thence,
‘Sharpness of Wit, and active Diligence:
‘Prudence at once, and Fortitude it gives,
‘And, if in Patience ta'en, it mends our Lives:

101

‘For ev'n that Indigence that brings me low,
‘Makes me Myself, and Him above to know.
‘A Good which none would challenge, few would choose;
‘A fair Possession, which Mankind refuse,
‘If we from Wealth to Poverty descend,
‘Want gives to know the Flatt'rer from the Friend.
‘If I am Old and Ugly, well for you;
‘No lewd Adult'rer will my Love pursue.
‘Nor Jealousy, the Bane of Marry'd Life,
‘Shall haunt you, for a wither'd homely Wife:
‘For Age and Ugliness, as all agree,
‘Are the best Guards of Female Chastity.

‘Yet, since I see your Mind is worldly bent,
‘I'll do my best to further your Content.
‘And therefore, of two Gifts in my Dispose,
‘Think e're you speak, I grant you Leave to choose:
‘Would you I should be still Deform'd and Old,
‘Nauseous to touch, and loathsom to behold;
‘On this Condition, to remain for Life
‘A careful, tender, and obedient Wife,

102

‘In all I can contribute to your Ease,
‘And not in Deed, or Word, or Thought displease?
‘Or, would you rather have me Young and Fair,
‘And take the Chance that happens to your Share?
‘Temptations are in Beauty, and in Youth;
‘And how can you depend upon my Truth?
‘Now weigh the Danger with the doubtful Bliss,
‘And thank yourself, if aught should fall amiss.’

Sore sigh'd the Knight, who this long Sermon heard:
At length, consid'ring all, his Heart he chear'd;
And thus reply'd: “My Lady, and my Wife,
“To your wise Conduct I resign my Life:
“Choose you for me; for well you understand
“The future Good and Ill on either Hand:
“But, if an humble Husband may request,
“Provide, and order all Things for the best:
“Yours be the Care to profit, and to please;
“And let your Subject-Servant take his Ease.”

‘Then thus in Peace, quoth she, concludes the Strife,
‘Since I am turn'd the Husband, you the Wife:

103

‘The Matrimonial Victory is mine;
‘Which, having fairly gain'd, I will resign.
‘Forgive, if I have said or done amiss,
‘And seal the Bargain with a friendly Kiss:
‘I promis'd you but one Content to share;
‘But now I will become both Good and Fair.
‘No nuptial Quarrel shall disturb your Ease,
‘The Bus'ness of my Life shall be to please.
‘And for my Beauty, that as Time shall try;
‘But draw the Curtain first, and cast your Eye.’

He look'd, and saw a Creature heav'nly fair,
In Bloom of Youth, and of a charming Air.
With Joy he turn'd, and seiz'd her Iv'ry Arm;
And, like Pygmalion, found the Statue warm.
Small Arguments there needed to prevail,
A Storm of Kisses pour'd as thick as Hail.
Thus, long in mutual Bliss they lay embrac'd,
And their first Love continu'd to the last:
One Sunshine was their Life; no Cloud between;
Nor ever was a kinder Couple seen.

104

And so may all our Lives like theirs be led;
Heav'n send the Maids young Husbands, fresh in Bed.
May Widows wed as often as they can,
And ever for the better change their Man.
And some devouring Plague pursue their Lives,
Who will not well be govern'd by their Wives.

END of the Wife of BATH's TALE.

105

PROLOGUE TO THE FRYAR's TALE.

By Mr. OGLE.

Full, on the Sumner, lour'd the Licenc'd Fry'r,
And, suffocating, boil'd and burn'd with Ire.
Yet, caution'd by our Host, nor Rule he broke,
Nor, till the Dame had finish'd, Word he spoke.
Then threw he, as he thought, a lucky Hit;
For, of his House, he was a parlous Wit.

“Dame, you have led, (quoth He) a merry Life;
“Happy the Man, that marries such a Wife!
“Wedlock's a knotty Point, I must declare;
“But you have touch'd it to a single Hair:

106

“And, may I die, tho' canvass'd in the Schools,
“'Twas never settled yet by juster Rules.
“Here let me only tell you, by the way,
“Tho' right in most that you was pleas'd to say,
“Yet in your free Citations you are wrong;
“'Tis little less than Petulance of Tongue.
“Beneath your Feet be the Sixth Husband trod;
“But use with due Respect the Word of God.
“'Tis what no Layman should presume to name:
“But, for a Woman—Madam, fye, for Shame!
“Texts and Authorities are sacred Mines:
“Leave Quoting Scripture, to Us sound Divines.

“Ev'n I myself a Sumner's Story chuse,
“Not aiming to instruct you, but amuse.
“Nam'd I a Sumner? be it understood,
“I mean not, of the Man, to say much Good:
“Like Tyburn-Jack, you know him by his Station:
“A Sumner is a Bawd for Fornication!”

‘Hold! said our Host, a Churchman should be meek;
‘A Christian you! and with such Rancour speak?

107

‘Be courteous, humble, as becomes a Priest;
‘Abuse no Friend in Company at least.
‘This the Forbearance of a Fry'r profess'd?
‘Tell on your Tale, and let the Sumner rest.’

“Nay, quoth the Sumner, give him Length of Rope,
“Pardie! my Staff shall tally with his Cope!
“For I will bring a Licens'd Fry'r to View,
“A Pattern He, of all the Fawning Crew.
“The Merit of their Function I will show,
“And where they hold their Office, all shall know.”

‘No more of this, our Host in Fury cry'd:
‘Begin, I say, Sir Fry'r!’ The Fry'r comply'd.

END of the Prologue.

108

THE Sumner and the Devil:

OR, THE FRYAR's TALE.

By Mr. MARKLAND.

A rigorous Arch-Deacon whilom liv'd,
From whom severest Justice Guilt receiv'd;
Him no Evasions ever could elude;
Offending Sinners strictly he pursu'd.
But Fornicators were in greatest Awe:
On them he always put the Penal Law.
And they whose Tythes were slow of Coming-in,
(To cheat the Clergy is a crying Sin!)
Them oft with Mulcts pecun'ary he fin'd,
Nor let them cheat the Church, howe'er inclin'd.

109

For e're the Bishop caught them with his Hook,
They were first enter'd in th' Arch-Deacon's Book.

He had a Sumner, bred to pious Guiles,
To Fraud, and true Ecclesiastick Wiles;
To none in Craft inferior; none so fit
To burlesque Virtue, by defending it.
Immoral Actions slily could he trace
Thro' ev'ry Path of the Dissembler's Maze.
One or two Leachers He would gently use,
If they as many Dozen would accuse:
Whene'er a Criminal impeach'd did stand,
Pimps, Bawds, and sly Informers were at hand:
Whate'er was urg'd, or Right, or Wrong, they swore,
And, Conscience-proof, false Witness gladly bore.
They gave him Informations, not a few,
Some of imaginary Crimes, some true.
And new-reviv'd the Devil's Part of old,
First tempted Wretches to offend, then sold.
For his Advantage they took mighty Pains,
And shar'd some little Portion of his Gains.

110

His Master thought he most uprightly liv'd,
Nor ever found wherein he was deceiv'd.
Oft' would he issue Summons without Leave,
And ample Bribes, to drop the Cause, receive.
For when Men stand in danger of a Curse,
Who, to preserve his Soul, would grudge his Purse?
Thus run he on, intrepid in Deceit,
Nor fear'd to be detected of the Cheat.
He was (to give him his undoubted Laud)
A downright Thief, a Sumner, and a Bawd.

Right true-bred Whores he always kept in Pay,
Who slily told if any went astray.
No sooner did he know th' Offender's Name,
But out a forg'd Mandamus quickly came:
For diff'rent Ends the guilty Two appear;
Her, her own Profit brings; Him, conscious Fear.
Th' Event, as he design'd, was still the same,
The Man to pill, but to excuse the Dame.
Then smoothly would he cry, “Your honest Look
“Prevails; I'll cross you in th' Arch-deacon's Book,

111

“Henceforth beware, and never more offend;
“Believe me, much I hazard for my Friend.”
Thus gravely poor Delinquent would he fright,
Till a sufficient Bribe set all things right.
Thus did his Whores his heedless Neighbours treat,
Giving sour Sauce—whatever was the Meat.

It so befel, that on a certain Day,
This Sumner, ever waiting for his Prey,
Tow'rds a poor Widow's, with a Summons went;
Whate'er the Cause, a Bribe was the Intent.
And riding gently by a Forest-side,
A jolly Yeoman he before him spy'd,
Whose dapple Grey in haughty manner pranc'd,
And to the Musick of his own Hoofs danc'd.
The Sumner kindly hail'd; He gently smil'd,
And greeted him with Salutation mild.
The Yeoman ask'd, “Proceed you far to day?”
‘No, said the Sumner, but a little Way:
‘At a small Distance hence, is my Intent,
‘To gather for my Lord a little Rent.’

112

“Are you a Steward then?” the Yeoman said:
He answ'ring, ‘Yes,’ conceal'd his proper Trade:
He was a little modest; and, for Shame,
Would not profess th' unreputable Name.
“A Steward! said the Yeoman; Let us greet,
“I'm over-joy'd a Brother here to meet:
“For I'm a Steward too, no less than Thou,
“Tho' in this Country unacquainted now.
“Howe'er, I hope, we shall familiar grow,
“When we each other somewhat better know.
“Then, prithee, mutual Friendship let us swear,
“Silver and Gold I have enough to spare.
“And if you hap to come within our Shire,
“All shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire.”

‘Done, quoth the Sumner, Brotherhood I swear;
‘Henceforth a mutual Friendship let us bear.
‘And whosoe'er in Love is first remiss,
‘Partake he nought of Heav'n's eternal Bliss.’

Thus travell'd they together, Side by Side,
The Sumner pleas'd, the Yeoman satisfy'd.

113

The Sumner next began t'inquire his Name,
‘Whither his Journey tended? Whence he came?
‘And where, said he, may I a Visit pay,
‘If e'er my kinder Fortune lead that way?’

He answer'd, “Brother, hence, far low, I live,
“Where I to Friends no cold Reception give.
“But of the Road I'll draw you such a Chart,
“You shall not miss the Way—e'er we depart.

‘Now, Brother, quoth the Sumner, as we ride,
‘Since in your Honesty I may confide,
‘(Since you're a Steward too) I do beseech,
‘That you some fraudful Arts of Gain would teach.
‘Instruct me to make Profits of my Place,
‘Without unseasonable Checks of Grace.
‘Tell, in mine Office, how I most may win,
‘And spare not, or for Conscience, or for Sin.’

“Troth, Brother dear, I'll tell a faithful Tale;
“My Wages, I confess, are strait and small:

114

“My Lord is Careful, Vigilant, and Close;
“And Avarice in all his Actions shows;
“Therefore I study first for his Content;
“Then levy supernumerary Rent.
“In short, I chiefly by Extortion live,
“And gladly pocket what the Tenants give:
“From Year to Year I win all my Expence,
“Sometimes by Slight, sometimes by Violence.
“I plainly tell my Mind, and nothing spare.”

‘Right so, the Sumner answer'd, I do fare:
‘My Conscience ne'er prohibits me to get;
‘But, Right or Wrong—All's Fish that comes to Net.
‘But for Extortion, I should surely starve,
‘And they deserve no Meat, who cannot carve.
‘Let squeamish Stomachs fly ill-gotten Feasts;
‘Give me the Man, that, what he eats, digests.
‘In short, a thousand Reasons I could give;
‘The mighty Law of Nature bids us live,
‘And all our Means are honest, if we thrive.

115

‘But little Need requires that I should preach
‘To One, much better qualify'd to teach.’
‘Well are we met, by holy sweet St. Jame;
‘And, Brother, by your Leave, I crave your Name.

“My Name, the Yeoman, smiling, said, I'll tell;
“I am a Fiend, my Dwelling is in Hell.
“And here I ride about, like you, in Quest,
“As you yourself not long ago confess'd.
“My Purchase is th' Effect of all my Rent:
“And ride not you upon the same Intent?
“You seek for Lucre, never caring how:
“Just so, with such Design, I travel now.”

‘Ah! bless us! the affrighted Sumner cries,
‘How has your Cloven Foot escap'd my Eyes?
‘Can you thus shrewdly Mortal Actions ape?
‘For You, as well as I, have Human Shape.
‘Or serve you any Form determinate,
‘Whilst you remain in your Infernal State?

“No, certainly, he answer'd, we have none;
“But at our Pleasure we can take us one.

116

“Or come an Immaterial, seeming Shape;
“Appear a Boar, a Lyon, Man, or Ape.
“Or like an Angel we can sometimes go:
“Nor is it wond'rous if we can do so;
“When paltry Jugglers can Mankind deceive,
“By Cant assisted, and an open Sleeve.
“What Pow'r is his, who, Master of Hell's Tricks,
“Can form, on whate'er Shape his Fancy fix?”

‘But, said the Sumner, why do you thus frame
‘So various Forms, nor always use the same?’

“Because, quoth he, our Forms we always make
“The ready'st our intended Preys to take.
“Nor are we troubled much: The Hope of Gains
“Takes off the Weight of our industr'ous Pains.
“Sometimes a Glutton-Belly does confine,
“Guzzling us up, instead of Vintners Wine;
“Till, by excessive Drinking over-charg'd,
“The Gorge o'erflows, and we're again enlarg'd.
“Those who enjoy us, We by turns entrap,
“And many a Drunkard proves the Devil's Chap.

117

“Sometimes, like Ivory, with number'd Spots,
“We breed loud Strife amongst contentious Sots;
“Or at Groom-Porter's (rattling all the Night)
“Brawls, Oaths, and deep-mouth'd Blasphemies excite;
“Ruine young 'Squires and Tradesmen in a trice:
“Hence Men exclaim, The Devil's in the Dice!
“Oft' rule we Statesmen's, oft' Director's Dreams;
“Hence Plots, Conspiracies, and South-Sea Schemes.
“When hatch'd Rebellions first are set on foot,
“And Discontent in Subjects Hearts takes Root,
“The Chief, by us beguil'd, destroys their Lives,
“And he betrays it first, who first contrives.
“Thus we concerted Projects often state,
“And spoil a Nation's Views of growing Great.
“The greedy Kingdom hugs the airy Cheat,
“And the Directors thrive by the Deceit;
“Till, having lost the entertaining Hope,
“We leave them to the Mercy of a Rope.
“Some, not unwisely, have th' Occasion guess'd,
“Who, but the Devil, could these Things suggest?

118

“Sometimes expresly Pow'r to us is giv'n,
“And we are made the Instruments of Heav'n.
“The Body of Afflictions oft' we tempt;
“But the immortal Soul is still exempt.
“Sometimes by black Despair we try the Soul,
“But leave the untouch'd Body healthy, whole.
“Then, if our Arts are vig'rously withstood,
“Man's former Evils turn to future Good.
“The Slaves to Man we oftentimes are made,
“As when the great Apostle I obey'd:
“Nor dare we their superior Pow'r oppose;
“Thus Dunstan took the Devil by the Nose.”

‘But, said the Sumner, do you always thus
‘Make Forms substantial when you visit us?’

“No, no, the Fiend reply'd, sometimes we feign,
“And but appear imaginary Men.
“As, when thro' clefted Floorings we arise,
“And, vanishing, beguile poor Mortals Eyes.
“Sometimes from Graves dead Carcasses we hire,
“To answer what our Votaries require;

119

“And dark Futurity with Truth foretel,
“As formerly the Witch rais'd Samuel;
“Yet boldly some aver, it was not He;
“But I'll not here enforce Divinity.
“Yet Thee with sober Seriousness I warn,
“Thou wilt e'er-while have little Cause to learn;
“For I have Hopes, my dearest Friend to see,
“Where 'twill be needless to inquire of Me.
“But let us on: I've travell'd all the Day,
“Without the smallest Hopes of any Prey:
“If now my Company you will receive,
“Forward I'll ride, until your Friend you leave.”

‘Nay, said the Sumner, that shall ne'er betide,
‘My well-try'd Honesty is known full wide:
‘I will preserve my faithful Promise well,
‘Altho' thou wert the Emperor of Hell.
‘Friends we'll continue, as we lately sware,
‘And by Accord our Booty thus we'll share:
‘Content yourself with whatsoe'er you gain,
‘And I'll receive the Product of my Brain.

120

‘But if one of us should have more than t'other,
‘Let him be true, and part it with his Brother.’

“With all my Heart, the Devil answer'd straight,
“Hence quickly; let's pursue our better Fate.”

Thus they proceed, till coming near a Town
(Plac'd in a miry Valley deeply down)
They met a Cart, full heavy charg'd with Hay,
The Carter driving thro' a dirty Way.
Deep were the Tracks, uneven was the Road,
And the tir'd Horses droop'd beneath the Load:
The Carter strove, and plentifully smote,
‘What, are you jaded? Stir you not a Foot?
‘The Dev'l himself e'en carry you away;
‘I freely give him Horses, Cart and Hay.’
The Sumner list'ning, to his Friend drew near,
And, smiling, told him softly in his Ear,
‘Hearken, my Brother, you have got a Prey;
‘Did you not hear th' unthinking Carter say,
‘He gave 'em you?—Prevent a second Word;
‘No better Prey your Fortune will afford.’

121

“Nay, quoth the Devil, 'tis not his Intent;
“Whate'er he said, far otherwise he meant.
“Ask him yourself, if you believe not me;
“Or stay a little longer here, and see.”

Th' impatient Carter, joining all his Force,
With utmost Fury whipp'd the foremost Horse.
He stoop'd, and stretch'd, and quickly freed the Cart:
‘Heit! said the Carter, Blessings on thy Heart!
‘Well hast thou drawn, and freed us at a Jerk;
‘Jesu, preserve thee, for thy helpful Work.

“Now, said the Devil, credit what I told;
“I knew his Words, their Purport would not hold:
“Whate'er he spake, he never did design:
“Thus Words and Actions very seldom join.
“But let us forward towards yonder Plains;
“Here we but get our Labour for our Pains.”

No sooner past the Town a little Way,
The Sumner call'd, ‘My dearest Brother, stay;
‘Here lives a Widow in this little House,
‘Would sooner dye, than give away a Souse.

122

‘Observe how furiously she'll rant and swear;
‘I'll extort Twelve-pence, tho' I leave her bare.
‘That I've th' Arch-deacon's Summons I'll pretend,
‘Altho' I never knew her once offend:
‘Perhaps you know not how we Sumners thrive;
‘So take Example here how well we live.’

The Sumner loudly rattled at the Door;
‘Come out, old Double-Devil, Bawd and Whore;
‘Come forth, and show yourself, you filthy Beast!
‘What! you're solacing with some pamper'd Priest!

“Sweet Sir, reply'd the Widow, what's your Will?”
‘I summon you, he answer'd, by this Bill;
‘On pain of 'curring, for your Disrespect,
‘You must your Sentence of my Lord expect;
‘No fine Excuse will palliate this Neglect.
‘At Nine, to-morrow Morn, precisely come.’
“Now, Lord! (said she) I cannot stir from Home,
“Long Sickness has confin'd me to my Room;
“I cannot walk, and less indure to ride,
“I have such Pains and Pricking in my Side.

123

“May I not ask a Libel in this Case,
“And let my Proctor answer in my Place?
“It won't be represented as Neglect,
“If he may answer what my Foes object.”

‘My Friendship, he reply'd, I'll let you use;
‘For Twelve-pence your Appearance I'll excuse:
‘I would not your Expences should be large,
‘Or let your Fees run up a needless Charge:
‘For Proctors, when they get a Client in,
‘Fleece him to Nakedness, to Bones and Skin:
‘And thro' all Ages this has been confess'd,
‘That Lawyers are but Villains at the best.
‘Therefore, that this Affair no Noise may breed,
‘And save your Money 'gainst the Time of Need,
‘You, for the Sum I mention'd I'll acquit;
‘'Tis more indeed, than e'er I ventur'd yet;
‘And I no more than half the Profit get:
‘One Moiety th' Arch-deacon has for Fees;
‘Disbursing therefore Twelve-pence, be at Ease.’

124

“Heav'n so protect me from all future Sin,
“Said she, if I the Universe should win,
“I have not Twelve-pence I can call my own:
“Alas! I'm needy, and past Labour grown.
“Bestow your Charity on me poor Wretch.”
‘Fruitless, he answer'd, is this thy idle Fetch?
‘I've noted thee, thou old contriving Jilt!’
“Yet, she reply'd, I'm ignorant of Guilt.”

‘Pay me, he loudly cry'd, or by St. Anne,
‘I'll carry off by downright Force your Pan.
‘You were indebted to me long before,
‘For being cited when you play'd the Whore.
‘I kindly paid your Fees, ungrateful Thrash,
‘Or you had smartly undergone the Lash.’

“Thou ly'st (said she) and 'tis a sorry Trick,
“To chouse an honest Woman, poor, and sick.
“Never was I, whilst Widow, Maid, or Wife,
“Summon'd before your Master in my Life.
“Nor was I ever known to have the Way
“Of using filthy Tricks in filthier Play.

125

“And he that ev'ry Thing doth timely send,
“Take thee—and give thee to the foulest Fiend.”

Soon as the Fiend her hearty Curses heard,
He nearer drew, and asking, thus conferr'd;
“Tell me, my dearest Mother, do you joke,
“Or is this kindly Wish in earnest spoke?”

‘I speak, said she, with Bitterness of Heart,
‘The Devil take him hence before we part,
‘My Fan and all, except he doth repent.’

‘Nay, quoth the Sumner, that's not my Intent.
‘This Pan I'll never part with; 'tis my own:
‘Would I possess'd each Rag that thou hast on.
‘Not but, if e'er I apprehended Harm,
‘I would remit your Smock—to keep you warm.’

“Now, said the Devil, Brother, you shall hear;
“This Bus'ness I am able best to clear.
“Our Bargain was, Each freely should possess
“Whate'er was giv'n him; I expect no less:
“Your Title to this Pan you must resign;
“For by the Owner's Gift 'tis fairly mine.

126

“You'll never part with it;—Your Word's of Force;
“Your Body therefore is my own of course.
“Besides, I think you equally my Claim,
“As being giv'n me by this injur'd Dame.
“Her pow'rful Wishes critically fell:
“So, faith, Sir Sumner, you may go to Hell.”

END of the FRYAR's TALE.

127

PROLOGUE TO THE Sumner's TALE.

By Mr. OGLE.

Here paus'd the Fry'r, to laugh at his own Wit,
As having sent the Sumner down the Pit:
“There lies the Heritage of Proctors Civil!
“I give thee, Soul and Body, to the Devil!

But yet, tho' Priest of Priest has much to say,
He judg'd it meet, to trim it with the Lay.
And having vented first his Spleen and Spite,
Assum'd the Look, forbearing, and contrite!

“Repent, ye Sumners! Quit this sinful Road!
“Nor make the Fiery Gulph your last Abode!
“And oh! preserve us He, from Guides so blind,
“Who, after his own Image, form'd Mankind.

128

“For, of that Tribe had I full Room to speak,
“Hell would appear the Mansion that they seek.
“This could I prove by Texts, one after one,
“To Mark from Matthew, and from Luke to John;
“And show you, from the very Words of Christ,
“That Millions perish, by these Fiends intic'd.
“Fathers and Councils, was I here to name,
“You'd find no End of everlasting Flame:
“For there they draw you by a borrow'd Sign,
“Whence Jesus turn you, of his Grace Divine.
“Then trust not you to a mis-leading Pow'r,
“Who, like the Devil, still watches to devour,
“To Sumner, when was high Commission giv'n?
“Ev'n He must first confess, to go to Heav'n,
“No, would you surely 'scape eternal Fire,
“A Fry'r your Intercessor make; a Fry'r!
“Take Unction from a Mendicant unshod;
“He is the true Ambassador of God.”

The Sumner, while the Fry'r his Tale pursu'd,
At Heart not easy, view'd him, and review'd.

129

Rais'd on his Horse, and longing to engage,
He trembled, like an Aspin-Leaf, with Rage.

‘Now, Sirs (he said) as with the Fry'r you bore,
‘So bear with me, and I will quit the Score.
‘Our good Licentiate talks of Fiends below,
‘As freely as we talk of Friends we know.
‘Nor I, to doubt their Intercourse pretend:
‘For Fiend to Fry'r, is just as Friend to Friend.
‘Who has not heard, how, sleeping in his Cell,
‘A Fry'r was in a Vision rap'd to Hell?
‘Where, as an Angel led him up and down,
‘He look'd, but could not spy one shaven Crown.
‘Numbers of ev'ry Sex and Age he sees,
‘All Ranks and Stations, Functions and Degrees;
‘Ev'n Crowds of old Acquaintance round him came,
‘Full many a topeing Friend, and tickling Dame.

“Now, Sir (quoth he) have Fry'rs such gifted Grace,
“That none descend to this infernal Place?”

“Not so! (the Angel strait the Point explains)
“Not so! Here Millions suffer endless Pains.

130

‘Then, down he led him to th' Abyss profound,
‘Where Satan lay at stretch along the Ground;
‘So broad his Buttock (not to rouse our Tar—)
‘'Twould measure with a First-rate Man of War;
‘And long, as is a Main-Mast, was his Tail,
‘Which, when he cock'd, he look'd a Ship in Sail.

“Up, Sirrah (cry'd the Angel) Satan, rise!
“Erect thy Tail! shew where the Friery lies!
“A Brother craves the Converse of a Brother!
“Ope wide, and let him know his nursing Mother:
“Thy Nest of Fry'rs, discharge upon the Wing.
“Rise up.” ‘And up he rises at a Spring,
‘Erects his Tail, to Pow'r superior, meek,
‘And opes a Gap, as wide as that of Peake.
‘Insu'd a rumbling Sound, and Brimstone-Smell,
‘Then forth they came in Crowds too large to tell,
‘Fry'r urging Fry'r, from out the Devil they drive,
‘As fast as Bees that quit a swarming Hive;
‘Full twenty thousand follow'd ev'ry Blast,
‘And fast as out they came, went in as fast:

131

‘For Satan roar'd. “Fry'rs, listen to my Call,
“Back to your Dormitory, One and All.”
“All enter'd, Black, or Brown, or White, or Grey;
‘He clap'd his Tail between, and down he lay.

‘The Fry'r long ruminates the darksome Hole,
‘When, to his Body, God restores his Soul.
‘The Matin-Bell was sounding as he wak'd,
‘While ev'ry Limb with secret Horror quak'd,
‘For once, a true Devout, he left his Bed,
‘So ran the Devil's Posteriors in his Head.

‘Whence Heav'n preserve us all, except the Fry'r;
‘Be that the Lot of ev'ry Convent-Lyar.
‘Nor, Sirs, condemn me, if I turn the Scale:
‘But, as you took my Prologue, take my Tale.’

End of the Prologue.

132

THE Farmer and the Fryar:

OR, THE Sumner's TALE.

By Mr. BUDGELL.

Where Humber's Streams divide the fruitful Plain,
There liv'd a Fryar of the Begging Train;
Who, licenc'd, hypocritically bold,
Would give his Pray'rs, his Mass, his Heav'n for Gold.

As once, his Gown high-tuck'd, his Scrip new-hung,
Pois'd on his Staff, he pensive trudg'd along;
A Door stood ope, where oft the Beechen Bowl,
Smiling with Nut-brown Ale, had chear'd his Soul:
Gently he tap'd, then cry'd, “May here Content
“With Peace for ever dwell!” and in he went.
Sick lay the Host; the Fryar growl'd a Pray'r,
And with an Ave Mary told his Care.

133

Here down he laid his Staff, there hung his Hat,
Brush'd from the Wicker-Chair the Tabby Cat,
And with a solemn Leisure down he sat:
Then thus began: ‘To-day I preach'd in Town;
‘But kept not servile to the Text alone.
‘Ah! Thomas, had you heard my subtile Wit,
‘My Gloss, my Comments on the Holy Writ;
‘Tho' well, I know, 'gainst Fryars you incline,
‘You'd own that Fryars were of Right Divine.’

The Host reply'd, ‘In Comments I've no Skill;
‘By Comments Priests can prove just what they will.
‘Of Reas'ning deep, some Clerks to shew the Force,
‘From Head to Head drawl out the long Discourse;
‘On this side now, and now on that dispute;
‘Are now confuted, now again confute;
‘Make Saint with Saint, Father with Father vie,
‘Till Glosses prove the Scriptures all a Lie.

“Ah! Friend, the Fryar cry'd, youll' nought believe,
“But what your simple Reason can conceive:

134

“Laymen must credit, tho' the Doctrine's new;
“The Text may vary, but the Comment's true.

The Wife tripp'd in, and stopp'd th' haranguing Priest;
A Court'sy dropp'd, and welcom'd ev'ry Guest:
Slow from the Chair the smiling Fryar rose,
And made with aukward Air his solemn Bows:
Nor there he stopp'd; but to enlarge his Bliss,
Squeez'd her soft Hand, and smack'd a hearty Kiss.
“Ah! Friend (quoth he) how happy is thy Life!
“Not the whole Town can boast so fair a Wife:
“At Church I view'd her, as high Mass was said,
“Soft roll'd her Eye, and gently wav'd her Head,
“Each Dame was envying, sighing was each Swain,
“Whilst she shone fairest of the fairer Train.”

The sweetly-simp'ring Dame new Pleasure found,
With greedy Ear imbib'd the flatt'ring Sound:
Prink'd up her Tucker, ev'ry Charm she try'd,
And by her little Arts reveal'd her Pride:
Then thus address'd him: ‘Would you taste our Cheer?
‘The Fare is homely, but the Heart sincere!

135

‘What could you eat, Sir?’—“Nothing (cry'd the Priest)
“But a thin Slice of a fat Capon's Breast;
“A Brace of Woodcocks, of a Pig the Head,
“With a nice Pudding of the whitest Bread:
“My squeamish Stomach loaths a sumptuous Treat;
“Learn'd Clerks, who study much, but little eat.”

Swift tripp'd the Dame away, and seem'd to fly,
Brisk as a Colt, and jolly as a Pie.
As the Fry'r's Mind on Int'rest chiefly ran,
Absent the Wife, he thus accosts the Man:
“Is not our Order pious? Ours, which shares
“The Day in Fasting, and the Night in Pray'rs?
“Than those more pious, whom base Trifles win,
“Who hold Pluralities to be no Sin?
“For why should Country-Parish claim their Care?
“Curates perform the Drudgery of Pray'r.
“Tho' their whole Study is t'increase their Store,
“They talk fine Things in Praise of being Poor;
“With Mock-Humility of Fasting preach;
“Tho' their fat Sides deny they practise what they teach.

136

“All Priesthood should be meek; but when there's seen
“The rosy Prebend, and the pamper'd Dean,
“Stalk to th' expecting Choir with Front elate,
“In all the Grandeur of Cathedral State;
“There doze in Stalls, or o'er a Sermon nod,
“Can we suppose them meek, or thoughtful on their God?
“Thus They:—Ah! Thomas, Thomas, by St. Ive,
“'Tis from the Fryar's Zeal the Laymen thrive.
“Hence, by our Convent's Pray'r, you're blest with Wealth,
“Hence, by our Masses you'll regain your Health.”

The Churl in Bed reply'd, ‘I have been told,
‘The whole Pursuit of Priesthood is for Gold.
‘Thus some have said; this I myself aver,
‘I'm not a Jot the better for their Pray'r:
‘To Monk, to Fryar, and to Priest I've giv'n;
‘All were Divine Ambassadors from Heav'n.
‘But late, alas! I found this Truth confest,
‘The Man that gives the Least, succeeds the Best.’

“Well, well (reply'd the Priest) appease your Rage,
“War with my Patron never will I wage.

137

“Some Fools indeed, will ev'n with Kings contend,
“To lash their Vices, or their Morals mend.
“I, to reform a Prince, would never arm
“My Tongue with Thunder, or with Threats alarm;
“Harsh Precepts in a Court can never charm.
“There not one Vice I'd lash, nor tedious dwell
“On Stings of Conscience, or on Pains of Hell;
“But gentle Rules in gentle Words convey,
“Till ev'ry conscious Fear in Hope dissolv'd away.
“In short, I ne'er with Patrons disagree;
“If they're resolv'd for Hell, what's that to me?
“But that your Soul to Heav'n may be consign'd,
“Confess to me your Crimes, and calm your Mind.”

‘Faith (cry'd the churlish Host), by good St. John,
‘I've once before To-day been shriv'd by one;
‘And once a Day's enough,—“Enough indeed:
(The sneering Priest reply'd, more sure to speed;)
“Yet to our Convent something you may spare,
“And bounteously reward a Fryar's Pray'r:

138

“For should you fail, ah! what I dread to tell,
“Saints we must pawn, and Fathers we must sell.
“The Layman's lost, if lost that learned Store;
“Then Sermons, Comments, Lectures are no more:
“In vain you'll wish, you had a Fry'r to preach;
“For who, dear Sir, can like a Fryar teach?”

He ends: But ah! th' Harangue no Convert gains;
Thomas the same gruff churlish Wight remains:
So daring impious, that he thought the Fryar
A canting Hypocrite, a fawning Liar.

Then thus. ‘D'ye think, Sir, that I sure shall speed?’
“Host, I as much believe it as my Creed;
“Nay, I am positive, the Fryar cry'd.”
Thomas seem'd pleas'd, and with a Smile reply'd,
‘Persuasive are thy Words; while yet I live,
‘In thy own Hand, Sir Fry'r, a Boon I'll give;
‘On this Condition, and on this alone,
‘That the whole Convent equal shares the Boon.
‘This thou shalt swear.’ Eager he plights his Troth,
His Mass-Book kiss'd more firm to bind the Oath.

139

Then Thomas: ‘Here, thrust down thy Hand behind;
‘Worthy your Convent, there a Gift you'll find.’
Adown he thrust his Hand into the Clift,
And gropes around to find the wish'd-for Gift.
Delusive Hope! something too closely pent,
Hoarse-rumbling from within demands a Vent:
It burst; then dissipated here and there,
And fill'd th' expecting Hand with empty Air.
Amaz'd, the Fryar started with Surprize,
Red glow'd his Cheeks, and ardent flash'd his Eyes:
“Is thus, he cry'd, thy Penitence confess'd?
“Is this, false Churl, thy Duty to a Priest?”
Nor there he'd ended; but, to stop the Fray,
Men, Maids, and Wife ran in, and chas'd the Fry'r away.

The Priest enrag'd, now meditating Ire,
With hasty Pace trudg'd to the neighb'ring Squire,
A Quorum Justice of a sober Life,
The Parish-Umpire, to compose their Strife.

‘Ah! Benedicite, the Justice cry'd,
‘What Evil could to Fryar John betide?’

140

John raving, stamp'd, before he Silence broke;
At last, with raving Passion thus he spoke:
“Divines agree, and Sages have confess'd,
“The Church herself is wounded in her Priest.”
Again he roar'd. ‘Pray, Sir, your Patience hold,
‘The Justice cry'd, till all your Tale is told.’
The Fry'r the Fact relates, as told before,
And as the Story heighten'd, rag'd the more;
And ever and anon abruptly mix'd
Revenge, Pray'rs, Priests, and Holy Church betwixt.
“Sancta Maria! cry'd the Squire's fair Dame;
“Is this, Sir Fryar, all the Crime you blame?
“In my Opinion, as I hope to speed,
“A Churl has only done a churlish Deed.”

Not so, the Squire, with sager Wisdom fraught,
But gravely paus'd, and seem'd quite lost in Thought;
In Mind revolv'd the Statutes o'er and o'er,
If ever such a Case occurr'd before:
Then thus reply'd: ‘Good Fry'r, that Sound and Air
‘Should be divided in an equal Share

141

‘Among Thirteen,—No—not the utmost Skill
‘In Euclid's Problems could perform this Will:
‘The Fact, as to a Priest, I own uncivil,
‘The Inspiration of some freakish Devil.
‘Ne'er let the madding Churl perplex thy Soul;
‘Sit down, and drown thy Sorrow in a Bowl.

Jenkin, the Clerk, who heard the whole Disaster,
And thought he had more Wisdom than his Master,
Pertly address'd the Squire—‘Sir, I believe,
‘Would you, and your good Confessor give Leave,
‘I'd shew a Way by which the pious Tribe
‘This comic Gift should equally divide:
‘And tho' I ne'er Euclid's deep Problems knew,
‘You'l all allow, 'tis as an Axiom true.
‘Here, in the Parlour, from the Air close pent,
‘I'd have a Cart-Wheel with twelve Spokes be sent,
‘Which is, save one, the Number of the Tribe,
‘'Mongst whom I equally this Gift divide:
‘Then to each Spoke each lays his rev'rend Beard,
‘Like some wise Seers of Yore, of whom I've heard;

142

‘Your noble Confessor, whom Heaven save,
‘Shall hold his Nose upright into the Nave;
‘The Churl be brought; and could it hap'ly speed,
‘That he could there repeat his churlish Deed:
‘'Tis Demonstration, that each Spoke around
‘Would equally convey the Air and Sound.
‘Indeed, the Fryar here would first be serv'd;’
‘But sure, this holy Man has best deserv'd.

The Fryar's Frown betray'd his troubled Mind;
But Squire and Lady thus in Judgment join'd,
With a new Coat that Jenkin should be clad,
And that the Churl was neither Fool nor Mad.

END of the Sumner's TALE.

143

PROLOGUE TO THE CLERK of Oxford's TALE.

By Mr. OGLE.

Meantime our Host, the studious Youth survey'd:
“You ride as coy and still as any Maid,
“That sits, new married, at the Bridal Board:
“What! one whole Day, and not one single Word?
“With some hard Sophistry, I doubt, You strain,
“And a new World of Logic fills your Brain.
“But Solomon, in Prose if not in Rhime,
“Declares, that All things have their Place and Time.
“Sir Clerk of Oxford, brighten up your Face;
“To study here, is out of Time and Place.
“Who joins in Sport, (no Matter what his Coat,
“Or Character of Note, or not of Note,)

144

“Shou'd use his Freedom, or relax his Pride,
“And by the Compact, He subscribes, abide.
“Then add your Share of Pleasantry and Joke,
“And, as becomes a Subject, bear the Yoke.
“But preach not You, like starving Fryar in Lent,
“Numb'ring our Sins, and Damn, tho' We repent;
“Transgressions, with Omissions, old and new:
“Then sowse in Hell, without a Heav'n in View!
“Nor yet perplex your Text; this Counsel keep
“In Mind: For if You nod, We well may sleep!
“Tell Us a Tale, but not of Priests or Popes!
“And spare your Figures, and forbear your Tropes!
“Keep these in Store, to Kings till You indite!
“Then, flourish ev'ry Sentence that You write!
“Then, stretch your Fancy! Then exalt your Stile!
“Here all We ask, is but a Laugh or Smile!
“But hold! I bar all Latin, and all Greek!
“Speak plain, that We may know what 'tis You Speak!”

Mine Host, The worthy Scholar mild reply'd;
As free from Bookish Spleen, as Priestly Pride.

145

“I bow beneath the Rod; Allegiance pay;
“And, far as Innocence permits, obey.
“I but demand free Liberty of Voice;
“Light is the Tribute, that is given by Choice.
“A Tale I bring, but not from Streets or Stews,
“At Padua learnt, and of no Vulgar Muse.
“'Tis what Petrarch in Friendly Converse taught,
“Petrarch! Who purely wrote, and nobly thought;
“Whose Works and Manners, delicate as sage,
“Charm'd ev'ry Sex and State, from Youth to Age.
“This, shall his Works, to future Times, attest!
“His Manners are no more—with Him They rest!
“Illustrious Bard, with laurel'd Honours crown'd!
“And, were it Just thy boundless Praise to bound,
“Thou, Sun of Italy! Whose piercing Light
“Dispell'd the Shade! Forebade it to be Night!
“Oh! that on Me thy Rays had longer shone!
“Too soon Departed! And too lately Known!
“Now deep intomb'd the glorious Poet lies;
“To Death a Prey! A Lesson to the Wise!

146

“Far as a Friend might yet correct a Friend—
“(Justly to Blame, is Justly to Commend!)
“High tho' I prize the Work, and lov'd the Man;
“His Proem seems too copious for his Plan.
“Ill wou'd the lengthen'd Prologue suit your Taste;
“You'd think it disproportion'd, and misplac'd.
“And much I err, indur'd You the Delay;
“Tir'd with the Prelude, You'd demand the Play,
“Piemont He sketches, with a Master Hand!
“Saluzzo paints; and Eden is the Land!
“Extends the Appenines; with These You rise!
“Then Vesulus erects; You touch the Skies!
“Here from a narrow Spring, the Streams of Po
“Take Birth, and gather Vigor as They flow!
“You hear Them downward drive, an Eastern Course,
“Grown to a Torrent from a scanty Source!
“Fast to Emell their Progress You pursue;
“A while You keep Ferrarian Towr's in View;
“Thence, chace thro' flow'ry Meads the Watry Train:
“Till Venice sees their Passage to the Main.

147

“This is the Sum; and This I dare to say:
“None ever err'd so sweetly from his Way.
“Yet tho' He leads Us thro' inchanted Ground,
“'Tis still a needless Journey; Round and Round.
“The Goal in View, 'tis worse than Death to stay;
“We stray, yes, tho' thro' Paradise We stray.
“Such noble Errors of exalted Wit,
“I dare not copy, tho' He dare commit.
“We know our Force, know where our Strength may fail,
“And pass the Preface, to commence the Tale.”

End of the Prologue.

148

GUALTHERUS and GRISELDA:

OR, THE CLERK of Oxford's TALE.

By the same Hand.

Down at the Foot of Vesulus the Cold,
(Thus ancient Bards the moral Tale unfold)
Where first, thro' subterraneous Caverns led,
The Springs of Po expand their silver Bed;
And, Italy from Italy, divide:
There lies a District, on the Western side.
Where, rich in Flock and Herd, in Fruit and Grain
Abundant, Nature spreads an ample Plain.
Here, travel'd Eyes the varied Scene admire,
The rounded Turret, and the gradual Spire;
From Towns and Castles that aspiring rise,
Proud of their wealthy Seats, and claim the Skies.

149

At once for Pleasure and for Plenty fam'd,
The Country all around Saluzzo nam'd.

A Marquis rul'd this happy Tract of Land;
Happy in Him: He rul'd with easy Hand.
Full ready were his Subjects to obey
The mild Indulgence of his gentle Sway.
Obedient to his Will, He govern'd all;
Both Orders, the Great Vulgar and the Small.
Whether, from Merit due, or lucky Fate;
For Worth not always can secure the Great.

Well was He Born, his Ancestry to trace,
No Lombard Prince cou'd boast a nobler Race.
And fair of Face, his Face was fair as young.
Tho' strong of Body, delicate tho' strong.
Nor was his Beauty to his Form confin'd,
His Person was the Image of his Mind.
Where Courtesy, alike, and Honor meet.
Active, but Wise! Indulgent, but Discreet!
In Camp or Council, Equal to preside!
Direct in Battle, and in Law decide!

150

In This I blame Gualtherus (Such his Name)
In This, and almost This alone, to Blame.
But Free from Love, from Error who is Free?
(The softer Sex will sure admit the Plea!)
Heirs, to support his Name, He never sought,
But turn'd to lighter Sport his Daily Thought.
He never weigh'd, how early or how late,
He sat on Matters that concern'd the State.
But Thence releas'd, to Hawk or Hunt prepares;
And well nigh quite neglects all better Cares.
For Cares, He deem'd the Joys of Married Life.
Fall what might fall, He wou'd not take a Wife.

This specious Cause new Disaffection draws.
And when cou'd Subjects find no specious Cause?
(Oft falsely feign'd, but Here sincerely meant!)
So, flocking on a Day, to Court They went.
And One, in Form, They chose from out the Rest
The Common Voice! to utter their Request;
Whether, as Wisest, to Themselves prefer'd,
Or Dearest to their Lord, and better Heard.

151

“Thrice noble Marquis! (Thus with humble Air,
And suppliant Voice, He spoke the Publick Care,)
“If thus assur'd We meet that Honor'd Face;
“'Tis due to thy Humanity and Grace.
“These Princely Qualities our Fears repell;
“You prompt to ease our Griefs, as We to tell.
“My lowly Pray'r then take not in Disdain;
“For Love and Duty force Me to complain.

“But why shou'd I my Pray'r, presumptive, call
“This universal Suit, the Pray'r of All?
“If from my Lips these Words of Licence break,
“Thy faithful Subjects dictate what I speak.
“Oft have I gain'd before like Audience Here;
“Nor wer't Thou wont to give an heedless Ear.
“Then let Me still find Favor in thy Sight,
“Still, pardon my Request, if not Requite.
“While to the Gen'ral Good I point the Way;
“And We, but wait your Judgment, to obey.

“Such is thy Rule, and such is our Content,
“Ought to correct not Envy cou'd invent.

152

“But still forgive, if here with sad Presage
“We doubt the equal Bliss of future Age;
“And wish those Virtues rare, continued down
“To latest Times, that dignify our own.
“To serve Thee, in thy Heirs, thy People want;
“Nor think this Royal Gift too much to grant.
“Then bow thy Neck beneath the Blissfull Yoke;
“The Ties of Wedlock are not easy broke:
“But Love to Marriage lends a Silken Rein:
“Tis not a Servile Bond, but Virtuous Chain.

“Then, oh! reflect, (For here the Danger lies!)
“Reflect, that Time with hasty Pinions flies,
“Time, ever on the Wing, Time stays for none;
“Whether We sleep or wake, or stand or run.
“Tho' blooming now thy Youth, thy Vigour green;
“Age, silent as the Night, creeps on unseen;
“And threatens ev'ry Sex, and ev'ry State:
“No Pow'r can shun the certain Doom of Fate.
“Certain the Doom that He must yield his Breath!
“Uncertain yet the Day assign'd by Death.

153

“If Life's a Blessing of so short a Stay;
“Judge what yourself must suffer by Delay!
“Judge what We suffer! For in this We claim
“An equal Int'rest; To preserve your Name!
“Preserve your Worth! Here ev'ry Voice conspires,
“To leave our Sons as happy as their Sires!
“If never yet We disobey'd your Will,
“Accept our Offer! Be our Parent still!
“Ourselves, to do Thee Fame, will make the Choice;
“A worthy Bride, confirm'd by publick Voice!
“Such as deriv'd from some exalted Line,
“Is fit, and only fit, to match with Thine!

“For This, in full Assembly, We appear,
“Then pardon our well-meant, tho' needless Fear.
“Better declare the Grievance than conceal;
“If 'tis a forward, 'tis an honest Zeal.
“We fear your ancient Rights (which Heav'n defend!)
“May to some new, some foreign Lord descend.

Our free but duteous Care, dread Liege, excuse;
“What much We value, much We fear to lose.

154

Their honest Plea, in modest Speech addrest,
Touch'd with Paternal Care his Gen'rous Breast.
By Reason and by Duty, They were mov'd;
But more than Life his Liberty He lov'd.
That He cou'd ease their Grief, exalts his Mind;
The Manner only leaves a Sting behind.
A doubtful Course propos'd, thro' which to run,
Of Rough and Smooth; a Course he wish'd to shun!
At length the Father o'er the Man prevails,
And Public Int'rests turn the Private Scales.

“Full dear (He said) is future Welfare bought,
“Constrain'd to act the Thing I never thought;
“Forego my Peace; my Freedom lay aside;
“Peace all my Pleasure! Freedom, all my Pride!
“Freedom and Peace! In Marriage rarely found!
“Then What is to be Wiv'd, but to be Bound?

“For Woman is at Best a pleasing Cheat;
“Her Look is Counterfeit, Her Heart Deceit.
“All She affects, to catch our Ears or Eyes,
“Is meer Delusion, Virtue in Disguise.

155

“Nor think I aggravate; when here I view
“So Many married, and content so Few.
“And Most wou'd own, were but the Truth confest,
“That State is an Incumbrance at the Best.
“From Infancy the knowing Dame prepares
“The Child to lay her Baits, and spread her Snares;
“Man is their Prize, and till the Prize They find,
“No Fault appears of Body or of Mind.
“But say sincerely, You that have been caught,
“Which of You boasts a Wife without a Fault?
“A Thousand I cou'd count You in a Trice,
“Of Folly, Noise, Impertinence, and Vice;
“What You may guess, but what I spare to name,
“'Tis my Design to reason, not declaim.

“Some Failures of each Kind in Men We see;
“But in one Failure the whole Sex agree.
“In This, They drive at Universal Sway;
“Unblest till They command, and We obey.
“Wrong I the Sex? By Married Men be try'd
“The Cause.” He paus'd for Answer.—None reply'd.

156

“Yet to your Good my Quiet I resign,
“And yield my Liberty. Your Good is Mine.
“Not born to govern for Myself alone,
“I ever held your Int'rest as my own.
“Then What You kindly ask, I freely give,
“And this the last and surest Proof receive.
“This Friend or Foe! This Good or Ill of Life!
“This specious Charge! This Doubtful Chance! A Wife!

“But for the Choice; Be that our proper Care;
“This Mark of Duty and Affection spare.
“Nor think It matters Ought, whate'er She be,
“Of Rich or Poor, of High or Low Degree;
“Ought, to the present or succeeding Age,
“What Parents for their Children can ingage?
“The Son or well or ill supports his Race,
“As Heav'n directs; The Glory or Disgrace!
“Nor Vice nor Virtue, rightly understood,
“Descend like Titles, running with our Blood.
“Was Honor but intail'd upon our Kind,
“No well-born Prince cou'd show a slavish Mind.

157

“Nought cou'd the Seeds of Infamy reclaim,
“No Vulgar Progeny cou'd rise to Fame.
“Yet say what House observes an equal Mean?
“Where fix'd was Vice or Virtue ever seen?
“View Sire and Son with various Souls indew'd!
“The polish'd Sire begets a Son as rude.
“Yet oft the Circle ends where It begun,
“And the rude Squire begets a polish'd Son.
“No Human Care can Destiny controle;
“Superior is the Pow'r that guides the Whole.
“From Springs unknown are nat'ral Talents giv'n;
“Call it the Force of Fate, or Will of Heav'n.
“Our Lives are subject to Divine Decrees.
“Man only acts as Providence foresees.
“Our Part perform'd, let Providence prepare
“(Here all Precaution fails!) the Future Heir;
“Your Weal or Woe to frustrate or advance:
“Sprung from what Line, You take an equal Chance.
“I too the same resistless Law obey,
“For ev'ry happy, or unhappy Day.

158

“The Pains or Pleasures of the Married State,
“Hang on the same Necessity of Fate.

“Yet far as Human Prudence can secure;
“There let your Common Oath my Peace insure.
“Swear—When in Form my plighted Hands I bind,
“(Whate'er the Object that shall take my Mind)
“All due Obeysance to the Chosen Maid
“Be fully shown; all Homage freely paid:
“Her Right acknowledg'd, from the Nuptial Hour
“As just, as had She brought the World in Dow'r.
“And further; Be it solemnly agreed;
“That None in Thought, or Look, in Word, or Deed:
“Or of her Fortune grieve, or Birth complain.
“Oppose Me here, I hold the Treaty vain.
“This I exact. And Justice This requires.
“Freedom and Peace I yield to your Desires.
“Resign my Body; So the Public Voice
“Demands: But never will resign my Choice.
“Whate'er concerns the State is not withstood;
“Slave I will be, with Pleasure for her Good.

159

“Yet, as a Royal Slave my Port maintain,
“And to my Fancy fit the Fashion of my Chain.”

Assent from All, the just Proposal bore,
And solemnly the tender'd Oath They swore;
Praying, e're yet They took their sev'ral Way,
To fix the Spousal, and assign the Day:
Still dreading that Gualtherus wou'd not wed.
For when cou'd Subjects find no Cause of Dread?

To leave no Doubt of his determin'd Mind;
He fix'd the Spousal, and the Day assign'd.
Term of his Future War, or Future Rest!
A Chance incurr'd (He said) at their Request!
Full low They thank Him on their bended Knees;
For Vulgar Minds well-tim'd Concessions please.
And home again all merrily They tend;
Proud, by their Conduct, to have gain'd their End.

Mean time their Lord (as Marriage Form requires)
Appoints his privy Knights, and trusty Squires,
As well for Pomp as Order, to provide;
To grace the Rite, and dignify the Bride.

160

Strict Charge, on every Chief attendant, lays,
And eager ev'ry Chief the Charge obeys.
Nor Ought was spar'd of Service or Delight,
To dignify the Bride, or grace the Rite.

The Day appointed for the Nuptials came;
The Feast prepar'd: The Marquis still the same.
Not One the chosen Consort cou'd devise.
Tho' what escapes the Courtier's busy Eyes?
To blame their Lord the Vulgar much incline;
So close his Speech, so covert his Design?
And Where They durst, in Secret, or Alone,
Impeach his good Intent, because Unknown.
“Slave to his Ease, (in Murmurs thus They said)
“Imagin'd Ease! He still forbears to wed;
“Our Suit and ev'n his Word, forgot the while:
“Why will He thus Himself and Us beguile?

The Morning pass'd; Approach'd the Noon of Day;
The Ev'ning came: And still the same Delay.
No Name went round! No Bride appear'd in Sight!
Yet were the Nuptials fix'd to crown the Night.

161

Ill cou'd the Croud (suspended to Despair)
Indure such Myst'ry, such Delusion bear.
For still the Palace seem'd the promis'd Word
To keep, and justify its thoughtless Lord.
There neat in Splendor, pompous in Array,
Each spacious Hall and princely Chamber lay.
Rich Furniture in costly Order plac'd;
Never was Seat of Marriage nobler grac'd.
Spread ev'ry Table; ev'ry Office stor'd;
With Delicates to load the Bridal Board.
All that the Compass of Italian Ground
Cou'd yield, or might in Foreign Lands be found.
But why prepar'd? No Mortal cou'd decide!
For what was Bridal Pomp without a Bride?

At Length appear'd Gualtherus, richly drest;
And dawning Hope revives each anxious Breast.
So wand'ring Trav'lers hail the blushing Ray,
That first forebodes the kind Return of Day.
And forth He rides. While all the Royal Court
Attend; All bidden to the Nuptial Sport.

162

With many a noble Dame of Beauty bright,
And many a sprightly Peer, and valiant Knight;
And all the chosen Gentry of the Land,
Common or Squire, an honorable Band:
With These, his trusty Guard, and houshold Train.
And manfully their foaming Steeds They rein.
Who, snorting to the Music's mingled Sound,
Pass to the Vales, the neighb'ring Hills rebound.

Rumor, the while, their close Attention drew;
And busily, from Side to Side, She flew.
A noted Dame attracts their Ears and Eyes;
And mingles many Truths, with many Lies.
A Dame, long practis'd in Intrigues of Court,
Early in Youth She try'd the am'rous Sport;
Nor late in Age cou'd wholly quit the Trade.
Well cou'd She prompt the half-consenting Maid;
And to the wishing Youth sage Counsel lend:
In Her, Each found a most convenient Friend.
Thrown out of Play, She overlook'd the Game;
True Friend to Love! Bauderia was her Name.

163

Unask'd tho' high of Rank, She join'd the Throng,
And thus She tattled as She pac'd along.

“Well! Now! the Marquis has reveal'd his Mind.
“(All hear, on Right, on Left, Before, Behind.)
“Soon as You pass the Wood, and reach the Lawn,
“Where oft in File the marshal'd Troops are drawn;
“You, from your Steeds, fair Ladies, must alight,
“And single pass Review, within his Sight.
“One He will chuse. For tho' He seems to fly,
“He loves the Sex: You read it in his Eye.
“Happy the Fair, to fix his Choice, assign'd!
“And great his Singularity of Mind!
“He lays his Crown and Scepter at her Feet,
“For unexpected Good comes doubly sweet.
“This He devis'd, for He is Good as Great,
“In Honor to the Sex, and to the State;
“Nor sought a Foreign Fair to deck his Throne,
“Proud to display the Lustre of his own.
“This, He declar'd the Cause of his Delay;
“Declar'd in Council, and declar'd To-Day.

164

“But 'twas a Secret kept by his Commands;
“I know it to be Fact, and from good Hands.”.

From Fair to Fair the pleasing Rumor spred;
Hope fills each female Heart, and female Head.
Daughters of Avarice his Wealth devour;
Swell the Ambitious with the Thoughts of Pow'r.
Rank fires the Proud; and Equipage the Vain;
But Self-Opinion seizes all the Train.

Hence, fast They fall to Scandal and Surmise;
As Who might claim, but Who must lose the Prize.
And strait each Beauty ev'ry Beauty nam'd;
And ev'ry Beauty strait each Beauty blam'd.
The Mart of Female Censure knows no Glut;
Bring what You will, They tax it with a But.
While thus, in Scrutiny, All sentence All.
Daphne is Handsome; But She is too Tall!
And honestly to judge 'twixt Friend and Foe,
Silvia is pretty; But as much too Low!
Delia, Men say, is fashion'd for a Wife;
But sure it is a Piece of meer still Life!

165

And Cloe affable, She knows no Pride;
But is She not too Free, or much Bely'd?
Aminta has a Voice, divine to hear;
But then a Mouth that gapes from Ear to Ear!
And Amarillis has a World of Fire;
But then a Tongue that Socrates wou'd tire!
Flavia has Beauty, But her Look is Mean;
Ah think, my Dear, how She wou'd act the Queen!
And Myra, Dignity of Voice and Air;
But oh the Color of her Teeth and Hair!
Trivia is Delicate; But then too Lean,
A living Corps! Half Malady, Half Spleen!
And, full of Health Nerina, 'tis confest;
But 'tis a Beast of Burthen at the Best!
Nature in Phillis made not one Mistake;
But She is Young, who knows what She may make?
And Phœbus in Serpilla's Eyes may shine;
But You will grant 'tis Phœbus in Decline!
The only Charm of Sapho is her Mind;
But to get Lovers She must list the Blind!

166

And Glaura's only Merit is her Shape;
But if You are not Deaf You must escape!
Cælia—(scarce Envy here a Fault cou'd spy,)
Yes, 'tis not seen, But Cælia is awry!
Not one was Worthy (For the Truth to own
Each priz'd Herself) or of his Bed or Throne.
And well I ween, were They to chuse the Wife,
Full long the Prince might lead a Single Life.

Mean time in Royal Pomp, and proud Array,
Along the Dale Gualtherus shap'd his Way;
To where a low but cleanly Village stood,
Wash'd by a Stream, and border'd by a Wood!
Of homely Cots compos'd; For such as fed
The fleecy Kind, or lowing Oxen bred;
For such as mow'd the Meads, or plow'd the Fields;
And liv'd on What industrious Labor yields.

Here, lov'd by All, an honest Rustic dwell'd,
Of all the poorer Swains the poorest held.
Blest with a Soul superior to his Fate,
For all his Wish was suited to his State.

167

Here in this narrow Circle cou'd He find,
What not the World can give, Content of Mind.
But yet what All may on Themselves bestow.
And here It left the High to bless the Low:
The Princely Palace for the Oxen Stall.
Him, good Janicola the Neighbors call.

A Daughter crown'd his Age, of spotless Fame,
Tho' noted Form; Griselda was her Name.
A Fairer, not the journeying Sun surveys,
Or with his rising, or his falling Rays.
A Chaster, never happy Mother bore,
In Days of Present, or in Days of Yore.
Strict in her Duty, faithful to her Trust,
She shun'd Temptation, specious Lure to Lust.
Yet, far as Virtue may, She sought to please;
And honest Toil prefer'd to dang'rous Ease.
Of Diet temp'rate, cautious of Excess,
Drank oftner of the Spring, than of the Press.
For Wine adds Fuel to the tender Breast,
The Springs of Youth not Motion want, but Rest.

168

Wisely she shun'd all adventitious Heat.
Simple her Dress, but yet tho' simple, neat.
Tho' blest of Face, and of a tender Age,
She wou'd not be ingag'd, nor wou'd ingage.
Free from the Dart of Love She kept her Heart,
Nor yet at Others strove to throw the Dart.
Such Swains as sought her Father's Voice to gain,
In Birth not Soul her Equals, met Disdain.
Base Commerce with Superiors She declin'd,
For conscious Worth sat scepter'd in her Mind.
Her aged Father was her tend'rest Care
His failing Nature studious to repair;
And oft his Life her Diligence repriev'd,
Repaying back the Breath She had receiv'd.
And next to That her Duty was to keep,
Nor great the Charge, his scanty Flock of Sheep.
And forth She led Them, soon as Day begun;
And home She drove Them, with the setting Sun.
Then was She wont with filial Joy to bring,
Whate'er produc'd, the Summer, or the Spring,

169

Of Herbs, or Fruits: What Autumn might afford,
Or Winter spare to spread the frugal Board.
In houshold Thrift She spent each vacant Hour,
Arm'd against Pleasure, for She fear'd the Pow'r.
Hence no false Bait cou'd her chaste Heart intice:
For Sloth She counted the first Step to Vice.

Her, as He used to cross the neighb'ring Green,
Gualtherus joy'd to see, and oft had seen.
Her matchless Beauty took his wand'ring Sight,
And hap'ly minister'd unknown Delight.
'Twas the first Dawn of Passion in his Breast;
And neither settled Care, nor total Rest.
More frequent came He here, the various Game
To rouze; nor knew Himself, why here He came.
'Twas thought, the near Adjacence of the Place,
The Country round commodious for the Chace,
Still to this Spot his Course inclines and draws;
Or any Thing beside the real Cause.
Yet hither when He led the Sportive Train,
A secret Pleasure thrill'd in ev'ry Vein;

170

But if averse, He turn'd the flying Prey,
Tedious the Course, and joyless was the Day.
Next, as She charm'd his Eye, She charm'd his Ear,
'Twas sweet Delight her modest Voice to hear;
The native Language of an artless Mind,
Unpractis'd in the Trains of Womankind.
Oft, by Design, He from the Croud wou'd stray,
And oft pretend Occasions of Delay;
Loss of the Sport! Or Failure of his Horse!
And tempt Her to more free, but chaste Discourse.
Still pleas'd (Whate'er She said, Whate'er declin'd)
In humble State exalted Worth to find,
And note each decent Look, and just Reply,
With glad Attention, but with watchful Eye.
Watchful! lest ev'n to distant View betray'd,
Envy might wrong the inoffensive Maid.
Prudential Cares the best Affection prove;
No Vanity He knew, nor yet knew Love.
Sincere Regard protects the Fair from Blame;
Hence what He priz'd, He dreaded to defame.

171

Then, Home as He returns, his Thoughts retrace,
Her winning Innocence! Her bashful Grace!
Her pious Care! Her unaffected Mien!
(Beauties in Courtly Dames too rarely seen.)
Her Form, not spoil'd by Art, by Nature wrought!
And far above her Sex her Manly Thought!
No Poverty of Language to express!
No! Nought of Poverty but in her Dress.
Thus Homeward musing was he wont to ride;
And thus Himself, Himself unknowing, try'd.
“Blest is the Swain, that to his faithful Breast
“This Virgin joins, cou'd Marriage make him blest.
“Yes, I will own, was I reduc'd to wed,
“Or fear'd not, more than Death, that Bondage Bed,
“None, but Griselda, wou'd I chuse for Wife:
“But ah! what Woman answers Slavish Life!
“Not for the Cause, the Many may misguide,
“That in our ancient Ancestry I pride;
“And rather than their Dignity disgrace,
“Wou'd torture Nature, than demean my Race.

172

“Tho' this be Common Sense. 'Tis without Ground,
“Sense is by Truth, not by Opinion bound.
“Much fashion'd Vice from false Opinion springs;
“But lasting Virtue from the Truth of Things.
“Let Vulgar Souls the Worldly Worth define,
“Of hoarded Wealth, or long-continued Line;
“With Me, to be Well-born, is to be Good;
“And Merit, the pure Stream of Noble Blood.
“But whither wou'd these wild Conclusions drive?
“To Where I neither tend nor can arrive?
“Full happy may the Maid (where-e'er her Fate
“Bestows Her) make, and find that Casual State;
“A Bliss, so dear the Price, by me unsought:
“An idle Question! And a wand'ring Thought!”

Thus wou'd He war, to strong Mistrust inclin'd,
Twixt Sense of Love, and Prejudice of Mind.
But now, to quit his boasted Peace, constrain'd,
Now, that no Hope of Liberty remain'd;
These Barriers of his Passion once remov'd,
With Rapture He reflects on Her He lov'd.

173

Then the fair Object, rooted in his Breast,
Stood forth, in all the Pow'r of Fancy drest.
So the pent Stream, obstructed in his Course,
The Damms o'erthrown, pours with re-doubled Force.
So the tam'd Steed with Fury scours the Plain,
When from the curbing Hand He snaps the Rein.

Meantime the Maid, full Innocent of Mind,
Nor knew the smother'd Flame, nor Grace design'd.
With snow-white Pail She sought the Silver Spring,
Thence, Nature's pure Munificence to bring;
Or for her own, or for her Father's Need:
And Home return'd with more than wonted Speed.
For now, She heard her Rustic Neighbors say,
Her Lord wou'd wed, and this the promis'd Day.
And tho' gay Sport was not her fond Delight,
Full fain wou'd She have seen this Courtly Sight.

For This, with Haste She bears the limpid Freight,
Nor dreamt, how near She verg'd on Better Fate;
How soon to change her Cottage for a Throne:
And celebrate no Nuptial but Her own.

174

She but propos'd to end without Delay
The Houshold Labors of the short'ning Day;
Then, at her homely Gate resolv'd to stand,
And with her Equals view the Royal Band;
While to the Lawn their splendid Course They hold:
As Swains returning from Saluzzo told.

Yet Something here She found, nor yet cou'd find
The Cause, that pain'd her Heart, and griev'd her Mind;
Something, that seem'd to trouble and perplex:
Envy, (You'll say) insep'rate from the Sex:
A virtuous Envy still, and well refin'd!
Corrected Vice, uncommon to the Kind!
'Twas not, that other's Pleasure gave her Pain;
'Twas not, that his Regard had made Her vain;
Nor Malice to the Bride, to Her unknown;
Yet cou'd She wish Her any other Throne.
Gualtherus too Her Innocence confess'd,
She cou'd not wish debas'd, to have possess'd.
But had, revers'd, their Distance been as great;
His low as her's, and high as his her State:

175

His Worth, She inly thought, had fix'd her Choice,
No Pow'r, or Wealth had brib'd her Partial Voice.

His Steed, Gualtherus quitting at the Gate,
Gave to a Squire, and bade th' Attendance wait.
Scarce had he enter'd, when Griselda came,
At Distance known: He call'd Her by her Name.
She down her Pail, beside the Oxen Stall,
Hastes to depose, and on her Knees to fall.
And thus in humble Guise continues still,
As One that waits to hear the Royal Will.

Tho' fix'd all Sign of Passion to withstand,
Forward He step'd, and rais'd Her with his Hand.
While All, that of her Innocence or Truth
He fram'd, or of her Beauty felt, or Youth,
Fell short, to what his present Thoughts admire;
Her Eyes, so full of Modesty, yet Fire!
The Discomposure of her Face and Frame,
Blushing, and trembling, with ingenuous Shame!
“Say—is—Janicola?” His Tongue affords
Uneasy Utt'rance to these easy Words.

176

And, cover'd with Confusion as She stands,
“He—is (She cries,) He waits—his Lord's Commands.

Within the homely Cot not long She sought,
And to his Lord her ancient Father brought.
Him by the Hand He takes, and leads aside;
Then thus: “In Me, Janicola, confide.
“My faithful Vassal wer't Thou wont to rest;
“Nor let the Father with the Prince contest.
“No longer will I boast the Pow'r or Art,
“To check my Will, or to disguise my Heart;
“Thy Daughter, chaste of Fame as fair of Sight,
“I claim, but wou'd not claim by Force but Right.”

On Earth the honest Rustic fix'd his Eyes,
Shock'd with Mistrust, astonish'd with Surprize,
At length He rais'd; unable to controul
The Pow'r of Virtue working in his Soul:
“My Sovereign Liege, oh! pardon (He reply'd)
“To serve You, was my Joy, to please, my Pride;
“To please You, and to serve You, as I ought.
“But sure, my Ignorance mistakes your Thought?

177

“If my Griselda may some Merit claim,
“She shou'd not pass thro' Infamy to Fame.
“Not such my early Care, not such appears
“Her cautious Youth; She will not wrong my Years.
“Nor wrong her own. Tho' Daughter of a Swain,
“And bred in Want, She lives without a Stain.
“And may I, of thy Slaves the Meanest Slave,
“E'er Virtue She forsake, prepare her Grave.
“Here, in this narrow Compass Fortune grants
“Sufficient for her Wishes and my Wants.
“Sufficient yields our Flock, tho' small our Fold,
“To guard both Her and Me from Heat and Cold.
“The Stream gives Liquor, and the Forest, Fire.
“Possess We Little? Little We desire.
“Ev'n This to your Benevolence We owe;
“But rather re-assume what You bestow,
“Than We from simple Honesty depart,
“And know a Mind corrupt, or vicious Heart.
“Still may We live, in Innocence and Ease,
“Pleas'd with our Charge, nor basely seek to please.

178

“And, if so far a Father may presume,
“Bear Her to Court, You bear Her to Her Tomb.

The Pleasure that from virtuous Action flows,
The Man of Virtue only feels and knows.
Gualtherus own'd a Joy that rose to Pain,
To find so worthy, yet so poor a Swain.
He smil'd; and to Himself in secret Sport:
“Few had return'd this Negative at Court.”
Then to Janicola. “My fair Design
“Mistake not, Friend. By Right I claim Her mine;
“With Me, (consent but Thou) to lead her Life,
“Not, as You wrong my Sense, but as my Wife.”
Mute with Amaze, and with Confusion red,
“Thy Will be mine,” was all the Father said.

Gualtherus strait, pursuing his Intent,
Within the lowly Cot full humbly went;
The bashful Maid He bade approach Him nigh;
(All this He will'd beneath the Father's Eye)
Surpris'd She stood with Wonder and Delight,
For never had She seen so fair a Sight.

179

And unaccustom'd to so great a Guest,
Pale grew her Cheek, and much disturb'd her Breast.

He mark'd the sweet Disorder of the Maid,
And thus completes the Plan, maturely laid.
“Griselda, know, my Purpose is to Wed,
“And make Thee Partner of my Throne and Bed.
“Thy Father yields Consent our Hands to join;
“What more remains but to solicite thine?
“Ought need I add? The Offer shews my Love;
“And Time, I hope, thy Constancy will prove.
“All that I ask is quietly to live.
“Then freely give, What only You can give.
“The Match, 'tis true, too much of Haste requires;
“Your Thoughts I know not, tho' I feel my Fires.
“To speak my Passion, or thy Truth to try,
“Time fails; then let me add this further Tie.
“Swear, that with ready Will, and honest Heart,
“Like or dislike, without Regret or Art,
“In Presence, or alone, by Night or Day,
“All that I will, you fail not to obey;

180

“All I intend, to forward That you seek,
“Nor ever once object to what I speak.
“Nor yet, in Part alone, my Wish fulfill;
“Nor tho' You do it, do it with Ill-Will.
“Nor with a forced Compliance half refuse;
“And acting Duty, all the Merit lose.
“To strict Obedience add a willing Grace,
“And let your Soul be painted on your Face.
“No Reasons giv'n, and no Pretences sought,
“To swerve in Deed or Word, in Look or Thought.

Hard terms, I doubt, may judge the Modern Maid,
Marriage dear-bought! And Grandeur overpaid!
Not so Griselda. And observe her Life,
All that the Maid propos'd, perform'd the Wife.

“How much thy Vassal falls below thy Care,
(This just Reply She made with modest Air)
“I own; In Indigence Begot and Bred:
“Stain to thy Race, Dishonor to thy Bed!
“This known, was neither Oath nor Vow to bind,
“What honest Heart cou'd stray, what virtuous Mind?

181

“Had Fortune join'd Me to the meanest Swain,
“That tends your lowing Herd, or bleating Train;
“Him to obey, had been my Choice in Life,
“The meanest Swain had found a faithful Wife.
“Thus honor'd, ill I merited to live,
“Gave I not That which only I can give;
“What ev'ry Slave might claim. But if those Eyes
“Have found Ought here to prize, Myself I prize:
“Mindful to Whom I owe my happier Fate;
“Nor yet forgetful of my former State.
“Sense of your Worth, and Gratitude conspire
“To firm this Bond; I swear, as You require:
“Still to remain observant of your Will,
“Your ev'ry Charge religiously fulfill;
“By that sole Rule my future Life to lead:
“Nor swerve in Thought or Look, in Word or Deed.”

“No other Dow'r I ask, (Gualtherus cry'd)
“The World shou'd tempt me to no other Bride.”
Then led Her to the Door: And thus aloud
Accosts the menial and the noble Croud.

182

“Here, on this Seat of Hope, I rest my Life.
“This Maid, and None but Her, I take to Wife.
“To This, my Better Part, that Homage show,
“All that you owe your Prince, or think You owe.

The Ladies then he bade reform her Dress,
(Retir'd within the Cot's remote Recess)
And richly deck, as Princely Rites require,
Nor leave one Remnant of her old Attire;
Resolv'd, that e'er She reach'd the Royal Gate,
Her Bridal Pomp shou'd suit her Wifely State;
Her Mind so noble, and Her Form so fair,
First fix'd his Choice: And last requir'd his Care.

In flock the Fair, to dress the Rural Maid,
On Nuptials pleas'd to lend their useful Aid.
Some mov'd by Duty; by Good-nature Some:
Some meditating Marriages to come;
And ruminating Some on Pleasures past:
Some curious, and Some envious: Most, the Last.
But All, on Entrance, loud Surprize express'd,
To see the Courtly Bride, so Country Dress'd.

183

For nobly born, and delicately bred,
Her rude Apparel rais'd a gen'ral Dread.
Such Linnen, never felt! Seen Garments such!
So rough! So coarse! They almost swoon to touch
Deep-principl'd in vain affected Airs,
Of Framing Fears, and Counterfeiting Cares;
Of Feigning Woe, where They rejoice at Heart;
And Pain Dissembling, where They feel no Smart;
Not One less Horror witness'd than the Rest,
Not One so low, as not to seem distrest.
Each, as the painful Office They pursue,
Oft gave her injur'd Hand, and oft withdrew.
Oft turn'd her Head, ev'n in Griselda's Sight,
Lest other Dames might think Her less polite,
Unless some Sign of Censure She had shown,
That any Thing, so dress'd, shou'd mount a Throne.
Then, sends the speedy Embassage of Eyes,
To prove her Taste, and witness her Surprize;
Then, starting back, her supple Body bends,
As if Infection the vile Work attends.

184

For softer Tasks their polish'd Limbs were made;
This, was meer Drudg'ry! Meer mechanic Trade!
Ill cou'd their whiter Fingers bear the Soil;
Or weaker Arms support the grievous Toil.
“But This the Prince—And he is free to chuse,
“And None in common Manners can refuse.”

This vast Fatigue, with mighty Pain subdued;
More easy was the Charge that next insued.
The Sight of rich Apparel glads the Fair,
Fond to admire, tho' destin'd not to wear!
For now, more sumpt'ous Cloaths th' Attendants brought,
In secret, by their Lord's Direction wrought;
Shap'd to the fairest Maiden of the Court:
(The Measure gayly taken as in Sport)
Cælia the Maid; Alike her Turn and Size.
Such just Observers still are Lovers Eyes!
Full-well each fashion'd Dame performs her Part;
Skill'd in the Myst'ries of the Toilet Art.
By Each some happy Master-stroke was shown,
The flowing Robe adjusting by her own.

185

Rich was the Robe, and glorious to behold,
Beset with costly Stones incas'd in Gold;
The plainer Ground of pure Cerulean Dye;
And oft the Hand was stop'd to feast the Eye.
Her Hair They comb'd, that rudely lay untress'd,
But soon reclaim'd, and in new Order dress'd:
And Store They add of adventitious Charms,
Rings for the Hands, and Bracelets for the Arms;
With pearly Rows, with Golden Bands was grac'd
The rising Bosom, and the falling Waist;
And last a Crown was plac'd upon her Head,
That prominent with Gems a mingled Lustre shed.

Patient, beneath their Hands, Griselda sits,
And to their various Wills her Limbs submits;
But secret wish'd, less Pomp had been prepar'd,
And much of their polite Exactness spar'd.
The Vain with sudden Change are soon elate,
The Stupid have no Relish of their Fate;
The two Extreams She wisely steer'd between,
Her Rule of Action was the Golden Mean.

186

She nor with Idiot-laugh her Bliss proclaims,
Nor with vain Triumph treats the Courtly Dames;
Not tho' She saw her Fortune inly vex:
She mild forgave the Failure of the Sex.
And yet not senseless of her Good remains;
But rising Pleasure prudently restrains.
The Wise their Bliss in Contemplation find;
Joy is not of the Tongue, but of the Mind!
Yet oft with quicker Throbs her Bosom rose,
And oft her Face with warmer Blushes glows;
And softer Smiles to paint her Lips arise,
And brighter Rays to animate her Eyes.
The Fair themselves, that joint Assistance lend,
Not apt the Charms of Others to commend,
With Looks of silent Praise, alternate thrown,
Well nigh prefer her Beauty to their own.
Who (still improv'd beneath their forming Hands)
At once their Love and their Respect commands.

But loud Applause (produc'd in publick View)
The Vulgar add, still fond of What is New!

187

Transform'd (They thought) a new Griselda shown:
Slaves to Appearance, Not transform'd but known!
Not such Material Change their Lord confess'd,
Who bore her fairer Image in his Breast;
Who, not by outward Show, her Form survey'd,
And more her Merit than her Beauty weigh'd.
Yet, for He knew that Dress improves the Face,
(As Eloquence to Sense adds better Grace)
Her just Adornment gratify'd his Sight,
Pleas'd to behold Her in the fairest Light.
He on her Hands, up-rais'd with decent Shame,
Affix'd the Ring, that binds the Nuptial Claim.
Then, on a snow-white Steed, the Virgin plac'd,
With Crimson Reins and Silver Trappings grac'd.
Loud shout the coming and returning Throng,
As to the Royal Court they pass along;
In Revel there the finish'd Day He spends;
Till down the Western Steeps the Sun descends.

But not on Things Minute to dwell too long—
(For copious is the Remnant of our Song.)

188

The new-made Bride with such true Merit shone,
She gave (not borrow'd) Lustre from the Throne.
So form'd her Speech, so fashion'd was her Mien;
So Just, but Mild! So Aweful, but Serene!
Not Envy in her Look or Soul cou'd trace,
Her low Condition or ignoble Race.
In Nought She seem'd by Rustick Parents fed,
In Meanness nurtur'd, or in Rudeness bred;
No Daughter of a Cottage humbly born,
But sprung a Princely Palace to adorn;
Nor only to adorn, but to support;
Not only fill, but dignify a Court.

Her spreading Fame the Crowd with Wonder hears,
(Who knew her Birth) and scarce believe their Ears;
Gaze the Nobility with like Surprize,
And doubt the nearer Evidence of Eyes.
For tho' her lowly Virtue was the same,
Exalted thus It show'd a brighter Flame.
Virtue lies undiscover'd when confin'd,
Unfelt the Will, unless the Power be join'd.

189

Her known Example may this Truth declare,
So Witty, yet so Wise; so Chaste, yet Fair!
So strictly Merciful, so humbly Great!
Such winning Grace, and such complying State!
Her Looks their Love, Her Words their Wonder won,
Diffus'd on All, Indulgent as the Sun!

Not only thro' Saluzzo spread her Fame,
But distant Regions heard her bounteous Name;
And ever lavish on her Praises dwell:
Well as One spoke, Another spoke as Well.
And Thousands came, Alike the Young as Old,
Women as Men, to hear Her and behold.

Thus Honesty for once and Honor wed,
And Humble Fortune decks a Princely Bed.
The dis-believing Lord himself confess'd,
'Twas possible in Marriage to be blest.
At Home his Peace preserv'd the prudent Wife,
Abroad his Wealth supply'd the Wants of Life:
And more than Life requires. For kept from Waste,
Enough remains for Elegance of Taste.

190

And for that Worth, thro' Poverty's Disguise,
Discern'd their Lord, The People held him Wise.
This as no common Incident be told;
'Tis what the People are not apt to hold.

Yet not in Houshold Cares (tho' These alone
Are worthy Praise) her Excellence was shown;
Absent her Lord, full wisely cou'd She guide
The Publick State, The Common Good provide:
In Judgment equal, easy of Access,
Complaints to hear, or Errors to redress.
And ready, as successful, to asswage,
Or private Discontent, or public Rage.
Of Counsel prudent, steady to her Trust,
Strong in Persuasion, in Discernment just.
And when at Strife, (For Strife all States afford)
She reconciled the People to their Lord.
So sought his Peace, and so their Welfare sought,
Urg'd with such Pow'r of Speech, and Strength of Thought;
That rarely was her Judgment found to fail:
And if He held the Sword, She held the Scale.

191

Hence all Degrees, the Senate and the Crowd,
Her Justice own'd, her Clemency allow'd;
A Gift of Heav'n their Fortune to attend,
Not only to preserve the State, but mend.

Blest was the Subject, and the Sov'reign blest!
All shar'd her Worth, He all her Worth possess'd.
Nor yet the Sun had fill'd his Annual Round,
E'er a new Pledge of Love the Nuptials crown'd.
A Daughter crown'd! Whose sweetly-op'ning Face
Adorn'd the Bed with near-resembling Grace.
And tho' (The better to reward her Care)
The anxious Mother wish'd a Manly Heir;
Pleas'd was Gualtherus, nor displeas'd the State,
To find their Wishes half indulg'd by Fate.
For, from that Sample of Inferior Kind,
The Promise of a Nobler—They divin'd.

The Charge Griselda, Mistress of a Throne,
Intrusted to no Care, beside her own.
Gualtherus long oppos'd, at length comply'd,
Dissenting most from Love, but much from Pride.

192

No Matrimonial Jar! For here the Strife
Was not to burthen, but to spare the Wife.
He press'd their common Dignity and Ease,
And yielded but to humor, and to please.
Yet She maintain'd, (her Argument was strong)
“Whole Nature bias'd to preserve their Young.
“Of all the Habitants of Earth and Air,
“Shall Human Kind take less than Savage Care?
“I own (She said) This seems a Country Strain,
“The Language of the Daughter of a Swain;
“What to the Crowd may furnish Mirth and Sport,
“And give Distaste and Wonder to the Court.
“Yet will I say, (For This You taught my Youth)
“Trust not to Show of Things, but to the Truth.
“Be Truth the Rule; Polite or Impolite,
“I weigh not what is thought, but what is right.
“The Point let Courtly Dames with Leave contest,
“This lovely Child shall never quit my Breast.
“'Tis Vice of Fashion! 'Tis Neglect of Kind!
“'Tis Indolence! 'Tis Cruelty of Mind!

193

To such a Husband added such a Wife;
What fairer Scene cou'd yield Domestic Life?
Each seems of Each the Fortune to controul,
Each worthy Each in Body as in Soul
So fair the Road, and so direct to Bliss,
Their Way a Pair so form'd cou'd hardly miss;
Unless with open Eyes They go astray,
And wilfully their fated Joy betray.
And so It chanc'd. To plain Conviction blind,
Gualtherus makes the Ill He cou'd not find.
Tho' never had She shock'd his Ear or Sight;
No Woman cou'd be always in the Right.
This was his Pain; To strong Mistrust inclin'd,
No Proof cou'd turn the Bias of his Mind.
But where to fix a Fault, He seem'd distrest;
Was ever Husband so severely prest?
First for her Beauty; That was free from Blame:
Nature ne'er fashion'd a completer Frame!
Next for her Mind; That gave him less Pretence;
Nought but her Wit was equal to her Sense!

194

Then o'er her Virtue quick his Scruples run;
Fair as the Light, and spotless as the Sun!
Her Duty last He weighs; No Failure past
Appears. Yet restless there He settles last.
Her former Conduct was not void of Praise;
But never was She put to hard Assays.
Perhaps 'twas Indolence! Perhaps 'twas Art!
Int'rest or Fear! She acted well her Part!
Content in trivial Things is easy shown!
Obedience by the Proof is only known!

To vain Disquiet of their common Lives,
Thus Tyrant-Husbands tempt their Subject-Wives.
Full-unadvis'd We deem; Some think full-wise.
But obvious (duely judged) the Error lies.
Mischances numberless, to cause Debate
On either side, affords the various State;
This Want to aggravate, that Sense to vex.
The Lesson We apply to either Sex.
Some heedless Word or Action may offend,
Speak ne'er so kind, and ne'er so just intend;

195

Whence Noise and Strife, Mistrust, Aversion springs.
Add here the common Casualty of Things.
Each to the Other by Alliance bound,
But then Each borders on the Other's Ground.
On Truce howe'er let Marriage-Warfare cease.
Act not Hostilities in Time of Peace.
Till Provocation raises fresh Alarms,
Let Neither rouse the Bosom Foe to Arms.
When safe a-shore thy shatter'd Bark repair,
The Gale of Hymen blows not always fair.
Pierce not in wanton Sport her weaker Sides,
Enough has She to bear from Winds and Tides.
If then those Ills, that Neither can prevent,
Wives suffer patient; Husbands, live content!

Alone, by Night, where lay the Royal Dame,
With Visage sternly-sad Gualtherus came;
Whom in unwonted Terms He thus address'd.
“Griselda, say! Retains thy faithful Breast,
“Some just Remembrance of that Golden-Day,
“When first I threw your rural Weeds away,

196

“And with more fitting Pomp and Splendor grac'd?
“Or, say! Has Time the grateful Thought eraz'd?
“And Dignity, by Use familiar grown,
“Made Thee o'er-look the Cottage in the Throne?
“Yet not so many glorious Months have run,
“Since this thy new-created Pow'r begun.
“Review Thyself, and by Reflection know,
“High as You stand, that once You stood as low.
“'Tis Thine this Grace with Duty to requite.
“For That, I chose the Silence of the Night,
“Safe from each list'ning Ear, and prying Eye,
“Thy Constancy to prove, thy Truth to try;
“Pay you just Faith, or feign'd Regard pretend.
“Then know my Will, and strict Atttention lend.

“E'er since the Day that first prefer'd You here,
“Not by Thyself thy Life was held more dear.
“Part of my Own! But far the better Part!
“You shar'd not more my Fortune than my Heart.
“Not such the Love You from the Subject claim,
“Grievous They think the Load, and great the Shame.

197

“Up-rais'd from humble State thy Worth to see,
“(Thy Worth unknown) up-rais'd to high Degree!
“Begot in Slav'ry! In a Cottage born!
“Their private Laughter! And their secret Scorn!

“But ever since that hapless Child You bore,
“Loud are their Plaints, not wholly dumb before.
“My Rule in Ills, is still to make the Best,
“(Some Ease may follow, if not total Rest)
“And press, or yield, ambitious of Repose;
“Just as the Tide of Faction ebbs or flows.
“Thy Daughter now—(and since the Child was born
“Not thrice the Moon renew'd her silver Horn)
“Thy Daughter now—their Tumult must appease,—
“Not as I wou'd—But as my People please—
“How loth to act the Deed—bear Witness Heav'n!—
“Nor will I act—unless your Voice be giv'n.—
“An equal Share You claim.—But fully know—
“(And here your wonted Soul, Griselda, show)
“Know, your Concurrence is my stated Will!
“Yield! and by Deed your plighted Word fulfill!

198

“Act what You swore upon our Marriage Day!
“Mine then was to command, your Office to obey.”

She all unmov'd the hard Condition hears;
Nor Ought concern'd in Look or Thought appears.
No Change his strict inquiring Eyes cou'd read.
Much less oppos'd She or in Word or Deed.
But said: “My Child, Myself too I resign!
“Dispose at Will, my Lord: Your Will is Mine.
“In You just Property of Either lies;
“And Either for your Good, or lives, or dies.
“My Soul (as Love and Gratitude require)
“Likes, What you like; desires, What you desire.
“Beside Yourself Nought else is left to chuse;
“And Nought beside Yourself She dreads to lose.
“This, (by your Grace since first our Hands were join'd)
“Has been her first fix'd Principle of Mind.
“This! Neither Change nor Fortune can displace;
“Nor Length of Time, nor Fear of Death deface.”

Pleas'd was Gualtherus against Nature's Laws.
Cou'd Pleasure spring from such an odious Cause?

199

Prepost'rous Joy! By Virtue not refin'd!
Unworthy of Himself or Humankind!
Yet long his Thoughts seem'd with themselves at strife,
As doubtful to pronounce for Death or Life.
Then, as resolv'd, a pensive Leave he took;
Disturb'd his Gate, determin'd was his Look.

Thence sped; a Messenger of Death he sought,
To whom He full reveal'd his secret Thought.
Before prepar'd, at Distance due to stand,
And strictly execute his Lord's Command.
Much on his Faith and oft had he rely'd;
But in less Sanguinary Service try'd.
Whate'er the Order giv'n, He spar'd no Pain,
For from his Diligence accru'd his Gain.
When Need or Danger call'd, was ever near,
From Love or Duty, from Respect or Fear;
The greater the Attempt, the bolder still;
And there is but one Step from Bold to Ill!

Strait to the Chamber where Griselda lay,
Commission'd by his Lord, He took his Way.

200

And sternly turning from the Infant Maid,
Humanely, as his Nature cou'd, He said:
“Displease the Act, Necessity may plead
“Excuse; not Choice, but Force exacts the Deed.
“And well the wise Griselda understands,
“That Royal Mandates claim obedient Hands.
“Much may we grieve the while, and long complain,
“But to object, or to resist is vain.
“'Tis Loss of Time, 'tis Sorrow thrown away;
“The sooner eas'd, the sooner We obey.
“Such is my Fate; commanded by my Lord
“To seize this Child.”—He seiz'd Her at the Word.
The tender Infant, innocent of Harm,
Smiles on his griefly Beard, and hugs his bois'trous Arm.

To Few, such Energy of Soul is giv'n,
As show'd Griselda; 'Twas the Gift of Heav'n.
At once she summon'd ev'ry Pow'r of Mind,
And stood the Stress; foreboding, but resign'd.
The Man She knew; Suspicious was his Name!
Suspicious was his Office and his Fame!

201

Nor less Suspicious was the Time and Place!
But more Suspicious still his Speech and Face!
What She must feel (The Wretch so arm'd and drest!)
Is easier to be fancy'd, than exprest!
All, that the Prince in dubious Words let fall,
All, that Reflection cou'd to Mind recall;
Seem'd true: (Her Apprehension, wrong or right)
All that She fear'd, seem'd acted in her Sight.
A bloody Scene of Innocence distrest!
An Infant, torn, and murder'd, from her Breast!
An Infant, by her hourly Tendance fed!
Sweet Inmate of her Chamber and her Bed!
Add here, just Cause of Horror and Affright,
The Silence and the Darkness of the Night!
The strange Neglect of Him her Soul approv'd,
The Man She honor'd, and the Man She lov'd!
To crown the Whole, this Ruffian Guard appears;
Who can conceive It without Sighs or Tears?
Black were his Locks, and nigh upright They stood,
Smear'd were his Hands, as exercis'd in Blood.

202

But, to do Justice to the virtuous Tale,
Supply in Mind, where I in Language fail.
Think by the Wife and Mother what was born,
By Duty there, here by Affection torn;
And be the Strife, if not describ'd, conceiv'd:
'Tis scarce to be imagin'd, or believ'd.
Yet, as recorded Rolls the Fact relate,
She bore the Storm, collected and sedate.
And since her Lord had doom'd the Child to die,
Nor from her Bosom stole one stifled Sigh;
Nor from her Eye escap'd one secret Tear:
Tho' never Mother held a Child more dear.

The Messenger of Death, She mildly pray'd,
To reach the Child; whom on her Lap she laid.
And gently begg'd, “E'er yet her sentence past,
“One Kiss She might bestow, since 'twas the last.”
Then with such Firmness, as no Tongue can tell,
“Farewell, my Child, (She said) my Child, farewell!
“Full-long a Flight thy thoughtless Soul must take,
“Constrain'd to suffer, for thy Mother's Sake.”

203

A State so woeful, Who cou'd see or hear,
Without a social Sigh, or friendly Tear?
What Nurse, that turns her Tendance to a Trade?
What mean Domestic? Mercenary Maid?
Well might the suff'ring Mother feel Distress!
Yet no Concern her Looks or Words express.
So strongly Love and Gratitude cou'd bind!
And such her Force, and her Command of Mind!

She to the Guard, whose Aspect Horror bred,
“Here, take thy little Charge (compos'dly said)
“Go! Act thy Office, as thy Lord commands.
“Yes, Royal Mandates claim obedient Hands.
“And what is his Desire, is my Content.
“Yet, with his Leave (nor will He here dissent)
“Depose her Body in some sacred Place;
“Where neither Birds may touch, nor Beasts deface.”

To This, no Word the Ruffian deign'd to say,
But seiz'd the Child, and sternly stalk'd away.

Strait to his Lord the Messenger repair'd,
And faithfully, what He observ'd, declar'd;

204

And, far as Tenderness cou'd touch his Breast,
Told all, He thought, She suffer'd, or express'd.
Gualtherus, Who esteem'd him plain, but just,
In the Recital loses his Distrust.
Till, fresh Possession, Prejudice regain'd;
“Go, execute (He cries) as I ordain'd.
“Convey the Child.”—A Trial so severe
Sure Mother never felt! As You shall hear.
Ev'n tho' his Heart, inclining to relent,
Oft seem'd to disapprove it, and repent;
Firm He maintain'd his settled Purpose still,
And, as the Great are wont, wou'd have his Will.

The Part assign'd, at Forfeit of his Life,
The Guard performs. Gualtherus seeks his Wife.
Full-fast imagining, in secret Thought,
Or in her Looks to see some Strangeness wrought,
Or some Confusion in her Words confest;
But smooth He found her Brow, and calm her Breast!
Collected in Herself She rests Sedate;
Nor swell'd with high, nor sunk with adverse Fate!

205

Submiss and Chearful, as She wont to prove!
In Duty Faithful! Diligent in Love!
Unchang'd her Turn of Speech, and Bent of Mind!
Wise, as Agreeable! Discreet, as Kind!
Nor mention'd once her Tongue her Daughter's Name;
A Loss She cou'd not praise, but wou'd not blame!

Hence the fourth Sun had fill'd the Year complete,
And vary'd the due Change of Cold and Heat.
Unchang'd to Her the varying Seasons run;
With Peace concludes the Day, with Joy begun.
The only Cause, that cou'd disturb her Breast,
Was that She found Gualtherus ill at Rest.
A Child He wish'd. Nor cou'd Griselda find,
Why that unvalu'd Wish shou'd pain his Mind.
So free to part with what was in his Pow'r;
Yet now, He counted ev'ry Day and Hour.
At Length, Heav'n gratify'd his full Desire;
And doubly bless'd the Mother and the Sire.
A Son was born. All hail the hopeful Boy;
Their common Safety, and their common Joy!

206

All, that their Country love, and Faction hate!
All, that wish well to Sov'reign, or to State.
Unfruitful deem'd the Wife, the Daughter dead;
The Want of Issue new Commotion bred.
The Next-ally'd in diff'rent Parts divide,
And draw the giddy Croud on ev'ry Side.
Pride and Ambition no Occasion lose,
To feast on Heirless Crowns with eager Views.
While Fuel ev'ry neighb'ring Pow'r supplies,
And blows the Blaze, in Hopes to reap the Prize.
When now a Son appear'd, oppos'd to All,
The Factious, from their high Pretensions, fall.
This Turn their Pride, if not their Cause, befriends;
Each ends the Contest, where his Rival ends.
The Loyal joy'd, to see the Tumult cease,
A firm Foundation laid for lasting Peace,
All disagreeing Int'rests reconcil'd;
And hail'd with kind Presage the Royal Child.
Lovely the Child, and Manly to behold!
Mild, as his Mother! As his Father, Bold!

207

Scarce the third Year began with full Repose,
When, to disturb the Calm, Gualtherus rose.
Hapless in This, that Happy was his Life;
Again must He assay the Patient Wife.
Capricious Husband, to Conviction blind!
What Proof cou'd fix that doubtful Turn of Mind?
If long Experience but augments your Care?
Must Man provoke, and Woman ever bear?
Survey the State of Wedlock at a View,
A Case so strange, Who ever heard or knew?
The Husband lives dissatisfy'd in Thought,
Because the Wife lives guiltless of a Fault.
Tempt Her He must; full-vainly, dare I say.
Men keep no Bounds, where Women will obey.
Imperious most, to Those that most indure.
Such, He. But Patience is a sov'reign Cure.

When Night had spread her sable Umbrage round,
Griselda, hanging o'er her Boy, He found.
“Know (He began) but This thyself must know—
“Thy Marriage has produc'd a World of Woe.

208

“The Subject ill our first Affiance took,
“With lying Voice, and counterfeited Look.
“A Daughter born, They lessen'd their Disguise;
“Their Spleen arose apparent in their Eyes:
“A Son, their open Malice kept no Bound.
“And on the Mother their Distaste They found.
“'Tis true, not yet the Clamor strikes our Ear;
“With Terror yet the bad Report I hear.
“Tho', ill or well, the Prince observes his Trust,
“Faction is dang'rous, or unjust or just.

“What Slav'ry (thus the Disaffected cry)
“Attends Saluzzo, shou'd Gualtherus die!
“Then shall Janicola's mean Blood succeed;
“His base-rais'd Offspring! His opprobrious Breed!
“Then shall They lord it! Hold the foremost Place!
“What Hope of other Rule, or other Race?
“Then well may Villagers our Rights support!
“And Slaves receive the Honors of a Court!

“Tho' distant yet the Voice of Discontent,
“Thus warn'd, let Prudence the Increase prevent

209

“E'er yet in open Audience They complain:
“That done, the Terms propos'd may then be vain.
“For judge but of the Future by the Past,
“All private Murmur will speak loud at Last.
“What Need of Words? To open all my Soul—
“Better resign a Part, than lose the Whole.”

He paus'd, and sighing—“Yes, It must be Done;
“The Fate your Daughter found, attends your Son—
“By the same Hand, on the same Hour of Night,
“Torne from your Bosom, carried from your Sight—
“Harder the Trial, with the Boy to part,
“Longer in View, and nearer to your Heart—
“He grew to Sense, was knowing, and was known—
“The Loss, a Parent well may feel, and own.
“For This I came, to warn You and persuade,
“To summon ev'ry Virtue to your Aid.
“Lest hurried from Yourself, You quit the Rein,
“And ill your Trust and Character maintain.”
Thus He; the Wively Patience thus rejoin'd.
“This, have I said; and This, I bear in Mind:

210

“Your Will is Mine! Your Pleasure, Mine I make!
“Forsake Me, Life, e'er I this Rule forsake!
“Slain as your Daughter, let your Son be Slain;
“Confirm his Being, or his Death ordain!
“In Her, in Him, no Claim Griselda knows,
“But her long Vigils, and Maternal Throws.
“What, but a short Amusement was her Gain,
“For previous Sickness, and successive Pain?
“All other Right belongs to You alone;
“Yours be it, to conduct what is your own.
“Consider my Content, below your Care;
“In neither Child Griselda claims a Share.
“I too am Yours, in all and ev'ry Part,
“For when you gave your Hand, I gave my Heart.
“Not that I plead Affection, yet deny
“Obedience due; I own the forceful Tie.
“From that then blest to this still happy Day,
“(E'er-since You threw my rural Weeds away)
“Then I acknowledg'd, and acknowlege still,
“That with my Habit I depos'd my Will,

211

“Freedom of Action, Liberty of Choice;
“Griselda's Voice must still confirm your Voice,
“Urge what You urge, forbear what You forbear:
“I wait your Order, as your Dress I wear.
“Nay more: Had I your Thoughts by Prescience known,
“Such passive Duty had not now been shown.
“With your Felicity I cou'd not part,
“Tho' ev'ry String It tore that brac'd my Heart.
“Myself had been as forward to propose,
“And quell the Tumult, e'er so high it rose.
“But now that your Resolve is fully told,
“Determin'd as your own, my Purport hold.
“And were my Death but wanting to your Ease;
“Death wou'd I bear, to serve You, or to please.
“For Death, that weak or wicked Minds may move,
“Makes no Comparison to Loss of Love.”

Her steady Virtue fill'd Him with Surprise;
Long on the Ground He look'd with musing Eyes:
Then left her Presence, in Appearance, sad!
But glad at Heart! Cou'd such a Heart be glad!

212

And strait, the Ill-presaging Russian came,
The same in Gesture, and in Face the same.
Rude, as He seiz'd the Sister where She lay,
He seiz'd the Brother; or in ruder Way.
Worse than before, if worse He cou'd devise,
More insolent his Steps, more stern his Eyes.
A Scene, all human Nature must detest!
Yet cou'd the feeling Mother steel her Breast.
She clasp'd the Boy, then, (wonderful to tell!)
She gently kiss'd, and mildly bade farewell.
And thus address'd the Minister of Death:
“This let me crave, when He resigns his Breath,
“This (if your Lord object not) let me crave!
“Provide my little Son a decent Grave!
“His tender Limbs, full delicate to Sight,
“Protect from Birds by Day, and Beasts by Night!
She, humbly ask'd; He no Return affords:
Unless in Looks, more horrible than Words.

Her Strength of Soul, Gaultherus more and more
Admir'd; a pure, but in-exhaustless Store!

213

Like Gold, extracted from long-hidden Mines,
That still the more 'tis try'd, the more refines.
Yet was He not content. To such a Bent
Of fix'd Mistrust, no Proof cou'd give Content.
For now, his Quiet studious to perplex,
He ruminates the Malice of the Sex!
The Face of Ease, that hides the secret Smart!
The Tongue, still-ready to bely the Heart!
And oft, had there been Room, He seem'd inclin'd,
To term her Patience, Cruelty of Mind!
Such dread Effusion of her Infant's Blood,
Unmov'd, what tender Mother had withstood?
And tho' He knew (by strict Observance prov'd)
That next to Him each tender Child She lov'd;
And, but that Him She lov'd, lov'd more than Life:
He doubts the Woman, forc'd to praise the Wife.

He waited, if in Look, or Word estrang'd,
Her Fondness lessen'd, or her Temper chang'd.
But neither Word nor Look admit a Doubt,
For all seem'd Peace within, and Joy without.

214

One Harmony of Face and Soul appears;
Days following Days, and Years succeeding Years.
More true as She advanc'd in Age, She grew;
(Cou'd genuin Truth be said to grow more true!)
As if by Nature, not by Marriage, join'd,
Two Forms were influenc'd by one Ruling Mind.
Whate'er he sought, seen or unseen his Aim,
Same as his Will, her Pleasure was the same.
She thought, 'twas not her Province to contest,
Her ready Faith suppos'd it for the Best.
Whether the lovely Offspring liv'd or dy'd;
Much tho' she fear'd, She cou'd not well decide;
But still her Soul this Principle maintain'd,
That if They dy'd, Gualtherus was constrain'd.
She judg'd it his Misfortune, not his Fault,
For much of his Humanity She thought;
And much of her Concern this Thought remov'd,
She knew, He cou'd not part with what He lov'd.
This Sacrifice, if boist'rous Faction claim'd,
She own'd, Hemust assent, nor cou'd be blam'd.

215

But was it possible to steer between
The Father and the Prince, and guard the Mean;
She cou'd not frame the Risque, He had not ran,
For so She took, nor so mistook the Man.
Hoping the Best, and to the Worst resign'd;
Such was her Force, and Confidence of Mind.

Thro' all this mild Complacency of Life,
Fell She, as Mother, yet She rose as Wife.
No other Good, besides his Good, She knew,
Of Worldly Int'rest, or of Private View.
No Loss, beside his Loss, cou'd give Her Pain,
No Gain advantage Her, beside his Gain.
These were her Rules, these Hard but Golden Rules,
(Not well observ'd in Matrimonial Schools.)
Wives on their Husbands shou'd rely alone;
And by maturer Judgment mend their own.

Not so the Subject; Where his Conduct fail'd,
More strict to mark, than where his Worth prevail'd.
Fond of Complaint, and ready of Surmise,
Each Princely Virtue, They cou'd turn to Vice.

216

That here much Cause was giv'n, (must be allow'd)
Much to alarm the Council and the Croud.
Dark the Design. And wide the Rumor spred,
And equal Horror and Compassion bred.
The Silence of the Court some Guilt confess'd;
The Children missing, Malice adds the Rest.
Doubtful as He in Conduct, They severe
In Censure, send the Tale from Ear to Ear.
“Gualtherus, by unthinking Love misled,
“First makes his Slave the Part'ner of his Bed.
“And then, the Stain impatient to indure,
“Adds to the vile Offence a viler Cure.
“But what had the long-suff'ring Mother done?
“(O'er Things unknown thus knowingly They run)
“The Children, What? Then, such unnat'ral Death,
“Giv'n by the Hand, that shou'd preserve their Breath!”
On Facts uncertain, while the Croud debate,
They hate, that lov'd; that lov'd not, doubly hate.
Loud was His Infamy, as once his Fame!
“A Murd'rer! an accurst, detested Name!

217

“A Villain, not from Passion, but Design!
“Abjur'd by Laws, both Human and Divine!”
Yet might the People murmur, or assent,
Gualtherus firm pursued his fixt Intent.

But check a-while, my Muse, thy looser Rein,
To court the Judgment of the Female Train.
Full-fain wou'd I consult, in Time and Place,
Their learn'd Opinion; Doubtful is the Case.
Declare, Which, of the Two, was most to blame?
Was He too rigid, or was She too tame?
Each Husband left sole Arbiter of Life,
What wou'd become of many an honest Wife?
What wou'd She suffer, sentenc'd to submit,
From all his Pride of Sense, and Spleen of Wit?
Or grant such Trials, as Griselda ran,
May show, that Woman is the Slave of Man;
Say, might not these for any Wife suffice?
What cou'd a harden'd Husband more devise?
To Try her Faith? Her Constancy to prove?
Great, You must own, her Patience, and her Love.

218

But 'tis a Truth the Sex need not be told,
That Men are model'd in a various Mold.
And Some, as old and new Experience finds,
Indued with most perverse unyielding Minds.
In These, whatever Sense first strikes their Thought,
(Or wrong or right) th' Impression deep is wrought;
Dying, They keep the first Resolves They make,
Bound to Opinion, as a Bear to Stake.
If properly the Object strikes his Sight,
'Tis great good Luck, the Obstinate goes right.
But sure the Chance is more than equal found,
That wrong He goes, yet travels round and round.
Submit, intreat, diversify, explain,
Inlarge, confirm, confute: The Task is vain.
To satisfy the Purport of his Will,
Th' Event must follow, be it Good or Ill!

Twice, from the Nuptial Day, sev'n Years were told,
And twice seven Years the Nuptial Trials hold.
Each Proof severe, Griselda firmly pass'd,
Yet One remain'd behind, the Worst, tho' Last.

219

A Doubt, He rais'd, and nourish'd in his Breast;
Nor, till He found the Truth, cou'd think of Rest.

“There are (He judg'd) a Race of selfish Mind,
“That own no Tie of Nature, or of Kind.
“Who rigidly their Breasts to Others steel;
“Yet, for Themselves, most sensibly They feel.
“Such hear, with equal Ease, the parting Groan
“Of Them They never knew, or long have known.
“And view the Wreck, without Distress or Care,
“Of Those that bore Them, or of Those They bear.
“No Partner, They, of joint Affection, own;
“Their Pleasure, and their Pain is Self alone.
“And such She is, or what, I'm yet to learn!—
“Hence, her Submission! Hence, her Unconcern!
“If try'd in Self, She ends as She began,
“She must be more than Woman, more than Man!”

Thus He; such early Prejudice He nurst;
That the last Trial but includes the first.
For This, a Messenger to Rome He sent,
(Now was the Time to give the Scruple Vent.)

220

In legal Phrase, the Marriage to annull,
And counterfeit in Form the Papal Bull.
His hasty Passions to this Course incline,
The shortest Way to answer his Design.
“Take, for your Plan, some old Pontific Frame;
“Fashion'd anew, the Use will be the same.”

At Rome, the Messenger arriv'd, and sped;
A forging Hand, He found, and scheming Head.
Nor well cou'd fail in that prolific Court,
Where Surrogates, Scribes, Proctors, Priests, resort.
Twas model'd, Like to Like, and Word for Word;
He sends a formal Copy to his Lord:
Who, as He us'd on Points of high Debate,
Conven'd all Orders that compos'd the State.

Summon'd, They meet; The Prince assumes the Throne:
Then thus, with sterner Brow, and haughtier Tone.
“Content, as fortunate, in Single Life,
“You forc'd Me on that dang'rous Rock, a Wife!
“A Wife I chose, (nor now disguise the Truth)
“From Heat of Blood, th' Intemperance of Youth.

221

“One, whose excelling Form my Passion mov'd,
“I lov'd; and All seem'd Right, because I lov'd.
“No other was my Motive, or my Aim,
“I neither sought your Interest, nor my Fame.
“My riper Age this Folly wou'd attone,
“Strength to your State, and Lustre to my Throne,
“I wou'd acquire, in Kindred Grandeur ty'd;
“The Fair, to great Peganus, near ally'd.
“For This, the Papal Chair our Envoy moves,
“The State will sanction, what the Church approves.

A long and hoarse Applause th' Assembly roars,
Like rolling Waves that murmur to the Shores.
These, Slaves by Nature, born to bear the Rod,
Swallow'd his Words, as Oracles from God.
Those, from long Habit, custom'd to the Bit,
Their Duty thought, to hear and to submit.
Others, approv'd It not, yet not withstood,
From frigid Virtue, indolently good.
But Some, from sordid, or ambitious Views,
Prais'd the Design, and pray'd, “No Time He'd lose.”

222

And so had acted, was the Case his own,
And good Gualtherus sentenc'd from the Throne.

Yet Some, of nobler Soul, but These were few,
Place all Griselda's Merit full in View;
Her Worth, of Private and of Public Kind,
Her blameless Conduct, and unerring Mind.
And with bold Truth, and gen'rous Ardor plead,
Th' Injustice, and Dishonor of the Deed.
Tho' Prince and Subject join'd their gen'ral Voice,
No Pow'r cou'd authorise the guilty Choice.
Let Pope and Synod their whole Strength unite,
That which is Wrong, They never cou'd make Right.
“Repudiate, without Cause, the faultless Dame?
“'Twas Tyranny! It soil'd a Life of Fame!
“They humbly differ'd, and the harsh Divorce
“They cou'd not counsel! 'Twas an Act of Force!”

Here, rising, “'Tis my Will, (He said) Withdraw”—
Nor till that Hour had urg'd his Will for Law.

Meantime, the trusty Guard returns from Rome;
And all Saluzzo mourns Griselda's Doom.

223

None penetrate the Fraud, or doubt a Wile,
So was It fram'd in true Pontific Stile!
So fraught with Church Sufficiency and Pride.
And thus the Apostolic Roll imply'd.

“That He, the Delegate of God, the Pope,
“Their Heav'nly Guide, and their Terrestrial Hope,
“In kind Compliance to his Son's Request,
“(Weighing the People's Good, and Prince's Rest)
“Did, and Hereby, Authority had giv'n,
“(In Virtue of his Right deriv'd from Heav'n)
“To nullify the Marriage from that Hour,
“Save, to the Wife whate'er She brought in Dow'r;
“With sundry meanless Items, queint and old;
“So sign'd! So seal'd! So witness'd! So inroll'd!—”
To this, was added, for the Subject's Ease,
A Load of Pardons, and at mod'rate Fees.

Handed from Heav'n the Scrole, the Croud believ'd;
To Slav'ry prone, and form'd to be deceiv'd.
Moles, that in Darkness center'd their Delight!
The Day, to Them, had been a Pain of Sight!

224

“The Pope, infallible, with one Accord,
“They held, nor less infallible their Lord.
“For what their Lord requir'd, the Pope allow'd.”
Take but in largest Sense the Term of Croud!
Nor try'd by Fortune, nor by Birth defin'd,
But Honesty of Heart, and Worth of Mind.
Without these Qualities, let Princes know,
They are themselves the Vulgar, and the Low.

The rude Saluzzians swallow'd all the Bait,
(I mean the Number of the Small and Great)
“In Heav'n, They own'd all Marriages were made,
“Yet was the Prince by Heat of Youth betray'd.
“If then contracted Parties disagree,
“Apply to Whom, but Him that keeps the Key?
“What other Pow'r cou'd finish the Debate,
“And shut and ope the Matrimonial Gate?”

There wanted not, in all her Doubts and Fears,
Some to convince Griselda's Eyes and Ears.
Prompt to insinuate what the Prince intends,
(And These, the formost of her Female Friends)

225

With cruel Pity They lament her Fate,
“So alter'd He, and so estrang'd of Late!’
Others, maliciously, to hurt her Rest,
Who thought in Silence They had read her Breast,
“Urge the Barbarity, that cou'd destroy,
“By Turns, the lovely Girl, and hopeful Boy.”
Others, to like Humanity inclin'd,
“Hint at the Bride, and the Divorce design'd;
“And were They bound to lead so curst a Life,
“Wou'd rather be the Relict, than the Wife!”
To This, She own'd, “Appearances were strong,
“But yet, She cou'd not think He cou'd do Wrong.”

What Force of Virtue cou'd the Shock sustain?
Love, so severely try'd, yet try'd in vain!
And, tho' her Looks no Change unusual show,
Full deep her Heart, I deem, was charg'd with Woe.
But, humble tho' her Birth, her Soul was great;
Form'd to indure the worst Extreme of Fate:
Fix'd, from his Pleasure, never to depart,
To Whom, She gave her Innocence, and Heart.

226

Free was her Breast from Sighs, her Face from Tears,
Tho' well confirm'd th' unwelcome News She hears;
Knows, on what Message, and with what Intent,
The frequent Envoys to Bulogna went.
Where rich Peganus rul'd with peaceful Sword,
Whose Wife was Sister to her faithless Lord.
This Princess, with humaner Talents blest,
A Mind, resplendent as her State, possess'd.
To learn her Manners, foreign Dames resort;
The Virtues, not the Vices, of a Court.
Among the Rest, a Maid excelling fair,
Was still distinguish'd with peculiar Care,
Bred from an Infant, tho' of Birth unknown,
The Royal Pair respect Her as their own.
And Her, 'twas rumor'd, on his Change of Life,
The Marquis of Saluzzo chose for Wife;
To dignify his State, adorn his Bed:
And wide the Fame malicious Echo spred.
“That now Griselda must resign her Claim,
“For from Bulogna a new Consort came;

227

“Bright as the Sun, and youthful as the Day,
“With splendid Equipage, and rich Array.
“The great Peganus, to augment her State,
“With all his noble Lords in Order wait;
“The Kindred Maid respectfully to guide,
“And Her young Brother, riding by her Side:
“Who to Saluzzo shap'd direct their Way,
“The distant Journey lessening, Day by Day.”

Say, was not This sufficient to molest?—
The hard Gualtherus might have spar'd the Rest.
Thro' Silence some Humanity had shone,
Pity might lessen Wrong, tho' not atone.
But He, when full the Court, to tempt Her more,
Thus spoke, in boist'rous Terms, unus'd before.

“Not much displeas'd, tho' chose from humble Life,
“I saw You fill the Station of a Wife.
“Not for your Beauty, Birth, or Wealth, or Youth.
“But for your Duty, Faith, and Love, and Truth.
“Yet, now I find, by sad Experience wise,
“That in great Lordship, greater Slav'ry lies.

228

“To This conspir'd my Fortune and my Fate;
“Tho' Prince, yet lowest Vassal in the State.
“Debarr'd, where ev'ry Swain may use his Voice,
“Freedom of Will, and Liberty of Choice.
“A Wife to wed, the Public Care ordains,
“And now, to quit that wedded Wife constrains;
“A new, is sought: Nor is the rising Flood
“Of factious Discontent, to be withstood.
“For This, full Pow'r to loose my former Vows,
“Th' indulgent Father of the Church allows.
“And a new Bride is chose, and on the Way,
“To obviate all Suspense, and all Delay.
“Be strong of Heart, and void anon the Place.
“Yet This I grant You. Take it as a Grace.
“All that You brought Me, on the Nuptial Hour,
“I grant You. Take it All! That Princely Dow'r!
“But well wou'd You observe, What I advise;
“Know, They, can never fall, that never rise.
“Then chuse an Equal, on the peaceful Plains,
“And live the little Princess of the Swains!

229

“Lost to a Palace, in a Cottage rest.
“None may presume, for ever to be Blest.
“Yet, this Celestial Gift to All is sent,
“To bear the Stroke of Fortune with Content.”

“I am not now to learn (She strait replies)
“The wond'rous Distance that between Us lies.
“Me, not your partial Choice, cou'd worthy make,
“To share your Grandeur, or your Bed partake.
“Yet if this House, (as Heav'n may Witness bear)
“I enter'd Wife, I liv'd not Mistress there.
“As best became, I study'd to behave,
“As One, above your Slaves, your humblest Slave.
“That there so long, I held the foremost Place,
“I think it not my Merit, but your Grace.
“And if a fitter Consort You require,
“Content, to my Paternal Cot retire;
“Humbly to dwell, where humbly I was bred:
“Nor share your Grandeur, nor partake your Bed.

“There, clean of Heart, the Widow, as the Bride,
“Will live, if not to You, to None ally'd.

230

“Nor shall it be my Blot, while Life remain,
“To soil your Choice by any vulgar Stain.
“That once You deign'd to join Me to your Side;
“This Thought let Me indulge of Royal Pride.
“This single Thought! May Heav'n propitious grant,
“In Her You chuse, the Wealth and Birth I want.
“Pleas'd, for your Good, the Station to resign,
“That was my Bliss, that once, my Lord, was Thine.
“Thence, priz'd by Me. Disturb'd if I depart,
“'Tis not, to lose your Fortune, but your Heart.

“Such Dow'r You proffer Me as first I brought;
“Those rustic Weeds! Yet where may Those be sought?
“Well I remember, on the Nuptial Hour,
“With Scorn, You threw aside that wretched Dow'r.
“Far other then, your Gesture, and your Mind!
“In Look, how gentle! And in Speech, how kind!
“But I have heard, and prov'd the Saying true;
“Love is not, when 'tis old, what 'twas when new.
“Yet, shall no Fear of Death constrain my Will,
“(Death the last Line of Human Good and Ill!)

231

“Low as I fall, at Fortune to repine,
“Proud of the Thought, that once your Heart was mine.
“Then, when You rais'd your Vassal to your Breast,
“And rudely clad before, full richly dress'd;
“Obedient Duty, and unspotted Fame,
“Was all I brought. No other Dow'r I claim.

“But why recall to Mind that blissful Day?
“You wish It had not been, and I obey.
“Then down I lay this Scepter from my Hand,
“(Here, never borne, as Symbol of Command!)
“Cast, from my Head, this decorated Crown,
“And from my Body, loose this ermin'd Gown.
“And last this Ring, (This last let me restore!)
“What, with unwearied Constancy I wore.
“Lodg'd, in the Stores, the Rest your Orders wait;
“Your Gifts of Love! Or Ornaments of State!

“Naked I came, and naked I return,
“Nor must I, since It suits your Grandeur, mourn.
“This only let me beg, nor beg in vain,
“For What I brought, and never can regain!

232

“For all my Duty, Faith, and Love, and Truth!
“Untainted Chastity! Unpractis'd Youth!
“Years, that I pass'd! And Children that I bore!
“(The last unguarded Words She hurried o'er.)
“Grant me such Cloaths as fit Griselda best,
“A Common Garment, and a Rustic Vest.
“An Outcast let me be. Yet This I pray,
“Let me not, like a Worm, go by the Way;
“The People's Laughter, and their Lord's Disgrace.
“For this may cast below my Servile Race!
“Below her State, that once was call'd your Wife!
“None, with Immodesty, can tax my Life.”

With Dignity unalter'd This She said,
Her Cheeks alone effus'd a warmer Red.
Compos'd, tho' pain'd! Determin'd, tho' distrest!
The Prince was mov'd, as every Eye confess'd.
“Your Vest Retain” (impassion'd He reply'd)
“But quit all other Marks of stately Pride.”
He cou'd no more.—His Voice its Utt'rance lost,
And this last Proof He tempted to his Cost.

233

Silent He stood, with agitated Breast;
But his Look witness'd many a Sigh supprest.
Yet Tears wou'd flow, a voluntary Tide,
And These He strove, and strove in vain to hide.
His Heart, against his stubborn Will, conspir'd;
Aside, He turn'd; and hastily, retir'd.

Her Condescension struck so strong a Light;
It fill'd the Court with Horror and Affright,
“May I be never to such Ill betray'd!”
In Silence sigh'd the unexperienc'd Maid.
Each Widow, to her Secret Friend, alone,
Whisper'd, “Thus treated, He had had his own.”
And ev'ry Wife attested Earth and Heav'n,
“Twas a mean Act, a bad Example giv'n!
And ancient Maid, with ancient Maid began;
“How great our 'Scape, Who never yet knew Man!”

Meantime Griselda secretly withdrew,
And disarray'd Her, safe from public View.
Conforming, far as Decency allow'd,
She shun'd the Noble and Ignoble Croud.

234

All, that She cou'd, She left of her Attire,
And no Intrusion furth'ring her Desire;
The Postern Gate She pass'd, the publick Street
With naked Head She gain'd, and naked Feet.

But soon the Croud her noted Form descry'd,
And pour'd before, behind, on ev'ry Side.
Down hast Thou laid, in vain hast Thou laid down,
Thy Robe, thy Ring, thy Scepter, and thy Crown!
Stript of thy State, thy native State They find;
Grandeur of Mein! And Majesty of Mind!
Exil'd in Thee, thy Exile They attend;
The Friendless, that, in Thee, still found a Friend!
The Motherless, that met a Mother's Care!
For 'twas thy Good, thy Good with all to share!
Hence, bare-foot as She trod the flinty Road,
Their Vestments o'er the rugged Way They strow'd.
And not one Breast refus'd a pitying Sigh;
Void of a Tear was not one melting Eye;
Grief in each Voice, and Face, exprest, and shown!
In ev'ry Voice and Face, except her own!

235

Tho' loud They spred her Praise, and urg'd her Wrong;
She curb'd Resentment, and restrain'd her Tongue!
Silent She mov'd, majestically slow,
As One, in Pain that pleasur'd, joy'd in Woe!

But wicked Fame precedes with nimbler Tread,
The Father reaching in his homely Sted.
And tho' the long Neglect, Year after Year,
Had caus'd Him many a Sigh, and many a Tear.
Never to touch the Court on Pain enjoin'd;
Whence, proud, He thought, his Prince, or Child, unkind!
Yet musing with himself, full oft He said;
“By Force of Love, Gualtherus was misled,
“That Fire once cool'd, his Lust will yield to Pride,
“And the Wife fall a Victim to the Bride.”

Tho' Length of Time had fortify'd his Breast,
The sudden Rumor rous'd Him from his Rest.
His Cloaths, from off his aged Breast, He tears,
From off his aged Head his hoary Hairs.
Devotes the Light, and deprecates the Day,
And Life, impairing with too slow Decay.

236

Then seeks, with anxious Care, his Rustic Hoard,
Where his fond Heart her Virgin Habit stor'd;
Sav'd, to indulge his Mind and to imploy,
In pleasing Pain, and melancholy Joy.
Now, found of Use! He speeds with feeble Haste,
Cover'd his Child, lamented, and imbrac'd.

Here, for a Space, remain'd the Patient Wife,
And, thrown from great, returns to vulgar Life.
Yet never once was heard her Lord to blame,
Tho' spirited by many a busy Dame.
Above the Pow'r of Fortune, or of Fate,
She rose, in Good, or Ill, alike sedate!
In Good, against Distress, She arm'd her still,
And still prepar'd Her, for Success, in Ill.
This was her Character, by All allow'd,
“Virtuous, tho' Beautiful! Tho' Great, not Proud!
“Discreet, as Witty! Sprightly, as Serene!
“Sage, but not Sad! And Humble, but not Mean!”

On Job, Priests flourish still, with wond'rous Ease,
And Priests on Job may flourish, if They please.

237

We mean not, here, to enter the Dispute.
Yet Priests can prove, a Woman is a Brute;
And, (when it serves their Turn) a Man, a God:
But 'tis the safest Way to kiss the Rod.
Yet when the Man of Uz, whose perfect Life
They gloss, and blazon the intemp'rate Wife,
Who bade Him to his Face, curse God and die;
Mean They the Sex? Sure, Priests may err or lye!
Yet, not to stab the Church, but gently probe,
I say, Griselda far transcended Job!
And fast as Men, cou'd Women Texts expound,
As many Female Suff'rers wou'd be found!
Women than Men, more patient, and more true!
This is my Faith,—But then, It holds of Few.

Gualtherus, his Emotion, soon repress'd,
Resum'd his Mind, and fortify'd his Breast.
“Wond'rous her Faith, (He commun'd with his Heart)
“Wond'rous her Love, if free from female Art!
“To bear submissive, such repeated Wrongs,
“That Temper, rarely, to that Sex belongs!

238

“Nor ev'n to seek, from Words, or Sighs Relief!
“Was It, Excess of Patience, or of Grief?
“Again, not once reproach, not once withstand!
“'Twas great Disguise of Soul, or great Command!
“Sustain such Weight of Woe with tearless Eyes!—
“But, to the Covert, for Relief She flies.
“There, doubtless, vents her Rage, and makes her Moan,
“Echo, pays Sigh for Sigh, and Groan for Groan.
“Then, change the Scene, from Privacy of Place;
“Yes, let her see her Rival, Face to Face.”

Thus, as He meditates the full Assay,
Arriv'd a Courier, and at Prime of Day;
To notice: “That the Princely Youth and Dame,
“With great Peganus, from Bulogna came.
“That, safely They had pass'd the Rocky Way,
“And hop'd to reach Him with the Setting Ray.

Meantime, the Banish'd Wife, at early Dawn,
Unfolds her Flock, and follows to the Lawn;
To Where Gualtherus, loit'ring in the Course,
First stop'd, from Love, or Failure of his Horse.

239

There, lowly seated on the dewey Ground,
She feeds her little Charge, that bleats around;
And plies the Distaff, that before her stands:
Yet slow, the Widow'd, to the Virgin Hands.
For, tho' the Twine with equal Care She wrought,
Oft, wou'd intrude, an interrupting Thought;
Oft, wou'd her Soul, her former State retrace:
“Exalted Honor is a slipp'ry Place!
“Tho' Palaces are high, and Cots are low;
“Here, lies sure Peace! There, lies destructive Show!
“But Mind, is All to All, Mean or Sublime!
“Mind, is not to be chang'd, by Place, or Time!
“In Time, or Place, Unblest, or Blest can dwell!
“Can make a Hell of Heav'n, a Heav'n of Hell!”

Thus musing: For the Proof, Gualtherus sends,
She, quits the calm Reflexion, and attends;
In Dress, a Shepherdess: The same, to see,
As on her Marriage Day. She bends her Knee.
But He, more slow to raise Her with his Hand,
Nods and imparts his last severe Command.

240

“This Day, We celebrate the previous Rite;
“Griselda! Know, our Nuptials crown the Night.
“Full, to Profusion is the Palace stor'd,
“With All, to deck the Bed, or cheer the Board.
“Yet much I fear, the Feast may wrong my Soul;
“For Execution, mends, or mars the Whole!
“Tho' gen'rous the Design, and large the Cost;
“All Beauty is in Want of Order lost.
“Not One, thro' all Saluzzo, can I find,
“That knows, so well, my Manner, or my Mind;
“The Guests, or to distinguish, or invite:
“Put Show to Use, to Profit turn Delight.
“But You, long wont this Station to support,
“Can best advise, what suits the Prince and Court.
“Again exert the Talents You have shown,
“Display, at Large, the Splendor of my Throne;
“Add ev'ry outward Instance of my Love:
“All, that I might omit, but must approve.
“But chiefly turn You to attend the Fair,
“Be That your Daily Thought, and Nightly Care.

241

“'Tis True, this Rustic Garb may show Neglect;
“But well it suits your State, if You reflect.
“For, Pride of Dress, is sure a barren Curse;
“E'er Fancy you consult, consult your Purse.
“This is my Will. Proceed, without Delay!
“And do the proper Honors of the Day!

“Much I rejoice (the mild Griselda cries)
“That on my Faith your Confidence relies;
“And hail the Cause, that brings Me to the Place,
“Where oft, at Distance, I may see your Face;
“And oft your Voice, with due Attention, hear:
“Thus far I may indulge my Eye, and Ear!
“In honest Diligence, thro' servile Life,
“Pleas'd will I tend the Husband and the Wife.
“Assiduous, to prevent what She requires,
“Solicitous, to check my own Desires.
“So will I act (if but my Heart allows)
“As I ne'er knew your Flames, or heard your Vows.”

Her Answer half defeated his Design;
“Our Confidence You see—the Trust be Thine!”

242

He Said. She mingles with the Menial Train,
No Service She neglects, and spares no Pain;
To grace the Bed, or magnify the Throne:
And forms a Feast more splendid than her own.
Intent, or to dispose, or to provide;
But pains Her most, for What concern'd the Bride.

This done; each noted Chief, each noted Dame,
She summons to the Feast; so call'd, They came.
These She receives, as suits their Rank or Race;
In vulgar Habit, but with noble Grace!
Arranging All, (for such her Lord's Desire)
From wealthy Citizen to landed 'Squire!
Equals in Place, not Worth! From hardy Knight,
To Him, that never saw the Face of Fight!
From Peer that builds on Ancestors his Fame,
To Him, that founds his Title and his Name!
From learn'd and just Dispenser of the Laws,
To Him, that judges, by the Bribe, the Cause!
From Seer, whose Charity gives Health, and Ease,
To Him, that poisons, for the Sake of Fees;

243

From Priest, of Life unstain'd, and Zeal sincere,
To Him, of Holy Fraud, and pious Leer!

Enter, of Good and Bad, a mingled Crew.
'Tis the true State of Things, or Old, or New!
Virtue, and Vice, divides each mixt Degree!
Such, was the World! And, such, will ever be!

But as her Care descends from Bow'r to Hall,
All still inspecting, still amending All;
Thus to a Maid of Rank, a Wife of Spirit:
“Say, in her Meanness, see you any Merit?
“I vow, by all the Virtue of my Pride,
“Was I Griselda sever'd from his Side;
“Then cast, as Handmaid, to a second Wife;
“Slave to his Will, yet trusted with his Life,
“The present Bondage shou'd redeem the past,
“Bridegroom and Bride, this Night shou'd be your last.”

Meantime the Foremost of the Train alight;
And fast the People pour'd to see the Sight.
Close, and more close, the murm'ring Insects grew,
Should'ring for Place, and crouding for a View.

244

And much They prais'd the Show, and much the Choice.
Ah! Who wou'd rest upon the Public Voice?
Griselda's Rise with equal Noise They hail'd;
With equal Noise Griselda's Fall bewail'd.
Be deaf, fair Stranger, to their senseless Cries,
Thus wou'd They treat thy Fall, Who treat thy Rise.

“Gualtherus is no Fool (the Croud confess'd)
“Changing his Wife, but changing for the Best.
“Griselda wants no Merit to ingage,
“But fairer, This, and of a softer Age.
“Griselda, was inur'd to brook Command,
“And so may This, when molded to his Hand.
“From her, what Heirs will spring the Throne to Grace?
“For She descends from some exalted Race.
“The Brother comes, as Sample of the Line;
“What Lineaments?—Majestic, and Divine!”

O Vulgar Souls, unstable and untrue!
Tir'd with the Old, transported with the New!
Turn'd by each Blast, as fickle as the Fane!
And faster than the Moon, Ye wax, and wain!

245

Hapless the Prince, whose Ear, delighted, draws
The Praise of Crouds, and swallows vain Applause;
Whose Eye, transported, views the supple Round
Of Courtiers, whom He trusts, yet fails to sound.
His Ear may be misled, deceiv'd his Eye;
Crouds can praise Folly, Courtiers, look a Lye.
Safer, the Call of Virtue to pursue,
That sep'rates Wrong from Right, and False from True.
Tho' Crouds may change, unfaithful as the Wind!
Can They depose the Monarc from his Mind?
Tho' Courtiers from Allegiance may depart!
Great is the Empire of an honest Heart?
For inborn Worth, alone, knows no Controul,
Fortune may change the State, not change the Soul.
But Good, or Ill, as Man pursues or flies,
So truly He may fall, so truly rise.
'Tis Virtue gives Him in high Life to shine,
Virtue, in low, is an unminted Mine.
The Force of Each was in Griselda shown,
Great in a Cot, and humble in a Throne!

246

Thus, of the Many mad, the sober Few
Adjudg'd; Who lov'd the Old, and fear'd the New.
“And Fools, (They call'd the Number) to disown,
“For Good They know not yet, a Good long known!

In State, She enters now the Palace Gate,
And ent'ring is receiv'd with answ'ring State.
The Prince descending fast, to meet the Bride,
A Dame of high Condition join'd his Side;
Tongue of the Sex, She fastens on his Ear,
And thus express'd her fashionable Fear.
“A Shepherdess, She said, is such a Sight,
“It soils the Splendor of the Nuptial Rite;
“Excuse me, 'tis not my peculiar Plea,
“Here all the Sex in one Request agree;
“We make it our Petition and Desire,
“Griselda may redress Her, or retire;
“Nor stand, to Foreign Lords, a Mark of Sport,
“And Scandal to the Ladies of the Court.

Nought, to his Scheme, so cross as this Request.
He veil'd the Truth, and gloss'd it with a Jest.

247

Known was the Dame, to love supreme Command,
And hold the Bridle with a steddy Hand.
“Ought to the Fair, it grieves me to refuse,
“But 'tis too Late, another Course to chuse.
“Griselda's inward Merit well You know;
“And what is Dress, but a fictitious Show?
“Yet, seek You, why to Court thus rudely brought?
“Young is our Bride, and should be mildly taught.
“This rural Garb is Humble, and is Plain;
“In Public shown, this Maxim to maintain.
“Plain Truth, and humble Duty, suits a Wife;
“An Emblem, for the Conduct of her Life!

I pass, as Trivial, nor the Tale prolong,
With Masque or Dance, with Minstrelsy or Song.
Nor, drawn by Fancy, deviate from the Way,
For kind Reception here, there grand Array.
I leave each Train, their Princes at their Head;
The Youth and Virgin by Peganus led:
Whom, long, Gualtherus fasten'd to his Breast,
And All, and Each, with kindred Warmth caress'd.

248

I dwell not on the Maid, in fresh Fifteen,
Whether array'd in White, Red, Blue, or Green.
Nor count how promising the Boy appears,
How Manly, measuring Half his Sister's Years.
Here glean, ye Bards, who barren Subjects chuse;
Griselda will admit no wand'ring Muse.
Short of her Virtues, tho' thy Numbers flow,
Muse, keep Her First in Sight, tho' Last in Show.

Her copious Mind makes All her single Care;
But most She strives to serve, and joy the Fair.
Natives or Strangers, pleas'd and proud to see;
The Whole She ranges, Each in his Degree.
The foreign Lords a due Surprise express,
So much, her Manner supersedes her Dress.
Nor stints her Tongue the Youth and Maid to raise
With Praise well judg'd; For they deserv'd her Praise:
Tho' not to Flatt'ry vile her Words descend,
No flatt'ring Courtier cou'd her Words amend.
A gen'rous Flow of Soul, that scorn'd all Art!
Unsoil'd by Envy! Genuine, from the Heart!

249

Some Worth it argues, a Friend's Worth to know;
Virtue, to own the Virtue of a Foe.

Now, was the Hour, the Guests to entertain,
And, One by One, precedes the Houshold Train.
Just, at that Season, e'er the Board was crown'd,
While All prepar'd to join the Social Round;
Gualtherus turns, Griselda to explore:
“Seek Her,” He said; But sent his Eyes before.
And where He spy'd Her busy'd in the Hall,
“Attend,” He calls; And She attends his Call.

“Griselda,” (with Indiff'rence feign'd He said)
“You see the Maid I chuse, and mean to wed.
“Speak (He continued with a Face of Sport)
“What think You of our Bride? Make just Report.
“How to her Form, how to her Worth, inclin'd?
“Pass Sentence, on her Person, and her Mind!”

She, mildly took the Word, and strait reply'd;
“Ill tho' the Relict might commend the Bride,
“No Malice of the Sex, no Spleen of Wrong,
“My Mind shall bias, or mislead my Tongue.

250

“Never these Eyes, in perfect Age, cou'd trace,
“A juster Form, or yet a fairer Face.
“Never, from Youth imperfect, heard these Ears,
“Thoughts so exprest, the Words of ripen'd Years
“Base is the Office, wrongly to debase;
“Lessen her Worth, I rise not in her Place.
“With Truth I praise Her, and without Design;
“Her Want of Merit, wou'd not add to mine.
“What, fully She exacts, I freely give;
“And may, Each blest in Each, securely live!”

Thus as She spoke; Warm grew the Virgin's Face,
Rosy her Breast. She blush'd with modest Grace.
Then back retir'd, by her own Praise subdu'd.
Griselda seiz'd th' Occasion, and pursu'd.

“This, let Me add, by long Experience wife,
“And once presume Gualtherus to advise.
“Judge ne'er so hardly of our Sex or Life,
“Ill Usage may pervert, not mend, a Wife.
“When from the Bounds of Reason Men depart,
“What, but the Force of Truth, and Faith of Heart,

251

“Retains Affection, too severely prov'd?
“Twice, think not, to be so indur'd, and lov'd.
“Try not, as me You try'd, this tender Maid,
“To summon more than Virtue to her Aid.
“If I, to Pain was senseless, deaf to Mirth,
“I owe It to the Lowness of my Birth.
“The Hand to Labour us'd, the Heart, to Care,
“Ills I had borne, and Ills cou'd know to bear.
“But She was nobly born, and fondly fed!
“In Plenty nurtur'd, and in Grandeur bred!
“Not like Griselda rais'd from low Degree;
“By Thee to be debas'd, prefer'd by Thee!
“She, in the Trust of Innocence and Youth,
“Nor doubts your Constancy, nor fears your Truth.
“Soon wou'd She feel Distress, soon find a Cure;
“She cou'd not well Adversity indure;
“Well, cou'd She not, such Load of Grief, sustain:
“For Death wou'd soon arrive, and ease her Pain.”

She spoke, from inward Ties of Kindred Blood,
Or nobler Sympathy of Good to Good;

252

Firm as a Column, stable as a Wall:
Her Grandeur more conspicuous by her Fall.

The gen'rous Answer, free from Spleen or Art,
Rose inly on his Mind, and fill'd his Heart.
“Too far, too far, (In Extasy He cry'd)
“Griselda, was thy Wifely Virtue try'd.
“Resume thy wonted State, thy wonted Cheer
“Resume; nor think Me faithless, tho' severe!
“Enough have I assay'd thy Love and Truth;
“Assay'd, to riper Age from tender Youth;
“So well, as never Wife, in Pomp array'd,
“Or clad in Poverty, was yet assay'd.”
He said, and by his Side Griselda plac'd,
Fast seiz'd Her in his Arms, and long imbrac'd.

As One, from cumb'rous Sleep disturb'd, She seems,
Doubtful, if yet She wakes, or still She dreams;
If real Forms stand obvious to her Sight,
Or float the airy Shadows of the Night.

He noted her Confusion, Silence broke,
And gently press'd her Hand and kindly spoke.

253

“By Him, I swear, for Man that bled and dy'd,
“Thou art my Wife, I seek no other Bride.
“Worthy thy Praise the Maid I must agree;
“Must joy to praise Her,—For she comes from Thee.
“And Thee, in Her, thro' all her Form I trace,
“May She, in Soul, but match Thee as in Face!
“Thrice five Years told (if Love not blind these Eyes)
“States all the Diff'rence that between You lies;
“In Age or Beauty. Oh! that Heav'n decreed,
“Her Virtue to thy Virtue might succeed.
“Thy Daughter This, first Object of thy Care!
“And That thy Son, Saluzzo's future Heir!
“Assassin'd? No! Not such our base Intent.
“Safe were the Infants to Bulogna sent;
“To good Peganus privily convey'd:
“His worthy Consort rais'd the Youth and Maid.
“That here They stand thus honor'd in thy View,
“Say, to his gen'rous Heart, what Thanks are due?
“That, in thy View, thus polish'd, here they stand,
“What Thanks are due to her reforming Hand?

254

“A second Mother She, at our Desire,
“Conceal'd their Birth; He prov'd a second Sire.
“My Motive, was Mistrust; To own the Truth:
“A stubborn Prejudice, imbib'd in Youth!
“Wedlock, I judg'd, a Station of Unrest;
“I found no marry'd Pair compleatly Blest:
“And for the Male, too hasty to decide,
“Plac'd ev'ry Error on the Female Side.
“I thought your Failures to our Faults gave Rise,
“Your Folly, Falseness, Levity, or Vice.
“Hence, the first Trial, hence arose the last.
“But well the Future shall amend the Past.
“Hence was you sworn a Life submiss to lead,
“Nor swerve in Thought or Look, in Word or Deed.
“Hence, with our Daughter when constrain'd to part,
“I held your Duty, Indolence or Art.
“Hence, was the Son propos'd. The Son resign'd:
“This Proof of Love, seem'd Cruelty of Mind.
“Hence, was You try'd in Self. With honest Shame,
“I own the Crime: Griselda was the same.

255

“But fixt Suspicion is the worst of Woes,
“And Nought but Certainty cou'd bring Repose.
“Let Malice, (Room there is) our Conduct blame,
“Yet my Severity shall raise your Fame.
“And cou'd You penetrate my inmost Breast,
“There wou'd You find indelibly exprest,
“Griselda fills my Heart. My Wealth, her Gain.
“My Bliss, her Pleasure. Her Distress, my Pain.
“And when most calm her Breast, serene her Eye;
“Here, many a Tear She caus'd, here many a Sigh:
“And let This mitigate, if not atone,
“Each Trial was not Thine, It was my own.
“And if thy Virtue thus exalted shine,
“Thine is the Treasure, the Discov'ry Mine.”

She that cou'd bear Misfortune, that had borne,
Each Infant from her tender Bosom torne!
Cou'd to a Cottage from a Throne descend,
And, the great Bed, She had adorn'd, attend.
From Low to High, from High to Low re-tost,
Cou'd see, whate'er on Earth She valu'd, lost.

256

She that cou'd stand the last Contempt unmov'd,
Yields to the Yielding of the Man She lov'd.
Sinks at the Thought of either Child restor'd,
Whose Loss in Secrecy She long deplor'd.
Patient in Ill, in Injury resign'd!
Here first She quits Equality of Mind.
While, all her Wish in her Possession stood.
Fast flow'd her Joy, like the returning Flood.
The Swell of Passion rose to such a Height,
'Twas painful Pleasure, and severe Delight.

Kind as He spoke, with Rapture and Amaze,
Her Eyes She gives upon her Lord to gaze.
And quits but to survey, with silent Joy,
The lovely Maid and near-resembling Boy.
All moves her, that She heard, or that She view'd;
Strong on her Soul the Tides of Joy intrude.
Fain wou'd her Tongue have open'd all her Breast;
But there She felt, what cou'd not be exprest;
Vain the Indeavor. For in Transport tost
Her Voice was stopt, her Breath in Rapture lost.

257

Wound to Excess of Gratitude and Love,
Her Pulse forgot to play, her Heart to move.
No more her Form the vital Heat retains,
Slow pass'd the Current circling in her Veins.
The Dews of Death her trembling Limbs assail.
Her Lips grew livid, and her Cheeks grew pale.
Sounds, disproportion'd to her Thoughts, She hears;
Unmeaning Murmurs echoing thro' her Ears.
While misty Vapors, that in Fancy rise,
Cloud the sole Objects that cou'd charm her Eyes.
She faints. She falls. But, sinking to the Ground,
He caught her in his Arms. The Court surround.

Ye tender Youth, in Love Unblest, or Blest,
Imagination lose, and paint the Rest!
Virtuous or Vitious, be your Course of Life,
Feel you no Pain, for Husband or for Wife?

Reclining on his Breast, She pants for Breath;
As pleas'd to die, since there She found her Death.
He looks the Aid, He wants the Pow'r to give;
As in her Life alone He wish'd to live.

258

A gen'ral Care the Courtly Train confess,
Joy mixt with Sorrow, Pleasure with Distress.
These fan'd her Bosom, Those her Head sustain'd;
While Death o'er Life a doubtful Conquest gain'd.
Of Art and Nature ev'ry Aid They bring;
The cool Refreshment of the limpid Spring!
The Juice of Herbs, that noxious Steams repell!
Of Shrubs the Virtues, elegant of Smell!
Of Drugs and Simples the salubrious Pow'rs!
Extract of Salts, and Quintessence of Flow'rs!

Thrice seem'd her Eyes, to ask the Cheer of Light,
Thrice seem'd to sink in everlasting Night.
And thrice He hail'd her as restor'd from Death,
Thrice wail'd her irrecoverable Breath.

At length She mov'd, and wildly gazing round,
First in her Care the pleas'd Gualtherus found;
Next, weeping o'er Her, joy'd the Maid to see,
And last the Boy, that trembled at her Knee.
The fond Assemblage pour'd, without Controul,
On her weak Sense, and mollify'd her Soul.

259

By Turns She seiz'd them, and by Turns She press'd,
The Father and the Children to her Breast.
Adown their Cheeks the mingling Torrents flow,
The Streams of Transport, not the Streams of Woe.

The sweet Contagion spred like tainted Air;
From Youth to Youth it pass'd, from Fair to Fair.
And many a gen'rous Heart breath'd many a Sigh,
And many a Tear shed many a gentle Eye.
A Scene so sweetly sad, Who fail'd to feel,
Must have an Eye of Flint, or Heart of Steel.
Long Silence follow'd. 'Twas not Time for Speech.
Looks best explain, what Words want Pow'r to reach.

Mirth to restore, Gualtherus soon began,
Ironically grave; for that the Man.
“A Shepherdess is such an aukward Foil,
“The Splendor of the Feast She needs must soil.
“That She shou'd change her Garb, on me you call;
“And I agree; for 'tis the Plea of all.
“Ladies, with Joy I grant you this Request,
“Yes! Let our Wife retire to be re-drest.

260

“Nor stand to Foreign Lords a Mark of Sport,
“Or Scandal to the Beauties of the Court.”

Pleas'd, She retir'd. For well She read his Mind.
A Train of busy Females flock behind.
And now more busy None of all the Train,
Than Some that witness'd Pleasure in her Pain;
But She that Office to the Bridal Maid
Assigns, nor wish'd, nor wanted, other Aid.
The Maiden Bride was charm'd with the Imploy,
The Sun, She knew, must set in Grief or Joy;
Late made no Stranger to her Sire's Intent:
And, as She griev'd, she joy'd for the Event.

Soon was She disarray'd, and soon attir'd,
For there lay All or More than Dress requir'd;
All that cou'd wish the Vain, or ask the Great,
In Aid of Beauty, or in Pride of State.
Nor senseless of their Value was the Dame;
Not senseless! when She thought, from whom they came.
Strait She return'd, Resplendent to behold;
Of Silver was her Vest, her Robe of Gold.

261

The Hoards of Ages, that her Crown compos'd,
Took Lustre from the Tresses they inclos'd.
High in the Seat of Honor was She plac'd;
The Seat her Virtue fill'd, and Beauty grac'd!

The Guests, in Order rang'd, the Prince addrest,
And with a noble Freedom op'd his Breast.
A gen'rous Sense of Shame unloos'd his Tongue;
The Wise and Brave dares say, that He was wrong:
If Virtue errs, She errs against her Rules;
'Tis ever the Reverse with Knaves or Fools:
For wilful Faults, These mend not, or not own;
Too weak to see, or wicked to atone!

“Friends! to the Self-accus'd be not Unkind;
“Full dear I nourish'd this Distrust of Mind.
“Painful the Trial, as severe the Test;
“Had the Wife fall'n, the Husband was Unblest.
“Be her's the Honor; mine be the Disgrace;
“Yet shall my Choice beam Glory on my Race.
“Nor Friend, nor Foe, that Act of Life shall blame;
“That was my own; and is my Praise, not Shame.

262

“First, that beneath low Birth, and mean Disguise,
“Beauty and Virtue cou'd not 'scape my Eyes.
“Next, that I held Gentility of Blood
“Consists, in Scorn of Ill, and Pride of Good.
“Last, that I prov'd, Worth equal, whence it springs!
“From Cots of Swains, or Palaces of Kings!

“Remains there Ought, Griselda can desire?
“Yes, much is due to her neglected Sire.
“What must the Good Janicola have borne,
“To think his Worth the Object of our Scorn?
“What, not indur'd from Solitary Life?
“What, not expect the Father for the Wife?
“To give his innate Virtue full Support,
“Be mine the Care; He will not shame the Court
“Here, shall he bear the Rank his Merit gains,
“Example, to our Nobles, and our Swains!”

Peganus, by their mutual Virtues won,
Strait ask'd the blooming Daughter for his Son.
With which Gualtherus gracefully comply'd;
“If so my Son might call your Daughter Bride.”

263

Ask You, how led the younger Race their Lives?
Just as They shou'd. Mere Husbands and mere Wives!
At Rule, the Women neither aim'd, nor broke
Their Vow; with equal Neck They bore the Yoke.
The Men accus'd Them not of Crimes unknown;
But pard'ning lighter Faults, excus'd their own.

Thus found that mournful Day a blisful End;
In Mirth and Revel the glad Night They spend.
Short seem'd the Hours of Converse and Delight,
Ev'n Day impertinently rose on Night.
The coldest Maids, and wildest Youths confess'd,
So to be Join'd, was, doubly to be Blest!
With Licence, All their various Censure pass'd,
Some the first Marriage prais'd, and Some the last.
The Pair, of Last or First, no Diff'rence make;
Still, one in Soul, tho' sunder'd by Mistake.
Each wrapt in Each, the Concord They improve;
Their Life, was one long Day, of Harmony and Love.

End of the Clerk of Oxford's Tale.

264

CONCLUSION TO THE CLERK of Oxford's TALE.

I mean not, by this Tale, I must declare,
What Husbands shou'd exact, or Wives shou'd bear.
That Sense wou'd much my gen'rous Master wrong;
For thus Petrarch has moraliz'd the Song.

Ye Fair! Without Offence, let Truth be told;
This Age is not so strong as was the Old.
The Proof You cou'd not suffer, if you wou'd;
Too much for Human Flesh, and Human Blood.

Yet Patience is a Good, of Use in Life,
To Youth, or Maid! to Husband, or to Wife!
A Virtue, to no Sex, or Age, confin'd!
Our Author wou'd extend it to Mankind.

265

For if such Trials bore, such Hazards ran,
(Mere Force of Love!) a Woman for a Man;
Shall I presume to question his Decree?
By Whom, I am! In Whom, I hope to Be!

Vice luring, in the Way of Virtue, lies.
God suffers This; but tempts not: tho' He tries.
Go Wrong, or Right, 'tis your own Action still;
He leaves You to your Choice, of Good, or Ill.

Then chuse the Good! The Ill submissly bear!
The Man of Virtue is above Despair.
Safe, on this Maxim, with Griselda rest!
That All, that fortunes, fortunes for the Best!

Chaucer, who close attended, from the Ground
His musing Eyes up-rais'd, and look'd around.
“Spare me (He cry'd) if not our Host oppose,
“One Word of Epilogue, before you close.
“So rare a Coin, are true Griseldas grown,
“Scarce Two are found, in any Country Town.
“And bold the Man, not wise, that dares ingage
“To warrant One, in London, in an Age.

266

“For put the Current Cash to full Assay,
“The Gold is mix'd with Brass; a bad Alay!
“And shou'd it stand the Touch, or cheat the Eye;
“Trust me, at last, 'twill rather break than ply.

“Hence, let our Pray'rs the Wife of Bath befriend,
“Whose Life, and Sect, ye Pow'rs of Love defend.
“Still may her Tongue the sov'reign Rule maintain;
“And never may her Hand relax the Rein.
“Free may she live, in undisturb'd Delight,
“All Day in Revel, and in Bliss all Night.
“Nor will the Modest Scholar think me bold;
“(Who with much Decency much Truth has told)
“Or will with me, as with mine Host dispense;
“(For no light Humor takes from solid Sense)
“If this Advice I add, to poise the Scale:
“A merry Moral suits a serious Tale.

“Dead, is, Griselda! Wifly Patience, Dead!
“Both bury'd in one Tomb! Both laid in Lead!
“For which, ye Husbands, lend attentive Ear;
“Hear me, for it concerns You much to hear.

267

“Let None, I warn You, None on Pain of Life,
“In Search of a Griselda, tempt his Wife.
“If half so far, her Patience You assail;
“You try Her, to your Loss, for She will fail.

“And You, ye Wives of Spirit, above Wrongs,
“Let no such mean Example nail your Tongues.
“Let, never, moral Poet of your Age,
“Fill, with your Duty, one Romantic Page.
“Be Pleasure, your Pursuit! Be Pow'r, your Aim!
“Make Nothing, of your Virtue, or your Fame!
“Of Truth and Honor, laugh at All he writes;
“Vain Talk for Children! Nurs'ry Cant of Sprites!

“Thus taught; no Merit in Compliance place!
“Meanness of Soul, think, Modesty of Face!
“It matters not, how tender, when alone,
“The Part'ner of thy Life. It shou'd be known!
“Known to thy Friends! nor yet shou'd That suffice.
“To Strangers be it known! Might I advise.
“And now imprint this Lesson on your Mind,
“The Benefit, by Practice, you will find.

268

“Trust not the Marriage Venture to his Hand;
“Freight He the Frigate, Thou the Sail command!
“Why, to his blustry Oath, such Def'rence paid?
“The Husband, why thus dreaded and obey'd?
“Arm'd, tho' He stood, compleat in plated Mail;
“The Arrows of thy Quiver shall not fail.
“Thy crabbed Eloquence supplies a Dart,
“That, ent'ring at his Ear, shall pierce his Heart.

“If You have Beauty, strait alarm his Love.
“Be ever on the Dress, and on the Rove.
“At Home wou'd He remain? Abroad then roam!
“Then, wou'd He roam Abroad? Remain at Home!
“Make it your Rule, to see, and to be seen;
“Abroad in Humor! And at Home in Spleen!
“Touch but his Jealousy, You must prevail!
“Yes! You will make him couch like any Quail!

“The Pow'r of Form, if Nature has deny'd;
“Tho' not his Love, You may alarm his Pride.
“Be open of your House, to sup, or dine,
“Bring Company; for All he has is Thine!

269

“To Fiddlers, Priests, Play'rs, Poets, give or lend!
“Money shall win Thee many an humble Friend!
“Thy Man, may fume, and fret, and rave, and rail!
“But touch his Honor, and You low'r his Sail.

“For You, the Masculine, to Labor bred,
“When menaces his Hand, correct his Head.
“If Nature gives the Sinew and the Frame,
“Same as the Pow'r, why not the Use the same?
“Whene'er your Wish, is wilfully withstood,
“Exert your Talent; it will do him Good.
“Stick to your Point! Again withstood, withstand!
“There is no Logic, like a heavy Hand.

“But for the Delicate, the Weak in Fight,
“The Rich, the Great, the Tender, the Polite!
“Be furious as a Tiger! or if That
“You cannot compass; vixin as a Cat!
“By Tongue reclaim this Rebel to your Will!
“Loud as the Clapper of a Drudging Mill!
“Fast as the Flier of a well-order'd Jack
“From Morn to Night keep one continu'd Clack!

270

“And went He twice as loud, and twice as fast,
“Speak what He will, like Echo, speak the last.”

The worthy Student, to Scholastic Pride
A Stranger, smil'd; but not a Word reply'd.
Not so mine Host the sly Conclusion bore,
Roundly he spoke, and horribly he swore.
‘Not much that Turn is suited to my Mind,
‘As quoth the Clerk, it leaves a Sting behind.
‘But I had rather than a Tun of Ale
‘Our Dame, at Home, had heard this courteous Tale.
‘Forsooth, to say, was her Domestic Life
‘Expos'd, no tame Griselda is our Wife.
‘But 'tis the daily Burden of my Song,
‘If Things will not go Right, let 'em go Wrong.

‘To Common Sense I owe these Golden Rules.
‘None will suspect I learn them in the Schools.
‘Patience I court; But Patience oft is frail.
‘And, if He curs'd not, Job himself cou'd rail.
‘A heavier Plague He never bore in Life;
‘A very Heap of Vices is our Wife.

271

‘Tho' Poor and Low; yet far from Fond or True.
‘And of her Tongue, She is an errant Shrew.
‘Still joys her That, which contradicts my Will;
‘But if it must be so, be it so still.
‘Yet, here my Mind more fully to disclose,
‘Reveal'd to Friends, and spoke beneath the Rose;
‘Wou'd some kind Priest but forge the Papal Bull,
‘Annull, shou'd be my Instant Song, Annull.

The End of the Third Volume.