DIVERTING in extreme there is a play, Which oft resumes its fascinating sway; Delights the s.e.x, or ugly, fair, or sour; By night or day:--'tis sweet at any hour.

The frolick, ev'ry where is known to fame; Conjecture if you can, and tells its name.

THIS play's chief charm to husbands is unknown; 'Tis with the lover it excels alone; No lookers-on, as umpires, are required; No quarrels rise, though each appears inspired; All seem delighted with the pleasing game:-- Conjecture if you can, and tell its name.

BE this as 'twill, and called whate'er it may; No longer trifling with it I shall stay, But now disclose a method to transmit (As oft we find) to ninnies sense and wit.

Till Alice got instruction in this school, She was regarded as a silly fool, Her exercise appeared to spin and sew:-- Not hers indeed, the hands alone would go; For sense or wit had in it no concern; Whate'er the foolish girl had got to learn, No part therein could ever take the mind; Her doll, for thought, was just as well designed.

The mother would, a hundred times a day, Abuse the stupid maid, and to her say Go wretched lump and try some wit to gain.

THE girl, quite overcome with shame and pain; Her neighbours asked to point her out the spot, Where useful wit by purchase might be got.

The simple question laughter raised around; At length they told her, that it might be found With father Bonadventure, who'd a stock, Which he at times disposed of to his flock.

AWAY in haste she to the cloister went, To see the friar she was quite intent, Though trembling lest she might disturb his ease; And one of his high character displease.

The girl exclaimed, as on she moved,--Will he Such presents willingly bestow on me, Whose age, as yet, has scarcely reached fifteen?

With such can I be worthy to be seen?

Her innocence much added to her charms, The gentle wily G.o.d of soft alarms Had not a youthful maiden in his book, That carried more temptation in her look.

MOST rev'rend sir, said she, by friends I'm told, That in this convent wit is often sold, Will you allow me some on trust to take?

My treasure won't afford that much I stake; I can return if more I should require; Howe'er, you'll take this pledge I much desire; On which she tried to give the monk a ring, That to her finger firmly seemed to cling.

BUT when the friar saw the girl's design, He cried, good maid, the pledge we will decline, And what is wished, provide for you the same; 'Tis merchandize, and whatsoe'er its fame, To some 'tis freely giv'n:--to others taught If not too dear, oft better when 'tis bought.

Come in and boldly follow where I lead; None round can see: you've nothing here to heed; They're all at prayers; the porter's at my will; The very walls, of prudence have their fill.

SHE entered as the holy monk desired, And they together to his cell retired.

The friar on the bed this maiden threw; A kiss would take:--she from him rather drew; And said.--To give one wit is this the way?

Yes, answered he, and round her 'gan to play: Upon her bosom then he put his hand What now, said she, am I to understand?

Is this the way?--Said he, 'tis so decreed; Then patiently she let the monk proceed, Who followed up, from point to point, his aim; And wit, by easy steps, advancing came, Till its progression with her was complete; Then Alice laughed, success appeared so sweet.

A SECOND dose the friar soon bestowed, And e'en a third, so fast his bounty flowed.

Well, said the monk, pray how d'ye find the play?

The girl replied: wit will not long delay; 'Twill soon arrive; but then I fear its flight: I'm half afraid 'twill leave me ere 'tis night.

We'll see, rejoined the priest, that naught you lose; But other secrets oftentimes we use.

Seek not those the smiling girl replied With this most perfectly I'm satisfied; Then be it so, said he, we'll recommence, Nor longer keep the business in suspense, But to the utmost length at once advance; For this fair Alice showed much complaisance: The secret by the friar was renewed; Much pleasure in it Bonadventure viewed; The belle a courtesy dropt, and then retired, Reflecting on the wit she had acquired; Reflecting, do you say?--To think inclined?

Yes, even more:--she sought excuse to find, Not doubting that she should be forced to say, Some cause for keeping her so long away.

TWO days had pa.s.sed, when came a youthful friend; Fair Nancy with her often would unbend; Howe'er, so very thoughtful Alice seemed, That Nancy (who was penetrating deemed) Was well convinced whatever Alice sought, So very absent she was not for naught.

In questioning she managed with such art, That soon she learned--what Alice could impart To listen she was thoroughly disposed, While t'other ev'ry circ.u.mstance disclosed, From first to last, each point and mystick hit, And e'en the largeness of the friar's wit, The repet.i.tions, and the wondrous skill With which he managed ev'ry thing at will.

BUT now, cried Alice, favour me I pray, And tell at once, without reserve, the way That you obtained such wit as you possess, And all particulars to me confess.

IF I, said Nancy, must avow the truth, Your brother Alan was the bounteous youth, Who me obliged therewith, and freely taught, What from the holy friar you'd have bought.

My brother Alan!--Alan! Alice cried; He ne'er with any was himself supplied; I'm all surprise; he's thought a heavy clot, How could he give what he had never got?

FOOL! said the other, little thou can'st know; For once, to me some information owe; In such a case much skill is not required, And Alan freely gave what I desired.

If me thou disbeliev'st, thy mother ask; She thoroughly can undertake the task.

ON such a point we readily should say, Long live the fools who wit so well display!

THE SICK ABBESS

EXAMPLE often proves of sov'reign use; At other times it cherishes abuse; 'Tis not my purpose, howsoe'er, to tell Which of the two I fancy to excel.

Some will conceive the Abbess acted right, While others think her conduct very light Be that as 'twill, her actions right or wrong, I'll freely give a license to my tongue, Or pen, at all events, and clearly show, By what some nuns were led to undergo, That flocks are equally of flesh and blood, And, if one pa.s.ses, hundreds stem the flood, To follow up the course the first has run, And imitate what t'other has begun.

When Agnes pa.s.sed, another sister came, And ev'ry nun desired to do the same; At length the guardian of the flock appeared, And likewise pa.s.sed, though much at first she feared.

The tale is this, we purpose to relate; And full particulars we now will state.

AN Abbess once a certain illness had, Chlorosis named, which oft proves very bad, Destroys the rose that decorates the cheek, And renders females languid, pale, and weak.

Our lady's face was like a saint's in Lent: Quite wan, though otherwise it marked content.

The faculty, consulted on her case, And who the dire disorder's source would trace, At length p.r.o.nounced slow fever must succeed, And death inevitably be decreed, Unless;--but this unless is very strange Unless indeed she some way could arrange; To gratify her wish, which seemed to vex, And converse be allowed with t'other s.e.x: Hippocrates, howe'er, more plainly speaks, No circ.u.mlocutory phrase he seeks.

O JESUS! quite abashed the Abbess cried; What is it?--fy!--a man would you provide?

Yes, they rejoined, 'tis clearly what you want, And you will die without a brisk gallant; One truly able will alone suffice; And, if not such, take two we would advise.

This still was worse, though, if we rightly guess, 'Twas by her wished, durst she the truth confess.

But how the sisterhood would see her take Such remedies and no objection make?

Shame often causes injury and pain; And ills concealed bring others in their train.

SAID sister Agnes, Madam, take their word; A remedy like this would be absurd, If, like old death, it had a haggard look, And you designed to get by hook or crook.

A hundred secrets you retain at ease; Can one so greatly shock and you displease?-- You talk at random, Agnes, she replied; Now, would you for the remedy decide, Upon your word, if you were in my place?-- Yes, madam, said the nun, and think it grace; Still more I'd do, if necessary thought; Your health, by me, would ev'ry way be sought, And, if required by you to suffer this, Not one around would less appear remiss; Sincere affection for you I have shown, And my regard I'll ever proudly own.

A THOUSAND thanks the Abbess gave her friend; The doctors said:--no use for them to send; Throughout the convent sad distress appeared; When Agnes, who to sage advice adhered, And was not thought the weakest head around, A kinder soul perhaps could not be found, Said to the sisterhood,--What now retains Our worthy Abbess, and her will enchains, Is nothing but the shame of pow'rs divine, Or else, to what's prescribed she would resign.

Through charity will no one take the lead, And, by example, get her to proceed?

THE counsel was by ev'ry one approved, And commendation through the circle moved.

IN this design not one, nor grave, nor old, Nor young, nor prioress, at all seemed cold; Notes flew around, and friends of worth and taste, The black, the fair, the brown, appeared in haste; The number was not small, our records say, Not (what might be) appearance of delay, But all most anxious seemed the road to show, And what the Abbess feared, at once to know; None more sincerely 'mong the nuns desired, That shame should not prevent what was required.

Nor that the Abbess should, within her soul, Retain what might injuriously control.

NO sooner one among the flock had made The step, of which the Abbess was afraid, But other sisters followed in the train:-- Not one behind consented to remain; Each forward pressed, in dread to be the last; At length, from prejudice the Abbess pa.s.sed; To such examples she at last gave way, And, to a youth, no longer offered nay.

THE operation o'er, her lily face Resumed the rose, and ev'ry other grace.

O remedy divine, prescription blessed!

Thy friendly aid to numbers stands confessed; The friends of thousands, friend of nature too; The friend of all, except where honour 's due.

This point of honour is another ill, In which the faculty confess no skill.

WHAT ills in life! what mis'ries dire around, While remedies so easy may be found!

THE TRUCKERS