'Tis grieving for thy loss that makes me ill; Did ever I in aught deny thy will?

In dress or play could any thee exceed?

And had'st thou not whatever thou might'st need?

To please thee, oft I made myself a slave; Such thou art now; but thee again I crave.

Then what dost think about thy honour, dear?-- Said she, with ire, I neither know nor fear; Is this a time to guard it, do you say?

What pain was shown by any one, I pray; When I was forc'd to wed a man like you, Old, impotent, and hateful to the view, While I was young and blooming as the morn, Deserving truly, something less forlorn, And seemingly intended to possess What Hymen best in store has got to bless; For I was thought by all the world around, Most worthy ev'ry bliss in wedlock found.

YET things took quite another turn with me In tune my husband never proved to be, Except a feast or two throughout the year; From Pagamin I met a diff'rent cheer; Another lesson presently he taught; The life's sweet pleasures more the pirate brought, In two short days, than e'er I had from you In those four years that only you I knew.

PRAY leave me husband:--let me have my will Insist not on my living with you still; No calendars with Pagamin are seen-- Far better treated with the man I've been.

My other friends and you much worse deserved: The spouse, for taking me when quite unnerved, And they, for giving preference base to gold, To those pure joys--far better thought than told.

But Pagamin in ev'ry way can please; And though no code he owns, yet all is ease; Himself will tell you what has pa.s.sed this morn, His actions would a sov'reign prince adorn.

Such information may excite surprise, But now the truth, 'twere useless to disguise, Nothing will gain belief, we've no one near To witness our discourse:--adieu, my dear, To all your festivals--I'm flesh and blood:-- Gems, dresses, ornaments, do little good; You know full well, betwixt the head and heel, Though little's said, yet much we often feel.

On this she stopt, and Richard dropt his chin, Rejoiced to 'scape from such unwelcome din.

BARTHOLOMEA, pleased with what had pa.s.sed; No disposition showed to hold him fast; The downcast husband felt such poignant grief, With ills where age can scarcely hope relief, That soon he left this busy stage of life, And Pagamin the widow took to wife.

The deed was just, for neither of the two E'er felt what oft in Richard rose to view; From feeling proof arose their mutual choice; And 'tween them ne'er was heard the jarring voice.

BEHOLD a lesson for the aged man; Who thinks, when old, to act as he began; But, if the sage a yielding dotard seems, His work is done by those the wife esteems; Complaints are never heard; no thrilling fears; And ev'ry one around at ease appears.

THE AVARICIOUS WIFE AND TRICKING GALLANT

WHO knows the world will never feel surprise, When men are duped by artful women's eyes; Though death his weapon freely will unfold; Love's pranks, we find, are ever ruled by gold.

To vain coquettes I doubtless here allude; But spite of arts with which they're oft endued; I hope to show (our honour to maintain,) We can, among a hundred of the train, Catch one at least, and play some cunning trick:-- For instance, take blithe Gulphar's wily nick, Who gained (old soldier-like) his ardent aim, And gratis got an avaricious dame.

LOOK well at this, ye heroes of the sword, Howe'er with wily freaks your heads be stored, Beyond a doubt, at court I now could find, A host of lovers of the Gulphar kind.

To Gasperin's so often went our wight, The wife at length became his sole delight, Whose youth and beauty were by all confessed; But, 'midst these charms, such av'rice she possessed, The warmest love was checked--a thing not rare, In modern times at least, among the FAIR.

'Tis true, as I've already said, with such Sighs naught avail, and promises not much; Without a purse, who wishes should express, Would vainly hope to gain a soft caress.

The G.o.d of love no other charm employs, Then cards, and dress, and pleasure's cheering joys; From whose gay shops more cuckolds we behold, Than heroes sallied from Troy's horse of old.

BUT to our lady's humour let's adhere; Sighs pa.s.sed for naught: they entered not her ear; 'Twas speaking only would the charmer please, The reader, without doubt, my meaning sees; Gay Gulphar plainly spoke, and named a sum A hundred pounds, she listened:--was o'ercome.

OUR wight the cash by Gasperin was lent; And then the husband to the country went, Without suspecting that his loving mate, Designed with horns to ornament his pate.

THE money artful Gulphar gave the dame, While friends were round who could observe the same; Here, said the spark, a hundred pounds receive, 'Tis for your spouse:--the cash with you I leave.

The lady fancied what the swain had said, Was policy, and to concealment led.

NEXT morn our belle regaled the arch gallant, Fulfilled his promise:--and his eager want.

Day after day he followed up the game; For cash he took, and int'rest on the same; Good payers get, we always may conclude, Full measure served, whatever is pursued.

WHEN Gasperin returned, our crafty wight, Before the wife addressed her spouse at sight; Said he the cash I've to your lady paid, Not having (as I feared) required its aid; To save mistakes, pray cross it in your book; The lady, thunderstruck, with terror shook; Allowed the payment; 'twas a case too clear; In truth for character she 'gan to fear.

But most howe'er she grudged the surplus joy, Bestowed on such a vile, deceitful boy.

THE loss was doubtless great in ev'ry view Around the town the wicked Gulphar flew; In all the streets, at every house to tell, How nicely he had trick'd the greedy belle.

To blame him useless 'twere you must allow; The French such frolicks readily avow.

THE JEALOUS HUSBAND

A CERTAIN husband who, from jealous fear, With one eye slept while t'other watched his dear, Deprived his wife of every social joy, (Friends oft the jealous character annoy,) And made a fine collection in a book, Of tricks with which the s.e.x their wishes hook.

Strange fool! as if their wiles, to speak the truth, Were not a hydra, both in age and youth.

HIS wife howe'er engaged his constant cares; He counted e'en the number of her hairs; And kept a hag who followed every hour, Where'er she went, each motion to devour; Duenna like, true semblance of a shade, That never quits, yet moves as if afraid.

THIS arch collection, like a prayer-book bound; Was in the blockhead's pocket always found, The form religious of the work, he thought, Would prove a charm 'gainst vice whenever sought!

ONE holy day, it happened that our dame, As from the neighb'ring church she homeward came; And pa.s.sed a house, some wight, concealed from view; A basket full of filth upon her threw.

WITH anxious care apologies were made; The lady, frightened by the frolick played, Quite unsuspicious to the mansion went; Her aged friend for other clothes she sent, Who hurried home, and ent'ring out of breath; Informed old hunks--what pained him more than death

ZOUNDS! cried the latter, vainly I may look To find a case like this within my book; A dupe I'm made, and nothing can be worse:-- h.e.l.l seize the work--'tis thoroughly a curse!

NOT wrong he proved, for, truly to confess; This throwing dirt upon the lady's dress Was done to get the hag, with Argus' eyes Removed a certain distance from the prize.

The gay gallant, who watched the lucky hour, Felt doubly blessed to have her in his power.

HOW vain our schemes to guard the wily s.e.x!

Oft plots we find, that ev'ry sense perplex.

Go, jealous husbands, books of cases burn; Caresses lavish, and you'll find return.

THE GASCON PUNISHED

A GASCON (being heard one day to swear, That he'd possess'd a certain lovely fair,) Was played a wily trick, and nicely served; 'Twas clear, from truth he shamefully had swerved: But those who scandal propagate below, Are prophets thought, and ev'ry action know; While good, if spoken, scarcely is believed, And must be viewed, or not for truth received.

THE dame, indeed, the Gascon only jeered, And e'er denied herself when he appeared; But when she met the wight, who sought to shine; And called her angel, beauteous and divine, She fled and hastened to a female friend, Where she could laugh, and at her ease unbend.

NEAR Phillis, (our fair fugitive) there dwelled One Eurilas, his nearest neighbour held; His wife was Cloris; 'twas with her our dove Took shelter from the Gascon's forward love, Whose name was Dorilas; and Damon young, (The Gascon's friend) on whom gay Cloris hung.

SWEET Phillis, by her manner, you might see, From sly amours and dark intrigues was free; The value to possess her no one knew, Though all admired the lovely belle at view.

Just twenty years she counted at the time, And now a widow was, though in her prime, (Her spouse, an aged dotard, worth a plum:-- Of those whose loss to mourn no tears e'er come.)

OUR seraph fair, such loveliness possessed, In num'rous ways a Gascon could have blessed; Above, below, appeared angelic charms; 'Twas Paradise, 'twas Heav'n, within her arms!

THE Gascon was--a Gascon;--would you more?

Who knows a Gascon knows at least a score.