Chapter 13

O BEAUTEOUS bird, exclaimed th' enraptured boy, Sing, sound thy voice, 'twill fill my soul with joy; To thee I'd anxiously be better known; O father, let me have one for my own! A thousand times I fondly ask the boon; Let's take it to the woods: 'tis not too soon; Young as it is, I'll feed it morn and night, And always make it my supreme delight.

RICHARD MINUTOLO

IN ev'ry age, at Naples, we are told, Intrigue and gallantry reign uncontrolled; With beauteous objects in abundance blessed. No country round so many has possessed; Such fascinating charms the FAIR disclose, That irresistibly soft passion flows.

'MONG these a belle, enchanting to behold, Was loved by one, of birth and store of gold; Minutolo (and Richard) was his name, In Cupid's train a youth of brilliant fame: 'Tween Rome and Paris none was more gallant, And num'rous hearts were for him known to pant.

CATELLA (thus was called our lady fair,) So long, howe'er, resisted Richard's snare, That prayers, and vows, and promises were vain; A favour Minutolo could not gain. At length, our hero weary, coldness showed, And dropt attendance, since no kindness flowed; Pretended to be cured:--another sought, And feigned her charms his tender heart had caught: Catella laughed, but jealousy was nigh; 'Twas for her friend that now He heaved the sigh.

THESE dames together met, and Richard too, The gay gallant a glowing picture drew, Of certain husbands, lovers, prudes, and wives; Who led in secret most lascivious lives. Though none he named, Catella was amazed; His hints suspicions of her husband raised; And such her agitation and affright, That, anxious to procure more certain light, In haste she took Minutolo aside, And begged the names he would not from her hide, With all particulars, from first to last:-- Her ardent wish to know whate'er had passed.

SO long your reign, said Richard, o'er my mind, Deny I could not, howsoe'er inclined; With Mrs. Simon often is your spouse; Her character no doubt your spleen will rouse; I've no design, observe to give offence, But, when I see your int'rest in suspense, I cannot silent keep; though, were I still A slave, devoted wholly to your will, As late I moved, I would not drop a word Mistrust of lovers may not be absurd; Besides, you'd fancy other motives led To tell you of your husband what was said; But heav'n be praised, of you I nothing want; My object's plain--no more the fond gallant.

I'VE lately certain information had, Your spouse (I scarcely thought the man so bad,) Has with the lady an appointment made; At Jack's nice bagnio he will meet the jade.

NOW clearly Jack's not rich, and there's no doubt; A hundred ducats give, and--ALL will out; Let him but have a handsome sum in view, And any thing you wish, be sure he'll do; You then can manage ev'ry way so well, That, at the place assigned to meet his belle, You'll take this truant husband by surprise;-- Permit me in this nice affair to advise.

THE lady has agreed, you will remark, That in a room where ev'ry part is dark, (Perhaps to 'scape the keeper's prying sight, Or shame directs exclusion of the light,) She will receive your gay inconstant spouse; Now, take her place; the case deceit allows; Make Jack your friend; nor haggle at the price; A hundred ducats give, is my advice; He'll place you in the room where darkness reigns; Think not too fast, nor suffer heavy chains; Do what you wish, and utter not a word; To speak, assuredly would be absurd; 'Twould spoil the whole; destroy the project quite; Attend, and see if all things be not right.

THE project pleased Catella to the soul; Her wrath, no longer able to controul, She Richard stopt; enough, enough, she cried; I fully understand:--leave me to guide; I'll play the fellow and his wanton lass A pretty trick-shall all their art surpass, Unless the string gives way and spoils my scheme; What, take me for a nincompoop?--they dream.

THIS said, she sought excuse to get away, And went in quest of Jack without delay. The keeper, howsoe'er, a hint had got; Minutolo had schooled him for the plot; Oft cash does wonders, and, if such the case In France or Britain, when conferred a grace, The bribe is taken, and the truth abused, In Italy it will not be refused; There this sole quiver Cupid useful finds,--

A purse well stored--all binds, gunlocks, or blinds: Jack took the pelf from Richard and the dame; Had Satan offered--'twould have been the same. In short, Minutolo had full success, All came about, and marked the spark's address.

THE lady had at first some warm dispute To many questions Jack was even mute; But when he saw the golden charms unmasked, Far more he promised than Catella asked.

THE time of rendezvous arrived, our spark To Jack's repaired, and found the room quite dark; So well arranged, no crevice could he find, Through which the light might hurt what he designed.

NOT long he waited, ere our jealous dame, Who longed to find her faithless husband, came, Most thoroughly prepared his ears to greet. Jack brought the couple presently to meet. The lady found, howe'er, not what she sought: No guilty spouse, nor Mrs. Simon caught; But wily Richard, who, without alarms, In silence took Catella in his arms. What further passed between the easy pair, Think what you will, I mean not to declare; The lover certainly received delight The lady showed no terror nor affright; On neither side a syllable was dropt With care Minutolo his laughter stopt; Though difficult, our spark succeeded well; No words of mine can Richard's pleasure tell. His fav'rite beauteous belle he now possessed, And triumphed where so oft he'd been repressed, Yet fondly hoped her pardon he should get, Since they together had so gaily met.

AT length, the fair could no longer contain: Vile wretch, she cried, I've borne too much 'tis plain; I'm not the fav'rite whom thou had'st in view: To tear thy eyes out justly were thy due, 'Tis this, indeed, that makes thee silent keep, Each morn feign sickness, and pretend to sleep, Thyself reserving doubtless for amours:-- Speak, villain! say, of charms have I less stores? Or what has Mrs. Simon more than I? A wanton wench, in tricks so wondrous sly! Where my love less? though truly now I hate; Would that I'd seen thee hung, thou wretch ingrate!

MINUTOLO, while thus Catella spoke, Caressed her much, but silence never broke; A kiss e'en tried to gain, without success; She struggled, and refused to acquiesce; Begone! said she, nor treat me like a child; Stand off!--away!--thy taction is defiled; My tears express an injured woman's grief; No more thy wife I'll be, but seek relief; Return my fortune--go:--thy mistress seek; To be so constant:--How was I so weak? It surely would be nothing more than right, Were Richard I to see this very night, Who adoration constantly has paid:-- You much deserve to be a cuckold made; I'm half inclined, I vow, to do the worst. At this our arch gallant with laughter burst. What impudence!--You mock me too? she cried Let's see, with blushes if his face be dyed? When from his arms she sprang, a window sought; The shutters ope'd, and then a view she caught; Minutolo, her lover! * * * what surprise! Pale, faint, she instant grew, and closed her eyes: Who would have thought, said she, thou wert so base? I'm lost! * * * for ever sunk in dire disgrace!

WHO'LL, know it? Richard earnestly replied; In Jack's concealment we may both confide; Excuse the trick I've played and ne'er repine; Address, force, treachery, in love combine; All are permitted when intrigue 's the word; To hold the contrary were quite absurd. Till stratagem was used I naught could gain, But looks and darts from eyes, for all my pain. I've paid myself;--Would you have done it?--No; 'Tis all as might be wished;--come, smiles bestow; I'm satisfied, the fault was not with you. In this, to make you wretched, naught I view; Why sigh and groan?--What numbers could I name, Who would be happy to be served the same.

HIS reas'ning yet could not the belle appease; She wept, and sought by tears her mind to ease; Affliction highly added to her charms; Minutolo still gave her new alarms; He took her hand, which she at once withdrew: Away, she cried; no longer me pursue; Be satisfied; you surely don't desire That I assistance from the house require, Or rouse the neighbours with my plaintive cries I'll ev'ry thing declare without disguise.

SUCH folly don't commit, replied the spark; Your wisest plan is nothing to remark: The world at present is become so vile, If you the truth divulge, they'll only smile; Not one a word of treachery would believe, But think you came--and money to receive: Suppose, besides, it reached your husband's ears; Th' effect has reason to excite your fears; 'Twould give displeasure and occasion strife: Would you in duels wish to risk his life? Whatever makes you with him disagree, At all events, I'm full as bad as he.

THESE reasons with Catella greatly weighed Since things, continued he, are thus displayed; And cannot be repaired, console your mind; A perfect being never was designed. If, howsoe'er you will * * * but say no more; Such thoughts for ever banish, I implore. 'Mid all my perseverance, zeal, and art, I nothing got but frowns that pierced the heart: 'Twill now on you depend if pleasure prove This day imperfect, ere from hence we move. What more remains to do? the worst is past; 'Tis step the first that costs, however classed.

So well Minutolo preferred his suit, The lady with him more would not dispute, With downcast eyes she listened to his prayer, And looked disposed to tranquilize his care; From easy freedom soon he 'gan to soar; A smile received:--a kiss bestowed and more: At length, the lady passed resistance by, And all conceded, e'en without a sigh.

OUR hero felt a thousand times more blessed Than when he first the beauteous fair caressed; For when a flame reciprocal is raised, The bliss redoubles, and by all is praised.

THUS Richard pleasantly employed his time, Contented lived, concentring joys sublime. A sample, now, we have given of his pow'rs, And who would wish for more delightful hours? O grant, kind heav'n! that I the like may meet, And ever prove so wary and discreet.

THE MONKS OF CATALONIA

TO you, my friends, allow me to detail, The feats of monks in Catalonia's vale, Where oft the holy fathers pow'rs displayed, And showed such charity to wife and maid, That o'er their minds sweet fascination reigned, And made them think, they Paradise had gained.

SUCH characters oft preciously advise, And youthful easy female minds surprise, The beauteous FAIR encircle with their net, And, of the feeling heart, possession get: Work in the holy vineyard, you may guess, And, as our tale will show, with full success.

IN times of old, when learning 'mong the FAIR, Enough to read the testament, was rare, (Times howsoe'er thought difficult to quote,) A swarm of monks of gormandizing note, Arrived and fixed themselves within a town, For young and beauteous belles of great renown, While, of gallants, there seemed but very few, Though num'rous aged husbands you might view.

A NOBLE chapel soon the fathers raised, To which the females ran and highly praised, Surveyed it o'er and confidently thought, 'Twas there, of course, salvation should be sought. And when their faith had thoroughly been proved, To gain their point the monks the veil removed.-- Good father Andrew scorned to use finesse, And in discourse the sex would thus address.

IF any thing prevent your sov'reign bliss, And Paradise incautiously you miss, Most certainly the evil will arise, From keeping for your husbands large supplies, Of what a surplus you have clearly got, And more than requisite to them allot, Without bestowing on your trusty friends, The saving that to no one blessings lends.

PERHAPS you'll tell me, marriage boons we shun; 'Tis true, and Heav'n be praised enough is done, Without those duties to require our share You know from direful sin we guard the FAIR. Ingratitude 's declared the height of crimes, And God pronounced it such in early times; For this eternally was Satan curst; Howe'er you err, be careful of the worst. Return to Heav'n your thanks for bounteous care, And then to us a tithe of surplus spare, Which costs you nothing worth a moment's thought; And marks the zeal with which our faith is taught, A claim legitimate our order opes, Bestowed, for holy offices, by popes, No charitable gift, but lawful right: Priests well supported are a glorious sight. Four times a year, exactly to a day, Each wife this tithe should personally pay Our holy saint requires that you submit: 'Tis founded on decrees of holy writ. All Nature carefully the law reveres, That gratitude and fealty endears.

NOW marriage works we rank as an estate, And tithe is due for that at any rate. We'll take it patiently, whate'er the toil: Nor be o'er nice about the justful spoil. Our order have not, you must surely know, By many comforts, what we wish below.

'TIS right, however, that I now suggest, Whatever passes must not be expressed; But naught to husbands, parents, friends, reveal; From ev'ry one the mysterious conceal. Three words th' apostle taught: be these your care; FAITH, CHARITY, and PRUDENCE learn to share.

THE holy father, by his fine discourse, Delivered with the most impressive force, Gave wonderous satisfaction and surprise, And passed with all for Solomon the wise; Few slept while Andrew preached, and ev'ry wife, His precepts guarded as she would her life; And these not solely treasured in the mind, But showed to practise them the heart inclined, Each hastened tithe to bring without delay, And quarrelled who should be the first to pay; Loud murmurs rang, and many city dames, Were forced to keep till morn the friar's claims, And HOLY CHURCH, not knowing what to do, Such numbers seemed to be in paying cue, At length was forced, without restraint, to say, The Lord commands that, till a future day, You give us time to breathe:--so large the lot, To serve for present we enough have got; Too much the whole at once, but by degrees, Your tithe we'll take and all contrive to please. With us arrange the hour you would be here, And some to-day:--to-morrow more we'll cheer; The whole in order, and you'll clearly see, That SOFTLY with FAIRLY best agree.

THE sex inclined to follow this advice; About receipts however they were not nice; The entertainment greatly was admired, And pure devotion all their bosoms fired, A glass of cordial some apart received; Good cheer was given, may be well believed; Ten youthful dames brisk friar Fripart took, Gay, airy, and engaging ev'ry look, Who paid with pleasure all the monk could wish; Some had fifteen:--some twelve to taste their dish; Good friar Rock had twenty for his share, And gave such satisfaction to the FAIR, That some, to show they never grudged the price, And proved their punctuality,--paid twice.

So much indeed, that satiated with ways, That six long months engaged their nights and days: They gladly credit would have given now, But found the ladies would not this allow, Believing it most positively wrong, To keep whate'er might to the church belong. No tithe arrears were any where around, So zealous were the dames in duty found, They often in advance paid holy dues, How pure the monks!--how just the ladies views! The friars used despatch alone with those, That for their fascinating charms they chose, And sent the sempiternals to bestow, The tribute they had brought on those below, For in the refuse tithes that were their lot, The laicks oft pleasant pickings got. In short 'twas difficult to say, What charity was shown from day to day.

IT happened that one night a married dame, Desirous to convey the monks their claim, And walking with her spouse just by the spot, Where dwelled the arch contrivers of the plot, Good Heavens! said she, I well remember now, I've business with a friar here, I vow; 'Twill presently be done if you'll but wait; Religious duties we must ne'er abate. What duties? cried the husband with surprise; You're surely mad:--'tis midnight I surmise; Confess yourself to-morrow if required; The holy fathers are to bed retired. That makes no difference, the lady cried.-- I think it does, the husband straight replied, And thither I'll not let you go to-night:-- What heinous sins so terribly affright, That in such haste the mind you wish to ease? To-morrow morn repair whene'er you please:

YOU do me wrong, rejoined the charming fair; I neither want confession nor a prayer, But anxiously desire what is due to pay; For if incautiously I should delay, Long time 'would be ere I the monk should see, With other matters he'll so busy be. But what can you the holy fathers owe? To which the lady said:--what don't you know? A tithe, my dear, the friars always claim.-- What tithe? cried he; it surely has a name. Not know! astonishingly, replied the wife.-- To which the husband answered:--On my life, That women friars pay is very strange; Will you particulars with me arrange? How cunningly, said she, you seem to act; Why clearly you're acquainted with the fact? 'Tis Hymeneal works:--What works? cried he-- Lord! said the dame, assuredly you see, Why I had paid an hour ago or more And you've prevented me when at the door; I'm sure, of those who owe, I'm not the worst, For I, in paying, always was the first.

THE husband quite astonished now appeared; At once a hundred diff'rent ills he feared; But questioning his wife howe'er, he found, That many other dames who lived around, Like her; in paying tithes, the monks obeyed, Which consolation to his breast conveyed. Poor innocent! she nothing wished to hide; Said she, not one but tithe they make provide; Good friar Aubrey takes your sister's dues; To father Fabry Mrs. B's accrues; The mayoress friar William likes to greet, A monk more handsome scarcely you will meet; And I to friar Gerard always go; I wished this night to pay him all I owe.

ALAS! when tongues unbridled drop disguise, What direful ills, what discords oft arise! The cunning husband having thus obtained, Particulars of what the fathers gained, At first designed in secret to disclose, Those scenes of fraud and matrimonial woes: The mayor and citizens should know, he thought; What dues were paid: what tithes the friars sought; But since 'twas rather difficult to place, Full credence, at the first, in such a case, He judged it best to make the fellow speak, To whom his wife had shown herself so weak.

FOR father Gerard in the morn he sent, Who, unsuspecting, to the husband went, When, in the presence of the injured wife, He drew his sword and swore he'd take his life, Unless the mystery he would disclose, Which he reluctantly through terror chose. Then having bound the friar hand and foot, And in another room his lady put, He sallied forth his hapless lot to tell, And to the mayor exposed the wily spell; The corporation next; then up and down, The secret he divulged throughout the town.

A CRY for vengeance presently was heard; The whole at once to slaughter, some preferred While others would the place with fire surround, And burn the house with those within it found. Some wished to drown them, bound within their dress; With various other projects you may guess; But all agreed that death should be their lot, And those for burning had most voices got.