Chapter 18

YE dames of Britain, Germany, or France, Would you have done as much, through complaisance? You would not, I'm convinced: the thing is clear; But doubtless this, at Rome, must fine appear.

POOR Constance softly to the bed approached, No longer now supposing she encroached, And trusting that, no stratagem again Would be contrived to give her bosom pain. Camillus said: my sentiments I'll speak; Dissimulation I will never seek; She who can proffer what should be denied, Shall never be admitted by my side; But if the place your approbation meet, I won't refuse your lying at my feet.

FAIR Constance such reproof could not withstand, 'Twas well the poinard was not in her hand; Her bosom so severely felt the smart, She would have plunged the dagger through her heart: But Hope, sweet Hope! still fluttered to her view; And young Camillus pretty well she knew; Howe'er with such severity he spoke, That e'en the mildest saint it would provoke; Yet, in a swain so easy, gentle, kind, 'Twas strange so little lenity to find.

SHE placed herself, as order'd, cross the bed, And at his feet at length reclined her head; A kiss on them she ventured to impress, But not too roughly, lest she should transgress: We may conjecture if he were at ease; What victory! to see her stoop to please; A beauty so renowned for charms and pride, 'Twould take a week, to note each trait described; No other fault than paleness he could trace, Which gave her (causes known) still higher grace.

CAMILLUS stretched his legs, and on her breast Familiarly allowed his feet to rest; A cushion made of what so fair appeared, That envy might from ivory be feared; Then seemed as if to Morpheus he inclined, And on the pillow sullenly resigned. At last the sighs with which her bosom heaved, Gave vent to floods of tears that much relieved; This was the end:--Camillus silence broke, And to tell the belle with pleasing accents spoke I'm satisfied, said he, your love is pure; Come hither charming girl and be secure. She t'wards him moved; Camillus near her slid; Could you, cried he, believe that what I did, Was seriously the dictates of my soul, To act the brute and ev'ry way control? No, no, sweet fair, you know me not 'tis plain: I truly wish your fondest love to gain; Your heart I've probed, 'tis all that I desire; Mid joys I swim; my bosom feels the fire. Your rigour now in turn you may display; It is but fair: be bountiful I pray; Myself from hence your lover I declare; No woman merits more my bed to share, Whatever rank, or beauty, sense or life, You equally deserve to be my wife; Your husband I'll become; forget the past; Unpleasant recollections should not last. Yet there's one thing which much I wish to speak The marriage must be secret that we seek; There's no occasion reasons to disclose; What I have said I trust will you dispose, To act as I desire: you'll find it best:-- A wedding 's like amours while unconfessed; One THEN both husband and gallant appears, And ev'ry wily act the bosom cheers. Till we, continued he, a priest can find, Are you, to trust my promises inclined? You safely may; he'll to his word adhere: His heart is honest, and his tongue sincere.

TO this fair Constance answered not a word, Which showed, with him, her sentiments concurred. The spark, no novice in the dumb assent, Received her silence fully as 'twas meant; The rest involved in myst'ry deep remains; Thus Constance was requitted for her pains.

YE Cyprian nymphs to profit turn my tale; The god of LOVE, within his vot'ries pale, Has many, if their sentiments were known, That I'd prefer for Hymen's joys alone. My wife, not always to the spindle true, Will many things in life, not seem to view; By Constance and her conduct you may see How, with this theory, her acts agree; She proved the truth of what I here advance, And reaped the fruits produced by complaisance, A horde of nuns I know who, ev'ry night, Would such adventures wage with fond delight.

PERHAPS it will not be with ease believed, That Constance from Camillus now received, A proof of LOVE'S enchanting balmy sweet, A proof perhaps you'll think her used to meet; But ne'er till then she tasted pleasures pure; Her former life no blisses could secure. You ask the cause, and signs of doubt betray: Who TRULY loves, the same will ever say.

NICAISE

TO serve the shop as 'prentice was the lot; Of one who had the name of Nicaise got; A lad quite ignorant beyond his trade, And what arithmetick might lend him aid; A perfect novice in the wily art, That in amours is used to win the heart. Good tradesmen formerly were late to learn The tricks that soon in friars we discern; They ne'er were known those lessons to begin, Till more than down appeared upon the chin. But now-a-days, in practice, 'tis confessed, These shopkeepers are knowing as the best.

OUR lad of ancient date was less advanced; At scenes of love his eyes had never glanced; Be that as 'twill, he now was in the way, And naught but want of wit produced delay: A belle indeed had on him set her heart His master's daughter felt LOVE'S poignant smart; A girl of most engaging mind and mien, And always steady in her conduct seen. Sincerity of soul or humour free, Or whether with her taste it might agree, A fool 'twas clear presided o'er her soul, And all her thoughts and actions felt control. Some bold gallant would p'erhaps inform her plain, She ever kept wild Folly in her train, And nothing say to me who tales relate; But oft on reason such proceedings wait. If you a goddess love, advance she'll make; Our belle the same advantages would take. Her fortune, wit, and charm, attention drew, And many sparks would anxiously pursue; How happy he who should her heart obtain, And Hymen prove he had not sighed in vain! But she had promised, to the modest youth, Who first was named, her confidence and truth; The little god of pleasing soft desire With full compliance with his whims require.

THe belle was pleased the 'prentice to prefer: A handsome lad with truth we may aver, Quite young, well made, with fascinating eye: Such charms are ne'er despised we may rely, But treasures thought, no FAIR will e'er neglect; Whate'er her senses say, she'll these respect. For one that LOVE lays hold of by the soul, A thousand by the eyes receive control.

THIS sprightly girl with soft endearing ease, Exerted ev'ry care the lad to please, To his regards she never shy appeared; Now pinched his arm, then smiled and often leered; Her hand across his eyes would sometimes put; At others try to step upon his foot. To this he nothing offered in reply, Though oft his throbbing bosom heaved a sigh.

So many tender scenes, at length we find, Produced the explanation LOVE designed; The youthful couple, we may well believe, Would from each other mutual vows receive; They neither promises nor kisses spared, Incalculable were the numbers shared; If he had tried to keep exact account, He soon had been bewildered with th' amount; To such infinity it clearly ran, Mistakes would rise if he pursued the plan; A ceremony solely was required, Which prudent girls have always much admired, Yet this to wait gave pain and made her grieve; From you, said she, the boon I would receive; Or while I live the rapture never know, That Hymen at his altar can bestow; To you I promise, by the pow'rs divine, My hand and heart I truly will resign. Howe'er I'll freely say, should Hymen fail To make me your's and wishes not prevail, You must not fancy I'll become a nun, Though much I hope to act as I've begun; To marry you would please me to the soul; But how can WE the ruling pow'rs control? Too much I'm confident you love my fame, To aim at what might bring me soon to shame: In wedlock I've been asked by that and this; My father thinks these offers not amiss; But, Nicaise, I'll allow you still to hope, That if with others I'm obliged to cope, No matter whether counsellor or judge. Since clearly ev'ry thing to such I grudge, The marriage eve, or morn, or day, or hour, To you I'll give--the first enchanting flow'r.

THE lad most gratefully his thanks returned; His breast with ev'ry soft emotion burned. Within a week, to this sweet charmer came, A rich young squire, who soon declared his flame; On which she said to Nicaise:--he will do; This spark will easily let matters through; And as the belle was confident of that, She gave consent and listened to his chat. Soon all was settled and arranged the day, When marriage they no longer would delay, You'll fully notice this:--I think I view The thoughts which move around and you pursue; 'Twas doubtless clear, whatever bliss in store, The lady was betrothed, and nothing more.

THOUGH all was fixed a week before the day, Yet fearing accidents might things delay, Or even break the treaty ere complete, She would not our apprentice fully greet, Till on the very morn she gave her hand, Lest chance defeated what was nicely planned.

HOWE'ER the belle was to the altar led, A virgin still, and doomed the squire to wed, Who, quite impatient, consummation sought, As soon as he the charmer back had brought; But she solicited the day apart, And this obtained, alone by prayers and art. 'Twas early morn, and 'stead of bed she dressed, In ev'ry thing a queen had thought the best; With diamonds, pearls, and various jewels rare; Her husband riches had, she was aware, Which raised her into rank that dress required, And all her neighbours envied and admired. Her lover, to secure the promised bliss, An hour's indulgence gained to take a kiss. A bow'r within a garden was the spot, Which, for their private meeting, they had got. A confidant had been employed around, To watch if any one were lurking found.

THE lady was the first who thither came; To get a nosegay was, she said, her aim; And Nicaise presently her steps pursued, Who, when the turf within the bow'r he viewed, Exclaimed, oh la! how wet it is my dear! Your handsome clothes will be spoiled I fear! A carpet let me instantly provide? Deuce take the clothes! the fair with anger cried; Ne'er think of that: I'll say I had a fall; Such accident a loss I would not call, When Time so clearly on the wing appears, 'Tis right to banish scruples, cares, and fears; Nor think of clothes nor dress, however fine, But those to dirt or flames at once resign; Far better this than precious time to waste, Since frequently in minutes bliss we taste; A quarter of an hour we now should prize, The place no doubt will very well suffice; With you it rests such moments to employ, And mutually our bosoms fill with joy. I scarcely ought to say what now I speak, But anxiously your happiness I seek.

INDEED, the anxious, tender youth replied, To save such costly clothes we should decide; I'll run at once, and presently be here; Two minutes will suffice I'm very clear. AWAY the silly lad with ardour flew, And left no time objections to renew. His wondrous folly cured the charming dame; Whose soul so much disdained her recent flame; That instantly her heart resumed its place, Which had too long been loaded with disgrace: Go, prince of fools, she to herself exclaimed, For ever, of thy conduct, be ashamed; To lose thee surely I can ne'er regret, Impossible a worse I could have met. I've now considered, and 'tis very plain, Thou merit'st not such favours to obtain; From hence I swear, by ev'ry thing above; My husband shall alone possess my love; And least I might be tempted to betray, To him I'll instantly the boon convey, Which Nicaise might have easily received; Thank Heav'n my breast from folly is relieved. This said, by disappointment rendered sour, The beauteous bride in anger left the bow'r. Soon with the carpet simple Nicaise came, And found that things no longer were the same.

THE lucky hour, ye suitors learn I pray, Is not each time the clock strikes through the day, In Cupid's alphabet I think I've read, Old Time, by lovers, likes not to be led; And since so closely he pursues his plan, 'Tis right to seize him, often as you can. Delays are dangerous, in love or war, And Nicaise is a proof they fortune mar.

QUITE out of breath with having quickly run; Delighted too that he so soon had done, The youth returned most anxious to employ, The carpet for his mistress to enjoy, But she alas! with rage upon her brow, Had left the spot, he knew not why nor how; And to her company returned in haste The flame extinguished that her mind disgraced. Perhaps she went the jewel to bestow, Upon her spouse, whose breast with joy would glow: What jewel pray?--The one that ev'ry maid Pretends to have, whatever tricks she's played. This I believe; but I'll no dangers run; To burn my fingers I've not yet begun; Yet I allow, howe'er, in such a case, The girl, who fibs, therein no sin can trace.

OUR belle who, thanks to Nicaise, yet retained; In spite of self, the flow'r he might have gained, Was grumbling still, when he the lady met Why, how is this, cried he, did you forget, That for this carpet I had gone away? When spread, how nicely on it we might play! You'd soon to woman change the silly maid; Come, let's return, and not the bliss evade; No fear of dirt nor spoiling of your dress; And then my love I fully will express.

NOT so, replied the disappointed dame, We'll put it off:--perhaps 'twould hurt your frame Your health I value, and I would advise, To be at ease, take breath, and prudence prize; Apprentice in a shop you now are bound Next 'prentice go to some gallant around; You'll not so soon his pleasing art require, Nor to your tutorage can I now aspire. Friend Nicaise take some neighb'ring servant maid, You're quite a master in the shopping trade; Stuffs you can sell, and ask the highest price; And to advantage turn things in a trice. But opportunity you can't discern; To know its value,--prithee go and learn.

THE PROGRESS OF WIT

DIVERTING in extreme there is a play, Which oft resumes its fascinating sway; Delights the sex, 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 god 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 passed, 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 circumstance disclosed, From first to last, each point and mystick hit, And e'en the largeness of the friar's wit, The repetitions, 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