Chapter 4

THE husband 'tween the sheets himself had plac'd; The nymph was in her petticoat, unlac'd; When suddenly appear'd the wily wife, And promis'd harmony was turn'd to strife. Are these your freaks, cried she with mark'd surprise; Your usual dish it seems then don't suffice; You want, indeed, to have some nicer fare? A little sooner, by the saints I swear, You'd me a pretty trick, 'tis clear, have shown, And doubtless, then, tit bits to keep been prone. This, howsoe'er, to get you're not design'd, So elsewhere you may try what you can find. And as to you, miss Prettyface, you jade, Good heav'ns! to think a paltry servant maid Should rival me? I'll beat you black and blue! The bread I eat, indeed, must be for you? But I know better, and indeed am clear, Not one around will fancy I appear So void of charms, so faded, wither'd, lost, That I should out of doors at once be tost; But I will manage matters:--I design This girl no other bed shall have than mine; Then who so bold to touch her there will dare? Come, Miss, let's to my room at once repair; Away--your things to-morrow you can seek; If scandal 'twould spread around, I'd wreak My vengeance instantly, and turn you out; But I am lenient, and desire no rout; Perhaps your ruin may be sav'd by care; So night and day your company I'll share; No more my bosom then will feel dismay, For I shall see that you no frolicks play.

ON this the trembling girl, o'ercome with fears; Held down her head and seem'd to hide her tears; Pick'd up her clothes and quickly stole away, As if afraid her mistress more might say; And hop'd to act the maid while Sol gave light, But play at ease the fond gallant at night; At once she fill'd two places in the house, And thought in both the husband she should chouse, Who bless'd his stars that he'd escap'd so well, And sneak'd alone to rest within his cell, While our gay, am'rous pair advantage took, To play at will, and ev'ry solace hook, Convinc'd most thoroughly, once lovers kiss'd, That OPPORTUNITY should n'er be miss'd. Here ends the trick our wily gossip play'd; But now let's see the plot another laid.

THE second dame, whose husband was so meek, That only from her lips the truth he'd seek, When seated with him 'neath a pear tree's shade, Contriv'd at ease and her arrangement made. The story I shall presently relate; The butler, strong, well dress'd, and full of prate: Who often made the other servants trot, Stood near when madam hit upon her plot, To whom she said, I wish the fruit to taste; On which the man prepar'd with ev'ry haste, To climb the tree, and off the produce shook; But while above, the fellow gave a look Upon the ground below, and feign'd he saw The spouse and wife--do more than kiss and paw: The servant rubb'd his eyes, as if in doubt, And cried: why truly, sir, if you're so stout, That you must revel 'mid your lady's charms, Pray elsewhere take her to your longing arms, Where you at ease may frolick hours or days, Without my witnessing your loving ways; Indeed, I'm quite surprised at what I spy In publick, 'neath a tree such pranks to try! And, if you don't a servant's presence heed, With decency howe'er you should proceed. What, still go on? for shame, I say, for shame! Pray wait till by and by; you're much to blame; Besides, the nights are long enough you'll find; Heav'n genial joys for privacy design'd; And why this place, when you've nice chambers got? What, cried the lady, says this noisy sot? He surely dreams; Where can he learn these tales? Come down; let's see what 'tis the fellow ails. Down William came. How? said the master, how? Are we at play?

WILLIAM

Not now, sir, no, not now.

HUSBAND

Why, when then, friend?

WILLIAM

While I was in the tree, Alive, sir, flay me, if I did not see You on the verdant lawn my lady lay, And kiss, and toy, and other frolicks play.

WIFE

'Twere surely better if thou held'st thy tongue, Or thou'lt a beating get before 'tis long.

HUSBAND

No, no, my dear, he's mad, and I design The fellow in a madhouse to confine.

WILLIAM Is't folly, pray, to see what we behold?

WIFE

What hast thou seen?

WILLIAM

What I've already told:-- My master and yourself at Cupid's game, Or else the tree 's enchanted I proclaim.

WIFE

ENCHANTED! nonsense; such a sight to see!

HUSBAND

To know the truth myself, I'll climb the tree, Then you the fact will quickly from me learn; We may believe what we ourselves discern.

SOON as the master they above descried, And that below our pair he sharply eyed, The butler took the lady in his arms, And grew at once familiar with her charms; At sight of this the husband gave a yell: Made haste to reach the ground, and nearly fell; Such liberties he wish'd at once to stop, Since what he'd seen had nearly made him drop. How! how!--cried he:--what, e'en before my sight? What can you mean? said she without affright.

HUSBAND

DAR'ST thou to ask again?

WIFE

AND why not, pray?

HUSBAND

FINE, pretty doings!--Presently you'll say; That what I've seen 'tis folly to believe.

WIFE

Too much is this:--such accusations grieve.

HUSBAND

Thou did'st most clearly suffer his embrace.

WIFE I? WHY, you dream!

HUSBAND

This seems a curious case. MY reason's flown'! or have I lost my eyes?

WIFE

CAN you suppose my character I prize So very little, that these pranks I'd play Before your face, when I might ev'ry day Find minutes to divert myself at will, And (if lik'd such frolicks) take my fill?

HUSBAND

I KNOW not what to think nor what to do; P'rhaps this same tree can tricks at will pursue; Let's see again; aloft he went once more, And William acted as he'd done before; But now the husband saw the playful squeeze; Without emotion, and returned at ease. To find the cause, said he, no longer try, The tree's enchanted, we may well rely.

SINCE, that's the fact, replied the cunning jade; To burn it, quickly William seek fort aid; The tree accurst no longer shall remain; Her will the servant wish'd not to restrain, But soon some workmen brought, who felled the tree; And wondered what the fault our fair could see. Down hew it, cried the lady, that's your task; More concerns you not; folly 'tis to ask.

OUR second gossip thus obtained success; But now the third: we'll see if she had less: To female friends she often visits paid, And various pastimes there had daily play'd; A leering lover who was weary grown, Desired ONE night she'd meet him quite alone. TWO, if you will, replied the smiling fair; A trifle 'tis you ask, and I'll repair Where'er you wish, and we'll recline at ease; My husband I can manage, if I please, While thus engag'd.--The parties soon agreed; But still the lady for her wits had need, Since her dear man from home but rarely went, No pardons sought at Rome, but was content With what he nearer got, while his sweet wife More fondness mark'd for gratifying life, And ever anxious, warmest zeal to show, Was always wishing distant scenes to know; As pilgrim oft she'd trod a foreign road, But now desir'd those ancient ways t'explode; A plan more rare and difficult she sought, And round her toe our wily dame bethought, To tie a pack-thread, fasten'd to the door, Which open'd to the street: then feign'd to snore Beside her husband, Harry Berlinguier, (So, usually, they nam'd her wedded dear.)

HOWE'ER, so cunningly with him she dealt, That Harry turn'd, and soon the pack-thread felt, Which rais'd distrust, and led him to suspect Some bad design the thread was meant t'effect.

A LITTLE time, as if asleep, he lay Considering how to act, or what to say; Then rose, (his spouse believing not awake,) And softly treading, lest the room should shake; The pack-thread follow'd to the outer door, And thence concluded (what he might deplore,) That his dear partner from her faith would stray, And some gallant that night design'd to play The lover's part and draw the secret clue, When she would rise, and with him freaks pursue, While he (good husband!) quietly in bed Might sleep, not dreaming that his wife had fled.

FOR otherwise, what use such pains to take? A visit cuckoldom, perhaps, might make; An honour that he'd willingly decline; On which he studied how to countermine; And like a sentinel mov'd to and fro', To watch if any one would thither go To pull the string, that he could see with ease, And then he'd instantly the culprit seize.

THE reader will perceive, we may suppose, Besides the entrance which the husband chose, On t'other side a door, where our gallant Could enter readily, as he might want, And there the spark a chambermaid let in:-- Oft servants prone are found a bribe to win.

WHILE Berlinguier thus watch'd around and round; The friends with one another pleasures found; But heav'n alone knows how nor what they were:-- No fact transpir'd save all was free from care; So well the servant kept the careful watch, That not a chance was given the pair to catch:

THE spark at dawn the lady left alone, And ere the husband came the bird was flown; Then Harry, weary, took his place again, Complaining, that he'd felt such racking pain, And dreading, lest alarms her breast should seize, Within another room he'd sought for ease.

Two days had pass'd, when madam thought once more, To set the thread, as she had done before; He left the bed, pretending he was sick, Resumed his post; again the lover came, And, with my lady, play'd the former game.

THE scheme so well succeeded, that the pair Thrice wish'd to try the wily pack-thread snare; The husband with the cholic mov'd away, His place the bold gallant resum'd till day.

AT length their ardour 'gan, it seems, to cool, And Harry, they no longer tried to fool; 'Twas time to seek the myst'ry of the plot, Since, to three acts, the comedy was got.

AT midnight, when the spark had left the bed; A servant, by his orders, drew the thread; On whom the husband, without fear, laid hold, And with him enter'd like a soldier bold, Not then supposing he'd a valet seiz'd; Well tim'd it prov'd, howe'er;--the lady pleas'd Her voice to raise, on hearing what was said, And through the house confusion quickly spread.

THE valet now before them bent the knee, And openly declar'd, he came to see The chambermaid, whom he was wont to greet, And by the thread to rouse when time to meet:

ARE these your knavish tricks, replied the dame, With eyes upon her maid that darted flame; When I by chance observ'd about your toe, A thread one night, I then resolv'd to know Your scheme in full, and round my own I tied A clue, on which I thoroughly relied, To catch this gay gallant, that you pretend Your husband will become, I apprehend.

Be that as 'twill, to-night from hence you go. My dear, said Berlinguier, I'd fain say no; Let things remain until to-morrow, pray And then my lady presently gave way. A fortune Harry on the girl bestow'd; The like our valet to his master ow'd; To church the happy couple smiling went:-- They'd known each other long, and were content.

THUS ended then, the third and last amour; The trio hasten'd Macae to implore, To say which gain'd the bet, who soon replied:-- I find it, friends, not easy to decide.

THE case hangs up, and there will long remain; 'Tis often thus when justice we'd obtain:

THE OLD MAN'S CALENDAR

OFT have I seen in wedlock with surprise, That most forgot from which true bliss would rise When marriage for a daughter is designed, The parents solely riches seem to mind; All other boons are left to heav'n above, And sweet SIXTEEN must SIXTY learn to love! Yet still in other things they nicer seem, Their chariot-horses and their oxen-team Are truly matched;--in height exact are these, While those each shade alike must have to please; Without the choice 'twere wonderful to find, Or coach or wagon travel to their mind. The marriage journey full of cares appears, When couples match in neither souls nor years! An instance of the kind I'll now detail: The feeling bosom will such lots bewail!

QUINZICA, (Richard), as the story goes, Indulged his wife at balls, and feasts, and shows, Expecting other duties she'd forget, In which howe'er he disappointment met. A judge in Pisa, Richard was, it seems, In law most learned: wily in his schemes; But silver beard and locks too clearly told, He ought to have a wife of diff'rent mould; Though he had taken one of noble birth, Quite young, most beautiful, and formed for mirth, Bartholomea Galandi her name; The lady's parents were of rank and fame; Our JUDGE herein had little wisdom shown, And sneering friends around were often known To say, his children ne'er could fathers lack: At giving counsel some have got a knack, Who, were they but at home to turn their eyes, Might find, perhaps, they're not so over-wise.

QUINZICA, then perceiving that his pow'rs Fell short of what a bird like his devours, T'excuse himself and satisfy his dear, Pretended that, no day within the year, To Hymen, as a saint, was e'er assigned, In calendar, or book of any kind, When full ATTENTION to the god was paid:-- To aged sires a nice convenient aid; But this the sex by no means fancy right; Few days to PLEASURE could his heart invite At times, the week entire he'd have a fast; At others, say the day 'mong saints was classed, Though no one ever heard its holy name;-- FAST ev'ry Friday--Saturday the same, Since Sunday followed, consecrated day; Then Monday came:--still he'd abstain from play; Each morning find excuse, but solemn feasts Were days most sacred held by all the priests; On abstinence, then, Richard lectures read, And long before the time, was always led By sense of right, from dainties to refrain: A period afterward would also gain; The like observed before and after Lent; And ev'ry feast had got the same extent; These times were gracious for our aged man; And never pass them was his constant plan.

OF patron saints he always had a list; Th' evangelists, apostles, none he miss'd; And that his scruples might have constant food; Some days malign, he said, were understood; Then foggy weather;--dog-days' fervent heat: To seek excuses he was most complete, And ne'er asham'd but manag'd things so well, Four times a year, by special grace, they tell, Our sage regal'd his youthful blooming wife, A little with the sweets of marriage life.

WITH this exception he was truly kind, Fine dresses, jewels, all to please her mind; But these are bawbles which alone controul Those belles, like dolls, mere bodies void of soul. Bartholomea was of diff'rent clay; Her only pleasure (as our hist'ries say), To go in summer to the neighb'ring coast, Where her good spouse a charming house could boast, In which they took their lodging once a week; At times they pleasure on the waves would seek, As fishing with the lady would agree, And she was wond'rous partial to the sea, Though far to sail they always would refuse. One day it happened better to amuse, Our couple diff'rent fishing vessels took, And skimm'd the wave to try who most could hook, Of fish and pleasure; and they laid a bet, The greatest number which of them should get. On board they had a man or two at most. And each the best adventure hop'd to boast.

A CERTAIN pirate soon observ'd the ship, In which this charming lady made the trip, And presently attack'd and seiz'd the same; But Richard's bark to shore in safety came; So near the land, or else he would not brave, To any great extent, the stormy wave, Or that the robber thought if both he took, He could not decently for favours look, And he preferr'd those joys the FAIR bestow, To all the riches which to mortals flow.

ALTHOUGH a pirate, he had always shown Much honour in his acts, as well was known; But Cupid's frolicks were his heart's delight: None truly brave can ever beauty slight; A sailor's always bold and kind and free, Good lib'ral fellows, such they'll ever be; 'Mong saints indeed 'twere vain their names to seek! The man was good howe'er of whom we speak; His usual name was Pagamin Montegue; For hours the lady's screams were heard a league, While he each minute anxiously would seize, To cheer her spirits and her heart to please; T'attain his wish he ev'ry art combined; At length the lovely captive all resigned. 'Twas Cupid conquer'd, Cupid with his dart; A thousand times more pirate in his art, Than Pagamin; on bleeding hearts he preys, But little quarter gives, nor grace displays: To pay her ransom she'd enough of gold; For this her spouse was truly never cold; No fast nor festival therein appear'd, And her captivity he greatly fear'd.

THIS calendar o'erspread with rubrick days; She soon forgot and learn'd the pirate's ways; The matrimonial zone aside was thrown, And only mentioned where the fact was known:

OUR lawyer would his fingers sooner burn; Than have his wife but virtuous home return; By means of gold he entertain'd no doubt, Her restoration might be brought about. A passport from the pirate he obtain'd, Then waited on him and his wish explain'd; To pay he offer'd what soe'er he'd ask; His terms accept, though hard perhaps the task;

THE robber answer'd, if my name around, Be not for honourable acts renown'd, 'Tis quite unjust:--your partner I'll restore In health, without a ransom:--would you more? A friendship so respect'd, heav'n forefend! Should ever, by my conduct, have an end. The fair, whom you so ardently admire, Shall to your arms return as you desire, Such pleasure to a friend I would not sell; Convince me that she's your's, and all is well; For if another I to you should give, (And many that I've taken with me live,) I surely should incur a heavy blame; I lately captur'd one, a charming dame, With auburn locks, a little fat, tall, young; If she declare she does to you belong, When you she's seen, I will the belle concede; You'll take her instantly; I'll not impede.

THE sage replied, your conduct's truly wise; Such wond'rous kindness fills me with surprise; But since 'tis said that every trade must live, The sum just mention:--I'll the ransom give; No compliment I wish, my purse behold You know the money presently is told; Consider me a stranger now I pray; With you I'd equal probity display, And so will act, I swear, as you shall see; There 's not a doubt the fair will go with me; My word for this I would not have you take:-- You'll see how happy 'twill the lady make To find me here; to my embrace she'll fly; My only fears--that she of joy will die. To them the charmer now was instant brought, Who eyed her husband as beneath a thought; Received him coldly, just as if he'd been A stranger from Peru, she ne'er had seen.

LOOK, said Quinzica, she's ashamed 'tis plain So many lookers on her love restrain; But be assured, if we were left alone, Around my neck her arms would soon be thrown.

IF this, replied the pirate, you believe, Attend her toilet:--naught can then deceive. Away they went, and closely shut the door; When Richard said, thou darling of my store, How can'st thou thus behave? my pretty dove, 'Tis thy Quinzica, come to seek his love, In all the same, except about his wife; Dost in this face a change observe my life? '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.