Fled back the very way he came,
And in the bufh foon found his game;
Brought in his mouth the favoury load,
And at his master's elbow stood.
O Lobb, what idioms can express
Thy ftrange confufion and diftrefs,
When on the floor the drawers display'd
The fulfome fecret had bewray'd?
No traitor, when his hand and feal
Produc'd his dark designs reveal,
E'er look'd with fuch a hanging face,
As Lobb half-dead at this disgrace.
Wild-ftaring, thunder-ftruck, and dumb,
While peals of laughter shake the room;
Each fafh thrown up to let in air,
The knight fell backward in his chair,
Laugh'd till his heart-strings almost break,
The chaplain giggled for a week;
Her ladyship began to call,
For hartshorn, and her Abigail;
The fervants chuckled at the door,
And all was clamour and uproar.
Rover, who now began to quake,
As conscious of his foul mistake,
Trufts to his heels to fave his life;
The fquire fneaks home, and beats his wife.
THE INQUISITIVE BRIDEGROOM:
FRANK PLUME, a spark about the town,
weary of intriguing grown,
Thought it advifeable to wed,
And chufe a partner of his bed,
Virtuous and chaste-Aye, right-but where
Is there a nymph that 's chaste as fair?
A bleffing to be priz'd, but rare.
For continence penurious heaven
With a too sparing hand has given ;
A plant but feldom to be found,
And thrives but ill on British ground.
Should our adventurer hafte on board,
And see what foreign foils afford?
Where watchful dragons guard the prize,
And jealous dons have Argus' eyes,
Where the rich cafket, clofe immur'd,
Is under lock and key secur'd?
No-Frank, by long experience wise,
Had known these forts took by furprize.
Nature in spite of art prevail'd,
And all their vigilance had fail’d.
The youth was puzzled-should he go
And fcale a convent? would that do?
Is nuns-flesh always good and fweet?
Fly-blown fometimes, not fit to eat.
Well-he refolves to do his best,
And prudently contrives this teft;
If the laft favour I obtain,
And the nymph yield, the case is plain :
Marry'd, the 'll play the fame odd prank
With others-fhe 's no wife for Frank.
But, could I find a female heart
Impregnable to force or art,
That all my batteries could withstand,
The fap, and even sword in hand;
Ye Gods! how happy should I be,
From each perplexing thought fet free,
From cuckoldom, and jealoufy!
The project pleas'd. He now appears,
And fhines in all his killing airs,
And every ufeful toy prepares.
New opera tunes, and billet-doux,
The clouded cane, and red-heel'd shoes;
Nor the clock-ftocking was forgot,
Th' embroider'd coat, and shoulder-knot:
All that a woman's heart might move,
The potent trumpery of love.
Here importunity prevails,
There tears in floods, or fighs in gales.
Now, in the lucky moment try'd,
Low at his feet the fair-one dy'd,
For Strephon would not be deny'd.
Then, if no motives could perfuade,
A golden fhower debauch'd the maid,
The mistress truckled, and obey'd.
To modesty a fham pretence
Gain'd fome, others impertinence;
But most, plain downright impudence.
Like Cæfar, now he conquer'd all,
The vaffal fex before him fall;
Wheree'er he march'd, flaughter enfued,
He came, he faw, and he fubdued.
At length a stubborn nymph he found,
For bold Camilla stood her ground;
Parry'd his thrusts with equal art,
And had him both in tierce and quart:
She kept the hero still in play,
And still maintain'd the doubtful day.
Here he refolves to make a ftand,
Take her, and marry out of hand.
The jolly priest soon ty'd the knot,
The luscious tale was not forgot,
Then empty'd both his pipe and pot.
The poffet drunk, the stocking thrown,
The candles out, the curtains drawn,
And fir and madam all alone;
"My dear," said he, "I ftrove, you know,
"To taste the joys you now bestow,
"All my persuasive arts I try'd,
"But ftill relentless you deny'd;
"Tell me, inexorable fair,
"How could you, thus attack'd, forbear?" "Swear to forgive what 's past," she cry'd; "The naked truth fhan't be deny'd."
He did; the baggage thus reply'd:
Deceiv'd fo many times before
By your false fex, I rafhly fwore,
To truft deceitful man no more.
OR fhame, faid Ebony, for shame,
"For Tom Ruby, troth, you're much to blame,
"To drink at this confounded rate, "To guzzle thus, early and late !”
Poor Tom, who just had took his whet,
And at the door his uncle met,
Surpriz❜d and thunder-ftruck, would fain
Make his escape, but, oh! in vain.
Each blush, that glow'd with an ill grace,
Lighted the flambeaux in his face;
No loop-hole left, no flight pretence,
To palliate the foul offence.
"I own," faid he, "I'm very bad-
"A fot-incorrigibly mad-
"But, fir-I thank you for your love,
"And by your lectures would improve :
"Yet, give me leave to fay, the street
"For conference is not fo meet.
" Here in this room-nay, fir, come in-
"Expofe, chastise me for
"Exert each trope, your utmost art,
To touch this fenfelefs, flinty heart.
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