Was non-resistance ever thought
By modern casuists a fault?
Were not her orders strict and plain?
All struggling dangerous and vain?
Well, down our younker trips again,
Much wishing, as he reel'd along,
For some rich cordial warm and strong.
In bed he quickly tumbled then,
Nor wak'd next morn till after ten.
Thus night by night he led his life,
Blessing all females but his wife;
Much work upon his hands there lav,
More bills were drawn than he could pay;
No lawyer drudg'd so hard as he,
In Easter Term or Hillary;
But lawyers labour for their fee;
Here no self-interest or gain,
The pleasure balances the pain.
So the great Sultan walks among
His troop of lasses fair and young;
So the town-bull in opentide,
His lowing lovers by his side,
Revels at large in Nature's right,
Curb'd by no law but appetite;
Frisking his tail, he roves at pleasure,
And knows no stint, and keeps no measure.
But now the ninth revolving moon
(Alas! it came an age too scon;
Curse on each hasty fleeting night !)
Some odd discov'ries brought to light.
Strange tympanies the women seize,
An epidemical disease;
Madam herself with these might pass
For a clean-shap'd and taper lass.
'Twas vain to hide th' apparent load,
For hoops were not then a-la-made;
Sue, being question'd, and hard-press'd,
Blubb'ring, the naked truth confess'd:
"Were not your orders most severe,
"That none should stop his night-career?
"And who durst, wake him? troth, not I;
"I was not then prepar'd to die."
"Well, Sue," said she, "thou shalt have grace,
"But then this night I take thy place,
"Thou mine, my night-clothes on thy head,
"Soon shall he leave thee safe in bed;
"Lie still, and stir not on thy life,
"But do the penance of a wife;
"Much pleasure hast thou had; at last
"'Tis proper for thy sins to fast."
This point agreed, to bed she went,
And Sue crept in, but ill content.
Soon as th' accustom'd hour was come,
The younker sally'd from his room,
To Sue's apartment whipp'd away,
And, like a lion, seiz'd his prey;
She clasp'd him in her longing arms,
Sharp-set, she feasted on his charms.
He did whate'er he could; but more
Was yet to do, encore, encore!
Fain would he now elope; she claspt
Him still, no bur e'er stuck so fast.
At length the morn, with envious light,
Discover'd all in what sad plight,
Poor man! he lay abash'd; for shame
He could not speak, not ev'n one lame
Excuse was left. She, with a grace
That gave new beauties to her face,
And with a kind obliging air
(Always successful in the fair)
Thus soon reliev'd him from despair.
"Ah! gen'rous youth! pardon a fault
"No foolish jealousy has taught;
"'Tis your own crime, open as day,
"To your conviction paves the way. "Oh! might this stratagem regain
"Your love! let me not plead in vain ;
"Something to gratitude is due,
"Have I not given all to you?”
Tom star'd, look'd pale, then in great haste
Slipp'd on his gown; yet thus at last
Spoke faintly, as amaz'd he stocd,
"I will, my dear, be very good."
VI. THE HAPPY DISAPPOINTMENT.
IN days of yore, when belles and beaus
Left masquerades and puppet-shows,
Deserted ombre and basset,
At Jonathan's to squeeze and sweat;
When sprightly rakes forsook Champaign,
The playhouse, and the merry main,
Good Mother Weyburn and the stews,
To smoke with brokers, stink with Jews;
In fine, when all the world run mad,
(A story not less true than sad)
Ned Smart, a virtuous youth, well known
To all this chaste and sober town,
Got ev'ry penny he could rally,
To try his fortune in Change-Alley;
In haste to loll in coach and six,
Bought bulls and bears, play'd twenty tricks
Amongst his brother lunatics.
Transported at his first success,
A thousand whims his fancy bless
With scenes of future happiness.
How frail are all our joys below!
Mere dazzling meteors, flash and show!
Oh, Fortune! false deceitful whore !
Caught in thy trap with thousands more,
He found his rhino sunk and gone,
Himself a bankrupt, and undone.
Ned could not well digest this change,
= Forc'd in the world at large to range,
With Babel's monarch turn'd to grass,
Would it not break an heart of brass?
'Tis vain to sob and hang the lip,
One penny left, he buys a slip,
At once his life and cares to lose;
Under his ear he fits the noose;
An hook in an old wall he spies,
To that the fatal rope he ties:
Like Curtius now, at one bold leap,
He plung'd into the gaping deep,
Nor did he doubt in hell to find
Dealings more just, and friends more kind.
As he began to twist and sprawl,
The loosen'd stones break from the wall;
Down drops the rake upon the spot,
And after him an earthen pot:
Reeling he rose, and gaz'd around,
And saw the crook lie on the ground;
Surpris'd, amaz'd, at this odd sight,
Trembling, he broke it in a fright;
When, lo! at once came pouring fourth
Ingots, and pearls, and gems of worth.
O'erjoy'd with Fortune's kind bequest,
He took the birds, but left the nest;
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