Then from your back I might ascend the tree;
Do you but ftoop, and leave the reft to me.
With all my foul, he thus reply'd again,
I'd spend my dearest blood to eafe thy pain.
With that, his back against the trunk he bent,
She feiz'd a twig, and up the tree she went.
Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all!
Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:
'Tis truth I tell, though not in phrafe refin'd;
Though blunt my tale, yet honeft is my mind.
What feats the Lady in the Tree might do,
I pass, as gambols never known to you;
But fure it was a merrier fit, fhe swore,
Than in her life fhe ever felt before.
In that nice moment, lo! the wondering knight
Look'd out, and stood restor❜d to sudden fight.
Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent,
As one whofe thoughts were on his spouse intent;
But when he saw his bofom-wife so drefs'd,
His rage was fuch as cannot be exprefs'd:
Not frantic mothers when their infants die,
With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky:
He cry'd, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his hair;
Death! hell! and furies! what doft thou do there?
What ails my Lord? the trembling d: me reply'd;
I thought your patience had been better try'd:
Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind,
This my reward for having cur'd the blind?
Why was I taught to make my husband fee,
By ftruggling with a Man upon a Tree?
Did I for this the power of magic prove?
Unhappy wife, whofe crime was too much love! 765 If this be ftruggling, by this holy light,
'Tis ftruggling with a vengeance (quoth the Knight): So Heaven preferve the fight it has reftor'd,
As with these eyes I plainly faw thee whor'd;
Whor'd by my flave-perfidious wretch! may hell 770
As furely feize thee, as I faw too well!
Guard me, good Angels! cry'd the gentle May,
Pray Heaven, this magic work the proper way!
Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you fee,
You ne'er had us'd these killing words to me:
So help me, Fates, as 'tis no perfect fight,
But fome faint glimmering of a doubtful light.
What I have faid (quoth he) I must maintain,
For by th' immortal powers it seem'd too plain-
By all those powers, some frenzy feiz'd your mind
(Reply'd the dame): are these the thanks I find?
Wretch that I am, that e'er I was fo kind! :
She faid; a rifing figh exprefs'd her woe,
The ready tears apace began to flow,
And, as they fell, the wip'd from either eye
The drops (for women, when they lift, can cry).
The Knight was touch'd, and in his looks appear'd Signs of remorse, while thus his fpouse he chear'd: Madam, 'tis past, and my fhort anger o'er;
Come down, and vex your tender heart no more: 790* Excufe me, dear, if aught amifs was said,
For, on my foul, amends fhall foon be made:
Let my repentance your forgiveness draw,
By Heaven, I fwore but what I thought I faw.
Ah, my lov'd lord! 'twas much unkind (fhe cry'd)
On bare fufpicion thus to treat your bride.
But, till your fight 's establish'd, for a while,
Imperfect objects may your fense beguile.
Thus when from fleep we firft our eyes difplay,
The balls are wounded with the piercing ray,
And dufky vapours rife, and intercept the day.
So, just recovering from the fhades of night,
Your fwimming eyes are drunk with fudden light,
Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before
your fight:
Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rafhly deem;
Heaven knows how feldom things are what they feem!
Confult your reason, and you foon fhall find
"Twas you were jealous, not your wife unkind:
Jove ne'er fpoke oracle more true than this,
None judge fo wrong as those who think amifs.
With that the leap'd into her Lord's embrace,
With well-diffembled virtue in her face.
He hugg'd her clofe, and kifs'd her o'er and o'er,
Difturb'd with doubts and jealoufies no more:
Both, pleas'd and blefs'd, renew'd their mutual vows,
A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.
Thus ends our tale; whofe moral next to make,
Let all wife hufbands hence example take;
And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives,
To be fo well deluded by their wives.
And hear with reverence an experienc'd wife!
To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due,
And think, for once, a woman tells you true.
In all thefe trials I have borne a part,
I was myself the fcourge that caus'd the smart;
For, fince fifteen, in triumph have I led
Five captive Hufbands from the Church to bed.
Chrift faw a wedding once, the Scripture fays,
And faw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days;
Whence fome infer, whofe confcience is too nice,
No pious Christian ought to marry twice.
But let them read, and solve me, if they can,
The words addrefs'd to the Samaritan:
Five times in lawful wedlock fhe was join'd;
And fure the certain ftint was ne'er defin'd.
"Encrease and multiply," was Heaven's command,
And that's a text I clearly understand.
"This too, "Let men their fires and mothers leave,
And to their dearer wives for ever cleave."
More wives than one by Solomon were try'd
Or else the wifest of mankind 's bely'd.
I've had myself full many a merry fit;
And truft in heaven, I may have many yet,
For when my tranfitory fpoufe, unkind,
Shall die, and leave his woeful wife behind,
I'll take the next good Christian I can find.
Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn,
Declar'd 'twas better far to wed than burn.
There's danger in affembling fire and tow;
I grant them that, and what it means you
The fame apostle too has elsewhere own'd,
No precept for Virginity he found:
'Tis but a counfel-and we women still
Take which we like, the counsel, or our will.
I envy not their blifs, if he or fhe
Think fit to live in perfect chastity;
Pure let them be, and free from taint of vice;
I, for a few flight fpots, am not fo nice.
Heaven calls us different ways, on these bestows
One proper gift, another grants to those:
Not every man's obliged to fell his store,
And give up all his fubftance to the poor;
Such as are perfect may, I can't deny;
But, by your leaves, Divines, fo am not I.
Full many a Saint, fince first the world began,
Liv'd an unfpotted Maid, in fpite of man:
Let fuch (a-God's name) with fine wheat be fed,
And let us honeft wives eat barley bread.
For me, I'll keep the poft affign'd by heaven,
And ufe the copious talent it has given:
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