A man more civil, sober, and discreet,

More grave and courteous, you could seldom meet :
Though frugal he, yet sumptuous was his board,
As if to prove how much he could afford;
For though reserved himself, he loved to see
His table plenteous, and his neighbours free :
Among these friends he sat in solemn style,
And rarely soften'd to a sober smile;

For this observant friends their reasons gave-
"Concerns so vast would make the idlest grave:
And for such man to be of language free,
Would seem incongruous as a singing tree:
Trees have their music, but the birds they shield
The pleasing tribute for protection yield;
Each ample tree the tuneful choir defends,
As this rich merchant cheers his happy friends!"
In the same town it was his chance to meet
A gentle lady, with a mind discreet;
Neither in life's decline, nor bloom of youth,
One famed for maiden modesty and truth:
By nature cool, in pious habits bred,

She look'd on lovers with a virgin's dread :
Deceivers, rakes, and libertines were they,
And harmless beauty their pursuit and prey;
As bad as giants in the ancient times

Were modern lovers, and the same their crimes:
Soon as she heard of her all-conquering charms,
At once she fled to her defensive arms;
Conn'd o'er the tales her maiden aunt had told,
And statue-like, was motionlike and cold;
From prayer of love, like that Pygmalion pray'd,
Ere the hard stone became the yielding maid-
A different change in this chaste nymph ensued,
And turn'd to stone the breathing flesh and blood:
Whatever youth described his wounded heart,
"He came to rob her, and she scorn'd his art;
And who of raptures once presumed to speak,
Told listening maids he thought them fond and
weak:

But should a worthy man his hopes display
In few plain words, and beg a yes or nay,
He would deserve an answer just and plain,
Since adulation only moved disdain-
Sir, if my friends object not, come again."

Hence our brave lover, though he liked the face,
Praised not a feature-dwelt not on a grace;
But in the simplest terms declared his state,

A widow'd man, who wish'd a virtuous mate;
Who fear'd neglect, and was compell'd to trust
Dependants wasteful, idle, or unjust;
Or should they not the trusted stores destroy,
At best, they could not help him to enjoy,
But with her person and her prudence blest,
His acts would prosper, and his soul have rest :
Would she be his ?"-"Why that was much to say;
She would consider: he a while might stay;
She liked his manners, and believed his word;
He did not flatter, flattery she abhorr'd:
It was her happy lot in peace to dwell-
Would change make better what was now so well?
But she would ponder."-" This," he said,
kind,"

66

was

His worldly wealth she sought, and quickly
grew

Pleased with her search, and happy in the view
Of vessels freighted with abundant stores,

Of rooms whose treasures press'd the groaning
floors;

And he of clerks and servants could display
A little army, on a public day.
Was this a man like needy bard to speak
Of balmy lip, bright eye, or rosy cheek?

The sum appointed for her widow'd state,
Fix'd by her friend, excited no debate;
Then the kind lady gave her hand and heart,
And, never finding, never dealt with art:
In his engagements she had no concern;
He taught her not, nor had she wish to learn:
On him in all occasions she relied,

His word her surety, and his worth her pride.
When ship was launch'd, and merchant Paul had
share,

Proud of th' event, and stately look'd the dame :
The husband met her at his study-door-

This way, my love-one moment and no more:
A trifling business-you will understand,
The law requires that you affix your hand;
But first attend, and you shall learn the cause
Why forms like these have been prescribed by
laws."

Then from his chair a man in black arose,
And with much quickness hurried off his prose :
That "Ellen Paul the wife, and so forth, freed
From all control, her own the act and deed,
And forasmuch"-said she, "I've no distrust,
For he that asks it is discreet and just;
Our friends are waiting-where am I to sign?
There!--Now be ready when we meet
dine."

This said, she hurried off in great delight,
The ship was launch'd, and joyful was the night.
Now, says the reader, and in much disdain,
This serious merchant was a rogue in grain;
A treacherous wretch, an artful, sober knave,
And ten times worse for manners cool and grave,
And she devoid of sense, to set her hand
To scoundrel deeds she could not understand.
Alas! 'tis true; and I in vain had tried
To soften crime, that cannot be denied ;
And might have labour'd many a tedious verse
The latent cause of mischief to rehearse :
Be it confess'd, that long, with troubled look,
This trader view'd a huge accompting book
(His former marriage for a time delay'd
The dreaded hour, the present lent its aid ;)
But he too clearly saw the evil day,
And put the terror, by deceit, away;

And begg'd to know "when she had fix'd her Thus by connecting with his sorrows crime, mind."

Romantic maidens would have scorn'd the air,
And the cool prudence of a mind so fair;
But well it pleased this wiser maid to find

Her own mild virtues in her lover's mind.

He gain'd a portion of uneasy time.-
All this too late the injured lady saw,
What love had given, again she gave to law;
His guilt, her folly-these at once impress'd
Their lasting feelings on her guileless breast.

to

But small the portion, and the wrong'd were wroth, The absent sick were soothed by her relief,
Nor to their debtor would a part allow;

And where to live he knew not-knew not how.
The wife a cottage found, and thither went
The suppliant man, but she would not relent:
Thenceforth she utter'd with indignant tone,
"I feel the misery, and will feel alone."
He would turn servant for her sake, would keep
The poorest school; the very streets would sweep,
To show his love." It was already shown :
And her affliction should be all her own.

As her free bounty sought the haunts of grief;

A plain and homely charity had she,

And loved the objects of her alms to see;
With her own hands she dress'd the savoury meat,
With her own fingers wrote the choice receipt;
She heard all tales that injured wives relate,
And took a double interest in their fate;
But of all husbands not a wretch was known
So vile, so mean, so cruel as her own.
This bounteous lady kept an active spy,

His wants and weakness might have touch'd her To search th' abodes of want, and to supply; heart,

This he resold, and, with each trifling gift,
Made shift to live, and wretched was the shift.

Nor will it be by every reader told
Who was this humble trader, poor and old.
In vain an author would a name suppress,
From the least hint a reader learns to guess;
Of children lost our novels sometimes treat,
We never care-assured again to meet :
In vain the writer for concealment tries,
We trace his purpose under all disguise;
Nay, though he tells us they are dead and gone,
Of whom we wot-they will appear anon;
Our favourites fight, are wounded, hopeless lie,
Survive they cannot-nay, they cannot die;
Now, as these tricks and stratagems are known,
'Tis best, at once, the simple truth to own.

This was the husband; in an humble shed
He nightly slept, and daily sought his bread :
Once for relief the weary man applied;
"Your wife is rich," the angry vestry cried:
Alas! he dared not to his wife complain,
Feeling her wrongs, and fearing her disdain:
By various methods he had tried to live,
But not one effort would subsistence give:
He was an usher in a school, till noise
Made him less able than the weaker boys;
On messages he went, till he in vain
Strove names, or words, or meanings to retain ;
Each small employment in each neighbouring town
By turn he took, to lay as quickly down:
For, such his fate, he fail'd in all he plann'd,
And nothing prosper'd in his luckless hand.
At his old home, his motive half suppress'd,
He sought no more for riches, but for rest :
There lived the bounteous wife, and at her gate
He saw in cheerful groups the needy wait;
"Had he a right with bolder hope t' apply?"
He ask'd, was answer'd, and went groaning by :
For some remains of spirit, temper, pride,
Forbade a prayer he knew would be denied.
Thus was the grieving man, with burden'd ass,
Seen day by day along the street to pass :
"Who is he, Susan? who the poor old man?
He never calls; do make him, if you can."
The conscious damsel still delay'd to speak,
She stopp'd confused, and had her words to seek;
From Susan's fears the fact her mistress knew,
And cried-" The wretch! what scheme has he
in view?

Is this his lot?-but let him, let him feel-
Who wants the courage, not the will to steal."
A dreadful winter came, each day severe,
Misty when mild, and icy cold when clear;
And still the humble dealer took his load,
Returning slow, and shivering on the road :
The lady, still relentless, saw him come,

wrong;

But look, (God bless him!) how he gropes along."-
Brought me to shame."-"O! yes, I know it
all;

What cutting blast! and he can scarcely crawl;
He freezes as he moves; he dies! if he should fall.
With cruel fierceness drives this icy sleet,
And must a Christian perish in the street,

In sight of Christians ?-There! at last, he lies ;-
Nor unsupported can he ever rise:

He cannot live."-" But is he fit to die?"-
Here Susan softly mutter'd a reply,
Look'd round the room, said something of its
state,

Dives the rich, and Lazarus at his gate;
And then aloud-" In pity do behold
The man affrighten'd, weeping, trembling, cold:
O! how those flakes of snow their entrance win
Through the poor rags, and keep the frost within;
His very heart seems frozen as he goes,
Leading that starved companion of his woes :
He tried to pray-his lips, I saw them move,
And he so turn'd his piteous looks above;
But the fierce wind the willing heart opposed,
And, ere he spoke, the lips in misery closed :
Poor suffering object! yes, for ease you pray'd,
And God will hear-he only, I'm afraid."

"Peace! Susan, peace! Pain ever follows sin." -"Ah! then," thought Susan, "when will ours begin?

When reach'd his home, to what a cheerless fire
And chilling bed will those cold limbs retire!
Yet ragged, wretched as it is, that bed
Takes half the space of his contracted shed;
I saw the thorns beside the narrow grate,
With straw collected in a putrid state :
There will he, kneeling, strive the fire to raise,
And that will warm him, rather than the blaze;
The sullen, smoky blaze, that cannot last
One moment after his attempt is past :
And I so warmly and so purely laid,
To sink to rest-indeed, I am afraid."-
"Know you his conduct?"-"Yes, indeed, I
know--

And how he wanders in the wind and snow:
Safe in our rooms the threatening storm we hear,
But he feels strongly what we faintly fear."-
"Wilful was rich, and he the storm defied,

And said, "I wonder, has the wretch a home?"-Wilful is poor, and must the storm abide;"

"A hut! a hovel !"-" Then his fate appears

To suit his crime."-" Yes, lady, not his years ;-
No! nor his sufferings, nor that form decay'd."-
"Well! let the parish give its paupers aid;
You must the vileness of his acts allow."-
"And you, dear lady, that he feels it now."-
"When such dissemblers on their deeds reflect,
Can they the pity they refused expect?
He that doth evil, evil shall he dread."-

"The snow," quoth Susan, "falls upon his bed

Said the stern lady-" "Tis in vain to feel;
Go and prepare the chicken for our meal."

Susan her task reluctantly began,

And utter'd as she went-"The poor old man!"
But while her soft and ever-yielding heart
Made strong protest against her lady's part,
The lady's self began to think it wrong
To feel so wrathful and resent so long.

It blows beside the thatch-it melts upon his head." No more behold him-but she would sustain ;

Great his offence, and evil was his mind,--
But he had suffer'd, and she would be kind :
She spurn'd such baseness, and she found
within

A fair acquittal from so foul a sin;

Yet she too err'd, and must of Heaven expect
To be rejected, him should she reject."

Susan was summon'd; "I'm about to do
A foolish act, in part seduced by you;
Go to the creature, say that I intend,
Foe to his sins, to be his sorrow's friend;
Take, for his present comforts, food and wine,
And mark his feelings at this act of mine:
Observe if shame be o'er his features spread,
By his own victim to be soothed and fed;
But, this inform him, that it is not love
That prompts my heart, that duties only move:
Say, that no merits in his favour plead,
But miseries only, and his abject need;

Nor bring me grovelling thanks, nor high-flown
praise;

I would his spirits, not his fancy raise;
Give him no hope that I shall ever more
A man so vile to my esteem restore;
But warn him rather, that, in time of rest,
His crimes be all remember'd and confess'd :
I know not all that form the sinner's debt,
But there is one that he must not forget."
The mind of Susan prompted her with speed
To act her part in every courteous deed:
All that was kind she was prepared to say,
And keep the lecture for a future day;
When he had all life's comforts by his side,
Pity might sleep, and good advice be tried.
This done, the mistress felt disposed to look,
As self-approving, on a pious book:
Yet, to her native bias still inclined,
She felt her act too merciful and kind;
But when, long musing on the chilling scene
So lately past-the frost and sleet so keen-
The man's whole misery in a single view-
Yes! she could think some pity was his due.

Thus fix'd, she heard not her attendant glide
With soft slow step-till, standing by her side,
The trembling servant gasp'd for breath, and
shed

Relieving tears, then utter'd-" He is dead!" "Dead!" said the startled lady.

fell

Yes, he

Close at the door where he was wont to dwell;
There his sole friend, the ass, was standing by,
Half dead himself, to see his master die."

ib. act. ii. sc. 1. COUNTER and CLUBB were men in trade, whose pains,

Credit, and prudence, brought them constant gains;
Partners and punctual, every friend agreed
Counter and Clubb were men who must succeed.
When they had fix'd some little time in life,
Each thought of taking to himself a wife;
As men in trade alike, as men in love
They seem'd with no according views to move;
As certain ores in outward view the same,
They show'd their difference when the magnet

came.

Counter was vain: with spirit strong and high,
'Twas not in him like suppliant swain to sigh:
"His wife might o'er his men and maids preside,
And in her province be a judge and guide;
But what he thought, or did, or wish'd to do,
She must not know, or censure if she knew;
At home, abroad, by day, by night, if he
On aught determined, so it was to be:
How is a man," he ask'd, " for business fit,
Who to a female can his will submit?
Absent a while, let no inquiring eye
Or plainer speech presume to question why,
But all be silent; and, when seen again,
Let all be cheerful;-shall a wife complain?
Friends I invite, and who shall dare t' object,
Or look on them with coolness or neglect?
No! I must ever of my house be head,
And, thus obey'd, I condescend to wed."
Clubb heard the speech-" My friend is nice,"
said he;

"A wife with less respect will do for me:
How is he certain such a prize to gain?
What he approves, a lass may learn to feign,
And so affect t' obey, till she begins to reign;

"Expired he then, good Heaven! for want of A while complying, she may vary then,

food?"

And be as wives of more unwary men ;
Besides, to him who plays such lordly part
How shall a tender creature yield her heart?
Should he the promised confidence refuse,
She may another more confiding choose;
May show her anger, yet her purpose hide,
And wake his jealousy, and wound his pride.
In one so humbled, who can trace the friend?
I on an equal, not a slave, depend;
If true, my confidence is wisely placed,
And being false, she only is disgraced."

Clubb, with these notions, cast his eye around,
And one so easy soon a partner found.
The lady chosen was of good repute;
Meekness she had not, and was seldom mute;