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If I in trifes be the wilful wife,
The lady fainted, and the husband sent Suill for your credit I would lose my life;
For every aid, for every comfort went; Go! and when fix'd the day of your return, Strong terror seized him; “O! she loved so Stay longer yet, and let the blockheads learn,
well, That though a wife may sometimes wish to rule, And who th' effect of tenderness conld tell ?" She would not make th' indulgent man a fool; She now recover'd, and again began I would at times advise—but idle they
With accent querulous-—"Ah! cruel man," Who think th' assenting husband must obey." Till the sad husband, conscience struck, conThe happy man, who thought his lady right
fess'd, In other cases, was assured to-night;
'Twas very wicked with his friend to jest; Then for the day with proud delight prepared, For now he saw that those who were obey'd, To show his doubting friends how much he could like the most subservient feel afraid ; dared.
And though a wife might not dispute the will Counter-who grieving sought his bed, his or her liege lord, she could prevent it still. rest
The morning came, and Clubb prepared to ride Broken by pictures of his love distress'd
With a smart boy, his servant and his guide ; With soft and winning speech the fair prepared ; When, ere he mounted on the ready steed, “She all his counsels comforts, pleasures Arrived a letter, and he stopp'd to read. shared :
· My friend,” he read—“Our journey I decline, She was assured he loved her from his soul, A heart too tender for such strife is mine; She never knew and need not fear control; Yours is the triumph, be you so inclined ; But so it happen'd he was grieved at heart But you are too considerate and kind. It happend so, that they a while must part In tender pity to my Juliet's fears A little time-the distance was but short,
I thus relent, o'ercome by love and tears ; And business callid him-he despised the sport; She knows your kindness; I have heard her say, But to Newmarket he engaged to ride,
A man like you ’tis pleasure to obey : With his friend Clubb,” and there he stopp'd and Each faithful wife, like ours, must disapprove sigh'd.
Such dangerous trifling with connubial love; A while the tender creature look'd dismay'd, What has the idle world, my friend, to do Then floods of tears the call of grief obey'd. With our affairs ? they envy me and you : “She an objection! No!" she sobb’d, “not What if I could my gentle spouse commandone ;
Is that a cause I should her tears withstand ? Her work was finish'd, and her race was run; And what if you, a friend of peace, submit For die she must, indeed she would not live To one you love-is that a theme for wit? A week alone, for all the world could give; 'Twas wrong, and I shall henceforth judge it weak He too must die in that same wicked place; Both of submission and control to speak : It always happen'd-was a common case ; Be it agreed that all contention cease, Among those horrid horses, jockeys, crowds, And no such follies vex our future peace ; 'Twas certain death—they might bespeak their Let each keep guard against domestic strife, shrowds;
And find nor slave nor tyrant in his wife.” lle would attempt a race, be sure to fall
· Agreed," said Clubb, “ with all my soul And she expire with terror--that was all;
agreed"With love like hers she was indeed unfit
And to the boy, delighted, gave his steed; To bear such horrors, but she must submit."
I think my friend has well his mind express'd, • But for three days, my love! three days at And I assent; such things are not a jest.” most"
" True," said the wise, “no longer he can hide “ Enough for me; I then shall be a ghost" The truth that pains him by his wounded pride: “ My honour's pledged !”—“0! yes, my dearest Your friend has found it not an easy thing, life,
Beneath his yoke, this yielding soul to bring ; I know your honour must outweigh your wife ; These weeping willows, though they seem inclined But ere this absence, have you sought a friend ? By every breeze, yet not the strongest wind I shall be dead-on whom can you depend ? Can from their bent divert this weak but stubborn Let me one favour of your kindness crave, Grant me the stone I mention'd for my grave." Drooping they seck your pity to excite, • Nay, love, attend—why, bless my soul-1 But 'tis at once their nature and delight; say
Such women seel not; while they sigh and I will return-there-weep no longer-nay !"
weep, “ Well! I obey, and to the last am true,
'Tis but their habit-their affections sleep; But spirits fail me ; I must die ; adieu !
They are like ice that in the hand we hold,
On such affection let not man rely,
“Go then, my love! it is a monstrous sum, But your friend's offer let us kindly take.
To all in turn full he allegiance swore,
And in his hat the various badges bore :
His liberal soul with every sect agreed,
Unheard their reasons, he received their creed ;
But the full purse these different merits gain'd, A fellow, sir, that I have known go about with my By strong demands his lively passions drain'd; troll-my-dames.
Liquors he loved of each inflaming kind,
To midnight revels flew with ardent mind ;
His boiling passions were by oaths expressid,
And lies he made his profit and his jest.
Such was the boy, and such the man had been,
But fate or happier fortune changed the scene; And whipp'd th' offending Adam out of him. A fever seized him, “ He should surely die—"
Henry V. act i. sc. 1.
He fear'd, and lo! a friend was praying by ;
And all the errors of his youth confess'd :
The good man kindly clear'd the sinner's way
To lively hope, and counsell'd him to pray ;
Who then resolved, should he from sickness rise,
To quit cards, liquors, poaching, oaths, and lies : Some to our hero have a hero's name
His health restored, he vet resolved, and grew Denied, because no father's he could claim; True to his masters, to their meeting true : Nor could his mother with precision state
His old companions at his sober face A full fair claim to her certificate;
Laugh'd loud, while he, attesting it was grace, On her own word the marriage must depend With tears besought them all his calling to emA point she was not eager to defend :
A convert meek, obedient, and afraid.
Suffice it then, our hero's name was clear, Pleased the grave friends, nor less his solemn For, call John Dighton, and he answer’d, “ Here!" tone, But who that name in early life assign'd
The lengthen'd face of care, the low and inward He never found, he never tried to find;
groan : Whether his kindred were to John disgrace, The stern good men exulted, when they saw Or John to them, is a disputed case ;
Those timid looks of penitence and awe; His infant state owed nothing to their care- Nor thonght that one so passive, humble, meek, His mind neglected, and his body bare;
Had yet a creed and principles to seek. All his success must on himself depend,
The faith that reason finds, confirms, avows, He had no money, counsel, guide, or friend ; The hopes, the views, the comforts she allowsBut in a market town an active boy
These were not his, who by his feelings found, Appear'd, and sought in various ways employ; And by them only, that his faith was sound ; Who soon, thus cast upon the world, began Feelings of terror these, for evil past, To show the talents of a thriving man.
Feelings of hope, to be received at last; With spirit high John learn'd the world to Now weak, now lively, changing with the day, brave,
These were his feelings, and he felt his way. And in both senses was a ready knave:
Sprung from such sources, will this faith remain Knave as of old, obedient, keen, and quick, While these supporters can their strength retain : Knave as at present, skill'd to shift and trick; As heaviest weights the deepest rivers pass, Some humble part of many trades he taught, While icy chains fast bind the solid mass ; He for the builder and the painter wrought; So, born of feelings, faith remains secure, For serving maids on secret errands ran,
Long as their firmness and their strength endure :
Such bridge is reason, and there faith relies,
His patrons, still disposed their aid to lend, Assistant poacher, he o'erlook'd the wood; Behind a counter placed their humble friend ; At an election John's impartial mind
Where pens and paper were on shelves display'd, Was to no cause nor candidate confined ;
And pious pamphlets on the windows laid;
By nature active and from vice restrain'd, And growing pride in Dighton's mind was bred
And now, his health restored, his spirits eased, To make him humble, and confine his views
A deputation from these friends select, Took him a comely and a courteous lass ;
Might reason with him to some good effect; Simple and civil, loving and beloved,
Arm'd with authority, and led by love, She long a fond and faithful partner proved; They might those follies from his mind remove; In every year the elders and the priest
Deciding thus, and with this kind intent, Were duly summond to a christening feast ; A chosen body with its speaker went. Nor came a babe, but by his growing trade, “ John," said the teacher, “ Jolin, with great John had provision for the coming made : For friends and strangers all were pleased to deal We see thy frailty, and thy fate discern; With one whose care was equal to his zeal. Satan with toils thy simple soul beset,
In human friendship, it compels a sigh, And thou art careless, slumbering in the net; To think what trifles will dissolve the tie.
Unmindful art thou of thy early vow? John, now become a master of his trade,
Who at the morning meeting sees thee now? Perceived how much improvement might be made ; Who at the evening ? where is brother John ? And as this prospect open’d to his view,
We ask-are answer'd, To the tavern gone : A certain portion of his zeal withdrew;
Thee on the Sabbath seldom we behold; His fear abated—“ What had he to fear
Thou canst not sing, thou’rt nursing for a cold; His profits certain, and his conscience clear ?" This from the churchmen thou hast learn'd, for they Above his door a board was placed by John, Have colds and fevers on the Sabbath day; And, “ Dighton, stationer," was gilt thereon ; When in some snug warm room they sit, and pen His window next, enlarged to twice the size, Bills from their ledgers, (world entangled men!) Shone with such trinkets as the simple prize ; “See with what pride thou hast enlarged thy shop; While in the shop with pious works were seen To view thy tempting stores the heedless stop; The last new play, review, or magazine :
By what strange names dost thou these baubles In orders punctual, he observed—“The books
know, He never read, and could he judge their looks ? Which wantons wear, to make a sinful show? Readers and critics should their merits try, Hast thou in view these idle volumes placed, He had no office but to sell and buy ;
To be the pander of a vicious taste ? Like other traders, profit was his care ;
What's here? a book of dances you advance Of what they print, the authors must beware.” In goodly knowledge—John, wilt learn to dance ? He held his patrons and his teachers dear, How ! Go!-' it says, and to the devil go! But with his trade-they must not interfere. And shake thyself! I tremble—but 'tis so
'Twas certain now that John had lost the dread Wretch as thou art, what answer canst thou make! And pious thoughts that once such terrors bred; 0! without question thou wilt go and shake. His habits varied, and he more inclined
What's here? the School for Scandal-pretty To the vain world, which he had half resign'd:
schools! He had moreover in his brethren seen,
Well, and art thou proficient in the rules! Or he imagined, craft, conceit, and spleen ; Art thou a pupil, is it thy design “They are but men,” said John, “and shall I then To make our names contemptible as thine ? Fear man's control, or stand in awe of men? "Old Nick, a novel! O! 'tis mighty well ; 'Tis their advice, (their convert's rule and law,) A fool has courage when he laughs at hell; And good it is—I will not stand in awe.”
• Frolic and Fun,' the humours of • Tim Grin;' Moreover Dighton, though he thought of books Why, John, thou grow'st facetious in thy sin ; As one who chiefly on the title looks,
And what? • th’Archdeacon's Charge '— 'tis Yet sometimes ponder'd o'er a page to find,
mighty wellWhen vex'd with cares, amusement for his mind; If Satan publish'd, thou wouldst doubtless sell ; And by degrees that mind had ireasured much Jests, novels, dances, and this precious stuff, From works his teachers were afraid to touch : To crown thy folly we have seen enough ; Satiric novels, poets bold and free,
We find thee fitted for each evil workAnd what their writers term philosophy ;
Do print the Koran, and become a Turk. All these were read, and he began to feel
“ John, thou art lost ; success and worldly pride Some self-approval on his bosom steal.
O'er all thy thoughts and purposes preside, Wisdom creates humility, but he
Have bound thee fast, and drawn thee far aside : Who thus collects it will not humble be :
Yet turn; these sin-traps from thy shop expel, No longer John was fill'd with pure delight Repent and pray, and all may yet be well. And humble reverence in a pastor's sight;
“And here thy wife, thy Dorothy, behold, Who, like a grateful zealot, listening stood, How fashion's wanton robes her form infold! To hear a man so friendly and so good ;
Can grace, can goodness with such trappings But felt the dignity of one who made
dwell ? Himself important by a thriving trade ;
John, thou hast made thy wife a Jezebel :
See! on her bosom rests the sign of sin,
“ Wretch that thou art," an elder cried," and gone The glaring proof of naughty thoughts within; For everlasting." -"Go thyself,” said John; What! 'uis a cross; come hither—as a friend Depart this instant, let me hear no more Thus from thy neck the shameful badge I rend." My house my castle is, and that my door." “ Rend, if you dare," said Dighton ; "you shall The hint they took, and from the door withdrew, find
And John to meeting bade a long adieu ; A man of spirit, though to peace inclined; Allach'd to business, he in time became Call me ungrateful! have I not my pay
A wealthy man of no inferior name. At all times ready for th' expected day? It seem'd, alas! in John's deluded sight, To share my plenteous board you deign to come, That all was wrong because not all was right; Myself your pupil, and my house your home; And when he found his teachers had their stains, And shall the persons who my meat enjoy
Resentment and not reason broke his chains : Talk of my faults, and treat me as a boy ?
Thus on his feelings he again relied, Have you not told how Rome's insulting priests And never look'd to reason for his guide : Led their meck laymen like a herd of beasts ; Could he have wisely view'd the frailty shown, And by their fleecing and their forgery made And rightly weigh’d their wanderings and his Their holy calling an accursed trade ?
own, Can you such acts and insolence condemn, He might have known that men may be sincere, Who to your utmost power resemble them? Though gay and feasting on the savoury cheer ;
* Concerns it you what books I set for sale ? That doctrines sound and sober they may teach, The tale perchance may be a virtuous tale ; Who love to eat with all the they preach; And for the rest, 'tis neither wise nor just, Nay, who believe the duck, the grape, the pine, In you, who read not, to condemn on trust; Were not intended for the dog and swine; Why should th' Archdeacon's Charge your spleen But Dighton's hasty mind on every theme excite?
Ran from the truth, and rested in th' extreme : He, or perchance th' archbishop, may be right. Flaws in his friends he found, and then withdrew
“ That from your meetings I refrain, is true ; (Vain of his knowledge) from their virtues too.
And on her stone the sacred text was seen,
Dighton with joy beheld his trade advance, Is it a wonder that a man like me
Yet seldom publish’d, loath to trust to chance ; Should such perfection in such teachers see? Then wed a doctor's sister-poor indeed, Nay, should conceive you sent from heaven to brave But skill'd in works her husband could not read; The host of sin, and sinful souls to save?
Who, if he wish'd new ways of wealth to seek, But as our reason wakes, our prospects clear, Could make her half-crown pamphlet in a week; And failings, flaws, and blemishes appear. This he rejected, though without disdain,
" When you were mounted in your rostrum high, And chose the old and certain way to gain. We shrank beneath your tone, your frown, your eye; Thus he proceeded, trade increased the while, Then you beheld us abject, fallen, low,
And fortune woo'd him with perpetual smile : And felt your glory from our baseness grow; On early scenes he sometimes cast a thought, Touch'd by your words, I trembled like the rest, When on his heart the mighty change was wrought; And my own vileness and your power confess’d : And all the ease and comfort converts find These, I exclaim'd, are men divine, and gazed Was magnitied in his reflecting mind : On him who taught, delighted, and amazed ; Then on the teacher's priestly pride he dwelt, Glad when he finish'd, if by chance he cast That caused his freedom, but with this he felt One look on such a sinner, as he pass'd.
The danger of the free--for since that day, ** But when I view'd you in a clearor light, No guide had shown, no brethren join'd his way; And saw the srail and carnal appetite ;
Forsaking one, he found no second creed, When, at his humble prayer, you deign'd to eat But reading doubted, doubting what to read. Saints as you are, a civil sinner's meat;
Still, though reproof had brought some present When as you sat contented and at ease,
pain, Nibbling at leisure on the ducks and pease ; The gain he made was fair and honest gain ; And, pleased some comforts in such place to find, He laid his wares, indeed, in public view, You could descend to be a little kind;
But that all traders claim a right to do: And gave us hope, in heaven there might be room By means like these, he saw his wealth increase, For a few souls besides your own to come ; And felt his consequence, and dwelt in peace. While this world's good engaged your carnal view, Our hero's age was threescore years and five, And like a sinner you enjoy'd it 100;
When he exclaim'd, “Why longer should I strive ? All this perceiving, can you think it strange Why more amass, who never must behold That change in you should work an equal change?" | A young John Dighton, to make glad the old ?"
(The sons he had to early graves were gone,
I had my comforts, and a growing trade And girls were burdens to the mind of John.) Gave greater pleasure than a fortune made ; “ Had I a boy, he would our name sustain, And as I more possess'd and reason'd more, That now to nothing must return again;
I lost those comforts I enjoy'd before, But what are all my profits, credit, trade,
When reverend guides I saw my table round, And parish honours !—folly and parade."
And in my guardian guest my safety found : Thus Dighton thought, and in his looks appear’d Now sick and sad, no appetite, no ease, Sadness increased by much he saw and heard : Nor pleasure have I, nor a wish to please ; The brethren often at the shop would stay, Nor views, nor hopes, nor plans, nor taste have I, And make their comments ere they walk'd away : Yet sick of life, have no desire to die.” They mark'd the window, fill'd in every pane
He said, and died ; his trade, his name is gone, With lawless prints of reputations slain;
And all that once gave consequence to John. Distorted forms of men with honours graced, Unhappy Dighton! had he found a friend, And our chief rulers in derision placed :
When conscience told him it was time to mend! Amazed they stood, remembering well the days A friend discreet, considerate, kind, sincere, When to be humble was their brother's praise ; Who would have shown the grounds of hope and When at the dwelling of their friend they stopp'd To drop a word, or to receive it dropp'd ;
And proved that spirits, whether high or low, Where they beheld the prints of men renown'd, No certain tokens of man's safety show; And far-famed preachers pasted all around; Had reason ruled him in her proper place, (Such moi is! eyes ! hair! so prim! so fierce! so And virtue led him while he lean'd on grace; sleek!
Had he while zealous been discreet and pure, They look'd as speaking what is wo to speak :) His knowledge humble, and his hope secure ;On these the passing brethren loved to dwell These guides had placed him on the solid rock, How long they spake! how strongly! warmly! Where faith had rested, nor received a shock; well!
But his, alas! was placed upon the sand,
A brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms, And he was ready with his friends to run;
That he suspects none; on whose foolish konesty When he, partaking with a chosen few,
My practice may ride easy. Felt the great change, sensation rich and new ?
King Lear, acl i. sc. 2 No! all is lost, her favours Fortune shower'd
He lets me feed with hinds, Upon the man, and he is overpower’d;
Bars me the place of brother.
As You Like It, act i. sc. 1. The world has won him with its tempting store
'Twas I, but 'tis not I: I do not shame Of needless wealth, and that has made him poor :
To tell you what I was, being what I am. Success undoes him, he has risen to fall,
Ib. act iv. sc. 3. Hlas gain'd a fortune, and has lost his all; Gone back from he will find his age
Than old George Fletcher, on the British coast, Loath to commence a second pilgrimage ;
Dwelt not a seaman who had more to boast; He has retreated from the chosen track ;'
Kind, simple, and sincere-he seldom spoke, And now must ever bear the burden on his back.” But sometimes sang and choruss’d,“ Hearts of Oak;"
Hurt by such censure, John began to find In dangers steady, with his lot content, Fresh revolutions working in his mind;
His days in labour and in love were spent. He sought for comfort in his books, but read
He left a son so like him, that the old Without a plan or method in his head;
With joy exclaim'd, “ 'tis Fletcher we behold;" What once amused, now rather made him sad, But to his brother when the kinsmen came, What should inform, increased the doubts he had; And view'd his form, they grudged the father's Shame would not let him seek at church a guide, And from his meeting he was held by pride ; George was a bold, intrepid, careless lad, His wife derided fears she ne felt,
With just the fail that his father had ; And passing brethren daily censures dealt; Isaac was weak, attentive, slow, exact, Hope for a son was now for ever past,
With just the virtues that his father lack'd. He was the first John Dighton, and the last; George lived at sea; upon the land a guestHis stomach fail'd, his case the doctor knew, He sought for recreation, not for rest; But said, “ He still might hold a year or two." While, far unlike, his brother's feebler form “No more!” he said, “ but why should I complain? Shrank from the cold, and shudder'd at the storm ; A life of doubt must be a life of pain :
Still with the seaman's to connect his trade, Could I be sure—but why should I despair ? The boy was bound where blocks and ropes were I'm sure my conduct has been just and fair ;
made. In youth indeed I had a wicked will,
George, strong and sturdy, had a tender mind, But I repented, and have sorrow still:
And was to Isaac pitiful and kind ;