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Think not your foftest numbers can display
The matchlefs glories of this blifsful day :
The joys are fuch, as far tranfcend your rage,
When tender youth has wedded stooping age.
The beauteous dame fat smiling at the board,
And darted amorous glances at her lord.
Not Hefter's felf, whose charms the Hebrews fing,
E'er look'd fo lovely on her Perfian king:
Bright as the rising fun in fummer's day,
And fresh and blooming as the month of May!
The joyful knight furvey'd her by his fide,
Nor envy'd Paris with the Spartan bride :
Still as his mind revolv'd with vast delight
Th' entrancing raptures of th' approaching night
Reftless he fat, invoking every power
To speed his blifs, and haste the happy hour.
Meantime the vigorous dancers beat the ground,
And fongs were fung, and flowing bowls went
round.

With odorous fpices they perfum'd the place,
And mirth and pleasure fhone in every face.
Damian alone, of all the menial train,
Sad in the midst of triumphs, figh'd for pain;
Damian alone, the Knight's obfequious Squire,
Confum'd at heart, and fed a secret fire,
His lovely mistress all his foul poffefs'd;
He look'd, he languish'd, and could take no rest:
His task perform'd, he fadly went his way,
Fell on his bed, and loth'd the light of day.
There let him lie, till his relenting dame
Weep in her turn, and waste in equal flame.
The weary fun, as learned poets write,
Forfook th' horizon, and roll'd down the light;
While glittering ftars his abfent beams fupply,
And night's dark mantle overspread the sky.
Then rofe the guests; and, as the time requir'd,
Each paid his thanks, and decently retir'd. [drefs,
The foe once gone, our knight prepar'd t' un-
So keen he was, and eager to poffefs:
But first thought fit th' affiftance to receive,
Which grave phyficians fcruple not to give;
Satyrion near, with hot Eringos stood,
Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood,
Whose use old bards describe in lufcious rhymes,
And critics learn'd explain to modern times.

By this the fheets were fpread, the bride undrefs'd,

The room was sprinkled, and the bed was blefs'd.
What next enfued befeems me not to say;
'Tis fung, he labour'd till the dawning day,
Then brily fprung from bed, with heart fo light,
As all were nothing he had done by night;
And fipp'd his cordial as he fat upright.
He kifs'd his balmy spouse with wanton play,
And feebly fung a lufty roundely:
Then on the couch his weary limbs he caft;
For every labour must have reft at laft.

But anxious cares the penfive Squire opprefs'd,
Sleep fled his eyes, and peace forfook his breaft:
The raging flames that in his bofom dwell,
He wanted art to hide, and means to tell;
Yet hoping time th' occafion might betray,
Compos'd a fonnet to the lovely May;
Which, writ and folded with the niceft art,
He wrapp'd in filk, and laid upon his heart.

When now the fourth revolving day was run, ('Twas June, and Cancer had receiv'd the fun) Forth from her chamber came the beauteous bride; The good old Knight mov'd slowly by her fide. High mafs was fung; they feasted in the hall; The fervants round ftood ready at their call. The Squire alone was abfent from the board, And much his sickness griev'd his worthy lord. Who pray'd his spouse, attended with her train, To vifit Damian, and divert his pain. Th' obliging dames obey'd with one confent; They left the hall, and to his lodging went. The female tribe furround him as he lay, And close beside him fat the gentle May: Where, as the try'd his pulfe, he softly drew A heaving figh, and cast a mournful view! Then gave his bill, and brib'd the powers divine, With fecret vows, to favour his defign.

Who studies now but difcontented May? On her foft couch uneafily fhe lay: The lumpish husband fnor'd away the night, Till coughs awak'd him near the morning light. What then he did, I'll not presume to tell, Nor if the thought herself in heaven or hell: Honeft and dull in nuptial bed they lay, Till the bell toll'd, and all arose to pray.

Were it by forceful defliny decreed,
Or did from chance, or nature's power proceed;
Or that some star, with aspect kind to love,
Shed its felected influence from above;
Whatever was the cause, the tender dame
Felt the first motions of an infant flame;
Receiv'd th' impreflions of the love-fick Squire,
And wafted in the foft infectious fire.

Ye fair, draw near, let May's example move
Your gentle minds to pity thofe who love!
Had fome fierce tyrant in her ftead been found,
The poor adorer sure had hang'd, or drown'd:
But fhe, your fex's mirror, free from pride,
Was much too meek to prove a homicide.

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But to my tale: Some fages have defin'd Pleasure the fovereign blifs of human kind : Our knight (who ftudy'd much, we may suppose) Deriv'd his high philofophy from those : For, like a prince, he bore the vaft expence Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence: His house was stately, his retinue gay; Large was his train, and gorgeous his array. His fpacious garden, made to yield to none, Was compafs'd round with walls of folid stone; Priapus could not half defçribe the grace (Though god of gardens) of this charming place: A place to tire the rumbling wits of France In long defcriptions, and exceed romance; Enough to fhame the gentleft bard that fings Of painted meadows, and of purling fprings.

Full in the centre of the flowery ground, A crystal fountain spread its ftreams around, The fruitful banks with verdant laurels crown'd: About this fpring (if ancient fame say true) The dapper elves their moon-light sports pursue: Their pigmy king, and little fairy queen, In circling dances gambol'd on the green, While tuneful fprites a merry concert made, And airy mufic warbled through the fhade.

Hither the noble knight would oft repair,
(His fcene of pleasure, and peculiar care)
For this he held it dear, and always bore
The filver key that lock'd the garden-door.
To this fweet place, in fummer's fultry heat,
He us'd from noife and business to retreat;
And here in dalliance spend the live-long day,
"Solus cum fola," with his fprightly May:
For whate'er work was undischarg'd a-bed,
The duteous knight in this fair garden fped.

But, ah! what mortal lives of blifs fecure?
How fhert a fpace our worldly joys endure!
O Fortune, fair, like all thy treacherous kind,
But faithlefs fill, and wavering as the wind!
O painted monfter, form'd mankind to cheat
With pleafing poifon, and with foft deceit !
This rich, this amorous venerable knight,
Amidst his ease, his folace and delight,
Struck blind by thee, refigns his days to grief,
And calls on death, the wretch's last relief.

The rage of jealousy then feiz'd his mind,
For much he fear'd the faith of woman-kind.
His wife, not fuffer'd from his fide to ftray,
Was captive kept, he watch'd her night and day,
Abridg'd her pleasures, and confin'd her fway.
Full oft in tears did haplefs May complain,
And figh'd full oft; but figh'd and wept in vain :
She look'd on Damian with a lover's eye;
For, oh, 'twas fix'd, the muft poffefs or die!
Nor lefs impatience vex'd her amorous Squire,
Wild with delay, and burning with defire.
Watch'd as the was, yet could he not refrain
By fecret writing to disclose his pain:
The dame by figns reveal'd her kind intent,
Till both were confcious what each other meant.

Ah, gentle knight, what could thy eyes avail, Though they could fee as far as fhips can fail? 'Tis better, fure, when blind, deceiv'd to be, Than be deluded when a man can fee!

Argus himself, fo cautious and fo wife, Was over-watch'd, for all his hundred eyes; So many an honest husband may, 'tis known, Who, wifely, never thinks the cafe his own.

The dame at laft, by diligence and care, Procur'd the key her knight was wont to bear; She took the wards in wax before the fire, And gave th' impreffion to the trusty Squire. By means of this, fome wonder fhall appear, Which, in due place and feason, you may hear. Well fung fweet Ovid, in the days of yore, What flight is that, which love will not explore? And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly show The feats true lovers, when they lift, can do: Though watch'd and captive, yet in spite of all, They found the art of kiffing through a wall.

But now no longer from our tale to stray; It happ'd, that once upon a fummer's day, Ourreverend knight was urg'd to amorous play; He rais'd his fpoufe ere Matin bell was rung, And thus his morning canticle he fung.

Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes; Arife, my wife, my beauteous lady, rife! Hear how the doves with penfive notes complain,

The winter's paft; the clouds and tempefts Ay;
The fun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky.
Fair without spot, whofe every charming part
My bofom wounds, and captivates my heart;
Come, and in mutual pleasure let's engage,
Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.

This heard, to Damian straight a sign she made,
To hafte before; the gentle Squire obey'd:
Secret, and undefcry'd, he took his way,
And ambush'd close behind an arbour lay.

It was not long ere January came,
And hand in hand with him his lovely dame;
Blind as he was, not doubting all was fure,
He turn'd the key, and made the gate fecure.

Here let us walk, he faid, obferv'd by none,
Confcious of pleasures to the world unknown:
So may my foul have joy, as thou, my wife,
Art far the deareft folace of my life;
And rather would I choofe, by Heaven above,
To die this inftant, than to lofe thy love.
Reflect what truth was in my paffion shown,
When unendow'd I took thee for my own,
And fought no treasure but thy heart alone.
Old as I am, and now depriv'd of fight,
Whilft thou art faithful to thy own true knight,
Nor age nor blindness rob me of delight.
Each other lofs with patience I can bear,
The lofs of thee is what I only fear.

Confider then, my lady, and my wife,
The folid comforts of a virtuous life.
As, first, the love of Christ himself you gain;
Next, your own honour undefil'd maintain;
And lastly, that which fure your mind must move,'
My whole eftate fhall gratify your love:
Make your own terms, and e'er to-morrow's fun
Difplays his light, by Heaven, it shall be done.
I feal the contract with a holy kifs,

And will perform, by this-my dear, and this-
Have comfort, fpouse, nor think thy Lord unkind;
'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind.
For when thy charms my fober thoughts engage,
And join'd to them my own unequal age,
From thy dear fide I have no power to part,
Such fecret tranfports warm my melting heart.
For who, that once poffefs'd thofe heavenly charms,
Could live one moment abfent from thy arms?

He ceas'd, and May with modeft grace reply'd (Weak was her voice, as while the fpoke the cry'd):

Heaven knows (with that a tender figh she drew)
I have a foul to fave as well as you;
And, what no lefs you to my charge commend,
My dearest honour, will to death defend.
To you in holy church I gave my hand,
And join'd my heart in wedlock's facred band:
Yet, after this, if you diftruft my care,
Then hear, my lord, and witness what I swear.
First, may the yawning earth her bofom rend,
And let me hence to hell alive defcend;
Or die the death I dread no lefs than hell,
Sew'd in a fack, and plung'd into a well;
Ere I my fame by one lewd act difgrace,
Or once renounce the honour of my race:
For know, Sir Knight, of gentle blood I came;

But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,
And learn from hence their ladies to suspect :
Elfe why these needlefs cautions, Sir, to me?
Thefe doubts and fears of female conftancy!
This chime ftill rings in every lady's ear,
The only train a wife must hope to hear.

Thus while the spoke, a fidelong glance the caft,
Where Damian, kneeling, worshipp'd as the past.
She faw him watch the motions of her eye,
And fingled out a pear-tree planted nigh:

'Twas charg'd with fruit that made a goodly fhow,

And hung with dangling pears was every bough,
Thither th' obfequicus Squire addrefs'd his pace,
And, climbing, in the fummit took his place;
The knight and lady walk'd beneath in view,
Where let us leave them, and our tale purfue.

}

'Twas now the feafon when the glorious fun
His heavenly progress through the twins had run;
And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,
To glad the glebe, and paint the flowery fields.
Clear was the day, and Phabus, rifing bright,
Had freak'd the azure firmament with light;
He pierc'd the glittering clouds with golden ftreams,
And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beams.
It fo befel, in that fair morning-tide,
The fairies fported on the garden fide,
And in the midft their monarch and his bride.
So featly tripp'd the light-foot ladies round,
The knights fo nimbly o'er the greenfword (
bound,
[ground.
That scarce they bent the flowers, or touch'd the ̧
The dances ended, all the fairy train
For pinks and daifies fearch'd the flowery plain;
While, on a bank reclin'd of rifing green,
Thus, with a frown, the king bespoke his queen.
'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,
The treachery you women ufe to man:
A thoufand authors have this truth made out,
And fad experience leaves no room for doubt.
Heaven reft thy fpirit, noble Solomon,

A wifer monarch never faw the fun;
All wealth, all honours, the fupreme degree
Of earthly blifs, was well beftow'd on thee!
For fagely haft thou said : Of all mankind,
One only just and righteous hope to find:
But fhouldst thou fearch the fpacious world around,
Yet one good woman is not to be found.

Thus fays the king, who knew your wickedness:
The fon of Sirach teftifies no less.
So may fome wildfire on your bodies fall,
Or fonie devouring plague consume you all.
As well you view the lecher in the tree,
And well this honourable knight you fee:
But fince he's blind and old (a helpless cafe),
His Squire fhall cuckold him before your face.
Now, by my own dread majesty I fwear,
And by this awful fceptre which I bear,
No impious wretch fhall 'fcape unpunish'd long,
That in my prefence offers fuch a wrong.
I will this inftant undeceive the knight,
And in the very act restore his fight;
And let the ftrumpet here in open view,
A warning to thefe ladies, and to you,
And all the faithlefs fex, for ever to be true.

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And will you fo, reply'd the queen, indeed? Now, by my mother's foul it is decreed, She fhall not want an answer at her need. For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage, And all the fex in each fucceeding age! Art fhall be theirs, to varnish an offence, And fortify their crime with confidence. Nay, were they taken in a ftrict embrace, Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd on the place; All they fhall need is to protest and swear, Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear; Till their wife husbands, gull'd by arts like these, Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geefe.

What though this flanderous Jew, this Solomon, Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one; The wifer wits of later times declare,

How conftant, chaste, and virtuous, women are ;
Witness the martyrs, who refign'd their breath,
Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death;
And witnefs next what Roman authors tell,
How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia feli.

But, fince the facred leaves to all are free, And men interpret texts, why should not we? By this no more was meant, than to have shown," That fovereign goodnels dwells in him alone Who only is, and is but only One.

But grant the worft; fhall women then be weigh'd
By every word, that Solomon has faid?
What though this king (as ancient story boasts)
Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hofts;
He ceas'd at laft his Maker to adore,
And did as much for idol gods, or more.
Beware what lavish praises you confer
On a rank lecher and idolater;
Whofe reign, indulgent God, fays holy writ,
Did but for David's righteous fake permit;
David, the monarch after heaven's own mind,
Who lov'd our sex, and honour'd all our kind.

Well, I'm a woman, and as fuch must speak;
Silence would fwell me, and my heart would break,
Know then, fcorn your dull authorities,
Your idle wits, and all their learned lies.
By heaven, thofe authors are our fex's foes,
Whom, in our right, I must and will oppofe.
Nay (quoth the king) dear madam, be not
wroth:

I yield it up; but fince I gave my oath,
That this much-injur'd knight again should see,
It must be done--I am a king, faid he,
And one, whofe faith has ever facred been.

And fo has mine (fhe faid)-I am a queen
Her anfwer the hall have, I undertake;
And thus an end of all dispute I make.
Try when you lift; and you shall find, my lord,
It is not in our fex to break our word.

We leave them here in this heroic strain, And to the knight our story turns again; Who in the garden, with his lovely May, Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay: This was his fong; "Oh kind and constant be, "Conftant and kind I'll ever prove to thee."

Thus finging as he went, at lait he drew By eafy steps, to where the pear-tree grew: The longing dame look'd up, and spy'd her love. Full fairly perch'd among the boughs.above.

Hither the noble knight would oft repair,
(His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care)
For this he held it dear, and always bore
The filver key that lock'd the garden-door.
To this fweet place, in fummer's fultry heat,
He us'd from noife and business to retreat;
And here in dalliance spend the live-long day,
"Solus cum fola," with his fprightly May:
For whate'er work was undifcharg'd a-bed,
The duteous knight in this fair garden fped.

But, ah! what mortal lives of blifs fecure?
How short a space our worldly joys endure!
O Fortune, fair, like all thy treacherous kind,
But faithlefs ftill, and wavering as the wind!
O painted monfter, form'd mankind to cheat
With pleafing poifon, and with foft deceit !
This rich, this amorous venerable knight,
Amidst his eafe, his folace and delight,
Struck blind by thee, refigns his days to grief,
And calls on death, the wretch's laft relief.

The rage of jealousy then feiz'd his mind,
For much he fear'd the faith of woman-kind.
His wife, not fuffer'd from his fide to ftray,
Was captive kept, he watch'd her night and day,
Abridg'd her pleasures, and confin'd her fway.
Full oft in tears did haplefs May complain,
And figh'd full oft; but figh'd and wept in vain :
She look'd on Damian with a lover's eye;
For, oh, 'twas fix'd, the muft poffefs or die!
Nor lefs impatience vex'd her amorous Squire,
Wild with delay, and burning with defire.
Watch'd as the was, yet could he not refrain
By fecret writing to difclofe his pain:
The dame by figns reveal'd her kind intent,
Till both were confcious what each other meant.

Ah, gentle knight, what could thy eyes avail, Though they could fee as far as fhips can fail? 'I'is better, fure, when blind, deceiv'd to be, Than be deluded when a man can see!

Argus himself, fo cautious and fo wife, Was over-watch'd, for all his hundred eyes ; So many an honeft husband may, 'tis known, Who, wifely, never thinks the cafe his own.

The dame at laft, by diligence and care, Procur'd the key her knight was wont to bear; She took the wards in wax before the fire, And gave th' impreffion to the trufty Squire. By means of this, fome wonder shall appear, Which, in due place and season, you may hear.

Well fung fweet Ovid, in the days of yore, What flight is that, which love will not explore? And Pyramus and Thisbe plainly show The feats true lovers, when they lift, can do: Though watch'd and captive, yet in spite of all, They found the art of kiffing through a wall.

But now no longer from our tale to stray; It happ'd, that once upon a fummer's day, Ourreverend knight was urg'd to amorous play; He rais'd his fpoufe ere Matin bell was rung, And thus his morning canticle he fung.

Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant eyes; Arife, my wife, my beauteous lady, rife! Hear how the doves with pentive notes complain,

The winter's paft; the clouds and tempefts Ay;
The fun adorns the fields, and brightens all the sky.
Fair without fpot, whofe every charming part
My bofom wounds, and captivates my heart;
Come, and in mutual pleasure let's engage,
Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.

This heard, to Damian straight a sign she made,
To hafte before; the gentle Squire obey'd:
Secret, and undefcry'd, he took his way,
And ambush'd clofe behind an arbour lay.

It was not long ere January came,
And hand in hand with him his lovely dame;
Blind as he was, not doubting all was fure,
He turn'd the key, and made the gate fecure.

Here let us walk, he faid, obferv'd by none,
Conscious of pleasures to the world unknown:
So may my foul have joy, as thou, my wife,
Art far the dearest folace of my life;
And rather would I choose, by Heaven above,
To die this inftant, than to lose thy love.
Reflect what truth was in my paffion shown,
When unendow'd I took thee for my own,
And fought no treasure but thy heart alone.
Old as I am, and now depriv'd of fight,
Whilft thou art faithful to thy own true knight,
Nor age nor blindness rob me of delight.
Each other lofs with patience I can bear,
The lofs of thee is what I only fear.

Confider then, my lady, and my wife,
The folid comforts of a virtuous life.
As, first, the love of Chrift himself you gain;
Next, your own honour undefil'd maintain;
And lastly, that which fure your mind must move,
My whole eftate fhall gratify your love :
Make your own terms, and e'er to-morrow's fun
Difplays his light, by Heaven, it shall be done.
I feal the contract with a holy kiss,

And will perform, by this-my dear, and this-
Have comfort, spouse, nor think thy Lord unkind;
'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind.
For when thy charms my fober thoughts engage,
And join'd to them my own unequal age,
From thy dear fide I have no power to part,
Such fecret tranfports warm my melting heart.
For who, that once poffefs'd thofe heavenly charms,
Could live one moment abfent from thy arms?

He ceas'd, and May with modeft grace reply'd (Weak was her voice, as while she spoke she cry'd):

Heaven knows (with that a tender figh fhe drew)
I have a foul to fave as well as you;
And, what no lefs you to my charge commend,
My dearest honour, will to death defend.
To you in holy church I gave my hand,
And join'd my heart in wedlock's facred band:
Yet, after this, if you diftruft my care,
Then hear, my lord, and witness what I swear.
First, may the yawning earth her bofom rend,
And let me hence to hell alive defcend;
Or die the death I dread no less than hell,
Sew'd in a fack, and plung'd into a well;
Ere I my fame by one lewd act difgrace,
Or once renounce the honour of my race:
For know, Sir Knight, of gentle blood I came;

But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,
And learn from hence their ladies to fufpect:
Elfe why these needlefs cautions, Sir, to me?
Thefe doubts and fears of female conftancy!
This chime ftill rings in every lady's ear,
The only train a wife muft hope to hear.

Thus while the fpoke, a fidelong glance fhe caft, Where Damian, kneeling, worshipp'd as she past. She faw him watch the motions of her eye, And fingled out a pear-tree planted nigh: 'Twas charg'd with fruit that made a goodly show,

And hung with dangling pears was every bough,
Thither th' obfequious Squire addrefs'd his pace,
And, climbing, in the summit took his place;
The knight and lady walk'd beneath in view,
Where let us leave them, and our tale purfus.

'Twas now the feason when the glorious fun
His heavenly progress through the twins had run;
And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,
To glad the glebe, and paint the flowery fields.
Clear was the day, and Phoebus, rifing bright,
Had freak'd the azure firmament with light;
He pierc'd the glittering clouds with golden ftreams,
And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beams.
It fo befel, in that fair morning-tide,
The fairies fported on the garden fide,
And in the midft their monarch and his bride.
So featly tripp'd the light-foot ladies round,
The knights fo nimbly o'er the greenfword (
bound,
(ground.

That fearce they bent the flowers, or touch'd the ̧
The dances ended, all the fairy train
For pinks and daifies fearch'd the flowery plain;
While, on a bank reclin'd of rifing green,
Thus, with a frown, the king bespoke his queen.
'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,
The treachery you women ufe to man :
A thousand authors have this truth made out,
And fad experience leaves no room for doubt.
Heaven reft thy fpirit, noble Solomon,

A wifer monarch never faw the fun;
All wealth, all honours, the fupreme degree
Of earthly blifs, was well beftow'd on thee!
For fagely baft thou said: Of all mankind,
One only just and righteous hope to find:
But fhouldst thou fearch the fpacious world around,
Yet one good woman is not to be found.

Thus fays the king, who knew your wickedness:
The fon of Sirach testifies no leís.
So may fome wildfire on your bodies fall,
Or fonie devouring plague confume you all.
As well you view the lecher in the tree,
And well this honourable knight you fee:
But fince he's blind and old (a helpless cafe),
His Squire fhall cuckold him before your face.
Now, by my own dread majesty I swear,
And by this awful fceptre which I bear,
No impious wretch fhall 'fcape unpunish'd long,
That in my presence offers fuch a wrong.
I will this inftant undeceive the knight,
And in the very act restore his fight;
And fet the ftrumpet here in open view,
A warning to thefe ladies, and to you,
And all the faithlefs fex, for ever to be true.

And will you fo, reply'd the queen, indeed? Now, by my mother's foul it is decreed, She fhall not want an answer at her need. For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage, And all the fex in each fucceeding age! Art fhall be theirs, to varnish an offence, And fortify their crime with confidence. Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace, Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd on the place; All they fhall need is to proteft and swear, Breathe a foft figh, and drop a tender tear; Till their wife hufbands, gull'd by arts like these, Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geefe.

What though this flanderous Jew, this Solomon, Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one; The wifer wits of later times declare,

How conftant, chafte, and virtuous, women are:
Witness the martyrs, who refign'd their breath,
Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death;
And witness next what Roman authors tell,
How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia feli.

But, fince the facred leaves to all are free,
And men interpret texts, why should not we?
By this no more was meant, than to have shown,
That fovereign goodness dwells in him alone
Who only is, and is but only One.

But grant the worft; fhall women then be weigh'd
By every word, that Solomon has faid?
What though this king (as ancient story boasts)
Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hofts;
He ceas'd at laft his Maker to adore,
And did as much for idol gods, or more.
Beware what lavish praises you confer
On a rank lecher and idolater;
Whofe reign, indulgent God, fays holy writ,
Did but for David's righteous fake permit;
David, the monarch after heaven's own mind,
Who lov'd our fex, and honour'd all our kind.

Well, I'm a woman, and as fuch must speak;
Silence would fwell me, and my heart would break,
Know then, fcorn your dull authorities,
Your idle wits, and all their learned lies.
By heaven, thofe authors are our fex's foes,
Whom, in our right, I must and will oppofe.
Nay (quoth the king) dear madam, be not
wroth:

I yield it up; but fince I gave my oath,
That this much-injur'd knight again should see,
It must be done-I am a king, faid he,
And one, whofe faith has ever facred been.

And fo has mine (fhe faid)-I am a queen;
Her anfwer the hall have, I undertake;
And thus an end of all difpute I make.
Try when you lift; and you shall find, my lord,
It is not in our fex to break our word.

We leave them here in this heroic strain, And to the knight our ftory turns again; Who in the garden, with his lovely May, Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay: This was his fong; "Oh kind and constant be "Constant and kind I'll ever prove to thee."

Thus finging as he went, at lait he drew By eafy steps, to where the pear-tree grew: The longing dame look'd up, and spy'd her love. Full fairly perch'd among the boughs.above.

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