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While Scot," and Wake,” and twenty more, That teach one to deny oneself, Stood unmolested on the shelf. An untouch'd Bible grac'd her toilet: No fear that thumb of hers should spoil it. In short, the trade was still the same: The dame went out, the colonel came. What’s to be done? Poor Carvel cried: Another battery must be tried: What if to spells I had recourse? 'Tis but to hinder something worse. The end must justify the means: He only sins who ill intends: Since therefore 'tis to combat evil, 'Tis lawful to employ the devil. Forthwith the devil did appear (For name him, and he's always near), Not in the shape in which he plies At miss's elbow when she lies; Or stands before the nursery doors, To take the naughty boy that roars: But, without saucer-eye or claw, Like a grave barrister at law. Hans Carvel, lay aside your grief, The devil says; I bring relief. Relief, says Hans: pray let me crave
1 Dr. John Scot, rector of St. Giles in the Fields, and author of the Christian Life, in 5 vols.
2 Dr. William Wake, afterwards archbishop of Canterbury.
Your name, Sir-Satan—Sir, your slave;
I did not look upon your feet:
You'll pardon me: Ay, now I see’t:
And pray, Sir, when came you from hell?
Our friends there, did you leave them well?
All well; but pr’ythee, honest Hans,
(Says Satan) leave your complaisance:
The truth is this: I cannot stay
Flaring in sunshine all the day:
For, entre nous, we hellish sprites
Love more the fresco of the nights;
And oftener our receipts convey
In dreams, than any other way.
I tell you therefore as a friend,
Ere morning dawns, your fears shall end:
Go then this evening, master Carvel,
Lay down your fowls, and broach your barrel;
Let friends and wine dissolve your care;
Whilst I the great receipt prepare:—
To-night I'll bring it, by my faith;
Believe for once what Satan saith.
Away went Hans: glad? not a little;
Obey'd the devil to a tittle;
Invited friends some half a dozen,
The colonel and my lady's cousin.
The meat was serv’d; the bowls were crown'd;
Catches were sung; and healths went round;
Barbadoes waters for the close;
Till Hans had fairly got his dose:
The colonel toasted to the best:
The Dame mov’d off, to be undrest:
The chimes went twelve: the guests withdrew:
But when, or how, IIans hardly knew.
Some modern anecdotes aver,
He nodded in his elbow chair;
From thence was carried off to bed:
John held his heels, and Nan his head.
My lady was disturb’d: new sorrow!
Which Hans must answer for to-morrow.
In bed then view this happy pair;
And think how IIymen triumph'd there.
Hans fast asleep as soon as laid,
The duty of the night unpaid:
The waking dame, with thoughts opprest,
That made her hate both him and rest;
By such a husband, such a wife
‘Twas Acme's and Septimius' life:
The lady sigh’d: the lover snor'd:
The punctual devil kept his word:
Appear'd to honest IIans again;
But not at all by madam seen:
And giving him a magic ring,
Fit for the finger of a king;
Dear Hans, said he, this jewel take,
And wear it long for Satan's sake:
'Twill do your business to a hair:
For, long as you this ring shall wear,
As sure as I look over Lincoln,
That ne'er shall happen which you think on.
Hans took the ring with joy extreme;
(All this was only in a dream)
And, thrusting it beyond his joint,
'Tis done, he cried : Iv'e gain'd my point.—
What point, said she, you ugly beast?
You neither give me joy nor rest:
'Tis done.—What's done, you drunken bear?
You've thrust your finger G-d knows where.
FIRE, water, woman, are man’s ruin:
Says wise professor Vander Brüin.
By flames a house I hir’d was lost
Last year, and I must pay the cost.
This spring the rains o'erflow'd my ground:
And my best Flanders mare was drown'd.
A slave I am to Clara's eyes:
The gipsy knows her power, and flies.
Fire, water, woman, are my ruin:
And great thy wisdom, Vander Brüin.
PAULO PURGANTI AND HIS WIFE :
AN HONEST, BUT A SIMPLE PAIR.
Est enim quiddam, iddue intelligitur in omni virtute. quod deceat: quod cogitatione magis a virtute potest quam re separari. Cic. de Off. L. 2.
BEYOND the fix’d and settled rules
Of vice and virtue in the schools,
Beyond the letter of the law,
Which keeps our men and maids in awe,
The better sort should set before 'em
A grace, a manner, a decorum ;
Something, that gives their acts a light;
Makes 'em not only just, but bright;
And sets them in that open fame,
Which witty malice cannot blame.
For ’tis in life, as 'tis in painting:
Much may be right, yet much be wanting;
From lines drawn true, our eye may trace
A foot, a knee, a hand, a face: w
May justly own the picture wrought
Exact to rule, exempt from fault:
Yet, if the colouring be not there,
The Titian stroke, the Guido air;
To nicest judgment show the piece;
At best 'twill only not displease: