My thoughts shall fix, my latest wish depend
On thee, guide, guardian, kinfman, father, friend:
By all thefe facred names be Henry known
To Emma's heart; and, grateful, let him own
That the, of all mankind, could love but him alone.
HEN. Vainly thou tell'ft me what the woman's care
Shall in the wildness of the wood prepare:
Thou, ere thou goest, unhappiest of thy kind,
Must leave the habit and the fex behind.
No longer fhall thy comely treffes break
In flowing ringlets on thy fnowy neck,
Or fit behind thy head, an ample round,
In graceful breeds, with various riband bound;
No longer fhall the bodice, aptly lac'd
From thy full bofom to thy flender waist,
That air and harmony of shape exprefs,
Fine by degrees, and beautifully lefs;
Nor fhall thy lower garments artful plait,
From thy fair fide dependent to thy feet,
Arm their chafte beauties with a modest pride,
And double ev'ry charm they seek to hide.
Th' ambrofial plenty of thy fhining hair
Cropt off and loft, fcarce lower than thy ear
Shall ftand uncouth; a horfeman's coat fhall hide
Thy taper fhape and comeliness of fide;
The short trunk-hofe fhall fhow thy foot and knee
Licentious, and to common eyefight free;
And with a bolder ftride and loofer air,
Mingled with men, a man thou muft appear.
Nor folitude, nor gentle peace of mind,
Mistaken Maid, fhalt thou in forefts find:
'Tis long fince Cynthia and her train were there, 445
Or guardian gods made innocence their care:
Vagrants and outlaws fhall offend thy view,
For fuch must be my friends; a hideous crew,
By adverfe fortune mix'd in focial ill,
Train'd to affault, and difciplin'd to kill;
Their common loves a lewd abandon'd pack,
The beadle's lash still flagrant on their back
By floth corrupted, by diforder fed,
Aiade bold by want, and proftitute for bread:
With fuch muft Emma hunt the tedious day, 455
Affift their violence and divide their prey;
With such she must return at setting light,
Tho' not partaker, witnefs of their night.
Thy ear, inur'd to charitable founds
And pitying love, muft feel the hateful wounds 460
Of jeft obfcene and vulgar ribaldry,
The ill-bred queftion and the lewd reply;
Brought by long habitude from bad to worfe,
Must hear the frequent oath, the direful curfe,
That lateft weapon of the wretches' war,
And blafphemy, fad comrade of defpair.
Now, Emma, now the laft reflection make,
What thou wouldst follow, what thou muft forfake:
By our ill-omen'd stars and adverse heav'n
No middle object to thy choice is giv'n;
Or yield thy virtue to attain thy love,
Or leave a banifh'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove.
EMMA. O grief of heart! that our unhappy fates
Force thee to fuffer what thy honour hates;
Mix thee amongst the bad, or make thee run
Too near the path which Virtue bids thee fhun.
Yet with her Henry ftill let Emma go;
With him abhor the vice, but fhare the woe:
And fure my little heart can never err
Amidst the worst if Henry ftill be there.
Our outward act is prompted from within,
And from the finner's mind proceeds the fin:
By her own choice free Virtue is approv'd,
Nor by the force of outward objects mov'd.
Who has effay'd no danger gains no praife,
In a fmall ifle, amidst the wideft feas,
Triumphant Conftancy has fix'd her feat;
In vain the Syrens fing, the tempefts beat:
Their flatt'ry the rejects, nor fears their threat.
For thee alone thefe little charms I dreft,
Condemn'd them or abfolv'd them by thy teft:
In comely figure rang'd my jewels fhone,
Or negligently plac'd for thee alone:
For thee again they fhall be laid afide;
The woman, Henry, fhall put off her pride
For thee my clothes, my fex, exchang'd for thee,
I'll mingle with the people's wretched lee :
O line extreme of human infamy!
Wanting the fciffors, with thefe hands I'll tear
(If that obftru&ts my flight) this load of hair :
Black foot or yellow walnut fhall difgrace
This little red and white of Emma's face:
Thefe nails with fcratches fhall deform my breaft,
Left by my look or colour be expreft
The mark of ought high-born, or ever better dreft.
Yet in this commerce, under this disguise,
Let me be grateful ftill to Henry's eyes;
Loft to the world, let me to him be known;
My fate I can abfolve if he shall own
That, leaving all mankind, I love but him alone. 510
HEN. O wildeft thought of an abandon'd mind!
Name, habit, parents, woman, left behind,
Ev'n honour dubious, thou preferr'ft to go
Wild to the woods with me. Said Emma fo?
Or did I dream what Emma never said:
O guilty error! and O wretched Maid!
Whofe roving fancy would resolve the same
With him who next fhould tempt her eafy fame,
And blow with empty words the fufceptible flame.
Now why fhould doubtful terms thy mind perplex? 520
Confefs thy frailty and avow the fex:
No longer loofe defire for conftant love
[rove.
Miftake, but say, 'tis man with whom thou long'ft to
EMMA. Are there not poifons, racks, and flames, and
That Emma thus muft die by Henry's words; [fwords,
Yet what could fwords or poifon, racks, or flame,
But mangle and disjoint this brittle frame!
More fatal Henry's words, they murder Emma's fame.
And fall thefe fayings from that gentle tongue,
Where civil speech and foft persuasion hung?
Whofe artful fweetnefs and harmonious ftrain,
Courting my grace, yet courting it in vain,
Call'd fighs, and tears, and wishes, to its aid,
And, whilft it Henry's glowing flame convey'd,
Still blai'd the coldness of the Nut-brown maid? 535
Let envious Jealoufy and canker'd Spite
Produce my actions to fevereft light,
And tax my open day or fecret night.
Did e'er my tongue fpeak my unguarded heart
The leaft inclin'd to play the wanton's part?
Did e'er my eye one inward thought reveal,
Which angels might not hear and virgins tell !
And halt thou, Henry, in my conduct known
One fault but that which I must ever own,
That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee alone?
HEN. Vainly thou talk'it of loving me alone ;
Each man is man, and all our fex is one;
Falfe are our words, and fickle is our mind;
Nor in Love's ritual can we ever find
Vows made to laft, or promifes to bind.
By Nature prompted, and for empire made,
Alike by ftrength or cunning we invade :
When arm'd with rage we march against the foe,
We lift the battle-axe and draw the bow;
When fir'd with paffion we attack the fair,
Delufive fighs and brittle vows we bear;
Our falfehood and our arins have equal ufe,
As they our conqueft or delight produce.
The foolish heart thou gav'ft again receive, The only boon departing Love can give. To be lefs wretched be no longer true : What ftrives to fly thee why fhouldst thou purfue? Forget the prefent flame, indulge a new: Single the lovelieft of the am'rous youth; Afk for his vow, but hope not for his truth. The next man (and the next thou shalt believe) Will pawn his gods intending to deceive; Will kneel, implore, perfift, o'ercome, and leave. Hence let thy Cupid aim his arrows right: Be wife and falfe, fhun trouble, feek delight; Change thou the firft, nor wait thy lover's flight. Why shouldst thou weep? let Nature judge our cafe; I faw thee young and fair; purfu'd the chafe Of youth and beauty : I another faw Fairer and younger; yielding to the law
Of our all-ruling mother, I purfu'd
More youth, more beauty. Bleft viciffitude!
My active heart ftill keeps its pristine flame,}
The object alter'd, the defire the fame.
This younger, fairer, pleads her rightful charms,
With prefent pow'r compels me to her arms;
And much I fear from my subjected mind,
(If beauty's force to conftant love can bind)
That years may roll ere in her turn the maid
Shall weep the fury of my love decay'd,
And weeping follow me, as thou dost now,
With idle clamours of a broken vow.
Nor can the wildnefs of thy wishes err,
So wide to hope that thou may't live with her :
Love, well thou know'st, no partnership allows ;
Cupid averfe, rejects divided vows:
Then from thy foolish heart, vain maid, remove
An ufelefs forrow and an ill-ftarr'd love,
And leave me, with the fair, at large in woods to rove.
EMMA. Are we in life thro' one great erro led? 195
Is each man perjur'd, and each nymph betray'd?
Of the fuperior fex art thou the worst?
Am I of mine the most completely curft?
Yet let me go with thee, and going prove,
From what I will endure, how much I love.
This potent beauty, this triumphant fair,
This happy object of our diff'rent care,
Her let me follow; her let me attend,
A fervant (the may fcorn the name of friend)
What the demands inceffant I'll
prepare;
I'll wave her garlands, and I'll plait her hair;
My bufy diligence fhall deck her board,
(For there at least I may approach my lord)
And when her Henry's fofter hours advise
His fervant's abfence, with dejected eyes
Far I'll recede, and fighs forbid to rife.
Yet, when increafing grief brings flow disease, And ebbing life, on terms fevere as thefe,
Will have its little lamp no longer fed;
When Henry's miftrefs fhews him Emma dead, 615
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