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PADLOCK.

MISS Danaë, when fair and young,

(As Horace has divinely fung)

Could not be kept from Jove's embrace
By doors of fteel, and walls of brafs.
The reason of the thing is clear,
Would Jove the naked truth aver.
Cupid was with him of the party;
And thew'd himself fincere and hearty;
For, give that whipfter but his errand,
He takes my lord chief justice' warrant;
Dauntless as death away he walks;
Breaks the doors open, snaps the locks;
Searches the parlour, chamber, ftudy;
Nor ftops till he has culprit's body.
Since this has been authentic truth,
By age deliver'd down to youth;
Tell us, mistaken husband, tell us,
Why fo myfterious, why fo jealous?
Does the reftraint, the bolt, the bar,
Make us lefs curious, her lefs fair?

The fpy, which does this treasure keep,
Does the ne'er fay her prayers, nor fleep?
Does the to no excefs incline?

Does the fly mufic, mirth, and wine?
Or have not gold and flattery power
To purchase one unguarded hour?

Your

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Your care does further yet extend:
That fpy is guarded by your friend.-
But has this friend nor eye nor heart?
May he not feel the cruel dart,
Which, foon or late, all mortals feel?
May he not, with too tender zeal,
Give the fair prifoner caufe to fee,
How much he wishes fhe were free?
May he not craftily infer

The rules of friendship too fevere,
Which chain him to a hated truft;
Which make him wretched, to be just?
And may not she, this darling fhe,
Youthful and healthy, flesh and blood,
Eafy with him, ill us'd by thee,
Allow this logic to be good?
Sir, will your questions never end ?
I truft to neither spy nor friend.
In short, I keep her from the fight
Of every human face.-She 'll write.
From pen and paper fhe's debarr'd.--
Has fhe a bodkin and a card?

She'll prick her mind. She will, you fay:
But how fhall fhe that mind convey?
I keep her in one room: I lock it :
The key (look here) is in this pocket.
The key-hole, is that left? Moft certain,
She'll thruft her letter through--Sir Martin.
Dear angry friend, what must be done?

Is there no way -There is but one.

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Send her abroad: and let her fee,

That all this mingled mass, which fhe,
Being forbidden, longs to know,
Is a dull farce, an empty fhow,
Powder, and pocket-glafs, and beau ;
A ftaple of romance and lies,

Falfe tears and real perjuries :

Where fighs and looks are bought and fold;
And love is made but to be told :

Where the fat bawd and lavish heir

The fpoils of ruin'd beauty fhare;
And youth, feduc'd from friends and fame,
Must give up age to want and fhame.
Let her behold the frantic scene,
The women wretched, falfe the men:
And when, these certain ills to fhun,
She would to thy embraces run;
Receive her with extended arms,
Seem more delighted with her charms;
Wait on her to the park and play,
Put on good-humour; make her gay;
Be to her virtues very kind;
Be to her faults a little blind;
Let all her ways be unconfin'd;
And clap your padlock-on her mind.

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HANS

HANS.

H

CARVE L.

ANS CARVEL, impotent and old,

Married a lafs of London mould Handfome? enough; extremely gay : Lov'd mufic, company, and play : High flights fhe had, and wit at will; And fo her tongue lay feldom ftill: For in all vifits who but fhe,

To argue, or to repartée ?

She made it plain, that human paffion Was order'd by predestination;

That, if weak women went aftray,

Their ftars were more in fault than they:

Whole tragedies she had by heart;

Enter'd into Roxana's part:

To triumph in her rival's blood,

The action certainly was good.

How like a vine young Ammon curl❜d !
Oh that dear conqueror of the world!
She pitied Betterton in age,

That ridicul'd the god-like rage.

She, first of all the town, was told,
Where newest India things were fold:
So in a morning, without bodice,
Slipt fometimes out to Mrs. Thody's;
To cheapen tea, to buy a fcreen:
What elfe could fo much virtue mean?

For,

For, to prevent the leaft reproach,
Betty went with her in the coach.

But, when no very great affair
Excited her peculiar care,
She without fail was wak'd at ten;
Drank chocolate, then flept again :
At twelve fhe rofe; with much ado
Her cloaths were huddled on by two;
Then, does my Lady dine at home?
Yes, fure!-But is the Colonel come?
Next, how to spend the afternoon,
And not come home again too foon;
The Change, the City, or the Play,

As each was proper for the day :
A turn in fummer to Hyde-Park,
When it grew tolerably dark.

Wife's pleasure caufes husband's pain:
Strange fancies come in Hans's brain :
He thought of what he did not name;
And would reform, but durft not blame.
At first he therefore preach'd his wife
The comforts of a pious life :
Told her, how tranfient beauty was;
That all muft die, and flesh was grass :

He bought her fermons, pfalms, and graces ;
And doubled down the useful places.

But ftill the weight of worldly care
Allow'd her little time for prayer:

And Cleopatra was read o'er;

While Scot, and Wake, and twenty more,

That

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