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 unconfined;
And clap your padlock-on her mind.

HANS CARVEL.

HANS CARVEL, impotent and old,
Married a lass of London mould:
Handsome enough, extremely gay;
Loved music, company, and play.
High flights she had, and wit at will;
And so her tongue lay seldom still;
For in all visits who but she,

To argue, or to repartee?

She made it plain, that human passion Was ordered by predestination;

That if weak women went astray,

Their stars were more in fault than they;
Whole tragedies she had by heart;

Entered into Roxana's part:

To triumph in her rival's blood,
The action certainly was good.

How like a vine young Ammon curled!
Oh that dear conqueror of the world!
She pitied Betterton in age,
That ridiculed the god-like rage.

She, first of all the town, was told,
Where newest India things were sold,
So in a morning, without boddice,
Slipt sometimes out to Mrs Thody's;

To cheapen tea, to buy a screen;
What else could so much virtue mean?
For to prevent the least reproach,
Betty went with her in the coach.

But when no very great affair
Excited her peculiar care,
She without fail was waked at ten;
Drank chocolate, then slept again.
At twelve she rose; with much ado
Her clothes were huddled on by two;
Then, does my lady dine at home?
Yes, sure; but is the Colonel come!
Next, how to spend the afternoon,
And not come home again too soon;
The 'Change, the City, or the Play,
As each was proper for the day;
A turn in summer to Hyde Park,
When it grew tolerably dark.

Wife's pleasure causes husband's pain:
Strange fancies come in Hans's brain:
He thought of what he did not name;
And would reform, but durst not blame.
At first he therefore preached his wife
The comforts of a pious life;

Told her how transient beauty was;
That all must die, and flesh was grass:

He bought her sermons, psalms, and graces;

And doubled down the useful places.
But still the weight of worldly care
Allowed her little time for prayer:
And Cleopatra1 was read o'er,

While Scot, and Wake,3 and twenty more,

1 Cleopatra, a novel much read by ladies in the last century.- Dr John Scot, Rector of St Giles in the Fields, and author of the Christian Life, in 5 vols. A writer of great power and eloquence.-3 Dr William Wake, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.

That teach one to deny oneself,

Stood unmolested on the shelf.

An untouched Bible graced 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

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
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;
Obeyed the devil to a tittle;

Invited friends some half a dozen,

The colonel and my lady's cousin.

barrel;

91

100

The meat was served, the bowls were crowned, 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 moved off to be undressed;

110

The chimes went twelve; the guests withdrew:

But when, or how, Hans 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 disturbed, new sorrow!
Which Hans must answer for to-morrow.

In bed then view this happy pair;
And think how Hymen triumphed there.
Hans fast asleep as soon as laid,

The duty of the night unpaid;

120

The waking dame, with thoughts oppressed, 125
That made her hate both him and rest;
By such a husband, such a wife!
"Twas Acme's and Septimius' life:
The lady sighed: the lover snored:
The punctual devil kept his word;
Appeared to honest Hans 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,

130

That ne'er shall happen which you think on. 140 Hans took the ring with joy extreme;

(All this was only in a dream)

And, thrusting it beyond his joint,

"Tis done, he cried, I've gained 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!

A DUTCH PROVERB.

FIRE, water, woman, are man's ruin:
Says wise professor Vander Brüin.
By flames a house I hired was lost
Last year, and I must pay the cost.
This spring the rains o'erflowed my ground;
And my best Flanders mare was drowned.