Fled back the very way he came,
And in the bush foon found his game;
Brought in his mouth the favoury load,
And at his mafter's elbow ftood.
O Lobb, what idioms can exprefs
Thy ftrange confufion and diftress,
When on the floor the drawers display'd
The fulfome fecret had bewray'd?
No traitor, when his hand and feal
Produc'd his dark designs reveal,
E'er look'd with fuch a hanging face,
As Lobb half-dead at this difgrace.
Wild-ftaring, thunder-ftruck, and dumb,
While peals of laughter shake the room;
Each fash thrown up to let in air,
The knight fell backward in his chair,
Laugh'd till his heart-strings almost break,
The chaplain giggled for a week;
Her ladyfhip began to call,
For hartfhorn, and her Abigail';
The fervants chuckled at the door,
And all was clamour and uproar.
Rover, who now began to quake,
As confcious of his foul mistake,
Trufts to his heels to fave his life;
The squire sneaks home, and beats his wife,
THE INQUISITIVE BRIDEGROOM:
RANK PLUME, a fpark about the town,
Now weary of intriguing grown,
Thought it adviseable to wed,
And chufe a partner of his bed,
Virtuous and chafte-Aye, right-but where
Is there a nymph that 's chaste as fair?
A bleffing to be priz'd, but rare.
For continence penurious heaven
With a too fparing hand has given;
A plant but feldom to be found,
And thrives but ill on British ground.
Should our adventurer hafte on board,
And fee what foreign foils afford?
Where watchful dragons guard the prize,
And jealous dons have Argus' eyes,
Where the rich casket, clofe immur'd,
Is under lock and key secur’d?
No-Frank, by long experience wife,
Had known these forts took by furprize.
Nature in spite of art prevail'd,
And all their vigilance had fail’d.
The youth was puzzled-should he go
And scale a convent? would that do?
Is nuns-flesh always good and sweet?
Fly-blown fometimes, not fit to eat.
Well-he refolves to do his best,
And prudently contrives this teft;
If the laft favour I obtain,
And the nymph yield, the case is plain :
Marry'd, fhe 'll play the fame odd prank
With others-fhe 's no wife for Frank.
But, could I find a female heart
Impregnable to force or art,
That all my batteries could withstand,
The fap, and even fword in hand;
Ye Gods! how happy fhould I be,
From each perplexing thought fet free,
From cuckoldom, and jealousy!
The project pleas'd. He now appears,
And shines in all his killing airs,
And every ufeful toy prepares.
New opera tunes, and billet-doux,
The clouded cane, and red-heel'd shoes;
Nor the clock-stocking was forgot,
Th' embroider'd coat, and shoulder-knot:
All that a woman's heart might move,
The potent trumpery of love.
Here importunity prevails,
There tears in floods, or fighs in gales.
Now, in the lucky moment try'd,
Low at his feet the fair-one dy'd,
For Strephon would not be deny'd.
Then, if no motives could perfuade,
A golden fhower debauch'd the maid,
The mistress truckled, and obey'd.
To modesty a fham pretence
Gain'd fome, others impertinence;
But moft, plain downright impudence.
Like Cæfar, now he conquer'd all,
The vaffal fex before him fall;
Wheree'er he march'd, flaughter enfued,
He came, he faw, and he fubdued.
At length a stubborn nymph he found,
For bold Camilla ftood her ground;
Parry'd his thrusts with equal art,
And had him both in tierce and quart:
She kept the hero ftill in play,
And still maintain'd the doubtful day.
Here he refolves to make a stand,
Take her, and marry out of hand.
The jolly priest foon ty'd the knot,
The luscious tale was not forgot,
Then empty'd both his pipe and pot.
The poffet drunk, the ftocking thrown,
The candles out, the curtains drawn,
And fir and madam all alone;
"My dear," faid he, "I ftrove, you know,
"To taste the joys you now bestow,
"All my perfuafive arts I try'd,
"But ftill relentless you deny'd;
"Tell me, inexorable fair,
"How could you, thus attack'd, forbear?"
"Swear to forgive what 's past," fhe cry'd;
"The naked truth fhan't be deny'd.”
He did; the baggage thus reply'd:
OR shame, faid Ebony, for shame,
"From Ruby, troth, you're much to blame,
"To drink at this confounded rate, "To guzzle thus, early and late !”
Poor Tom, who just had took his whet,
And at the door his uncle met,
Surpriz'd and thunder-ftruck, would fain
Make his escape, but, oh! in vain.
Each blush, that glow'd with an ill grace,
Lighted the flambeaux in his face;
No loop-hole left, no flight pretence,
To palliate the foul offence.
“ I own,” faid he, “I'm very bad→
"A fot-incorrigibly mad-
"But, fir-I thank you for your love,
"And by your lectures would improve :
"Yet, give me leave to say, the street
"For conference is not fo meet.
"Here in this room-nay, fir, come in-
"Expofe, chastise me for my fin;
"Exert each trope, your utmost art,
"To touch this senseless, flinty heart.
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