There! -Now be ready when we meet to But from his meanness she resolved to part.'

Meantime the wife-but she abjured the

name

Then came a spoiler, who, with villain-art, Implored her hand, and agonized her heart; Endured her lot, and struggled with the He seized her purse, in idle waste to spend With a vile woman, whom she call'd her

shame;

When lo! an uncle on the mother's side,
In nature something, as in blood allied,
Admired her firmness, his protection gave,
And show'd a kindness she disdain'd to crave.
Frugal and rich the man, and frugal grew
The sister-mind, without a selfish view;
And further still-the temp'rate pair agreed
With what they saved the patient poor to
feed:

His whole estate, when to the grave consign'd,
Left the good kinsman to the kindred mind;
Assured that law, with spell secure and tight,
Had fix'd it as her own peculiar right.

Now to her ancient residence removed,
She lived as widow, well endow'd and loved;
Decent her table was, and to her door
Came daily welcomed the neglected poor:
The absent sick were soothed by her relief,
As her free bounty sought the haunts of grief;
A plain and homely charity had she,
And loved the objects of her alms to see;
With her own hands she dress'd the savoury
meat,

With her own fingers wrote the choice receipt;
She heard all tales that injured wives relate,
And took a double interest in their fate;
But of all husbands not a wretch was known
So vile, so mean, so cruel, as her own.

This bounteous lady kept an active spy,
To search th' abodes of want, and to supply;
The gentle Susan served the liberal dame-
Unlike their notions, yet their deeds the same:
No practised villain could a victim find,
Than this stern lady more completely blind;
Nor (if detected in his fraud) could meet
One less disposed to pardon a deceit ;
The wrong she treasured, and on no pretence
Received th' offender, or forgot th' offence:
But the kind servant, to the thrice-proved
knave

A fourth time listen'd, and the past forgave.
First in her youth, when she was blithe and
gay,

friend;

Five years she suffer'd-he had revell'd five-
Then came to show her he was just alive;
Alone he came, his vile companion dead;
And he, a wand'ring pauper, wanting bread;
His body wasted, wither'd life and limb,
When this kind soul became a slave to him;
Nay, she was sure that, should he now survive,
No better husband would be left alive;
For him she mourn'd, and then, alone and
poor,

Sought and found comfort at her lady's door:
Ten years she served, and, mercy her employ,
Her tasks were pleasure, and her duty joy.

Thus lived the mistress and the maid,

design'd

Each other's aid-one cautious, and both
kind:

Oft at their window, working, they would sigh
To see the aged and the sick go by;
Like wounded bees, that at their home arrive,
Slowly and weak, but labouring for the hive.
The busy people of a mason's yard
The curious lady view'd with much regard;
With steady motion she perceived them
draw

Through blocks of stone the slowly-working

saw;

It gave her pleasure and surprise to see
Among these men the signs of revelry:
Cold was the season, and confined their view,
Tedious their tasks, but merry were the crew:
There she beheld an aged pauper wait,
Patient and still, to take an humble freight;
Within the panniers on an ass he laid
The ponderous grit, and for the portion paid;
This he re-sold, and, with each trifling gift,
Made shift to live, and wretched was the shift.
Now will it be by every reader told
Who was this humble trader, poor and old.—
In vain an author would a name suppress,
From the least hint a reader learns to guess;
Of children lost, our novels sometimes treat,

Came a smooth rogue, and stole her love away; We never care-assured again to meet :
Then to another and another flew,

To boast the wanton mischief he could do: Yet she forgave him, though so great her pain,

That she was never blithe or gay again.

In vain the writer for concealment tries,
We trace his purpose under all disguise;
Nay, though he tells us they are dead and
gone,

Of whom we wot-they will appear anon;

What cutting blast! and he can scarcely crawl;

Thus was the grieving man, with burthen'd He freezes as he moves-he dies! if he should

But the fierce wind the willing heart opposed,
And, ere he spoke, the lips in misery closed:
Poor suffering object! yes, for ease you
pray'd,

And God will hear-he only, I'm afraid.'
'Peace! Susan, peace! Pain ever follows
sin.'-

Go to the creature-say that I intend,
Foe to his sins, to be his sorrow's friend;
Take, for his present comforts, food and
wine,

And mark his feelings at this act of mine:
Observe if shame be o'er his features spread,
By his own victim to be soothed and fed;

Ah! then,' thought Susan, when will ours But, this inform him, that it is not love

begin?

'When reach'd his home, to what a cheerless
fire

And chilling bed will those cold limbs retire!
Yet ragged, wretched as it is, that bed
Takes half the space of his contracted shed;
I saw the thorns beside the narrow grate,
With straw collected in a putrid state:

That prompts my heart, that duties only

move:

Say, that no merits in his favour plead,
But miseries only, and his abject need ;
Nor bring me grov'ling thanks, nor high-
flown praise;

I would his spirits, not his fancy raise:
Give him no hope that I shall ever more

There will he, kneeling, strive the fire to A man so vile to my esteem restore;

And how he wanders in the wind and snow:
Safe in our rooms the threat'ning storm we
hear,

But he feels strongly what we faintly fear.'
'Wilful was rich, and he the storm defied
Wilful is poor, and must the storm abide;
Said the stern lady-" "Tis in vain to feel
Go and prepare the chicken for our meal.'
Susan her task reluctantly began,

But warn him rather, that, in time of rest,
His crimes be all remember'd and con-

fess'd:

I know not all that form the sinner's debt,
But there is one that he must not forget.'

The mind of Susan prompted her with speed
To act her part in every courteous deed:
All that was kind she was prepared to say,
And keep the lecture for a future day;
When he had all life's comforts by his side,
Pity might sleep, and good advice be tried.

This done, the mistress felt disposed to look,
As self-approving, on a pious book:
Yet, to her native bias still inclined,
She felt her act too merciful and kind;
But when, long musing on the chilling

scene

And utter'd as she went-' The poor old So lately past-the frost and sleet so keen

man!'

But while her soft and ever-yielding heart
Made strong protest against her lady's part,
The lady's self began to think it wrong,
To feel so wrathful and resent so long.

'No more the wretch would she receive
again,

No more behold him-but she would sus-
tain;

Great his offence, and evil was his mind-
But he had suffer'd, and she would be kind :
She spurn'd such baseness, and she found
within

A fair acquittal from so foul a sin;
Yet she too err'd, and must of Heaven expect
To be rejected, him should she reject.'

Susan was summon'd-'I'm about to do
A foolish act, in part seduced by you;

so

To have this plenty, and to wait
long,
And to be right too late, is doubly wrong:
Then, every day to see him totter by,
And to forbear-Oh! what a heart had I!'
Blame me not, child; I tremble at the
news.'

"Tis my own heart,' said Susan, 'I accuse :

To have this money in my purse-to know
What grief was his, and what to grief we owe ;
To see him often, always to conceive
How he must pine and languish, groan and
grieve;

And every day in ease and peace to dine,
And rest in comfort!-what a heart is
mine!'-

TALE XVIII. THE WAGER

'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.
Taming of the Shrew, Act v, Scene 2.
I choose her for myself:
If she and I are pleased, what 's that to you?
Ibid., Act v, Scene 2.

Let's each one send unto his wife,
And he whose wife is most obedient. . .
... Shail win the wager.

But all be silent; and, when seen again,
Let all be cheerful-shall a wife complain?
Friends I invite, and who shall dare t' object,
Or look on them with coolness or neglect ?
No! I must ever of my house be head,
And, thus obey'd, I condescend to wed.'
Clubb heard the speech- My friend is
nice,' said he ;

Ibid., Act v, Scene 2. A wife with less respect will do for me:
How is he certain such a prize to gain ?
What he approves, a lass may learn to feign,
And so affect t' obey till she begins to reign;
Awhile complying, she may vary then,

Now by the world it is a lusty wench,
I love her ten times more than e'er I did.
Ibid., Act ii, Scene 1.

COUNTER and CLUBB were men in trade, whose And be as wives of more unwary men ;

pains,

Credit, and prudence, brought them constant gains;

Partners and punctual, every friend agreed
Counter and Clubb were men who must
succeed.

When they had fix'd some little time in life,
Each thought of taking to himself a wife:
As men in trade alike, as men in love
They seem'd with no according views to move;
As certain ores in outward view the same,
They show'd their difference when the magnet

came.

Counter was vain: with spirit strong and high,
'Twas not in him like suppliant swain to sigh:
His wife might o'er his men and maids
preside,

And in her province be a judge and guide;
But what he thought, or did, or wish'd to do,
She must not know, or censure if she knew;
At home, abroad, by day, by night, if he
On aught determined, so it was to be:
How is a man,' he ask'd,' for business fit,
Who to a female can his will submit?
Absent awhile, let no inquiring eye

Or plainer speech presume to question why:

Beside, to him who plays such lordly part,
How shall a tender creature yield her heart?
Should he the promised confidence refuse,
She may another more confiding choose;
May show her anger, yet her purpose hide,
And wake his jealousy, and wound his pride.
In one so humbled, who can trace the friend?
I on an equal, not a slave, depend;
If true, my confidence is wisely placed,
And being false, she only is disgraced.'

Clubb, with these notions, cast his eye
around,

And one so easy soon a partner found.
The lady chosen was of good repute;
Meekness she had not, and was seldom mute;
Though quick to anger, still she loved to

smile;

And would be calm if men would wait awhile:
She knew her duty, and she loved her way,
More pleased in truth to govern than obey;
She heard her priest with reverence, and her

spouse

As one who felt the pressure of her vows:
Useful and civil, all her friends confess'd-
Give her her way, and she would choose the
best;