The Poetical Works of George Crabbe

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

The man's whole misery in a single viewYes! she could think some pity was his due.

Thus fix'd, she heard not her attendant glide

With soft slow step-till, standing by her side,

The trembling servant gasp'd for breath, and shed

Relieving tears, then utter'd-' He is dead!' 'Dead!' said the startled lady; 'Yes, he

fell

;

Close at the door where he was wont to dwell
There his sole friend, the ass, was standing by,
Half dead himself, to see his master die.'

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, Acť 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.

...

Ibid., Act v, Scene 2.
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.

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 ;

'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,

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;

make

Though some indeed a sly remark would Where Counter ofttimes would occasion seize,
To move his silent friend by words like these:
'A man,' said he, if govern'd by his wife,
Gives up his rank and dignity in life;
Now better fate befalls my friend and me '-
He spoke, and look'd th' approving smile to

Give it her not, and she would choose to take.
All this, when Clubb some cheerful months
had spent,

He saw, confess'd, and said he was content.
Counter meantime selected, doubted,

weigh'd,

see.

The quiet partner, when he chose to speak,

And then brought home a young complying Desired his friend, another theme to seek ;

maid ;

A tender creature, full of fears as charms,
A beauteous nursling from its mother's arms;
A soft, sweet blossom, such as men must love,
But to preserve must keep it in the stove:
She had a mild, subdued, expiring look—
Raise but the voice, and this fair creature
shook;

When thus they met, he judged that state

affairs

And such important subjects should be theirs:'
But still the partner, in his lighter vein,
Would cause in Clubb affliction or disdain;
It made him anxious to detect the cause
Of all that boasting-Wants my friend
applause?

This plainly proves him not at perfect ease,
For, felt he pleasure, he would wish to
please.-

Leave her alone, she felt a thousand fears-
Chide, and she melted into floods of tears;
Fondly she pleaded and would gently sigh,
For very pity, or she knew not why;
These triumphs here for some regrets atone-
One whom to govern none could be afraid-Men who are blest let other men alone.'
Hold up the finger, this meek thing obey'd;
Her happy husband had the easiest task-
Say but his will, no question would she ask;
She sought no reasons, no affairs she knew,
Of business spoke not, and had nought to

do.

Oft he exclaim'd,' How meek! how mild!
how kind!

With her 'twere cruel but to seem unkind;
Though ever silent when I take my leave,⚫
It pains my heart to think how hers will
grieve;

'Tis heaven on earth with such a wife to dwell,
I am in raptures to have sped so well;
But let me not, my friend, your envy raise,
No! on my life, your patience has my praise.'
His friend, though silent, felt the scorn
implied-

Thus made suspicious, he observed and saw
His friend each night at early hour withdraw;
He sometimes mention'd Juliet's tender

nerves,

And what attention such a wife deserves:
'In this,' thought Clubb, 'full sure some
mystery lies-

He laughs at me, yet he with much complies,
And all his vaunts of bliss are proud apologies.'
With such ideas treasured in his breast,
He grew composed, and let his anger rest;
Till Counter once (when wine so long went
round

That friendship and discretion both were
drown'd)

Began in teasing and triumphant mood
His evening banter- Of all earthly good,
The best,' he said, ' was an obedient spouse,

'What need of patience?' to himself he Such as my friend's-that every one allows :

cried :

'Better a woman o'er her house to rule,
Than a poor child just hurried from her
school;

Who has no care, yet never lives at ease;
Unfit to rule, and indisposed to please;
What if he govern, there his boast should end,
No husband's power can make a slave his
friend.'

It was the custom of these friends to meet With a few neighbours in a neighbouring street;

What if she wishes his designs to know?
It is because she would her praise bestow;
What if she wills that he remains at home?
She knows that mischief may from travel

come.

I, who am free to venture where I please,
Have no such kind preventing checks as these;
But mine is double duty, first to guide
Myself aright, then rule a house beside;
While this our friend, more happy than the

free,

Resigns all power, and laughs at liberty.'

'By Heaven,' said Clubb, 'excuse me if That though a wife may sometimes wish to rule,

I swear,

I'll bet a hundred guineas, if he dare,
That uncontroll❜d I will such freedoms take,
That he will fear to equal-there's my stake.'
A match!' said Counter, much by wine
inflamed;

She would not make th' indulgent man a fool;
I would at times advise-but idle they
Who think th' assenting husband must obey.'
The happy man, who thought his lady right
In other cases, was assured to-night;
Then for the day with proud delight prepared,

'But we are friends-let smaller stake be To show his doubting friends how much he

Yourself the place, and what you like to lose ; And he who first returns, or fears to go, Forfeits his cash- Said Counter, Be it so.' The friends around them saw with much delight

The social war, and hail'd the pleasant night; Nor would they further hear the cause discuss'd,

Afraid the recreant heart of Clubb to trust. Now sober thoughts return'd as each withdrew,

And of the subject took a serious view; ''Twas wrong,' thought Counter, and will grieve my love;'

''Twas wrong,' thought Clubb,' my wife will not approve;

But friends were present; I must try the thing,

Or with my folly half the town will ring.'
He sought his lady-Madam, I'm to blame,
But was reproach'd, and could not bear the
shame ;

Here in my folly-for 'tis best to say
The very truth-I've sworn to have my way:
To that Newmarket-(though I hate the place,
And have no taste or talents for a race,
Yet so it is-well, now prepare to chide)-
I laid a wager that I dared to ride;
And I must go by Heaven, if you resist
I shall be scorn'd, and ridiculed, and hiss'd;
Let me with grace before my friends appear,
You know the truth, and must not be severe
He too must go, but that he will of course
Do you consent ?-I never think of force.'

'You never need,' the worthy dame replied; 'The husband's honour is the woman's pride; If I in trifles be the wilful wife,

Still for your credit I would lose my life; Go! and when fix'd the day of your return, Stay longer yet, and let the blockheads learn,

dared.

Counter-who grieving sought his bed, his

rest

Broken by pictures of his love distress'dWith soft and winning speech the fair prepared;

She all his councils, comforts, pleasures shared :

She was assured he loved her from his soul, She never knew and need not fear control; But so it happen'd—he was grieved at heart, It happen'd so, that they awhile must part— A little time-the distance was but short, And business call'd him-he despised the sport;

But to Newmarket he engaged to ride, With his friend Clubb,' and there he stopp'd and sigh'd.

Awhile the tender creature look'd dismay'd, Then floods of tears the call of grief obey'd :— 'She an objection! No!' she sobb'd,

'not one;

Her work was finish'd, and her race was run;
For die she must, indeed she would not live
A week alone, for all the world could give;
He too must die in that same wicked place;
It always happen'd-was a common case;
Among those horrid horses, jockeys, crowds,
'Twas certain death-they might bespeak
their shrouds ;

He would attempt a race, be sure to fall—
And she expire with terror-that was all;
With love like hers she was indeed unfit
To bear such horrors, but she must submit.'
'But for three days, my love! three days

at most

'Enough for me; I then shall be a ghost-' 'My honour's pledged!'-Oh! yes, my dearest life,

I know your honour must outweigh your wife; But ere this absence, have you sought a friend? I shall be dead-on whom can you depend ?— Let me one favour of your kindness crave, Grant me the stone I mention'd for my grave.-'

'Nay, love, attend-why, bless my soulI say

I will return-there-weep no longernay!

'Well! I obey, and to the last am true, But spirits fail me; I must die; adieu!' 'What, madam! must ?-'tis wrong-I'm angry-zounds!

Each faithful wife, like ours, must disapprove Such dangerous trifling with connubial love; What has the idle world, my friend, to do With our affairs? they envy me and you: What if I could my gentle spouse commandIs that a cause I should her tears withstand? And what if you, a friend of peace, submit To one you love-is that a theme for wit?

weak

Can I remain and lose a thousand pounds?''Twas wrong, and I shall henceforth judge it 'Go then, my love! it is a monstrous sum, Worth twenty wives-go, love! and I am

dumb

Nor be displeased-had I the power to live,
You might be angry, now you must forgive;
Alas! I faint-ah! cruel-there's no need
Of wounds or fevers-this has done the deed.'
The lady fainted, and the husband sent
For every aid, for every comfort went;
Strong terror seized him; 'Oh! she loved
so well,

And who th' effect of tenderness could tell ? '
She now recover'd, and again began
With accent querulous- Ah! cruel man-
Till the sad husband, conscience-struck,
confess'd,

'Twas very wicked with his friend to jest; For now he saw that those who were obey'd, Could like the most subservient feel afraid; And though a wife might not dispute the will Of her liege lord, she could prevent it still. The morning came, and Clubb prepared to ride

With a smart boy, his servant and his guide;
When, ere he mounted on the ready steed,
Arrived a letter, and he stopp'd to read.
'My friend,' he read our journey
decline,

A heart too tender for such strife is mine;
Yours is the triumph, be you so inclined;
But you are too considerate and kind:
In tender pity to my Juliet's fears

I thus relent, o'ercome by love and tears;
She knows your kindness; I have heard her

say,

A man like you 'tis pleasure to obey :

Both of submission and control to speak: Be it agreed that all contention cease, And no such follies vex our future peace; Let each keep guard against domestic strife, And find nor slave nor tyrant in his wife.' 'Agreed,' said Clubb, with all my soul agreed '—

And to the boy, delighted, gave his steed; 'I think my friend has well his mind express'd, And I assent; such things are not a jest.'

'True,' said the wife, no longer he can hide The truth that pains him by his wounded pride:

Your friend has found it not an easy thing, Beneath his yoke, this yielding soul to bring; These weeping willows, though they seem inclined

By every breeze, yet not the strongest wind Can from their bent divert this weak but stubborn kind;

Drooping they seek your pity to excite,
But 'tis at once their nature and delight;
Such women feel not; while they sigh and

weep,

'Tis but their habit-their affections sleep; I They are like ice that in the hand we hold, So very melting, yet so very cold; On such affection let not man rely, The husbands suffer, and the ladies sigh: But your friend's offer let us kindly take, And spare his pride for his vexation's sake; For he has found, and through his life will find, 'Tis easiest dealing with the firmest mindMore just when it resists, and, when it yields, more kind,"

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