"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:
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; Obey'd the devil to a tittle;
Invited friends some half a dozen,
The Colonel, and my lady's cousin.
The meat was serv'd; the bowls were crown'd;
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 mov'd off, to be undrest:
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 disturb'd: new sorrow!
Which Hans must answer for to-morrow.
In bed then view this happy pair;
And think how Hymen triumph'd there.
Hans fast asleep as soon as laid,
The duty of the night unpaid:
The waking dame, with thoughts opprest,
That made her hate both him and rest;
By such a husband, such a wife!
'Twas Acme's and Septimius' life :
The lady sigh'd: the lover snor'd:
The punctual devil kept his word :
Appear'd 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,
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 gain'd 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.
IRE, water, woman, are man's ruin:
Says wise professor Vander Brüin.
By flames a house I hir'd was lost
Last year, and I must pay the cost.
This spring the rains o'erflow'd my ground:
And my best Flanders mare was drown'd.
A slave I am to Clara's eyes:
The gipsy knows her power, and flies.
Fire, water, woman, are my ruin :
And great thy wisdom, Vander Brüin.
PAULO PURGANTI AND HIS WIFE:
AN HONEST, BUT A SIMPLE PAIR.
EST enim quiddam, idque intelligitur in omni virtute, quod deceat: quod cogitatione magis à virtute potest quàm re CIC. de Off. L. 2.
EYOND the fix'd and settled rules
Of vice and virtue in the schools,
Beyond the letter of the law,
Which keeps our men and maids in awe,
The better sort should set before 'em
A grace, a manner, a decorum ;
Something, that gives their acts a light;
Makes 'em not only just, but bright;
And sets them in that open fame,
Which witty malice cannot blame.
For 'tis in life, as 'tis in painting:
Much may be right, yet much be wanting;
From lines drawn true, our eye may trace
A foot, a knee, a hand, a face:
May justly own the picture wrought
Exact to rule, exempt from fault :
Yet, if the colouring be not there,
The Titian stroke, the Guido air;
To nicest judgment show the piece;
At best 'twill only not displease:
It would not gain on Jersey's eye:
Bradford would frown, and set it by.
Thus in the picture of our mind
The action may be well design'd;
Guided by law, and bound by duty;
Yet want this Je ne sçay quoy of beauty:
And though its error may be such,
As Knags and Burgess* cannot hit;
It yet may feel the nicer touch
Of Wycherley's or Congreve's wit.
What is this talk? replies a friend,
And where will this dry moral end?
The truth of what you here lay down
By some example should be shown.—
With all my heart, for once; read on.
An honest, but a simple pair
(And twenty other I forbear)
May serve to make this thesis clear.
A doctor of great skill and fame,
Paulo Purganti was his name,
Had a good, comely, virtuous wife;
No woman led a better life:
She to intrigues was e'en hard-hearted:
She chuckled when a bawd was carted;
And thought the nation ne'er would thrive,
Till all the whores were burnt alive.
On married men, that dare be bad,
She thought no mercy should be had;
They should be hang'd, or starv'd, or flead,
Or serv'd like Romish priests in Swede.
In short, all lewdness she defied:
And stiff was her parochial pride.
Yet, in an honest way, the dame
Two divines. Knags was Lecturer of St. Giles in the Fields; Burgess, a Dissenter.
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