"Would I vouchfafe to fell what nature gave,
"You little think what cuftom I could have.
"But fee! I'm all your own-nay hold-for fhame;
"What means my dear-indeed-you are to blame."
Thus with my firft three Lords I past my life;
A very woman, and a very wife.

What fums from these old spouses I could raise,
Procur'd young hufbands in my riper days.
Though paft my bloom, not yet decay'd was I,
Wanton and wild, and chatter'd like a pie.
In country dances ftill I bore the bell,
And fung as fweet as evening Philomel.
To clear my quailpipe, and refresh my foul,
Full oft I drain'd the fpicy nut-brown bowl;

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Rich lufcious wines, that youthful blood improve, 215
And warm the fwelling veins to feats of love:
For 'tis as fure, as cold engenders hail,

A liquorish mouth must have a lecherous tail;
Wine lets no lover unrewarded go,

As all true gamesters by experience know.

But oh, good Gods! whene'er a thought I cast On all the joys of youth and beauty past,

220

To find in pleasures I have had my part,

Still warms me to the bottom of my heart.

This wicked world was once my dear delight;

225

Now all my conquefts, all my charms, good night!
The flour confum'd, the best that now I can,
Is e'en to make my market of the bran.

My fourth dear spoufe was not exceeding true;
He kept, 'twas thought, a private Mifs or two;

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But

But all that fcore I paid-as how? you'll fay,

Not with my body, in a filthy way:

But I fo drefs'd, and danc'd, and drank, and din'd; And view'd a friend with eyes fo very kind,

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As ftung his heart, and made his marrow fry,
With burning rage, and frantic jealousy.
His foul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory,
For here on earth I was his Purgatory.
Oft, when his fhoe the most severely wrung,

He put on careless airs, and fate and fung.

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How fore I gall'd him, only heaven could know,

And he that felt, and I that caus'd the woe.

He dy'd, when laft from pilgrimage I came,
With other goffips, from Jerufalem;
And now lies buried underneath a Rood,
Fair to be feen, and rear'd of honest wood.
A tomb indeed, with fewer fculptures grac'd,
Than that Maufolus' pious widow plac'd,
Or where infhrin'd the great Darius lay;
But coft on graves is merely thrown away.
The pit fill'd up, with turf we cover'd o'er ;

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So bleft the good man's foul, I fay no more.

Now for my fifth lov'd Lord, the last and best; (Kind heaven afford him everlasting reft!)

Full hearty was his love, and I can fhew

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The tokens on my ribs in black and blue;

Yet, with a knack, my heart he could have won,
While yet the fmart was fhooting in the bone.
How quaint an appetite in women reigns!

Free gifts we fcorn, and love what costs us pains: 260

Let men avoid us, and on them we leap :
A glutted market makes provision cheap.

In pure good-will I took this jovial spark,
Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk.
He boarded with a widow in the town,
A trufty goffip, one dame Alison.

Full well the fecrets of my foul she knew,
Better than e'er our parish-prieft could do.
To her I told whatever could befall:
Had but my husband piss'd against a wall,
Or done a thing that might have coft his life,
She- and my niece-and one more worthy wife,
Had known it all: what most he would conceal,
To these I made no fcruple to reveal.

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Oft has he blush'd from ear to ear for shame,
That e'er he told a fecret to his dame.

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1

It fo befel, in holy time of Lent,
That oft a day I to this goffip went

(My husband, thank my stars, was out of town);
From house to house we rambled up and down,
This clerk, myfelf, and my good neighbour Alfe,
To fee, be feen, to tell, and gather tales,
Vifits to every Church we daily paid,
And march'd in every holy Masquerade,
The Stations duly and the Vigils kept;
Not much we fafted, but scarce ever slept.
At Sermons too I fhone in fcarlet gay;
The wasting moth ne'er fpoil'd my best array;
The cause was this, I wore it every day.

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}

'Twas

'Twas when fresh May her early blossom yields, 290 This Clerk and I were walking in the fields,

We grew fo intimate, I can't tell how,
I pawn'd my honour and engag'd my vow,
If e'er I laid my husband in his urn,

That he, and only he, should serve my turn.

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We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed;

I ftill have shifts against a time of need:

The mouse that always trufts to one poor hole,
Can never be a mouse of any soul.

I vow'd, I scarce could sleep since first I knew him,
And durft be fworn he had bewitch'd me to him;
If e'er I flept, I dream'd of him alone,

And dreams foretell, as learned men have shown.
All this I faid; but dreams, firs, I had none:
I follow'd but my crafty Crony's lore,
Who bid me tell this lie-and twenty more.

Thus day by day, and month by month we past ;

It pleas'd the Lord to take my spouse at last.

I tore my gown, I foil'd my locks with dust,

305

And beat my breafts, as wretched widows-must. 310 Before my face my handkerchief I spread,

To hide the flood of tears I did--not shed.

The good man's coffin to the Church was borne;
Around, the neighbours, and my Clerk too, mourn.
But as he march'd, good Gods! he show'd a pair 315
Of legs and feet, fo clean, fo ftrong, so fair!
Of twenty winters age he seem'd to be;
I (to say truth) was twenty more than he ;

But

But vigorous ftill, a lively buxom dame;
And had a wondrous gift to quench a flame.
A Conjurer once, that deeply could divine,
Affur'd me, Mars in Taurus was my fign.
As the stars order'd, such my life has been :
Alas, alas, that ever love was fin!

320

Fair Venus gave me fire and sprightly grace,

325

And Mars affurance and a dauntlefs face.

By virtue of this powerful constellation,

I follow'd always my own inclination.

But to my tale: A month scarce pafs'd away,

With dance and fong we kept the nuptial day.

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All I poffefs'd I gave to his command,

My goods and chattels, money, house, and land:
But oft repented, and repent it still;

He prov'd a rebel to my fovereign will:

Nay once, by Heaven, he ftruck me on the face;

335

Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves the case.
Stubborn as any lioness was I;

And knew full well to raise my voice on high;

As true a rambler as I was before,

And would be fo, in spite of all he swore.

340

He against this right fagely would advise,
And old examples fet before my eyes,

Tell how the Roman matrons led their life,
Of Gracchus' mother, and Duilius' wife;

And close the fermon, as befeem'd his wit,

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With fome grave fentence out of Holy Writ.

Oft would he fay, Who builds his house on fands,

Pricks his blind horfe across the fallow lands,

Or