WITH anxious care apologies were made; The lady, frightened by the frolick played, Quite unsuspicious to the mansion went; Her aged friend for other clothes she sent, Who hurried home, and ent'ring out of breath; Informed old hunks--what pained him more than death
ZOUNDS! cried the latter, vainly I may look To find a case like this within my book; A dupe I'm made, and nothing can be worse:-- Hell seize the work--'tis thoroughly a curse!
NOT wrong he proved, for, truly to confess; This throwing dirt upon the lady's dress Was done to get the hag, with Argus' eyes Removed a certain distance from the prize. The gay gallant, who watched the lucky hour, Felt doubly blessed to have her in his power.
HOW vain our schemes to guard the wily sex! Oft plots we find, that ev'ry sense perplex. Go, jealous husbands, books of cases burn; Caresses lavish, and you'll find return.
A GASCON (being heard one day to swear, That he'd possess'd a certain lovely fair,) Was played a wily trick, and nicely served; 'Twas clear, from truth he shamefully had swerved: But those who scandal propagate below, Are prophets thought, and ev'ry action know; While good, if spoken, scarcely is believed, And must be viewed, or not for truth received.
THE dame, indeed, the Gascon only jeered, And e'er denied herself when he appeared; But when she met the wight, who sought to shine; And called her angel, beauteous and divine, She fled and hastened to a female friend, Where she could laugh, and at her ease unbend.
NEAR Phillis, (our fair fugitive) there dwelled One Eurilas, his nearest neighbour held; His wife was Cloris; 'twas with her our dove Took shelter from the Gascon's forward love, Whose name was Dorilas; and Damon young, (The Gascon's friend) on whom gay Cloris hung.
SWEET Phillis, by her manner, you might see, From sly amours and dark intrigues was free; The value to possess her no one knew, Though all admired the lovely belle at view. Just twenty years she counted at the time, And now a widow was, though in her prime, (Her spouse, an aged dotard, worth a plum:-- Of those whose loss to mourn no tears e'er come.)
OUR seraph fair, such loveliness possessed, In num'rous ways a Gascon could have blessed; Above, below, appeared angelic charms; 'Twas Paradise, 'twas Heav'n, within her arms!