How like a vine young Ammon curl'd!
Oh that dear conqu'ror of the world!
She pity'd Betterton in age,

That ridicul'd the godlike rage.

She first of all the town, was told,
Where newest India things were fold:
So, in a morning, without bodice,
Shipt fometimes out to Mrs. Thody's;
To cheapen tea, to buy a screen:
What else could fo much virtue mean?
For, to prevent the leaft reproach,
Betty went with her in the coach.
But, when no very great affair
Excited her peculiar care,
She, without fail, was wak'd at ten;
Drank chocolate, then flept again:
At twelve she rofe; with much ado
Her cloaths were huddled on by two:
Then, does my lady dine at home?
Yes, fure;

but is the Col'nel come?
Next, how to spend the afternoon,
And not come home again too foon;
The change, the city, or the play,
As each was proper for the day;
A turn, in fummer, to Hyde Park,
When it grew tolerably dark.
Wife's pleasure caufes husband's pain :
Strange fancies come in Hans's brain :
He thought of what he did not name;
And would reform; but durft not blame.

At first, he, therefore, preach'd his wife
The comforts of a pious life :

Told her, how tranfient beauty was ;
That all muft die, and flesh was grafs :
He bought her fermons, pfalms, and graces
And doubled down the useful places.
But, ftill, the weight of worldly care
Allow'd her little time for pray'r;
And Cleopatra was read o'er,

While Scot, and Wake, and twenty more,
That teach one to deny one's felf,

Stood unmolefted on the fhelf.

An untouch'd bible grac'd her toilet:
No fear that thumb of her's fhould spoil it.
In fhort, the trade was ftill the fame;
The dame went out; the Col'nel came.
What's to be done? poor Carvel cry'd ;
Another batt'ry must be try'd:
What if to spells I had recourse ?
"Tis but to hinder fomething worse.
The end muft juftify the means;
He only fins, who ill intends:
Since, therefore, 'tis to combat evil,
"Tis lawful to employ the Devil.
Forthwith, the Devil did appear
(For name him and he's always near)
Not in the fhape in which he plies
At Mifs's elbow when the lies;
Or ftands before the nurs'ry doors,
To take the naughty boy that roars :

But

But without fawcer eye or claw,
Like a grave barrifter at law.

Hans Carvel, lay afide your grief,
The Devil fays; I bring relief.

Relief, fays Hans: pray let me crave

Your name, Sir,

Satan.- -Sir, your flave:

I did not look upon your feet:

You'll pardon me Ay now I fee't:
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 complaifance :
The truth is this: I cannot stay
Flaring in fun-fhine all the day :
For, entre nous, we hellish sprites,
Love more the fresco of the nights;
And oftner 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, mafter Carvel, a
Lay down your fowls, and broach your barrel;
Let friends and wine diffolve your care,
Whilft I the great receipt prepare :-↔
To-night I'll bring it, by my faith;
Believe, for once, what Satan faith.
Away went Hans, glad not a little ;
Obey'd the Devil to a tittle;

Invited friends fome half a dozen,
The Col'nel, and my lady's cousin,

The meat was ferv'd; the bowls were crown'd

Catches were fung; and healths went round : Barbadoes waters for the clofe;

Till Hans had fairly got his dofe :

The Col'nel toasted to the beft::

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 difturb'd: new forrow!
Which Hans muft answer for to-morrow.
In bed, then, view this happy pair;
And think how Hymen triumph'd there..
Hans, fast asleep as foon as laid;
The duty of the night unpaid:

The waking dame, with thoughts oppreft,,
That made her hate both him and reft :
By fuch a husband, fuch a wife!"
'Twas Achme's and Septimius' life ::
The lady figh'd; the lover fnor'd:
The punctual Devil kept his word;
Appear'd to honest Hans again;
But not at all by madam feen;
And giving him a magic ring,,
Fit for the finger of a king ::
Dear Hans, faid he, this jewel take,
And wear it long for Satan's fake;

'Twill do your business to a hair :

For, long as you this ring shall wear,
As fure as I look over Lincoln,

you

That ne'er shall happen which think on.
Hans took the ring with joy extream,
(All this was only in a dream)

And, thrusting it beyond his joint,

"Tis done, he cry'd; I've gain'd my point.
What point, faid fhe, 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.