So may my soul have joy, as thou my wife
Art for the dearest solace of my life:
And rather would I chuse, by Heav'n above,
To die this instant, than to lose thy love.
Reflect what truth was in my passion shown,
When, unendow'd, I took thee for my own,
And sought no treasure but thy heart alone.
Old as I am, and now depriv'd of sight,
Whilst thou art faithful to thy own true Knight,
Nor age nor blindness, rob me of delight.
Each other loss with patience I can bear,
The loss of thee is what I only fear.
Consider then, my lady and my wife,
The solid comforts of a virtuous life.
As first, the love of Christ himself you gain;
Next, your own honour undefil'd maintain;
And, lastly, that which sure your mind must move, My whole estate shall gratify your love:
Make your own terms, and ere to morrow's sun
Displays his light, by Heav'n it shall be done.
I seal the contract with a holy kiss,
And will perform, by this-my dear, and this-
Have comfort, spouse nor think thy lord unkind;
'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind:
For when thy charms my sober thoughts engage,
And join'd to them my own unequal age,
From thy dear side I have no pow'r to part,
Such secret transports warm my melting heart.
For who that once possess'd those heav'nly charms,
Could live one moment absent from thy arms?
He ceas'd, and May with modest grace reply'd;
(Weak was her voice, as while she spoke she cry'd)
Heav'n knows (with that a tender sigh she drew)
I have a soul to save as well as you ;
And, what no less you to my charge commend,
My dearest honour, will to death defend.
To you in holy church I gave my hand,
And join'd my heart in wedlock's sacred band:
Yet after this, if you distrust my care,
Then hear, my Lord and witness what I swear:
First may the yawning earth her bosom rend, 585
And let me hence to hell alive descend;
Or die the death I dread no less than hell,
Sew'd in a sack, and plung'd into a well;
Ere I my fame by one lewd act disgrace,
Or once renounce the honour of my race.
For know, Sir Knight, of gentle blood I came;
I loath a whore, and startle at the name.
But jealous men on their own crimes reflect,
And learn from thence their ladies to suspect:
Else why these needless cautions, Sir, to me?
These doubts and fears of female constancy?
This chime still rings in ev'ry lady's ear,
The only strain a wife must hope to hear.
Thus while she spoke, a sidelong glance she cast,
Where Damian, kneeling, worshipp'd as she past. 600
She saw him watch the motions of her eye,
And singled out a pear-tree planted nigh:
'Twas charg'd with fruit that made a goodly show,
And hung with dangling pears was ev'ry bough.
Thither th' obsequious Squire address'd his pace, 605
And climbing, in the summit took his place:
The Knight and lady walk'd beneath in view,
Where let us leave them, and our tale pursue.
'Twas now the season when the glorious sun
His heav'nly progress thro' the Twins had run; 610
And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,
To glad the glebe, and paint the flow'ry fields:
Clear was the day, and Phœbus, rising bright,
Had streak'd the azure firmament with light;
He pierc'd the glitt'ring clouds with golden streams, And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beams.
It so befel, in that fair morning-tide,
The fairies sported on the garden-side,
And in the midst their monarch and his bride.
So featly tripp'd the light-foot ladies round, 620
The Knights so nimbly o'er the greensword bound,
That scarce they bent the flow'rs, or touch'd the
ground.
The dances ended, all the fairy train
For pinks and daisies search'd the flow'ry plain;
While on a bank reclin❜d of rising green,
Thus, with a frown, the King bespoke his Queen.
'Tis too apparent, argue what you can,
The treachery you women use to man:
A thousand authors have this truth made out,
And sad experience leaves no room for doubt.
Heav'n rest thy spirit, noble Solomon,
A wiser monarch never saw the sun :
All wealth, all honours, the supreme degree
Of earthly bliss, was well bestow'd on thee!
For sagely hast thou said, Of all mankind,
One only just, and righteous, hope to find:
But shouldst thou search the spacious world around, Yet one good woman is not to be found.
Thus says the King who knew your wickedness; The Son of Sirach testifies no less.
O may some wildfire on your bodies fall,
Or some devouring plague consume you all;
As well you view the lecher in the tree,
And well this honourable Knight you see:
But since he's blind and old (a helpless case)
His Squire shall cuckold him before your face.
Now by my own dread majesty I swear,
And by this awful sceptre which I bear,
No impious wretch shall 'scape unpunish'd long,
That in my presence offer's such a wrong.
I will this instant undeceive the Knight,
And, in the very act, restore his sight:
And set the strumpet here in open view,
A warning to these ladies, and to you,
And all the faithless sex, forever to be true. 655
And will you so, reply'd the Queen, indeed?
Now by my mother's soul, it is decreed,
She shall not want an answer at her need.
For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage,
And all the sex in each succeeding age;
Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence,
And fortify their crimes with confidence.
Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace,
Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd to the place;
All they shall need is to protest and swear,
Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear;
Till their wise husbands, gull'd by arts like these,
Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese.
What though this sland'rous Jew, this Solomon,
Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one;
The wiser wits of later times declare
How constant, chaste, and virtuous, women are:
Witness the martyrs, who resign'd their breath,
Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death;
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