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Or that some orphlines writings here be for’d,
Or pot of gold laine deep beneath a board :
Or thinketh hem, if he might see no sprite,
The Abbaye mought buy this houfe cheap outright.

As hem thus thinketh, anone asleep he lies,
Up starten Sathanas with faucer eyes.
He turned the Freer upon his face downright,
Displaying his nether cheeks full broad and white.
Then quoth Dan Sathanas as he thwacked him fore,
Thou didft forget to guard thy postern-door.
There is an hole which hath not crossed been :
Farewell, from whence I came, I creepen in.

Now plain it is ytellen in my verse, If Devils in hell bear Freers in their erfe, On earth the Devil in Freers doth y.dwell ; Were there no Freers, the Devil mought keep in hell.

WORK

WORK FOR A COOPER.

A T A L E.

А

MAN may lead a happy life,

Without that needful thing a wife:
This long have lufty Abbots known,
Who ne'er knew spouses-

-of their own.
What, though your house be clean and neat,
With couches, chairs, and beds compleat ;
Though you each day invite a friend,
Though he should ev'ry dish commend,
On Bagshot-heath your mutton fed,
Your fowls at Brentford born and bred;
Though purest wine your cellars boast,
Wine worthy of the fairest toast;
Yet there are other things requir'd:
Ring, and let's see the maid you hir'd-
Bless me! those hands might hold a broom,
Twirle round a mop, and wash a room :
A batchelor his maid should keep,
Not for that servile use to sweep,
Let her his humour understand,
And turn to ev'ry thing her hand.
Get you a lass that's young and tight,
Whose arms are, like her apron, white ;
What though her shift be feldom seen?
Let that, though coarse, be always clean ;

She

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And on your

She might each morn your tea attend,

wrift
your

ruffle mend;
Then if you break a roguish jest,
Or squeeze her hand, or pat her breaft,
She cries, Oh dear Sir, don't be naught!
And blushes speak her last night's fault.
To her

your

houshold cares confide,
Let your keys gingle at her fide,
A footman's blunders teaze and fret ye,
Ev’n while

you
chide
you

smile on Betty.
Discharge him then, if he's too spruce,
For Betty's for his master's use.

Will you your am'rous fancy baulk,
For fear some prudish neighbour talk ?
But you'll object, that you're afraid
Of the

pert

freedoms of a maid ;
Besides your wiser heads will say,
That she who turns her hand this way,
From one vice to another drawn,
Will lodge your filver spoons in pawn.
Has not the homely wrinkled jade
More need to learn the pilf’ring trade?
For love all Betty's wants supplies,
Laces her shoes, her manteau dyes,
All her stuff suits The Alings away,
And wears thread fattin every day.

Who then a dirty drab would hire,
Brown as the hearth of kitchen fire ?
When all must own, were Betty put
To the black duties of the flut,
As well she scow'rs or scrubs a floor,
And still is good for something more.

Thus, to avoid the greater vice,
I knew a Priest, of conscience nice,

To

To quell his luft for neighbour's spouse,
Keep fornication in his house.

But you're impatient all this time,
Fret at my counsel, curse my rhyme.
Be satisfy'd. I'll talk no more,
For thus my tale begins-Of yore
There dwelt at Blois a Priest full fair,
With rolling eye and crifped hair,
His chin hung low, his brow was sleek,
Plenty láy balking on his cheek;
Whole days at cloyster grates he fat,
Ogled, and talk'd of this and that
So feelingly; the Nuns lamented
That double bars were e'er invented.
If he the wanton wife confeft
With downcast eye, and heaving breast;
He stroak'd her cheek to still her fear,
And talk'd of fins en Cavalier.
Each time enjoin'd her penance mild,
And fondled on her like his child.
At ev'ry jovial goffip's feast
Pere Bernard was a welcome guest,
Mirth suffer'd not the least restraint,
He could at will shake off the saint:
Nor frown'd he when they freely spoke,
But shook his sides, and took the joke ;
Nor faild he to promote the jest,
And shar'd the fins which they confeft.

Yet that he might not always roam,
He kept conveniencies at home.
His maid was in the bloom of beauty,
Weil-limb'd for ev'ry social duty;
He meddled with no houshold cares,
To her confign'd his whole affairs ;

She

she of his study kept the keys,
For he was studious-of his ease :
She had the power of all his locks,
Could rummage ev'ry chest and box,
Her honesty fuch credit gain'd,
Not ey'n the cellar was reftrain’d.

In troth it was a goodly show,
Lin'd with full hogsheads all a-row;
One vessel, from the rank remov’d,
Far dearer than the rest he lov'd..
Pour la bonne bouche 'twas set aside,
To all but choiceft friends deny'd.
He now and then would send a quart,
To warm some wife's retentive heart,
Against confeffions sullen hour :
Wine has all secrets in its power.
At common feasts it had been waste,
Nor was it fit for layman's taste.
If monk or friar were his gueft, i
They drank it, for they know the best.
Nay, he at length fo fond was grown,
He always drank it when-alone.

Who shall recount his civil labours,
In pious visits to his neighbours ?
Whene'er weak husbands went aftray,
He guess’d their wives were in the way,
'Twas then his charity was shown,
He chose to see them when alone.

Now was he bent on cuckoldom :
He knew friend Dennis was from home;
His wife (a poor neglected beauty,
Defrauded of a husband's duty)
Had often told him at confession,
How hard the struggled 'gainst transgresions

He

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