Or that fome orphlines writings here be flor'd,
Or pot of gold laine deep beneath a board :
Or thinketh hem, if he might fee no sprite,
The Abbaye mought buy this house cheap outright.
As hem thus thinketh, anone asleep he lies,
Up ftarten 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 didst forget to guard thy poftern-door.
There is an hole which hath not croffed been:
Farewell, from whence I came, I creepen in.
Now plain it is ytellen in my verfe,

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

ATAL E.

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 Bagfhot-heath your mutton fed,
Your fowls at Brentford born and bred;
Though pureft wine your cellars boast,
Wine worthy of the fairest toast;
Yet there are other things requir'd:
Ring, and let's fee the maid you hir'd-
Blefs me! thofe hands might hold a broom,
Twirle round a mop, and wash a room :
A batchelor his maid should keep,
Not for that fervile ufe to fweep,
Let her his humour understand,
And turn to ev'ry thing her hand.
Get you a lafs that's young and tight,
Whofe arms are, like her
apron, white
What though her fhift be feldom seen

Let that, though coarfe, be always clean;

She

She might each morn your tea attend,
And on your wrift your ruffle mend;
Then if you break a roguish jeft,
Or fqueeze 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 fome prudish neighbour talk ?
But you'll object, that you're afraid
Of the pert freedoms of a maid;
Befides your wifer heads will fay,
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 fupplies,
Laces her shoes, her manteau dyes,
All her ftuff fuits the flings 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 fcow'rs or scrubs a floor,
And still is good for fomething more.

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

Το

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

But you're impatient all this time,
Fret at my counfel, curfe my rhyme.
Be fatisfy'd. I'll talk no more,
For thus my tale begins-Of yore
There dwelt at Blois a Prieft full fair,
With rolling eye and crifped hair,
His chin hung low, his brow was fleek,
Plenty lay basking on his cheek;
Whole days at cloyfter 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 downcaft eye, and heaving breast;
He ftroak'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 feaft
Pere Bernard was a welcome gueft,
Mirth fuffer'd not the least refraint,
He could at will shake off the faint:
Nor frown'd he when they freely spoke,
But fhook his fides, and took the joke;
Nor fail'd he to promote the jest,
And shar'd the fins which they confest.

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

She

She of his ftudy kept the keys,
For he was ftudious-of his ease:
She had the power of all his locks,
Could rummage ev'ry cheft and box,
Her honesty fuch credit gain'd,
Not ev❜n the cellar was reftrain'd.
In troth it was a goodly fhow,
Lin'd with full hogfheads all a-row;
One veffel, from the rank remov'd,
Far dearer than the rest he lov'd..
Pour la bonne bouche 'twas fet afide,
To all but choiceft friends deny'd..
He now and then would fend a quart,
To warm fome wife's retentive heart,
Against confeffion's fullen 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,
They drank it, for they know the beft.
Nay, he at length fo fond was grown,
He always drank it when—alone.

Who fhall recount his civil labours,
In pious vifits 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 confeffion,

How hard she struggled 'gainft tranfgreffion

He