All I have said that's bad and true,
Was never meant to aim at you,
Who have so sov'reign a controul
O'er that poor slave of your's, my soul,
That, rather than to forfeit you,
Has ventur❜d loss of heav'n too;
Both with an equal pow'r possest,
To render all that serve you blest;
But none like him, who's destin'd either
To have or lose you both together;
And if you'll but this fault release,
For so it must be, since you please,
I'll pay down all that vow, and more,
Which you commanded, and I swore,
And expiate, upon my skin,
Th' arrears in full of all my sin:
For 'tis but just that I should pay
Th' accruing penance for delay,
Which shall be done, until it move
Your equal pity and your love.
The Knight, perusing this Epistle, Believ'd he 'ad brought her to his whistle; And read it, like a jocund lover,
With great applause, t' himself, twice over; 340
Subscrib'd his name, but at a fit
And humble distance, to his wit:
And dated it with wondrous art,
Giv'n from the bottom of his heart;
Then seal'd it with his coat of love,
A smoking faggot-and above
Upon a scroll-I burn, and weep-
And near it-For her ladyship,
Of all her sex most excellent,
These to her gentle hands present.o
Then gave it to his faithful squire,
With lessons how t' observe, and eye her.
She first consider'd which was better,
To send it back, or burn the letter:
But guessing that it might import,
Tho' nothing else, at least her sport,
She open'd it, and read it out,
With many a smile and leering flout:
Resolv'd to answer it in kind,
And thus perform'd what she design'd.
Of all her sex most excellent,
These to her gentle hands present.] It was fashionable before Mr. Butler's time to be prolix in the superscription of letters. Common forms were,-To my much honoured friend-To the most excellent lady-To my loving cousin These present with care and speed, &c.
THAT you're a beast and turn'd to grass,
Is no strange news, nor ever was;
At least to me, who once, you know,
Did from the pound replevin you,'
When both your sword and spurs were won
In combat, by an Amazon;
That sword that did, like fate, determine
Th' inevitable death of vermin,
Had not, on hon'rable conditions,
Releast 'em from the worst of prisons;
Did from the pound replevin you,] A replevin is a re-deliverance of the thing distrained, to remain with the first possessor on security.
And what return that favour met,
You cannot, tho' you wou'd forget;
When being free, you strove t' evade,
The oaths you had in prison made;
Forswore yourself, and first deny'd it,
But after own'd, and justify'd it:
And when y' had falsely broke one vow,
Absolv'd yourself, by breaking two.
For while you sneakingly submit,
And beg for pardon at our feet; 2
Discourag'd by your guilty fears,
To hope for quarter, for your ears;
And doubting 'twas in vain to sue,
You claim us boldly as your due,
Declare that treachery and force,
To deal with us, is th' only course;
We have no title nor pretence
To body, soul, or conscience,
But ought to fall to that man's share
That claims us for his proper ware:
These are the motives which, t' induce,
Or fright us into love, you use;
A pretty new way of gallanting,
Between soliciting and ranting;
Like sturdy beggars, that intreat
For charity at once, and threat.
But since you undertake to prove
Your own propriety in love,
2 And beg for pardon at our feet;] The widow, to keep up her dig
nity and importance, speaks of herself in the plural number.
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