When Inclination strongly teizes,
Which End soever first it seizes,
O'er the whole Mortal 'twill prevail:
Tho' ne'er so sure as in the Tail — —
Here it maintains a constant Party;
The outward Members all are hearty;
Queen Understanding quits her Seat;
Reason and Judgment sound Retreat;
While Fancy takes Frank Osborn 's Part,
To dish the Action out with Art.

A Widow Prude had often swore
No Breeches should approach her more:
Had often prov'd that second Marriage
Was ten times worse than Maid's Miscarriage:
And always told them of their Sin,
When Widows would be Wives agen — —
Women, who'd thus themselves abuse,
Should die, she thought, like Harlot Jews —
Let her alone to throw the Stones —
If 'twere but Law — — she'd make no Bones.

Long had she led a Life demure,
Of her good Character secure,
When calling up her Servant Ned ,
She frown'd upon him first, then said — —

Shame of my House! I understand,
From a good creditable Hand,
That you and Isabell my Maid
Drive an abominable Trade!
But t'other Day you both were seen
A doing — — you know what I mean: —
The Story, Knave, begins to ring
In ev'ry Ear — — a pretty Thing!
On me the Scandal's like to fix,
And G — d knows I abhor such Tricks!
'Twere better, Sirrah, you were dead,
Than such a Falshood should be spread!

Ned star'd with all the Eyes he had,
And thought the Gentlewoman mad —
'Twas known that Isabell and he
Could never in their Lives agree — —
And whence, and how this Charge should rise,
He could not, for his Soul, devise — —
Yet recollecting all his Strength,
He bow'd, and thus reply'd — — at length — —

Madam, whoe'er this Tale might foster
As sure as Satan dwells in Gloster ,
'Tis all maliciously design'd
Against poor Ned to turn your Mind — —
For so may Heav'n my Wants supply,
As ev'ry Tittle proves a Lie!
Yet, with Submission, if 'twere true,
Methinks, 'tis something odd that you,
Whose Life's a Pattern to the Times,
Should fear a Scandal from my Crimes — —

Scarce had he spoke, when all in Tears,
With blubber'd Cheeks, the Dame appears:
She sighs, she sobs, she wipes her Eyes,
And in pathetic Accents cries — —

Alas! dear Ned , what Times are these!
I long for Death, if Heav'n would please!
This wicked World, how I abhor it!
Would I could have a better for it!
My Husband — — Ah that dearest Man!
Forget his Love I never can — —
He took such Care of my good Name!
And put all slanderous Tongues to Shame!
But ah! he's dead! — — Here Crief amain
Came bubbling up, and stopt the Strain — —

Ned was no Fool, he saw his Cue,
And how to use good Fortune knew — —
Old Opportunity at Hand,
He seiz'd the Lock, and bid him stand —
Urg'd of what Use a Husband was,
To vindicate a Woman's Cause;
Exclaim'd against the sland'rous Age,
And swore he could his Soul engage
That Madam was so free from Fault,
She ne'er so much as sin'd in Thought:
Vowing he'd lose each Drop of Blood,
To make that just Assertion good.

This Logic, which well pleas'd the Dame,
At the same Time eludes her Shame:
A Husband for a Husband's Sake,
Was what she'd ne'er consent to take;
Yet as the Age was so censorious,
And Ned 's Proposals were so glorious,
She thought 'twas best to take upon her
A second Guardian of her Honour.