And so affect t’ obey till she begins to reign; } Awhile complying, she may vary then, And be as wives of more unwary men; Beside, to him who plays such lordly part, How shall a tender creature yield her heart? Should he the promised confidence refuse, She may another more confiding choose; May show her anger, yet her purpose hide, 40 And wake his jealousy, and wound his pride. In one so humbled, who can trace the friend? I on an equal, not a slave, depend; If true, my confidence is wisely placed, And, being false, she only is disgraced.” Clubb, with these notions, cast his eye around, And one so easy soon a partner found. The lady chosen was of good repute; Meekness she had not, and was seldom mute; Though quick to anger, still she loved to smile; 50 And would be calm if men would wait awhile: She knew her duty, and she loved her way, More pleased in truth to govern than obey; She heard her priest with reverence, and her spouse As one who felt the pressure of her vows. Useful and civil, all her friends confess’d-- Give her her way, and she would choose the best; Though some indeed a sly remark would make-- Give it her not, and she would choose to take. All this, when Clubb some cheerful months had spent, 60 He saw, confess’d, and said he was content. Counter meantime selected, doubted, weigh’d, And then brought home a young complying maid-- A tender creature, full of fears as charms, A beauteous nursling from its mother’s arms; A soft, sweet blossom, such as men must love, But to preserve must keep it in the stove. She had a mild, subdued, expiring look-- Raise but the voice, and this fair creature shook; Leave her alone, she felt a thousand fears-- 70 Chide, and she melted into floods of tears; Fondly she pleaded and would gently sigh, For very pity, or she knew not why; One whom to govern none could be afraid-- Hold up the finger, this meek thing obey’d; Her happy husband had the easiest task-- Say but his will, no question would she ask; She sought no reasons, no affairs she knew, Of business spoke not, and had nought to do. Oft he exclaim’d, “How meek! how mild! how kind! 80 With her ’twere cruel but to seem unkind; Though ever silent when I take my leave, It pains my heart to think how hers will grieve; ’Tis heaven on earth with such a wife to dwell, I am in raptures to have sped so well; But let me not, my friend, your envy raise, No! on my life, your patience has my praise.” His friend, though silent, felt the scorn implied-- “What need of patience?” to himself he cried: “Better a woman o’er her house to rule, 90 Than a poor child just hurried from her school: Who has no care, yet never lives at ease;