Three days remain’d their friend, and then again The Brothers left themselves to entertain; When spake the younger--“It would please me well To hear thy spinster-friend her story tell; And our attention would be nobly paid Thus to compare the Bachelor and Maid.” “Frank as she is,” replied the squire, “nor one Is more disposed to show what she has done With time, or time with her: yet all her care And every trial she might not declare 10 To one a stranger; but to me, her friend, She has the story of those trials penn’d; These shalt thou hear, for well the maid I know, And will her efforts and her conquests show. Jacques is abroad, and we alone shall dine, And then to give this lady’s tale be mine; Thou wilt attend to this good spinster’s life, And grieve and wonder she is not a wife; But if we judge by either words or looks, Her mode of life, her morals, or her books, 20 Her pure devotion, unaffected sense, Her placid air, her mild benevolence, Her gay good humour, and her manners free, She is as happy as a maid can be; If as a wife, I know not, and decline Question like this, till I can judge of thine.” Then from a secret hoard drew forth the squire } His tale, and said, “Attention I require-- } My verse you may condemn, my theme you must admire.” } * * * * * I to your kindness speak, let that prevail, 30 And of my frailty judge as beings frail.---- My father, dying, to my mother left An infant charge, of all things else bereft; Poor, but experienced in the world, she knew What others did, and judged what she could do; Beauty she justly weigh’d, was never blind To her own interest, and she read mankind: She view’d my person with approving glance, And judged the way my fortune to advance; Taught me betimes that person to improve, 40 And make a lawful merchandize of love; Bade me my temper in subjection keep, And not permit my vigilance to sleep; I was not one, a miss, who might presume Now to be crazed by mirth, now sunk in gloom; Nor to be fretful, vapourish, or give way To spleen and anger, as the wealthy may; But I must please, and all I felt of pride, Contempt, and hatred, I must cast aside. “Have not one friend,” my mother cried, “not one; 50 That bane of our romantic triflers shun; Suppose her true, can she afford you aid? Suppose her false, your purpose is betray’d; And then in dubious points, and matters nice, How can you profit by a child’s advice? While you are writing on from post to post, Your hour is over, and a man is lost; Girls of their hearts are scribbling, their desires, And what the folly of the heart requires,