And begg’d her to have pity on her youth; Youth, he would say, and he desired his wife 380 To have the comforts of an easy life. She loved a carriage, loved a decent seat To which they might at certain times retreat; Servants indeed were sorrows—yet a few They still must add, and do as others do; She too would some attendant damsel need, To hear, to speak, to travel, or to read.” In short, the man his remedies assign’d For his foreknown diseases in the mind:— “First,” he presumed, “that in a nervous case 390 Nothing was better than a change of place;” He added, too, “’Twas well that he could prove That his was pure, disinterested love; Not as when lawyers couple house and land In such a way as none can understand: No! thanks to Him that every good supplied, He had enough, and wanted nought beside! Merit was all.” “Well! now, she would protest, This was a letter prettily express’d.” To every female friend away she flew 400 To ask advice, and say, “What shall I do?” She kiss’d her children—and she said, with tears, “I wonder what is best for you, my dears? How can I, darlings, to your good attend } Without the help of some experienced friend, } Who will protect us all, or, injured, will defend?” } The widow then ask’d counsel of her heart— In vain, for that had nothing to impart; But yet with that, or something, for her guide, She to her swain thus guardedly replied: 410 “She must believe he was sincere, for why Should one who needed nothing deign to lie? But though she could and did his truth admit, She could not praise him for his taste a bit; And yet men’s tastes were various, she confess’d, And none could prove his own to be the best; It was a vast concern, including all That we can happiness or comfort call; And yet she found that those who waited long Before their choice, had often chosen wrong. 420 Nothing, indeed, could for her loss atone, But ’twas the greater that she lived alone; She, too, had means, and therefore what the use Of more, that still more trouble would produce? And pleasure too she own’d, as well as care, Of which, at present, she had not her share. “The things he offer’d, she must needs confess, They were all women’s wishes, more or less; But were expensive—though a man of sense Would by his prudence lighten the expense. 430 Prudent he was, but made a sad mistake When he proposed her faded face to take; And yet ’tis said there’s beauty that will last When the rose withers and the bloom be past. “One thing displeased her—that he could suppose He might so soon his purposes disclose; Yet had she hints of such intent before, And would excuse him if he wrote no more. What would the world—and yet she judged them fools Who let the world’s suggestions be their rules; 440 What would her friends—Yet in her own affairs