KATE had too often play’d the fool, And now, at length, was caught; For she, who had been pleas’d to rule, Was now, poor Maiden, taught! And STEPHEN rul’d with boundless sway, The rustic tyrant of his day. LUBIN had giv’n inconstant KATE, _Ten pounds_, to buy her wedding geer: And now, ’tis said, tho’ somewhat late, He thought his bargain rather dear. For, Lo! The day before the pair Had fix’d, the marriage chain to wear, A GYPSY gang, a wand’ring set, In a lone wood young LUBIN met. All round him press with canting tale, And, in a jargon, well design’d To cheat the unsuspecting mind, His list’ning ears assail. Some promis’d riches; others swore He should, by women, be ador’d; And never sad, and never poor— Live like a Squire, or Lord;— Do what he pleas’d, and ne’er be brought To shame,—for what he did, or thought; Seduce men’s wives and daughters fair, Spend wealth, while others toil’d in vain, And scoff at honesty, and swear,— _And scoff, and trick, and swear again!_ ONE roguish Girl, with sparkling eyes, To win the handsome LUBIN tries; She smil’d, and by her speaking glance, Enthrall’d him in a wond’ring trance; He thought her lovelier far than KATE, And wish’d that she had been his mate; For when the FANCY is on wing, VARIETY’s a dangerous thing: And PASSIONS, when they learn to stray Will seldom seldom keep the beaten way. The gypsy girl, with speaking eyes, Observ’d her pupil’s fond surprize, She begg’d that he her hand would cross, With Sixpence; and that He should know His future scene of gain and loss, His weal and woe.—