Nor waived for man's caprice the sex's pride. There is a season when to them is due Worship and awe, and they will claim it too: "Fathers," they cry, "long hold us in their chain, Nay, tyrant brothers claim a right to reign: Uncles and guardians we in turn obey, And husbands rule with ever-during sway; Short is the time when lovers at the feet Of beauty kneel, and own the slavery sweet; And shall we thus our triumph, this the aim And boast of female power, forbear to claim? No! we demand that homage, that respect, Or the proud rebel punish and reject." Our Hero, still too indolent, too nice, To pay for beauty the accustom'd price, No less forbore t'address the humbler maid, Who might have yielded with the price unpaid; But lived, himself to humour and to please, To count his money, and enjoy his ease. It pleased a neighbouring 'squire to recommend A faithful youth as servant to his friend; Nay, more than servant, whom he praised for parts Ductile yet strong, and for the best of hearts: One who might ease him in his small affairs, With tenants, tradesmen, taxes, and repairs; Answer his letters, look to all his dues, And entertain him with discourse and news. The 'Squire believed, and found the trusted youth A very pattern for his care and truth; Not for his virtues to be praised alone, But for a modest mien and humble tone; Assenting always, but as if he meant Only to strength of reasons to assent: For was he stubborn, and retain'd his doubt, Till the more subtle 'Squire had forced it out; Nay, still was right, but he perceived that strong And powerful minds could make the right the wrong. When the 'Squire's thoughts on some fair damsel dwelt, The faithful Friend his apprehensions felt; It would rejoice his faithful heart to find A lady suited to his master's mind; But who deserved that master? who would prove That hers was pure, uninterested love? Although a servant, he would scorn to take A countess, till she suffer'd for his sake; Some tender spirit, humble, faithful, true, Such, my dear master! must be sought for you. Six months had pass'd, and not a lady seen, With just this love, 'twixt fifty and fifteen; All seem'd his doctrine or his pride to shun, All would be woo'd before they would be won; When the chance naming of a race and fair Our 'Squire disposed to take his pleasure there, The Friend profess'd, "although he first began To hint the thing, it seem'd a thoughtless plan; The roads, he fear'd, were foul, the days were short, The village far, and yet there might be sport." "What! you of roads and starless nights afraid? You think to govern! you to be obey'd!" Smiling he spoke: the humble Friend declared His soul's obedience, and to go prepared. The place was distant, but with great delight They saw a race, and hail'd the glorious sight: The 'Squire exulted, and declared the ride Had amply paid, and he was satisfied. They gazed, they feasted, and, in happy mood, Homeward return'd, and hastening as they rode;