THE lover from the belle at length arose, And hastened to his house to seek repose; But scarcely had he placed himself in bed, When our good husband's footsteps thither led; He, to the spark, related with delight, How mandrake-juice succeeded in the night. Said he, at first beside the bed I crept, And listened if the miller near her kept, Or whether he to converse was inclined, And ev'ry way to act as was designed. I then my wife was anxious to address, And whispered that she should the youth caress; Nor dread too much the spoiling of her charms: Indeed 'twas all embarrassing alarms. Don't think, said I, that either can deceive; I ev'ry thing shall hear, you may believe; Know, Nicia is a man, who well may say, He's trusted without measure ev'ry day. PRAY recollect my very life 's at stake, And do not many difficulties make. Convince thereby how much your spouse you love; 'Twill pleasure doubtless give the pow'rs above. But should the blockhead any how prove shy Send instantly to me; I shall be nigh; I'm going now to rest; by no means fail; We'll soon contrive and ev'ry way prevail. But there was no necessity for this; 'Tis pretty clear that nothing went amiss. In fact the rustick liked the business well, And seemed unwilling to resign the belle, I pity him, and much lament his lot; But--he must die and soon will be forgot: A fig for those who used to crack their jest; In nine months' time a child will be the test. THE RHEMESE NO city I to Rheims would e'er prefer: Of France the pride and honour I aver; The Holy Ampoule * and delicious wine, Which ev'ry one regards as most divine, We'll set apart, and other objects take: The beauties round a paradise might make! I mean not tow'rs nor churches, gates, nor streets; But charming belles with soft enchanting sweets: Such oft among the fair Rhemese we view: Kings might be proud those graces to pursue. ONE 'mong these belles had to the altar led, A painter, much esteemed, and who had bread. What more was requisite!--he lived at ease, And by his occupation sought to please. A happy woman all believed his wife; The husband's talents pleased her to the life: For gallantry howe'er he was renowned, And many am'rous dames, who dwelled around, Would seek the artist with a double aim: So all our chronicles record his fame. But since much penetration 's not my boast, I just believe--what's requisite at most.