He read how Arius to his friend complain'd A fatal tree was growing in his land, On which three wives successively had twined A sliding noose, and waver'd in the wind. 'Where grows this plant,' replied the friend, 'oh! where? For better fruit did never orchard bear: Give me some slip of this most blissful tree, And in my garden planted it shall be!' 400 Then how two wives their lords' destruction prove, Through hatred one, and one through too much love; That for her husband mix'd a poisonous draught, And this for lust an amorous philtre bought: The nimble juice soon seized his giddy head, Frantic at night, and in the morning dead. How some with swords their sleeping lords have slain, And some have hammer'd nails into their brain, And some have drench'd them with a deadly potion: All this he read, and read with great devotion. 410 Long time I heard, and swell'd, and blush'd, and frown'd; But when no end of these vile tales I found, When still he read, and laugh'd, and read again, And half the night was thus consumed in vain, Provoked to vengeance, three large leaves I tore, And with one buffet fell'd him on the floor. With that my husband in a fury rose, And down he settled me with hearty blows. I groan'd, and lay extended on my side; 'Oh! thou hast slain me for my wealth!' I cried, 420 'Yet I forgive thee--take my last embrace--' He wept, kind soul! and stoop'd to kiss my face: I took him such a box as turn'd him blue, Then sigh'd, and cried, 'Adieu, my dear, adieu!' But after many a hearty struggle past, I condescended to be pleased at last. Soon as he said, 'My mistress and my wife! Do what you list the term of all your life,' I took to heart the merits of the cause, And stood content to rule by wholesome laws; 430 Received the reins of absolute command, With all the government of house and land, And empire o'er his tongue and o'er his hand. As for the volume that reviled the dames, 'Twas torn to fragments, and condemn'd to flames. Now, Heaven, on all my husbands gone bestow Pleasures above for tortures felt below: That rest they wish'd for, grant them in the grave, And bless those souls my conduct help'd to save! PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUES A PROLOGUE TO A PLAY FOR MR DENNIS'S BENEFIT, IN 1733, WHEN HE WAS OLD, BLIND, AND IN GREAT DISTRESS, A LITTLE BEFORE HIS DEATH.