Beneath the window was a toilet spread,
And a fire gleam'd upon a crimson bed.'
He paused, he rose; with troubled joy the
wife

Felt the new era of her changeful life;
Frankness and love appear'd in Stafford's
face,

And all her trouble to delight gave place.

Twice made the guest an effort to sustain
Her feelings, twice resumed her seat in vain,
Nor could suppress her shame, nor could
support her pain:

Quick she retired, and all the dismal night
Thought of her guilt, her folly, and her flight;
Then sought unseen her miserable home,
To think of comforts lost, and brood on wants

to come.

TALE XVII. RESENTMENT

He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity;
Yet, notwithstanding, being incensed, he 's
flint..

His temper, therefore, must be well observed.
2 Henry IV, Act iv, Scene 4.
Three or four wenches where I stood cried-

Alas! good soul!' and forgave him with all

their hearts: but there's no heed to be taken
of them; if Caesar had stabb'd their mothers,
they would have done no less.

Julius Caesar, Act i, Scene 2.
How dost? ... Art cold?

I'm cold myself Where is this straw, my

fellow?

The husband duly on the quay was seen,
The wife at home became at length serene ;
There in short time the social couple grew
With all acquainted, friendly with a few ;
When the good lady, by disease assail'd,
In vain resisted-hope and science fail'd:
Then spake the female friends, by pity led,
'Poor merchant Paul! what think ye? will
he wed?

quiet, easy, kind, religious man,
Thus can he rest ?—I wonder if he can.'

He too, as grief subsided in his mind, Gave place to notions of congenial kind; Grave was the man, as we have told before; His years were forty-he might pass for more; Composed his features were, his stature low, King Lear, Act iii, Scene 2. His air important, and his motion slow;

The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious.

FEMALES there are of unsuspicious mind,
Easy and soft, and credulous and kind;
Who, when offended for the twentieth time,
Will hear th' offender and forgive the crime :
And there are others whom, like these to cheat,
Asks but the humblest effort of deceit;
But they, once injured, feel a strong disdain,
And, seldom pardoning, never trust again;
Urged by religion, they forgive-but yet
Guard the warm heart, and never more forget:
Those are like wax-apply them to the fire,
Melting, they take th' impressions you desire;
Easy to mould, and fashion as you please,
And again moulded with an equal ease:
Like smelted iron these the forms retain,
But once impress'd will never melt again.
A busy port a serious merchant made
His chosen place to recommence his trade;
And brought his lady, who, their children
dead,

Their native seat of recent sorrow fled :

His dress became him, it was neat and plain,
The colour purple, and without a stain;
His words were few, and special was his care
In simplest terms his purpose to declare;
No man more civil, sober, and discreet,
More grave and courteous, you could seldom
meet:

Though frugal he, yet sumptuous was his
board,

As if to prove how much he could afford;
For though reserved himself, he loved to see
His table plenteous, and his neighbours free :
Among these friends he sat in solemn style,
And rarely soften'd to a sober smile;
For this observant friends their reasons
gave-

'Concerns so vast would make the idlest grave;
And for such man to be of language free,
Would seem incongruous as a singing tree:
Trees have their music, but the birds they
shield

The pleasing tribute for protection yield;

Each ample tree the tuneful choir defends, As this rich merchant cheers his happy friends!'

She liked his manners, and believed his word;

He did not flatter, flattery she abhorr'd:
It was her happy lot in peace to dwell-

In the same town it was his chance to meet Would change make better what was now so A gentle lady, with a mind discreet;

well?

was kind,'

And begg'd to know when she had fix'd her mind.'

Romantic maidens would have scorn'd the

Neither in life's decline, nor bloom of youth, But she would ponder.' This,' he said,
One fam'd for maiden modesty and truth:
By nature cool, in pious habits bred,
She look'd on lovers with a virgin's dread:
Deceivers, rakes, and libertines were they,
And harmless beauty their pursuit and prey;
As bad as giants in the ancient times
Were modern lovers, and the same their
crimes :

Soon as she heard of her all-conquering
charms,

At once she fled to her defensive arms;
Conn'd o'er the tales her maiden aunt had told,
And, statue-like, was motionless and cold;
From prayer of love, like that Pygmalion
pray'd,

air,

And the cool prudence of a mind so fair;
But well it pleased this wiser maid to find
Her own mild virtues in her lover's mind.

His worldly wealth she sought, and quickly

grew

Pleased with her search, and happy in the

view

Of vessels freighted with abundant stores, Of rooms whose treasures press'd the groaning floors;

Ere the hard stone became the yielding And he of clerks and servants could display

maid

A different change in this chaste nymph ensued,

And turn'd to stone the breathing flesh and blood:

Whatever youth described his wounded heart,
'He came to rob her, and she scorn'd his art;
And who of raptures once presumed to speak,
Told listening maids he thought them fond
and weak:

But should a worthy man his hopes display
In few plain words, and beg a yes or nay,
He would deserve an answer just and plain,
Since adulation only moved disdain-
Sir, if my friends object not, come again.'
Hence, our grave lover, though he liked the
face,

Praised not a feature-dwelt not on a grace;
But in the simplest terms declared his state,
'A widow'd man, who wish'd a virtuous mate;
Who fear'd neglect, and was compell'd to

A little army, on a public day:

Was this a man like needy bard to speak
Of balmy lip, bright eye, or rosy cheek?

The sum appointed for her widow'd state,
Fix'd by her friend, excited no debate;
Then the kind lady gave her hand and heart,
And, never finding, never dealt with art:
In his engagements she had no concern;
He taught her not, nor had she wish to learn:
On him in all occasions she relied,

His word her surety, and his worth her
pride.

When ship was launch'd, and merchant

Paul had share,

From all control, her own the act and deed, The poorest school; the very streets would And forasmuch '--said she, 'I've

There! -Now be ready when we meet to But from his meanness she resolved to part.' dine.'

Meantime the wife-but she abjured the

name

;

Then came a spoiler, who, with villain-art, Implored her hand, and agonized her heart Endured her lot, and struggled with the He seized her purse, in idle waste to spend With a vile woman, whom she call'd her

shame;

When lo! an uncle on the mother's side,
In nature something, as in blood allied,
Admired her firmness, his protection gave,
And show'd a kindness she disdain'd to crave.
Frugal and rich the man, and frugal grew
The sister-mind, without a selfish view;
And further still-the temp'rate pair agreed
With what they saved the patient poor to
feed:

His whole estate, when to the grave consign'd,
Left the good kinsman to the kindred mind;
Assured that law, with spell secure and tight,
Had fix'd it as her own peculiar right.

Now to her ancient residence removed,
She lived as widow, well endow'd and loved;
Decent her table was, and to her door
Came daily welcomed the neglected poor :
The absent sick were soothed by her relief,
As her free bounty sought the haunts of grief;
A plain and homely charity had she,
And loved the objects of her alms to see;
With her own hands she dress'd the savoury
meat,

With her own fingers wrote the choice receipt;
She heard all tales that injured wives relate,
And took a double interest in their fate;
But of all husbands not a wretch was known
So vile, so mean, so cruel, as her own.

This bounteous lady kept an active spy,
To search th' abodes of want, and to supply;
The gentle Susan served the liberal dame-
Unlike their notions, yet their deeds the same:
No practised villain could a victim find,
Than this stern lady more completely blind;
Nor (if detected in his fraud) could meet
One less disposed to pardon a deceit ;
The wrong she treasured, and on no pretence
Received th' offender, or forgot th' offence:
But the kind servant, to the thrice-proved
knave

A fourth time listen'd, and the past forgave.
First in her youth, when she was blithe and
gay,

friend;

Five years she suffer'd-he had revell'd five-
Then came to show her he was just alive;
Alone he came, his vile companion dead;
And he, a wand'ring pauper, wanting bread;
His body wasted, wither'd life and limb,
When this kind soul became a slave to him;
Nay, she was sure that, should he now survive,
No better husband would be left alive;
For him she mourn'd, and then, alone and
poor,

Sought and found comfort at her lady's door:
Ten years she served, and, mercy her employ,
Her tasks were pleasure, and her duty joy.

Thus lived the mistress and the maid,
design'd

Each other's aid-one cautious, and both
kind :

Oft at their window, working, they would sigh
To see the aged and the sick go by ;
Like wounded bees, that at their home arrive,
Slowly and weak, but labouring for the hive.
The busy people of a mason's yard
The curious lady view'd with much regard;
With steady motion she perceived them
draw

Through blocks of stone the slowly-working

saw;

It gave her pleasure and surprise to see
Among these men the signs of revelry:
Cold was the season, and confined their view,
Tedious their tasks, but merry were the crew:
There she beheld an aged pauper wait,
Patient and still, to take an humble freight;
Within the panniers on an ass he laid
The ponderous grit, and for the portion paid;
This he re-sold, and, with each trifling gift,
Made shift to live, and wretched was the shift.
Now will it be by every reader told
Who was this humble trader, poor and old.--
In vain an author would a name suppress,
From the least hint a reader learns to guess;
Of children lost, our novels sometimes treat,

Came a smooth rogue, and stole her love away; We never care-assured again to meet :
Then to another and another flew,

To boast the wanton mischief he could do: Yet she forgave him, though so great her pain,

That she was never blithe or gay again.

In vain the writer for concealment tries,
We trace his purpose under all disguise;
Nay, though he tells us they are dead and

gone,

Of whom we wot-they will appear anon;

For some remains of spirit, temper, pride,
Forbade a prayer he knew would be denied.
Thus was the grieving man, with burthen'd He freezes as he moves-he dies! if he should