Of all his toil, he reap'd no wifhed fruit,
For with my wrangling I withstood his fuit.
At length I was reftor'd, untouch'd, and clear;
In all my Rape, I fuffer'd nought fave fear :
A few untoward kiffes he (God wot)
Of further favours he could never boaft;
Dry, without relifh, by much striving got,
And them with much ado, and to his coft.
I doubt your purpofe aims at greater bliffes,
And hardly would alone be pleas'd with kiffes.
Thou haft fome further aim, and feek'ft to do
What, Jove defend, I fhould confent unto.
He bore not thy bad mind, but did restore me
Unblemish'd to the place from whence he bore me.
The youth was bafhful, and thy boldness lack'd,
And 'tis well known, repented his bold fact.
Thefeus repented, fo fhould Paris do,
Succeed in love and in repentance too,
Nor am I angry; who can angry be
With him that loves her? if your heart agree
With your kind words, your fuit I could applaud,
So I
were fure your lines were void of fraud.
I caft not these ftrange doubts, or this difpenfe,
Like one that were bereft all confidence
Nor that I with myfelf am in difgrace,
Or do not know the beauty of my
face:
But becaufe too much truft hath damag'd fuch
As have believ'd men in their loves too much.
And now the general tongue of women faith,
Mens words are full of treason, void of faith.

Let others fin, and hours of pleafures wafte, 'Tis rare to find the fober matron chafte. Why? fay it be that fin prevails with fair ones, May not my name be rank❜d among the rare ones?

Because my mother Lada was beguil'd,
Muft I ftray too, that am her eldest child?
I must confefs my mother made a rape,
But Jove beguil'd her in a borrow'd fhape:
When the (poor foul) nor dreamt of god nor man,
He trod her like a milk-white feather'd swan.
She was deceiv'd by error; if I yield

To your unjust requeft, nothing can fhield
Me from reproach; I cannot plead concealing :
'Twas in her, error; 'tis in me, plain dealing,
She happily err'd; he that her honour spilt,
Had in himself full power to falve the guilt.
Her error happy'd me too (I confess)
If to be Jove's child, be a happiness.

T'omit high fove, of whom I ftand in awe,
As the great grandfire to our father-in-law;
To pafs the kin I claim from Tantalus,
From Pelops, and from noble Tindarus ;
Lada by Jove, in fhape of fwan, beguil'd,
Herfelf fo chang'd, and by him made with child,
Proves Jove my father. Then you idly strive,
Your name from gods and princes to derive.
What need you of old Priam make relation,
Laomedon, or your great Phrygian nation?
Say all be true; what then? He of whom moft
To be of your alliance, you so boast,
Jove (five degrees at least) from you removed,
To be the firft from me, is plainly proved.
And tho' (as I believ'd well) Troy may ftand
Powerful by fea, and full of ftrength by land;
And no dominion to your ftate fuperior,
Į hold our clime nothing to Troy inferior.

Say, you in riches pafs us, or in number
Of people, whom you boast your streets to cumber;
Yet yours a barbarous nation is, I tell you,
And in that kind do we of Greece excel you.
Your rich epiftle doth fuch gifts prefent,
As might the goddeffes themselves content,
And woo them to your pleasure: but if I
Shall pafs the bounds of fhame, and tread awry;
If ever you fhould put me to my fhifts,
Yourself should move me more than all your gifts.
Or if I ever fhall tranfgrefs by stealth,
It fhall be for your fake, not for
But as your gifts I fcorn not, fo fuch feem
Moft precious, where the giver we esteem.
More than your prefents it fhall Helen please,
That you for her have paft the ftormy feas;
That the hath caus'd your toil, that you refpect her,
And more than all your Trojan dames affect her.

your

wealth.

But you're a wag in troth, the notes and figns You make at table, in the meats and wines, I have obferv'd, when I leaft feem'd to mind them, For at the first my curious eye did find them. Sometimes (you wanton) your fix'd eye advances His brightness against mine, darting fweet glances, Out-gazing me with fuch a ftedfaft look, That my daz'd eyes their fplendor have forfook; And then you figh, and by and by you ftretch Your amorous arm outright, the bowl to reach, That next me ftands, making excufe to fip Juft in the felf-fame place that kiss'd my lip. How oft have I obferv'd your finger make Tricks and conceited figns, which ftrait I take?

How often doth your brow your smooth thoughts cloke
When, to my feeming, it hath almost spoke?
And still I fear'd my husband would have fpy'd you;
In troth you are to blame, and I must chide you.
You are too manifest a lover (tush)

At fuch known figns I could not chufe but blush.
And to myself I oft was forc'd to say,

This man at nothing fhames. Is this (I pray)
Ought fave the truth? Oft-times upon the board
Where Helen was engraven, you the word
Amo have underwrit, in new-fpilt wine:
(Good footh) at firft I could not fcan the line,
Nor understand your meaning. Now (oh! spite)
Myfelf am now taught fo to read and write.
Should I offend, as fin to me is strange,
Thefe blandifhments have power chafte thoughts to
Or if I could be mov'd to ftep aftray,

[change.

These would provoke me to lafcivious play:
Befides, I must confefs, you have a face

So admirable rare, fo full of grace,

That it hath power to woo, and to make feizure
Of the most bright chafte beauties to your pleasure.
Yet had I rather ftainless keep my fame,
Than to a ftranger hazard my good name.
Make me your inftance, and forbear the fair;
Of that which moft doth please you, make most spare.
The greatest virtues, of which wife men boast,
Is to abstain from that which pleaseth most.
How many gallant youths (think you) defire
That which you covet, fcorch'd with the felf-fame fire?
Are all the world fools? only Paris wife?
Or is there none, fave you, have judging eyes?
No, no, you view no more than others fee,
But you are plainer and more bold with me.

You are more earneft to pursue your game;
I yield you not more knowledge, but lefs fhame,
I would to God that you had fail'd from Troy,
When my virginity and bed to enjoy,

A thoufand gallant princely fuiters came:
Had I beheld young Paris, I proclaim,
Of all thofe thoufand I had made you chief,
And Spartan Menelaus, to his grief,

Should to my cenfure have subfcrib'd and yielded.
But now (alas!) your hopes are weakly builded:
You covet goods poffefs'd, pleasures foretafted;
Tardy you come, that fhould before have hafted;
What you defire, another claims as due:
As I could wifh t' have been efpous'd to you,
So let me tell you, fince it is my fate,

I hold me happy in my prefent ftate.
Then ceafe, fair prince, an idle fuit to move,
Seek not to harm her, whom you seem to love.
In my contented ftate let me be guided,
As both my ftates and fortunes have provided;
Nor in fo vain a queft your fpirits toil,
To feek at my hands an unworthy spoil.

But fee how foon poor women are deluded,
Venus herself this covenant hath concluded:
For in the Idean vallies you efpy

Three goddeffes, ftrip'd naked to your eye;
And when the firft had promis'd you a crown,
The fecond fortitude and war's renown;
The third befpake you thus; crown, nor war's pride,
Will I bequeath, but Helen to thy bride.
I fcarce believe, thofe high immortal creatures
Would to your eye expose their naked features.