Wife

Too much is this:—­such accusations grieve.

Husband

Thou did’st most clearly suffer his embrace.

Wife
I?  Why, you dream!

Husband

This seems a curious case. 
My reason’s flown’! or have I lost my eyes?

Wife

Can you suppose my character I prize
So very little, that these pranks I’d play
Before your face, when I might ev’ry day
Find minutes to divert myself at will,
And (if lik’d such frolicks) take my fill?

Husband

I know not what to think nor what to do;
P’rhaps this same tree can tricks at will pursue;
Let’s see again; aloft he went once more,
And William acted as he’d done before;
But now the husband saw the playful squeeze;
Without emotion, and returned at ease. 
To find the cause, said he, no longer try,
The tree’s enchanted, we may well rely.

          Since, that’s the fact, replied the cunning jade;
          To burn it, quickly William seek fort aid;
          The tree accurst no longer shall remain;
          Her will the servant wish’d not to restrain,
          But soon some workmen brought, who felled the tree;
          And wondered what the fault our fair could see. 
          Down hew it, cried the lady, that’s your task;
          More concerns you not; folly ’tis to ask.

          Oursecond gossip thus obtained success;
          But now the third:  we’ll see if she had less: 
          To female friends she often visits paid,
          And various pastimes there had daily play’d;
          A leering lover who was weary grown,
          Desired one night she’d meet him quite alone. 
          Two, if you will, replied the smiling fair;
          A trifle ’tis you ask, and I’ll repair
          Where’er you wish, and we’ll recline at ease;
          My husband I can manage, if I please,
          While thus engag’d.—­The parties soon agreed;
          But still the lady for her wits had need,
          Since her dear man from home but rarely went,
          No pardons sought at Rome, but was content
          With what he nearer got, while his sweet wife
          More fondness mark’d for gratifying life,
          And ever anxious, warmest zeal to show,
          Was always wishing distant scenes to know;
          As pilgrim oft she’d trod a foreign road,
          But now desir’d those ancient ways t’explode;
          A plan more rare and difficult she sought,
          And round her toe our wily dame bethought,
          To tie a pack-thread, fasten’d to the door,
          Which open’d to the street:  then feign’d to snore
          Beside her husband, Harry Berlinguier,
          (So, usually, they nam’d her wedded dear.)