Ourenvoy kept two books, in which he wrote
          The names of all the married pairs of note;
          But that assigned to couples satisfied,
          He scarcely for it could a name provide,
          Which made the demon almost blush to see,
          How few, alas! in wedlock’s chains agree;
          While presently the other, which contained
          Th’ unhappy—­not a leaf in blank remained.

          No other choice Belphegor now had got,
          Than—­try himself the hymeneal knot. 
          In Florence he beheld a certain fair,
          With charming face and smart engaging air;
          Of noble birth, but puffed with empty pride;
          Some marks of virtue, though not much beside. 
          For Roderick was asked this lofty dame;
          The father said Honesta* (such her name)
          Had many eligible offers found;
          But, ’mong the num’rous band that hovered round,
          Perhaps his daughter, Rod’rick’s suit might take,
          Though he should wish for time the choice to make. 
          This approbation met, and Rod’rick ’gan
          To use his arts and execute his plan.

          Theentertainments, balls, and serenades,
          Plays, concerts, presents, feasts, and masquerades,
          Much lessened what the demon with him brought;
          He nothing grudged:—­whate’er was wished he bought. 
          The dame believed high honour she bestowed,
          When she attention to his offer showed;
          And, after prayers, entreaties, and the rest,
          To be his wife she full assent expressed.

But first a pettifogger to him came, Of whom (aside) Belphegor made a game; What! said the demon, is a lady gained just like a house?—­these scoundrels have obtained Such pow’r and sway, without them nothing’s done; But hell will get them when their course is run.  He reasoned properly; when faith’s no more, True honesty is forced to leave the door; When men with confidence no longer view Their fellow-mortals,—­happiness adieu!  The very means we use t’ escape the snare, Oft deeper plunge us in the gulph of care; Avoid attorneys, if you comfort crave Who knows a pettifogger, knows a knave; Their contracts, filled with IFS and Fors, appear The gate through which Strife found admittance here.  In vain we hope again the earth ’twill leave Still Strife remains, and we ourselves deceive:  In spite of solemn forms and laws we see, That love and Hymen often disagree.  The heart alone can tranquilize the mind; In mutual passion ev’ry bliss we find.

          Howdiff’rent things in other states appear! 
          With friends—­’tis who can be the most sincere;
          With lovers—­all is sweetness, balm of life;
          While all is irksomeness with man and wife. 
          We daily see from Duty springs disgust,
          And pleasure likes true Liberty to trust.