Such pleasure to a friend I would not sell;
          Convince me that she’s your’s, and all is well;
          For if another I to you should give,
          (And many that I’ve taken with me live,)
          I surely should incur a heavy blame;
          I lately captur’d one, a charming dame,
          With auburn locks, a little fat, tall, young;
          If she declare she does to you belong,
          When you she’s seen, I will the belle concede;
          You’ll take her instantly; I’ll not impede.

          Thesage replied, your conduct’s truly wise;
          Such wond’rous kindness fills me with surprise;
          But since ’tis said that every trade must live,
          The sum just mention:—­I’ll the ransom give;
          No compliment I wish, my purse behold
          You know the money presently is told;
          Consider me a stranger now I pray;
          With you I’d equal probity display,
          And so will act, I swear, as you shall see;
          There ’s not a doubt the fair will go with me;
          My word for this I would not have you take:—­
          You’ll see how happy ’twill the lady make
          To find me here; to my embrace she’ll fly;
          My only fears—­that she of joy will die. 
          To them the charmer now was instant brought,
          Who eyed her husband as beneath a thought;
          Received him coldly, just as if he’d been
          A stranger from Peru, she ne’er had seen.

          Look, said Quinzica, she’s ashamed ’tis plain
          So many lookers on her love restrain;
          But be assured, if we were left alone,
          Around my neck her arms would soon be thrown.

          Ifthis, replied the pirate, you believe,
          Attend her toilet:—­naught can then deceive. 
          Away they went, and closely shut the door;
          When Richard said, thou darling of my store,
          How can’st thou thus behave? my pretty dove,
          ’Tis thy Quinzica, come to seek his love,
          In all the same, except about his wife;
          Dost in this face a change observe my life? 
          ’Tis grieving for thy loss that makes me ill;
          Did ever I in aught deny thy will? 
          In dress or play could any thee exceed? 
          And had’st thou not whatever thou might’st need? 
          To please thee, oft I made myself a slave;
          Such thou art now; but thee again I crave. 
          Then what dost think about thy honour, dear?—­
          Said she, with ire, I neither know nor fear;
          Is this a time to guard it, do you say? 
          What pain was shown by any one, I pray;
          When I was forc’d to wed a man like you,
          Old, impotent, and hateful to the view,
          While