Duke. Peace!-No fooling, idle woman! Beneath th' attesting eye of Heaven I've sworn To love, to honor, cherish, and protect you. No human power can part us. What remains,

then?

To fret, and worry, and torment each other,
And give a keener edge to our hard fate
By sharp upbraidings and perpetual jars?
Or, like a loving and a patient pair
(Waked from a dream of grandeur, to depend
Upon their daily labor for support),

To soothe the taste of fortune's lowliness
With sweet consent and mutual fond endear-
ment?

Now to your chamber-write whate'er you please; But pause before you stain the spotless paper With words that may inflame, but cannot heal! Jul. Why, what a patient worm you take me for!

Duke. I took you for a wife; and ere I've done, I'll know you for a good one.

Jul. You shall know me

For a right woman, full of her own sex;

Who, when she suffers wrong, will speak her

anger;

Who feels her own prerogative, and scorns,

By the proud reason of superior man,

To be taught patience, when her swelling heart Cries out revenge!

Duke. Why, let the flood rage on!

There is no tide in woman's wildest passion

[Exit.

But hath an ebb.-I've broke the ice, however.Write to her father!-She may write a folio.

But if she send it !-Twill divert her spleen: The flow of ink may save her blood-letting. Perchance she may have fits!-They are seldom mortal,

Save when the Doctor's sent for.

Though I have heard some husbands say, and wisely,

A woman's honor is her safest guard,

Yet there's some virtue in a lock and key.
So, thus begins our honeymoon.-'Tis well!
For the first fortnight, ruder than March winds,
She'll blow a hurricane. The next, perhaps,
Like April she may wear a changeful face

Of storm and sunshine: and when that is past,
She will break glorious as unclouded May;
And where the thorns grew bare, the spreading
blossoms

Meet with no lagging frost to kill their sweet

ness.

Whilst others, for a month's delirious joy,
Buy a dull age of penance, we, more wisely,
Taste first the wholesome bitter of the cup,
That after to the very lees shall relish;
And to the close of this frail life prolong
The pure delights of a well-governed marriage.
John Tobin.

JOHN GILPIN'S RIDE.

JOHN GILPIN was a citizen of credit and renown; A train-band captain eke was he, of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, "Though wedded we have been

These twice ten tedious years, yet we no holiday

have seen.

"To-morrow is our wedding-day, and we shall then repair

Unto the Bell at Edmonton, all in a chaise-and

pair.

My sister and my sister's child, myself and children three,

Will fill the chaise: so you must ride on horseback after we."

He soon replied, "I do admire, of womankind, but one,

And you are she, my dearest dear, therefore it shall be done.

I am a linen-draper bold, as all the world doth

know,

And my good friend the calender will lend his horse to go."

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; and, for that wine is dear,

We will be furnished with our own, which is both bright and clear."

John Gilpin kissed his loving wife: o'erjoyed was he to find

That, though on pleasure she was bent, she had a frugal mind.

The morning came; the chaise was brought, but yet was not allowed

To drive up to the door, lest all should say that she was proud.

So three doors off the chaise was stayed, where they did all get in,—

Six precious souls, and all agog to dash through thick and thin!

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels; were never folks so glad;

The stones did rattle underneath, as if Cheapside were mad.

John Gilpin, at his horse's side, seized fast the flowing mane,

And

up he got, in haste to ride, but soon, came down again;

For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, his journey to begin,

When, turning round his head, he saw three customers come in.

So down he came; for loss of time, although it grieved him sore,

Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, would trouble him much more.

'Twas long before the customers were suited to their mind,

When Betty screaming came down-stairs, "The wine is left behind!"

"Good lack!" quoth he; "yet bring it me, my leathern belt likewise,

In which I wear my trusty sword, when I do exercise."

Now, Mrs. Gilpin (careful soul!) had two stone bottles found,

To hold the liquor that she loved, and keep it safe and sound;

Each bottle had a curling ear, through which the belt he drew,

And hung a bottle on each side, to make his balance true.

Then over all, that he might be equipped from top to toe,

His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, he manfully did throw.

Now see him mounted once again upon his nimble steed,

Full slowly pacing o'er the stones with caution and good heed.

But finding soon a smoother road beneath his well-shod feet,

The snorting beast began to trot, which galled him in his seat.

"So! fair and softly!" John he cried; but John he cried in vain;

The trot became a gallop soon, in spite of curb and rein,

So, stooping down, as needs he must who cannot sit upright,

He grasped the mane with both his hands, and eke with all his might.

His horse, who never in that sort had handled been before,

What thing upon his back had got did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or naught; away went hat and wig;