All my reproof, thy wanton thoughts restrain?”
“Alas! your reverence, wanton thoughts, I grant,
Were once my motive, now the thoughts of want;
Women, like me, as ducks in a decoy,
Swim down a stream, and seem to swim in joy. 
Your sex pursue us, and our own disdain;
Return is dreadful, and escape is vain. 
Would men forsake us, and would women strive
To help the fall’n, their virtue might revive.” 
For rite of churching soon she made her way,
In dread of scandal, should she miss the day:  —
Two matrons came! with them she humbly knelt,
Their action copied and their comforts felt,
From that great pain and peril to be free,
Though still in peril of that pain to be;
Alas! what numbers, like this amorous dame,
Are quick to censure, but are dead to shame! 
Twin-infants then appear; a girl, a boy,
Th’ overflowing cup of Gerard Ablett’s joy: 
One had I named in every year that passed
Since Gerard wed! and twins behold at last! 
Well pleased, the bridegroom smiled to hear—­“A vine
Fruitful and spreading round the walls be thine,
And branch-like be thine offspring!”—­Gerard then
Look’d joyful love, and softly said “Amen.” 
Now of that vine he’d have no more increase,
Those playful branches now disturb his peace: 
Them he beholds around his tables spread,
But finds, the more the branch, the less the bread;
And while they run his humble walls about,
They keep the sunshine of good humour out. 
Cease, man, to grieve! thy master’s lot survey,
Whom wife and children, thou and thine obey;
A farmer proud, beyond a farmer’s pride,
Of all around the envy or the guide;
Who trots to market on a steed so fine,
That when I meet him, I’m ashamed of mine;
Whose board is high upheaved with generous fare,
Which five stout sons and three tall daughters share. 
Cease, man, to grieve, and listen to his care. 
A few years fled, and all thy boys shall be
Lords of a cot, and labourers like thee: 
Thy girls unportion’d neighb’ring youths shall lead
Brides from my church, and thenceforth thou art freed: 
But then thy master shall of cares complain,
Care after care, a long connected train;
His sons for farms shall ask a large supply,
For farmers’ sons each gentle miss shall sigh;
Thy mistress, reasoning well of life’s decay,
Shall ask a chaise, and hardly brook delay;
The smart young cornet, who with so much grace
Rode in the ranks and betted at the race,
While the vex’d parent rails at deed so rash,
Shall d**n his luck, and stretch his hand for cash. 
Sad troubles, Gerard! now pertain to thee,
When thy rich master seems from trouble free;
But ’tis one fate at different times assign’d,
And thou shalt lose the cares that he must find. 
“Ah!” quoth our village Grocer, rich and old,
“Would I might one such cause for care behold!”
To whom his Friend, “Mine greater bliss would