And my reward—­to scorn her, and to dine. 
   “See next that giddy thing, with neither pride
To keep her safe, nor principle to guide: 
Poor, idle, simple flirt! as sure as fate
Her maiden-fame will have an early date: 
Of her beware; for all who live below
Have faults they wish not all the world to know,
And she is fond of listening, full of doubt,
And stoops to guilt to find an error out. 
   “And now once more observe the artful Maid,
A lying, prying, jilting, thievish jade;
I think, my love, you would not condescend
To call a low, illiterate girl your friend: 
But in our troubles we are apt, you know,
To lean on all who some compassion show;
And she has flexile features, acting eyes,
And seems with every look to sympathise;
No mirror can a mortal’s grief express
With more precision, or can feel it less;
That proud, mean spirit, she by fawning courts
By vulgar flattery, and by vile reports;
And by that proof she every instant gives
To one so mean, that yet a meaner lives. 
   “Come, I have drawn the curtain, and you see
Your fellow-actors, all our company;
Should you incline to throw reserve aside,
And in my judgment and my love confide,
I could some prospects open to your view,
That ask attention—­and, till then, adieu.” 
   “Farewell!” said Jesse, hastening to her room,
Where all she saw within, without, was gloom: 
Confused, perplex’d, she pass’d a dreary hour,
Before her reason could exert its power;
To her all seem’d mysterious, all allied
To avarice, meanness, folly, craft, and pride;
Wearied with thought, she breathed the garden’s air,
Then came the laughing Lass, and join’d her thore. 
   “My sweetest friend has dwelt with us a week,
And does she love us? be sincere and speak;
My Aunt you cannot—­Lord! how I should hate
To be like her, all misery and state;
Proud, and yet envious, she disgusted sees
All who are happy, and who look at ease. 
Let friendship bind us, I will quickly show
Some favourites near us you’ll be bless’d to know;
My aunt forbids it—­but, can she expect,
To soothe her spleen, we shall ourselves neglect? 
Jane and the Widow were to watch and stay
My free-born feet; I watch’d as well as they: 
Lo! what is this?—­this simple key explores
The dark recess that holds the Spinster’s stores: 
And, led by her ill star, I chanced to see
Where Issop keeps her stock of ratafie;
Used in the hours of anger and alarm,
It makes her civil, and it keeps her warm: 
Thus bless’d with secrets both would choose to hide,
Their fears now grant me what their scorn denied. 
   “My freedom thus by their assent secured,
Bad as it is, the place may be endured;
And bad it is, but her estates, you know,
And her beloved hoards, she must bestow;
So we can slily our amusements take,
And friends of demons, if they help us, make.”