A fellow! to presume, cried she, to speak
          Of me with freedom!—­I am not so weak,
          To listen to such infamy, not I
          A pilgrim too!—­no, you may well rely,
          E’en were he Atis, it would be the same,
          To whom I now my cruel conduct blame: 
          Such things he never would to me propose;
          Not e’en a monarch would the like disclose;
          I’m ’bove temptation, presents would not do:—­
          Not Plutus’ stores, if offered to my view;
          A paltry pilgrim to presume indeed,
          To think that I would such a blackguard heed,
          Ambassadress my rank! and to admit
          A fellow, only for the gallows fit!

          Thispilgrim, cried the maid, has got the means
          Not only belles to get, but even queens;
          Or beauteous goddesses he could obtain:—­
          He’s worth a thousand Atis’s ’tis plain. 
          Bur, said the wife, my husband made me vow. 
          What? cried the maid, you’d not bedeck his brow! 
          A pretty promise truly:—­can you think,
          You less from this, than from the first, should shrink? 
          Who’ll know the fact, or publish it around? 
          Consider well, how many might be found,
          Who, were they marked with spot upon the nose,
          When things had taken place that we suppose,
          Would not their heads so very lofty place,
          I’m well assured, but feel their own disgrace. 
          For such a thing, are we the worse a hair? 
          No, no, good lady, who presumes to swear,
          He can discern the lips which have been pressed,
          By those that never have the fact confessed,
          Must be possessed of penetrating eyes,
          Which pierce the sable veil of dark disguise. 
          This favour, whether you accord or not,
          ’Twill not a whit be less nor more a blot. 
          For whom, I pray, love’s treasures would you hoard? 
          For one, who never will a treat afford,
          Or what is much the same, has not the pow’r? 
          All he may want you’ll give him in an hour,
          At his return; he’s very weak and old,
          And, doubtless, ev’ry way is icy cold!

          Thecunning girl such rhetorick displayed,
          That all she said, her mistress, having weighed,
          Began to doubt alone, and not deny
          The spaniel’s art, and pilgrim’s piercing eye: 
          To her the master and his dog were led,
          To satisfy her mind while still in bed;
          For bright Aurora, from the wat’ry deep,
          Not more reluctantly arose from sleep.

          Ourspark approached the dame with easy air,
          Which seemed the man of fashion to declare;
          His compliments were made with ev’ry grace,
          That minds most difficult could wish to trace.