The little dog

          Thekey, which opes the chest of hoarded gold. 
          Unlocks the heart that favours would withhold. 
          To this the god of love has oft recourse,
          When arrows fail to reach the secret source,
          And I’ll maintain he’s right, for, ’mong mankind,
          Nice presents ev’ry where we pleasing find;
          Kings, princes, potentates, receive the same,
          And when a lady thinks she’s not to blame,
          To do what custom tolerates around;
          When Venus’ acts are only Themis’ found,
          I’ll nothing ’gainst her say; more faults than one,
          Besides the present, have their course begun.

          A Mantuan judge espoused a beauteous fair: 
          Her name was Argia:—­Anselm was her care,
          An aged dotard, trembling with alarms,
          While she was young, and blessed with seraph charms. 
          But, not content with such a pleasing prize,
          His jealousy appeared without disguise,
          Which greater admiration round her drew,
          Who doubtless merited, in ev’ry view,
          Attention from the first in rank or place
          So elegant her form, so fine her face.

          ’TWOULD endless prove, and nothing would avail,
          Each lover’s pain minutely to detail: 
          Their arts and wiles; enough ’twill be no doubt,
          To say the lady’s heart was found so stout,
          She let them sigh their precious hours away,
          And scarcely seemed emotion to betray.

          Whileat the judge’s, Cupid was employed,
          Some weighty things the Mantuan state annoyed,
          Of such importance, that the rulers meant,
          An embassy should to the Pope be sent. 
          As Anselm was a judge of high degree,
          No one so well embassador could be.

          ’Twaswith reluctance he agreed to go,
          And be at Rome their mighty Plenipo’;
          The business would be long, and he must dwell
          Six months or more abroad, he could not tell. 
          Though great the honour, he should leave his dove,
          Which would be painful to connubial love. 
          Long embassies and journeys far from home
          Oft cuckoldom around induce to roam.

          Thehusband, full of fears about his wife;
          Exclaimed—­my ever—­darling, precious life,
          I must away; adieu, be faithful pray,
          To one whose heart from you can never stray
          But swear to me, my duck, (for, truth to tell,
          I’ve reason to be jealous of my belle,)
          Now swear these sparks, whose ardour I perceive,
          Have sighed without success, and I’ll believe. 
          But