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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Paulo Purganti And His Wife: An Honest, But A Simple Pair</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Beyond the fix'd and settl'd Rules<br>Of Vice and Virtue in the Schools,<br>Beyond the Letter of the Law,<br>Which keeps our Men and Maids in Awe,<br>The better Sort should set before 'em<br>A Grace, a Manner, a Decorum;<br>Something, that gives their Acts a Light;<br>Makes 'em not only just, but bright;<br>And sets 'em in that open Fame,<br>Which witty Malice cannot blame.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For 'tis in Life, as 'tis in Painting:<br>Much may be Right, yet much be Wanting:<br>From Lines drawn true, our Eye may trace<br>A Foot, a Knee, a Hand, a Face:<br>May justly own the Picture wrought<br>Exact to Rule, exempt from Fault:<br>Yet if the Colouring be not there,<br>The Titian Stroke, the Guido Air;<br>To nicest Judgment show the Piece;<br>At best 'twill only not displease:<br>It would not gain on Jersey's Eye:<br>Bradford would frown, and set it by.<br>Thus in the Picture of our Mind<br>The Action may be well design'd;<br>Guided by Law, and bound by Duty;<br>Yet want this Je ne sçay quoy of Beauty:<br>And tho' it's Error may be such,<br>As Knags and Burgess cannot hit;<br>It yet may feel the nicer Touch<br>Of Wicherley's or Congreve's Wit.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What is this Talk? replies a Friend:<br>And where will this dry Moral end?<br>The Truth of what You here lay down<br>By some Example should be shown.-<br>With all my Heart,-for once;—read on.<br>An Honest, but a Simple Pair<br>(And Twenty other I forbear)<br>May serve to make this Thesis clear.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A Doctor of great Skill and Fame,<br>Paulo Purganti was his Name,<br>Had a good, comely, virtuous Wife:<br>No Woman led a better Life:<br>She to Intrigues was ev'n hard-hearted:<br>She chuckl'd when a Bawd was carted:<br>And thought the Nation ne'er wou'd thrive,<br>'Till all the bunnys were burnt alive.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">On marry'd Men, that dare be bad,<br>She thought no Mercy should be had;<br>They should be hang'd, or starv'd, or flead,<br>Or serv'd like Romish Priests in Swede.-<br>In short, all Lewdness She defy'd:<br>And stiff was her Parochial Pride.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Yet in an honest Way, the Dame<br>Was a great Lover of That same;<br>And could from Scripture take her Cue,<br>That Husbands should give Wives their Due.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Her Prudence did so justly steer<br>Between the Gay and the Severe,<br>That if in some Regards She chose<br>To curb poor Paulo in too close;<br>In others She relax'd again,<br>And govern'd with a looser Rein.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Thus tho' She strictly did confine<br>The Doctor from Excess of Wine;<br>With Oysters, Eggs, and Vermicelli<br>She let Him almost burst his Belly:<br>Thus drying Coffee was deny'd;<br>But Chocolate that Loss supply'd:<br>And for Tobacco (who could bear it?)<br>Filthy Concomitant of Claret!<br>(Blest Revolution!) one might see<br>Eringo Roots, and Bohé Tea.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She often set the Doctor's Band,<br>And strok'd his Beard, and squeez'd his Hand:<br>Kindly complain'd, that after Noon<br>He went to pore on Books too soon:<br>She held it wholesomer by much,<br>To rest a little on the Couch:—<br>About his Waste in Bed a-nights<br>She clung so close—for fear of Sprites.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The Doctor understood the Call;<br>But had not always wherewithal.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The Lion's Skin too short, you know,<br>(As Plutarch's Morals finely show)<br>Was lengthen'd by the Fox's Tail:<br>And Art supplies, where Strength may fail.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Unwilling then in Arms to meet<br>The Enemy, He could not beat;<br>He strove to lengthen the Campaign,<br>And save his Forces by Chicane.<br>Fabius, the Roman Chief, who thus<br>By fair Retreat grew Maximus,<br>Shows us, that all that Warrior can do<br>With Force inferior, is Cunctando.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">One Day then, as the Foe drew near,<br>With Love, and Joy, and Life, and Dear;<br>Our Don, who knew this Tittle Tattle<br>Did, sure as Trumpet, call to Battel;<br>Thought it extreamly à propos,<br>To ward against the coming Blow:<br>To ward: but how? Ay, there's the Question:<br>Fierce the Assault, unarm'd the Bastion.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The Doctor feign'd a strange Surprise:<br>He felt her Pulse: he view'd her Eyes:<br>That beat too fast: These rowl'd too quick:<br>She was, He said, or would be Sick:<br>He judg'd it absolutely good,<br>That She should purge and cleanse her Blood.<br>Spaw Waters for that end were got:<br>If they past easily or not,<br>What matters it? the Lady's Feaver<br>Continu'd violent as ever.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For a Distemper of this Kind,<br>(Blackmore and Hans are of my Mind)<br>If once it youthful Blood infects,<br>And chiefly of the Female Sex;<br>Is scarce remov'd by Pill or Potion;<br>What-e'er might be our Doctor's Notion.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">One luckless Night then, as in Bed<br>The Doctor and the Dame were laid;<br>Again this cruel Feaver came,<br>High Pulse, short Breath, and Blood in Flame.<br>What Measures shall poor Paulo keep<br>With Madam, in this piteous taking?<br>She, like Macbeth, has murder'd Sleep,<br>And won't allow Him Rest, tho' waking.<br>Sad State of Matters! when We dare<br>Nor ask for Peace, nor offer War:<br>Nor Livy nor Comines have shown,<br>What in this Juncture may be done.<br>Grotius might own, that Paulo's Case is<br>Harder, than any which He places<br>Amongst his Belli and his Pacis.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He strove, alas! but strove in vain,<br>By dint of Logic to maintain,<br>That all the Sex was born to grieve,<br>Down to her Ladyship from Eve.<br>He rang'd his Tropes, and preach'd up Patience;<br>Back'd his Opinion with Quotations,<br>Divines and Moralists; and run ye on<br>Quite thro' from Seneca to Bunyan.<br>As much in vain He bid Her try<br>To fold her Arms, to close her Eye;<br>Telling Her, Rest would do Her Good;<br>If any thing in Nature cou'd:<br>So held the Greeks quite down from Galen,<br>Masters and Princes of the Calling:<br>So all our Modern Friends maintain<br>(Tho' no great Greeks) in Warwick-Lane.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Reduce, my Muse, the wand'ring Song:<br>A Tale should never be too long.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=457167" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The more He talk'd, the more She burn'd,<br>And sigh'd, and tost, and groan'd, and turn'd:<br>At last, I wish, said She, my Dear-<br>(And whisper'd something in his Ear)<br>You wish! wish on, the Doctor cries:<br>Lord! when will Womankind be wise?<br>What, in your Waters? are You mad?<br>Why Poyson is not half so bad.<br>I'll do it-But I give You Warning:<br>You'll die before To-morrow Morning.-<br>'Tis kind, my Dear, what You advise;<br>The Lady with a Sigh replies:<br>But Life, You know, at best is Pain:<br>And Death is what We should disdain<br>So do it therefore, and Adieu:<br>For I will die for Love of You:-<br>Let wanton Wives by Death be scar'd:<br>But, to my Comfort, I'm prepar'd.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Matthew+Prior">Matthew Prior</a></strong></div>