HENRY.

Vainly thou tell'ft me, what the woman's care Shall in the wildnefs of the wood prepare: 420 Thou, ere thou goeft, unhappyeft of thy kind, Must leave the habit and the fex behind. No longer shall thy comely treffes break In flowing ringlets on thy fnowy neck; Or fit behind thy head, an ample round, In graceful braids' with various ribbon bound:

425

430

No longer shall the boddice, aptly lac'd
From thy full bosom to thy flender' waist,'
That air and harmony of shape express,
'Fine by degrees, and beautifully lefs :
Nor shall thy lower garments artful pleat,
From thy fair fide dependent to thy feet,
Arm their chafte beauties with a modest pride,
And double ev'ry charm they seek to hide.
Th' ambrofial plenty of thy fhining hair,
Cropt off and loft, scarce lower than thy ear,
Shall ftand uncouth: a horfeman's coat shall hide
Thy taper shape, and comeliness of fide:

435

440

The short trunk-hofe fhall fhew thy foot and knee
Licentious, and to common eye-fight free:
And, with a bolder ftride, and looser air,
Mingl❜d with men, a man thou must appear.

Nor folitude, nor gentle peace of mind,
Miftaken maid, fhalt thou in forests find:

V. 426. breeds.

V. 428. wafte.

'Tis long fince Cynthia and her train were there;
Or guardian gods made innocence their care. 446
Vagrants and out-laws fhall offend thy view;
For fuch must be my friends; a hideous crew
By adverse fortune mix'd in social ill,
Train'd to affault, and difciplin'd to kill:
Their common loves, a lewd abandon'd pack,
The beadle's lash still flagrant on their back:
By floth corrupted, by disorder fed,

450

Made bold by want, and prostitute for bread:
With fuch muft Emma hunt the tedious day, 455
Affift their violence, and divide their prey:
With fuch she must return at setting light,

Tho' not partaker, witness of their night.
Thy ear, inur'd to charitable sounds,
And pitying love, must feel the hateful wounds
Of jeft obfcene and vulgar ribaldry,
The ill-bred queftion, and the lewd reply;
Brought by long habitude from bad to worse,
Must hear the frequent oath, the direful curse,

461

That latest weapon of the wretches war,

And blafphemy, fad comrade of despair.

465

Now, Emma, now the laft reflection make,

What thou would'st follow, what thou must forsake :

By our ill-omen'd stars, and adverse heav'n,
No middle object to thy choice is given.

470

Or yield thy virtue, to attain thy love;

Or leave a banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to

rove.

EMMA.

O grief of heart! that our unhappy fates
Force thee to fuffer what thy honour hates :
Mix thee amongst the bad; or make thee run
Too near the paths which virtue bids thee fhun.
Yet with her Henry still let Emma go;
With him abhor the vice, but fhare the woe:
And fure my little heart can never err
Amidst the worst; if Henry ftill be there.

480

Our outward act is prompted from within;
And from the finner's mind proceeds the fin:
By her own choice free Virtue is approv'd;
Nor by the force of outward objects mov'd.
Who has affay'd no danger, gains no praise. 485
In a small ifle, amidst the widest feas,
Triumphant Conftancy has fix'd her feat:

In vain the fyrens fing, the tempests beat:
Their flattery fhe rejects, nor fears their threat.

}

For thee alone these little charms I dreft; 490 Condemn'd them, or abfolv'd them by thy teft. In comely figure rang'd, my jewels fhone, Or negligently plac'd, for thee alone: For thee again they shall be laid aside;

The woman, Henry, shall put off her pride 495 For thee my cloaths, my sex, exchang'd for thee, I'll mingle with the people's wretched lee;

O line extreme of human infamy!

Wanting the fciffars, with these hands I'll tear (If that obftructs my flight) this load of hair. 500 Black foot, or yellow walnut fhall disgrace

This little red and white of Emma's face.

These nails with scratches shall deform my breaft, Left by my look, or color be express'd

The mark of aught' high-born, or ever better

drefs'd.

Yet in this commerce, under this disguise,
Let me be grateful ftill in Henry's eyes;
Loft to the world, let me to him be known:

506

My fate I can absolve; if he shall own,
That, leaving all mankind, I love but him alone.

HENRY.

515

O wildeft thought of an abandon'd mind! 511 Name, habit, parents, woman, left behind, Ev'n honour dubious, thou preferr'st to go Wild to the woods with me: faid Emma fo? Or did I dream what Emma never faid? O guilty error! and O wretched maid! Whose roving fancy would refolve the fame With him, who next should tempt her eafie fame And blow with empty words the fufceptible flame. Now why should doubtful terms thy mind perplex? Confefs thy frailty, and avow thy fex: No longer loose defire for conftant love

521

Miftake; but say, 'tis man with whom thou long'st

to rove.

V. 505. ought.

EMMA.

Are there not poisons, racks, and flames, and

fwords;

That Emma thus muft die by Henry's words? 525 Yet what could fwords or poison, racks or flame, But mangle and disjoint this brittle frame?

More fatal Henry's words; they murder Emma's fame.

And fall these fayings from that gentle tongue,
Where civil speech and foft perfuafion hung; 530
Whofe artful sweetness and harmonious ftrain,
Courting my grace, yet courting it in vain,
Call'd fighs, and tears, and wishes, to its aid;
And, whilft it Henry's glowing flame convey'd,
Still blam'd the coldness of the Nut-brown Maid?

Let envious jealousie and canker'd spight
Produce my actions to feverest light,
And tax my open day, or fecret night.

}

Did e'er my tongue speak my unguarded heart
The least inclin'd to play the wanton's part? 540
Did e'er my eye one inward thought reveal,
Which angels might not hear, and virgins tell?
And haft thou, Henry, in my conduct known
One fault, but that which I muft never own,
That I, of all mankind, have lov'd but thee