LXXIV.

Thus Takeall sung, in an enamoured strain,

Full of impatience, panting with desire,
The just remonstrance, which had given him pain,
Check'd its display, but could not quench its fire;

And, still intent upon the tempting prize,
He now pursued it in more cautious guise.

LXXV.

In sixteen hundred fifty pass'd a law,

By which all wenching was declared a crime,
And those were fairly hang'd whom Justice saw
Offending in this way a second time.

The law for that age might not be amiss,
But, God be praised, 'tis obsolete in this!

LXXVI.

Some pretty prospects might that statute mar,

If for offenders made a rigid search; "Twould cause no small confusion at the Bar,

And

prove the total ruin of the Church!

And oh if executed all who wench,

What Judge could sit in safety on the bench?'

LXXVII.

Yet, possibly, to bring it into play
Might benefit this over-crowded nation,
Because it presently would sweep away

The whole of our superfluous population.

And some would owe the law more necks, I wot,
Than Lad-lane's celebrated Swan has got.

LXXVIII.

But, fearing no such law, Tom took his course,

And once when Charlotte's music-master came, While she took lessons, he contrived to force

A letter on her.-What starch'd prude shall blame The lady, if disposed, at all events,

To take it, just to look at its contents?

LXXIX.

And when, on reading of a passion frantic,
She found a proposition to elope,
The thing was so deliciously romantic,

By many she will be forgiven, I hope,
If, after that, ere many weeks were spent,
A signal indicated her consent.

LXXX.

'Twas settled then, that on the coming Friday,

Whatever might of good or ill betide,

And whether it turn'd out a wet or dry day,

That she in Takeall's chaise should take a ride:

That is, in any chaise he, after dark,

Might have in waiting by the neighbouring park.

LXXXI.

One thing she stipulated-'tis but fair

To state this now, lest some say, Fie upon her; 'Twas this, that Tom should take especial care,

Of what each beauty loves to name-her honour; But honour is he had not then to learn,

A very-very portable concern.

LXXXII.

He started then no scruples upon this,

And, aided by a friend with chaise and pair,
Exulting in anticipated bliss,

He on the appointed evening sought the fair,
And waited anxiously the silent hour,
Which promised to put Charlotte in his power.

END OF CANTO THE FIRST.