There haunts not any incubus but he. The maids and women need no danger fear To walk by night, and sanctity so near: For by some haycock, or some shady thorn, He bids his beads both evensong and morn. It so befell in this King Arthur's reign, A lusty knight was pricking o'er the plain; A bachelor he was, and of the courtly train.
It happen'd, as he rode, a damsel gay In russet robes to market took her way; 50 Soon on the girl he cast an amorous eye, So straight she walk'd, and on her pasterns high:
If seeing her behind he lik'd her pace, Now turning short, he better lik'd her face. He lights in haste, and, full of youthful fire,
By force accomplish'd his obscene desire: This done, away he rode, not unespied, For swarming at his back the country cried; And once in view they never lost the sight, But seiz'd, and pinion'd brought to court the knight.
Then courts of kings were held in high
Thy destiny depends upon my will; Nor hast thou other surety than the grace Not due to thee from our offended race. But as our kind is of a softer mold, And cannot blood without a sigh behold, I grant thee life; reserving still the pow'r To take the forfeit when I see my hour, Unless thy answer to my next demand Shall set thee free from our avenging hand. The question, whose solution I require, Is, what the sex of women most desire. In this dispute thy judges are at strife; Beware, for on thy wit depends thy life. Yet (lest, surpris'd, unknowing what to say, Thou damn thyself) we give thee farther day:
Enquir'd of men, but made his chief request
To learn from women what they lov'd the best.
They answer'd each according to her mind, To please herself, not all the female kind. One was for wealth, another was for place; Crones, old and ugly, wish'd a better face. The widow's wish was oftentimes to wed; The wanton maids were all for sport abed. Some said the sex were pleas'd with handsome lies,
And some gross flatt'ry lov'd without disguise;
"Truth is," says one, "he seldom fails to win,
Who flatters well, for that's our darling sin; But long attendance, and a duteous mind, Will work ev'n with the wisest of the kind." One thought the sex's prime felicity Was from the bonds of wedlock to be free; Their pleasures, hours, and actions all their own,
And uncontroll'd to give account to none. Some wish a husband-fool; but such are curst,
For fools perverse of husbands are the worst:
(As monarchs' vices must not be reveal'd,) For fear the people have 'em in the wind, Who long ago were neither dumb nor blind, Nor apt to think from heav'n their title springs,
Since Jove and Mars left off begetting kings.
This Midas knew; and durst communicate To none but to his wife his ears of state: One must be trusted, and he thought her fit, As passing prudent, and a parlous wit. To this sagacious confessor he went, 169 And told her what a gift the gods had sent; But told it under matrimonial seal, With strict injunction never to reveal. The secret heard, she plighted him her troth, (And sacred sure is every woman's oath,) The royal malady should rest unknown, Both for her husband's honor and her own; But ne'ertheless she pin'd with discontent; The counsel rumbled till it found a vent. The thing she knew she was oblig❜d to hide;
By int'rest and by oath the wife was tied;
But, if she told it not, the woman died. Loth to betray a husband and a prince, But she must burst, or blab, and no pre
Of honor tied her tongue from self-defense.
A marshy ground commodiously was near; Thither she ran, and held her breath for fear,
Lest if a word she spoke of anything, That word might be the secret of the king. Thus full of counsel to the fen she went, Grip'd all the way, and longing for a vent; Arriv'd, by pure necessity compell'd, On her majestic mary-bones she kneel'd; Then to the water's brink she laid her head, And, as a bittor bumps within a reed, "To thee alone, O lake," she said, "I tell, (And, as thy queen, command thee to conceal,)
Beneath his locks the king my husband
A goodly royal pair of ass's ears: Now I have eas'd my bosom of the pain, Till the next longing fit return again!" 200 Thus thro' a woman was the secret known; Tell us, and in effect you tell the town. But to my tale: the knight, with heavy cheer,
Wand'ring in vain, had now consum'd the year
One day was only left to solve the doubt Yet knew no more than when he first set out.
But home he must, and, as th' award had been,
Yield up his body captive to the queen. In this despairing state he happ'd to ride, As fortune led him, by a forest side: Lonely the vale, and full of horror stood, Brown with the shade of a religious wood; When full before him at the noon of night,
(The moon was up, and shot a gleamy light,)
He saw a choir of ladies in a round, That featly footing seem'd to skim the ground:
Thus dancing hand in hand, so light they were,
He knew not where they trod, on earth or
She said: with fury they began to ride, He on the midst, the beldam at his side. The horse, what devil drove, I cannot tell, But only this, they sped their journey well; And all the way the crone inform'd the knight,
How he should answer the demand aright. To court they came; the news was quickly spread
Of his returning to redeem his head. The female senate was assembled soon, With all the mob of women in the town; The queen sate lord chief justice of the hall,
And bade the crier cite the criminal. The knight appear'd, and silence they pro-
Then first the culprit answer'd to his name;
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