Then courts of kings were held in high renown,
Ere made the common brothels of the town:
There, virgins honourable vows receiv'd,
But chafte as maids in monasteries liv'd :
The king himself, to nuptial ties a flave,
No bad example to his poets gave:
And they, not bad, but in a vicious age,
Had not, to please the prince, debauch'd the stage,
Now what should Arthur do? He lov'd the knight,
But fovereign monarchs are the fource of right:
Mov'd by the damfel's tears and common cry,
He doom'd the brutal ravisher to die.
But fair Geneura rofe in his defence,
And pray'd fo hard for mercy
That to his queen the king, th' offender gave,
And left it in her pow'r to kill or fave:
This gracious act the ladies all approve,
Who thought it much a man should die for love;
And with their mistress join'd in close debate,
(Cov'ring their kindness with diffembled hate ;)
If not to free him, to prolong his fate.
At laft agreed they call him by confent
Before the queen and female parliament.
And the fair speaker rifing from the chair,
Did thus the judgment of the house declare.
Sir knight, though I have ask'd thy life, yet ftill
Thy deftiny depends upon my will:
Nor haft thou other furety than the grace
Not due to thee from our offended race.
But as our kind is of a fofter mold,
And cannot blood without a figh behold,
I grant thee life; referving ftill the pow'r
To take the forfeit when I fee my hour
Unless thy answer to my next demand
Shall fet thee free from our avenging hand.
The queftion, whofe folution I require,
Is, What the fex of women moft defire ?
In this difpute thy judges are at strife;
Beware; for on thy wit depends thy life.
Yet (left, furprised, unknowing what to say,
Thou damn thyfelf) we give thee farther day:
is thine to wander at thy will;
And learn from others, if thou want'ft the skill.
But, not to hold our proffer turn'd to scorn,
Good fureties will we have for thy return;
That at the time prefix'd thou shalt obey,
And at thy pledge's peril keep thy day.
Woe was the knight at this fevere command;
But well he knew 'twas bootlefs to withstand':
The terms accepted as the fair ordain,
He put in bail for his return again,
And promis'd anfwer at the day affign'd,
The beft, with heav'n's affiftance he could find.
His leave thus taken, on his way he went
With heavy heart, and full of discontent,
Mifdoubting much, and fearful of th' event.
'Twas hard the truth of fuch a point to find,
As was not yet agreed among the kind.
Thus on he went; ftill anxious more and more,
Afk'd all he met, and knock'd at ev'ry door;
Enquir'd of men; but made his chief request
To learn from women what they lov'd the best.
They anfwer'd each according to her mind
To pleafe herfelf, not all the female kind.
One was for wealth, another was for place:
Crones, old and ugly, wifh'd a better face.
The widow's wifh was oftentimes to wed ;-
The wanton maids were all for sport a-bed.
Some faid the fex were pleas'd with handsome lies,
And fome grofs flattery lov'd without disguise:
Truth is, fays one, he feldom fails to win
Who flatters well; for that's our darling fin.
But long attendance, and a duteous mind,
Will work ev'n with the wifcft of the kind.
One thought the fex'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 with a husband-fool; but fuch are curft,
For fools perverse of hufbands are the worst :
All women would be counted chafte and wife,
Nor fhould our spouses fee, but with our eyes;
For fools will prate; and tho' they want the wit
To find close faults, yet open blots will hit :
Tho' better for their ease to hold their tongue,
For woman-kind was never in the wrong.
So noise enfues, and quarrels laft for life;
The wife abhors the fool, the fool the wife.
And fome men say that great delight have we,
To be for truth extoll'd, and fecrefy:
And conftant in one purpose ftill to dwell;
And not our hufbands counfels to reveal.
But that's a fable: for our fex is frail,
Inventing rather than not tell a tale.
Like leaky fieves no fecrets we can hold :
Witness the famous tale that Ovid told.
Midas the king, as in his book appears,
By Phoebus was endow'd with afs's ears,
Which under his long locks he well conceal'd,
(As monarch's 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 durft communicate
To none but to his wife his ears of ftate:
One must be trufted, and he thought her fit,
As paffing prudent, and a parlous wit.
To this fagacious confeffor he went,
And told her what a gift the gods had fent:
But told it under matrimonial feal,
With strict injunction never to reveal.
The fecret heard, fhe plighted him her trothy
(And facred fure is every woman's oath)
The royal malady fhould reft unknown,
Both for her husband's honour and her own;
But ne'ertheless she pin'd with discontent;
The counfel rumbl'd till it found a vent.
The thing the knew she was oblig❜d to hide;
By int'reft and by oath the wife was ty'd;
But if she told it not the woman dy'd.
Loth to betray a husband and a prince,
But she must burst, or blab, and no pretence
Of honour ty'd her tongue from self-defence.
A marshy ground commodiously was near,
Thither fhe ran, and held her breath for fear,
Left if a word she spoke of any thing,
That word might be the fecret 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 neceffity compell'd,
On her majestic marrow bones she kneel'd:
Then to the water's brink fhe laid her head,
And, as a bittour bumps within a reed,
To thee alone, O lake, fhe faid, I tell,
(And, as thy queen, command thee to conceal)
Beneath his locks the king my husband wears
A goodly royal pair of affes cars :
Now I have eas'd my bofom of the pain,
Till the next longing fit return again.
Thus thro' a woman was the fecret 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 confum'd the year:
One day was only left to folve the doubt,
Yet knew no more than when he first fet out.
But home he muft, and as th' award had been,
Yield up his body captive to the queen.
In this despairing ftate he hap'd to ride,
As fortune led him, by a foreft fide:
Lonely the vale, and full of horror stood,
Brown with the fhade of a religious wood:
When full before him at the noon of night,
(The moon was up, and shot a gleamy light)
He faw a quire of ladies in a round
That featly footing feem'd to fkim the ground:
Thus dancing hand in hand, fo light they were,
He knew not where they trod on earth or air.
At speed he drove, and came a fudden guest,
In hope where many women were, at least,
Some one by chance might answer his request.
But fafter than his horse the ladies flew,
And in a trice were vanish'd out of view.
One only hag remain'd: but fouler far
Than grandame apes in Indian forefts are;
Against a wither'd oak fhe lean'd her weight,
Propp'd on her trusty staff, not half upright,
And dropp'd an aukward court'fy to the knight.
Then faid, what makes you, Sir, fo late abroad
Without a guide, and this no beaten road?
Or want you ought that here you hope to find,
Or travel for fome trouble in your mind?
The laft I guess; and if I read aright,
Those of our sex are bound to ferve a knight;
Perhaps good counsel may your grief affuage,
Then tell your pain; for wifdom is in age.
To this the knight: good mother would you
The fecret cause and spring of all my woe?
My life muft with to-morrow's light expire,
Unless I tell what women most defire.
Now con'd you help me at this hard essay,
Or for your inborn goodness, or for pay;
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