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"H

ERE the fair humble penitent behold,
"To the good father all her sins unfold :

"He hears, absolves, but mark his leering eyes,
"And judge by them where his devotion lies.''
At her warm altar oft he's bow'd the knee,
Cancell'd the crime, and praisd her chastity.
But take the story, which I've lately got
From that old conjurer, hight Michael Scott.

Old wealthy Walter married buxom Sue,
For young she was, and very handeome too :
She daily prayed ; — her beads slipp'd to and fro,
And to confession constantly did go ;
Till squaint-eye'd jealousy prick'd Walter's mind,
Who study'd hard the hated truth to find.

This brawny monk (quoth Walter to himself)
Plagues me much more than hoarding all my pelf ;
But I'm determined to find out my doom,
For no plague equals doubtful cuckoldom.

Now Walter follows holy Sue to church,
And in a pew lies perdue on the lurch ;
He ey'd his wife, in penitential dress,
Counting her beads, and hearing th' heavenly mass.
This done, she in her turn fell down before
The good monk John, and mutter'd something o'er :
The father sighed — his bacon-head he shook,
And into private he poor Suky took
For to shastise — but not with whips, 'tis thought,
Which made our cuckold hastily cry out,
My God — my Suky ! — ah, she's much too tender,
Give me the lash who knows but that may mend her?
And down he falls upon his bended knees
To have the stripes — which Suky quickly sees,
And whispers John ; — Good father beat him hard,
My sins are great, and sin shou'd not be spar'd.

Thus priests and monks of every order prove
Meer wicked laymen in the cause of love :
And women's nature from the first to last,
Will sometimes long forbidden fruit to taste.