Читать книгу The Tatler, Volume 1 - Джозеф Аддисон - Страница 6

Miss Molly, a famed toast, was fair and young,

Had wealth and charms, but then she had a tongue

From morn to night, the eternal larum run,

Which often lost those hearts her eyes had won.

Sir John was smitten, and confessed his flame,

Sighed out the usual time, then wed the dame:

Possessed he thought of every joy of life,

But his dear Molly proved a very wife.

Excess of fondness did in time decline,

Madam loved money, and the knight loved wine.

From whence some petty discords would arise,

As, "You're a fool"; and, "You are mighty wise!"

Though he and all the world allowed her wit,

Her voice was shrill, and rather loud than sweet,

When she began,—for hat and sword he'd call.

Then, after a faint kiss, cry, "B'y, dear Moll:

Supper and friends expect me at the Rose." 83

And, "What, Sir John, you'll get your usual dose!

Go, stink of smoke, and guzzle nasty wine,

Sure, never virtuous love was used like mine!"

Oft as the watchful bellman marched his round,

At a fresh bottle gay Sir John he found.

By four the knight would get his business done,

And only then reeled off, because alone;

Full well he knew the dreadful storm to come,

But armed with bordeaux, he durst venture home.

My lady with her tongue was still prepared,

She rattled loud, and he impatient heard:

"'Tis a fine hour? In a sweet pickle made!

And this, Sir John, is every day the trade.

Here I sit moping all the live-long night,

Devoured with spleen, and stranger to delight;

'Till morn sends staggering home a drunken beast,

Resolved to break my heart, as well as rest."

"Hey! Hoop! d'ye hear my damned obstreperous spouse!

What, can't you find one bed about the house!

Will that perpetual clack lie never still!

That rival to the softness of a mill!

Some couch and distant room must be my choice,

Where I may sleep uncursed with wife and noise."

Long this uncomfortable life they led,

With snarling meals, and each, a separate bed.

To an old uncle oft she would complain,

Beg his advice, and scarce from tears refrain.

Old Wisewood smoked the matter as it was,

"Cheer up!" cried he, "and I'll remove the cause.

"A wonderous spring within my garden flows,

Of sovereign virtue, chiefly to compose

Domestic jars, and matrimonial strife,

The best elixir t' appease man and wife;

Strange are th' effects, the qualities divine,

'Tis water called, but worth its weight in wine.

If in his sullen airs Sir John should come,

Three spoonfuls take, hold in your mouth—then mum:

Smile, and look pleased, when he shall rage and scold,

Still in your mouth the healing cordial hold;

One month this sympathetic medecine tried,

He'll grow a lover, you a happy bride.

But, dearest niece, keep this grand secret close,

Or every prattling hussy'll beg a dose."

A water-bottle's brought for her relief,

Not Nantz could sooner ease the lady's grief:

Her busy thoughts are on the trial bent,

And female-like, impatient for th' event:

The bonny knight reels home exceeding clear,

Prepared for clamour, and domestic war.

Entering, he cries, "Hey! where's our thunder fled?

No hurricane! Betty, 's your lady dead?"

Madam, aside, an ample mouthful takes,

Curtsies, looks kind, but not a word she speaks:

Wondering, he stared, scarcely his eyes believed,

But found his ears agreeably deceived.

"Why, how now, Molly, what's the crotchet now?"

She smiles, and answers only with a bow.

Then clasping her about,—"Why, let me die!

These nightclothes, Moll, become thee mightily!"

With that, he sighed, her hand began to press,

And Betty calls, her lady to undress;

"Nay, kiss me, Molly, for I'm much inclined."

Her lace she cuts, to take him in the mind.

Thus the fond pair to bed enamoured went,

The lady pleased, and the good knight content.

For many days these fond endearments passed,

The reconciling bottle fails at last;

'Twas used and gone: Then midnight storms arose,

And looks and words the union discompose.

Her coach is ordered, and post-haste she flies,

To beg her uncle for some fresh supplies;

Transported does the strange effects relate,

Her knight's conversion, and her happy state!

"Why, niece," says he, "I prithee apprehend

The water's water. Be thyself thy friend;

Such beauty would the coldest husband warm,

But your provoking tongue undoes the charm:

Be silent, and complying; you'll soon find,

Sir John, without a medecine, will be kind."