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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395898" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tale XII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'SQUIRE THOMAS; OR THE PRECIPITATE CHOICE.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Squire Thomas flatter'd long a wealthy Aunt,<br>Who left him all that she could give or grant;<br>Ten years he tried, with all his craft and skill,<br>To fix the sovereign lady's varying will;<br>Ten years enduring at her board to sit,<br>He meekly listen'd to her tales and wit:<br>He took the meanest office man can take,<br>And his aunt's vices for her money's sake:<br>By many a threat'ning hint she waked his fear,<br>And he was pain'd to see a rival near:<br>Yet all the taunts of her contemptuous pride<br>He bore, nor found his grov'ling spirit tried:<br>Nay, when she wish'd his parents to traduce,<br>Fawning he smiled, and justice call'd th' abuse:<br>'They taught you nothing: are you not at best,'<br>Said the proud Dame, 'a trifler, and a jest?<br>Confess you are a fool!'--he bow'd and he </div><div style="margin:10px 0">confess'd.<br>This vex'd him much, but could not always last:<br>The dame is buried, and the trial past.<br>There was a female, who had courted long<br>Her cousin's gifts, and deeply felt the wrong;<br>By a vain boy forbidden to attend<br>The private councils of her wealthy friend,<br>She vow'd revenge, nor should that crafty boy<br>In triumph undisturb'd his spoils enjoy:<br>He heard, he smiled, and when the Will was read,<br>Kindly dismiss'd the Kindred of the dead;<br>'The dear deceased' he call'd her, and the crowd<br>Moved off with curses deep and threat'nings loud.<br>The youth retired, and, with a mind at ease,<br>Found he was rich, and fancied he must please:<br>He might have pleased, and to his comfort found<br>The wife he wish'd, if he had sought around,<br>For there were lasses of his own degree,<br>With no more hatred to the state than he;<br>But he had courted spleen and age so long,<br>His heart refused to woo the fair and young;<br>So long attended on caprice and whim,<br>He thought attention now was due to him;<br>And as his flattery pleased the wealthy Dame,<br>Heir to the wealth, he might the flattery claim:<br>But this the fair, with one accord, denied,<br>Nor waived for man's caprice the sex's pride.<br>There is a season when to them is due<br>Worship and awe, and they will claim it too:<br>'Fathers,' they cry, 'long hold us in their chain,<br>Nay, tyrant brothers claim a right to reign:<br>Uncles and guardians we in turn obey,<br>And husbands rule with ever-during sway;<br>Short is the time when lovers at the feet<br>Of beauty kneel, and own the slavery sweet;<br>And shall we thus our triumph, this the aim<br>And boast of female power, forbear to claim?<br>No! we demand that homage, that respect,<br>Or the proud rebel punish and reject.'<br>Our Hero, still too indolent, too nice,<br>To pay for beauty the accustom'd price,<br>No less forbore t'address the humbler maid,<br>Who might have yielded with the price unpaid;<br>But lived, himself to humour and to please,<br>To count his money, and enjoy his ease.<br>It pleased a neighbouring 'squire to recommend<br>A faithful youth as servant to his friend;<br>Nay, more than servant, whom he praised for parts<br>Ductile yet strong, and for the best of hearts:<br>One who might ease him in his small affairs,<br>With tenants, tradesmen, taxes, and repairs;<br>Answer his letters, look to all his dues,<br>And entertain him with discourse and news.<br>The 'Squire believed, and found the trusted </div><div style="margin:10px 0">youth<br>A very pattern for his care and truth;<br>Not for his virtues to be praised alone,<br>But for a modest mien and humble tone;<br>Assenting always, but as if he meant<br>Only to strength of reasons to assent:<br>For was he stubborn, and retain'd his doubt,<br>Till the more subtle 'Squire had forced it out;<br>Nay, still was right, but he perceived that strong<br>And powerful minds could make the right the wrong.<br>When the 'Squire's thoughts on some fair damsel </div><div style="margin:10px 0">dwelt,<br>The faithful Friend his apprehensions felt;<br>It would rejoice his faithful heart to find<br>A lady suited to his master's mind;<br>But who deserved that master? who would prove<br>That hers was pure, uninterested love?<br>Although a servant, he would scorn to take<br>A countess, till she suffer'd for his sake;<br>Some tender spirit, humble, faithful, true,<br>Such, my dear master! must be sought for you.<br>Six months had pass'd, and not a lady seen,<br>With just this love, 'twixt fifty and fifteen;<br>All seem'd his doctrine or his pride to shun,<br>All would be woo'd before they would be won;<br>When the chance naming of a race and fair<br>Our 'Squire disposed to take his pleasure there,<br>The Friend profess'd, 'although he first began<br>To hint the thing, it seem'd a thoughtless plan;<br>The roads, he fear'd, were foul, the days were </div><div style="margin:10px 0">short,<br>The village far, and yet there might be sport.'<br>'What! you of roads and starless nights afraid?<br>You think to govern! you to be obey'd!'<br>Smiling he spoke: the humble Friend declared<br>His soul's obedience, and to go prepared.<br>The place was distant, but with great delight<br>They saw a race, and hail'd the glorious sight:<br>The 'Squire exulted, and declared the ride<br>Had amply paid, and he was satisfied.<br>They gazed, they feasted, and, in happy mood,<br>Homeward return'd, and hastening as they rode;<br>For short the day, and sudden was the change<br>From light to darkness, and the way was strange:<br>Our hero soon grew peevish, then distress'd;<br>He dreaded darkness, and he sigh'd for rest:<br>Going, they pass'd a village; but alas!<br>Returning saw no village to repass;<br>The 'Squire remember'd too a noble hall,<br>Large as a church, and whiter than its wall:<br>This he had noticed as they rode along,<br>And justly reason'd that their road was wrong,<br>George, full of awe, was modest in reply -<br>'The fault was his, 'twas folly to deny;<br>And of his master's safety were he sure,<br>There was no grievance he would not endure.'<br>This made his peace with the relenting 'Squire,<br>Whose thoughts yet dwelt on supper and a fire;<br>When, as they reach'd a long and pleasant green,<br>Dwellings of men, and next a man, were seen.<br>'My friend,' said George, 'to travellers astray<br>Point out an inn, and guide us on the way.'<br>The man look'd up; 'Surprising! can it be<br>My master's son? as I'm alive, 'tis he!'<br>'How! Robin?' George replied, 'and are we near<br>My father's house? how strangely things appear! -<br>Dear sir, though wanderers, we at last are right:<br>Let us proceed, and glad my father's sight:<br>We shall at least be fairly lodged and fed,<br>I can ensure a supper and a bed;<br>Let us this night as one of pleasure date,<br>And of surprise: it is an act of Fate.'<br>'Go on,' the 'Squire in happy temper cried;<br>'I like such blunder! I approve such guide.'<br>They ride, they halt, the farmer comes in haste,<br>Then tells his wife how much their house is graced;<br>They bless the chance, they praise the lucky son.<br>That caused the error--Nay! it was not one,<br>But their good fortune: cheerful grew the 'Squire,<br>Who found dependants, flattery, wine, and fire;<br>He heard the jack turn round; the busy dame<br>Produced her damask; and with supper came<br>The Daughter, dress'd with care, and full of maiden </div><div style="margin:10px 0">shame.<br>Surprised, our hero saw the air and dress,<br>And strove his admiration to express;<br>Nay! felt it too--for Harriot was in truth<br>A tall fair beauty in the bloom of youth;<br>And from the pleasure and surprise, a grace<br>Adorn'd the blooming damsel's form and face;<br>Then, too, such high respect and duty paid<br>By all--such silent reverence in the maid;<br>Vent'ring with caution, yet with haste, a glance,<br>Loth to retire, yet trembling to advance,<br>Appear'd the nymph, and in her gentle guest<br>Stirr'd soft emotions till the hour of rest;<br>Sweet was his sleep, and in the morn again<br>He felt a mixture of delight and pain:<br>'How fair, how gentle,' said the 'Squire, 'how </div><div style="margin:10px 0">meek,<br>And yet how sprightly, when disposed to speak!<br>Nature has bless'd her form, and heaven her mind,<br>But in her favours Fortune is unkind;<br>Poor is the maid--nay, poor she cannot prove<br>Who is enrich'd with beauty, worth, and love.'<br>The 'Squire arose, with no precise intent<br>To go or stay--uncertain what he meant:<br>He moved to part--they begg'd him first to dine;<br>And who could then escape from Love and Wine?<br>As came the night, more charming grew the Fair,<br>And seem'd to watch him with a twofold care:<br>On the third morn, resolving not to stay,<br>Though urged by Love, he bravely rode away.<br>Arrived at home, three pensive days he gave<br>To feelings fond and meditations grave;<br>Lovely she was, and, if he did not err,<br>As fond of him as his fond heart of her;<br>Still he delay'd, unable to decide,<br>Which was the master-passion, Love or Pride:<br>He sometimes wonder'd how his friend could make,<br>And then exulted in, the night's mistake;<br>Had she but fortune, 'Doubtless then,' he cried,<br>'Some happier man had won the wealthy bride.'<br>While thus he hung in balance, now inclined<br>To change his state, and then to change his mind,<br>That careless George dropp'd idly on the ground<br>A letter, which his crafty master found;<br>The stupid youth confess'd his fault, and pray'd<br>The generous 'Squire to spare a gentle maid,<br>Of whom her tender mother, full of fears,<br>Had written much--'she caught her oft in tears,<br>For ever thinking on a youth above<br>Her humble fortune--still she own'd not love;<br>Nor can define, dear girl! the cherish'd pain,<br>But would rejoice to see the cause again:<br>That neighbouring youth, whom she endured before,<br>She now rejects, and will behold no more;<br>Raised by her passion, she no longer stoops<br>To her own equals, but she pines and droops,<br>Like to a lily on whose sweets the sun<br>Has withering gazed--she saw and was undone;<br>His wealth allured her not--nor was she moved<br>By his superior state, himself she loved;<br>So mild, so good, so gracious, so genteel, -<br>But spare your sister, and her love conceal;<br>We must the fault forgive, since she the pain must </div><div style="margin:10px 0">feel.'<br>'Fault!' said the 'Squire, 'there's coarseness </div><div style="margin:10px 0">in the mind<br>That thus conceives of feelings so refined;<br>Here end my doubts, nor blame yourself, my friend,<br>Fate made you careless--here my doubts have end.'<br>The way is plain before us--there is now<br>The Lover's visit first, and then the vow,<br>Mutual and fond, the marriage-rite, the Bride<br>Brought to her home with all a husband's pride:<br>The 'Squire receives the prize his merits won,<br>And the glad parents leave the patron-son.<br>But in short time he saw, with much surprise,<br>First gloom, then grief, and then resentment rise,<br>From proud, commanding frowns, and anger-darting </div><div style="margin:10px 0">eyes:<br>'Is there in Harriot's humble mind this fire,<br>This fierce impatience?' ask'd the puzzled 'Squire:<br>'Has marriage changed her? or the mask she wore<br>Has she thrown by, and is herself once more?'<br>Hour after hour, when clouds on clouds appear,<br>Dark and more dark, we know the tempest near;<br>And thus the frowning brow, the restless form,<br>And threat'ning glance, forerun domestic storm:<br>So read the Husband, and, with troubled mind,<br>Reveal'd his fears--'My Love, I hope you find<br>All here is pleasant--but I must confess<br>You seem offended, or in some distress:<br>Explain the grief you feel, and leave me to </div><div style="margin:10px 0">redress.'<br>'Leave it to you?' replied the Nymph--'indeed!<br>What to the cause from whence the ills proceed?<br>Good Heaven! to take me from a place where I<br>Had every comfort underneath the sky;<br>And then immure me in a gloomy place,<br>With the grim monsters of your ugly race,<br>That from their canvas staring, make me dread<br>Through the dark chambers, where they hang, to </div><div style="margin:10px 0">tread.<br>No friend nor neighbour comes to give that joy<br>Which all things here must banish or destroy.<br>Where is the promised coach? the pleasant ride?<br>Oh! what a fortune has a Farmer's bride!<br>Your sordid pride has placed me just above<br>Your hired domestics--and what pays me? Love!<br>A selfish fondness I endure each hour,<br>And share unwitness'd pomp, unenvied power.<br>I hear your folly, smile at your parade,<br>And see your favourite dishes duly made;<br>Then am I richly dress'd for you t'admire,<br>Such is my duty and my Lord's desire:<br>Is this a life for youth, for health, for joy?<br>Are these my duties--this my base employ?<br>No! to my father's house will I repair,<br>And make your idle wealth support me there.<br>Was it your wish to have an humble bride,<br>For bondage thankful? Curse upon your pride!<br>Was it a slave you wanted? You shall see,<br>That, if not happy, I at least am free:<br>Well, sir! your answer.'--Silent stood the 'Squire,<br>As looks a miser at his house on fire;<br>Where all he deems is vanish'd in that flame,<br>Swept from the earth his substance and his name,<br>So, lost to every promised joy of life,<br>Our 'Squire stood gaping at his angry wife; -<br>His fate, his ruin, where he saw it vain<br>To hope for peace, pray, threaten, or complain;<br>And thus, betwixt his wonder at the ill<br>And his despair, there stood he gaping still.<br>'Your answer, sir!--Shall I depart a spot<br>I thus detest?'--'Oh, miserable lot!'<br>Exclaim'd the man. 'Go, serpent! nor remain<br>To sharpen woe by insult and disdain;<br>A nest of harpies was I doom'd to meet;<br>What plots, what combinations of deceit!<br>I see it now--all plann'd, design'd, contrived;<br>Served by that villain--by this fury wived -<br>What fate is mine! What wisdom, virtue truth,<br>Can stand if demons set their traps for youth?<br>He lose his way? vile dog! he cannot lose<br>The way a villain through his life pursues;<br>And thou, deceiver! thou afraid to move,<br>And hiding close the serpent in the dove!<br>I saw--but, fated to endure disgrace,<br>Unheeding saw--the fury in thy face,<br>And call'd it spirit. Oh: I might have found<br>Fraud and imposture all the kindred round!<br>A nest of vipers' -<br>'Sir, I'll not admit<br>These wild effusions of your angry wit:<br>Have you that value, that we all should use<br>Such mighty arts for such important views?<br>Are you such prize--and is my state so fair,<br>That they should sell their souls to get me there?<br>Think you that we alone our thoughts disguise?<br>When, in pursuit of some contended prize,<br>Mask we alone the heart, and soothe whom we </div><div style="margin:10px 0">despise?<br>Speak you of craft and subtle schemes, who know<br>That all your wealth you to deception owe;<br>Who play'd for ten dull years a scoundrel part,<br>To worm yourself into a Widow's heart?<br>Now, when you guarded, with superior skill,<br>That lady's closet, and preserved her Will,<br>Blind in your craft, you saw not one of those<br>Opposed by you might you in turn oppose,<br>Or watch your motions, and by art obtain<br>Share of that wealth you gave your peace to gain.<br>Did conscience never' -<br>'Cease, tormentor, cease -<br>Or reach me poison;--let me rest in peace!'<br>'Agreed--but hear me--let the truth appear.'<br>'Then state your purpose--I'll be calm and hear.'<br>'Know then, this wealth, sole object of your care,<br>I had some right, without your hand, to share;<br>My mother's claim was just--but soon she saw<br>Your power, compell'd, insulted, to withdraw:<br>'Twas then my father, in his anger, swore<br>You should divide the fortune, or restore.<br>Long we debated--and you find me now<br>Heroic victim to a father's vow;<br>Like Jephtha's daughter, but in different state,<br>And both decreed to mourn our early fate:<br>Hence was my brother servant to your pride,<br>Vengeance made him your slave, and me your bride.<br>Now all is known--a dreadful price I pay<br>For our revenge--but still we have our day:<br>All that you love you must with others share,<br>Or all you dread from their resentment dare: -<br>Yet terms I offer--let contention cease;<br>Divide the spoil, and let us part in peace.'<br>Our hero trembling heard--he sat, he rose -<br>Nor could his motions nor his mind compose;<br>He paced the room--and, stalking to her side,<br>Gazed on the face of his undaunted bride,<br>And nothing there but scorn and calm aversion </div><div style="margin:10px 0">spied.<br>He would have vengeance, yet he fear'd the law;<br>Her friends would threaten, and their power he saw;<br>'Then let her go:' but, oh! a mighty sum<br>Would that demand, since he had let her come;<br>Nor from his sorrows could he find redress,<br>Save that which led him to a like distress;<br>And all his ease was in his wife to see<br>A wretch as anxious and distress'd as he:<br>Her strongest wish, the fortune to divide,<br>And part in peace, his avarice denied;<br>And thus it happen'd, as in all deceit,<br>The cheater found the evil of the cheat;<br>The Husband griev'd--nor was the Wife at rest;<br>Him she could vex, and he could her molest;<br>She could his passion into frenzy raise,<br>But, when the fire was kindled, fear'd the blaze;<br>As much they studied, so in time they found<br>The easiest way to give the deepest wound;<br>But then, like fencers, they were equal still, -<br>Both lost in danger what they gain'd in skill;<br>Each heart a keener kind of rancour gain'd,<br>And, paining more, was more severely pain'd,<br>And thus by both was equal vengeance dealt,<br>And both the anguish they inflicted felt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Crabbe">George Crabbe</a><div class=q>
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'Squire Thomas flatter'd long a wealthy Aunt,
Who left him all that she could give or grant;
Ten years he tried, with all his craft and skill,
To fix the sovereign lady's varying will;
Ten years enduring..."></div>
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