Virtue in Danger:
Or Arthur Grays last Farewell to the World.
Written by a Gentleman at St, Jamess; [Tune, of Chivy Chase.]
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NOw ponder well you Ladies fair,
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These words that I shall write;
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Ill tell a Tale shall make you stare,
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Of a poor Ladies fright.
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She laid her down all in her Bed,
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And soon began to snore
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It never came into her Head
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To lock her Chamber-door.
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A Footman of her Sisters dear,
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A sturdy Scot was He;
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Wi[t]hout a sence of Godly fear,
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Bethought him wickedly.
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Thought he, this Lady lies alone,
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I like her comely Face;
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It would most gallantly be done,
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Her Body to embrace.
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In order to this bold Attempt,
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He ran up-Stairs apace;
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While she poor Lady, nothing dreamt,
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Or, dreamt it was His Grace.
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The Candle, flaring in her Eyes,
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Made her full soon awake;
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He scornd to do it, by Surprize,
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Or, her a Sleeping take.
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His Pistol in one Hand he took,
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And thus began to Wooe her;
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Oh, how this tender Creature shook,
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When he presented to her.
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Lady quoth he, I must obtain,
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For I have lovd You long,
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Woud You know how my Heart You gaind,
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You had it for a Song,
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Resolve to quench my present Flame,
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Or You shall Murderd be:
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It was those pretty Eyes, fair Dame,
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That first have Murderd me.
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The Lady lookd with Fear around,
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As in her Bed she lay;
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And tho half Dying in a Swoon,
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Thus to her self did say.
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Who rashly judge it is a Rule,
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Do often judge amiss;
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I thought this Fellow was a Fool,
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But theres some Sence in this.
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She then recoverd Heart o Grace
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And did to him reply;
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Sure Arthur Youve forgot Your place,
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Or know not that tis I. ------
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Do You consider who it is,
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That You thus rudely treat;
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Tis not for Scoundrel scrubs to wish
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To tast, their Masters Meat,
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Tut, Tut quoth He, I do not care,
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And so puld down the Cloths;
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Uncoverd lay this Lady fair,
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From Bubby to the Toes.
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Oh! Arthur cover me she said,
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Or sure I shall get Cold;
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Which presently the Rogue obeyd,
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He could not hear her Scold.
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He laid his Sword close by Her side,
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Her Heart went Pit a Pat,
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You have but one Weapon left she cryd,
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Sure I can deal with That.
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She saw the Looby frighted, straight,
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Out of the Bed jumpd she;
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Catchd hold of His so furious Hand,
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A sight it was to see.
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His Pistol-Hand, she held fast closd;
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As she remembers well:
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But now the other was disposd,
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Theres none alive can tell.
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The Sword full to his Heart she laid,
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But yet did not Him slay;
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For when He saw the shineing Blade,
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God wot, He ran away.
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When she was sure, the Knave was gone
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Out of Her Fathers Hall;
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This virtuous Lady, straight began
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Most grievously to bawl.
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In came Pappa, and Mamma dear,
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Who wonderd to behold;
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Oot Grisle, what a noise is here,
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Why stand You in the Cold?
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Mamma she said, and then she wept,
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I have a Battle won:
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But if that I, had soundly Slept,
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My Honour had been gone.
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A Footman of my Sisters He,
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A Footman! cryd Mamma;
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Dear Daughter this must never be,
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And We not go to Law.
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This Ladies Fame, shall ever last,
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And live in British Song;
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For she was like Lucretia Chast,
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And eke was much more Strong.
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