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No sooner was it bolted, than—Oh shame!

       O sin! Oh sorrow! and oh womankind!

       How can you do such things and keep your fame,

       Unless this world, and t' other too, be blind?

       Nothing so dear as an unfilch'd good name!

       But to proceed—for there is more behind:

       With much heartfelt reluctance be it said,

       Young Juan slipp'd half-smother'd, from the bed.

       He had been hid—I don't pretend to say

       How, nor can I indeed describe the where—

       Young, slender, and pack'd easily, he lay,

       No doubt, in little compass, round or square;

       But pity him I neither must nor may

       His suffocation by that pretty pair;

       'T were better, sure, to die so, than be shut

       With maudlin Clarence in his Malmsey butt.

       And, secondly, I pity not, because

       He had no business to commit a sin,

       Forbid by heavenly, fined by human laws,

       At least 't was rather early to begin;

       But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws

       So much as when we call our old debts in

       At sixty years, and draw the accompts of evil,

       And find a deuced balance with the devil.

       Of his position I can give no notion:

       'T is written in the Hebrew Chronicle,

       How the physicians, leaving pill and potion,

       Prescribed, by way of blister, a young belle,

       When old King David's blood grew dull in motion,

       And that the medicine answer'd very well;

       Perhaps 't was in a different way applied,

       For David lived, but Juan nearly died.

       What 's to be done? Alfonso will be back

       The moment he has sent his fools away.

       Antonia's skill was put upon the rack,

       But no device could be brought into play—

       And how to parry the renew'd attack?

       Besides, it wanted but few hours of day:

       Antonia puzzled; Julia did not speak,

       But press'd her bloodless lip to Juan's cheek.

       He turn'd his lip to hers, and with his hand

       Call'd back the tangles of her wandering hair;

       Even then their love they could not all command,

       And half forgot their danger and despair:

       Antonia's patience now was at a stand—

       'Come, come, 't is no time now for fooling there,'

       She whisper'd, in great wrath—'I must deposit

       This pretty gentleman within the closet:

       'Pray, keep your nonsense for some luckier night—

       Who can have put my master in this mood?

       What will become on 't—I 'm in such a fright,

       The devil 's in the urchin, and no good—

       Is this a time for giggling? this a plight?

       Why, don't you know that it may end in blood?

       You 'll lose your life, and I shall lose my place,

       My mistress all, for that half-girlish face.

       'Had it but been for a stout cavalier

       Of twenty-five or thirty (come, make haste)—

       But for a child, what piece of work is here!

       I really, madam, wonder at your taste

       (Come, sir, get in)—my master must be near:

       There, for the present, at the least, he's fast,

       And if we can but till the morning keep

       Our counsel—(Juan, mind, you must not sleep).'

       Now, Don Alfonso entering, but alone,

       Closed the oration of the trusty maid:

       She loiter'd, and he told her to be gone,

       An order somewhat sullenly obey'd;

       However, present remedy was none,

       And no great good seem'd answer'd if she stay'd:

       Regarding both with slow and sidelong view,

       She snuff'd the candle, curtsied, and withdrew.

       Alfonso paused a minute—then begun

       Some strange excuses for his late proceeding;

       He would not justify what he had done,

       To say the best, it was extreme ill-breeding;

       But there were ample reasons for it, none

       Of which he specified in this his pleading:

       His speech was a fine sample, on the whole,

       Of rhetoric, which the learn'd call 'rigmarole.'

       Julia said nought; though all the while there rose

       A ready answer, which at once enables

       A matron, who her husband's foible knows,

       By a few timely words to turn the tables,

       Which, if it does not silence, still must pose—

       Even if it should comprise a pack of fables;

       'T is to retort with firmness, and when he

       Suspects with one, do you reproach with three.

       Julia, in fact, had tolerable grounds—

       Alfonso's loves with Inez were well known,

       But whether 't was that one's own guilt confounds—

       But that can't be, as has been often shown,

       A lady with apologies abounds;—

       It might be that her silence sprang alone

       From delicacy to Don Juan's ear,

       To whom she knew his mother's fame was dear.

       There might be one more motive, which makes two;

       Alfonso ne'er to Juan had alluded—

       Mention'd his jealousy but never who

       Had been the happy lover, he concluded,

       Conceal'd amongst his premises; 't is true,

       His mind the more o'er this its mystery brooded;

       To speak of Inez now were, one may say,

       Like throwing Juan in Alfonso's way.

       A hint, in tender cases, is enough;

       Silence is best, besides there is a tact

       (That modern phrase appears to me sad stuff,

       But it will serve to keep my verse compact)—

       Which keeps, when push'd by questions rather rough,

       A lady always distant from the fact:

       The charming creatures lie with such a grace,

       There 's nothing so becoming to the face.

       They blush, and we believe them; at least I

       Have always done so; 't is of no great use,

       In any case, attempting a reply,

       For then their

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