The Country Justice. a Tale

Sir John, a country Magistrate, Of good round belly, hobbling gait, Well know at ev'ry merry meeting, Fam'd both for justice and for eating, Was most severe, as stories tell us, Aga oft the younger sprightly fellows: When frolicksome, for youth are wild, They chanc'd to get the maids with child, Would sternly take the cause in hand, And both the parties reprimand; With utmost rigour would enforce The rigid laws that came in course; Nor ever in the least excuse That slight faux pas so much in use. And yet by some 'twas shrewdly thought, That he himself was sometimes naught; And those who heard what neighbours said, Had little doubt he kiss'd his maid. But strangely Time brings things about, As murder some odd time will out; And so it chanc'd, one luckless night, When love unusual fir'd the knight, His post so boldly he maintain'd, The fatal growing proof remain'd; For scarce six months were gone and past, Ere Betty swell'd about the waist: But warn'd before of this disaster, The fearful wench inform'd her master; Who—as it is the sinner's way, To put far off the evil day— Neglects her till so large it made her, That to the neighbours it betray'd her. Now good Sir John begins to stir, And trembles for his character; Advises Betty, full of care, The bastard not on him to swear; And if she'll put disgrace aside, He'll for the child and her provide. Betty, whose conscience wond'rous nice is, Is puzzl'd in this doubtful crisis: But truth beyond her virtue prizes, And th' offer secretly despises; Yet, as her circumstances lay, Conjectur'd 'twas the wisest way, Resentment and her thoughts to smother, And say she'll lay it to another. The knight thus eas'd, commits each whore, And acts with rigour as before; And tho' oft told of Betty's failing, Pretends to disbelieve their railing; Till time run on, and Betty grew So large to each impartial view, That now the danger was the same, Against the cautious knight's good name: When now to keep his fame he thought, And ordered Betty to be brought. The quorum sat; the blushing wench In publick stood before the bench, Sir John, who thought himself secure, Began to thunder out his power; Demands aloud, who has beguil'd Th' unhappy maid, and got the child. The book's held out, she stoops to kiss it— And, "If I must disclose who is it," She cried—"that hath my truth beguil'd, Sir John is father to the child!" Now sudden grief, surprize, and shame, O'er whelm the knight, and blast his fame. The tale each stand'rous tongue reveals, And swells the story as it tells: To truth they add a thousand lies; And shame increasing as it flies, Each girl unpunish'd stains her gown, And bastards swarm throughout the town.