Virtue in Danger: A Lamentable Story how a vertuous Lady had like to have been Ravished by her Sister's Footman

A Lamentable Story how a vertuous Lady had like to have been Ravished by her Sister's Footman.

To the Tune of The Children in the Wood.


Now ponder well ye Ladys fair,
These words that I shall write,
I'le tell a Tale shall make you stare
Of a poor Lady's fright.


She lay'd her down all in her Bed;
And soon began to snore;
It never came into her head
To lock her Chamber door.


A Footman of her Sister dear,
A Sturdy Scot was he
Without a Sense of Godly fear,
Bethought him wickedly.


Thought he, this Lady Lyes alone,
I like her comely face,
It would most gallantly be done,
Her body to embrace.


In order to this bold Attempt
He ran up Stairs apace;
While the poor Lady nothing dreamt,
Or dream't it was his Grace .


The Candle flaring in her Eyes
Made her full soon awake,
He scorn'd to do it by Surprize,
Or her a Sleeping take.


A Sword he had and it hard by
A thing appear'd with all
Which we for very Modesty
A Pistol chuse to call.


This Pistol in one hand he took
And thus began to woo her,
Oh how this tender Creature shooke
When he presented to her!


Lady quoth he, I must obtain
For I have lov'd you long;
Would you know how my heart you gaind
You had it for a Song.


Resolve to quench my present flame
Or you shall murderd be:
It were those pretty Eyes, fair Dame,
That first have murder'd me.


The Lady Lookt with fear around,
As in her Bed she lay,
And th├┤ half dying in a Swound,
Thus to her Self did say.


Who rashly judge (it is a Rule)
Do often judge amiss,
I thought this fellow was a Fool,
But there's some Sense in this.


She then recover'd heart of grace,
And did to him reply,
Sure Arthur you've forgot your place,
Or know not that 'tis I.


Do you consider who it is
That you thus rudely treat:
'Tis not for scoundrell Scrubs to wish
To tast their Master's Meat.


Tut, tut quoth he, I do not care;
And so pull'd down the Clothes:
Uncover'd lay the Lady fair
From bubby to her toes.


O Arthur, cover me, She said,
Or sure I shall get cold:
Which presently the Rogue obey'd;
He could not hear her Scold.


He lay'd his Sword close by her side;
Her heart went pit a pat:
You've but one weapon left, She cry'd,
Sure I can deal with that.


She saw the Looby frighted stand,
Out of the Bed jumpt She,
Catch'd hold of his so furious hand:
A Sight it was to See!


His Pistol hand she held fast clos'd
As She remembers well;
But how the other was dispos'd
There's none alive can tell.


The Sword full to his heart she lay'd
But yet did not him Slay;
For when he saw the Shining blade
GÔÇôd wot he run away.


When She was sure the Knave was gone
Out of her Father's Hall,
This vertuous Lady straight begun
Most grievously to bawl.


In came Papa and Mama dear,
Who wonder'd to behold:
Out Grisle! What a noise is here!
Why stand you in the Cold?


Mama, She said (and then She wept),
I have a Battle won;
But if that I had soundly Slept,
My honour had been gone.


A Footman of my Sister, he —
A footman? cry'd Mama,
Dear Daughter, this must never be,
Z — — ds we must go to Law.


This Lady's fame shall ever last
And live in British Song:
For She was like Lucretia chast,
And eke was much more strong.
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