The following lines,
printed on a large card, appeared hanging from one of the pillars in the
aisle near the stool:
[Illustration: TOMBS IN THE BEAUCHAMP CHAPEL.]
[Illustration: THE DUCKING-STOOL, WARWICK.]
There stands, my friend, in yonder pool,
An engine called a Ducking Stool;
By legal power commanded down,
The joy, and terror of the town.
If jarring females kindle strife,
Give language foul, or lug the coif:
If noisy dames should once begin
To drive the house with horrid din,
Away! you cry, you'll grace the stool
We'll teach you how your tongue to rule.
Down in the deep the stool descends,
But here, at first, we miss our ends,
She mounts again, and rages more
Than ever vixen did before.
If so, my friend, pray let her take
A second turn into the lake;
And rather than your patience lose
Thrice and again, repeat the dose,
No brawling wives, no furious wenches
No fire so hot, but water quenches.
[Illustration: THE DUCKING-STOOL, LEOMINSTER]
The stool was exactly like a chair without legs, fastened on one end of
a long pole, in the centre of which was a framework with solid wooden
wheels. The culprit was fastened in the chair with her face towards the
men, who were at the other end of the pole, and who had to push and
guide the machine through the narrow streets of the town until they
reached the "deep hole," where the unfortunate woman had to be ducked
overhead in the river.
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