At Efther's fuit the perfecuting fword
Was fheath'd, and Ifrael liv'd to biefs the Lord.
Thefe weighty motives January the fage
Maturely ponder'd in his riper age;
And, charm'd with virtuous joys, and sober life,
Would try that Chriftian comfort call'd a Wife.
His friends were fummon'd on a point fo nice
To pafs their judgment, and to give advice;
But fix'd before, and well refolv'd was he,.
(As men that afk advice are wont to be.)
My friends, he cry'd, (and caft a mournful look
Around the room, and sigh'd before he spoke;)
Beneath the weight of threefcore years I bend,
And, worn with cares, am haft'ning to my end:
How I have liv'd, alas! you know too well,
In worldly follies, which I blush to tell;
But gracious Heav'n has ope'd my eyes at last,
With due regret I view my vices past,
And, as the precept of the Church decrees,
Will take a wife, and live in holy ease:
But fince by counfel all things fhould be done,
And many heads are wiser still than one,
Chufe you for me, who beft thall be content
When my defire's approv`d by your consent.
One caution yet is needful to be told
To guide your choice; this wife must not be old.
There goes a faying, and 'twas threwdly faid,
Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.
My foul abhors the taftelefs, dry embrace
Of a stale virgin with a winter face:
In that cold feafon Love but treats his guest
With bean ftraw, and tough forage at the best.
No crafty widows fhall approach my bed;
Thofe are too wife for bachelors to wed.
As fubtle clerks by many fchools are made,
Twice marri'd dames are mistresses o' th' trade:
But young and tender virgins, rul'd with ease,
We form like wax, and mould them as we please.
Conceive me, Sirs, nor take my fenfe amifs;
'Tis what concerns my foul's eternal bliss;
Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse,
As flesh is frail, and who (God help me) knows?
Then thould I live in lewd adultery,
And fink downright to Satan when I die:
Or were I curs'd with an unfruitful bed,
The righteous end were loft for which I wed;
To raise up feed to blefs the Pow'rs above,
And not for pleasure only, or for love.
Think not I dote; 'tis time to take a wife,
When vig'rous blood forbids a chaster life :
Those that are bleft with store of grace divine,
May live like faints by Heav'n's confent and mine.
And fince I fpeak of wedlock, let me fay,
(As, thank my stars, in modeft truth I may,)
My limbs are active, ftill I'm found at heart,
And a new vigour fprings in ev'ry part.
Think not my virtue lost, though time has shed
These rev'rend honours on my hoary head:
Thus trees are crown'd with bloffoms white as snow,
The vital fap then riîing from below.
Old as I am, my lufty imos appear
Like winter greens, that flourish all the year.
Now, Sirs, ye know to what I ftand inclin'd,
Let ev'ry friend with freedom speak his mind.
He faid; the reft in diff'rent parts divide;
The knotty point was urg'd on either fide:
Marriage, the theme on which they all declaim'd,
Some prais'd with wit, and fome with reason blam'd,
Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies,
Each wondrous pofitive, and wondrous wife,
There fell between his brothers a debate;
Placebo this was cali'd, and Juftin that.
Firft to the Knight Placebo thus begun ;
(Mild were his looks, and pleafing was his tone.)
Such prudence, Sir, in all your words appears,
As plainly proves experience dwells with years! 150
Yet you purfue iage Solomon's advice,
To work by counfel when affairs are nice:
But, with the Wife Man's leave, I must proteft,
So may my foul arrive at eafe and reft,
As ftill I hold your own advice the best.
Sir, I have liv'd a courtier all my days,
And study'd men, their manners, and their ways;
And have obferv'd this useful maxim still,
To let my betters always have their will.
Nay, if my Lord affirm'd that black was white,、 160
My word was this, "Your Honour's in the right."
Th' affuming wit, who deems himself so wise,
As his mistaken patron to advise,
Let him not dare to vent his dang'rous thought;
A noble fool was never in a fault.
This, Sir, affects not you, whofe ev'ry word
Is weigh'd with judgment, and befits a lord:
Your will is mine; and is (I will maintain)
Pleafing to God, and fhould be so to man;
At least, your courage all the world must praise, 170
Who dare to wed in your declining days.
Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,
And let gray fools be indolently good,
Who, paft all pleasure, damn the joys of fenfe
With rev'rend dulnefs and grave impotence.
Juftin, who filent fate, and heard the man,
Thus, with a philofophic frown, began.
A Heathen author, of the first degree,
(Who, though not faith, had sense as well as we,)
Bids us be certain our concerns to trust
To thofe of gen'rous principles and juft.
The venture's greater, I'll prefume to say,
To give your perfon than your goods away:
And therefore, Sir, as you regard your reft,
First learn your lady's qualities at least:
Whether fhe's chafte or rampant, proud or civil,
Meek as a faint, or haughty as the devil;
Whether an eafy, fond, familiar fool,
Or fuch a wit as no man e'er can rule.
'Tis true, perfection none must hope to find In all this world, much lefs in womankind; But if her virtues prove the larger share,
Blefs the kind Fates, and think your fortune rare.
Ah, gentle Sir, take warning of a friend,
Who knows too well the ftate you thus commend; 195
And, fpite of all his praises, muft declare,
All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.
Heav'n knows fhed full many a private tear,
And figh in filence, left the world should hear;
While all my friends applaud my blissful life,
And fwear no mortal's happier in a wife;
Demure and chafte as any veftal nun,'
The meekeft creature that beholds the fun!
But, by th' immortal Pow'rs, I feel the pain,
And he that fmarts has reafon to complain.
Do what you lift for me: you must be fage,
And cautious fure; for wifdom is in age:
But at these years to venture on the fair!
By him who made the ocean, earth and air,
To please a wife, when her occafions call,
Would bufy the most vig'rous of us all.
And trust me, Sir, the chafteft you can chufe
Will afk obfervance, and exact her dues.
If what I speak my noble Lord offend,
My tedious fermon here is at an end.
'Tis well, 'tis wondrous well, the Knight replies;
Moft worthy kinfman, faith you're mighty wife!
We, Sirs, are fools; and must refign the caufe
To Heath'nifh authors, proverbs, and old faws.
He spoke with fcorn, and turn'd another way: 220
What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?
I fay, quoth he, by Heav'n the man's to blame,
To flander wives, and wedlock's holy name.
At this the council rofe, without delay;
Each, in his own opinion, went his way;
With full confent, that, all difputes appeas'd,
The Knight fhould marry, when and where he pleas'd. Who now but January exults with joy?
The charms of wedlock all his foul employ:
Each nymph by turns his wav'ring mind poffeft, 230
And reign'd the short-liv'd tyrant of his breaft;
Whilft Fancy pictur'd ev'ry lively part,
And each bright image wander'd o'er his heart.
Thus, in fome public forum fix'd on high,
A mirror fhows the figures moving by ;
Still one by one, in swift fucceffion, pass
The gliding fhadows o'er the polifh'd glass.
This lady's charms the niceft could not blame,
But vile fufpicions had afpers'd her fame;
That was with fenfe, but not with virtue, bleft; 240
And one had grace, that wanted all the reft.
Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey,
He fix'd at last upon the youthful May.
Her faults he knew not, love is always blind,
But ev'ry charm revolv'd within his mind :
Her tender age, her form divinely fair,
Her eafy motion, her attractive air,
Her fweet behaviour, her inchanting face,
Her moving foftness, and majestic grace.
Much in his prudence did our Knight rejoice,
And thought no mortal could dispute his choice.
Once more in hafte he fummon'd ev'ry friend,
And told them all their pains were at an end.
Heav'n, that (faid he) inspir'd me first to wed,
Provides a confort worthy of my bed:
Let none oppole th' election, fince on this
Depends my quiet, and my future bliss.
A dame there is, the darling of my eyes,
Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and wife;
Chafte, though not rich; and, though not nobly born,
Of honeft parents, and may serve my turn.
Her will I wed, if gracious Heav'n so please,
To pafs my age in fanctity and ease;
And, thank the Pow'rs, I may poffefs alone
The lovely prize, and share my bliss with none! 265 If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,
My joys are full, my happiness is fure.
One only doubt remains: full oft, I've heard, By caluifts grave, and deep divines, averr'd, That 'tis too much for human race to know The blifs of heav'n above, and earth below: Now fhould the nuptial pleasures prove fo great, To match the bleffings of the future state, Thofe endlefs joys were ill exchang'd for thefe; Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at ease. 275
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