Grave authors fay, and witty poets fing,
That honeft wedlock is a glorious thing:
But depth of judgment most in him appears,
Who wifely weds in his maturer years.
Then let him chufe a damfel young and fair,
To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;
To footh his cares, and, free from noife and ftrife,
Conduct him gently to the verge of life.
Let finful batchelors their woes deplore,
Full well they merit all they feel, and more:
Unaw'd by precepts human or divine,
Like birds and beafts promifcuously they join:
Nor know to make the present blessing last,
To hope the future, or esteem the past :
But vainly boast the joys they never try'd,
And find divulg'd the fecrets they would hide.
The marry'd man may bear his yoke with ease,
Secure at once himself and heaven to please;
And pass his inoffenfive hours away,
In blifs all night, and innocence all day :
Though fortune change, his conftant spouse remains, Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.
But what fo pure, which envious tongues will fpare? Some wicked wits have libel'd all the fair.
With matchless impudence they style a wife
The dear-bought curfe, and lawful plague of life;
A bofom-ferpent, a domeftic evil,
A night-invasion, and a mid-day devil.
Let not the wife these flanderous words regard,
But curfe the bones of every lying bard.
All other goods by fortune's hand are given,
A wife is the peculiar gift of heaven.
Vain fortune's favours, never at a stay,
Like empty fhadows, pafs, and glide away;
One folid comfort, our eternal wife,
Abundantly fupplies us all our life:
This bleffing lafts (if those who try say true)
As long as heart can wish-and longer too.
Our grandfire Adam, ere of Eve possest,
Alone, and ev'n in Paradife unbless'd,
The Maker faw, took pity, and bestow'd
With mournful looks the blissful scenes furvey'd,
And wander'd in the folitary fhade:
Woman, the last, the best referv'd of God.
A Wife! ah gentle deities, can he
That has a wife, e'er feel adverfity?
Would men but follow what the fex advise,
All things would profper, all the world
'Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won
His father's bleffing from an elder fon :
Abufive Nabal ow'd his forfeit life
To the wife conduct of a prudent wife :
Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,
Preferv'd the Jews, and flew th' Affyrian foe:
At Hefter's fuit, the perfecuting fword
Was fheath'd, and Ifrael liv'd to blefs 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 Christian comfort, call'd a wife.
His friends were fummon'd on a point fo nice,
To pass their judgment, and to give advice;
But fix'd before, and well refoly'd was he;
(As men that ask advice are wont to be.)
My friends, he cry'd (and cast a mournful look 85
Around the room, and figh'd before he spoke :)
Beneath the weight of threefcore years I bend,
And worn with cares, and haftening to my end;
How I have liv'd, alas! you know too well,
In worldly follies, which I blush to tell`;
But gracious heaven 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 fhall be content
When my defire 's approv'd by your confent.
One caution yet is needful to be told,
To guide your choice; this wife must not be old:
There goes a faying, and 'twas fhrewdly faid,
Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.
My foul abhors the tasteless, dry embrace
Of a stale virgin with a winter face:
In that cold season Love but treats his guest
With bean-straw, and tough forage at the best.
No crafty widows fhall approach my bed;
Those are too wife for batchelors to wed;
As fubtle clerks by many schools are made,
Twice-marry'd dames are mistreffes 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 sense amiss;
'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 should 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 feed to blefs the powers above,
And not for pleasure only, or for love.
Think not I doat; 'tis time to take a wife,
When vigorous blood forbids a chafter life:
Thofe that are bleft with store of grace divine,
May live like faints, by heaven's confent and mine.
And fince I fpeak of wedlock, let me say,
(As, thank my stars, in modeft truth I may)
My limbs are active, still I'm found at heart,
And a new vigour fprings in every part.
Think not my virtue loft, though time has shed
Thefe reverend honours on my hoary head;
Thus trees are crown'd with bloffoms white as fnow,
The vital fap then rifing from below:
Old as I am, my lufty limbs
Like winter greens, that flourish all the year.
Now, Sirs, you know to what I stand inclin❜d,
Let every friend with freedom speak his mind.
He faid; the reft in different 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 reafon 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 call'd, and Justin that.
First 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!
Yet you purfue fage 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 rest
As ftill I hold your own advice the best.
Sir, I have liv'd a Courtier all my days,
And ftudy'd men, their manners, and their ways;
And have obferv'd this useful maxim ftill,
To let my betters always have their will.
Nay, if my
Lord affirm'd that black was white,
My word was this, Your honour's in the right.
Th' affuming Wit, who deems himself so wife,
As his mistaken patron to advise,
Let him not dare to vent his dangerous thought,
A noble fool was never in a fault.
This, Sir, affects not you, whose every 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 fo to man!
At least, your courage all the world must praise,
Who dare to wed in your declining days.
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