The Pleasures of a Single Life | Page 7

if with his poisonous Breath,?He strives to Blacken the Brightest thing on Earth:?Woman! by Heaven her very Name's a charm,?And will my Verse against all Criticks Arm;?She Comforts Man in all his Sweats and Toils,?And richly pays his Pains, with Love and Smiles.?'Tis Woman makes the ravish'd Poet write;?'Tis lovly Woman makes the Souldier Fight:?Should that soft Sex refuse the World to bless,?'Twould soon be turn'd into a Wilderness.
A cursed Crow'd without all civil Rules,?A Herd of Drinking, Cheating, Fighting Fools;?Confusion, Madness would or'e spread the Stage,?And Man would be Destroy'd in one short Age;?Here Man must own, tho scarce without a Blush,?They rather do excel than Equal us;?As useful and more nimble are their Powers,?Their Judgments sharp, and sooner ripe than ours:?Yet foul Mouth'd Scribler, makes a publick Scorn,?On whom our great Redeemer he was Born;?But Sir! the Bays, they are so much their due;?They'l wear, inspite of impudence and you;?You are so hateful cruel and unjust,?To Load that Sex, with ugly brand of Lust:?_Those whome deserved Slights and losses vex,?Invent new Sins, and throw 'em on that Sex;?Whose thrifty wickedness the Sex forsakes,?He on these beauteous Fields a_ Sodom _makes:?He ne're assaults but where the Walls are slight,?True Bullies will with none but Cowards fight.?A vertuous Woman values fame too high, }?To let such Beastly Slaves her Walls come nigh, }?And that's the cause, he's now her Enemy: }?When the White flag you see by them hung out.?You then are wonderous daring bold and stout,?When once you but discover those within,?By their faint fire, have a low magazine.?A slender stock of Chastity in store, }?Your Oathes and Curses then like Cannon roar }?You Devil like; cry out a Whore, a Whore; }?But if a vertuous Wife you tempt in vain,?Who doth resist you with deserv'd disdain:?And forc'd to leave her with dispair and shame, }?Your Poisonous Tongue at least will blast her Fame, }?If her you can't; you'l ruin her good Name. }
Is this the single Life you boast so much,?Are these the Charmes, that does your Fancy tutch,?Are these the Blessings which you have enjoy'd,?Are these the arts your lustful thoughts imploy'd;?'Tis plain your roving fancy is far worse,?Than that Blest state which you esteem a Curse;?You make it so by your insatiate mind,?Unbounded lust can never be confin'd.?It is a Riddle which I can't unfould?That any Man, can such base notions hold,?Disgrace all order, Marriage Bed defy?And gives Mankind and God himself the lye,?It is a shame, that any Man of Sense,?Should have so damn'd a_ stock _of Impudence;?Controul his Maker; and with his Laws dispence.?Blasphemeous wretch, the scorn of human race,?The very spawn of what is vile and base:?Who with your cursed pen, you're not afraid?To cross the end for which Mankind was made;?Alas! what could poor helpless Man have done?If he had been to live on Earth alone,_?He'd been the worst of all God's vast Creation,?And sunk below the sence of procreation:?He'd muddl'd out his Days in private fear,?And when in sorrow none with him to share:?The Birds and Beasts each other chose his Mate,?And are above the stint of single Fate;?The whole Creation, hate's a single Life,?And shall not Man enjoy a loving Wife??Sure this Wife Hater, lately came from Hell?To teach poor single Mortals to rebel,?Against the sacred Laws of God and Man?From whence the state of Wedlock first began,?To make our Minds diviner charmes to suite,?Which makes the differance 'twixt a Man and Bruite;?But this blasphemous Scribler tramples down,?These antient Fences; of such great renown,?And Lanshes forth among the Shelves and Rocks?And plead's for plagues of single Life and Pox:?He Courts in Print, all others to be Lewd,?Condemns a Wife and swears he will be rude:?He talks of Roving from each Pole, to Pole,?And with fresh lustful pleasures drown his Soul:?He calls that ease, which Christians counts a Sin,?And walks the Road which Thives and Rogues go in:?He plainly tells how he does spend his time?His lazey progress, shewes what is his Crime?His baudy Books, with Calves skin fenced round,?A proof enough, wherein his faults abound.?He talks of moderation or'e a Glass }?But mentions none of that when with his Lass, }?He's Knave in Grain; a Blockhead and an Ass. }?Because a Cuckold's Life was his hard fate,?Must Wedlock be abused at this rate??Because he had a strumpit for his Wife,?He now commends a mopish single Life.?Let him content himself to live a Drone,?In some dark Corner of the World alone;?And trouble not his Brains with our blest State,?Which now is far above his wretched fate;?He talks of prayers a little while before,?And then he curss'd his Wife and call'd her whore.?Oh! meddley of confusion, never worse,?Must pray, then swear, give thanks to God and curse.?The Wife he lost, has faults as black as Hell. }?He sets her off, with a