The Pleasures of a Single Life | Page 8

most dismal smell, }?But not one silible of his own he'l tell. }
He owns his Cuckoldom, and which is worse;?How then the Cuckold su'd out his Divorce:?No doubts, the Wife, that he has Abdicated,?(Had he been good,) her ills had been abated:?But Women when provok'd, without a Cause,?They like enraged subjects, breaks the Lawes:?His Whip and Spur, was too unkindly us'd;?The weaker Vessel must not be abus'd.?If he too strictly held her by the reins,?He must accept the Cuckold for his pains.
Farewel, thou scandal of a married Life,?Thou single Fop, grand Hater of a Wife;?Thou Plague to Churches, and to Women too,?'Tis time for either, to have done with you:?No more attempt, Heavens Laws for to confute,?No more advise Mankind, to be a Bruite;?_But spend they Days in some dark, lonesome Cave,?And to thy bruitish Lust be still a Slave._?Go sneak in some vile Corner of the Earth,?With Pox and Plagues, resign thy poisonous Breath,?And may the worst of Torturs be thy Death.
FINIS.
THE Ladies Choice:?A POEM.
LONDON
Printed, and Sold by J. How_, and _B. Bragg_, at the _Blew-Ball in Avemary-Lane_, next _Ludgate-Street, 1702.
THE LADIES CHOICE.
Melissa Belinda.
Melissa.
Prithee, Belinda (for thou know'st I'm Young,?Unskill'd in Arts that to our Sex belong)?Thy wiser Counsels to my Youth impart;?Teach me at once to Love_, and _Guard my Heart;?That I have Wit_, can _Sing_ and _Dance you know,?And the Men tell me I am Pretty too;?I now have Fifteen pleasing Summers seen,?And have been Courted by twice Fifteen Men;?Still fresh Pretenders do my Peace Invade,?They Write_, they _Visit, Sigh_ and _Serenade,?And try allways to Catch a Harmless Maid.
Then since our Virgin Thoughts are apt to Rove,?And few escape that Noble Passion Love,?Teach me, Belinda, by thy Arts to Chuse?What Suiters to Admit, and which Refuse._
Belinda.
Melissa, I am glad you're so Discreet, }?For, that to more Experience you'll submit, }?Argues your want of Vanity_, not _Wit. }
And yet, my Dear, 'tis difficult t' Advise, }?Fools_ are so Plenty, and so Scarce the _Wise: }?To judge of Men, we shou'd not Trust our Eyes; }?Outward Appearance may Delude the Sight;?Nor is it good to gaze too near the Light:?For tho' your Beauty, like a Painted Scene,?May Dang'rous prove to the Vile Race of Men,?Who at the greater distance do Admire,?And shun the heat of Love's Important Fire.?Whose Little God, like lesser Thieves, unseen, }?Steals to our Hearts, we scarce know how or when, }?His Standard hoists and Guards the Fort Within; }?Then like a Tyrant does our Peace Controul,?And absolutely Lords it o'er the Soul:?Thus, with your Heart_, your _Fortune he'll Dispose:?He does the Man_, you but the _Husband chuse.?And tho' a Fool_, you must the _Wretch receive;?For where we Love, we soon our Persons give.
Therefore, Melissa, wisely Guard your Heart;?What Nature_ won't defend, defend by _Art:
Shun, I advise you, most Devoutly shun,?Those Servile Apes that swarm about the Town;?Pert, Noisie Coxcombs, Self-admiring Beaux,?Known by their want_ of _Wit_, and _Gawdy Cloaths:
Of all the Creatures Nature does provide,?To stock the World from Ignorance_ to _Pride;?Of all that from her various Bosom spring,?A Beau I think the oddest kind of thing;?A selfish Compound, singular, and Vain,?Half Ass_, half _Puppet_, and the least of _Man;?One that seems just for Nature's Pastime made,?A Gawdy_ Carcass, with an _Empty Head;?Whose only Knowledge_ lies in _modish Dress,?And seldom looks much further than his Glass.?A Creature only Govern'd by his Will;?And never Reads_ above a _Taylors Bill;?A Wretch extreamly Whimsical_ and _Proud,?Stiff in Opinion, Talkative_ and _Loud;?And that which most Compleatly Arms the Fool,?Is, That the Fop's Emphatically dull.?That such, Melissa, may Address, 'tis true,?Write a soft Song_, or senseless _Billetdoux,?But 'tis Themselves_ they _Admire_ in't, not _You:?And she that's basely Yok'd with one of these,?Must e'en be Wedded to his Vanities;?Doat on a Thing that scarce deserves a Name,?While he with Slights rewards her Vertuous Flame:?For tell me, can he less Indifferent prove,?Who thinks no Woman can Deserve his Love??No, no, Melissa, never think he can;?For if you do, you're Cozen'd in your Man.
Self-Affectation sways his little Sense;?Nought but Himself_ he Loves, and _Ignorance.?By fatal Chance, if such a Man you Wed,?Better, Melissa, thou had'st Dy'd a Maid:?Ev'n such a Lover, were a Plague too great;?From such a Husband, Guard me, Oh my Fate!
Shun too, my Dear, the Lewder Wits o' th' Town,?As watchfully as they'd avoid a Dun.?For such a Man too soon wou'd let you see,?Lewdness_ and _Marriage do but ill Agree.?Oft at the Theatre such Sparks I've seen, }?With Rakish Looks, half Drunk, come Reeling in; }?Tossing their Wigs_, their _Backs against the Scene. }?Regardless of the Play (a Mark of Wit)?Bow to some Lewd Companion in the Pit.?Take Snuff, fling round, in the Side-Box be seen,?Whisper a Mask, and then Retire again,?To some Lov'd Tavern, where's their chief Delight, }?There in Debaucheries they spend the Night, }?Then Stagger homeward