Go, boaft your Springal, by his Beauty curft To Ills; nor think I have declar'd the worst; His Form procures him Journey-work; a Strife Betwixt Town Madams, and the Merchant's Wife: Guefs, when he undertakes this publick War, What furious Beafts offended Cuckolds are.
Adult'rers are with Dangers round befet; Born under Mars, they cannot 'scape the Net; - And from revengeful Husbands oft have try'd Worfe handling, than fevereft Laws provide: One ftabs; one flashes; one, with cruel Art, Makes Colon fuffer for the peccant Part.
But your Endymion, your smooth, fmock-fac'd Boy, Unrivall'd, fhall a beauteous Dame enjoy : Not fo: One more Salacious, Rich, and Old, Out-bids, and buys her Pleasure for her Gold: Now he must moil, and drudge, for one he loaths: She keeps him high, in Equipage and Clothes: She pawns her Jewels, and her rich Attire, And thinks the Workman worthy of his Hire: In all things elfe immoral, ftingy, mean; But, in her Lufts, a confcionable Quean.
She may be handsom, yet be chaste, you fay: - Good Obfervator, not fo taft away:
Did it not coft the 3 modeft Youth his Life, Who fhunn'd th'Embraces of his Father's Wife? And was not t'other 24 Strippling forc'd to fly, Who, coldly, did his Patron's Queen deny; And pleaded Laws of Hospitality?.
23 Hippolitus, the Son of time at the Court of Patus Thefeus, was lov'd by his Mo-King of the Argives, the ther-in-Law Phadra. But he Queen, Sthenobaa, fell in Love not complying with her, he with him. But he refufing her, procured his Death. The turned the Accufation upon him; and he narrowly efcap'd Patus's Vengeance.
24 Bellerophon, the Son of King Glaucus, refiding fome
The Ladies charg'd 'em home, and turn'd the Tale: With Shame they redden'd, and with Spight grew pale. 'Tis dang'rous to deny the longing Dame;
She lofes Pity, who has loft her Shame.
Now 25 Silius wants thy Counsel, give Advice; Wed Cafar's Wife, or die; the Choice is nice. Her Comet-Eyes she darts on ev'ry Grace; And takes a fatal Liking to his Face.
Adorn'd with Bridal Pomp the fits in State; The Publick Notaries and Arufpex wait: The Genial Bed is in the Garden dreft: The Portion paid, and ev'ry Rite express'd, Which in a Roman Marriage is profest. 'Tis no ftol'n Wedding, this, rejecting Awe, She fcorns to marry, but in Form of Law: In this Moot-cafe, your Judgment: To refuse Is present Death, befides the Night you lofe: If you confent, 'tis hardly worth your pain; A Day or two of anxious Life you gain: Till loud Reports through all the Town have past, And reach the Prince: For Cuckolds hear the laft: Indulge thy Pleasure, Youth, and take thy swing: For not to take, is but the fclf-fame thing: Inevitable Death before thee lies;
But looks more kindly through a Lady's Eyes. What then remains? Are we depriv'd of Will Must we not wish, for fear of wishing Ill? Receive my Counsel, and securely move; Intrust thy Fortune to the Pow'rs above.
Wedding, whilst Claudius Cafar was Sacrificing at Hoftia. Upon his return, he put both Silius and her to Death,
25 Meffalina, Wife to the, with all the Formalities of a Emperor Claudius, Infamous for her Lewdnefs. She fet her Eyes upon c. Silius, a fine Youth; forc'd him to quit his own Wife, and Marry her
Leave them to manage for thee, and to grant What their unerring Wisdom fees thee want: In Goodness as in Greatness they excel; Ah that we lov'd our felves but half fo well! We, blindly by our headftrong Paffions led, Are hot for Action, and defire to Wed; Then with for Heirs: But to the Gods alone Our future Off-fpring, and our Wives, are known; Th'audacious Strumpet, and ungracious Son. Yet, not to rob the Priests of pious Gain, That Altars be not wholly built in vain; Forgive the Gods the reft, and ftand confin'd To Health of Body, and Content of Mind: A Soul, that can fecurely Death defie, And count it Nature's Privilege to die; Serene and manly, hardned to sustain The Load of Life, and exercis'd in Pain : Guiltless of Hate, and Proof against Defire; That all things weighs, and nothing can admire: That dares prefer the Toils of Hercules To Dalliance, Banquets, and ignoble Eafe. The Path to Peace is Virtue: what I fhow, Thy felf may freely on thy felf beftow: Fortune was never worshipp'd by the Wife; But, fet aloft by Fools, ufurps the Skies.
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