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Whither woud' It thou to chuse a Wife resort,
The Park, the Mall, the Play-house, or the Court?
Which way soever thy Adventures fall,
Secure alike of Chastity in all.

One sees a Dancing. Master cap'ring high,
And Raves, and Piffes, with pure Ecstasie:
Another does, with all his Motions, move,
And gapes, and grins, as in the Feat of Love:
A third is charm'd with the new Opera Notes,
Admires the Song, but on the Singer dores:
The Country Lady in the Box appears,
Softly she warbles over all the hears ;
And sucks in Passion, both at Eyes and Ears.

The rest, (when now the long Vacation's come;
The noisy Hall and Theatres grown dumb)
Their Mem'ries to refreíh, and chear their Hearts,
In borrow'd Breeches act the Players Parts.
The poor, that scarce have wherewithal to eat,
Will pinch, to make the Singing Boy a Tréår:
The Rich, to buy him, will refuse no Price;
And stretch his Quail-pipe till they crack his voice.
Tragedians, acting Love, for Lust are fought ::
(Tho'but the Parrots of a Poce's Thought.)
The Pleading Lawyer, tho' for Counsel us’d,
In Chamber. Practice often is refus'd.
Still thou wilt have a Wife, and father Heirs;
(The product of concurring Theatres.)
Perhaps a Fencer did thy Brows adorn,
And a young Sword-man to thy Lands is born.

Thus Hippia loath'd her cld Patrician Lord,
And left him for a Brother of the Sword:
To wondring? Pharos with her Love she fled,
To fhew one Monster more than Africk bred :

7 Şhe filed to Egypt ; which wonder'd at the Enormity of her Crime.

Forgetting

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Forgetting House and Husband, left behind,
Ev'n Children too; she fails before the Wind;
False to 'em all, but constant to her Kind.
But, ftranger yet, and harder to conceive,
She cou'd the Play-house and the Players leave.
Born of rich Parentage, and nicely bred,
She lodg'd on Down, and in a Damask Bed;
Yet daring now the Dangers of the Deep,
On a hard Mattress is content to sleep.
Ere this, 'ris true, she did her Fame expose :
But that, great Ladies with great Ease can lose.
The tender Nymph cou'd the rude Ocean bear :
So much her Lúst was stronger than her Fear.
But had some honest Cause her Paffage prest,
The smallest Hardthip had disturbid her Breast:
Each Inconvenience makes their Virtue cold:
But Womankind, in Ills, is ever bold.
Were Me to follow her own Lord to Sea,
What Doubts and Scruples wou'd she raise to stay?
Her Stomach fick, and her Head giddy grows;
The Tar and Pirch are nauseous to her Nofe.
But in Love's Voyage nothing can offend;
Women are never Sea-fick with a Friend..
Amidst the Crew, she walks upon the Board ;
She eats, she drinks, she handles every Cord:
And, if she spews, 'tis thinking of her Lord.
Now ask, for whom her Friends and Fame the lost?
What Youth, what Beauty cou'd th’ Adult'rer boast ?
What was the face, for which the cou'd fuftain
To be callid Mistress to so base a Man?
The Gallant, of his Days had known the best:
Deep Scars were seen indented on his Breast;
And all his batter'd Limbs requir'd their needful Rest.
A Promontory Wen, with griefly Grace,
Stood high, upon the Handle of bis Face :

His

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His b'ear Eyes ran in Gütters to his Chin :
His Beard was Srabble, and his Checks were thin.
But ’ was his Fencing did her Fancy more:
'Tis Arms and Blood and Cruelty they love,
But shou'd be quit his Trade, and thcath bås Sword,
Her Lover wou'd begin to be her Lord.

This was a private Crime; but you fhall bear
What Fruits the Sacred Brows of Monarchs bear:
The good old Sluggard but began to friore,
When from his lide up rose th' Imperial Whore :
She who preferr'd the pleasures of the Night
To Pomps, that are but impotent Delight:
Strode from the Palace, with an eager pace,
To cope with a more masculine Embrace:
Muffled Me: march’d, like quid in a Cloud,
Of all her Train but one poór Wench allow'd,
One whom in fecret Service the cou'd trufts
The Rival and Companion of her Luft.
To the known Brochel-House Me takes her way;
And for a nafty Room gives double Pay;
That Room in which the rankest Harlor lay:
Prepar'd for Fight, expectingly the lies,
With heaving Breafts and with defiring Eyes :
Still as one drops, another takes his place,
And baffled ftill succeeds to like disgrace.
At length when friendly Darkness is expir'd,
And ev'ry Strumpet from her Celt retir’d,
She lags behind, and lingring at the Gate,
With a repining Sigh fubmits to Fate:
All Filth without, and all a Fire within,
Tir'd with the Toil, unrated with the Sin.
O'd Cesar's Bed the modeft Matron seeks;
The steam of Lamps still hanging on her Cheeks

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8 He tells the famous Story of Mefalink, Wife coʻrke Emo peror Clandins,

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In ropy Smut: thus fou), and thus bedight,
She brings him back the Product of the Night.

Now should I ling what Poisons they provides
With all their Trumpery of Charms beside ;
And all their Arts of Death: it would be known
Luft is the smallest Sin the Sex can own.
Cefinia ftill, they say, is guiltlefs found
Of ev'ry Vice, by her own Lord Renown'd;
And well she may, she brought ten thousand Pound.
She brought him wherewithal to be call'd chaste;
His Tongue is tyd in golden Fetters faft:
He fighs, adores, and courts her ev'ry Hour;
Who wou'd not do as much for such a Dower?
She writes Love Letters to the Youth in Grace;
Nay, tips the wink before the Cuckold's Face;
And might do more: Her

. Portion makes it good; Wealth 9 has the Privilege of Widowhood,

These Truths with his Example you disprove,
Who with his wife is mondrously in Love:
But know him better; for I heard him swear,
'Tis not that she's his Wife, but that she's fair.
Let her but have three Wrinkles in her Face,
Let her Eyes lelles, and her Skin unbrace,
Soon you will bear the saucy Steward say,
Pack up with all your Trinkets, and away ;
You grow offensive both ar Bed and Board:
Your Betters must be had, to please my Lord.

Mean time she's absolute upon the Throne :
And knowing time is precious, loses none:
She must have Flocks of Sheep, with Wool more finc
Than Silk, and Vineyards of the poblet Wine;

9 Wealth bites the privilegov rý may do what the pleases, &c. His meaning is, that a and hasall clié Privileges of a Wife who brings a large DowWidow."

wbolo

Whole Droves of Pages for her Train she craves :
And sweeps the Prisons for attending Slaves.
In short, whatever in her Eyes can come,
Or others have abroad, she wants at home.
When Winter Thurs the Seas, and fleecy Snows
Make Houses white, The to the Merchant goes;
Rich Chrystals of the Rock she takes up there,
Huge Agat Vases, and old China Ware:
Then 10 Berenice's Ring her Finger proves,
More precious made by her incestuous Loves:
And infamously dear: A Brother's Bribe,
Ev'n God's Anointed, and of Judah's Tribe :
Where barefoot they approach the sacred Shrine,
And think it only Sin to feed on Swine.

But is none worthy to be made a Wife
In all this Town? Suppose her free from Strife,
Rich, Fair, and Fruitful, of unblem fh'd Life ;
Chalte as the Sabines, whose prevailing Charms
Dismiss’d their Husbands, and their Brothers Arms;
Grant her, besides, of Noble Blood that ran
In ancient Veins, ere Heraldry began :
Suppose all these, and take a Poet's Word,
A black Swan is not half so rare a Bird.
A Wife, so bung with Virtues, such a Freight,
What mortal Shoulders cou'd support the Weight!
Some Country-Girl, scarce to a Curt'sey bred,
Wou'd I much rather than " Cornelia wed:
If Supercilious, Haughty, Proud, and Vain,
She brought her Father's Triumphs, in haer Train.

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10 A Ring of great Price,! Gracchi, of the Family of the which Herod Agrippa gave to i Cornelii ; from whence Scipio his sifter Berenice. He was the African : was descended, the King of the Jews, but who triumph'd over HanniTributary to the Romans.

bal II Cornelia, Mother to the

Away

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