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Why all the charges of the nuptial feast,
Wine and deserts, and sweet-meats to digeft?
Th’endowing gold that buys the dear delight,
Giv'n for their first and only happy night?
If thou art thus uxoriously inclin'd,
To bear thy bondage with a willing mind,
Prepare thy neck, and put it in the yoke :
But for no mercy from thy woman look.
For tho' perhaps, she loves with equal fires,
To absolute dominion the aspires;
Joys in the spoils, and triumphs o'er thy purse;
The better husband makes the wife the worse.,
Nothing is thine to give, or sell, or buy,
All offices of ancient friendship die ;
Nor haft thou leave to make a legacy.
By 6 thy imperious wife thou art bereft;
A privilege, to pimps and panders left;
Thy teftament's her will; where the prefers
Her ruffians, drudges, and adulterers,
Adopting all thy rivals for thy heirs.
Go , drag that slave to death : 8 Your reason, why
Should the poor innocent be doom'd to die?
What proofs ? For, when man's life is in debate,
The judge can ne'er too long deliberate.
Call’it 9 thou that Nave a man, the wife replies :
Prov'd, or unprov'd, the crime, the villain dies.
I have the sovereign pow'r to save or kill;
And give no other reason but my will.
Thus the lhe-tyrant reigns, till pleas'd with change,
Her wild affections to new empires range:
Another subject-husband the defires;
Divorc'd from him, she to the first retires,
While the last wedding-feaft is scarcely o’er,
And garlands hang yet green upon the door.
So ftill the reck’ning rises; and appears
In total sum, eight husbands in five years.
The title for a tomb-stone might be fit;
But that it would too commonly be writ.
Her mother living, hope no quiet day:
She sharpens her, instructs her how to fiea
Her husband bare, and then divides the prey.
She takes love-letters, with a crafty smile,
And, in her daughter's answer, mends the style.
In vain the husband sets his watchful spies ;
She cheats their cunning, or fhe bribes their eyes.
The doctor's call'd; the daughter, taught the trick,
Pretends to faint; and in full health is fick.
The panting stallion, at the closet-door,
Hears the consult, and wishes it were o'er.
Can'st thou, in reason, hope, a bawd fo known,
Should teach her other manners than her own?
Her int’rest is in all th' advice the gives :
Tis on the daughter's rents the mother lives.
No cause is try'd at the litigious bar,
But women plaintiffs or defendants are,
They form the process, all the briefs they write;
The topics furnish, and the pleas indite;
And teach the toothlefs dawyer how to bite.
They turn viragos too; the wrestler's toil
They try, and smear their naked limbs with oil:
Against the post their wicker shields they crack,
Flourish the sword, and at the flastron puh.
Of ev'ry exercise the mannith crew
Fulfils the parts, and oft excels us too;
Prepar'd not only in feign'd fights t'engage,
But rout the gladiators on the stage.
What sense of shame in such a breast can lie,
Inur'd to arms, and her own sex to fly
Yet to be wholly man she would disclaim;
To quit her tenfold pleasure at the game,
For frothy praises and an empty name.
Oh what a decent light 'tis to behold
All thy wife's magazine by auction fold !
The belt, the crested plume, the several fuits
Of armour, and the Spanish leather boots !
Yet these are they, that cannot bear the heat
Of figur'd filks, and under farcenet sweat,
Behold the frutting Amazonian whore,
She ftands in guard with her right foot before :
Her coats tuck'd up; and all her motions juft,
She stamps, and then cries hah! at ev'ry thruft:
But laugh to see her tir'd with many a bout,
Call for the pot, and like a man piss out.
The ghosts of ancient Romans, should they rife,
Would grin to fee their daughters play a prize.
Besides, what endless brawls by wives are bred :
The curtain-lecture makes a mournful bed.
Then, when she has thee fure within the sheets,
Her cry begins, and the whole day repeats.
Conscious of crimes herfelf, fhe teizes first;
Thy servants are accus'd; thy whore is curft ;
She acts the jealous, and at will the cries :
For women's tears are but the fweat of eyes.
Poor cuckold-fool, thou think't that love fincere,
And fuck'lt between her lips the falling tear :
But search her cabinet, and thou shalt find
Each tiller there with love-epiftles lin'd.
Suppose her taken in a close embrace,
would think fo manifest a case,
No rhetoric could defend; no impudence out-face;
And yet even then she cries the marriage-vow
A mental reservation must allow;
And there's a filent bargain ftill imply'd,
The parties should be pleas'd on either fide :
And both may for their private needs provide.
Tho' men yourselves, and women us you call,
Yet homo is a common name for all.
There's nothing bolder than a woman caught;
Guilt gives them courage to maintain their fault.
You ak from whence proceed these monstrous crimes?
Once poor, and therefore chafte, in former times,
Our matrons were : no luxury found room
In low-rooft houses, and bare walls of lome;
Their hands with labour harden'd while 'twas light,
And frugal sleep supply'd the quiet night,
While pinch’d with want, their hunger held 'em ftraight;
When 1 Hannibal was, hov'ring at the gate :
But wanton now and lolling at our ease,
We suffer all th' invet'rate ills of peace,
And waiteful riot; whose destructive charms
Revenge the vanquish?d world, of our victorious arms.
No crime, no lutful postures are unknown ;
Since Poverty, our guardian God, is gone :
Pride, laziness, and all luxurious arts,
Pour like a deluge in, from foreign parts :
Since gold obscene, and silver found the way,
Strange fashions with strange bullion to convey,
And our plain fimple manners to betray.
What care our drunken dames to whom they spread? Wine no distinction makes of tail or head, Who lewdly dancing at a midnight ball, For hot eringoes and fat oysters call : Full brimmers to their fuddled noses thrust; Brimmers, the last provocatives of luft. When vapours to their swimming brains advance, And double tapers on the tables dance.
I A famous Carthaginian captain, who was upon the point of con. guering the Romans,
Now think what bawdy dialogues they have,
What Tullia talks to her confiding flave,
At Modesty's old ftatue ; when by night
They make a stand, and from their litters light;
The good man early to the levee goes,
And treads the nafty paddle of his spouse.
The secrets of the 2 Goddess nam'd the Good,
Are ev'n by boys and barbers understood :
Where the rank matrons, dancing to the pipe,
Gig with their bums, and are for action ripe ;
With mufic rais'd, they spread abroad their hair;
And toss their heads like an enamour'd mare :
Laufella lays her garland by, and proves
The mimic letchery of manly loves.
Rank'd with the lady the cheap finner lies ;
For here not. blood, but virtue, gives the prize.
Nothing is feignd in this venereal ftrife;
'Tis downright luft, and acted to the life.
So full, fo fierce, so vig'rous, and so strong,
That, looking on, would make old 3 Neftor young.
Impatient of delay, a gen'ral sound,
An universal groan of luft goes round;
For then, and only then, the sex fincere is found.
Now is the time of action ; Now begin,
They cry, and let the lufty loyers in.
The whoresons are asleep ; then bring the slaves,
And watermen, a race of strong-back'd knaves.
I wish, at least, our sacred writes were free
From those pollutions of obscenity :
But 'tis well known 4 what finger, how disguis'd,
A lewd audacious action enterpriz’d;