Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,
And let grey fools be indolently good,
Who, paft all pleasure, damn the joys of fenfe,
With reverend dulnefs, and grave impotence.
Juftin, who filent fat, and heard the man,
Thus, with a philofophic frown, began.
A heathen author of the firft degree,
(Who, though not Faith, had Senfe as well as we)
Bids us be certain our concerns to truft
To thofe of generous principles, and juft.
The venture's greater, I'll prefume to fay,
To give your perfon, than your goods away:
And therefore, Sir, as you regard your reft,
First learn your lady's qualities at least :
Whether he's chafte or rampant, proud or civil,
Meck as a faint, or haughty as the devil;
Whether an eafy, fond, familiar fool,
Or fuch a wit as no man e'er can rule.
"Tis true, perfection none must hope to find In all this world, much lefs in womankind; But, if her virtues prove the larger fhare,
Blefs the kind fates, and think your fortune rare.
Ah, gentle Sir, take warning of a friend,
Who knows too well the ftate you thus commend; 195
And, fpite of all his praifes, muft declare,
All he can find is bondage, coft, and care.
Heaven knows, I fhed full many a private tear,
And figh in filence, left the world should hear!
While all my friends applaud my blifsful life,
And fwear no mortal's happier in a wife;
Demure and chaste as any vestal Nun,
The meekeft creature that beholds the fun!
But, by th' immortal powers, I feel the pain,
And he that smarts has reason to complain.
Do what you lift, for me; you must be fage,
And cautious fure; for wisdom is in age:
But at thefe years, to venture on the fair;
By him who made the ocean, earth, and air,
To please a wife, when her occafions call,
Would bufy the most vigorous of us all.
And truft me, Sir, the chafteft you can chuse
Will ask observance, and exact her dues.
If what I fpeak my noble Lord offend,
My tedious fermon here is at an end.
'Tis well, 'tis wondrous well, the Knight replies,
Moft worthy kinfman, faith you're mighty wife!
We, Sirs, are fools; and must resign the cause
To heathenish authors, proverbs, and old faws.
He spoke with fcorn, and turn'd another way :-
What does my friend, my dear Placebo, fay?
I fay, quoth he, by heaven the man's to blame,
To flander wives, and wedlock's holy name.
At this the council rofe, without delay;
Each, in his own opinion, went his way;
With full confent, that, all difputes appeas'd,
The knight should marry, when and where he pleas'd.
Who now but January exults with joy?
The charms of wedlock all his foul employ;
Each nymph by turns his wavering mind poffeft,
And reign'd the short-liv'd tyrant of his breast;
While fancy pictur'd every lively part,
And each bright image wander'd o'er his heart.
Thus, in fome public Forum fix'd on high,
A Mirrour fhows the figures moving by;
Still one by one, in fwift fucceffion, pass
The gliding fhadows o'er the polish'd glass.
This Lady's charms the nicest could not blame,
But vile fufpicions had afpers'd her fame;
That was with fenfe, but not with virtue, bleft;
And one had grace, that wanted all the reft.
Thus doubting long what nymph he fhould obey,
He fixt at last upon the youthful May.
Her faults he knew not, Love is always blind,
But every charm revolv'd within his mind:
Her tender age, her form divinely fair,
Her eafy motion, her attractive air,
Her fweet behaviour, her enchanting face,
Her moving foftnefs, and majeftic grace.
Much in his prudence did our knight rejoice,
And thought no mortal could difpute his choice:
Once more in hafte he fummon'd every friend,
And told them all, their pains were at an end.
Heaven, that (faid he) inspir'd me first to wed,
Provides a confort worthy of my bed:
Let none oppofe th' election, fince on this
Depends my quiet, and my future blifs.
A dame there is, the darling of my eyes,
Young, beauteous, artlefs, innocent, and wife;
Chafte, though not rich; and, though not nobly born,
Of honeft parents, and may ferve my turn.
Her will I wed, if gracious Heaven so please;
To pafs my age in fanctity and eafe:
And thank the powers, may poffefs alone
The lovely prize, and share my bliss with none !
If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,
My joys are full, my happinefs is fure.
One only doubt remains: Full oft I've heard,
By cafuifts grave, and deep divines averr'd;
That 'tis too much for human race to know
The blifs of heaven above, and earth below.
Now should the nuptial pleafures prove fo great,
To match the bleffings of the future state,
Thofe endless joys were ill-exchang'd for thefe;
Then clear this doubt, and fet my mind at ease.
This Justin heard, nor could his spleen control,
Touch'd to the quick, and tickled at the foul.
Sir Knight, he cry'd, if this be all you dread,
Heaven put it paft your doubt, whene'er you wed;
And to my fervent prayers fo far confent,
That, ere the rites are o'er, you may repent!
Good Heaven, no doubt, the nuptial state approves,
Since it chaftifes ftill what best it loves.
Then be not, Sir, abandon'd to despair;
Seek, and perhaps you'll find among the fair,
One that may do your business to a hair;
Not ev'n in wish, your happinefs delay,
But prove the fcourge to lafh you on your way:
Then to the fkies your mounting foul shall go,
Swift as an arrow foaring from the bow!
Provided still, you moderate your joy,
Nor in your pleasures all your might employ,
Let reafon's rule your ftrong defires abate,
Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate.
Old wives there are, of judgment most acute,
Who folve these questions beyond all dispute;
Confult with thofe, and be of better chear;
Marry, do penance, and difmifs your fear.
So faid, they rofe, nor more the work delay'd;
The match was offer'd, the propofals made.
The parents, you may think, would foon comply;
The Old have intereft ever in their eye.
Nor was it hard to move the Lady's mind;
When fortune favours, ftill the Fair are kind.
I pafs each previous fettlement and deed,
Too long for me to write, or you to read;
Nor will with quaint impertinence difplay
The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array.
The time approach'd, to Church the parties went,
At once with carnal and devout intent:
Forth came the Priest, and bade th' obedient wife
Like Sarah or Rebeccah lead her life:
Then pray'd the powers the fruitful bed to blefs,
And made all fure enough with holiness.
And now the palace-gates are open'd wide,
The guests appear in order, fide by side,
And plac'd in state the bridegroom and the bride.
The breathing flute's foft notes are heard around,
And the fhrill trumpets mix their silver found;
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