But fince by counsel all things should be done,
And many heads are wifer still than one;
Chufe you for me, who beft shall be content
When my defire's approv'd by your confent.

One caution yet is needful to be told,
To guide your choice; this wife must not be old:
There goes a faying, and 'twas fhrewdly faid,
Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.
My foul abhors the taftelefs, dry embrace
Of a ftale virgin with a winter face:

In that cold feafon Love but treats his guest
With bean-ftraw, and tough forage at the best.
No crafty widow fhall approach my bed;
Thofe are too wife for batchelors to wed:
As fubtle clerks by many schools are made,
Twice-marry'd dames are mistreffes o'th' trade:
But young and tender virgins, rul'd with ease,
We form like wax, and mould them as we please.
IBID. p. 211.

THE NUPTIAL FEAST.

AND now the palace-gates are open'd wide, The guests appear in order, fide by fide, And plac'd in ftate the bridegroom and the bride. The breathing flute's foft notes are heard around, And the shrill trumpets mix their filver found; The vaulted roofs with echoing mufic ring, These touch the vocal flops, and those the trembling ftring.

Not

Not thus Amphion tun'd the warbling lyre,
Nor Joab the founding clarion could infpire,
Nor fierce Theodamas, whofe fprightly ftrain
Could fwell the foul to rage, and fire the martial
train.

Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to grace,
(So Poets fing) was prefent on the place:
And lovely Venus, goddess of delight,
Shook high her flaming torch in open fight,
And danc'd around, and fmil'd on ev'ry Knight.
Pleas'd her best servent would his courage try,
No lefs in wedlock, than in liberty.

Full many an age old Hymen had not spy'd
So kind a bridegroom, or fo bright a bride.
Ye bards! renown'd among the tuneful throng
For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial fong;
Think not your foftest numbers can display
The matchlefs glories of this blissful day:
The joys are fuch, as far transcend your rage,
When tender youth has wedded stooping age.

The beauteous Dame fat fmiling at the board,
And darted am'rous glances at her Lord.
Not Hefter's felf, whose charms the Hebrews fing,
E'er look'd fo lovely on her Perfian King:
Bright as the rifing fun, in fummer's day,
And fresh and blooming as the month of May!
The joyful Knight furvey'd her by his fide,
Nor envy'd Paris with his Spartan bride:

Still, as his mind revolv'd with vast delight Th'entrancing raptures of th'approaching night, Reftlefs he fat, invoking ev'ry pow'r

To speed his blifs, and hafte the happy hour. Meantime the vig'rous dancers beat the ground, And fongs were fung, and flowing bowls went round.

With od'rous fpices they perfum'd the place, And mirth and pleasure fhone in ev'ry face. FBID p. 218.

THE PEAR TREE.

THUS finging as he went, at last he drew, By easy steps, to where the Pear-tree grew : The longing Dame look'd up, and fpy'd her Love Full fairly perch'd among the boughs above. She stopp'd, and fighing: O good Gods! fhe cry'd, What pangs, what fudden fhoots diftend my fide! O for that tempting fruit, fo fresh, so green; Help, for the love of Heav'n's immortal Queen! Help, dearest Lord, and fave at once the life Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!

Sore figh'd the Knight to hear his Lady's cry, But could not climb, and had no fervant nigh: Old as he was, and void of eye-fight too, What could, alas! a helplefs hufband do? And muft I languifh then, fhe faid, and die, Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye? At least, kind Sir, for charity's fweet fake, Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take;

Then

Then from your back I might afcend the tree;
Do you but stoop, and leave the reft to me.

With all my foul, he thus reply'd again,
I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.
With that, his back against the trunk he bent;
She feiz'd a twig, and up the tree she went.

Now prove your patience, gentle Ladies all!
Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:
'Tis truth I tell, though not in phrafe refin'd;
Though blunt my tale, yet honeft is my mind.
What feats the Lady in the tree might do,
I pafs, as gambols never known to you ;
But fure it was a merrier fit, she swore,
Than in her life fhe ever felt before.

In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring Knight Look'd out, and flood reftor'd to fudden fight. Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent, As one whofe thoughts were on his spouse intent; But when he saw his bofom-wife fo drefs'd, His rage was such as cannot be express'd: Not frantic mothers, when their infants die, With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: He cry'd, he roar'd, he ftorm'd, he tore his hair; Death! hell! and furies! what doft thou do there?

What ails my Lord? the trembling Dame reply'd; I thought your patience had been better try'd: Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind, This my reward for having cur'd the blind?

Why

Why was I taught to make my husband fee,
By struggling with a Man upon a Tree?
Did I for this the pow'r of magic prove,
Unhappy wife, whofe crime was too much love!

If this be ftruggling, by this holy light, 'Tis ftruggling with a vengeance (quoth the Knight) So Heav'n preferve the fight it has restor❜d, As with thefe eyes I plainly faw thee whor'd; Whor'd by my flave-perfidious wretch! may hell As furely feize thee, as I faw too well.

Guard me, good Angels! cry'd the gentle May, Pray Heav'n, this magic work the proper way! Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you fee, You ne'er had us'd these killing words to me: So help me, Fates, as 'tis no perfect fight, But fome faint glimm'ring of a doubtful light. IBID. P. 230.

THE NECESSITY OF MARRIAGE. PAUL, knowing one could never ferve our turn, Declar'd 'twas better far to wed than burn. There's danger in assembling fire and tow; ́ I grant 'em that, and what it means you know. The fame Apostle too has elsewhere own'd, No precept for Virginity he found: 'Tis but a counfel-and we women still

Take which we like, the counsel, or our will.

I envy