University of Virginia Library

Bob, to the middle age of life, Had made his way without a wife;
Nor ever fail'd, with hackneyed gibe,
To rail against the married tribe,
And in warm language to prefer The happier state of Bachelor.
Thus when he found the nuptial state Had been the subject of debate,
With blunt remark and oft-told story,
Bob Single soon was in his glory;
And with important look, begun To let his captious accents run.
Bob Single.—
“I thank my stars that I am free:
I was not made for slavery!
Pardon me, Doctor, but the Church, Has never got me in its lurch:
I should prefer the hempen string To licence and a wedding ring.
Quiet I love, and that word WIFE Is but another name for strife;
—Our friend, Ned Easy, I allow, Is better for the marriage vow;
For fortune somehow, as a whim, Has work'd a miracle for him.
I'm forc'd to own that prizes three, And rich ones too, I do agree,
He's gain'd in Hymen's lottery.
But this, I think, or friend or foe, He is the bravest man I know;
For when I heard what he was doing,
I thought him running to his ruin;
I cried have mercy on him Heaven, And may his folly be forgiven!
For travel all the kingdom over, From the Isle of Sky to Dover,
The curious journey would be vain, In hope to see the like again.
—I know you'll argue that a nation Exists alone by population:
That I'll acknowledge to be true, Though I could add a word or two
To what is said by state physicians, And niddle-noddle politicians,
I reason but from what I see, That more or less, the stern decree
Of nuptial bonds is misery.
Exceptions, I was taught at school, Are found to rise from ev'ry rule;
But such exceptions, I could prove,
Are rare in Grammar rules of Love.
I'm sure that I could name a score,
Aye more than that, yes, twenty more,
Who in their wives have so miscarried,
They scarce have smil'd since they were married.
—There's Billy Humble will not own
That he detests his bouncing Joan:
How oft that Jerry Sneak appears,
With smiling face and well pull'd ears,
When with soft words and fondling kiss, He talks of matrimonial bliss;
While all, who know the coward, know
He scarce dare look, or speak or go,
But as in form, or mode, or measure,
She pleases to make known her pleasure.
I saw the booby t'other day As he was pacing on his way
To fetch a doctor for his wife, Whose illness might affect her life,
Nay he insisted he should cry For a full week, if she should die;
And on this errand full of love, He went as slow as foot could move.
His long, lank face, by home-bred wars,
Look'd red with scratches and with scars,
Which he with stamm'ring tongue complain'd
From his bad razors were sustain'd:
I laugh'd to hear his barefac'd tales:—
The razors were his spouse's nails.”
The Doctor now impatient grown,
Of all he heard 'bout Jack and Joan;
With grave looks and sarcastic twang,
Thus put a stop to Bob's harangue.

Syntax.—
“I've heard these stories o'er and o'er,
You know it Bob, and many more;
I wish you'd tell us something new, And what is better, something true:
Not this poor cant, so stale, so dull,
That may come forth from any scull.
Excuse me, but it makes me sick, Because I think it is a trick,
That men the marriage state deride Some folly of their own to hide,
When in a wife they have miscarried,
And some low vulgar baggage married;
Some black-ey'd Moll, or rosy Nan,
Some priestess of the dripping-pan,
To whom malicious Cupid gave, Such wond'rous powers to enslave,
That e'en a 'Squire of good estate Could not resist his am'rous fate,
But still afraid that fate to own, And bent to keep the rites unknown,
He bears disguis'd the sturdy bride, To secret vales or some moor-side,
Where he may to his deary go, And none the am'rous parley know.
Then to delude suspicion's eye From looking after mystery,
His blust'ring censure does not fail Against the marriage-state to rail;
Laughs at all husbands, wives abuses, And no occasion e'er refuses
To treat with scorn the wedded vow,
As you, Bob, have been doing now;
Talks all the scandal that he can, Then steals away to Moll or Nan,
In some sly corner to improve The unknown joys of wedded love.
—Such is the zeal I've known to stir An unsuspected bachelor,
'Till some unlook'd for strange event, Or from neglect or accident,
Or the keen, watchful, prying eye Of envious curiosity;
Or the good dame's impatient pride
To draw the cruel veil aside, Which did her real station hide,
Display'd at length the hidden plan
And brought him forth a married man.
A nine days' wonder, it is true, He then appear'd to public view,
Join'd in the laugh, left off his prate Against the matrimonial state,
And now of Benedicts is found The happiest all the country round.
—Thus have I known a cunning hen Leave her domestic, noisy pen,
And seek the covert of a bush Where all was quiet, all was hush,
There lay her eggs, unheard, unseen,
Beneath th'o'er-shadowing foliage green,
'Till in due time the bird appears Cackling aloud her hopes and fears,
Around her chirping, flutt'ring, picking,
A brood of unsuspected chicken;
Thus to the cot, as 'twere by stealth,
Bringing a troop of feather'd wealth.
And who can tell, but, some years hence,
When time has broken down the fence
Of your reluctant awkward shame,
Forth from her covert the fair dame,
Who dares not yet avow her name,
If such an one by chance should be— Excuse my curiosity—
May your long wedded mate appear With little Singles in her rear!
Then bells will ring and music play,
And all your villagers be gay, To celebrate your wedding day.
Full ten years since the deed was done,
When Parson Slyboots made you one.
How I should joy the day to see
When, cur'd of your vain heresy, You should be Hymen's devotee.
I know I've read, but when or where, Needs not at present be my care,
And I am ready to allow Tricks may attend the nuptial vow,
That marriage, as by some profess'd, Is but a money job at best,
That cold compliance may be sold,
That wav'ring hearts may be controul'd—
But love's beyond the price of gold.
And now, my jovial, jeering friend,
Do to these wholesome truths attend!
How great the good were they imprest
On early manhood's glowing breast;
And, spite of you, gay noisy tramplers,
Misses should work them on their samplers.
—Those who true love have ever tried,
(The common cares of life supplied)
No wants endure, no wishes make, But ev'ry real joy partake:
All comfort on themselves depends,
They want not power, nor wealth, nor friends:
Love then hath ev'ry bliss in store,
'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more:
Each other ev'ry wish they give;— Not to know love—is not to live!”