FABLE XLII. The Old Batchelor:
Or, Marriage out of Season.
A wretched
Dotard, who, 'till past Threescore,
Had liv'd, and shou'd have dy'd, a Batchelor;
For the Support of his Decrepit Life,
Took that deceitful, bending Crutch, a Wife:
But soon the Dolt his sad Mistake perceiv'd;
His Need was not so great as he believ'd:
For, howsoever useful she might seem,
The Lady had not a Meet-help in him.
Asham'd and griev'd at what his Age had done,
Since he too late had Marry'd, and too soon;
He said, I have but ill address'd my Life
To answer my Occasions for a Wife:
When fit to Marry, I declin'd the State;
But enter on it now, when out of Date.
The MORAL.
‘A proper Time to all Things is decree'd,
‘Which they attempt too late, who that exceed:
‘The Day is giv'n for Work, for Rest, the Night;
‘Care for the Old, and for the Young, Delight:
‘And they who will not this Decorum keep,
‘Force Nature's Rule, and wake when they shou'd sleep.
‘So he that Marry's in Declining Age,
‘His Entrance makes when he shou'd quit the Stage.
