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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot]

... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes

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ODE.
[_]

An insupportable Apology for keeping Mistresses, and a Laugh at that most respectable state, Matrimony.

That I have often been in love, deep love,
A hundred doleful ditties plainly prove,
By marriage never have I been disjointed;

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For matrimony deals prodigious blows:
And yet for this same stormy state, God knows,
I've groan'd—and, thank my stars, been disappointed.
With love's dear passion will I never war;
Let ev'ry man for ever be in love,
Ev'n if he beats, in age, old Parr:
'Tis for his chilly veins a good warm glove;
It bids the blood with brisker motion start,
Thawing time's icicles around his heart.
Wedlock's a saucy, sad, familiar state,
Where folks are very apt to scold and hate:
Love keeps a modest distance, is divine,
Obliging, and says ev'ry thing that's fine.
Love writes sweet sonnets, deals in tender matter;
Marriage, in epigram so keen, and satire,
Love seeketh always to oblige the fair;
Full of kind wishes, and exalted hope:
Marriage desires to see her in the air,
Suspended, at the bottom of a rope.
Love wishes, in the vale or on the down,
To give his dear, dear idol a green gown:
Marriage, the brute, so snappish and ill bred,
Can kick his sighing turtle out of bed;
Turns bluffly from the charms that taste adores,
Then pulls his night-cap o'er his eyes, and snores.
Wedlock at first, indeed, is vastly pleasant;
A very showy bird, a fine cock-pheasant:
By time, it changeth to a diff'rent fowl;
Sometime a cuckow, oft'ner a horn-owl.
Wedlock's a lock, however large and thick,
Which every rascal has a key to pick.
O love! for heav'ns sake, never leave my heart:
No! thou and I will never, never part—
Go, wedlock, to the men of leaden brains,
Who hate variety, and sigh for chains.
[_]

A bare-faced Apology for leaving a loving Wife.