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The Poetical Entertainer

Or, Tales, Satyrs, Dialogues, And Intrigues, &c. Serious and Comical. All digested into such Verse as most agreeable to the several Subjects. To be publish'd as often as occasion shall offer [by Edward Ward]

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A rich old Batchelor, whose care
Was chiefly to provide an Heir
Of his own getting, or, at least,
A Wife, by whom he might be bless'd
With a fair Offspring, to his honour,
Tho' by his Friends begot upon her,
Happen'd to find a Coltish Tooth
In's Head, that had surviv'd his Youth,
Which so bewitch'd him with a strong
Desire, to such a charming young

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And Buxom Lass, so full of Lust,
That if he cou'd not, others must;
Not that she'd lost her Reputation,
Whate'er might be her Inclination,
But was too fair and gay, by much,
For Age, Gout, Flannel, and a Crutch,
That any might foresee his Fortune
Would soon be seal'd behind the Curtain,
Or that he would be thought, at best,
A Cuckold, tho' his Wife was chast.
For he that's old and has the folly
To wed a Maid that's young and jolly,
Tho' none have dabbl'd with his 'Spouse,
Yet common Fame will horn his Brows,
For all Men think that fumbl'd Beauty
Hath reason to transgress her Duty.
However, Gravity and Phtysick,
In hopes young Flesh would prove good Physick,
Ventur'd upon the beauteous Maid,
And took her to his Marriage Bed;

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His Fortune being much the greater,
Hers chiefly in the Gifts of Nature,
For which good Reason she comply'd
To be the old Curmudgeon's Bride,
That when kind Death had snatch'd away,
From her warm Sides, his frozen Clay,
And he had left her Gay and Wealthy,
She might have one more Young and Healthy.
These hopes alone make Youth engage
In Marriage with decrepit Age,
As Boys serve 'prentiships to be
More happy Masters when they're free.
The wealthy Dotard having thus
Got a fair Bride to Hug and Buss,
Thought himself highly bless'd, above
All other Mortals, in her Love,
And fumbl'd on with all his Spirit,
To raise an Heir, that might inherit
His large Possessions, but his Madam
Found matters not as she'd have had 'em;

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So that things would not happen right,
As both sides highly wish'd they might,
Tho' still he doted so upon
The charming Prize his Age had won,
That all the Year was Honey-Moon.