 | Merope |  |
EPILOGUE. Spoken by Mr. PRITCHARD.
I'm
glad with all my Heart, I've scap'd my Wedding—
Glad! cry the Maids?—Heaven keep such Joy from spreading!
Marriage, (poor Things!) don't move their Heart so coldly.
'Tis a dark Leap, they own—but, Love jumps boldly.—
Fair fall th' Advent'rers! I'm no Husband-hater.—
Only, be warn'd by Me, and wed no Traitor.
Pain-hunting Murm'rer! born, to growl, and grumble!
No King can please him,—and no Wife can humble!
Sick to the Soul, be Heaven his kind Physician!
Earth's ablest Drugs are lost, upon Ambition.
All Warwick-lane falls short:—and, to my Knowledge,
No Cure is hop'd for, in our Female College.
Glad! cry the Maids?—Heaven keep such Joy from spreading!
Marriage, (poor Things!) don't move their Heart so coldly.
'Tis a dark Leap, they own—but, Love jumps boldly.—
Fair fall th' Advent'rers! I'm no Husband-hater.—
Only, be warn'd by Me, and wed no Traitor.
Pain-hunting Murm'rer! born, to growl, and grumble!
No King can please him,—and no Wife can humble!
Sick to the Soul, be Heaven his kind Physician!
Earth's ablest Drugs are lost, upon Ambition.
All Warwick-lane falls short:—and, to my Knowledge,
No Cure is hop'd for, in our Female College.
Shun plotting Heads, dear Ladies!—All miscarries.
When One, who hums and haws at Midnight, MARRIES.
Better, plain, downright Dunce—No Dream, pursuing:
One, that means bluntly—and knows, what he's doing!
Not Him, whose factious Mind, outsoaring Pleasure,
Is still most busy,—when his Wife's at Leisure.
When One, who hums and haws at Midnight, MARRIES.
Better, plain, downright Dunce—No Dream, pursuing:
One, that means bluntly—and knows, what he's doing!
Not Him, whose factious Mind, outsoaring Pleasure,
Is still most busy,—when his Wife's at Leisure.
Better, a Sportsman, sound of Wind, and hearty.—
Better, Sir Sot,—than Spouse dry drunk, with Party!
A hunting Husband hallows—and you HEAR him.—
A drunken Deary stag—gers—and you STEER him.—
Each—conscious of his Wife, takes Care, to make her,
One Way or other—an indulg'd Partaker.
Better, Sir Sot,—than Spouse dry drunk, with Party!
A hunting Husband hallows—and you HEAR him.—
A drunken Deary stag—gers—and you STEER him.—
Each—conscious of his Wife, takes Care, to make her,
One Way or other—an indulg'd Partaker.
But, your sage, saturnine, ambitious Lover,
Keeps no one Secret, Woman wou'd discover.
Stranger at home, he strolls abroad, for Blessing:
And holds whate'er he HAS not worth possessing.
Freedom, and Mirth, and Health, and Joy,—despises!
And scorns All Rest—he, so pro-found-ly WISE is!
Keeps no one Secret, Woman wou'd discover.
Stranger at home, he strolls abroad, for Blessing:
And holds whate'er he HAS not worth possessing.
Freedom, and Mirth, and Health, and Joy,—despises!
And scorns All Rest—he, so pro-found-ly WISE is!
At length, thank Heaven! he DIES: kind Vapours strike him:
And leaves behind,—ten thousand Madmen, like him.
And leaves behind,—ten thousand Madmen, like him.
| Merope | |