University of Virginia Library

The Philospher and the Cuckold.

A Dialogue.

Cuckold.
Damn the old Rules of Aristotle,
And all his Philosophick Prattle,
Confound all Stones, and e'ery Whore,
That has a pair yet lusts for more:
Would I had been an Eunoch born,
Or young, they'd from my Loins been torn,
Least I'd been hung all o're with Charms,
As fam'd Briarius was with Arms,
Sufficient to have tam'd the Lust
Of Woman, and have kept her just.

Friend.
Hey day, I'd have you shave and bleed,
For now I find you're mad indeed,
Prithee what means this raving Fit,
Are you turn'd Fool or Bedlamite,
Has all your Costly Oxford Breeding,
Your painful Study and your reading,
Your long Scholastick Exercising.
Disputing and Philosophising,
Brought you at last to this Condition,
That needs a Mad-house and Physician,
Prithee be free and let me know,
What a Pox 'tis disturbs thee so,
Perhaps some old Venereal Tumor
I'th' Groin has put thee out of Humour.

Cuckold.
The Pox is but a gentle Curse,
Z---s, I'm a Cuckold, Sir, that's worse,
A Ram, a Stag, a Buck, a Bull,
A humane Beast, a Woman's Fool,
The most abus'd of marry'd Cullies,
A laughing stock for Beaus and Bullies,
A Monster with a forked Noddle,
A Ninconpoop, a Tom-a-doodle,
The Women's common Table-talk,
Pointed and hiss'd at as I walk,
Blood, who can bear it now its known,
Yet who can help it when its done,

Friend.
Is this alone the mighty Matter,
That so disturbs your Manly Nature,
And cannot all your Reason Master
Such a poor trifling Disaster,
Art thou the Man that us'd to treat us,
With Lessons out of Epictetus,
And well instruct us how to bear
The sharpest Edge of humane Care,
And now to shrink beneath the common
Miscarriages of fickle Woman;
Why art not angry with some Novice,
For dunging in thy House of Office,
And run distracted, cause its free
To ease thy Friends as well as thee;
I know you prize your silver Bowl,
Why does not that torment thy Soul,
Because it does so often join.
With others Lips as well as thine;
For shame, let no such slip molest
The Native Freedom of your Breast,
Or Failings of a Woman's Tail,
O'er thy Philosophy prevail;
They are loose airy, wanton Things,
Fall over Prickles, Thornes and Stings,
Which Beaus and Fools mistake for Charms,
But once decoy'd into their Arms,
They find the pointed Plagues within,
Soon wound 'em thro the sattin Skin;
So he that snatches from the side
Of merry Maid or wanton Bride,
A Pincusheon, when he's inclin'd
To Waggery, perhaps may find
The point of some old crooked Pin,
Or rusty Needle hid within;
Thus you may see the Things they wear,
Will oft discover what they are;
Therefore it is beneath a Man
Of Wit to murmer and complain,
Because his Phillis does pursue
The same that other Women do;
Your Case is common, never vex,
The Creature is but like her Sex;
Believe me, you've no other course,
But as she's bad to think her worse,
Then let her Actions be so base,
As to shame all the Female Race,
It will be no surprize to know
She's bad, because you thought her so.

Cuckold.
I own your Doctrines very good,
But yet methinks no Flesh and Blood
Can wisely frame a happy Life,
Beneath the Insults of a Wife,
Besides the Noise of common Fame,
That spreads and publishes the Shame,
And so improves the odious Curse,
That every Mouth still makes it worse,
Therefore what Mortal Man can bear
Disgrace that haunts him e'ery where.

Friend.
He that wants Courage to defy
The Venom of the Common Cry,
Wants Wisdom to consult his Ease,
And to preseree his Mind in Peace:
For he that has it in his pow'r
To live contented and secure,
And wanting foresight, cannot see
The lucky Opportunity,
But lets his Happiness depend,
On's his Wife, the Publick, or a Friend,
Is always sure to be a Slave
To th'Errors both of Fool and Knave,
And to be plagu'd, if not undone,
By Others Faults besides his own.
Who then would interrupt his rest,
And like an Ideot, live unblest
By Women's Sins, or Friends deceit,
Since all the World, is but a Cheat:
Or let the Rabbles vile Reproach,
Your noble Mind affect or touch,
Since all the Scandal they can throw,
'S not yours, except you make it so.
Cuckold what is't, a silly Name,
Invented by some merry Dame;
A common Word, from Wife to Wife,
Intail'd upon a Marry'd Life,
And therefore can be no disgrace,
Because 'tis every Husbands Case.
Priests, Aldermen, May'rs, Knights and Nobles,
All Men are Women's Fools and Bubbles;
Except the Wise, who soar above
The humble thoughts of servile Love,
And never vex their peaceful Mind,
Whether their Wives are cross or kind;
But scorn that Woman's Tongue or Tail,
Should o'er their happiness prevail.