Nuptial Dialogues and Debates Or, An Useful Prospect of the felicities and discomforts of a marry'd life, Incident to all Degrees, from the Throne to the Cottage. Containing, Many great Examples of Love, Piety, Prudence, Justice, and all the excellent Vertues, that largely contribute to the true Happiness of Wedlock. Drawn from the Lives of our own Princes, Nobility, and other Quality, in Prosperity and Adversity. Also the fantastical Humours of all Fops, Coquets, Bullies, Jilts, fond Fools, and Wantons; old Fumblers, barren Ladies, Misers, parsimonious Wives, Ninnies, Sluts and Termagants; drunken Husbands, toaping Gossips, schismatical Precisians, and devout Hypocrites of all sorts. Digested into serious, merry, and satyrical Poems, wherein both Sexes, in all Stations, are reminded of their Duty, and taught how to be happy in a Matrimonial State. In Two Volumes. By the Author of the London Spy [i.e. Edward Ward] |
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| X. | DIALOGUE X. Between a non-jurant Clergy man, and his contentious Lady,
about taking the Oaths to the late Government.
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 | Nuptial Dialogues and Debates |  |
DIALOGUE X. Between a non-jurant Clergy man, and his contentious Lady, about taking the Oaths to the late Government.
Wife.Why will you prove so obstinate, my Dear,
And rather chuse to starve, than yield to swear?
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Expose to Want, your Children, and your Wife;
Hug your own Ruin thro' a holy Pride,
Which Int'rest calls you now to lay aside;
And common Safety, that prevailing Plea,
Justifies those who wisely do agree?
Consider, therefore, and in time comply,
You may, perhaps, on some Mistakes rely;
And then, how fatal 'twould hereafter be,
That Error should beget our Misery?
Secure the Living first you've long possest,
And then discuss the Point within your Breast;
Postpone your Conscience, till you've once comply'd,
Then if you 'gainst your self the Cause decide,
You'll find your Error on the safest Side.
Husband.
Thou talk'st, alas! like Job's unhappy Wife,
Who bid him curse the God that gave him Life;
Or like unhappy Eve, whose ill Advice
Lost Adam and herself their Paradice.
O! faithless Woman, ignorant and blind,
To prefer Plenty to a quiet Mind,
And vain Externals, that abound below,
To heav'nly Comforts that from Conscience flow.
Where does the Peace of human Life abound,
But in the pious Breast, that feels no Wound?
Who then, that knows his Duty, would controul
Th'unerring Dictates of his peaceful Soul,
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That blinds the Great, and tempts the brainless Crowd?
No, Female Satan, I abhor thy Pride;
My Rule of Faith's my Conscience, that my Guide:
Nor shall I waver from so just a Cause,
That's firmly built on Heav'n's eternal Laws.
Shall I that Doctrine I have taught, explode,
To prove my self a Hypocrite of Mode;
Preach one Thing, and, by vile Example, shew
I long have taught what I confess untrue?
No, graceless Help-mate, I alone shall trust
In that kind Providence that's always just;
And not, to save my Living, shame my Life,
To please the Pride of a contentious Wife.
Well may that Priest be deem'd a Knave or Fool,
Who o'er his Conscience lets a Woman rule!
Wife.
Thousands, as just and learn'd as you, we find,
On second Thoughts, have wisely chang'd their Mind,
And when they found the doubtful Season past,
Tho' they refus'd at first, comply'd at last.
You see your Diocesan led the Way;
And why should you from his Example stray?
He's your Superiour; and since he complies,
Who is so grave, so just, so learn'd and wise,
The World will but condemn your loyal Zeal,
And think you dang'rous to the Common-weal.
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And all, to guard the Nation's Saviour, arm.
The wiser Priests for little David pray,
Extol his Vertues, and his Pow'r obey;
Confirm his Title to the regal Throne,
And bless good Heav'n for placing him thereon.
The Judges and the Law his Right maintain,
Allow his Edicts, and assert his Reign.
The joyful Crowd, with one united Voice,
In loud Huzza's proclaim their happy Choice.
And are not these sufficient to convince
Your squeamish Conscience, he's your lawful Prince
And that you ought to swear as others do,
To th'Pow'r that now protects both them and you;
And not oppose, thro' a pedantick Pride,
What by the major Part is justify'd;
As if you thought 'twas Justice to complain
Against that regal Pow'r the Laws maintain,
And Wisdom to be singular and vain?
Husband.
Majority is but a slender Plea;
Common Consent is not enough for me.
The greater part, we may observe, in spite
Of Heav'ns good Laws, in Wickedness unite,
And thousands daily do from Vertue stray,
To one good Man, that keeps the milky Way.
Must therefore he, who from the Crowd dissents,
To please the World, forsake his Innocence;
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Despise its Dictates, and proceed without?
The major Part their baneful Lusts pursue,
Must he that's just, comply, and do so too?
The greater Number are by Int'rest sway'd,
And by the Hopes of worldly Wealth misled.
To cheat, revile, invent a thousand Lies,
To shame the Pious, and detract the Wise.
If by such Means they can their Ends obtain,
And make their Sins but centre in their Gain,
Must therefore he, who fears to tread awry,
Turn vile, and with the common Vogue comply?
The Great, we see, are by Ambition spurr'd;
The Knight turns Traytor, to become a Lord:
The Lawyer in an odious Cause will drudge,
To please the Court, in hopes to be a Judge.
The Priest, to serve the Times, will play his Part,
Change his old Doctrine, and the Text pervert;
Will cant, recant, and re-recant again,
For rev'rend Lawn, or to be made a Dean:
And would you also have me play the Ape,
Like Proteus, in some new, but knavish Shape:
Turn faithless Shepherd, basely to betray
My sacred Trust, and lead my Flock astray?
No, a brown Crust shall sooner be my Food,
And the cold Spring replete my Veins with Blood,
Than I'll recant what I have preach'd long since,
Or for a Living, sell my lawful Prince.
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But he you call so, has resign'd the Throne,
And now the Peoples David sits thereon.
Your Saul, thro' Fear has left you in the Lurch,
And fled for Safety to his Idol Church,
Where cunning Bald-pates compliment his Zeal,
And with Lip-salves his wounded Conscience heal;
Perswade your Monarch 'tis a glorious Thing
To live a Biggot, rather than a King;
They'll hug him close, they've made him now their ow
He's fitter for a Cloister, than a Throne,
It is in vain to hope for his Return,
His Reliques soon must bless some Roman Urn.
You may, with Safety, now he's gone, comply,
And none but Fools will think you've stept awry.
What Man, that loves himself, would be undone
For him, who to his Rival leaves his Throne;
Deserts his Subjects, when they need his Aid,
And from the publick Body steals the Head?
What Man of Sense would such a Prince adore,
And blame the Hero that has won the Pow'r?
Husband.
You quite mistake the Nature of the Case,
Your bold Reflexions are both false and base.
The People first their lawful Prince forsook,
Aided his Foes, and their Allegiance broke:
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For which the King was blam'd, and next betray'd.
They form'd each wicked Scheme, and manag'd all
That vex'd his Subjects, and procur'd his Fall:
They blow'd the Coals, and Ills that were their own,
They still reflected on the guiltless Throne:
They fill'd the Land with Jealousy and Fear,
Yet lull'd their Prince to think no Danger near:
They fed the People with a thousand Lies,
And did each Hour prepost'rous Shams devise;
Drove in malicious Wedges ev'ry Day,
Between the Throne, and those that should obey;
Fill'd the rebellious Mobs unthinking Brains
With Tales of Cravats torn, and Warming-pans;
And when the Land was ripe for their Design,
They call'd their Shadow of a Hero in,
Who promis'd fair, declar'd he came to heal
The Breaches 'twixt the King and Common-weal;
Told us the P--- should be a Perkin made,
But ne'er perform'd one Word of what he said:
And would you have me now disown my King,
For such a strange Dutch Thingum of a Thing?
No, I'll first wear my Gown, that is so black,
Till it grows grey upon my aged Back.
Wife.
Grant this be true: But when his Rival came,
Why did your injur'd Monarch prove so tame?
What made him fly, when he had Room to fight
And without Battel, abdicate his Right?
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That wants the Courage to defend his Crown.
Husband.
Did not his Army, who were justly paid,
Well cloath'd, and on his Bounty long had fed,
Desert him when he needed them the most,
And basely join with the Batavian Host?
Were not some faithless Troops, that staid behind,
To the like odious Treachery inclin'd?
Did not his nearest Relatives forsake
His Camp, and on his Presence turn their Back?
Would not such Usage make the bravest Prince
Despond, in such a dang'rous Exigence,
Whose Father had experienc'd long before
The cruel Rage of a rebellious Pow'r?
Well cloath'd, and on his Bounty long had fed,
Desert him when he needed them the most,
And basely join with the Batavian Host?
Were not some faithless Troops, that staid behind,
To the like odious Treachery inclin'd?
Did not his nearest Relatives forsake
His Camp, and on his Presence turn their Back?
Would not such Usage make the bravest Prince
Despond, in such a dang'rous Exigence,
Whose Father had experienc'd long before
The cruel Rage of a rebellious Pow'r?
Must he have leap'd into the Hands of those
Who were, from Traytors, turn'd to open Foes,
And could for no true Safety hope, 'tis plain,
But in the fatal Period of his Reign?
Or must he've call'd an Army from the Skies,
To've stood the Fury of his Enemies?
What other Measures had the Suff'rer left,
When of his Army, and his Friends bereft,
But to withdraw his Person, and defeat
Their pointed Malice by a safe Retreat?
Yet, when such Treach'ry made him quit the Plain,
To's Royal Palace he return'd again,
There tarry'd till insulted, disobey'd,
And basely threaten'd, if he longer stay'd;
Left destitute of Servants and of Friends,
Who vanish'd to pursue ignoble Ends,
Whilst their kind Royal Master look'd around
For those that would not in Distress be found;
Arm'd only with the Patience of a Job,
Expos'd to all the Fury of a Mob.
Was it not then high time to make his Way,
When his approaching Foes forbid his Stay,
And with their saucy Scoffs and Threats allarm'd,
A naked Prince deserted and disarm'd,
Who, if he'd stay'd, could no Relief propose,
But his own Dagger, or, at least, his Foes?
Who were, from Traytors, turn'd to open Foes,
And could for no true Safety hope, 'tis plain,
But in the fatal Period of his Reign?
Or must he've call'd an Army from the Skies,
To've stood the Fury of his Enemies?
What other Measures had the Suff'rer left,
When of his Army, and his Friends bereft,
But to withdraw his Person, and defeat
Their pointed Malice by a safe Retreat?
Yet, when such Treach'ry made him quit the Plain,
To's Royal Palace he return'd again,
There tarry'd till insulted, disobey'd,
And basely threaten'd, if he longer stay'd;
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Who vanish'd to pursue ignoble Ends,
Whilst their kind Royal Master look'd around
For those that would not in Distress be found;
Arm'd only with the Patience of a Job,
Expos'd to all the Fury of a Mob.
Was it not then high time to make his Way,
When his approaching Foes forbid his Stay,
And with their saucy Scoffs and Threats allarm'd,
A naked Prince deserted and disarm'd,
Who, if he'd stay'd, could no Relief propose,
But his own Dagger, or, at least, his Foes?
How then can you, like the mistaken Crowd,
Assert he did those Things he disavow'd,
And that he left his People and his Throne,
Because he wisely from their Fury run,
When threat'ning Force and Malice chas'd him hence,
To seek Protection from a foreign Prince?
So those that set the Tile, or fix the Gin,
May blame the Stag that will not fall therein,
Or the rash Sportsman curse the feeble Hare,
And call her Caution Cowardice and Fear,
'Cause, when allarm'd by the approaching Hounds,
She quits her Form, and flies to distant Grounds.
Assert he did those Things he disavow'd,
And that he left his People and his Throne,
Because he wisely from their Fury run,
When threat'ning Force and Malice chas'd him hence,
To seek Protection from a foreign Prince?
So those that set the Tile, or fix the Gin,
May blame the Stag that will not fall therein,
Or the rash Sportsman curse the feeble Hare,
And call her Caution Cowardice and Fear,
'Cause, when allarm'd by the approaching Hounds,
She quits her Form, and flies to distant Grounds.
Rebellion never wants a fair Pretence,
The Throne is always loaded with Offence;
And if the Rebels once effect their Aim,
By sacred Cheats they shuffle off the Shame,
And on their injur'd Prince heap all the Blame.
The Throne is always loaded with Offence;
And if the Rebels once effect their Aim,
By sacred Cheats they shuffle off the Shame,
And on their injur'd Prince heap all the Blame.
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How then can I, by holy Orders bound
To Vertue, Truth and Justice, stand my Ground;
And, without Scandal to my Function, turn
A Foe to whom I have Allegiance sworn;
And, to become a faithless Priest of Mode,
Deny my King, as Peter did his God?
Not I, I'll sooner be a starving Priest,
To him that feeds the Poor, a welcome Guest,
Than share the Dainties of a Traytor's Feast.
To Vertue, Truth and Justice, stand my Ground;
And, without Scandal to my Function, turn
A Foe to whom I have Allegiance sworn;
And, to become a faithless Priest of Mode,
Deny my King, as Peter did his God?
Not I, I'll sooner be a starving Priest,
To him that feeds the Poor, a welcome Guest,
Than share the Dainties of a Traytor's Feast.
Wife.
Let the Case be as 'twill, 'tis yet severe,
That Conscience should with Int'rest interfere.
If such a Tyrant must compel the Mind,
And to our Ruin, human Actions bind,
Whoever hugs the Darling in his Breast,
Is sure to live much injur'd and opprest.
If such a Pilot be allow'd to steer
In what affects our Happiness so near,
Conscience, f'r ought I know in a Case like this,
May bring us to a thousand Miseries;
And that can be no heav'nly Pilot, sure,
That steers us to be scandalous and poor,
That Conscience should with Int'rest interfere.
If such a Tyrant must compel the Mind,
And to our Ruin, human Actions bind,
Whoever hugs the Darling in his Breast,
Is sure to live much injur'd and opprest.
If such a Pilot be allow'd to steer
In what affects our Happiness so near,
Conscience, f'r ought I know in a Case like this,
May bring us to a thousand Miseries;
And that can be no heav'nly Pilot, sure,
That steers us to be scandalous and poor,
The Son had ne'er his Father's Throne possest,
Had Conscience govern'd his heroick Breast;
Nor could the happy Change have e'er been made,
Had his kind Friends that foolish Guide obey'd.
Had Conscience govern'd his heroick Breast;
Nor could the happy Change have e'er been made,
Had his kind Friends that foolish Guide obey'd.
The Great and Wise, we see, ne'er condescend.
To such vain Shadows, that oppose their End,
But cast behind their Backs such idle Toys,
T'improve their Riches, and pursue their Joys.
To such vain Shadows, that oppose their End,
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T'improve their Riches, and pursue their Joys.
The P---s, who are wiser far than you,
Disdain such Cob-webs, and at once break thro':
They scorn to quit the Grandeur they possess,
For Trifles, but hold fast their Happiness.
Why then should you pursue a diff'rent Way,
And seem to be more righteous far than they?
Disdain such Cob-webs, and at once break thro':
They scorn to quit the Grandeur they possess,
For Trifles, but hold fast their Happiness.
Why then should you pursue a diff'rent Way,
And seem to be more righteous far than they?
Conscience is nothing but a Chain design'd
To bind the slavish Part of human Kind;
A holy Cord the Church has spun, to tie
The Low, that they may truckle to the High:
Therefore the Priest deserves Contempt, that wears
The Fetters he for humble Fools prepares.
The worthless Spider is, alas! too wise
T'entangle 'mself i'th' Web he does devise
With so much Art, to catch the little Flies.
Besides, the Hurdles are not to confine
The Shepherd, but to hold his Flock therein.
To bind the slavish Part of human Kind;
A holy Cord the Church has spun, to tie
The Low, that they may truckle to the High:
Therefore the Priest deserves Contempt, that wears
The Fetters he for humble Fools prepares.
The worthless Spider is, alas! too wise
T'entangle 'mself i'th' Web he does devise
With so much Art, to catch the little Flies.
Besides, the Hurdles are not to confine
The Shepherd, but to hold his Flock therein.
The Foll'wer must not from his Leader stray;
But still the Guide has Leave to chuse his Way.
But still the Guide has Leave to chuse his Way.
Shame on your holy Weakness, to withstand
His right of Pow'r, confirm'd by all the Land;
Back'd by the Laws, obey'd by Men of Sense,
As their sure Refuge, and their best Defence;
Deny'd by none but Mad-men, who agree
To still be Vassals, when they may be free.
Prithee, my Dear, put off this Fool's Disguise,
And shew yourself less loyal, and more wise:
Let not the Tyrant you yourself have made,
Against your worldly Int'rest be obey'd,
Lest those of greater Sense should scoffing say,
You've rais'd a Devil which you cannot lay.
His right of Pow'r, confirm'd by all the Land;
Back'd by the Laws, obey'd by Men of Sense,
As their sure Refuge, and their best Defence;
Deny'd by none but Mad-men, who agree
To still be Vassals, when they may be free.
Prithee, my Dear, put off this Fool's Disguise,
And shew yourself less loyal, and more wise:
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Against your worldly Int'rest be obey'd,
Lest those of greater Sense should scoffing say,
You've rais'd a Devil which you cannot lay.
Husband.
Bad is your Cause, and weakly you defend,
Begin in Folly, in Prophaneness end.
Have I so long, to little purpose, taught,
No Grace infus'd, no Truth, no Conscience wrought?
Conscience, the Sum of all we know, that's good,
All we believe, if bred as Christians shou'd:
The good Man's Pilot in a Storm or Calm,
That in all Weathers safely steers the Helm:
The inward Judge of Right or Wrong, that scorns
A golden Bribe to serve ignoble Turns:
The best Physician in the worst Disease,
That gives us good Advice, but takes no Fees:
In all Afflictions generous and kind,
Guard of our Peace, and Regent of the Mind:
And would you have me slight so good a Guide,
So true a Friend, to humour female Pride,
Despise its Dictates, when I know they're just,
And struggle with the Pow'r, I ought to trust;
Rebel against that Grace, which God has giv'n,
And fight at once with Conscience, and with Heav'n.
No, 'tis not all the Taunts a Wife can use,
Shall force Consent to what I now refuse:
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Make me turn Hypocrite, or Sycophant;
Bow to an Idol I shall always hate,
That a good Wife may live profusely great.
No, Lady, you shall first reduce your Pomp,
Reform your Dress, and low'r your cockling Rump;
Abate your Dainties, spin, instead of play,
And turn your Sattin into Grogram grey,
E're I'll, for sordid Gain, my Conscience smother,
And swallow Oaths repugnant to each other.
| Nuptial Dialogues and Debates | |