University of Virginia Library

The WIFE.

Imperial Jove (as Poets sung of old)
Was coupled to a more Imperial Scold,
A jealous, termagant, insulting Jade,
And more observant than a wither'd Maid:
She watch'd his waters with unweary'd Eyes,
And chac'd the God through ev'ry sly Disguise,
Out-brav'd his Thunder with her louder Voice,
And shook the Poles with everlasting Noise.
At Midnight Revels, when the Gossips met,
He was the Theme of their eternal Chat:
This ask'd what Form great Jove would next devise,
And when his God-ship would again Taurise?
That hinted at the wanton Life he led
With Leda, and with Baby Ganymede:
Scandals, and Lyes, went merrily about,
With heav'nly Lambs-wooll, and Nectarial Stout.
Home she returns erect with Lust, and Pride,
At Bed and Board alike unsatisfy'd;
The Hen-peck'd God her angry Presence flies,
Or at her Feet the passive Thund'rer lies,
In vain: Still more she raves, still more she storms,
And Heav'ns high Vaults eccho her loud Alarms:
To Bacchus, merry Blade, the God repairs,
To drown in Nectar his Domestick Cares,
The Fury thither too pursues the Chace,
Palls the rich Juice, and poisons ev'ry Glass;
Wine that makes Cowards Brave, the Dying Strong,
Is a poor Cordial 'gainst a Woman's Tongue.
To Arms! to Arms! th' impetuous Fury cries,
The jolly God th' impending Ruin flies:
His trembling Tygers hide their fearful Heads,
Scar'd at a Fierceness which their own exceeds;
Bottles aloft like bursting Bombs resound,
And smoking spout their liquid Ruin round;
Like Storms of Hail the scatter'd Fragments fly,
Bruis'd Bowls, and broken Glass, obscure the Sky;
Tables, and Chairs, and Stools, together hurl'd,
With universal Wreck fright all the nether World.
Such was the Clamour, such great Jove's Surprize,
When by Gygantick Hands the Mountains rise,
To wrest his Thunder, and invade the Skies.
Who wou'd not envy Jove eternal Life,
And wish for God-head clogg'd with such a Wife?
If e'er it be my wayward Fate to wed,
Avert, ye Pow'rs, a Juno from my Bed:
Let her be foolish, ugly, crooked, old,
Let her be Whore, or any thing but Scold;
With Pray'rs incessant for my Lot I crave
The Quiet Cuckold, not the Hen-peck'd Slave;
Or give me Peace on Earth, or give it in the Grave.