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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| XV. | Dialogue XV. Between a tender and religious Husband, and his barren melancholy Lady.
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Dialogue XV. Between a tender and religious Husband, and his barren melancholy Lady.
Husband.Why so reserv'd and indispos'd, my Dear?
What makes my Love so a la mort appear?
As if some hidden Grief, or anxious Thought,
A sudden change had in thy Temper wrought.
How kind and pleasant did you use to prove,
All over Freedom, Gayety, and Love,
Chearful in Humour, spritely in your Mein,
All Charms without, and peaceable within?
But now, alas! each pensive Look declares
You're sunk beneath a Load of teazing Cares;
And that your tender Breast, which us'd to be
From worldly Sorrows and Afflictions free,
Has lost, on some Account, its sweet Repose,
And feels those Pains you care not to disclose.
Prithee, my Dear, the hidden Cause impart,
That clouds your Charms, and so torments your Heart.
A Wife should not ingross, but ease her Care,
And let her Husband bear an equal Share;
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To be a Comfort to each other's Breast.
Wife.
Prithee, my Dear, be easy, mind not me;
Women sometimes will out of Humour be:
Our Discontents in foolish Trifles lie;
We're vex'd or pleas'd, and know no Reason why:
Small Causes in our weak imprudent Sex,
Will oft produce extravagant Effects:
We're troubl'd with the Vapours, and from thence
Our melancholy Whims sometimes commence:
Our female Cares, like Castles in the Air,
Are built so thin, they'll no Enquiry bear:
Small Grief in us, a high Concern appears;
What Men despise, will cause a Woman's Tears.
Therefore I hope you are too wise to mind
The unexpected Changes that you find
In wav'ring Woman, fickle as the Wind.
Husband.
Why should you use Evasions, when you know
I can't but share the Discontent you show?
I grieve to see so fair and good a Wife,
With needless Cares, perplex her nuptial Life;
Draw Age upon her Charms before her Time,
And make her anxious Thoughts her only Crime.
I can't but share the Discontent you show?
I grieve to see so fair and good a Wife,
With needless Cares, perplex her nuptial Life;
Draw Age upon her Charms before her Time,
And make her anxious Thoughts her only Crime.
Have I, by any slight, disturb'd your Mind?
Am I morose when up, in Bed unkind?
Have I one vicious Habit you abhor?
Or do you think I ought to love you more?
Have you not Cloaths, and all Things that agree
With your Birth, Fortune, and your Quality?
Or are you jealous that Abroad I shew
More Kindness to some other Fair, than you?
If any Slights of mine distastful prove,
Let me but know, and I'll the Cause remove.
Believe my Love is too sincere and great
T'annoy your Ease, or to incur your Hate.
Therefore, my Dear, if you delight to shew
The same Regard that I profess for you,
Tell me the Causes of your Discontent,
That, by removing yours, I may my own prevent.
Am I morose when up, in Bed unkind?
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Or do you think I ought to love you more?
Have you not Cloaths, and all Things that agree
With your Birth, Fortune, and your Quality?
Or are you jealous that Abroad I shew
More Kindness to some other Fair, than you?
If any Slights of mine distastful prove,
Let me but know, and I'll the Cause remove.
Believe my Love is too sincere and great
T'annoy your Ease, or to incur your Hate.
Therefore, my Dear, if you delight to shew
The same Regard that I profess for you,
Tell me the Causes of your Discontent,
That, by removing yours, I may my own prevent.
Wife.
In you I'm blest, and cannot but approve
Your prudent Conduct, and your faithful Love:
Had I a Myriad of delightful Charms,
Or could I boast a Heaven in my Arms,
All I could do to bless your gen'rous Mind,
Would be too little for a Man so kind.
Therefore, my Dear, in you I happy am,
Beyond the Merits of so coarse a Dame;
And should be base to murmur, or accuse
So just a Man, who so much Kindness shews,
That were I wealthy as the Mines of Spain,
And unconfin'd, I'd chuse you o'er again;
Yet there is something does my Ease destroy,
And makes me wretched in the midst of Joy;
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And in the height of Pleasure, bids me mourn.
Husband.
What secret Causes can a Woman find,
If blest in Marriage, to afflict her Mind?
So long as she approves the Choice she's made,
What frightful Notions can disturb her Head,
Or plague her Breast, especially when free
From Sickness, and secure from Poverty?
'Tis strange to me. But prithee, Dear, explain
This Riddle hatch'd in thy uneasy Brain,
That I may use such Measures as are best
To drive these airy Phantoms from your Breast.
Wife.
Tho' at my Sorrows you are thus amaz'd,
My Dear, I would not have you think I'm craz'd;
Since Nature has abridg'd my female Pow'r,
'Tis for your sake that I my self abhor:
For Man in Wedlock join'd, delights to see
His Image in a lively Progeny,
That as they flourish, and himself grows old,
He may, in them, his Infant-State behold:
Nor can a Husband truly love a Wife,
That adds not these sweet Blessings to his Life;
For Wedlock's but a License to enjoy,
'Tis Children that confirms the sacred Tie:
And where those Blessings are with-held, I fear
A Wife must lose th'Affections of her Dear.
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And look upon my self with Shame and Scorn.
Husband.
Teaze not thy self with such unhappy Thoughts,
The Want of Issue's neither of our Fau'ts;
They are the Gift of Heaven, and bestow'd,
Not when we please, but when the Lord thinks good.
Should I your kind Abilities distrust,
I should be sinful, cruel, and unjust:
If Nature is to blame between us two,
I might as well condemn my self as you.
Should I on this Account less loving be,
You've equal Cause to look with Scorn on me;
For since the Means do both our Aid require,
Who knows which wants the procreative Fire?
But still the Fault does not on Nature fall,
For there's a Power above that governs all;
Who, by his secret Will, directs our Fate,
And knows what's best for Man in ev'ry State.
Therefore let no such Thoughts disturb your Ease;
For 'tis a Sin to pine at Heav'n's Decrees.
Wife.
If Children that confirm our nuptial Love,
Are allow'd Blessings given from above,
Sure we have greatly sinn'd, that we're deny'd
Those Comforts by the meanest Slaves enjoy'd.
What have we done, that we alone should want
What Heav'n to many does so freely grant?
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For us, than others, still our Fate's more hard.
The Arguments you urge, improve my Care,
And only leave me in a worse Despair.
Husband.
But Children do not always Blessings prove
Sometimes they're sent as Judgments from above.
Harlots, we see, that prostitute their Charms,
And yield their Favours to unlawful Arms,
Against their Wills have Issue to proclaim
Their Parents Lewdness, to their publick Shame,
That Looks dissembl'd may no longer hide
Those sinful Pleasures they've so long enjoy'd;
But wanting Vertue, they at last may feel
Th'Effects of what th'endeavour to conceal;
For tho' the Vicious act their Joys by Night,
Th'Event oft brings their secret Sins to Light.
How oft are careful Mother's disobey'd,
And by a wicked Offspring wretched made?
How frequently do Sons unhappy prove,
And Daughters yield to base unlawful Love;
Grow proud and stubborn in their tender Years,
And fill their Parents full of Cares and Fears;
Despise the Womb that brought 'em forth with Pain,
From Duty swerve, and all Advice disdain;
As they advance in Years, grow worse and worse,
So far from Blessings, that they prove a Curse;
Pursue, without controul, their sinful ways,
Till their own Vices end their wretched Days?
Had we a Son, what Mortal can foresee,
In spite of Care, how wicked he might be;
Crooked in Body, or deform'd in Mind,
Shallow in Intellects, dum, deaf, or blind;
Perfidious, cruel, thirsty after Blood,
Prone to all Mischief, and avers'd to Good;
Perhaps, like Judas, destin'd to subdue
His Father, and to wed his Mother too?
Why therefore do you pine for what may prove
A thorny Bryar to our nuptial Love,
And breed that Variance we may ne'er survive,
But feel the sad Effects of whilst we live?
Sometimes they're sent as Judgments from above.
Harlots, we see, that prostitute their Charms,
And yield their Favours to unlawful Arms,
Against their Wills have Issue to proclaim
Their Parents Lewdness, to their publick Shame,
That Looks dissembl'd may no longer hide
Those sinful Pleasures they've so long enjoy'd;
But wanting Vertue, they at last may feel
Th'Effects of what th'endeavour to conceal;
For tho' the Vicious act their Joys by Night,
Th'Event oft brings their secret Sins to Light.
How oft are careful Mother's disobey'd,
And by a wicked Offspring wretched made?
How frequently do Sons unhappy prove,
And Daughters yield to base unlawful Love;
Grow proud and stubborn in their tender Years,
And fill their Parents full of Cares and Fears;
Despise the Womb that brought 'em forth with Pain,
From Duty swerve, and all Advice disdain;
As they advance in Years, grow worse and worse,
So far from Blessings, that they prove a Curse;
Pursue, without controul, their sinful ways,
Till their own Vices end their wretched Days?
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In spite of Care, how wicked he might be;
Crooked in Body, or deform'd in Mind,
Shallow in Intellects, dum, deaf, or blind;
Perfidious, cruel, thirsty after Blood,
Prone to all Mischief, and avers'd to Good;
Perhaps, like Judas, destin'd to subdue
His Father, and to wed his Mother too?
Why therefore do you pine for what may prove
A thorny Bryar to our nuptial Love,
And breed that Variance we may ne'er survive,
But feel the sad Effects of whilst we live?
Besides, without Experience, none can guess
The painful Sorrows, and the sad Distress
With which each lab'ring Nerve and Vein is fill'd,
Before the pregnant Womb its Fruits can yield.
Many we see, who want sufficient Pow'r
To struggle, perish in the fatal Hour,
Too weak, alas! by Nature to sustain
The grand Fatigue, they sink beneath the Pain.
Why therefore do you wish to undergo
Such Pangs, which do such Numbers overthrow,
When the first Offspring you so much desire,
May prove your last, and force you to expire?
Therefore your want of Issue ne'er bemoan.
But learn to be content that you have none,
And bless good Heaven that you live so clear
From Tortures other Wives are forc'd to bear.
As for my Part, I love you ne'er the less,
That we have hugg'd so long without Success;
For I submit to Heav'n in all Affairs,
And ne'er will wretched be for want of Heirs,
Since they're oft destin'd, by their Stars, to prove
Cares, and not Comforts, to their Parents Love.
Why grieve you then, that Heaven denies to grant.
What, f'r ought we know, 's our Happiness to want.
Pine not, my dear Lucinda, since we both
Are blest, 'less you provoke the Gods to Wrath;
And, when they're angry, by your Prayers obtain
A Child, whose stubborn Birth may prove your Bane,
Or, if you live, torment you, and distract your Brain.
The painful Sorrows, and the sad Distress
With which each lab'ring Nerve and Vein is fill'd,
Before the pregnant Womb its Fruits can yield.
Many we see, who want sufficient Pow'r
To struggle, perish in the fatal Hour,
Too weak, alas! by Nature to sustain
The grand Fatigue, they sink beneath the Pain.
Why therefore do you wish to undergo
Such Pangs, which do such Numbers overthrow,
When the first Offspring you so much desire,
May prove your last, and force you to expire?
Therefore your want of Issue ne'er bemoan.
But learn to be content that you have none,
And bless good Heaven that you live so clear
From Tortures other Wives are forc'd to bear.
As for my Part, I love you ne'er the less,
That we have hugg'd so long without Success;
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And ne'er will wretched be for want of Heirs,
Since they're oft destin'd, by their Stars, to prove
Cares, and not Comforts, to their Parents Love.
Why grieve you then, that Heaven denies to grant.
What, f'r ought we know, 's our Happiness to want.
Pine not, my dear Lucinda, since we both
Are blest, 'less you provoke the Gods to Wrath;
And, when they're angry, by your Prayers obtain
A Child, whose stubborn Birth may prove your Bane,
Or, if you live, torment you, and distract your Brain.
Wife.
Since you can love me, tho' I am not blest
With your dear Image at my tender Breast,
My future Grief I'll labour to prevent,
And strive, my Dear, to be, like you, content;
For 'twas my Fear your Kindness should decline,
Thro' Want of Sons, that caus'd me to repine;
But since you're easy, tho' my Fate be hard,
Your pious Counsels, and your kind Regard
For my afflicted Mind, my Cares remove,
And make me happy in your gen'rous Love.
| Nuptial Dialogues and Debates | |