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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| XIX. | Dialogue XIX. Between an honest-blunt Gentleman, and his fantastical Lady,
who, between forty and fifty, had made her a colour'd Furbelo'd-Scarf.
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 | Nuptial Dialogues and Debates |  |
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Dialogue XIX. Between an honest-blunt Gentleman, and his fantastical Lady, who, between forty and fifty, had made her a colour'd Furbelo'd-Scarf.
Husband.Wounds, Wife, what a strange Figure do you make?
Sure thou hast got a Rainbow on thy Back!
What Herald's Mantle do my Eyes behold?
You quite forget, my Dear, you're growing old.
Sure mortal Man, till this Time, never fix'd
His Eyes on Youth and Age so odly mix'd.
I'll swear thy Dress would human Sight confound;
Thou shin'st like any Dyer's Tenter-Ground,
Where scarlet, purple, red, blue, yellow, green,
Are at one transient view confus'dly seen.
You're very fine, I vow, and much more gay
Than fifty speckl'd Butterflies in May.
Had it not been for thy old Face and Mein,
I'd thought thee some young taudry Fairy Queen;
Or else a pert, unthinking, little Fool
In her Ball-Dress, broke loose from Dancing-School.
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Has made thee guilty of this foolish Fault?
Wife.
What makes thee wonder at me so, my Dear,
'Tis the same Mode that other Women wear?
Look round you when at Church, and you may see
A thousand Wives more taudry dress'd than me;
But my Apparel ne'er can please your Eye;
You're always finding Fault with what I buy.
Therefore I am but foolish, I confess,
To vex at your disliking of my Dress:
I verily believe you'd have me go
In high-crown'd Hat and Coif, like Gammar Crow.
I'm sure Miss Titup, when she hither came,
Had a new Scarf just furbelo'd the same;
Therefore you might have seen, as she was drest,
What Fashion 'tis that most is in request.
Husband.
Why, you old Fool, would you Example take
By a young, childish, giddy, wanton Crack,
Scarce in her Teens, whose Waste is but a Span,
That ne'er knew how to quench the Rage of Man?
Such callow Girls may be allow'd to wear
Fangles, in hopes to tempt some foolish Heir;
In Peacock's Feathers they may cloath their Tails,
For Dress, as much as Beauty oft prevails:
But for a Wife in Party-colour'd Hairs,
Older than Paul's by almost thirty Years;
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Who may, within a Year, a Grannum prove;
To wrap old Stubble in so lewd a Dress,
Makes thee look wanton, tho' thou'rt past Embrace;
And lets the World, by thy Apparel, see,
That thy Desire survives Capacity;
For a stale Wife that has out liv'd her Charms,
Is but mere Lumber in a Husband's Arms.
What then, by such vain Dresses, can you mean,
Except to shew you'd fain be young again?
Or that you hop'd to tempt some Fool to own
You still have Charms, when all Men see you've none?
Wife.
All this, my Dear, is but your usual Way
To me, I know you care not what you say:
But why reflect upon my Age? 'Tis true,
I'm past my Prime, but not so old as you;
And still have Youth enough, whene'er you try,
To hold you tack, tho' not to please your Eye;
Therefore, my Dear, I study to improve
My Charms, by Dresses, to revive your Love;
For as in Beauty I decline, I find
Your Words less am'rous, and your Deeds less kind.
Why then do you condemn me for my Pride,
And angry seem that I my Wrinkles hide,
Since these Temptations, round my Neck, you see,
Are worn to make you young, as well as me?
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Well said, my Dear, your Wheedle makes me laugh,
But I'm too old a Bird to stoop to Chaff.
Few Wives dress airy to delight their Spouse,
Rather to tempt some Fool to horn his Brows.
No Taylor's Charms a Husband can excite,
Stript of your Plumes he views you ev'ry Night.
He hugs you as Dame Nature let you pass,
Without the Arts you study by your Glass;
Therefore no Silks can cheat his skilful Eyes;
He knows fine Feathers are but mere Disguise;
And tho' his Owl a Peacock's Tail should wear,
He would not think his Bird a Jot more fair.
No, no, rich Laces out of Flanders brought,
Admir'd so highly, and so dearly bought;
Your Silks and Sattins to oblige your Pride,
So finely wrought, of Rainbow-Colours dy'd;
Your Jewels, Rings, your Patches, and your Paints;
And Juts and Congees a-la-mode of France;
Your soothing Carriage, your engaging Airs;
Your killing Glances, and your am'rous Snares,
Are seldom us'd in order to renew
Old fading Love betwixt your Spouse and you;
But that Abroad you may the better pass
For a gay Dame with some admiring Ass;
Who, thus deceiv'd, may wish you in his Arms,
And doat, Fool like, upon your borrow'd Charms.
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You're of a strange odd Humour, I protest;
I hope, my Dear, you only talk in Jest.
Why should you treat me with such light Regard?
I blush to hear you Censure me so hard.
You say I'm old, how then can you believe
I'm fond to tempt, or willing to deceive?
Or if I was, who'd think it worth their Time
To vow Respect to Woman past her Prime.
I only, for your Credit, love to shew
My outward Pride, as other Ladies do:
I value no kind flattering Address,
Seek no Man's Praise, his Admiration less.
I thank my Stars, since I have steer'd my Youth
Within the Bounds of Vertue, and of Truth,
I shall not at these riper Years be free
To stain my Honour with the greatest He:
Therefore I hope you harbour no such Thought,
I dress but as your Wife or Lady ought;
But if you think that I too gay appear,
Or that you grutch the costly Robes I wear,
I'll lay them by, since they your Sight offend,
And be content with such you'll recommend.
Husband.
Wives, who for twenty Years have Mothers been,
Should scorn in such gay Frip'ries to be seen.
The Woman shews most Prudence, that appears
In grave Apparel, suited to her Years;
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But forfeits that Respect she thinks she gains.
So an old Abby's venerable Walls,
Adorn'd with new Imbellishments, like Paul's,
Would lose its ancient Reverence and State,
When patch'd with Ornaments of modern Date.
Yet, since your Pride has tempted you to buy
Such painted Wings, more fit for Butterfly,
Pray wear them till their gaudy Lustre fades,
Admir'd by foolish Beaus, and taudry Jades;
But pray, when these by Age are rent and torn,
And to a scandalous Condition worn,
Let me no more such wanton Garments see,
But recollect your Age, and dress like me;
Wear good, but grave Apparel, pray herea'ter,
And dress not to provoke my Neighbours Laughter,
But let them know the Mother from the Daughter.
Wife.
'Tis a hard Fate on Woman to be old,
But worse to be upbraided and controul'd.
Age steals too soon into a female Face;
But why must she proclaim it in her Dress?
However, since I find it is your Will,
I'll change my Garb, and your Desires fulfil;
For tho' such Dictates, that abridge a Wife
Of Dress, are Hardships to a Woman's Life,
Yet nothing is so bad as nuptial Strife.
| Nuptial Dialogues and Debates | |