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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| XXXI. | Dialogue XXXI. Between a rich Sea Captain and his young
beautiful buxom Lady after six Months Marriage.
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| XXXII. |
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 | Nuptial Dialogues and Debates |  |
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Dialogue XXXI. Between a rich Sea Captain and his young beautiful buxom Lady after six Months Marriage.
Wife.You say you Love me, and admire my Charms,
And place your greatest Blessings in my Arms;
Why will you triumph then o'er Love and Ease,
T'embrace the Dangers of the doubtful Seas,
And leave me in my tender years, to mourn
Your Absence, and despair of your Return,
Forsake what you avow you most esteem,
To pile up Riches to a vain extreme.
Husband.
My Love, dear Child, I cannot but assert,
I own your Charms ride Adm'ral o'er my Heart,
'Tis for your sake that I expose my Life,
If I survive you'll be the happier Wife;
Wealth is the only sure Support that bears
From human Life the weight of Marriage Cares,
Which else might crush our Fondness now we're wed,
And spoil the Pleasures of our nuptial Bed;
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Always withdraw when Poverty appears.
Wife.
Were we in danger that approaching Want
Should cool our Love, your Argument I'd grant;
But you have Wealth enough to live at ease,
And may on Shore be happy if you please:
Nor was the Fortune which my Father paid
Too small to keep me, had I liv'd a Maid;
I had no Cause to change my Virgin State
T'indulge my Pride, and to appear more Great,
I'd all the Comforts of a Maiden Life,
Before I knew what 'twas to be a Wife:
I marry'd not for Riches, but to prove,
By sweet experience, the Delights of Love:
And now the pleasing Secret I have known,
'Tis hard I should be left to Sigh alone.
Husband.
Consider, Love, the Wars have been my Friend,
All I possess have on the Seas been gain'd;
And since my Country, who have giv'n me Bread,
Approve my Service, and require my Aid,
It must be deem'd Ingratitude to slight
The Nations Welfare for a Wife's delight:
Such tame uxorious Folly would appear
The Effects of dastard Jealousy and Fear;
As if the Charms that grac'd your blooming Youth,
Caus'd me, when absent, to distrust your Truth;
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The Publick Safety to a Wife's Embrace.
No, no, when Fame does in the Front appear,
Love should be always posted in the Rear.
I own I place much Happiness in you,
Yet cannot bid the jarring Seas adieu,
My Ship's the older Mistress of the two.
Wife.
Had I, alas, foreseen my youthful Charms,
Could not have fix'd you to my tender Arms,
But that you would have taken still more Pride
In your sham Kingdom, than a faithful Bride,
And in a wand'ring Castle spent your Life,
Instead of Anch'ring with a steadfast Wife,
He should have only joy'd in my Embrace,
Who'd lov'd me better, and his Honour less;
For I'm too young and airy to approve
Of fruitless Absence, or Platonick Love.
Husband.
Absence renews the Matrimonial Bond,
And makes the happy Nuptial Pair more fond;
It tries how far they're truly just and kind,
And proves the Strength and Vertues of the Mind,
Doubles their am'rous Ardour when they meet,
Comforts their days, and makes their Lives more sweet.
So the sharp Winter, tho' it seems severe,
It makes the soothing Spring more gay appear:
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And a fresh Gale a Calm behind a Storm.
Wife.
But I, my Dear, am Amorous and Young,
My Appetite's too keen to fast so long,
I cannot starve my Love, six Months at least,
On the bare Promise of a doubtful Feast;
For should my Vertue conquer my Desires
And bear the want of what my Youth requires,
You may return disabl'd from the Wars
Crippl'd with wounds, and maim'd with Honour's scars,
Then what amends can your poor Wife expect
For her long Patience, under cold neglect.
Husband.
Your Modesty that Question might have spar'd,
For Vertue always is its own Reward.
A Wife is bound in Duty to be Just,
She's infamous that breaks her Nuptial Trust,
'Tis her own Safety to be Chaste and Good,
She's always wretched from the time she's lewd:
Nor will the absence of her Spouse excuse
Th'adult'rous Freedoms that a Wife shall use;
There's no Condition in the Nuptial tye,
To favour Woman if she treads awry,
Tho' she for absent years lives unembrac'd,
The solemn Vow should still preserve her chaste.
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But he that steps into a marry'd Life,
Should forsake all to cleave unto his Wife;
And not like you prefer a hostile Chase
Of Honour to her kind and soft Embrace.
If you, when no Necessity requires,
Leave me alone to please your vain Desires,
'Tis you that first the Marriage Vow transgress,
And, by your Absence, tempt me to be base:
I am not safe, of Nuptial Joys debar'd,
A Husband's Presence is a Woman's Guard;
I'm Young, and in your Absence cannot tell,
How far (alas) Temptation may prevail.
A youthful Bride forsaken in her Bloom,
Will be attack'd, and may be overcome;
Meer pity will excite the young and kind,
To storm her Vertue and inflame her Mind;
And what fair she, unguarded in her Prime,
Can stand the warm Assaults of Love and Time?
Stay you at Home, and that's the only way
To make a Wife, Love, Honour, and Obey;
Then free from Fears and Dangers, shall I be,
Happy in you, and you secure in me;
But if to rove the Seas you're rashly bent,
I know not what may prove the cross Event;
Long absence may a youthful Bride provoke,
And strong Resolves be in a Moment broke.
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Methinks, my Dear, you are too plain and free,
Your Tongue exceeds the bounds of Modesty.
If now you're wed your Vertue proves so weak,
You cannot bear my Absence, lest you break
Your solemn Vow of Wedlock, to fulfil
The craving warmth of your Salacious Will;
You give me Reasons to believe from thence,
I ne'er embrac'd your Virgin Innocence,
But that you first impos'd upon my Bed,
Th'experienc'd Charms of a polluted Maid;
For if when single you could bear Restraint,
'Tis strange your Vertue should be now so faint:
If you could then resist a Man's Embrace,
Why in my Absence must you needs transgress,
Since now you know, what you before must be
Inclin'd to taste, thro' meer Curiosity.
Wife.
Had I ne'er known the Bliss I find so great,
But still continu'd in my Virgin State,
I should have been content without the Joy,
For those that never drink are ne'er adry,
Nor did I ever Sin to basely know
The pleasures that from Man's embraces flow;
You are the only he, by mighty Jove,
That ever gave me the delights of Love;
My Virgin Blush in your embrace was lost,
No Arms but yours that Happiness can boast,
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That some new Rival shall your place supply;
Nor durst I on my Female strength depend,
The stoutest Vertue may by chance offend;
Especially should your Affections stray,
Or your long Absence clear the pleasing way,
For she that's ne'er so Coy may be betray'd
By strong Attacks, if opportunely made;
For Woman, tho' well fortify'd within,
Yet Love has Bombs to fire her Magazine;
And tho' in her Defence she's ne'er so warm,
She may be won by Treachery or Storm.
Husband.
Must I, Slave-like, be fetter'd by your Charms,
And bury all my Glory in your Arms?
Must I renounce an active noble Life,
To dwell, like a tame Cuckold, with a Wife?
Abandon Honour, and forsake the Seas,
Surfeit with Plenty, and be chain'd to Ease,
Grow sick of Beauty, weary of Delight,
Drink down the Day, and snoar away the Night?
Be a dull Wretch, to drowsy Sloth inur'd,
And live confin'd, 'twixt Marriage Walls immur'd?
Thrive, like a Crab-louse, on the Brink of Love,
Till grown too Fat and Corpulent to move?
Attend the Christ'nings of a squalling Brood,
Whose Veins, perhaps, are fill'd with spurious Blood?
Drink to the Parson, tattle to the Wives,
With costly Bowls renew their drooping Lives,
And smile to hear 'em wonder how the Infant thrives.
Walk with my Lady in my Hand abroad,
To visit this sly Jilt, that private Bawd?
And thus, to please a subtle Wife, become
An Instrument of my own Cuckoldom.
And bury all my Glory in your Arms?
Must I renounce an active noble Life,
To dwell, like a tame Cuckold, with a Wife?
Abandon Honour, and forsake the Seas,
Surfeit with Plenty, and be chain'd to Ease,
Grow sick of Beauty, weary of Delight,
Drink down the Day, and snoar away the Night?
Be a dull Wretch, to drowsy Sloth inur'd,
And live confin'd, 'twixt Marriage Walls immur'd?
Thrive, like a Crab-louse, on the Brink of Love,
Till grown too Fat and Corpulent to move?
Attend the Christ'nings of a squalling Brood,
Whose Veins, perhaps, are fill'd with spurious Blood?
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With costly Bowls renew their drooping Lives,
And smile to hear 'em wonder how the Infant thrives.
Walk with my Lady in my Hand abroad,
To visit this sly Jilt, that private Bawd?
And thus, to please a subtle Wife, become
An Instrument of my own Cuckoldom.
Not I, by all the Sea-Gods in the Deep,
I'm born to Rove, and not at Home to sleep:
If you're too Free and Buxom to contain
Your self, whilst I in triumph plow the Main,
E'en take your fill, be Wanton as you please,
My Ship shall be my Bride, our Bed the Seas;
There will we toss and tumble thro' the Waves,
Whilst I bear Rule and Triumph o'er my Slaves.
I'm born to Rove, and not at Home to sleep:
If you're too Free and Buxom to contain
Your self, whilst I in triumph plow the Main,
E'en take your fill, be Wanton as you please,
My Ship shall be my Bride, our Bed the Seas;
There will we toss and tumble thro' the Waves,
Whilst I bear Rule and Triumph o'er my Slaves.
Wife.
My Dear, since I to my Affliction find,
No Female Arts can change your steady Mind,
But that I'm doom'd to so severe a Fate,
As to live Single in a Nuptial State,
Believe me, 'twas my Love, and nothing more,
Made me implore your Residence on Shore,
And take the freedom to alarm your Breast,
With what my Youth and Innocence detest;
In hopes thereby to make you quit the Seas,
And, free from Danger, live at Home in Ease;
That you may truly know how much I love,
And what a kind, obedient Wife I'd prove:
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Or soft Entreaties your Resolves controul,
Pray be assur'd, no Distance shall abate
My Love, or tempt me to those Ills I hate:
I have to Vertue all my Life been bred,
Both Fear and Scorn to stain my Nuptial-Bed.
Sin I abhor, and dread the impious Shame
That waits on Female Lust, that odious flame:
Nor should the Indies win me, or a Throne,
To prostitute those Charms you've made your own;
Therefore, believe me, whilst on Seas you dwell,
Fix'd as the Northern-Star by which you Sail,
And that no human Pow'r shall e'er remove
My Thoughts from you, my only Orb of Love:
Pious I'll live, and Constant will I be,
With heav'nly Thoughts I'll charm the raging Sea,
Pray for your safe Return, and hope you'll think of me.
Husband.
These Resolutions from so kind a Wife,
Revive my Soul, and crown my happy Life.
Be Chaste at Home, and I'll Abroad be Brave,
And thou the Honour of my Deeds shalt have.
| Nuptial Dialogues and Debates | |