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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| V. | DIALOGUE V. Between a melancholy fanciful Gentleman and his merry bantering Wife.
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 | Nuptial Dialogues and Debates |  |
DIALOGUE V. Between a melancholy fanciful Gentleman and his merry bantering Wife.
Husband.I'm very ill, my Dear, I find
I'm, Bladder-like, blown up with Wind;
See how I'm swell'd from Head to Foot,
As big as a Canary Butt:
Prithee, my Dear, observe my Nose,
How wonderfully large it grows;
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Is my poor crazy Noddle made,
And feels as if, from Flesh and Bone,
'Twas newly chang'd to Wood or Stone.
Pray, my Dear, send for some Physician,
I find I'm in a strange Condition.
Wife.
'Tis true, you're greatly swell'd of late,
But yet, I hope, 'twill soon abate,
Unless some Spider has undone ye,
By pissing in your Sleep, upon ye,
Or else crept slily down your Throat,
When you were fast and did not know't;
Such Accidents sometimes, in spight
Of Care, may happen in the Night:
But should it prove so, I am sure
My Cordial will effect the Cure,
Here take a lusty Dram, my Dear,
'Tis a rare Antidote, I'll swear;
One Glass will carry off the Wind,
And raise a stinking Storm behind,
Reduce you, from a monstrous Stature,
To a brisk, lively, mod'rate Creature;
Bring down your Nose, so big about,
To be a pretty midling Snout;
And make your Head no bigger show,
Then 'twas an Heur or two ago.
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Then hand it quickly to my Mouth,
That it may stop my speedy Growth;
For at this rate I am afraid,
My Doors must all be wider made,
And to my great Expence and Charge,
My Beds and Chairs be made more large;
For I'm already grown a Beast,
A meer squab Elephant at least,
A huge fat Monster of a Man,
With Head like any Sarazen.
Wife.
Drink this, my Dear, 'twill mend the Matter,
And fetch down your gygantick Stature;
This single Dose, I dare maintain,
Will bring you into Shape again;
When I've been swell'd with Wind, for want
Of Vent, as big as John of Gaunt,
That I was larger I may swear,
Than well-fed Ox or Flanders-Mare,
I'd take but one refreshing Coag,
Of this Balsamick Chimagog,
And in a quarter of an Hour
'Twould expel Wind with so much Pow'r,
That ev'ry Puff at Mouth or Tail,
Would blow round any Windmil-sail,
And each Eruption roar as loud
As Clap of Thunder from a Cloud:
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Not only upwards, but behind,
Till I became again by Tipling
This Cordial, such a slender Stripling,
That many fancy'd, by my Stature,
I only fed on Bread and Water,
To be a Pissle-wasted Creature.
Husband.
I've drank it off, and hope that I
May find like Benefit thereby;
It warms my Stomach, and revives
My Heart; O! thou'rt the best of Wives.
Methinks a Hurricane I feel
Blow thro' my Veins from Head to Heel,
And Whirlwinds in my Bowels pent,
Are striving both ways for a Vent.
Stand off, beware the Blast, my Dear,
I find a mighty Storm is near,
That will in Belch or Fizzle fly,
Upwards or downwards by and by.
O! how it rowls within like Thunder,
As if 'twould rend my Guts asunder.
Row, dow, 'tis gone, hold fast, my Dear,
What a loud dreadful Blast was there!
I greatly fear'd it might have blown
The House, or Stack of Chimneys down.
Some Evil Spirit sure possest me,
And by his hellish Pow'r opprest me;
It must be so, for do but mind
The Brimstone Scent 't has left behind.
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Now this tormenting Fury's flown;
I am much better, that I am,
Wife, prithee give me t'other Dram,
Thou best of all the Female Race,
Fill't up, I'll venture t'other Glass,
Who knows but this Infernal Fiend,
That fled in such a boist'rous Wind,
Has left some evil Dregs behind.
Wife.
I know one Dose has work'd the Cure,
'Tis good, however, to be sure:
I find your Swelling's much abated,
You've now no mighty Nose or Great-head,
But from a Monster art become
Almost as little as Tom Thumb;
Your Mill-Post Legs, to me be Thanks,
Are now reduc'd to Spindle-shanks;
And your huge Belly, that was blown
To twice the bigness of a Tun,
In this short time appears to be
Not above Firkin-size to me:
I'm certain you yourself must find
Your bulky Greatness much declin'd,
And that you're growing downwards now,
Like Tail of Heifer or of Cow.
However, to compleat the Cure,
I'll venture you with one Dram more,
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And carr' off all the Dregs that grieve you.
Husband.
Thank you, good Wife, I must allow,
I'd been a Monster but for you,
Fit only to've been shown at Fairs,
Among Wolves, Elephants and Bears;
Or to have stood against the Wall,
Twixt Gog and Magog in Guild-hall.
But thank you, Dear, this t'other Glass
Has made my Swelling fall apace:
But should I waste all Night as fast,
As I have done this half Hour past,
I fear by th'Morning 'twould reduce
My manly Stature to a Mouse,
And that's as bad as 'tis to be
A huge gygantick Prodigy.
Methinks 'tis better to be fear'd,
With a large Head and mighty Beard,
Be gaz'd at and admir'd by all,
For being monstrous big and tall,
Than be despis'd for being small.
Wife.
I find it difficult to please ye,
You're neither full or fasting easy;
But like my Grannum's useless Kettle,
Either too big or else too little;
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To bring so huge a Monster back,
From b'ing the Wonder of our Eyes,
To be a Man of a dapper size,
Will find out some effectual Dose,
To stop your dwindling to a Mouse,
'Twould be a Scandal to myself
To have you run from Shelf to Shelf,
Or live i'th' corner of my Cupboard,
I'd rather you should be a Lubbard,
A huge unwieldy Fellow, fit
For nothing but to lie or sit.
I should abhor to have a Spouse
Run squeaking up and down the House,
A Pigmy, lesser than a Rat,
That would not dare to face a Cat,
But, if Puss Evans should appear,
Skulk into Holes I know not where.
No, no, I have a new Invention,
To stop so scurvy a Declension,
I'll twenty pretty ways devise,
To keep you up to humane Size,
Before I'll let you backwards grow,
To such a Pigmy Bedfellow;
I like a comely midling Spouse,
Between a Monster and a Mouse,
And you shall find that such a one
Ill make of you, before I've done.
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Thank you, good Wife, but see how fast
Each withering Limb begins to waste,
My very Hands are fall'n away,
How will you stop this swift Decay;
My Arms are dwindl'd into Straws,
My Fingers into Sparrows Claws;
Into Sheep-shanks my Legs are grown,
Alas, I scarce can stand alone;
My Belly's gone I know not whither,
My Body's but a Kex or Feather.
O! help me now, my Dear, I pray do,
For I'm quite wasted to a Shadow,
A perfect Ghost, enough to fright
All that should meet me in the Night:
I am meer Air: keep close, I pray,
The Door, or I shall fly away;
I'm turning to an empty Nothing,
That has no Substance but my Cloathing;
Therefore, my Dear, I pray be speedy
In your Assistance, now I need ye,
Or I'm afraid I soon shall be
Changed to a strange Non-entity,
And wanting your kind Application,
By wasting, suffer Annih''lation.
Wife.
Consid'ring how profusely great
Your monstrous Body was of late,
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And what a Nose you had thereon,
I cannot but confess and say,
I think you're strangely fall'n away;
So an Ox-Bladder ty'd and blown,
Till to the full Extent 'tis grown,
Looks plump till we discharge the Wind,
And then the skinny Bag we find
To nothing shrinks that's left behind.
However, don't despair of Cure,
My Physick's speedy, safe and sure;
By downright Kitchen Application,
I'll stop your further Declination;
I've something o'er the Fire below,
Will plump you up and make you grow
As fat, as lively, brisk and gay
As you have been this many-a-day:
Be patient, it shall soon be here,
I'll step and fetch it up, my Dear,
'Twill prove at once both Food and Physick,
And will cure any Man that is sick.
Husband.
Thank you a thousand times, my Dear,
Thou best of all the gentle Fair.
When I am in this sad Condition,
Thou always art my best Physician.
Alas! How wretched would my Life
Prove, without such a tender Wife?
Tho' 'tis behind her Back I say't,
No Man has sure so kind a Mate,
A Friend, a Doct'ress and a Creature
That's full of nothing but Good-nature.
But, bless me! how I'm drip'd away,
Like Ice upon a Sun-shine Day.
Methinks I cannot see or feel
An Ounce of Flesh from Head to Heel.
How lean, how meagre, and how thin
Are my sharp Nose, my Jaws, my Chin,
As if I was become my own
Memento, e're my Life was flown!
What Legs, what Thighs, what Arms are here,
Nothing but Skin and Bone appear!
I'm only fit to be lock'd up
In a Glass Case in Surgeon's Shop,
There to be mus'd upon and seen,
By ev'ry Patient that comes in.
Thou best of all the gentle Fair.
When I am in this sad Condition,
Thou always art my best Physician.
Alas! How wretched would my Life
Prove, without such a tender Wife?
56
No Man has sure so kind a Mate,
A Friend, a Doct'ress and a Creature
That's full of nothing but Good-nature.
But, bless me! how I'm drip'd away,
Like Ice upon a Sun-shine Day.
Methinks I cannot see or feel
An Ounce of Flesh from Head to Heel.
How lean, how meagre, and how thin
Are my sharp Nose, my Jaws, my Chin,
As if I was become my own
Memento, e're my Life was flown!
What Legs, what Thighs, what Arms are here,
Nothing but Skin and Bone appear!
I'm only fit to be lock'd up
In a Glass Case in Surgeon's Shop,
There to be mus'd upon and seen,
By ev'ry Patient that comes in.
Come, prithee, Death, and end my Days—
What a long while this Woman stays!
But the sick Spouse should be possest
O'th' Patience of a Job at least;
For the Wife thinks the feeble Drone
But a sad Burthen till he's gone.
O! here she comes at last, I find.
My Jewel, thou'rt extreamly kind:
But I am almost spent, I fear
I'm past Recov'ry now, my Dear.
What a long while this Woman stays!
But the sick Spouse should be possest
O'th' Patience of a Job at least;
For the Wife thinks the feeble Drone
But a sad Burthen till he's gone.
O! here she comes at last, I find.
My Jewel, thou'rt extreamly kind:
But I am almost spent, I fear
I'm past Recov'ry now, my Dear.
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Here's that, my Love, will strengthen Nature,
And make you quite another Creature:
Fall to and eat this fat young Capon,
Well boil'd, with butter'd Sprouts and Bacon,
'Tis th'only thing a learn'd Physician
Prescribes to those in your Condition:
'Twill plump your Veins and make you grow
In Flesh, whether you will or no,
Exalt your Spirits and relieve you,
In spite of all the Ills that grieve you.
How white it looks, how fine it cuts,
See how the lushious Gravy spouts;
Here take this lovely Wing and Liver,
There's Greens, and here's a charming Sliver:
Of Hampshire Bacon, fat and lean,
So finely streak'd, so red within,
That 'tis sufficient to invite
The nicest sickly Appetite,
To eat a Pound of 't at a Meal,
Altho' the Patient's ne'er so ill.
Well done, my Dear, I'm glad to see
A sick Man feed so heartily;
It is a Sign of speedy Health,
As Av'rice seems to promise Wealth:
And still the more you eat and faster,
The sooner your Disease you'll master.
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Indeed, my Dear, 'tis very good,
This serves for Physick and for Food,
Does not alone the Palate please.
But fights and conquers the Disease,
And gives you present Demonstration,
'Tis double in its Operation.
I find already I'm much better,
Each Mouthful makes me grow the fatter.
Ah! Wife, thou art my only Blessing,
A Comfort far beyond expressing;
Thy Kitchen-Physick much exceeds
The Juice of nasty Drugs and Weeds,
For ev'ry Bit that now I swallow,
Makes me more fleshy and less hollow.
See how my Legs and Arms begin
To plump, that were before so lean!
And how my Face, that was no more
Than a Deaths-Head but just before,
Is now with Substance cover'd o'er.
Wifes.
Here's a fine Leg, pray do but view it,
Take t'other Slice of Hampshire to it;
One Spoonful more of Greens, my Dear,
Eat freely, Love, and never fear,
I'd have you pick it while it's warm,
I ne'er advise you to your harm,
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That's hot and hot, as well as I.
Husband.
I vow, my Dear, what you have put on
My Plate's enough to serve a Glutton.
I fear that I shall thrive with eating
At this rate, faster than 'tis fitting,
And grow, by dint of Food, once more,
As big a Monster as before.
Wife.
Ne'er fear it, Love, but fill thy Belly,
And when you've eat enough I'll tell ye,
I've a small Dose to give you a'ter,
That I'll engage, shall stint your Stature:
I'll stop the Swelling of your Waste,
And ev'ry Part that grows too fast.
Your thriving Nose shall prove no more
Too monstrous for your Parlor-door,
I've Dazy-Roots, first bruis'd and boil'd,
And Cordials from the same distill'd,
Which, if administer'd in Season,
Will stop your growing out of reason,
That no fine Beau, that cups and sweats,
And thrice a Week at Gaming frets,
Shall to the charming Ladies shew
A finer Shape, my Dear, than you.
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And have you such a wond'rous Art,
Thou only Comfort of my Heart,
Then I'll eat t'other Wing, I'll swear,
And Leg too, if you please, my Dear;
For by my pidling and my picking
This lovely Fowl, this tender Chicken,
I find in Belly, Limbs, and Face,
I gather Flesh and Strength apace.
Wife.
Eat Legs and Wings, and pick the Body,
I'm certain 'twill not incommode ye,
Boil'd Fowls a Dish I never care for,
Altho' I know not why or wherefore:
Besides, I'm well, and you are sick,
Therefore do you the Carcass pick,
I like the Sprouts and Bacon best,
I'll sup on that, take you the rest.
I'm certain 'twill not incommode ye,
Boil'd Fowls a Dish I never care for,
Altho' I know not why or wherefore:
Besides, I'm well, and you are sick,
Therefore do you the Carcass pick,
I like the Sprouts and Bacon best,
I'll sup on that, take you the rest.
But now, my Dear, 'tis time, I think,
Amidst your eating, you should drink,
Here take a Glass of Red, 'tis good
To wash down and digest your Food:
Or else your Stomach being weak,
Your Meat, perhaps, may make you sick,
For want of Liquor that is proper
To drive down such a hearty Supper.
Amidst your eating, you should drink,
Here take a Glass of Red, 'tis good
To wash down and digest your Food:
Or else your Stomach being weak,
Your Meat, perhaps, may make you sick,
For want of Liquor that is proper
To drive down such a hearty Supper.
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Thank you, my Dear, for all your Care:
Your Health,—'tis very good I'll swear;
It warms my Stomach, and I find
By this same Belch, it brings up Wind,
And has already made me fit
To venture on another Bit.
Well, Wife, thou'rt qualify'd to be
Doct'ress t' a Prince, as well as me.
Thy Physick may be eas'ly taken,
What Pills can equal Fowl and Bacon?
Or what Physician's Cordial save me,
When sick, like what you just now gave me?
I vow, my Dear, I must desire
The other Glass, but fill it high'r;
For, I protest, you cannot think,
How much I mend, each Cup I drink.
Wife.
I would not have you be too busy,
For fear its Fumes should make you dizzy:
You that within this Hour were drawn
To a poor thin-jaw'd Skeleton,
Whose Bones were worn so very bare,
Your Ribs, like Rack-staves did appear,
And your Head only fit to grace
A Church-yard-gate, or such-like Place;
Or to stand grinning on a Glass,
That tells us how our Minutes pass,
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And are become a Span new Creature;
Yet, in regard you've lately been
So sick, so ghastly and so lean,
Be careful after so much eating,
You drink no more than what is fitting,
Lest your Consumption, by your tipling,
Should once more waste you to a Stripling.
Husband.
I thank you for your Care and Caution,
I know 'tis for my Health's Promotion;
Yet one kind Bumper would impart
New Life and Comfort up my Heart,
Make me as brisk, I dare to say,
As Roger on his Wedding-Day.
But I shall faint, my Dear, I vow,
Unless you give it me just now.
You see, alas, I droop apace,
Only for want of t'other Glass.
O! Dear, I sicker grow and sicker,
Good Food, I find, requires good Liquor.
Nay, fill it higher, for my Heart
Is sick enough to drink a Quart.
Wife.
Here, take a Bumper, for I doubt
You will relapse indeed without.
I hope your Conscience will allow
You've had a dose sufficient now.
63
You've been, you've a rare swallow still.
Believe me, Honey, since you sicken'd,
Your Brain, I find, is not much weaken'd,
You've a rare Constitution really,
You drink your Liquor off as freely
As if you were not marr'd but mended
By all the Sickness you pretended.
So breeding Women, who complain
Of qualmish Sickness, and of Pain,
When once the Groaning Bout is o'er,
Are better than they were before.
Husband.
Ah! Wife, I'm now a new-born Creature;
This Glass has made me ten times better.
I'm warm and well, upon my Word,
As brisk and lively as a Bird:
Had I but Pinions, I could fly;
I'm now, methinks, all Life and Joy;
I'm grown as strong as any Sampson,
And plump and juicy as a Damson;
This Night, I'm certain, I shall prove,
When we're abed, all over Love:
I'll swear Im strenuous, lusty, strong,
Brisk, boyish, amorous and young,
And were we now between the Sheets,
I could, methinks do wond'rous Feats.
I ne'er was better in my Life,
This 'tis to have so kind a Wife;
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But I'll reward thee by and by.
Wife.
It is enough for me to hear
You're grown so very brisk, my Dear;
I'm glad I've lengthen'd out your Span,
And made you such a vig'rous Man:
I hope there's no ill Relicts in you,
But that your Health may long continue.
However, since your Heart's so light,
And you are in so good a plight,
Take t'other Glass of Cordial Red,
To crown your Supper, so to Bed;
For tho' my Physick's safe and sure,
Tis Rest that must confirm the Cure;
For all Distempers of the Brain,
For want of Rest, return again,
Husband.
Dear Wife, this Cordial Red of yours
Is worth a thousand other Cures;
It is so sprightly and so charming,
So comfortable and so warming,
That I could drink, at least, a Quart,
I'm sure, and do my self no hurt:
Other Physicians Drams are loathsome,
But thine, my Jewel, are so toothsome,
And trickle down one's Throat so purely,
That I could drink thy Doses hourly.
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Of stinking Herbs and Barrel-Grounds,
Made sweet by Syrups and Molossos,
Boil'd up by Galen's Virtuoso's;
But the kind Cordial thou hast given,
Drinks like the very Dew of Heaven.
It runs through ev'ry Vein, I feel,
And tickles me from Head to Heel
Gives warmth and pleasure to my Brain,
And makes me something more than Man.
Ah! Wife, when we're in Bed you'll find,
This Red will make me wond'rous kind.
I'm grown a perfect Boy again,
I've Youth, I find, in ev'ry Vein,
And shall, my Dear, this Night repay
All your past Kindness of the Day.
Wife.
You promise largely, but I fear
'Tis only in your Head, my Dear,
I wish I could your Veins inspire,
With as much Youth as you desire,
And that you were as lusty grown,
And Am'rous as at Twenty-one,
I question not but it would be
The better both for you and me;
I'm glad you're such an alter'd Man,
I hope to find you so, anon,
And that these wicked Hags that ride you
So oft, will now no more bestride you,
'Tis only in your Head, my Dear,
I wish I could your Veins inspire,
With as much Youth as you desire,
And that you were as lusty grown,
And Am'rous as at Twenty-one,
I question not but it would be
The better both for you and me;
I'm glad you're such an alter'd Man,
I hope to find you so, anon,
And that these wicked Hags that ride you
So oft, will now no more bestride you,
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But, prithee Dear, now you're so strong,
So brisk, so airy, and so young,
Let's go to Bed, whilst you're so hearty,
And thus reduc'd to under thirty,
For fear some Fantome should arise,
And disappoint our promis'd Joys;
For many things are apt to slip
Between the Goblet and the Lip.
Come, give's your Hand, now nothing ails you,
Let's go before your Courage fails you.
Don't talk so much, but do what's fitting,
The Proof o'th' Pudding's in the eating.
So brisk, so airy, and so young,
Let's go to Bed, whilst you're so hearty,
And thus reduc'd to under thirty,
For fear some Fantome should arise,
And disappoint our promis'd Joys;
For many things are apt to slip
Between the Goblet and the Lip.
Come, give's your Hand, now nothing ails you,
Let's go before your Courage fails you.
Don't talk so much, but do what's fitting,
The Proof o'th' Pudding's in the eating.
Husband.
To Bed, come on, for I'm as free
And forward as yourself can be:
There's not one Part of me, I'll swear,
But gladly wishes I was there;
To be between the Sheets, I vow,
Is all I want, I'm ready now,
And in as kind and good a plight
For Love, as on my Wedding-night.
And forward as yourself can be:
There's not one Part of me, I'll swear,
But gladly wishes I was there;
To be between the Sheets, I vow,
Is all I want, I'm ready now,
And in as kind and good a plight
For Love, as on my Wedding-night.
But, prithee, Honey, quench my Thirst,
With t'other chearful Bumper first,
'Twould make my Nerves so strenuous grow,
That I should kiss like any Beau,
Twine round thee, like an Eel, all Night,
And get a Boy before 'tis Light.
With t'other chearful Bumper first,
'Twould make my Nerves so strenuous grow,
That I should kiss like any Beau,
Twine round thee, like an Eel, all Night,
And get a Boy before 'tis Light.
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My Dear, your talking gives me Proof,
That you've already had enough;
Your promis'd Bravery, alas!
Proceeds from nothing but the Glass.
The flowing Cup, you took but now,
Has made you talk I know not how;
And should you drink once more as full,
You'd roar like any Parson's Bull,
And prove so gamesome, that you'd be
Too vig'rous and too brisk for me.
However, if you'll walk up Stairs,
Undress, and when you've said your Pray'rs,
Just as you step to bed, I'll give you
Another Bumper to revive you,
And then, no doubt of't, but you'll prove,
A perfect Hercules in Love,
And do such mighty am'rous Feats,
Ne'er done before between the Sheets
Husband.
A Match, my Dear, let's go this Minute,
And hug and kiss till this day Sennight,
For I can feel I am already
A fit Gallant for any Lady;
And t'other Glass, upon my Word,
Will make me smuggl'ye like a Lord.
Remember your Agreement, pray,
A Bumper after Pray'rs, you say,
68
Ah! Child, 'twill be a glorious Cup,
'Twill make me sleep so purely a'ter,
That I shall need no Poppy-Water.
Wife.
Come on, my Dear, I find already,
The Wine has made you walk unsteady;
The Weakness of your Hams discover
You are a trusty strenuous Lover,
I doubt your tott'ring and your stumbling,
Presages only downright Fumbling.
I'll keep my Word to you, my Dear,
But you'll be worse than yours, I fear.
[Aside.]
The Wine has made you walk unsteady;
The Weakness of your Hams discover
You are a trusty strenuous Lover,
I doubt your tott'ring and your stumbling,
Presages only downright Fumbling.
I'll keep my Word to you, my Dear,
But you'll be worse than yours, I fear.
Liquor will flatter Age, I find,
And make 'em dream of being kind:
But when they come to try their Pow'r,
They only fumble by the Hour;
And tho' they fancy that they please us,
Their cool Attempts are but ro teaze us:
However, she that's doom'd to wed
An old dry Chip, to warm his Bed,
Or has the rigid Fate to chuse
A Fool or Mad-man for her Spouse,
When join'd, 'tis better to obey,
And humour Folly or Decay,
Than rudely thwart them and despise
Their unforeseen Infirmities.
And make 'em dream of being kind:
But when they come to try their Pow'r,
They only fumble by the Hour;
And tho' they fancy that they please us,
Their cool Attempts are but ro teaze us:
However, she that's doom'd to wed
An old dry Chip, to warm his Bed,
Or has the rigid Fate to chuse
A Fool or Mad-man for her Spouse,
When join'd, 'tis better to obey,
And humour Folly or Decay,
Than rudely thwart them and despise
Their unforeseen Infirmities.
| Nuptial Dialogues and Debates | |