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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| IX. | DIALOGUE IX. Between an old amorous Knight, and a young Strumpet he was drawn in to
marry, just come out of Yorkshire, to take a view of the Town.
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 | Nuptial Dialogues and Debates |  |
DIALOGUE IX. Between an old amorous Knight, and a young Strumpet he was drawn in to marry, just come out of Yorkshire, to take a view of the Town.
Husband.Well, now, my Dear, I think we've spent
A Week in Love and Merriment;
In a few Days we'll e'en set forward
Our tedious Journey to the Norward,
To view your Lands, and take Possession
Of your Estate and Habitation;
And if I find the Place is airy
And healthful, we'll resolve to tarry.
New furbish up the ancient Hall,
And settle there for good and all:
104
And a rare spacious Green for Bowling,
Hare, Partridge, every sort of Game
About your Grounds, that I can name:
By your Account, it needs must be
A Seat of wond'rous Pleasantry.
One thing indeed I can't approve,
But that I eas'ly can remove,
Which is the Rook'ry that's about it,
I own I'd rather be without it,
I hate their hoarse ill-boding Voice,
And cannot bear their croaking Noise,
But wake when they begin to chatter,
And yawn and stretch the whole Day a'ter.
Lady.
If nothing but the Rooks displease ye,
They're soon destroy'd, to make you easy.
I wish, my Dear, that you way find
The House and Gardens suit your Mind;
And that its lonely Situation
May justly claim your Approbation:
But, truly, I am apt to fear,
When you see how it is, and where,
You'll think your Quality too great
For such a Mansion and Estate,
Because it has been farm'd by two
Or three of meaner Rank than you:
I therefore fear you'll not consent,
T'inhabit such a Tenement,
105
Of me, that am the rightful Owner,
Been occupy'd for little Rent,
By Persons of a low Descent.
Husband.
Dear Madam, my intire Affection
For you, will conquer that Objection;
I shan't despise your Mansion-house,
'Cause farm'd by Roger and Joan Douse:
It is enough for me to love it,
That you were born there and approve it;
We must not with Contempt, look down
On Earth, 'cause trodden by the Clown;
Frown on the fruitful Vale or Plain,
Because frequented by the Swain;
Or scorn the rich and dirty Field,
That's by the sweaty Peasant till'd;
No, no, if I but like the Seat,
And find it for our Dwelling fit,
I shall not scruple or complain on't,
Because a Clown has been the Tenant;
To me, that shall not make it odious,
In case I find it but commodious.
Perhaps it may be old and tatter'd,
With stormy Winds and Weather batter'd,
The Stable-Yards been us'd to hold
Dung-heaps, which Farmers call their Gold,
Yet all such Filth may be remov'd,
And the House furbish'd and improv'd,
106
Though I must own 'twill be a Charge;
But shall not value what I spend,
To such a satisfact'ry End,
If all will but oblige my Dear,
And make her easy when she's there;
For who that's blest with such a Creature,
So kind, so young, so fair of Feature,
Would not do any thing to shew
His Love to such a Bride as you.
Lady.
You're very kind, I must allow,
Would you be always as you're now,
But Time will change your Inclination,
And make, I fear, much Alteration;
For Beauty, once a Lover's own,
Becomes insipid when she's known,
And all her soft obliging Charms
Grow stale and rancid in his Arms:
I fear your Love, that seems so great,
Is not for me, but my Estate;
Fat Acres and full Bags engage
The most, in this ungen'rous Age;
And she that has them in her Pow'r,
May have new Courtiers ev'ry Hour:
So he that's Rich, and can defend
Himself, shall never want a Friend;
But if Misfortunes bring him low,
His Friends will be no longer so.
107
And my Descent obscure and mean,
Yet made the very self-same Figure,
In Dress, in Beauty, Youth, and Vigour,
I fancy then you'd scarce have thought me
Worthy o'th' Bed to which you've brought me;
For had your Bride had no Command
Of mouldy Bags and dirty Land,
For all her Charms you'd not have lik'd her,
'Twas the gilt Frame set off the Picture.
So when the Croud behold the State
And pompous Grandeur of the Great,
'Tis not their Persons that they mind,
But the long Train that come behind;
Thus think our Quality's Transcendence,
Is not in them, but their Attendance.
Husband.
But for your Charms, my Dear, I love you,
Your Beauty made me first approve you;
Twas not your Riches, but your Face,
Your Acres, but each charming Grace,
That did alone my Soul bewitch,
And rais'd my Flame to such a pitch;
I'm no such Muckworm in my Nature,
To prefer Wealth to such a Creature;
I vow I did not doat upon ye,
For your black Furlongs, or your Money;
The Gifts that dwell in ev'ry Part
Enchanted my admiring Heart:
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And those dear Favours you have granted:
Had you been Fortuneless, my Flame,
I'm certain, must have been the same;
I'd still paid Homage to your Beauty;
Nor could I have been blest without ye:
Such lovely Charms as you possess,
Are of themselves a Happiness:
Such Eyes no other Fortune need,
Those Looks the brightest Gold exceed,
But since your Stars, their Love to shew,
Have giv'n you Health and Beauty too,
And I am made, by your kind Choice,
The Partner of such double Joys,
Riches with Beauty, I agree,
Still heightens the Felicity;
Tho' had you not a Groat, I own
I had been blest in you alone;
For Love, like Madness, many grant,
Ne'er feels the Smart of Cold or Want,
But will, if Just, the noble Flame,
Like Gold refin'd, be still the same.
Lady.
Then you are sure you shou'd have lov'd,
In case I had no Heiress prov'd,
And that alone my Person won ye,
And not my Acres or my Money;
I must confess, could I be certain
You lov'd my Charms above my Fortune,
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Would give me wond'rous Satisfaction;
For I am apt to think, most Men
That marry, have an Eye on Gain,
And that, among your Sex, 'tis common
T'admire the Bags above the Woman.
'Tis therefore difficult for me,
To think your Generosity
So great, to've taken to your Arms
A Country Damsel for her Charms,
Had you not been assur'd before,
She'd a large Fortune in her Pow'r;
For Beauty, without Bags we find,
You men of Wisdom seldom mind,
When Gold will make the dowdy Lass,
Without the least Objection, pass.
Husband.
I vow and swear, my only Dear,
Those Charms that in your Looks appear;
Your pleasant Air, your modest Mein,
Your Prudence in each Action seen,
Your Conversation, that's so witty,
Your ev'ry thing so sweet and pretty,
Are Blessings that engage my Heart,
Your Fortune is the meanest part;
I scarce have spent one Thought about it,
I have enough, my Dear, without it,
And should have lov'd you, tho' you'd been
Unhappy, Fortuneless, and Mean,
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My Bride, my only Dear, my Lady.
Lady.
I'm highly happy, that I find
Your Heart so generously kind,
And that your Love would be as great,
If I'd no Portion or Estate.
Husband.
All one, my Jewel, I profess
Nothing could make me love you less.
My faithful Passion is not founded
Upon your Wealth, but nobly grounded,
And will be lasting, you shall see,
In spite of all Adversity.
No sullen Clouds, that can arise,
Shall darken or eclipse our Joys:
My Love its nuptial Course shall run,
And prove as constant as the Sun;
Be lasting, just, and always free
From cold Neglect and Jealousy.
Lady.
You promise very fair, my Dear,
Yet I, alas! am apt to fear,
If my Estate should chance to prove
A Shadow, 'twould subvert your Love,
And make my Dearest look awry
Upon me with an evil Eye;
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Affection oft into Revenge.
So he that weds, and thinks he marries,
A mighty Fortune, and miscarries,
He does his Bride, tho' fair, despise,
Because no wealthy Bags arise.
Husband.
But this no Parallel can be
To th'present Case 'twixt you and me.
I know your Fortune's out of Doubt;
Your Lands admit of no Dispute:
I have no Reason to distrust
Your Title, for I'm sure 'tis just;
Have all the Deeds that bear Relation
To your Estate, in my Possession;
But were your Charms without that Worth
Your Writings plainly do set forth,
Yet still, my dearest Duck, my Lamb,
I'd be as loving as I am;
Your Beauty would alone prevail
With me, in case your Lands should fail:
But I'm well satisfy'd no harm
Can lurk in such a heav'nly Form;
Your Angel's Face convinces me
You are what you pretend to be;
But should your Wealth a Fiction prove,
Your Charms would still preserve my Love.
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I'm glad to hear it; for I vow
All that I'm worth's about me now:
Give me, my Dear, one kind Embrace,
And you my whole Estate possess.
With folded Arms you may, God knows,
My Lands and Tenements inclose:
I have no Bags of hoarded Gold;
No Sums of tarnish'd Coin untold;
No fruitful Grounds to please your Sight,
But what you plough'd the nuptial Night;
No Mansion-house, or Farm beside,
But you've already occupy'd;
No costly Garden for your Pleasure,
But what your self may sow at leisure:
I have no Wealth but what you see;
You have my whole Estate in me.
Husband.
I'll swear you are a merry Lady,
You banter well, whoever bred ye;
I find you only want to try
My Temper and Sincerity,
And whether that my Love's as true,
As I've aver'd it is to you.
You may jest on, but still shall find
Your Frolick cannot change my Mind:
I have too great a Passion for ye,
Than to give Ear to such a Story:
113
And try me farther, if you please,
But all your Wit won't damp my Flame;
You'll ever find my Love the same.
Lady.
I'm glad with all my Heart, to hear
Your Kindness is so great, my Dear,
That whatsoe'er I chance to prove,
'Twill no Ways disoblige your Love:
But really I'd not have you flatter
Your self with what's to come herea'ter;
For here's my All, and, to be plain,
Your farther Hopes are but in vain.
The whole of my poor narrow Fortune,
Will lie within the nuptial Curtain;
You've had it all, I do protest,
Between the Sheets, and you know best
The Worth of what you have possest.
Your Kindness is so great, my Dear,
That whatsoe'er I chance to prove,
'Twill no Ways disoblige your Love:
But really I'd not have you flatter
Your self with what's to come herea'ter;
For here's my All, and, to be plain,
Your farther Hopes are but in vain.
The whole of my poor narrow Fortune,
Will lie within the nuptial Curtain;
You've had it all, I do protest,
Between the Sheets, and you know best
The Worth of what you have possest.
Believe me, Sir; for, by my Life,
You've nothing with me, but a Wife;
I'm therefore glad to hear my Charms
Alone have won you to my Arms,
And that your Love will still be steady,
Tho' disappointed by your Lady.
Beauty alone deserves the Favour,
And true Esteem of those that have her:
She's a sweet Blessing of her self,
Tho' she can boast no Bags of Pelf;
That's a small Fault, a Man of Honour
Will scorn to look the worse upon her.
You've nothing with me, but a Wife;
I'm therefore glad to hear my Charms
Alone have won you to my Arms,
And that your Love will still be steady,
Tho' disappointed by your Lady.
Beauty alone deserves the Favour,
And true Esteem of those that have her:
She's a sweet Blessing of her self,
Tho' she can boast no Bags of Pelf;
114
Will scorn to look the worse upon her.
Husband.
How can your Tongue such Stories tell?
I'll swear you humour't mighty well.
You do't as prettily, my Dear,
As if bred up in Theatre,
Enough to make my Hopes give Way,
And my self credit what you say;
But that, alas! I know you better,
And am assur'd you're no such Creature.
You may jest on, but you forget
I've got the Deeds of your Estate;
I've all your Writings, I am safe,
Your Banter only makes me laugh.
Besides, I've had, from sev'ral Hands,
A good Account of all your Lands;
Know every Tittle of your Fortune,
What's doubtful, and what's truly certain;
To think what pretty Tales you make,
What Wit you shew, what Pains you take
To try your Husband and your Lover,
In hopes to cunningly discover
Which is most welcome to his Arms,
Your Fortune, or your youthful Charms;
But I assure you, still the latter
Is the dear Blessing I sought a'ter;
Tho' a good Dowry, I confess,
Adds something to the Happiness,
115
The more secure from Poverty.
Lady.
Dream as you please of Golden Joys,
And think you've made a wealthy Choice;
But, as I live, at last you'll find
Your Hopes all vanish into Wind;
For all those Writings you have seen,
Were only forg'd to draw you in;
And, in Reality, relate
To nothing but a feign'd Estate;
Fat Acres floating in the Air,
And mighty Sums, the Lord knows where;
A Mansion lin'd with costly Goods,
Built only in the misty Clouds;
Rich Farms and Tenements that lie
In remote Corners of the Sky,
So far behind the Light, I doubt,
Flamstead himself can't find 'em out:
And this, by all the Charms of Youth
And Beauty, I aver for Truth;
I therefore beg you'll not deceive
Your self, but what I say, believe,
And not depend on idle Fancies,
For all my Writings are Romances,
Contriv'd by cunning Heads to gain me
A Husband, able to maintain me;
And since 'twas your unhappy Lot
To be the Gudgeon to be caught,
116
For if my Person will not please ye,
I have no Lands to mend the Matter,
Nor Bags to make your Bargain better.
This is the Case most truly stated,
And ev'ry Tittle I've related,
Is Truth, I swear, upon my Knees,
So now deal with me as you please.
Husband.
I am amaz'd! And can there be
So beautiful a Snake as thee?
O! Jilt, am I at last out-witted,
Betray'd, impos'd upon, and cheated;
Tempted to take a wicked, frail,
Alluring Serpent by the Tail;
And hug the Vermin that has bit
The loving Hand that cherish'd it?
How could your list'ning treach'rous Ear.
My Love, with seeming Pleasure, hear;
And your base Tongue conceal the while
The Drift of all your crafty Guile?
Had you had Gratitude or Honour,
You'd told me your Condition sooner,
And made me sensible before
Our Marriage, of your windy Dow'r,
And not have put this Trick upon me.
Why, Hussy, you have quite undone me:
My Estate's mortgag'd, I aver it,
And with your Fortune hop'd to clear it;
117
By wedding such a Female Curse,
That has more Coney-skin than Purse:
Nor are your self, you wicked Creature,
By your Deceit, a Jot the Better.
Lady.
Yes, I'm a Lady, by your Favour;
That's something I have gain'd however;
But had I been what you suppos'd,
I find I had been finely noos'd
To an old surfeited Debauch,
A beggar'd Knight without a Coach;
A Fumbler with a dipt Estate!
I vow and swear a hopeful Mate
For a rich Heiress full of Charms,
To chuse into her youthful Arms.
No: had I been that happy She,
Your Worship took me first to be,
You should have been no Match for me.
That's something I have gain'd however;
But had I been what you suppos'd,
I find I had been finely noos'd
To an old surfeited Debauch,
A beggar'd Knight without a Coach;
A Fumbler with a dipt Estate!
I vow and swear a hopeful Mate
For a rich Heiress full of Charms,
To chuse into her youthful Arms.
No: had I been that happy She,
Your Worship took me first to be,
You should have been no Match for me.
But where's your mighty Love, my Dear?
Your am'rous Passion cools, I fear;
Your everlasting Kindness now
Seems wither'd like a Winter's Bough.
One sudden unexpected Puff
Has blown your Flame into a Snuff,
Extinguish'd that robust Desire,
And caus'd that never-cooling Fire,
That whiz'd of late like mounting Rocket,
To burn like Candle in the Socket.
Your am'rous Passion cools, I fear;
Your everlasting Kindness now
Seems wither'd like a Winter's Bough.
One sudden unexpected Puff
Has blown your Flame into a Snuff,
Extinguish'd that robust Desire,
And caus'd that never-cooling Fire,
That whiz'd of late like mounting Rocket,
To burn like Candle in the Socket.
118
Fly from me, Jezabel, to ease me,
And now you've chous'd me, do not tease me.
What mortal Man can love a Jade,
A Jilt, by whom he's thus betray'd;
A German Princess, and, no Doubt,
A Slut, an arrand Whore to boot,
Whose lustful mercenary Tail is
The cast-off Curse of Pimps and Baylies?
And I, forsooth, must prove the Fool,
Mark'd out to honour such a Trull;
And tho' you've been debas'd already
By hundreds, must be call'd my Lady!
And now you've chous'd me, do not tease me.
What mortal Man can love a Jade,
A Jilt, by whom he's thus betray'd;
A German Princess, and, no Doubt,
A Slut, an arrand Whore to boot,
Whose lustful mercenary Tail is
The cast-off Curse of Pimps and Baylies?
And I, forsooth, must prove the Fool,
Mark'd out to honour such a Trull;
And tho' you've been debas'd already
By hundreds, must be call'd my Lady!
You Strumpet, get you from my Sight,
I hate you, as an Owl the Light.
You teasing, prating Spawn of Evil;
You cunning, pretty Toad; you Devil;
You cheating Minx, I'll never own ye;
I'll have no Wife that has no Money.
You're some Bawd's Daughter, or as bad;
Huzzy, you've made me raving mad;
More frantick than a dancing Bear;
My Reason's flown I know not where.
Get thee, I say, from out my Reach,
Or I shall scratch thee for a Witch:
I'm by your Sorcery enchanted,
Hag-ridden, plagu'd, tormented, haunted;
And shall, unless you fly the Place,
Spit Pins and Needles in thy Face.
I hate you, as an Owl the Light.
You teasing, prating Spawn of Evil;
You cunning, pretty Toad; you Devil;
You cheating Minx, I'll never own ye;
I'll have no Wife that has no Money.
You're some Bawd's Daughter, or as bad;
Huzzy, you've made me raving mad;
More frantick than a dancing Bear;
My Reason's flown I know not where.
Get thee, I say, from out my Reach,
Or I shall scratch thee for a Witch:
I'm by your Sorcery enchanted,
Hag-ridden, plagu'd, tormented, haunted;
And shall, unless you fly the Place,
Spit Pins and Needles in thy Face.
119
Well said, my Dear, I'm now assur'd
You've a great Value for your Word,
And that my Beauty was the Bait
That tempted more than my Estate.
O! what a Passion you have for me!
How much you love me, and adore me!
Tho' disappointed of the Rents
Of my fat Lands and Tenements,
And find my Fortune is so small,
That your own Hand may cover't all,
Yet, how your am'rous Flame continues
To chear your Heart and warm your Sinews!
What due Respect! how much good Nature
You shew to your dear charming Creature!
Your pretty Phubs, your Duck, your Jewel,
Whose pow'rful Charms, had she been cruel,
Had kill'd you with their Darts out-right,
And martyr'd her enamour'd Knight.
poor Gentleman! had I not lov'd,
How fatal must my Scorn have prov'd?
But what coy Dame could take upon her
To slight so brave a Man of Honour,
And with a cross disdainful Frown,
Doom him to stab, to hang, or drown,
When his pure Love was so refin'd,
His Tongue so true, his Heart so kind,
That he despis'd ignoble Dross,
And valu'd nothing but the Lass,
120
And something else above the Shoe-tie?
Husband.
O! Impudence, to thus upbraid me,
When your vile Cunning has betray'd me.
What wanton Sorc'ress have I wedded?
What Beggar hugg'd? What Strumpet bedded?
Some Shoplift, full of Tricks and Wiles,
Perhaps bred up in sweet St. Giles;
Or some expert Town-trading Quane,
Begot and nurs'd in Water-Lane,
Who has, for Years, along the Side
Of Holbourn-Ditch, and Fleet-street ply'd;
I'll swear a very hopeful Bride!
A modest pretty Lady, truly,
Kick'd from the Arms of some Town-bully,
Just piping-hot, perhaps from Stews,
As fine a Match as Man would chuse!
What a sweet Bargain have I got,
And may be pox'd, as like as not?
O! thou confounded common Witch,
If 'twan't for Shame, I'd call you B---.
Must I by your lewd Tail, be brought
To Flannel-Shirt, and Spitting-Pot?
Be gone, I say, or I shall thumb
Your Trollilols, and foot your Bum:
Bid my Man turn you out of Door;
And, Slut, if e're you own me more,
I'll cry aloud, a Whore, a Whore.
121
Indeed, Sir Samuel, if you do,
I'll cry out Cuckold, Cuckold too.
However, since your Spleen's so high,
I'll quit your Room till by and by,
And give your Passion time to cool,
That Reason may again bear Rule.
I'll cry out Cuckold, Cuckold too.
However, since your Spleen's so high,
I'll quit your Room till by and by,
And give your Passion time to cool,
That Reason may again bear Rule.
But still remember I'm your Wife,
And must and will be so for Life;
For Law can do no less than right her,
Wh'as done no more than bit the Biter.
And must and will be so for Life;
For Law can do no less than right her,
Wh'as done no more than bit the Biter.
| Nuptial Dialogues and Debates | |