 | Riches : Or, The Wife And Brother |  |
101
EPILOGUE. Written by S. J. Arnold, Esq. AND SPOKEN BY Mrs. Edwin.
Cur'd of my folly as a scolding wife,
Sir John, at last, shall lead a quiet life!
Ye henpeck'd husbands!—Ah! I greatly fear,
That many of that gentle class are here!
Attend awhile—a wife reform'd shall school ye,
And shew why wives rebel—how women rule ye!
Sir John, at last, shall lead a quiet life!
Ye henpeck'd husbands!—Ah! I greatly fear,
That many of that gentle class are here!
Attend awhile—a wife reform'd shall school ye,
And shew why wives rebel—how women rule ye!
When first, in artful blandishment array'd,
You court with smiles and pray'rs th' unguarded maid,
How full of wit each word—of charms each feature—
She's angel—goddess then!—celestial creature!
While she—poor silly maid, takes all forsooth!
What female heart can doubt such charming truth?
The wedding o'er, how soon these high notes fall!
This angel proves mere woman after all!
The great discovery made, how chang'd the tone!
The husband cold—the wife indifferent grown.
'Stead of, “My dear—my love—my treasur'd prize,”
“Damme my dear!” and “zounds my love,” he cries!
While she soon grown by disappointment cold,
Replies,—resents, and ends a downright scold!
You court with smiles and pray'rs th' unguarded maid,
How full of wit each word—of charms each feature—
She's angel—goddess then!—celestial creature!
While she—poor silly maid, takes all forsooth!
What female heart can doubt such charming truth?
The wedding o'er, how soon these high notes fall!
This angel proves mere woman after all!
The great discovery made, how chang'd the tone!
The husband cold—the wife indifferent grown.
'Stead of, “My dear—my love—my treasur'd prize,”
“Damme my dear!” and “zounds my love,” he cries!
While she soon grown by disappointment cold,
Replies,—resents, and ends a downright scold!
Now comes her triumph! for you'll all allow
When women choose to rule—we all know how!
For where's the man who dares, or old or young
To take the field against a woman's tongue?
When women choose to rule—we all know how!
For where's the man who dares, or old or young
To take the field against a woman's tongue?
Yonder I see a lady by the bye,
She with sharp nose, and little scolding eye;
—And—or his looks have very much belied her,
Her cara sposa there, sits close beside her!
—That round—fat gentleman who looks so blue—
You needn't hide your face—I don't mean you!
Now, as I take it, this harmonious pair,
Can prove what man and wife in general are!
Married for love in youth's impetuous hour,
They dream'd of endless joy in Hymen's bow'r:
But long before the honeymoon was o'er,
A quarrel rose, which lasted—evermore!
“My love,” said he one evening, “I don't choose,
“That you should wear—my dearest—so much rouge!”
“Not rouge!” cried she in agony, “I vow
“My love—that's quite provoking now!”
Tears 'gan to fall, and with the rouge to mingle—
“You ne'er found fault with rouge when I were single!”
—“Zounds, ma'am!”—“You brute, wou'd I had longer tarried!”
—“S'death, ma'am, you never roug'd before we married!”
She with sharp nose, and little scolding eye;
—And—or his looks have very much belied her,
Her cara sposa there, sits close beside her!
—That round—fat gentleman who looks so blue—
You needn't hide your face—I don't mean you!
102
Can prove what man and wife in general are!
Married for love in youth's impetuous hour,
They dream'd of endless joy in Hymen's bow'r:
But long before the honeymoon was o'er,
A quarrel rose, which lasted—evermore!
“My love,” said he one evening, “I don't choose,
“That you should wear—my dearest—so much rouge!”
“Not rouge!” cried she in agony, “I vow
“My love—that's quite provoking now!”
Tears 'gan to fall, and with the rouge to mingle—
“You ne'er found fault with rouge when I were single!”
—“Zounds, ma'am!”—“You brute, wou'd I had longer tarried!”
—“S'death, ma'am, you never roug'd before we married!”
In short, ye men! before ye wed, forbear
Of everlasting truth and love to swear;
But married—fan with care the nuptial flame,
Nor think that bear and husband, mean the same!
Win us by love—if that won't do alone,
Die! like Sir John—and then the day's your own!
Of everlasting truth and love to swear;
But married—fan with care the nuptial flame,
Nor think that bear and husband, mean the same!
Win us by love—if that won't do alone,
Die! like Sir John—and then the day's your own!
Ladies! a word to you, and then I've done;
A word to tell you what you ought to shun.
Shun contradiction—worst of all disasters—
You should be mistresses—but not be masters!
Win by affection—by persuasion rule:
Thus gain your end!—and so I shut up school.
A word to tell you what you ought to shun.
Shun contradiction—worst of all disasters—
You should be mistresses—but not be masters!
Win by affection—by persuasion rule:
Thus gain your end!—and so I shut up school.
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