The Fifteen COMFORTS OF Rash and Inconsiderate MARRIAGE. OR, Select Animadversions UPON THE MISCARRIAGES OF A WEDDED STATE. Done out of French.  
The Fourth Edition, with the Addition of three Comforts.  
LONDON, Printed for William Crook, and Matth. Gillyflower, 1694.   

TO THE READER.  
IT is an Old Saying, That every thing grows worse and worse, which the Venusian Poet seems to confirm in these following words, ●uch to the same purpose, 
Aetas Parentum, pejor Avis, tulit  
Nos Nequiores, mox daturos  
Progeniem Vitiosiorem.   
Notwithstanding whose Autho●…ty, and the pretended Antiquity ●ereof, I'll be bold to affirm, that ●is Adage in the Vulgar and mi●ken Application thereof, car●…s neither Sense nor Reason with 〈◊〉 having no other Basis to support it, but Malice, Ignorance, or both; and tho' this Treatise should not absolutely prove the contrary, it will at least shake, if not totally explode● that common Opinion, viz. That Woman is the worst piece of the Hexameron Creation, and consequently, according to the Masculine tho' in truth, merely Sophistica Logic of this Modern Age, become (the more the pity) the Subject of all the Raillery, or (in down right English) Railing against tha● harmless and innocent Sex; and question not but by this Discourse all Dissenters will be of my Opinion, that if ever Virtue did appea● and shine with Glory, Splendour and its own Native and Charming Beauty in any created Substance it is most visible and constant in th● Female, I must ingenuously confe●… that I have a particular Inclination to, and Deference for that Sex, hol●…ing myself obliged to vindica● them from those Calumnies wherewith they have been so foully and causelessly aspersed by Ancient, as well as Modern Authors; nor am I to blame for deserting my own Cause, to justify what may seem against myself, and espouse the Equitable Condition and defence of the contrary, and so much injured Party. This is the Composition of some Amorous Person, who animated with the same Spirit and Affection as I am, hath undertaken (and judged it his Duty too) to satisfy you, and (he hopes) so far as to work upon you a Persuasion that the Modesty, Bashfulness, De●onaireté, and Civility, together with all Qualifications that adorn and beautify the Soul, are as Exemplarily eminent in Women of this Age, as ever they were in any of the former; and instruct you to set a value on their Actions, as the ●est Creatures in the worst of Times, whose Virtue must need shine with the greater Lustre, being subject to the vain Assaults and Ineffectual Temptations o● Men, grown old (like the Times in Wickedness, Malice and Revenge.  
Farewe●…   

THE PREFACE.  
THE Philosophers and Sages of former Times, as well as those of a later Date, have spent Operam & Oleum, exhausted their spirit's, and wasted their Bodies, till at last, 〈◊〉 their Indefatigable Pains and Industry, ●…ey crumbled into dust, and all to inculate this Doctrine, grounded upon solid Reason; that it is certainly a greater Happiness for a Man to enjoy Freedom ●ncontroul'd, than to enslave himself for ●ver without Compulsion. He must of necessity forfeit his Reason, that is of a con●…ary Opinion; for as a Modern Poet ●ings truly; 
Surely their Heads unpeopled are with Brains,  
That hug their Fetters, and embrace their Chains.   
That man is unquestionably senseless, ●ho enjoys his Freedom in the Vigour and Sprightliness of his youth, living in the ●ream of wealth and the high Tide of Pleasure and Delight, is caressed by Fortune, laden with Favours, and almost cloyed with Comforts; a Person that may cry Sciolto to his Passions, give them the lose Rein, gratify his Appetite and Gust, with whatsoever three of the four Elements can furnish him; and yet this Person, notwithstanding all these Advantages, throws himself into an Abyss of misery, confines himself to a Person (a Wife) whose best Qualification is Peevishness, forfeits his Freedom, Reason, Content, and Satisfaction, and loseth his own, to enslave himself to the Humour of another; and this too for Life, for whom the Art and Wit of the Pregnant and Subtle can never procure a Ransom in order to Redemption. Would not any rational Creature judge him guilty of Statute-madness, who being shown the Loathsomeness and Horror of a Dungeon, views the maugre and ghost-like Aspect of the famished Prisoner, hears the hideous Shrieks and Groans of shackled Malefactors, the rattling noise of whose heavy Irons is a Harmony only fit to drive a serious Man out of his Wits; would not, I say, any Person gifted with Reason, look upon him to be mad beyond the Cure of Drugs or Medicines, who shall nevertheless shake hands with his Liberty, and the unaccountable delights that attend it, and cast himself into a Goal, with a resolution never to be discharged, but to lie there and perish? The very Brutes, tho' never so stupid, or wild, value their Roaming Liberty at the highest Rate: hazarding, nay, losing their Life, which is their All, their whole Being, their little Eternity (pardon the Expression,) to preserve their Freedom; and shall Man, the perfection of the Creation, endowed with a rational Soul, inspired by the Deity, come short of Inanimate Power. Inconsiderable Animals, in a business of such weight and concernment, upon which the Contentation, and in truth, Felicity of Human Life doth consist? Dii avertant.  
Consider farther to confirm this argument the Desire and Love of Freedom and Liberty, is so innate in all Persons, that not only Man, but Woman, the weaker Sex, nay, Children, a weaker part of the weaker Sex, have hazarded, nay, lost Wealth, Fortune, and Life, rather than part with so precious a Jewel. The sad Catastrophes of Persons and Kingdoms, the horrid Massacres and Murders, the Torments, Plagues, Battles, Quarrels and Discontents between Nations and Parties, the Depopulation of Republics, the Demolishing of Kingdoms, the Extirpating of Princes, the Assassinating Kings, Emperors (a Curse on the Disciples of Lame Loyola for that King-killing Tenet) nay, most of the Barbarous Tragedies that have been acted upon the bloody Stage of this World, have had no other source than the natural Desire and Affection of Liberty (how justly I dispute not) and Property, the Darling Twins of Mankind, ever since the first Prevarication.  
The wild Beasts of the desert are ensnared and taken in Pitfalls by the Craft and Cunning of the wary Huntsman, who with Artifice contrives them so, that they are narrow at Top, and broad at the Bottom, from whence there is no possibility of Escape, but they must continue a Prey to the over-wily Man that made the Sn●re, and so the Brute loseth the Liberty which kind Nature conferred upon him, and unkind Man Craftily deprives him of. The same thing may he said of those that are married, when they are once enchained and fettered with the Bands of Matrimony, a sad state (as it often falls out, if they once fall into it) from whence there is no Redemption. The silly, mute fish, after the same manner, labours with divers turn to wind itself into the Net, Baited thereunto, till at last she loseth her Life and Liberty. This Net in truth is the Net of Matrimony, and the Youthful Precipitate, Heedless Hotspurs of this Age, whose Chins are searce covered with tender Down, are the Fishes without the Net, who fancy to themselves, that they may  and Swim in a Calm and undisturbed stream of Pleasure, and at last launch out into a Torrent, or rather Sea of misery, encompassed with nothing but Storms and Tempests to their contimial disturbance and vexation, having lost themselves in an enclosure, that they can neither break through, nor leap over, but there live discontentedly, languish painfully, till they dwindle away to nothing, and so at last Die miserable. It is a saying of the Learned Scaliger, that a Wife is an Hectic Fever, never to be cured by any thing hut Death, nor can any wise Man deny it.  
The report is current of a famous Physician, Valere by Name, who being asked by one of his Friends, (that had the misfortune to be catched in the Noose of Wedlock,) whether he had done well in changing his condition of single Life, returned him this bitter, tho' true Answer; Friend (said he) could you not find out some Precipice to cast yourself headlong from thence into the Sea? intimating thereby, that be had made a better Election, had he gained some high Rock, and precipitated himself into the Fathomless Ocean, there to consummate at once all his Miseries, rather than involve himself in a Turbulent Sea, the distractions, discontents and Vexations of a Wedded State, never to be redressed; a Malady that bids defiance to the power of any Drug or Doctor, how famous or exquisite soever.  
Great and inexpressible was the Regret and sorrow of the  of Tours in France, who being so infatuated (shall I say) or fascinated, as to forsake the Happy, and Religious Life of a Clerk, with all its appendent Privileges, married the Reversion of another, (a Widow) and foolishly fell into a Quagmire, wherein one had been drowned before him; with whom being linked by the Indissoluble and Gordian-Knot of Marriage, he led a tedious life, or to speak more properly, endured a Vassa●…ge almost insupportable; for which be sang a mournful Ditty, to the Tune of— Fortune my Foe, why hast thou married me, and chanted a Cordial Palinode, reserving to himself only this Comfort, that he had some hope by his own Miscarriage, to forwarn others from the like Inadvertency and Rashness, and to that purpose composed several Learned Treatises, to dehort all Men from such unadvised Erterprises and Attempts. Nor is he singular herein; for many persons of great Parts, and known Abilities, have endeavoured to discover the Servitude, and more than Egyptian Bondage of a Coupled Condition; and in my Judgement, to be Free without Censoriousness, the Eighteen Comforts of Matrimony herein fully displayed, and clearly laid open, are the greatest Misfortunes, Pains, Discontents, and Torments that can enter into the Thoughts of Man. Yet for all that is prementioned, I do not blame the State of Matrimony (as now instituted by the Church) for beyond all dispute, Marriage is an Ecclesiastical and Religious Tie, a Boundary to Extravagancy, giving a Check to the exorbitant passions of the wild and  Youth of both Sexes, and confining them to one person, which is but Just and Lawful, and not permit them, like brutes to range about in Common, or the Sect of Nicolaitans, who differed little from Beasts in that Profane and Dissolute Tenet of theirs, Community of Women; nor do I find fault with those that marry; I am of their Opinion, and say they do well; for we sojourn in this World to endure and suffer Afflictions, to allay the height of our Pride, and give a Check to all Eccentrick and Irregular Passions, that after the miseries of this Life, we may thereby be prepared and fitted for a happy and blessed Estate hereafter. And indeed I do not think that a Man can by the Compass of this Life sail into a deeper Ocean of Misery and Affliction, considering the inevitable Grievousness and indispensible continuance of a Married Life (I mean only such as rashly and unadvisedly without due consideration of the Temper and Constitution of one another meet and marry, the want of which good Election and Choice renders the Wedded state so Burdensome and insupportable) which undoubtedly exceeds all the Racks and Engines of Torment that the Barbarity of Tyrants, and the malicious Wit of Man ever invented; but yet when a Husband is once inur'd and accustomed to the Domestic Jars of a double Life, and like the Ass, bears the burden patiently, which custom hath made so Tolerable, that he prides himself in his fondness, patience, and long suffeirng; of this, in fine, there may be made a good Application, or at least be may make a virtue of necessity: for that is but a Foppish and vain Conceit of some empty Pates, that Patience per force is a Medicine for a mad Dog, and so consequently not worth the refutation. To conclude, I have taken some Pains in composing these Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony, for the satisfaction of those who are in that State; and I am confident dare not contradict them, without they give their Wives the Lie, when they are once fast and entangled in the Net; and for prevention of others, by way of Caution, from running the same Risque, the utmost Remedy whereof is a threadbare Patience, or a whining Recantation; or if they must venture upon this Charybdis, to avoid Shipwreck in so dangerous a Condition, let them look before they leap, according to the old Proverb, and elect such a Person as may be linked in Temper and Humour, whose Souls may he united as well as their Bodies, that so their Hourglass may run to the last Sand without Interruption or Molestation, and they have a Numerous happy Issue, (the dear Pledges of a Married Life) to perpetuate their Name and Memory, that their Ashes may leave a fragrant smell to Posterity; for otherwise if they embrace this Holy Ordinance, without due and serious Consideration, (upon which moment depends their Happiness upon Earth) they deserve the Burial of an Ass, and by my consent shall drop into the Grave without either Tears or Pity.   


THE First COMFORT. Young Formality, and a Foppish Female Citt.  
YOUTH is naturally inclined to Mirth and Gallantry, with all the Briskness and Gaiety imaginable; has Limbs agile and active, fancying nothing but Music, Dancing, Balls and Plays, where the Variety of Female Objects fire the Young Sparks, in so much as Love soon breaks out, and many times to their Ruin and Destruction. In this Heat of Passion the Youngster visits Ladies, Compliments after the new mode, Caresses them with all demonstrations of fervent Affections, makes his Amours with a kind of starched Formality, which turns all into Ridicule, though possibly that set way of Courship may please the Foppish Female Cit, and gratify her Childish Humour: Thus far he proceeds with Applause and Acceptance, but this will no way satisfy the Young Gentleman, he must come to Embraces, free her from the Curse of Barrenness, and himself from the Scandal of Impotence; and now the Game gins; he is pregnant with Love and must be delivered, though the Remedy proves ten times worse than the Disease; in short he plies the business so briskly, and pursues her with that Warmth and Constancy, that she can no longer resist, but in spite of all her Maiden Modesty, must yield to his Proposals, though she perchance Sergeant a Blush at the Condescension, she being as ready to comply with him, as he to apply himself to her, and as willing to understand the Sweets of the Marriage Bed, as the Hot Youth that so vigorously pursues her. Thus in a short time the whole Business is concluded, and the Solemnity of their Matrimony performed with as much, or rather more Vanity and Expense than is consistent with the Ability of either, or both of them; but fall back, fall edge, the Knot is tied, never to be loosened, but by Death, the Priest having joined them so firmly together, that 'tis impossible to unhand them again; though probably before the Moon hath run her Menstruous Course, the Husband may appear like that Grand Luminary in her first Quarter, and she curse the Canonical Garb that fastened them in so strict a Band as that of Marriage, as will appear, and that very suddenly.  
Now you must imagine, that our Gallant minds nothing for the present, but the satiating himself with Delight, Dance, Treats, and such kind of Diversions as usually attend such ridiculous and idle Conjunctions. There appears as yet nothing but Mirth and Jollity, no Scene of Sorrow is admitted in this Comedy; his whole design is to pleave and court his Wife with ravishing Addresses, understands nothing but what she approves, nor entertains his Thoughts with any thing but the Contrivance of presenting her with Bagatels and little Toys, such as are apt to gratify the vain Humour of a foppish young Girl, drawn into the Net, and wheadled or cajoled into the Pit of Marriage: well, no matter, let them both run their own Career; these seeming Blessings, this Counterfeit Felicity, this masked Love, and vizarded Content, will prove but short-lived, and then let the troubles of the whole time after be balanced with those few suppositious and imaginary Delights they enjoyed in the Infancy of their Marriage, and the Vexations of the one will outweigh the satisfaction of the other, by so many degrees, that Arithmetic itself can never describe its true and due Proportion. Now the time of Dalliance being over, and the Cares of the World coming upon them, you shall understand a strange and unexpected Alteration, which we may call, (and I hope without Offence) the First Comfort of Matrimony.  
Now the Wife we must suppose to be well acquainted with the cunning Intrigues of a married Woman, and is not to be taught her Lesson; Feasts, Gossip and Treats, have instructed her sufficiently how to personate the subtle Wife with an Uxorious Husband, and she gins to make an essay of her Woman-Craft according to the humour of those she conversed with in the Female Cabals, usually frequented by her; and thus she gins to play her Pranks: The other day she was invited to a Regale, a very noble Treat indeed, where there was nothing wanting to gratify the Appetite; she took great notice of the Habit and Attire of several Wives of her own Rank and Quality, how richly they were accoutred, and after the newest Mode; this was so great ●n Eyesore to her, that she watched an opportunity to disclose her mind to her Husband, thinking it but reasonable that she should appear as gay and as Genteel as the best Dame in the Parish. Now you must observe by the way, that that Woman, who is once intoxicated with the Cup of Matrimony, is very strangely qualified, and differently tempered from most of her Sex, if she be not once in twenty four hours troubled with the Sullens or the Pouts (a Disease as natural to her as Gossipping, and both incurable) though counterfeit and causeless; and where think you is the Scene of her Sullenness? why, assuredly in Bed, a place where women's feigned Tears and Sighs have an excellent Faculty of persuasion; and now being brought to Bed, let us examine her Deportment, there she lies like the Statue of Niobe petrified, and for a time as senseless; whereupon the amorous Husband gins to accost her with Accolladoes and Embraces, ask her what is the matter, prithee, my Dear, (saith he) for he can forbear no longer, what ail'st thou? To whom she snappishly replies, let me alone, don't disturb me, I am very much indisposed, and have reason enough too, God knows, but you never regard what I say, 〈◊〉 or suffer, your Unkindness sticks so close● to my heart, that nothing will remove it● but Death; I'm sure I shall never rest, but in that place of undisturbed Rest (the only Dormitory of Mortals) the Grave. Dearest! saith he, you pierce my very Heart, and wound me to the Soul with such severe Language: Why, If I should acquaint you with my Disturbance, it were to no purpose; for I'm confident you would slight it, or which is as bad, think I have private self-ends or designs in it: No, no, you shall tell me, I am resolved, come what will on't: Well Sir, since you impose your Commands upon me, I will obey. You are not insensible, I'm sure, that not long since I was invited to a Collation, though I had not gone, but with your permission and approbation; yet when I was there, with great grief I speak it, I hearty wished myself at home again; for there was not one Individual Woman in the whole Company, though of the meanest Rank, but was more gaily clothed than myself; I do not speak it out of Pride, though, I think, I may say without Ostentation, that I am as well extracted, have had as good Education, have as commendable a Face, Carriage and Complexion, without the Artificial Embellishments of Paint, Patch and Powder, as the proudest she of them ●ll. As to my own particular, I solemnly protest, upon the Faith of an honest Woman, I do not value the outward Ornaments of Apparel: For the gaudiest Robes are but the Badges of our Sin and Shame: It is only for your Credit, and ●he Reputation of our Friends and Relations that I am so much concerned. Prithee how gloriously did they appear? ●ome in flowered Satin Gowns, embroidered with Gold; Petticoats adorned with ●he best Point the Venise, attired with their Hair, and their ears adorned with costly pendants, their Necks encompassed with Pearls, and the graver sort in the best three-piled Velvet; insomuch that I, appearing only in my wedding Gown, and ●hat, though nigh worn out, the best Suit 〈◊〉 my Wardrobe, could not forbear blushing all the time I was in Company; nay, ●…at which troubled me most, was, that ●ne or two of our Neighbours told me, ●…ey did admire my Husband was not a●amed to see me go in so mean a Garb. ●o which the good man replies, Sweet Heart, you know, that we have been at ●reat Charges to furnish ourselves so well as we are; that Trading decays, Losses have befallen us: I have a chargeable Suit at Law to defend next Term for the Recovery of your Portion, which will cost me many a fair Pound before I enjoy it. Ay, ay, (quoth she) I did Imagine as much, and expect no other from you, but (what I am now sensible to my Sorrow) Reproaches; and so in a Pet she flings out of his Arms with Scorn and Indignation; pray let me alone, don't come near me; and I'll assure you for the future, I'll never open my Lips to you again as long as I breath upon this acount; therefore pray rest satisfied: But hold, Love, are you angry without a cause? No, no, the contrary is too apparent; the Portion sticks in my stomach as well as yours; had you had nothing with me I am not in a Capacity to bestow any thing upon you now, my Love and Affection to you, methinks should prevent such Reflections; but you know, as mean as I was, that I was Courted by several before ever you made any Address to me, who would have been glad with all their hearts to have married me without so much as a Smock to cover my Shame, had not you interposed and gained my Heart, which now you study to plague and Torment. O unfortunate Woman ●hat I am! but I must be content with my choice, and bear all as patiently as I can; would I were as deep in the ground as I am high, and then you would be rid of me, and I of my trouble: Really Love, saith the Novice, you do not well in using of me thus, ask what you please, and you shall have it to the utmost of my Ability; but yet I must have a Care of the main Chance; prithee turn to me, my dear: for God's sake, let me be quiet; if you thought no more of fondness in this nature, than I do, you would never come near me more, I am not so Buxom, I'll assure you: Ay, but Child, saith he, in a Jocular way, if my Head were once laid, you would soon be Married again, I war●ant you; would I, (saith she) in truth, I find so little Pleasure or Comfort in a Wedded Condition, that if I were once unmarried, I would be so far from it, that ●he best he, that ever laid Leg over Woman, should never so much as touch my ●ips, as long as I have a day to live, take ●hat from me, and be satisfied. With ●his kind of Dissimulation she entertains ●he Fop, who is both in Pleasure and Pain ●t once; in Pleasure to think she is so Cold ●nd  a Wife; in Pain, because he sees her so much disturbed. Thus she Treats him all Day with a Contracted Brow, and all night with such flattering Discourses, not one good word is he worthy of, so that he is forced to beat his Brains for Money to purchase the Rich Gown and Petticoat, the want of which is the Source and Original of both their Discontents. Well! they must be had, quo jure, quaque injuria, by Hook, or by Crook, no slumher will seize upon his Eye lids, till this be procured; away he goes, susque deque, hand over head, taking up, upon Credit, Silks, Laces, Jewels, and what not, and then returns home in Triumph, with the Spoil of the Mercer's Shop, and calls down his Wife to survey the desired Purchase; which she no sooner spies, but like acunning Baggage dissembles, and says, Fie, Husband, in troth, you are now to blame, these are too Rich Vestments for a person of my Condition, they will not at all become me, I fear: beshrew the hearts of those lofty Dames, that first invented such costly Apparel; I would not give six pence for the best Gown that ever Female body was Tenant to: but however, since you have been so kind, let me beg one supernumerary favour of you not to hit me in the Teeth hereafter with it, and say, I put you to this chargeable expense: for upon my Reputation (and that is not to be valued) it was none of my intention; I desire no other Garb than what is requisite for Warmth and Decency. Now all is well, and the Man shall have his Mare again; they live lovingly and quietly till the day (O that fatal day!) of Payment; the Money cannot be procured to stop the Mouths of his Creditors, who being disappointed, use the utmost rigour of the Law against him, seize his Body and Goods, extend his Lands, turn his Wife a grazing into the wide World, where she has only the liberty of choosing what Kingdom she pleases to beg in, and he, poor undone Man, is clapped into a Goal, there to endure a close and beggarly Confinement, durante vita; where he has time and room enough to lament his Deplorable Condition. The Woman she returns to her Friends, Cursing the hour that she was born in: never such a disgrace befell a Woman of her Birth and Education. Alas! Alas! (saith she) have I studied economy all my life long, and taken so much pains in governing my Family, been as sparing as any good Wife in the Parish, and all to keep both ends together, and is it come to this at last? O Death, come and put a Period to my Misery! Thus the harmless Woman bemoans her misfortune, lays all the fault at the poor Man's door, (poor Man indeed) and now he is fast in the Net, and the more he struggles, the more he is entangled; in short, he's laid up for his Life, and his Creditors, (for that's all they're like to have) may make Dice of his Bones.   

The Second COMFORT. The Credulous Coxcomb, the Gadding Jilt, and Cousin-Gallant.  
IT is the Misfortune of some Men, (and those some are too many, God wots) to prepossess themselves with a Conceit, that Reason, Sense and Demonstration can never convince them of; such is the case of the Husband that enjoys the second Comfort of Matrimony we are now discoursing of, who will not be persuaded by all the World, but she is the Handsomest Woman in it, though he is much mistaken; but I cannot blame him; for Beauty is nothing but mere Fancy, and if I conceit black and blue to be a comely Complexion, it is so to me: Having thus in his own Opinion Married a Fine Woman; he maintains her as finely: Her brisk humour inclines her to Visits, Treats, and Jovial Meetings; though this her Husband disrelisheth, but all to no purpose; for she's of a gadding temp●…, and out she must for Health and Recreation; but how to contrive the way to effect it quietly, hic labour, hoc opus; she is invited to a Feast, and a pretended Friend or Relation (who is no more of kin to her than Sir George is to the Dragon) however he comes to her, and she Salutes him by the name of Cousin, good Cousin, dear Cousin! and her Mother, to palliate the business, calls him so too, she knowing the better how to manage that Amorous Affair, because it hath been her own Condition formerly; but the Husband is unwilling to have her go, alleging many faint and frivolous Excuses; yet to take off all Jealousy from the Goodman, her Friend will say, in good Faith, Cousin, I have no mind at all to go to this Feast, I have business to do, nor would I set a foot over the Threshold, God knows my heart, were it not for your and my she Cousins Credit; and you know 'tis neither Modest nor Modish, for a Gentlewoman of her Rank to bestow Visits without an Attendant; though I am satisfied she is averse to any such kind of Promenade, or Collation; for of all Women, that ever I knew, when she is abroad she makes such ado to come home, that she almost disturbs the Company. The silly Fop now gins to incline and grant the Request; but first asks what Company they expect at this Entertainment? Excellent Company indeed Cousin! there will be your Mother-in-Law, my Wife, your Cousin, Mr. such a ones Daughter, and most of the good Neighbourhood; Company fit for a Princess, Men and Women of Quality. Well (quoth the Man) you may go, for this once, but I hope you don't intent to make a Trade on't, have a care of yourself, and be sure you don't bring Night home with you. Leave being thus obtained, the subtle Lady feigns an unwillingness, saying, indeed Love! I care not for going out at present, let me entreat you that I may stay at home; but he, having a great Confidence in the Cousin, says, nay, nay, sweet Heart, I would not have you so ungentile, as to disappoint your Neighbours, since you are ready, and the Assignation is pre-designed, prithee, Child go; whereupon away she frisks like Lightning with her Cousin-Gallant, fleering all the way at the contented one at home, saying, that he has some small smack of Jealousy, (and a great deal of Reason for it.) To the Place they come, and are no sooner arrived, but she is Nobly received for her Husband's sake, Treated with Airs, Balls, Banquets, and a thousand pretty little Frolicks and amorous Gambols, not fit to be here mentioned: All her Lovers are now met together, like Flies in Summer, every one intending to have a lick at her Honey-pot; every one putting forward, as he finds opportunity. One Compliments her at a very Modish rate; the other Presents her with a rich Diamond; one gives her the gentle Tread on the Toe, en passant, as the Frenchman hath it; the other gives her the amorous Squeeze of the hand; another leaning dispondently upon his Elbow, reaches her with a languishing Eye; So that she must needs be void of all Sense, if she depart without understanding all their good intentions. Thus every Spark endeavours (as much as in him lies) to make her Husband bear the Turkish Ensign of Christian Matrimony in the Van; which at last proves the occasion of her shame and his sorrow; for either by the mis-management, or mis-timing of her Amorous Designs, or the discovery of her Frolicks by some special Friend or Relation, the Husband comes to understand the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth, which drives him into a strange Paroxysm of Profound Melancholy, that all the Hellebore among the Anticyrae can never recover him: if he attempt to strike her, that won't do, but only add fuel to her Fire; that will take off her Affection, so that she will never dally with him, but only to pass away the time for want of better Company, and make use of him only as a Cloak to shroud and conceal her Lasciviousness. Thus is the poor Gentleman sensible of the Second Matrimonial Solace, being now fast bound to Ixion's Wheel of Misery, where he must live in a most laguishing, and die in a very miserable Condition.   

The Third COMFORT. The Bonny Girl, Twattling Gossips, and Contented Drudge.  
THE Youngsters of this Wanton Age, are so high-fed, live so much at ease, their Blood is so plentiful and sprightly, that they cannot contain themselves long without an Evacuation of the Extravagancies of the Fourth Concoction, and so must take a Wife (the Remedy oftentimes proving worse than the Disease) and eagerly pursue their own Misery and Discontent; for our young Couple being Married, at the usual time the Teeming Bonny Girl grows big, though possibly (as it too frequently falls out) not by the supposed Father; and now he gins to understand the Misery, Trouble and Affliction of a wedded Life; now must the poor Fellow troth all about the Town on his Wife's Errands, to purchase all things that may please her, if possible; for she gins to be squeamish, her Stomach fails, grows weak and peevish, like herself, and nothing will down with her but what is of the best; now he must trudge about night and day, ransack Heaven and Earth for Delicacies to cherish and comfort her, and empty his Purse to fill her Paunch with Dainties; and this pleasant life must be led for six or seven Months together, while his Wife Pampers her Carcase at home, and can scarce get a good word for his pains (a poor Gratuity for his kindness) nay probably, complains she is not so carefully provided for, as other Women in her Condition; although the poor Man rises early, goes to Bed-late, and eats the Bread of Carefulness, contriving all ways possible, for the provision of his Family; but this is not all, the time of her falling in pieces draws near, and here the poor Fellow is exposed to a world of Charge and Trouble; out he must to procure Godfathers and Godmothers, and such as she approves of too, for in this he is not allowed the freedom of his own Election the Midwife must be fetched, dry and we Nurse's provided (a sort of chargeable Slut● who will lap up more good Liquor in on● day, than the good Husband swallows i● a whole Week) in short, her Throes com● very thick upon her, and she is surrounde● with a Crew of Gossipping Neighbours' the Goodman in the mean time is at h● Devotion for her safe Delivery, which being over, than all his Care is to plea● the Woman in the Straw, and her Twattling Companions, who eat and drin● merrily, and he spares no cost to entertain them, and if any thing displeases them 'tis forty to one, but one of the Gossi● starts up and says, in troth, Mrs. I do v●ry much wonder, and so does all th● Company, that your Husband takes 〈◊〉 more care of you and your Child, especially being your Firstborn; what wou● he do, I trow, had you five or six? say another, I'll assure you, if my Husband's should serve me so, I would study Night and Day to be revenged of him; Indee says a third, I would not have you put up this Affront patiently; for if he serves you thus at the first, his usage will be courser to you hereafter. Cousin, says a fourth, I admire, that you, being so discreet a Woman, and of a good Family, that you can endure his unworthy behaviour to you, especially in this weakly condition: Alas! replies the Wife, I know not what to do with him, he is so cross and unkind to me. Upon my word, saith the other, he is an ill-natured Man, that he is not here in person to attend on this good company: Then starts up a Bold, Imperious Housewife, and thus gins to chatter; All the Neighbours here know very well, it was a common Rumour of my Husband, that he was the untowardest Man in the World, and would often threaten to break my bones, and be the death of me; but I thank my Stars for it, and my undaunted Spirit together, that I have tamed him sufficiently; I have brought him now to that pass, that he dares as well eat his Nails, as do any thing to disoblige me. 'Tis very true, when we were first Married he began to be Lofty and malapert, but I plucked up a good Spirit, set my foot in the Stirrup, road him with a Bit and a Snaffle, till I quite tired; and cured him of his Resty, Skittish Humour: insomuch that he has confessed, there is no good to be done with me by foul means: nay, if he had killed me, I was resolved never to Truckle under him; and now I can say, and do what I Please, without the least contradiction; for I will have the last word, right or wrong; so that now he crosses the Cudgels to me, and submits: nay, I will assure you Gentlewomen, there's no man living, how perverse soever, but his Wife may bring him to be Complaisant, if she take right measures, and manage him with Discretion; therefore, pray Neighbour, when your Husband comes Home, ring him such a Peal as may make his Ears glow, and his Heart ache, or you'll never get the better on him as long as you have a day to live. Thus these Gossipping Baggages, having cloyed 'emselves with good Wine, and plentiful Cheer, abuse the poor Man for his Pains, and by their advice set the Husband and Wife at variance, the Curse of parting Man and Wife light on them for their pains. Well being thus gorged with Edibles and Potables, away they go, and leave the Woman to play her part according to their goodly Instructions. At length Home the Husband returns, having undergone the Drudgery of the Day with Care and Pains, and no sooner enters his own Doors, but inquires how his Wife does; the Nurse, like an Instructed Dissembling Slut, makes answer, that she is in a very weak condition, and this bout had like to have cost her Life; I have tended several in my time, but your Wife is the weakest Woman I ever looked to in all my Life; thus they Tease the foolish Man, who cannot rest till he hath seen his Wife; into the Chamber he goes, and the first Salutation is, how is't my Dear? Truly Love, very sick and weak; I am very sorry for it; and fear you fast too much: I cannot eat, my Appetite is palled and gone: Well, I will order you some Gelly-broths and Caudles to comfort you; which he does accordingly, and sends 'em to her: Thus tired with running about all day long, he calls for some Refreshment, which is brought him, being only the Reversions of the Servants, which he is content with, whilst his Wife is cherished with costly and comfortable Draughts, he only swells his empty Maw, with Flatulent and Sour Six, and to Bed he packs up with his Head full of care and sleep; in the Morning up he gets by Break of Day, visits his Wife, and asks her how she rested; alas! (saith she) I have not so much as closed my eyes, or had one wink of sleep all this Night, though she rested as well and sound as if she had taken a Dose of Opium. My Heart, saith he, the Gossips will be here to day, you must make much of them, and should think of rising to entertain them; for you have kept your Bed above a Fortnight; Love we must be as saving as we can, Charges are great, and I have much ado to keep both ends together. Think of Rising! (says the Wife) a Curse on the Hour I was born! O, that I had died in Labour, and then there had been an end of me! Is it come to this indeed; must I rise already, and am not able to stand upon my Legs? Do you long to see me drudging about the House before I am able to creep? You are a very kind Man, a most loving Husband indeed; I find now you wish me dead, so do I too. Well! well! I am content to rise to Morrow, come on't what will; I do very well foresee what I must undergo for the time to come; what would you do, if I had ten or twelve Children, which God forbidden, and if it be his will, I hope this is the last? but Gods will be done. As for Gossips coming to see me, I had rather they would stay at Home, and so they would if they knew how little their Visits please me; nor would you yourself (if you had any respect for me) promote their coming, when here were Twenty Discreet Women at least, who came to see me with a great deal of Kindness and Respect, and the Cheer you provided for them, I would be ashamed to set before their Servants; this is truth, Sir, I saw it with my own eyes, overwhelmed with Tears, to hear that they should in a slighting, scoffing way take notice of it. Well, My Dear, you are soon moved I find to Passion, though I give you no occasion; but satisfy yourself, that henceforth, I shall be content that you please yourself, and rise when you think it convenient. Do what you please, Sir, only I beg of you to talk to me no longer; for I am very full of Pain, and would desire you to send to our Neighbours not to come because I am so much indisposed; Love, says he, they shall come, and be well treated too; for God's sake let me alone, and do what you will. Then one of the Nurse's attaques him with her deceitful Tongue, pray Sir, do not force my Mistress to speak, it is very dangerous; for she is a very weak Woman, and if the Wind gets into her Head, it will do her and irreparable Injury (O brave Doctresses!) than she draws the Curtains, and the Wife and the Husband are not yet Reconciled; however she expects the Gossips, who will act their parts so effectually, and give him such Flouts and Jeers, which will so tame him, that he may be easily led any where by the Nose for ever after. However away he goes and makes Provision for them in a more plentiful manner, by reason of the Reproof he received from his Wife. The Gentlewomen at the time appointed appear, he welcomes them all, and conducts them to his Wife's Chamber; where they and the sick Woman Eat and Drink hearty, to a more than becoming Festivity, and Flirt and Joke with the Master of the House, till they have quite dispirited him, and made him a mere Mamma Mouchey; so that now he is content to do any thing for a quiet Life, dandle the Brat in his Arms, dry the pissed Clouts on his Horns, for fear the Nurse curse him, or else his Wife (having got the better end of the Staff) tell him plainly, he shall never more enter her Premises. This comfortable Life he must lead; his Wife must be maintained at a high rate, and have her Will in all things; he must live Meanly and Penuriously, having his will in nothing; and thus he is caught in the Net, where he struggles to no purpose, for there he must Live, in spite of Fate, Despicably, and die Wretchedly.   

The Fourth COMFORT. The decayed Gentleman, the Virago and her Topping Daughters.  
WHen a Man hath been so Injurious to himself as to abandon a single Life, and run headlong upon Marriage, without any Reason or Sense; and having pved in the state of Matrimony for the pace of ten or twenty years, hath his Ta●e surrounded with Children, and the ●ack Ox hath trod upon his Foot, all that ●e can do, is only to keep the Wolf from ●e door, Charges daily increasing; and ●mong them three or four Daughters Marriageable, but not as yet disposed of, whose ●…od Qualities (I mean Pride and Inso●nce) are too Notorious to the World, ●d the Father hath little, or no Portion 〈◊〉 bestow upon them; he, poor Gentleman, must be in a kind of Troublesome indition; for his Daughters must be maintained gently at home, and well attired when they go abroad a la Mode, 〈◊〉 these three Reasons:  
First, That they may be the sooner put off, and by their Mincing Gate, and Gay Garb, bait some Spark or other into the Net of Marriage.  
Secondly, if their Father be Hidebound, and will not do it, he shall have his Hands and his Heart full, and they will do little or nothing for him, presuming upon their Mother, who countenanceth them in so doing, like a dutiful Wife.  
Thirdly, the young Women in the Neighbourhood are maintained finely, and well habited, and so must they too, and why not, as well as other men's Children, of the same Rank and Quality?  
Thus is the Man wearied out of hi● Life, if he drudge not in the World to support their Pride and Vanity, though probably to their utter Ruin: sometimes he beats the hoof twenty or thirty Miles about business, or, if he be Master of an● Horse, rides at other times 100, to attend the Parliament, or Courts in Termtime about a Lawsuit, which hath been depending from his Childhood, so that h● is forced, to save Charges, to go ver● meanly accoutred, having a pair of Boo● Nine or Ten Years old, and so often vamped and mended, that, like Drake's Ship, the● have not one piece of their first Materials his Spurs were made in Harry 8th's time, ●nd one of them wants the great gingling Rowel: his  so mean and aged, ●hat they will scarce hang together by the assistance of Patching, so as to cover his Nakedness, or keep his body from the injury of the Wether: The Sword he years is a Hacking Morglay, which some ●f his Ancestors took at the Siege of Troy: His Beast carries behind him an old Knap●ick, that his Forefathers used at the Siege ●f Bouloigne; the Livery he gives is well known, for the Antiquity thereof, both in City and Country, the Coat being worn 〈◊〉 short that it scarce reaches the Pocket●oles, and in good faith, 'tis like to be long ●nough,  it be longer: in short, thus he ●ves sparingly abroad, to balance the great expenses at Home, whither he returns, ●ith a heavy Heart, and a light purse, the ●awyers, Attorneys, Solicitors and Bai●ffs having sufficiently purged his Bags, ●…d sent him away with a Flea in his Ear. ●eing arrived at his own apartment, be●…ld now his comfortable Reception, his ●nd welcome by his Wife! who as soon 〈◊〉 she espies him, instead of Embracing, ●eats him with a sour Countenance, ●…ds fault with some miscarriage in the ●use, stamps and storms like a Bethlemite, the Servants being all at her Beck, dare not give any Respect or Attendance: nay, the good-natured Elf, dares not open his mouth for any thing, till the Storm is over, bears all patiently, without the least noise, to prevent disturbance in his Family, and sets him down some distance from the Fire, though very cold, she and her Children keeping all the heat from him; a● length being moved with her Dogged and Currish Usage toward him, he may say, Methinks Mistress, you look very surly upon me, as if I had offended you, pray get me somewhat to refresh me, for 〈◊〉 am almost spent and tired off of my Legs being wet to the skin, having neither Ea●… nor Drunk this day, and yet you cannot so much as afford me a pleasant look: Yes saith she, I had need take care of you indeed, you have spun a fair Thread, I have lost more by my Hemp and Flax since your absence, than you will get these fiv● years, by taking your Man along with you, so that I had no body to help me to Soak or Whiten it; besides, I have often wished you, since your departure, at th● Devils Arse of Peak, that you did not sto●… the holes in the Hen-house, for the stinking Polecat hath eaten three of my be●… Laying Hens, whose loss is not so inconsderable as you imagine, and if you steer his Course, you will be certainly one of ●he poorest Men in your Family: Pray, ●ith he, Mistress, don't you give me such Language, God be praised, I am content with what I have, and shall have more if 〈◊〉 be his will, besides, there are still some charitable, good People in my Family: Good, for what, says she, for nothing? 〈◊〉 know but few of them, if any, worth ●he mentioning: Ay, saith the Husband, I ●…y good People: And what good do ●hey do you? what good? as much goods ●s yours: say you so, sweet Sir, but I'll ●e bold to tell you to your Teeth, and spit ●n the face of those that shall dare to oppose it, that yours had been a poor stock, had it not been for the frequent Supplies of ●ny Friends and Relations, and if they should hear you say half so much to me, ●hey would tell you your own, in good Faith, would they. Well! prithee sweet heart (saith he) be not so High, let us ●eave off this Discourse: and so he is for●ed to acquiesce, for fear his Friends should be acquainted therewith. But the Fray is not yet over, for it happens that one of the little Children falls a crying, and as it falls out, 'tis the Father's Darling, whom ●he whips severely, more to spite him, than any thing else; prithee Woman, sait● he, why are you so sharp with the Child in the Devil's name, saith she, what d● you concern yourself, you are not at th● trouble of bringing them up, or looking after them? that is my Drudgery Night and day, as long as I am able to stan● upon my legs; shame on you, must I b● thus controlled, that I must not correct my own Child? if I take him up again, I'll fle● him, and do you seek your remedy. The says the Nurse, indeed Sir, you are not a home to see it, nor do you know what ●world● heavy hand my Lady has in bringing them up: by my faith (saith the Chambermaid) it is a stark shame, that whe● you come home, instead of our rejoicing at your Company, you create nothing bu● Disturbance and Noise among us; Noise saith the Lady, go you Fool, this is no thing in comparison of what I have taken at his hands, and must do so still, as long as it pleaseth my good God. Thus the whole Family, by the instigation of the Mistress, is up in Arms against their Master, who creeps to Bed Supperless and Comfortless, the Children in the Night bawling about his ears, that he can take no rest, which is done on purpose to disturb him; thus he spends his days in Care, his Nights in Torment; and so we ●ave him to enjoy the Fruits of his Folly.   

The Fifth COMFORT. The Doting Cornuto, and Young Brisk Girl.  
LOve or Lust, call it what you please, may be counted (if at all) pardonable in Young; but in Old Men not to be ●ndur'd; when they have exhausted their ●umidum radical, their Bodies being invaded by Rheum, and those many Infirmity that attend Old Age. This is the Case at present of our Grave Senior who 〈◊〉 married to a Young Brisk Girl of a Nobler extract than himself; but certain●y there is reason in this, for she might ●ave been Matched to a far greater advantage, but her Friends were forced to dis●ose of her to any one (God wots) being but of a cracked Reputation, and hav●ng had a shrewd Mischance, the effect of ●er Youthful Wantonness; and though this ●ath been frequently discoursed of about ●he Town, yet the doting Cornuto, is too Credulous to believe any such Rampant Stories, but stands highly in her Vindication. Thus he, being well stricken in years, abandons all sorts of Pleasures, and only studies to turn the Penny to advantage, that he may maintain her according to her port, Gently: but his Lady being of a Generous Temper, and in the Vigour of her Youth, is no way inclineable to that close-fisted humour of her Avaricious Bedfellow, but resolved to pas● her time jovially, and swim in Delight and Pleasure. To this purpose her firs● Intrigue is to get a Gallant, which is soo● done by the opportunities She has at Treat● and Meetings, whither She daily rambles, and an Assignation being made, they caress and embrace one another without control or Suspicion; for her Honour must be still preserved untainted; and having diverted themselves with all the Amorous Sports and Love-Toys, that Wantonness ever could invent, the next Diversion is to Droll at her Aged Husband, who is buffooned on all sides by all Persons, but more particularly and bitterly by her Ladyship. Well! home she returns, big with expectation of her Gallants appointed Visit the next Morning, and to Bed with her Husband She goes, with as much love as the Devil has for Holy Water; and by that time his frozen Limbs are somewhat thawed with natural heat, the Cuckoldly Goat must be up and at her; but she pretends She is very ill, drowsy and inclinable to sleep; therefore pray (saith She) let me alone, you will infinitely oblige me, if you will forbear till Morning, and then I shall be fit for your service; at which the Old Oaf turns for fear of displeasing her; whose head runs upon nothing but Meeting with her Friend, and contrives withal, (consulting with her Pillow) how to put off the Old Man, that he shall not touch her, when Morning comes; which she cunningly effects, as followeth; ●ither she rises very early, leaves the old Gentleman fast (for Age is Childish, and consequently sleepy for the most part) and ●s satisfied or tired with her Gallant, be●ore Father Graybeard awakes: and then ●ummageth about the House, playing the Good Housewife seemingly: or otherwise, ●he does not rise at all; but before day appears, she sighs and groans o● purpose, that ●he good Gentleman may hear her, who presently asks her how she is: indeed love, ●ith she, I have such a pain in my side, accompanied with the Gripes, that I can ●ake no rest, I think it is my old Distemper: prithee, sweet heart, turn to me: ●pon my faith, my Dear, I am all in a sweat, ●nd dare not for fear of catching cold, which may cost me my life, being of a weak Constitution: then he covers her close up, bids her be careful of herself, and he will take care of her Household Affairs: up he gets without Fire or Candle, yet procures her a fire against her rising: thus she takes her ease, and laughs in her sleeve at the Old Man's Folly; when he understands she is up, he comes to see her very lovingly, and gins to be Amorous, but she having a mind to disappoint him, says, would it were God's Will that you would never meddle with me, till I did ask you: and would you not then, says he? no, upon my Conscience, Love, I think not, and had I known but as much before, I would never have Married: Why then did you Marry, saith he? indeed Love, I know not I was but a Young Girl, and did it in obedience to the Commands of my Parents what is the meaning on't, sweet heart, you are always, in this humour? I do not know, but indeed, love, were it not to please you, I would never be troubled with due Benevolence, as you call it: thus she wheedles the superannuated Fop into a strange conceit of her Chastity: so tha● this persuasion increaseth the Flome of hi● Affection, which he thinks can never b● extinguished. But now observe the damned subtlety of a wily Woman, who never wants one contrivance or other to choose any one she hath a mind to please. If she has a mind to Cajole him out of , Rings, Jewels, Moneys, or any thing that she fancies, the Scene is quite altered; then, when they are both warm in Bed, how the dissembling Gipsy Kisses, Hugs and Squeezes him in her Arms, till his old bones ●attle in his skin, and helps his aged Heaviness with her youthful Activity, so that ●he old Man is in a kind of Ecstasy, to find ●er so prodigal of her Favour and Kind●ess; prithee my Dear! (saith she) have a ●reat care of yourself, for my sake, as well ●s your own; for my life is bound up ●ith yours, and one grave must contain ●s both: Would to God I had no other paradise on this side Heaven, but to be In●mbed in your Arms, this I speak cordi●ly, God is my Witness; and if any Man ●d ever touch my Lips, but yourself, and ●y Cousin, (and you allow of that by ●mmanding me to do it,) then let my punishment be never to receive Kiss or embrace from you more, and that I am ●e would soon break my poor Heart; ● I am confident there is not a sweeter ●atured Man in the Universe, than you ●c. No, Love, saith he, except the Gentleman that Courted you before me: Pish Pish, says, she, upon my Honour, I was smitten with you the first time I saw you, though at a distance, I may very safely swear it was Love at first sight; I think it was a Match made in Heaven; for my Father would have Married me to that Gentleman, but I would never consent to it; I can give no reason for it, but it was Decreed it should be so. Thus she procures what she designed, though at never so dear a rate, and this kind of Caressing soon opens the Miser's Coffers, who knows her temper so well, that she will never give over till she has her will, whatsoever it costs. Now she gins, being furnished, to think o● other things; her Gallant, that she formerly maintained, must like her overwor● Apparel, be laid aside, and a new, rich on● embraced; but she is too crafty to be to forward, and keeps him at a bay for ● time, refuseth his Presents and Visits, ti● her Plots are brought to Maturity: Th● young Gentleman is Enamoured, an● wants an opportunity to meet with he Maid, which he soon obtains: Sweetheart quoth he, I must have a little Talk wit● you; that you may, Sir, if you please: yo● know (saith he) the extreme passion th● I have for your Lady, do you think the● is any possibility of obtaining my desires? Did she ever mention me since the last interview? In truth, Sir, she never opens her Lips, but to your commendation, and I am satisfied she wishes you well: Well, Child! I do wholly confide in you, do but have me so much in your thoughts, as now and then to speak a good word for me, and you shall be no loser by it; I will bestow a new Gown upon you, and here are five Guineas to buy you Gloves: Excuse me, Sir, saith she, I shall not take them; but indeed, Sweetheart, you shall, and so at length, with some little persuasion, like a right Maid, she cries Nay, and takes it: Away she hastens to her Lady, and acquaints her, that she had met with her Gallant: well, and what says he? Why, faith, Madam, I think he is a little Lunatic upon your account, for he neither knows what he does or says: But how dost thou like him, Girl? good Faith, Madam, I look upon him to be the most Comely, Complete Gentleman that ever I set my eye on in my Life, and I am of Opinion, that he will be a very Fond and Faithful Lover: nay, he is a Gentleman every Inch of him, hath a very good Estate, and is able to Gratify your Kindnesses, by which Means you may embrace a Happy and Comfortable Piece of Gallantry, as long as you have the enjoyment of each others Society. In troth I am at a loss, almost at my Wit's end, I can get nothing out of my Husband, but what is absolutely necessary: Pray, Madam, Consider of it, for I promised to return him an answer to morrow: But how, Girl, shall we curry this Horse? how shall we manage this Affair? As for that, Madam let me alone, I beseech you, I shall meet him to Morrow-morning, and then I'll tell him plainly, that you would not so much as lend the least Ear to my Discourse, or consent to any thing requested (do what I could) being so tender of your Honour and Reputation, and I am sure I can Act a Dissembling Part pretty well. In the Morning, after she had made him attend two hours at least, they meet together according to Appointment. How now Sweet Heart, says the Gallant, how is it with your Lady? She is very Thoughtful and Pensive, full of Grief and Sorrow for the ill Usage of her Husband, who is so wicked a Man to her, that it is not to be believed what the Poor Gentlewoman undergoes: I am sorry for't (quoth he) with all my Heart; but what did your Lady say to you? upon my Faith, Sir, I spoke to her, for which I have gained a great deal of ill Will; she would not so much as hear me, nor consent to any thing proposed, so highly doth she prise her Reputation, and if she had a mind to be kind to her Neighbours, and love them as herself, she is under an Italian slavery, being so kept in and Watched by the old Lump of Jealousy her Husband. I do not remember, that she ever exchanged a word with any Man in Discourse, since I have waited upon her, and I have been her Servant these four years and upwards, but only with yourself the other day, whom she remembers still, and for aught I know, to be plain with you, would sooner love you, than any other in the World. Dear Child, (saith he) bring but that about, and I'll be your Eternal Friend. Truly Sir (saith she) I have done already all that lies in my power as to that, and dare not attempt any further, but in any thing else feasible, Command me, and I'm your Servant. Prithee, advise me what to do in this Case: Why, your best way will be to make an Address to her yourself, and now is the most Critical time in the World; for she and her Husband are at Variance, and you will find her at Church, where you may make your Amours to her, Caress her, and present her, though I'm confident she'll refuse all; but no matter for that, she'll have a great esteem for you, notwithstanding her Denial, and will set a higheou value upon your Generosity and Worth than you can possibly imagine, do as I counsel you, and so all happiness attend you. (Sanctified Advice indeed in so Sanctified a Place, to make the Church a Brothel-House, and Religion a Pander to fordid Lust!) When you have acted your part, as I have told you, (saith this She-Emissary of the Devil) give me what you intent her as a Present, and I will so order the matter, that she shall accept of it, or do my utmost endeavour, though I lose my labour. You say very well, my Dear Child! and so they part. Away runs this Giggling Baggage, and smiling at her Lady; upon my Soul, Madam, there are a great many Persons in the World, who would wish for your Happiness; for he is resolved to Accost you, and discover his whole mind; now summon all your discretion together, let this be your dernier effort, as the Frenchman terms it; carry yourself strangely to him, and hold him in suspense for a time; for you know, 'tis Expectation makes a Blessing dear; but be sure you be not so severe in your deportment as to Dash the Young Gentleman quite out of Countenance. Thus full freighted with hopes, she hastens to Church, stimulated by Lechery, rather than Devotion; where arrived, her Gallant attacques her, but she will consent to nothing, nor accept of his Presents; however she entertains him so favourably, that he may plainly discover her Affection to be more than ordinary: so they take leave with a light heart, and the Lady and her waiting Gentlewoman Consult how to manage the Business cleanlily without suspicion: I am satisfied, Madam, saith her Maid, that he has a longing desire to be wrapped up in your Embraces, and I will tell him my Master is gone into the Country for some time, and bring him the backway to your Chamber, in the deepest silence of the Night, (the securest time for such Secrecies) yet so that you shall seem to be altogether ignorant of my Design, and Sergeant a real Passion for so strange and unworthy a surprisal, and withal acquaint him that you will cry out, and call upon me, and what he presents you with by my hands, do you obstinately refuse at first; Chide me for it before his face, press me to return it, but yet I hope you will have the grace at last to accept it, for in truth there is no dealing with Men, but by outdoing them in Female-Craft, the only weapons we have to defend ourselves against that Sex. Now this cunning Wench finds out the Gallant, who asks her what News? In short Sir (saith she) not to Trifle away time, which is very precious, if I could prevail with her to accept the present you intent her, the Business would be done effectually, and to your satisfaction; the Gallant being ravished with her Discourse, immediately puts fifty Guineas into her Hand, as a present of his Affection to her Lady. Well Sir (saith she) I will undertake one thing more, for I know my Lady has a kindness for you; therefore come you the back way, in the dead time of the Night, now my Master is absent, and I will convey you to her Chamber, she being Childish and consequently Sleepy, you will have the better opportunity to unclothe yourself, and to Bed to her without Delay, or Ceremony, and in all probability the business will be done; for when you both are naked in one Bed, and in the dark too, there is no Dispute of prevailing: come, come Sir! Women are Flesh and Blood, as well as Men, and subject to Failings as well as they: I question not but you know the old Proverb, Faint Heart ne'er won Fair Lady, therefore be Brisk and Active, and you need not despair of obtaining your desire, I'll pawn my Reputation for it. The Lady is informed of all Passages between them, the Presents are accepted, and the Chambermaid finds the Lover at the Place and Time appointed. Conveys him to her Lady's Chamber, and so leaves him: Now you may imagine that his Desires being winged with Love, he was not long disrobing himself, but steals into Bed, and embraces her in his Arms, at which she seems to startle out of a feigned slumber, and says, what, my Dear, is it you? No, Madam, it is I, says the Gallant? how you? saith she, who are you? this is not to be endured; whereupon she struggles to rise, calls upon her Gentlewoman, twice or thrice, but alas! to no purpose: and great pity 'tis, that in such a time of Necessity the Maid would give her no answer: Ah! (saith she) I'm betrayed, and struggles for it, till her breath failed her, so that she was at his mercy, who treated her very kindly, she enjoying such gentle usage as she expected, and they both designed; yet, to speak the truth, Men are to blame for these rude Assaults: and what could a poor, weak Woman do alone, who durst not cry out as loud as she would, for fear of losing her reputation? but to make the best of a bad Market, here's their comfort still, the Curtains cannot, and the Maid dares not tell any Tales. Thus they made the best improvement of their time, and when they had sufficiently solaced 'emselves parted amicably, till they should have an opportunity to re-enjoy their delights, the next Assignation. But at length by some unlucky accident or other, old Erra Pater, the Husband, comes to be certainly informed of the whole matter, and indeed more than he cared to hear, which puts him into a Raving Jealous Fit of Melancholy, he stamps and stairs like one distracted; but she being now fleshed with Lust, and seasoned with impudence, gives him as good as he brings, upbraids him with his beggarly Relations, laughs him to scorn, and this is the only Mirth he is like to enjoy with a continuando, till at last dried up with grief, and shrivelled with Age, he brings his Grey hairs with sorrow to the Grave.   

The Sixth COMFORT. Jack-hold-my-staff, and Lady Pouting.  
THE next Married Couple we meet with enjoy the Comforts of Matrimony, as much as any of the five preceding: and here it is the fortune of a Man, to be Wedded to a Woman of so cross and domineering a Temper, that she will wear the Breeches and the Cap too, so that the poor Fop at Home is like John Hold-my-staff, she must Rule, Govern, Insult, Brawl, understand all concerns at home and abroad, answer all businesses, manage all Affairs, though she be never so well maintained, and want for nothing, yet he must be in the Family like a mere cipher, and her whole delight and design is to Plague and Torment him. And thus she gins; when they have passed away the Night very sportingly, and enjoyed the delights of the Marriagebed, as all good People ought to do, her Husband leaves her in a very good humour, to dress and trim herself up, he, in the mean time, while she is Tricking, takes care of the Domestic Affairs, and when Dinner is ready, sends for his Wife to accompany him; but word is brought she will not Dine to day, go again (saith he) and bid her come, the Maid does so, and tells her Mistress, my Master desires you to come, go and tell him once more, that I will not come: the Good man is not satisfied with this answer, but sends a third time, but to no purpose; so that at length he goes himself, and asks her why she will not come to Dinner? not a word will she give him; what ail'st thou, my Dear? not a Syllable will she return, but Pout and Frown, he inquires of the Family what is the reason, but cannot receive any satisfaction; when, as the truth is, she ails nothing, but only resolves to be Dogged, and perhaps will not come to Dinner, do what he can; at other times, possibly he may prevail with her, when he hath begged so long till the meat is spoiled at the Fire, or cooled on the Table, and then he leads her to Dinner, but she has no stomach, not one Morsel will go down, and he, like a Fop, to comply with her froward humour, will fast likewise, but the more fool he, for the more kindness he shows her, the more she slights him; and, in my Opinion, she is to be commended, for what need any Woman Court his favour, that dotes upon her already? If he should despise and contemn her, than she had reason to screw herself into his affection, if possible. Another trick she has to vex him, and that is this, when he is abroad, he sometimes accidentally meets with some of his intimate acquaintance, to whom he is infinitely obliged, and has a design to Treat them at his own House, which is more Gentile, and less chargeable than at the Tavern; away he sends his Servant to her, who when he comes, says, Mistress, my Master will be here in the Evening with three or four Friends, Persons of good Repute, and desires you would provide every thing necessary for their reception. Upon my faith (saith she) not I, I will have nothing to do with his Treats, why did he not come himself? I don't know that, Mistress, but this he commanded me to tell you: Go, go, you are a very Rogue, and meddle with that, that does not concern you. Well, to show her readiness and obedience, she first sends all the Servants abroad, except a well-instructed Maid or two, brought up to her own hand, that have the length of her foot exactly, and then she whips into her Chamber, and locks herself up. When her Husband comes home, he asks if every thing be ready, according to his order; truly Sir, saith the Maid, my Mistress is very ill, and there is no body at home to do any thing; this puts our Master (if he may be so called without offence) into a great Chafe, but however leads his Friends into the Parlour, where all things are out of order, and therefore goes to his Wife, why have you served me so? saith he. Sir, you do command so many things at once, that I do not know which to turn myself to first. Fie! Fie! saith he, you have done me the greatest diskindness imaginable; for these are the only Persons in the World, that I am obliged to. And how can I help it? (says she) what would you have me to do? You show your Wisdom in it indeed; well, do what you please; I'm sure it don't please me. But hark you, Gentlewoman, why did you send the Servants out of the way? God bless me, what a Question is that from a wise Man as you are? Did I know, or could I divine, think you, that you had any occasion for them? When the mischievous Wretch sent them out of the way, on purpose to disappoint and Fret him. Away he goes again to his Friends in a fury, but she values it not, knowing the Storm will soon blow over. To be short, he bustles about, and sets all things in as good order as he can. Then he sends for some of the Table-Linnen, and word is brought there's none to be had. He goes to his Wife, and tells her what a shame and disgrace it will be, both for him and her, not to have fine Linen, she tells him there is Linen out already, good enough for them; for I'm sure my Friends and Relations are content with it, when they bestow a Visit on us, and I'm sure they are as good as the best of them, but however to satisfy you, all the best Linen is in the Wash, except what is under Lock and Key in the Trunk, and the Keys were lost this Morning; but you had best go ask the Chambermaid, and bid her seek them; for I know not what is become of them, I have so many things running in my head, that I do not know sometimes what I do, I am in such distraction and confusion. Then the Fop bites the Lip, scratches his empty Noddle, and raps out a great Oath, being enraged (and cause enough too) that he will quickly make the Locks fly, if they do not find the Keys, and that speedily too. Say you so, good Sir, quoth she, I would I could see that once, you would show a great deal of discretion in such an action, I confess; but his heat being somewhat allayed, he considers she is in the right, and so they fall to what is before them; the best Wine, Meat and every thing, being at her disposal, but they are like to go without it, for all her Huffing Husband. Nay, they must not have clean Sheets, but lie in Foul Linen. Well! in the Morning they take their leaves, and divert themselves upon the Road with the Poor, overriden Fools affliction, resolving never more to set foot within his doors. When they are gone, he attacques his Wife (thinking to bestow a little moderate reproof upon her) saying, indeed, my Dear, you are a very strange Woman, and I do not at all understand your froward humour: Lord bless me, saith she, what ado you keep about me? I am weary of my Life, would I were as deep in the ground as I am high; I am up early, and down late, feeding your Poultry, looking after your Domestic Affairs, Spinning, Carding, and what not, never Idle, I am sure the Care I take, will shorten my days; and yet all this does not deserve (the more's my grief) so much as one good word from you, I scrape at home, and am as sparing as can be, and you spend all abroad, yet you are not content. Thus they live a discontented, wretched Life, old Age creeps upon him, Grief seizeth him; he grows a Sot, and she makes a Beast of him; he is entangled in the Net, and if he makes himself away, or comes to some ill End, he may thank himself for it, and verifies the old Proverb, Marriage and Hanging go by Destiny, and there is an end of him.   

The Seventh COMFORT. The easy Fool, and Madam Wheedle.  
THE Grave Italians have a Proverb, that Honest Men Marry, but Wise Men don't, and that is the Reason we have so many Fops in the World, and so few discreet Persons. Our next Married Couple that we shall represent to you, we will suppose to be well Matched, and they enjoy themselves for some time; but the clearest Sun may be often overcast with Clouds, and then according to the Lyric Poet, 
Desinit in Piscem Mulier formosa supernè.   
A Fair Morning may end in a Lowering Evening. In the heat and vigour of Youth, their days may be somewhat Pleasant; but the Woman decays not so soon as the Man, let their condition be what it will, for he is often harassed and broken with Carking Care, whilst she grows plump with Delight and Pleasure: And as for her Pain and Peril of Childbearing, I do no more wonder at it, than at the laying of a great Egg, by a Hen, or a Goose, the ordinary effect of Nature, no more, notwithstanding all their Tittle Tattle, the Hen being always the fatter for laying, whilst the Cock scrapes and provides for her, as the honest Married Man for his Wife. And when the poor Man gins to decline, grow weak and imbecile, the good Wife continuing still very Blithe and Gamesome, than the former Delights, Amorous Tricks, Kind Expressions, Wanton Looks and Glances, are turned into downright Scolding, and endless Contention. Well! at length she gins to discover her good Temper, she looks sourly upon him with a Cloudy Countenance, slights and neglects him as insufficient, and is much concerned at the Disappointment of his Impetuous Nerve, his Heat and Activity being lost, or at least abated. Then she grows of Opinion, that God and the Laws did certainly ordain a Woman more than one Man as well in England as in Turkey, and other well Regulated Countries, and saith she will run the Risque, and try how other Men are Weaponed and Qualified for the Sport, and now the Game gins, she grows worse and worse to him, leads him a sad Life, that the foolish Man had better have chosen a Halter than a Wife, because the former might have proved the end, whereas the latter is but the beginning of his Misery: For now through her lose course of Life, the Candle burns at both ends, they live at Rack and Manger (as the old saying is) and all tends to Ruin and Destruction, both of Soul and Body. Thus she Consumes with her unlawful Lust, what he has Raked together by his lawful Care and Labour: Then he capitulates with himself, and says, 'tis strange to me that my Estate should dwindle away at this rate, I am sure, I have ever had a Care of the Main Chance, and paid every one their own, lived sparingly, clothed myself meanly, and all to no purpose; for I can scarce keep the Wolf from the door. At length he grows Jealous of his Wife, and imputes all his Misfortune to her Miscarriage; but upon Examination of the whole, she wheadles him so cunningly by her Woman-craft, that he is satisfied those Reports of her Immodesty are false and malicious: She claps her hands upon his Head and wishes the Devil had all that is under her Hands, if ever any Man kissed her but himself: and so the Fool is reconciled to his good Wife: Nay she proceeds farther; As for that Villain that misinformed you, since it must out, I'll tell you the whole truth of the Story; this Base, Perfidious Varlet hath been these two years attempting my Chastity, but I have hitherto, (I thank my God for it) kept myself Pure, Undefiled, and repulsed him to his shame, if he has any in him, notwithstanding all his large Proffers and specious Pretences. Can it enter into your thoughts, Sweet Heart! that I should ever defile your Bed, away with all such vain Imaginations! Can it be supposed, that I should leave so kind and comely a Man as you are, for the Embraces of another? I were worse than the Devil himself, if I should take such Hellish Courses; however I forgive him that has so basely bespattered me; but I must beg this Favour of you, that you never suffer him to set foot again within these doors; for if you do I will shun him Cane pejus & angue, more than a cursed Gur, or a poisonous Adder; and I'll assure you, if I find you keep the least Correspondence with him for the future, I will pack up my Awls, be gone from you, and will never live with you while I have breath in my body: God forbidden that you should ever live to see that day wherein I should defile your Bed; no no, my Dear, it is not come to that yet, and then she bursts outwith Tears, wring her hands, and bitterly exclaiming against that Wretch with all imaginable Female Invectives. Well! all is well; he is Banished the House, and the Good man rails against him for a great Rogue, to abuse his good, Modest Wife in so high a Nature. Thus he grows fonder and fonder, becomes a mere Ass, is infatuated by his Wife, and transfigured into a Beast, without Sense or Reason. Thus she has got the Day, wears the Breeches (and those Women are Fools that do not if they can) has freer access to her Gallant, unsuspected, than formerly, and the Fop her Husband is deaf to all Accusations: at length through this Dotage he falls into extreme Penury, and finds to his Ghost, Sera est in fundo Parsimonia, 'Tis too late to be saving, when there is nothing to save; these are the Pleasures and Comforts of a Married Life; he is made the Scorn and Scoff of the Neighbourhood; some perhaps may be so kind as to pity the Honest Man; Wise Men reject him, and slight his Company; his Wife smiles at his Folly, enjoys her stolen Amours undiscovered: grows at length as common as a Barber's Chair, no sooner one is out, but another's in; exposeth her Body to every Person, who is sufficiently Tooled for her Salaciousness; and at last (as a just Reward of her, Debauchery and Lasciviousness) gets the Foul Disease of some Fouler Rascal, gives it her good Husband, in Retaliation of all his fondness, so that they live in pain all the days of their lives, and at last end their days unpitied, loathsomely and wretchedly.   

The Eighth COMFORT. Father Noddy and Mother Snapp.  
OUR next Married Couple that we are to discourse of, are Persons well enough Matched, if they could be content with what they have: God hath blest them with five or six sweet Children Living, and the Wife is as big as she can Tumble with another. The time of her delivery, and his charges draws nigh, and ●…l things must be made ready for the ●od Wives that are about her; at length ●fter some sharp Throws, they give her ●…er for dead, the poor Man is almost ●t his wit's end, when he first hears that dismal news, runs about like a Mad Man for help, falls on his knees, prays ●r her safe delivery, his Prayers are heard, ●nd she is brought to bed of a Lusty Boy. ●ow there is nothing but Carousing and rejoicing throughout the Family, the ●ap runs apace, but the Gossip's Tongues, ●…l'd with Liquor, faster, interlarded with ●nutty discourse, suitable to the present ●…casion. The Spring of the Year is now ●ming on, and every one of any Quali●… is preparing for the Country to View nature's Green Tapestry, and hear the ●arbling Nightingale Carol her sweet ●otes in the pleasant serenity of the quiet ●vening, and among the rest, the Wife ●ust go to take the Country Air after her ●ing in, and 'tis but requisite for her ●ealths sake: but how to persuade him 〈◊〉 take this Journey, there's the business. ●ow she gins to set all Engines at work to that purpose; first she comes home discontented, and is very Snappish to he● Husband; what's the matter? Love! saith he, what makes you so out of humour 〈◊〉 the matter quoth she, I think I have reason enough, the Child is very much distempered with a Violent Burning Fever, insomuch, that the Nurse protests to me● (though it was a long time 'ere I could get i● out of her) that the poor Babe hath no● taken the Breast these four days. I am hearty troubled, and know not how t● help myself; but that which afflicts me most is, that upon my conscience, I believe God Almighty punishes the Child for my sins, for I made a vow to go into the Country, and I shall never be at rest, till I have performed it. Why, sweet heart● saith he, have a little Patience, the time is not yet elapsed, you need not be so hasty: I have a great deal of business to● dispatch, and that of Concernment too now when that is over you shall go where you please. In troth, saith she, don't tell me of business, I must go, and I will go, there's no necessity for my stay, I'm sure I can do you no service; and as for the charges, which I know is all your grie● and fear, I will pinch them out some way or other, though I abate it in House-keeping; This you do to persuade the world what a good Husband you are; but if the truth were known, you will be found to save at the Spigot, and let it run out at the Bunghole. The poor Man being thus Schooled by his Wife, must provide for this Journey, or else all the Fat's in the Fire; there will be no quietness, if she does not go abroad. Well the time is come, and they must set forward. Horses are provided, and a new Riding Garb for the Wife, he himself waits upon her, and must be as Tractable as a Spaniel upon the Road; his Wife is always wanting one thing or other; the Stirrup is too short, or too long, the Pillion is not well fixed, her Scarf flies off; the Horse Trots too hard, and makes her sick, so that she must light and take a Walk, than she must be helped up again, and this unnecessary trouble hath the noddy brought upon himself, besides the distillations that she is troubled with every quarter of a Mile, she having the Diabetes, and cannot hold water long. Being arrived at the place intended; she is discomposed with her Journey, and her stomach grows so nice, that it Kecks at such Course food, as Beef and Mutton, and she must have a Fowl to pick upon. Well away goes the contented Fool, and Trudges about the Town for some Dainty bit to please his Lady, cost it never so much; for you know, far sought, and dear bought is fit for such Cattle; and when he comes home, if his Marketting displeaseth her, than she as well as the rest of her Sex, falls fowl on the Good man, saying, in truth you are the strangest person that ever lived, not at all fit to Travel; not at all Complaisant, you know not how to oblige our Sex. The Patiented Fop hears all and bears all, being accustomed to such kind of re-proof, as the Tinker's Dog is to carry the Budget. After they have solaced themselves at this pleasant rate, as long as she thinks convenient, home they return, find all thing out of order, the Horse dead in the Stable, the Servants Gadding abroad after their own Invention, all their Money spent that he cannot buy any more, and therefore must foot it about his own occasions, and she will not set her hand to do the least chair in the House, till she hath had a Fortnight's rest after her Travelling; only go a Visiting, Chat with her Gossips, and complain of the unserviceableness of her Husband throughout the whole Journey. The poor Man he settles to work, endeavours to set all things to rights, takes a great deal of pains; and if any thing is in fault, he's hit in the Teeth with it; but if all things be well and in order, that must be imputed to her good management. In fine, she is so taken with her Country-Journey, that she is resolved to be Travelling once a Year, what ever comes on't, and he shall be at the Charge of it. Thus his Expenses increase with his Years, he is afflicted with the Wracking Gout, and (which is a worse Distemper) a Froward Woman, that makes the small Remainder of his days, comfortless; for she will Rule the Roast, must have her Will in all things, will be Mistress and Govern, whilst he stands only for a Cipher at Home, and at length thro' Grief and Discontent, becomes a mere Skeleton, and Languisheth away to nothing.   

The Ninth COMFORT. Old Age Insulted over.  
WHen a Man hath once thrown himself into the Net, or rather Prison of a Family, and taken a brisk Wife, than the Comforts of Marriage daily flow in upon him: This Wife you must understand is a Haughty, Proud Spirited Woman, and would fain Domineer over her Husband; but he being a Prudent Man, manages his Affairs with such Discretion, that she, to her great Grief finds, she shall never get the upper hand. Thus for a time he is Head of the Family, and Governs his Wife and Children with Credit and reputation; he is happy in a numerous Issue of both Sexes; hath Educated them all very well, and Matched them to good Fortunes; but mark what follows, when all this is done, being full of years, the Infirmities of Old-age at last seize him, and he is Fettered to his Chamber, by some Tedious and Chronical Distemper, so that he is not able to move or stir out of his Chair. Now the Domestic War gins de novo; the Wife will do nothing but what she pleaseth, though she was formerly kept under Hatches; the poor man is now her Prisoner, and at her Mercy; the Wife grows Surly and Saucy, the Children Masterless, the Servants Unruly; and if the Husband attempts to Correct them, she is ready to fly in his face for it. Seeing himself thus Abused by his Wife, Disobeyed by his Children, and slighted by his Servants, he takes it very much to heart: But that which Afflicts him most is the Extravagancy of his eldest Son and Heir, Bolstered up by his Mother, only to break the old Man's Heart, and make him end his Life Miserably. If he thinks of a Will, that he shall not be permitted to do, for fear he should bequeath somewhat to his Poor Relations, or be too Lavish in Charitable Legacies: Now the old Gentleman is Left in the Cold alone, unregarded, whilst she Gossips about in the Parish, and declares the Currish Usage of her Husband; had I not been (saith she) a Woman of a matchless Patience, I could never have lived with him half this time: but this is not all; for when she comes home she throws it in his dish frequently, and tells him now upbraidingly, that God Rewards him for it. The Good Man is resolved to Admonish her and her Children fairly, to see whether that will work any Good upon her, and to that end calls them before him: My Dear! you are the only person that I ever Loved, and yet give me leave to tell you that I am not pleased with your Carriage in many Particulars: You know I am Master of the House, and will be as long as I live (but, faith, Old Gentleman you are mistaken, quoth the good Wife softly and smilingly,) though I am not used like one at present: You know farther how I have ever Cherished you, as the Beloved Wife of my Bosom, and kept you as tender as the Apple of my eye, but neither you nor my Children have behaved yourselves as you ought to do. What would you have done? I trow, saith she, you are too well used, you do not know when you are well; there is nothing we can do to please you. Would you have us stand demurely before you with our fingers in our mouths? Not so neither, I do not deserve this Taunting Language at your hands. Then he turns to his eldest Son: Son, (saith he) I have made some Observations of your Behaviour, with which I am very much Dissatisfied. You are my Eldest Son and Heir 'tis true; but I see you Lavish away my Estate Profusely, with Profligate and Debauched Company: I have been a good Father, have Improved your Estate, and shall leave you a Plentiful Revenue, if you be Obedient and Dutiful, but otherwise, I swear by all that is good and Sacred, you shall never enjoy my Estate. What would you have him to do? saith she, one shall have enough to do to please you: Do you want for any thing? What would you be at I wonder? I never saw the Peer of you, I vow to God; you are neither pleased full, nor fasting. Pray Woman hold you your Tongue, and do not uphold him against me, though it hath been ever your way to do so. This done, the Mother and her Son lay their Heads together, and resolve to give out, that the Old Man is Crazed, grown a Child again, and make the World believe he is Senseless: if any one comes to speak with him, and asks the Good Lady for the Good Man; she presently Answers, Alas, Poor Gentleman! he is fast enough in God Almighty's Dungeon; and how came that to pass, Madam? God knows, Sir, for I do not, he is grown a Dotard, I am sure I have no comfort or help of him, God help me, and grant me Patience to undergo my Afflictions. Truly, Madam, I am hearty sorry for it. Thus is the Old Gentleman Concealed from the World, and Confined to his Chamber, so that he cannot Redress or help himself, nor undeceive the World of the wrong done him. This he must needs undergo with a great deal of Grief and inward Regret: but since he finds no other Remedy, he is resolved to bear it patiently. For my part, I look upon this to be as great a Torment as can be upon Earth, for a man to be well stricken in years, Diseased and Troubled with a Painful Distemper, Sequestered from all Friends and Relations, debarred of all Company, but such as rather add to, than diminish his Sorrow. Thus he Lingers away in Grief, Pines with Pain, Languisheth with Sorrow, lives Wretchedly, but I hope dies Happily; though my Prayers shall be, that Fortune would bring her to some shameful End, that occasioned it, and so Farewell, thou worst of Women!   

The Tenth COMFORT. The Fool Rewarded.  
HE that is once decoyed into the Net of Matrimony, must bear with his Misfortune as well as he can; for 'tis a hard thing for him to get out of the Nooz, when he is once fastened, as will appear by this ensuing Discourse. Our Married Man here, that is to taste of the Tenth Comfort of Marriage (much good do his heart with it) is but a Puny, Diminutive, Consumptive Animal, neither gifted with Weapons nor Activity to please a Wife; and she, after an Essay made of his Ability, complains to her Mother, that she cannot love him, he is so Lean and Meager, that it is as good lying with a parcel of Carpenter's Tools, as with him, his skin is so lank, and his bones so sharp and extended, that when he toucheth her in Bed, he pricks her like so many Needles, though not in the proper place, a life that no poor Woman can bear; she wants due Benevolence, and requires more Milk than he can give her, and therefore is resolved to Lapet elsewhere. Now the Solace of Matrimony gins to appear, Tantalus-like, she i● up to the Chin in Water, and can neither drink, nor eat those Apples that lie b●…bing at her Mouth; a sad condition for ● Hungry and Thirsty Soul: Abroad sh● roams, picks up the first Stallion tha● comes to Hand, and enjoys him as ofte● as she has opportunity. Stolen Water's ar● sweet, they say, and it appears so by thi● Gentlewoman; but the Mischief on't i● that by ill conduct of Affairs, her Husband discovers her Amorous Intriegue▪ spoils her Gaming, and corrects her severely for her Impudence; insomuch▪ that she deserts him, and goes to he● Friends, Complaining with feigned tear● of his Harsh Usage to her, and shows th● Marks of his severity to her Relations▪ who pity her, and curse him. This i● an excellent Comfort of Matrimony. Thu● Pleasure salutes him in the very Infancy of his Wedded Condition, and will undoubtedly continue to the end. However the Fond Fop, being deprived of his Wife, bemoans her absence every night in his Widowed Sheets, and is at a great loss for a Bed-fellow: He cannot endure this Life long, and therefore the poor Cornuto must send for her again; finding him in this Loving Pickle, Poor thing! the Bowels of her Affection wamble not after a Husband (having been all this while stewed in the warm Embraces of her Gallant) and procures her Mother to give out, that she hath been all this while under her Tutelage; then having an Opportunity to meet with her Husband, Rattles him sound for his Baseness toward her Daughter, telling him, that her Poor Child was forced to run away from him, because she went in danger of her Life all the time she co-habited with him: I had rather, saith she, by half, that you would turn her Home to me, and part good Friends, than to abuse her so as you do; and withal take notice that your Behaviour to the Poor Girl is enough to make her do what she never thought of, and make your Headache in spite of your Teeth, take that from me, Sir, since you are as you are. Being thus Lectured by the Mother, he seems to be very sorrowful, and hath a Month's mind to the Daughter; nothing will serve him, but he must have her again, and has her de bene esse, upon promise of Reformation. Overjoyed with the repurchase of his Wife, he grows kind even to Wonder, hops about with her from place to place, till his Money is all hoped from him, and then returns home with an empty Pocket, but a heavy Heart, God knows. Or else, if this Wheedle does not take, a Divorce is endeavoured on both sides to be procured, but for want of sufficient Cause of Separation, or by reason of a considerable Flaw in the Evidence, the Judge condemns them to live according to their Marriage Vow, and imposes a smart Fine upon them for their Folly; so that the Case is worse and worse, they are both doomed to a Loathed Bed, and a Life which an Idiot hath sense enough to avoid, rather than be so tormented, and expose themselves Ludicrously to the Censure of the whole World. Now if it falls out, that there is sufficient Cause for a Divorce, their misery is not at all abated; for they must never Marry while they live; and if they are not so Continent, as to forbear Venereal Divertisements, they must even run the risk of a Swinging Clap, and the loss of Reputation; so that by this means they are caught, and faster in the Net than ever; and if they are of a Noble Family, Rich in Lands and Possessions, than their Names are lost for want of an Heir, and they go out of the World with an ill stench, their Reputation being rotten before their Dust, and their memory is more nauseous than their Bones in the Grave. He is sorely troubled at the Bad Report of his Wife, and can go into no Company, but her misdeeds are displayed before him, to his Grief, and her own Shame, an Envenomed Tongue making a deep and incurable Wound; thus he sees himself the May-Game and Sport of every Flouting Fellow, and silently bears all that's thrown at him: every one has a fling at his Jacket, and the Gallants many at his Wife's Placket, who keep her under his very Nose, to the grief of his Heart, he pacing about the Town Acteonnized, and admired by the Boys and Rabble, a Torment sufficient, I confess, to discompose a wiser Head; but no matter, it is no more than he deserves, and all such contented Cuckolds: Let him live as long, and as well as he can, I'll not envy his Happiness, and when ever he Dies, I hope I shall die in a better, though not so contented a Condition.   

The Eleventh COMFORT. The Town-Fop with Flesh in his Pot.  
WHen a brave young Gentleman is at his own freedom, and has the World in a string, he may steer his own Course without care or control. This our Gallant here, we intent to mention, has a good Estate, keeps high Company, Caresses Handsome Ladies, giveth himself over to all manner of Pleasure, is his Father's only Son and Joy. At length this Spark meets with a Young, Comely, Brisk, Sanguine Complexioned Lady, who can never long withstand a Suit well managed with Judgement, and well-timed with discretion, (though every Woman of what Complexion soever will permit a Man to screw himself into her Constitution, if she likes him) he hath made many and tedious Addresses to her, laid close Siege to her Chastity, so that the poor thing is able to hold out no longer, but must yield up the Fort, grants his request, and exposeth herself to his roose Embraces.  
But the worst is to come, this is not all; the little viripotent Youngling of fifteen is Prolific, and proves with Child, for which there can be no other Remedy than Concealment, and as good luck would have it, the Mother had been in the Oven before, and understood well enough how to make the best of a bad Market, for the poor Girl knows not she is with Child, though the Mother does, and she has not long to reckon; she pukes every Morning, making strange Grimaces, and complains that her stomach is untoward, and out of order: Well! without all Question, saith the Mother, you are with Child; now mind what I am going to say to you; as for your Gallant I have forbidden him my House for ever, he being too mean a match for you; be sure, Hussy, you never open your lips of this unlucky Job (which came by Jobbing) to any Christian Soul, and observe punctually what I shall say to you. Did you never take notice of the young Esquire that comes here sometimes? yes, Madam, saith she; well, take special notice of him next time, and he has promised to be here to Morrow: Behave yourself discreetly, and show him a Pleasant Countenance: and when you spy me a talking with the rest of the Company, dart a favourable, fascinating Glance upon him, cast a sheep's eye at him, do you understand me, Girl? yes, Madam; observe my directions: if he will keep you in discourse, answer him Modestly, if he proffers you Marriage, return him thanks innocently, but withal give him to understand that you know-not what it is, nor do you desire to learn: If he offers you a present either of Gold or Silver, be sure you refuse it harmlessly; but if it be with a Jewel, Diamond, or Ring; do as Maids use to do, deny it modestly at first, say nay, and then take it. When he takes his leave of you ask him mildly, when you shall see him again? This Noble Blade is but an Inch of this side of a Natural, has a vast Estate, but a mere Town-Fop, whom the Mother will, if possible, work upon to Marry her Daughter, so that he is in great danger of being caught in the Net, and finely Bubled. Well! he repeats his Visits, as close as he can one upon the neck of the other: is very well received, splendidly Treated, and after dinner withdraws with the young Lady, and Compliments her apart from the Company, takes her by the hand, and thus (like a fool as he is) accosts her. Madam, I wish with all my Soul, that you knew but the thought of my heart. Alas! Sir, that's impossible, unless you discover them; I ●ope you think of no harm. Upon my Faith, not I, Madam, nor of any thing but what I would willingly have you know, ●nd that without my telling it. Truly Sir, saith she, and Ushers her discourse with a charming Smile: I cannot Divine, ●nd therefore 'tis impossible for me to understand you. If I thought, Madam, you would not be displeased, I would faithfully discover them. Sir, replies the Young Lady, you have your freedom to say what ●ou please; for I have so good an opinion ●f you, that I presume you can say nothing but what is Commendable and Civil. Madam, saith he, I am a Person, ● must confess, unworthy to Kiss your ●ands, and dare not presume to marry you ●eing a Lady adorned with all Nature's perfection: but if you please to do me that Honour, (expect no Ceremony from me, Madam) I dare boast from my Heart, that I ●ould love you with all my Soul, and that ●o man can love you better, nor serve you ●ith that submission and affection that I ●an and will, for I resolve never to forsake you, let what will befall me, and I shall be 〈◊〉 tender of your Reputation, as my own. ● return you thanks, Sir, saith she, but I be● seech you, cease your Discourse, do not har● upon that string any longer; for I know not what it means, nor will I learn, that ● flat and Categorical; This Discour● would offend my Mother, if it should read● her ear. Faith, Madam, your Mother ● a very good Woman; but, if you please● your Mother shall know nothing of it● I will be wholly directed by your Commands. Why do you say so, Sir, I am confident it would not be for your Good, neither would your Friends advise you to a● ny such thing: Pray Sir forbear this kin● of Talk; for if my Mother should hear i● I am utterly undone, here the Mother gav● her a Nod, seeing them both very earne● in Discourse, for fear she should Miscarry● and not Act her part well: Then the Ne● led Youth claps a Ring in her hand, an● begs of her to accept it for his sake; indeed Sir, I shall not; I beseech you, Madam wear it for my sake; well, Sir, saith sh● at last, since it must be so, it shall be so and I will wear it upon your accounted Then the Mother comes to him, an● tells him, to Morrow, Sir, we design t● ride a little way out of Town, to take ●he Fresh Air; at which he rejoiceth; ●hen the time of Departure is come, the ●usiness is so ordered, that there is never ● Horse in the Company carries double, ●ut the young Gentleman's, at which ●e is not a little pleased; so it falls out happily, that his Mistress is set behind ●im, who hugs the Pummel of her Saddle ●…r her own Security, I leave you to judge ●hether he likes his Company or no: ●…e Gentleman is very near the Net; for ●…is Journey was only undertaken to catch ●…e Young Widgeon; he keeps close to ●is Mistress; and when the Mother finds ●n opportunity, she inquires of her Daughter how squares go, and she tells her all: ●rom henceforward, saith she, Daughter, whatever you do, carry yourself discreet●…, if he talks of Marrying you, tell him, ●ou must acquaint me with it, but withal, ●…at he is the only Man in the World you ●…ve, and that you will never have any ●ut him. Then they take a Walk in the ●arden, than he takes her by the hand, ●nd says, Fine Lady! take pity of me, I ●eseech you: Pray, Sir, talk no more on't, ●r if you do, I will forsake your Company: Spare me one word more without offence, if you would be pleased to Crow● me with this Happiness, I should take ● for the greatest Honour that was ev● conferred upon Mortal. Sir, saith she, 〈◊〉 must be proposed to my Relations, or el● I can say nothing to't: If I thought the would approve of it, I would propose 〈◊〉 myself; for God's sake, saith the cunning Gipsy, have a care, that you do n● say a word of my proposing any su● thing, for I should die through shame, 〈◊〉 any such thing should be said of me; n● I, upon my Faith, Madam; and than 〈◊〉 way he goes to the Mother, and discou● says the business so respectively, that it 〈◊〉 concluded, and they make up the Mat● immediately; the sooner, the better, a● things considered, for Hans in Kelda● sake: Now the Poor Gentleman is ● the Net, and no body as yet knows of i● but at last it comes to the Ears of his Parents, who are grieved at the very hea● knowing it to be too inferior a Mat● for their Son: thus they are Wedded ● haste, and may repent at leisure; he w● Married without Licence, unasked 〈◊〉 Church, without any Ceremony; an● way in the World, so that the business ● once over. Well, night draws on, the Moth●… takes her Daughter to task, and instils some of her good, Motherly Instructions into her, relating to her Carriage with her Husband that Night: she charges her to put him to it as a Virgin ought to do; and farther, that as soon as he entered the Premises, with some feigned Reluctancy on her part, she must fall into a fainting shriek, as if she had fallen into a cold water in a hot fit. Thus she Tutors her Daughter to deceive the Young Fop. All things hitherto are very well, but mark what follows, there is a cursed sting in the Tail; for within two or three Months, the Young Bride groans, and falls all to pieces; it could be no longer hid, a Young Babe peeps into the World, and that spoils all. Now all the Joy is converted into Sorrow, and he knows not what to do with himself. He is quite at a loss: If he turns her away, the whole World will be acquainted with it, and he cannot Marry again, and for her part she will take care of one. 'Tis an ill Hen that can't scrape for one Chicken. If he keeps her and co-habits with her, she will never care a Pin for him, nor he for her, there will be no Love lost of either side, I'll be bold to say. Well! All is well that ends well, saith the good old Adage, and so say I too; but from such Comfort in the Close, from such an End as this, Good Lord deliver me!   

The Twelfth COMFORT. The Domineering Wife, and Contented Lap-Dog.  
AND a sweet one 'tis too, if you knew all. Our Youngster in this Case is one hath beat about the Net so long, that at last he hath found a hole to creep in at; and to be sure hath verified the Adage, fast bind, fast find, he has tied an Indissolluble Knot, but here is his Comfort still, that he hath Married such a Non pareille, such a matchless Wom● for Morality, Goodness, and Virtue, that she is not to be Paralleled in the Universe: He admires her Discourse, extols her Education, commends her Deportment, dotes upon her Face, is so Captivated with the Distinction of her Sex, that he is Ravished with his Choice, and boasts of his Prudent election; he is resolved to let lose the Reins of Government, and permit her to bear the Sway; nothing shall be done, but what has first the Stamp of her Approbation: She is his All, and He her Nothing, nay, you will find at last, that she values him little or nothing: He is as Tame as a Man, reduced by Phlebotomy to a weakly condition, and made up of nothing but Obedience. There's my Man (if he hath not forfeited his Manhood) as good a Husband ●s ever laid Leg over Woman. If His King and Country raise an Army to oppose a Foreign Invasion, he shall not stir 〈◊〉 Foot, unless she be in the Humour to ●ermit him, he shall not go to the Wars; ●or his Wife is too tender of him to let ●im be so long out of her sight; Hang 〈◊〉 he shall not March, lest he returns ●ith Grinning or Crippled Honour. Come, ●ome, Sweet Heart! saith she, 'tis good ●eeping in a whole Skin; you never was ●t out for Martial Erterprises; your Bo●… is too young and tender to be exposed 〈◊〉 the Hazard and Hardship of Ruffling ●ar: Let others purchase Renown, that ancy it, at never ●o dear a Rate, you shall ●joy yourself at Home in Peace and Quietness. Thus is the fond Fop absolutely Governed by his Wife, she has him fast, and will not lose an Inch of her hold If she has a mind to Juncket and Sport with her Gallant, he must to Bed, and then the Goose is laid to the Fire. Some times she puts him in mind of urgent Business, and then he must rise at Midnigh to dispatch it; or else she exposes him to a Journey, that she may have the bette● Opportunity to enjoy her Friend; or h● must rise all Hours in the Night to fet●… her a Doctor to cure the Stitch or Pain 〈◊〉 the Side, and expose himself to the injur● of the Wether, when in the interim shadmits her Gallant, who is so bold as t● Scale the Walls, creep in at the Window and a thousand such little Love-Toys, 〈◊〉 accomplish his Design and Desire. Som● times it falls out that her Friend 〈◊〉 Planted himself behind the Hang, an● her mischievous little Lap-dog smells hi● out, and she tells her Husband, they a● Rats and Mice that he Barks at, and perswades him 'tis the poor Cur's Custom 〈◊〉 do so; but at last she frightens him awa● with, Out you little Foisting Cur, what 〈◊〉 Noise is here with you? and than he snea● away like a dog that has burnt his Ta● She makes him dandle the Child to sleep, and sing a Nocturnal Lullaby to the Innocent Babe, while he like an Innocent Fool does it without Murmuring: she makes him carry the Distaff or Spindle, whilst she is cutting out more work for him: she spins a fair Thread at last, and ●e to his cost finds that, he hath brought his Hogs to a fair Market. In short, like a Spa●…el he is made to fetch and carry, when, ●nd what she pleases; the poor Fop never ●njoys a minute's rest or content, runs thro' 〈◊〉 World of Sorrow and Tribulation, and so ●et him, unpitied for me; for he seems to ●e created to no other End. He has brought ●n old House over his Head, which is pre●ntly untiled, if he speaks but one word ● contradict her: she has got the upper Hand of him, and 'tis now too late to re 〈◊〉 her: had he taken her down in her Wedding-shoes, there might have been ●opes of doing some good with her; but 〈◊〉 is in vain, nay impossible to work upon ●er now.  
Thus he grows Aged through Care, ●rief and Vexation, is slighted by his ●ame, like an old Falconer, or to speak ●ore properly, like an Old Wife (the ●orst of Creatures,) good for nothing. His (or rather-her) Domestic Affairs, he must not intermeddle with: she is the Domina fac totum; and if any of he● Daughters be Marriageable, she disposeth of them to whom she pleaseth, without his Consent or Approbation: If they are well Matched, well and good: if ill he dares not find fault with it, much less upbraid her for it. She plays the Wo● man exactly, and will have her Will in every thing, right or wrong, there is no● gainsaying, unless he has a mind to make the House too hot to hold him. Now Appeal to all Rational Men, what great Torment can there be to a Man that such a Ruling Houswise? what great Plague to a Husband than such a Do●… neering Wife? O the unutterable com● for't of such an easy, pleasant Life, whe● the good Woman takes all the B●the upon her own Shoulders, Manages a● Affairs at home and abroad, and he no● so much as concerned with any, live happily and free from the Cares and Tur● moils of a Wedded Life, Dies with Grie● and Shame, to see himself so Conquer by his Wife, and so sneaks out of th● World, quite weary of it, without pit● or compassion: There let him rest quietly in his Grave, that never did so in his Life-time, without Epitaph or Monument, but that everlasting one of his Folly, that he left behind him to Postetity.   

The Thirteenth COMFORT. The Wedded Widower, and Single Wife.  
THis Gentleman we are to treat of here, is of a quite different Temper from the last, who will not be Ruled by his Wife, but is of a Noble, Martial Spirit, and runs in pursuit of Honour and Fame. He is resolved to venture his Life and Fortune in his Prince's Service beyond-Sea, and in order thereunto first acquaints his Wife with his unshaken Resolution; she Embraces and Caresses him with Tears, in her Eyes: Alas! my dear, saith she, can you have the heart to forsake me and the Pledges of our Love, these sweet Babes? will you now desert me, and leave me and my Children to the wide World, Comfortless and Husbandless, when we have lived so contentedly, as Man and Wife, for some years together? My Dear! saith he, I must go, my Honour lies at stake, which is dearer than Life and all in the World besides. I must obey my King, or forfeit my Loyalty, and the Estate that I hold of his Majesty by Tenure to serve him in his Wars; but in Grace of God I hope to see you suddenly, if he please to continue my Life and Health, and he is best able to provide for you. Thus he takes leave of his Wife with a heavy heart, and she is as big with seeming sorrow at their parting; recommending her, and his Children to the Care and Tuition of his Friends. Assoon as he arrives at the Camp, he being an active, brave Soul, cannot rest without some attempt to signalise his Valour, and attacques the Enemy with so brisk an assault, that he clears all before him, so the Dispute continues hot on both sides a considerable time, but at last, stimulated by Honour and Glory, presses too far into the Body of the Enemy, and the Poor Gentleman has the misfortune to be taken Prisoner, and there is kept three or four Years, before he can procure an Exchange or Ransom to obtain his Liberty. His Lady is very Inquisitive after his Welfare, and at last receives some slight and uncertain Information of his Death, which she seems to take very Grievously, and falls into an excess of Sorrow; but certainly Women were not Created only to weep; besides inordinate Grief is prohibited and sinful. God be thanked, in a very short time this grief is over, and she is married to another. The entire Affection she had for her former Husband and his Issue is quite forgot and lost; all her fond Careffes and Embraces before, and at his departure, are buried with him (as she thinks) in Oblivion, without hopes of a Resurrection; she shows more love to the second than she did to her first Husband; but that fickle Baggage Fortune will have it so, that her Husband at length is Released, returns Home, though much decayed and broken by the severity of his Imprisonment, and the hard usage he received from the Enemy. No sooner arrived, but he makes diligent Inquisition after his Wife and Children, and the thoughts of their miscarriage, did certainly much aggravate the affliction and grief of his Captivity. At last he understands the dismal and unwelcome news of her Second Marriage: now judge you what a Confusion he is in at this stabbing Relation. The anguish of Priam King of Troy, when he was acquainted with the Death of Hector, was not certainly comparable to his; at last he comes Home, and is fully informed of all the particulars. What a Distraction he now is in may possibly be faintly imagined, but never fully expressed; what Course to steer, or how to grapple with this Misfortune, is a Controversy that cannot well be decided. What Revenge can he study suitable to her Crime? what punishment doth she not deserve to have inflicted upon her for Faithlessness? As he is a Man of Courage and Honour he can never be so Puny-spirited as to put up this Injury unsatisfied, nor can he buckle to so tame and unmanly a Condescension, as to re-admit her into his Bed, though her Husband should dispense with it. On the other side, he who Married her last must needs be very much disturbed at this unlucky Business, and having been satiated with her, must hate and forsake her, for Love and Empire never admit of Corrivals. And what a sad Case now is she in by her over-forwardness and Credulity? she has lost her Reputation; both her Husbands and her own Honour, hath buried all her Modesty in the Grave of Infamy, and exposed herself to the Virulent Tongues of carping Momuses; her Children will be afflicted and disturbed at the Misfortune of the Mother, the vexation of the Father, and consequently at the Infelicity of both their Parents.  
Thus they two, who might have lived comfortably all their days, by this unlucky accident, are like to live miserably, to whom length of days, the greatest Happiness on Earth, will prove their greatest Misery. Marry they must not, cannot, dare not: This is one of the  Comforts of Matrimony: One of the Enjoyments of a Wedded Life: One of the Pleasures of a Coupled Condition. They must live asunder without hopes of a reunion, he must die a Wedded Widower, and she a single Wife, an unhappy Mystery to both, and an unfortunate, though unheard of Paradox.   

The Fourteenth COMFORT. The Disconsolate Widower justly punished.  
HE that is senfible of this Comfort is one, who hath taken such pains to find a passage into the Net, that he is got in and ensnared by a young, beautiful, and well tempered Woman; and they enjoy their Delights and Pleasures without Contention or Disturbance; a happy life indeed, and such as might make a Man thirst after the Cup of Matrimony. They Caress one another incessantly, like two Turtles, for they are two in one united; and if the one is in the least Discomposed, the other Sympathiseth in the pain and Affliction; but these are Halcyon Days, too serene and calm to last long; for the Wife dies suddenly, and puts a Period to all their Amours and Happy Enjoyments. The Young Man grows very Disconsolate, bewails Night and Day the Irreparable Loss of his Wife; sometimes complaining of Death, and other times of the Capriciousness of Versatile Fortune, Nature's Whirligig, that is always turning, and never fixed or settled. Thus for some time he lives in Misery, shuns all Society, abandons all Comfort, ruminating upon his Misfortune, the Deprivation of so good and kind a Comfort: He dreams of her continually, thinks of her without Intermission, and loves her Memory. But it is as true, as old a saying, nullum violentum est perpetuum: Sorrows are short, that are sharp and violent. But after all, this our young Gentleman though he hath been once catcht in the Net, and freed, must be so Foppish as to venture a second time, and is baited into it again, to his great Grief and Discontent: by a Widow, who is a Person of a quite contrary Humour to his former Wife, of a middle Age: First she carries herself very demurely with tolerable Discretion; but at length, when she hath sufficiently pried into his Temper, and throughly understands his Constitution, than she gins to show her Teeth, and play upon his sweet Dispesition (a Fault too incident to that Sex) brings him to her bow, and manages him to her best advantage, she studying nothing but her own, not his Satisfaction: And certainly there are no such Vassals in the worst of Servitude, who are so enslaved, as simple Young Men, when linked to Widowed Women, especially when they are of a Cross and Sordid Humour; and he that is so unfortunate as to be reduced to this Extremity, has no other Redress, but to pray to God to grant him Patience to undergo this weighty Affliction; if that won't do, his utmost Refuge is to have recourse to a Silken Halter, and so strangle himself together with his Misery. Now she gins to appear in her Colours; she grows Jealous of him (the very Bane of a Married Life) and is so insatiable that she is dissatisfied, if he be but a minute out of her Embraces, cannot endure him out of her sight, and every Woman he casts an Eye upon, he lusts after. When Widows meet with young Flesh, they cherish it, because it renews their Strength and Vigour; and there is nothing more Noisome, or prejudicial to a Young man's Health, than a Lascivious, Draining, Old Wife: Yet I look upon an Old Man to be the greater Bruit of the two, who Smugs and Trims himself up with all Artificial Ornaments to make him appear Youthful, and then Marries a Young Girl: That is a most intolerable piece of Vanity, a Foppery neither to be allowed, nor imitated: His Nauseous Breath, proceeding from the corruption of Decayed Lungs, must needs offend beyond Expression; Coughing, Sneezing, Spawling, Groaning and Spitting (though not a word of spitting in the right Basin) must needs be very unacceptable to Youth, if not Odious and Loathsome: But to return to our Young Gentleman, taken in the Net a second time (the greater his Folly) his Wife grows so greedy after Man's Flesh, that she could find in her heart to turn She-Canibal, and devour it she is stark mad with Jealousy, and if he goes to Church with never such Real, Pious and Devout Intentions, she suspects he has some Sinister and Wicked Designs. I am apt to believe, there can be no Real Love without some smack or spice of Jealousy: for certainly no Man or Woman would match themselves to a Creature, who had no good Quality, or Parts to create an Inclination in a second Person towards them, that would betray the Foolishness of their Choice; but this sort of Jealousy, or rather Suspicion, occasions no Domestic Feuds, or Household Jarrs, because it is only an Excess of Kindness or Affection; but that which creates a groundless Suspicion and Diffidence of the Party beloved, and ends in Brawling and Contention, must needs be the worst of Plagues, and the Cursed Sting and Torment of Matrimony. If these be the Comforts of a Married Life, let me enjoy my Liberty and Freedom in a single State, and live happily without Dissatisfaction or Disturbance. I do not in the least blame the State of Matrimony, mistake me not; but the Rash and Precipitate Election of those Hotspurs, that run headlong into that Condition without deliberate Consideration. Hypocrates, the Famous Greek Physician, hath a smart saying, and very pertinently Applicable to our young Gentlemen, Vetulam non novi, cur morior? I never Wedded an old Wife, and why should I die? it had been well for him, if he had laid this Sentence to heart, and matched himself to one of his own youthful Temper, than he might have lived happily and contentedly, though here we must take our leave of him, gasping for his last Breath in a wretched and deplorable Condition.   

The Fifteenth COMFORT. The double Cajoal.  
THis is a great and Prodigious Comfort, a Comfort that cannot be expressed significantly. Our Married Man here chanceth to meet with a Woman who is much addicted to the shaking of her Elbow, as well as of her Tail, two good Qualities in a good Wife, and the good Man is like to thrive upon't. This course of Life she leads for a considerable time undisturbed, because undiscovered, but at length he finds his Estate decay by her expensive Gaming; suspects her Fidelity, and is resolved to watch an opportunity, to discover, if possible, her Amorous Intrigues: And one day, as Fate would have it, he enters her Chamber privately, and surpriseth her in the very Action, or in a very suspicious and wanton posture. The Husband incensed with Rage and Fury, cannot contain himself any longer within bounds, but flies at her Gallant with a design to make him breathe out his last upon the Spot, but as he is striking at him, his Wife, kind Soul! (as it behoves her; for she ought not to stand by, and be guilty of Murder,) comes and embraces her Husband; Ah! for God's sake, my Dear, have a care that you do not hit an unlucky Blow, and be Guilty of Bloodshed; whereupon the Blade clears himself of his intended Assassin, and shows him a fair pair of Heels; 'twas well he was nimble-footed, or else he had certainly been sacrificed to his Fury; but Fear and Gild have Wings as well as Love, and in short he makes his escape. The Husband pursues him, but to no purpose; for he hath secured himself by Flight: whereupon he returns like a Hungry, Rampant Lion into the Chamber, thinking to meet with his Wife, and make her his Prey; but alas! the Bird is flown. Now what think you is become of this Unfortunate and Disconsolate Woman? why she is fled to her Relations, and acquaints them with all these Passages in a Mournful Dialect, with some seeming Regret. At this Relation all the whole Family is in an uproar; sometimes blaming him for his Severity, but her, most of all, for her Impudence and Indiscretion. The Wife palliates the business to her Mother, at the first, but upon strict Examination Confesseth with Sighs and Tears the whole matter (the Mother understanding very well how to manage a Cause of this Nature, who had herself been guilty of the same miscarriage, though with more Privacy and Secrecy, without Injury to her Reputation by so Palpable and Notorious a Discovery) Well! they meet and consult how to smother the business, and by Menaces on the one hand, and Entreaties on the other hand, to reduce the easy natured Husband to a better Temper, and by all means possible, to patch up a Reconciliation, and make Peace between them. In order thereunto, first they tamper with his Chambermaid, a Procurer d'Amour, a Procuring Bawd, or Female Pander to her Mistress' Lust, and they ask her how it is with her Master, since this unlucky Disaster? To whom she replies, he is in a very desperate, discontented Condition, hath taken no sustenance at all since that Misfortune happened, nor had any Rest or Sleep to Refresh him. When he sat down to Dinner, this Day, he did not swallow so much as one Morsel, his Stomach was too weak to entertain food; then he sits as Melancholy as one that is Hypocondriacal; has a ghastly, wan look, as if Grief had drunk up all the colour of his face. Sometimes he wrings his Hands, shakes his Head, bites his Finger's ends, takes his Knife, and sticks it in the Table, and afterward throws it away with great Indignation. Then presently, on a sudden, starts up and takes a Promenade in the Garden, but returns with a distracted look, before he hath passed thirty Yards; he can neither sit nor stand still one minute in a place; Night and Day he sighs, bemoans himself, that it would extort pity from a Barbarian, to see him in this sad Condition. Well! at length, after some time elapsed, when they Judged the storm was somewhat over, and that he was grown more cool and temperate. Some of the most forward and crafty of that Female Gang of her Friends and Relations attack the Husband, like the Northern Wind, blusteringly, and the Tempest being over, strike Sail, and discourse with as great Moderation and Subtlety, commending his Wife for her Virtue, Modesty, and Piety (a pious Devil indeed) and that they have known her for several Years to live like a Modest Wife, with an unstained Reputation, obedient to your self, respective to her Neighbours, and civil to all Persons of both Sexes. Now for you openly to defame her, to the ruin of her Honour, upon some imaginary surmise, is unkind, and injurious in so high a nature, that you can never make her amends: besides, Sir, let me be plain with you in a business of so great Concernment, say, or think what you will, to my own certain knowledge, two persons may be closely engaged in Discourse together, in a very friendly posture, and yet not do the thing that you imagine, nor ever so much as entertain a thought of so Disloyal and Immodest an Action, as to defile their Husband's Bed. What he might, like a bold Ruffian attempt, I will not here dispute, that is none of my pretence, but Foreign to the matter in hand; yet this I'll confidently aver and maintain against all opposition, that there is no Man breathing, that your Lady hates like this Villain, who hath so rashly brought an old House over her Head; nay, I am satisfied in my Conscience, that she would sooner see him suffer the most Ignominious Death that ever was executed upon the most Notorious Criminal, than permit him to touch her in an uncivil way. Let me persuade you to consult your reason, and not thus ruffle and discompose yourself with a mere Chimaera or Fancy; the poor Woman is so swelled with Tears, that she hath scarce an Eye to peep out of, wrings her hands, bewails her condition, and laments without intermission, the displeasure you have conceived against her; it lies in your power yet to make up the business, with a Salvo to her, and your own Reptutation; for long she cannot continue in this languishing condition, and I hope you do not thirst after her blood, that were Inhuman and Unchristian. Come, come, Sir, let me tell you, you must foget and forgive, if there were (though I see no) cause for either, upon your Wife's account: Besides, do you think, if your Wife were a Dissolute Woman, a Woman of tainted Reputation, that we would undervalue ourselves so much, as to keep her Company? No, no, never cherish any such thought in you, for that were to stab our Fame and Honour, as well as hers: Nay, Sir, I must tell you farther, I have been acquainted with her from her Childhood, and am so far from knowing harm by her, that I dare maintain, she has been the Pattern of Virtue in this Country. What, saith the Husband, will you persuade me out of my Senses? I saw it with my own eyes. In good Faith, 'tis no such thing, say what you will; the Senses are fallible, for want of a proper Medium, or through some weakness or imperfection in the Optics. O Brave Dame! well Philosophised, I protest: we use to say, Seeing is believing; but in this case, it seems, a Man must not believe his own eyes. Well! the Husband gins to be of a more Sedate and Serene Temper, and considers with himself, that Jealousy casts a Mist before the sight, and makes a Man see double, or very imperfectly: So now he is resolved tamely to put up all wrongs, wipe his mouth, and be silent for the future; the Women smile to see the Business so well managed, promise to bring them together again, and take their leave of him for the present. Thus the facile Gentleman is convinced of his Error, and very much troubled, that ever he entertained such a Thought, and so he receives his Wife again, and all things are buried in their mutual Embraces. Now what think you will be the Issue of all this? she upon this grows Insolent, and hits him in the Teeth with his Recognition and Acknowledgement, upbraiding him with the Injury he hath done her. The Gallant and Neighbours must be Treated with a costly Collation to put up the business, and now they may enjoy themselves without Control, her Friend Canesses her, and she him, one good turn, you know, deserves another, and Ingratitude is the Blackest of Crimes. Thus she is a Lady Paramount, consumes his Estate with Gaming, wastes his Body with grieving him, persecutes his Soul, till it takes its flight, and so at last, loaden with Years and Cares, is wafted over in Charon's Ferry, to the Elysian Shades; and there's an end of his Misery.   

The Sixteenth COMFORT. The Poor Man's Comfort.  
NOw we are come into the Teens, and past thorough the better half of our Matrimonial Solaces, we will discourse a little of this Sixteenth, which is a poor and pitiful Comfort indeed; for here Penury and Pertinacy are Wedded together, as well as Man and Wife, both of them are Children of the Mean Mob, Profane Vulgus, or what you please to term them, mean in Parentage, as well as in Parts and Purse, he but of ordinary, and she of no extraordinary Mold, yet in time, after some Years Co-habitation and Cooperation, they are blest with a Numerous Company of brats (Chargeable Blessings indeed, and fit for the Parish to maintain than this Couple) they Drudge, Moil, Toil, and do all that can as yet be required, but by and by you must be rounded in the Ear with another dismal Story, and you know very well, or at least I will inform you, that it is an old Proverb with the Phlegmatic Butterbox, when any thing is done effectually and to purpose, they say, 'tis performed as poor men get Children. But to proceed, if they prove negligent, the craving Appetite of the Bawling and Prattling Babe will soon weary them into a remembrance of their Parental Office, in providing for their Family, since they were not so cautious as to make Provision before they engaged themselves rashly in that incumbent Duty. Thus the Good Man after a hard days Drudgery, having been at it before the Sun appeared in our Hemisphere, and continued it till he is gone to bestow his kind influence upon the Antipodes, who when tired Nature requiring some Refreshment, he sits at one end of the House like the Image of a Slovenly Mechanic, and she like the sluttish Effigies of Charity, with one Child at her Breast, a second in her Lap, a third upon the Ground, grasping her Knees, and the rest about them crying for Bread, bawling for Drink, screaming to be undressed, gaping and yawning to be laid to sleep: (a charming noise, and ravishing harmony no doubt, enough to drive a man out of his wits, for not having so much previous wit, as to consider it before) thus they have both their hands and heart full, God help them, he Rocks ●e Cradle, and she feeds the hungry ●mily, and all little enough to satisfy ●e grumbling of their craving Maws. ●aving been thus, for some Years, soused with the Comforts of Matrimony, ●e gins to find his Wedded Life irk●me, which makes him neglect his Af●irs, slight his Business, Charges still ●creasing, and Trade decaying, now he ●s taken heart, and is resolved for the stir to make use of the too common ●ode of these times, to turn a Good allow, frequent the Tippling-house ●ore than formerly, and his Shop less; ●y if his Stock will at any time reach 〈◊〉 he will to Tavern, and there sing ●d Rose, till Night and the Constable, ●ho Summon all to go to their Rest and ●abitations; then he Reels Home with emptiness in his Pocket, Rage in his ●ooks, and Vexation in his Heart; ●nd there he meets with a second Ren●unter worse than the former, from his ●ife (a Domestic, but sometimes ●tameable Animal) Well Thomas! ●aith she) dost thou think that I am ●le to endure this cursed Life? or can ●u imagine, that I must be confined 〈◊〉 Home, with a parcel of Children about my ears without Bread and Drink to put in their Heads, whilst you are Revelling abroad Night and day, among your Sottish Companions: I cannot bear it any longer, but am resolved to go abroad too, and then do you take care and provide for the Children: I'll learn out your Haunts, and find you out if you are above ground, ne'er fear it; and and then assure yourself, I'll Ring you and your Drunken Associates such a peal, as shall soon break up your Company. He being heated with Drink, and naturally a surly, sour Fellow, lays his brawny Arms upon her, and corrects her for her Scolding, insomuch that she is forced to keep House for a Week or Fortnight, to prevent the battered black and blue Livery of her Eyes and Face from being discovered by the Gossipping Neighbourhood; he in th●●nterim gets up in the Morning, and away to the Alehouse to refresh himself, and torment her at Home for her last Nights Work. Now he's grown irretriveably lost, as to his Trade and Family, works very little, and that more for outward show than any thing else, is grown so bewitched to his new Gang of pot Companions, that he has taken resolution to Rant, Tear and fling the Helve after Hatchet; ●ut Money he must procure by one means 〈◊〉 other, to maintain him in this Debauched Course of life, partly by his ●wn Inclination, and the repeated Per●asions of his beloved Friends; then the household Movables must march off, ●nd be engaged for the supply of his Extravagant Expenses, till there are no ●ore to move out of the Cottage. The ●oor Woman at Home seeing all going 〈◊〉 ruin and destruction, grows Impatient at his Miscarriages, and resolves ●pon her Dernier Effort, to make her ●ords good (as she had formerly pro●nised) she in a Rage flies out, and is ●pon the quest to find him and his Haunts; 〈◊〉 last, by some information, or possibly ●y mere Accident (for Wives are very ●ccessful in conjectures of this Nature, ●ven to admiration) she hits on it, and 〈◊〉 she dances with this Salutation to the people at the Bar, Is my Husband here? ●es, in such a Room; away she goes, ●nd assoon as ever she enters, finds ●hem at the height of their Mirth, smoking, Drinking, Singing, Swearing, ●nd what not? but that which exasperates her most, is, a dirty Doxy Tippling among them, as impudent in her Behaviour as contemptible in her Garb, bu● like will to like, Jack will have his Gill, and Joan is as good as my Lady. Impatient at this Baggage, that toucheth he● Copyhold so closely, the Hurrican is nigh at hand by black Clouds of he● Countenance, and with a Volley of upbraiding words, such as Jade, Whore, Bitch, what dare you keep my Husband Company, to the Ruin of him and his Family? Then follows a Broadside o● Pots, Cans, Candlesticks, Pipes (and here the destruction of Pipes becomes the Generation of Stoppers) and 100 to one, if in this sharp Counterscuffle n● great Mischief be done, she certainly gives the Gentlewoman some slight Mar● of her Honesty, which she certainly carries to the Grave. In this confused Scene of Rage and Fury, the surprise doth a● bash the whole Company (but more particularly her Husband) insomuch, tha● they use all possible smooth Language t● pacify her Wrath, which with much ado is effected by discharging the Wenc● privately by the conveyance of som● back way, and so break up the Company Now he knows not what course to stee● (for he's satisfied he shall never enjoy a quiet minute with her for the future) unless it be to Barbadoes or Jamaica (the usual Receptacle of Debauched and Cracked Artificers) which he soon effects, and so at last, having sold all that he hath, sells himself too, packs away, and is gone the first Wind that serves for his turn; leaves his Children as an inheritance to the Parish, and his Wife to the Alms house, if they will be so Charitable, as to do it, considering her Misfortune. Thus you may soon guests at the issue of this Comfort of Matrimony: the Wife has left this wide World to beg in, but only the expectance of a single Parish to maintain her: the Husband is transported into another World, where through a stream of Excess and Intemperance, with the heat of the Climate, swims into a third, in a very little time, and so dies a Slave and Stranger, imperiously insulted over whilst alive, and when dead, quoited into a hole, without the least Mourning, or indeed so much as Christian Burial   

The Seventeenth COMFORT. The fatal Couple.  
AND this will appear to be mor● strange and incredible than al● those that preceded, by reason of its Villainy, and the fatal consequences thereof. Here a Gentleman of good Learning and Education, but better Fortune, who by the consent of his Parents is disposed of to as Opulent a Gentlewoman, and every way correspondent to him in Youth, Parts and Portion: he Caresses with hot and frequent Addresses of Love; wishes that he might grow to her Threshold, that he might have the more frequent Fruition of her never-enough admired Society; she returns answer to all his fervent Applications, with a most becoming and charming Modesty; so that upon the strictest Observations of their mutual Deportment, nothing can be discerned but a Matchless Amorous Passion between them reciprocally. When a convenient time is thus sported away, by making their Amours, the Nuptial Ceremony (after preparations necessary in Affairs of this Nature) is Celebrated, (and nothing but Joy and Comfort seems to attend their Cohabitation) which for continuance of time, delicious Viands, luxurious Wines, together with all sorts of other Liquors, Balls, Music, Jollity, and other Diversions, indeed for plenty of all things, besides the numerous Train of Invited Guests, Servants and Attendants, was never exceeded; nay, 'tis yet a question unanswered, whether ever equallized in this present, or some preceding Ages. After the Ceremony of Solemnization is over, they Love as affectionately, Live as splendidly, as their Port can possibly bear (and further too, as you will speedily be satisfied) in their Country-Castle, during the Refreshing and Healthful Summer, to enjoy the benefit of the Air, the Pleasantness of their Evening Promenade, the delightful Prospects of the Meads, Pastures, Fruitful and Delightful Fields of Corn, and all those inexpressible satisfactions that usually attend the serenity of a Rural Life, and when wearied, or rather refreshed with these Pleasures, return to their City-Apartment; either for the Management of Affairs, or the enjoyment of the Variety and Choice of the more Gentile and better sort of Company. Here they both soon obtain by their Parts and Pence, Acquaintance of all Sorts and Tempers, so that 'tis impossible in such a World of People, but they must necessarily meet those that comply with them in temper and humour. To Plays, Revels, Masquesat Court, they daily resort, and to other Places, when they receive Information of them; so that there is no Public Treat or Diversion can possibly escape, and in small time, gaining great Acquaintance, and that with great Ones too, according as the times, he must needs Rencounter, as well as his Lady, with no small or trivial Temptations. After they have steered this course some years, the Real Estate sinks and impairs too too sensibly, and which is worst of all, they both prove Improlisic (and possibly the Curse of Barrenness is the punishment of their Debauchery) so that by a strange kind of unusual, though mutual consent, he procures a Chargeable Miss, and she an Expensive Gallant, he shakes his Elbow, and she her Tail, and in process of time, they become equally experienced in both these fashionable Qualifications; so that in some few annual Revolutions, the Estate consumes, and moulders away to nothing, by Mortgages and vast Debts contracted, the Retinue is turned off for want of Means to support them, as formerly, House-keeping laid aside, and the Movable Goods pawned or sold outright, to maintain them. Upon this, being seared and grown obstinately Profligate and senseless of their Vanity and Impiety, through customary sinning, they consult how to repair their consumptive and almost expired Fortunes, by Injurious, Illegal, Base and Sordid Actions, which at length bring them to a shameful Catastrophe, being both too haughty and high Spirited, to live in a low and despicable Condition; therefore he turns Pad, and she Buttock and File, (that is Highwayman and Pick-Pocket-Whore, in plain, honest English, according to the Canting of the Roguish-Crew) into which they are now admitted and matriculate. Well! what think you follows these wicked Resolutions, to take up a wicked course of Life? why, you may soon guests, though Fortune seem to favour them for some time, success seldom smiles long upon such wretched Undertakers, but usually brings them to Condign Punishment. Possibly, after some perpetrated Villainies, the Product of their as yet successful Crimes may furnish them with a Stock, in ca●… of unavoidable necessity, when the● are firmly catched in the Net of th● Law (as formerly they were in that 〈◊〉 Matrimony) This may prevail once o● twice by a Lucky and Chargeable— bu● this proving no caution, but rather a● encouragement to repeat their forme● Courses, they go on as vigorously a● before, and by skulking in private holes, and obscure recesses, stave themselves off from the strict inquisition o● Justice; but at length, (for now thei● Wicked Reign is near its period) som● crafty Officers, accustomed to be employed in such Affairs, and by th● means of some injured person, allure● thereunto by the promise of a goo● Gratuity, searches diligently, find● them suddenly, and, by the necessary of a Justices Mittimus, conveys the● immediately, without Bail or Main● prize, to a Loathsome and Fatal Gao● The Seisions are now at hand, and they in a Panic Fear, that they shall no● come off, being conscious of their Gild: Well! to a Trial they are brought, and their Indictment containing the Crimes for which they are accused: they then have recourse to Newgate-Evasions, Presbyterian sham's (I mean Lying and Dissembling) and such kind of insignificant Trifling with the Court, who, tired out therewith, direct the Jury (who never Read Ignoramus) and they, upon a full Hearing of the Evidence, bring them in Guilty: Upon this, Sentence of Death is pronounced, and they are sent to their last Habitation here, as fast tied by the Executioner here, as they by themselves formerly. The Warrant being Signed for their Execution, and the day appointed, (there being no hopes of a Pardon, having already despised and abused that Grace and Favour) they are acquainted therewith in order to their Preparation, to undergo the deserved and unavoidable Punishment of the Law, Death. The Fatal Morning appearing, they are made ready for their last Journey, to their long Home, and so disgracefully Carted to Tyburn; where by the way, being as notoriously known, as they were notorious in the Transactions of their Life; some (who have Charity) pity them, many (who have suffered upon their account) Curse them, and most blame them. This is a hopeful Comfort of the Tie of Marriage, which brings them at last to be Tied up by Catch, both indissoluble Knots, except untied by the cold hand of Death. Thus you see though the Sunshine of the former part of their Life seemed to be possibly glorious, 'twas at length overcast, and though they might have lived happily, did in the latter part live wretchedly, and died ignominiously, so they might say of themselves, as the Poet did, with little Alteration— 
Per varios casus, & tot discrimina rerum  
Tendimus in Laqueum—   
Thus, with them, ends the Seventeenth Comfort.   

The Eighteenth COMFORT. The Misery of forced Marriage  
NOW (with this which is the last, and too many, unless they were better) we shall run through a petty Jury, and a half, of Pretty and petty Comforts too, though this exceeds all that is prementioned, and may afford some Diversion, but far more Admiration and Astonishment. The Story is as followeth, which wants neither Truth, nor Authentic Authors to maintain it. A Gallant and Heroic Gentleman, altogether Martial, a Noted Commander, and of a very Ancient Extract; it was his good Fortune, as he innocently and probably conjectured, to make his Addresses to a Young Beautiful Gentlewoman, (but see how that Fickle Baggage Fortune puts tricks upon Credulous Mortals) and after they had made and received several Visits, and so united themselves by the Amorous Chains of Passionate and Unfeigned Affection, that they thought nothing but that Cruel Destiny Atropos could separate them. But it fell out, and very unluckily too) that the Lady's Parents, (whose Eyes are always prying into such Intrigues) by some means and rewards to encourage the Discoverers, to prevent their design, shuffled up a Match between their Daughter and a very great Heir, with Menaces, Threats, severe Usage, so that weary of their Carriage towards her, she was at last compelled, though with unimaginable regret, and great reluctancy, to embrace the Person she had an absolute indisposition, unfitness of mind, and aversion for, ever likely to hinder the many Benefits of Conjugal Society, namely, Peace and Comfort; but it is Decreed by a Law as unalterable as that of the Mede● and Persians, that she must undergo thi● insupportable weariness. The Gentleman, who in truth was, or at leas● ought to be her Husband, endeavours to make way for an Interview with her, bu● finding all means ineffectual (she being so closely mewed up, (another Comfort of Forced Marriage) by her Eagle-eyed and Jealous Husband, insomuch that nothing could be transacted, bu● he must necessarily find out, for Zelotypiae nihil impervium, Jealousy is to ● quicksighted to be disappointed by any endeavours whatsoever, whereupon he resolves to take other measures, and therefore in great discontent (seeing he could not possibly procure the sight of the so much admired and beloved) he quits his Native Country to Travel in quest of some Comfort in Foreign Parts: We will now leave him in his Journey, and return to see how this new Married Lady bears her Affliction. She poor Inamorata, though disappointed of enjoying the Sole Object of her Love, (what a cursed Humour is this of Parents, for a crammed Coffer to confine them to the Land of Affliction?) cannot be debarred the Privilege of thought, and therefore to manage that with the greater Prudence and Privacy, she affects Retirement, and there bewails her Misfortune in the enjoying this man, as well as in the utter Loss of her absent Lover (which proved too true at last, to her own destruction) thinks hourly of the blissful and harmless Embraces of her Valiant Mars, the mutual and innocent Protestations that passed between them at every assignation, the Poems, Acrostics, Anagrams, and the whole Artillery of Love, that they used between one another. This was her sole delight, her dally pleasure, and all the contentation that she ever enjoyed in her Matrimonial (though unfortunate) Condition: and though all these private Solaces were shrouded with all Honest and Modest Contrivances, yet her Carriage to her Husband did not seem so obliging to him, as he thought he might deserve, and therefore could impute it to nothing but unto the sudden disappointment of the Gentleman, who formerly Courted; who would certainly have studied to procure his Destruction by some means or other, but that he knew he had deserted the country, and went a way Incognito, so that there was no great Fear or Probability of his coming to caress his Lady; but alas! he is mistaken; for his End is by superior Power otherwise appointed. And now let us return to our Traveller; when he arrived at the place, there happened to be War in those parts, who being Magnanimous and Martial, (having lost his Lady, scorned his Life) he went immediately into the Wars, and was entertained according to his Desert and Quality; the Enemy being near at hand, he accoutred himself for an Attaque, which he did attempt with that Briskness and Valour (among those in the Front) that nothing but one stimulated by Love, and a Contempt of his Life and Person, could ever have so valiantly performed; but behold the unlucky Chance of War! He in this over-Manful Assault, received a Mortal Wound, to the great grief of those who were spectators of his Valour and Courage, whereupon he was immediately brought off, and conveyed to his own Lodgings; where arrived, he languished some little time, and a little before his Death, he called an Ancient Servant to him (whose Fidelity and Truth he had often experienced) and told him, that he had, at this juncture of time, a weighty Business to unbosom to him, and intrust him with, conjuring him by all imaginable, obliging Expressions and Desires to see it effected, which was as followeth: I am sensible (saith he) that I am very near my Expiration, and therefore after my Death, procure some Surgeons to open my Body, take the Heart out of my Breast, and put it into an Earthen-Pot, that it may be Baked to the consistence of a Fine Powder, and having so done, put it into a handsome Box with this Bracelet of Hair, that he had worn about his Left Wrist (being a Lock of his Lady before mentioned) then place it in the Powder, together with this little Billet or Note, written with my own Blood to her, and after you have bestowed upon me the Rites of a Decent and Christian Burial, make all possible speed to her in her own Country, (which you know very well as well as her place of Residence) and deliver the said Box to her own hands. The Old, True Servant, did perform all that his Master had given him i● Command, and so departed; arriving with great Expedition, at the Country and Place designed by his Master; and coming one day to her House, he unluckily, though unexpectedly was surprise● by the Lady's Husband, who knew hi● very well, and that he was Servan to that Gentleman who formerly mad● Applications to his Lady; and he examined him with a Brow-beating severity, and finding him timorous, and he sitating in his Discourse and Repli●… made no more ado but ransacked hi● and found the forementioned Box i● his Pocket, with the Note, which specified what was contained in it; h● Husband upon this dismissed the Ag● Servant with Menaces, charging him never more to approach his House upon his own peril, and so the poor Servant departed reinfecta, and his Master's Commands uneffected, tho' by Misfortune (as he thought certainly) disobeyed. The Gentleman thereupon speedily reenters his House, sends for his Cook, and delivers him the Powder, and withal charging him to make some small savoury Dish of it, without losing the least particle of it, upon the forfeiture of his absolute displeasure, because it was a very costly Cordial, and commanded him to bring it in himself after the last Course at Supper; and the Cook did so accordingly: as soon as it was placed on the Table, he ordered all Persons to quit the Room, which was no sooner said than done; and so began to enter into a most serious Discourse with his Wife; how that ever since his Marriage, he observed her Dejected, Melancholic Carriage, and he did very much fear, that it was occasioned by some inward Consumption, therefore he had made provision of a very Sovereign Remedy, which he was very well satisfied would cure her infallibly; thereupon he made her eat it all up, and when she had so done in obedience to him, very earnestly importuned him to discover what it was, who told her for satisfaction at last, that she had eaten her first Courtier's Heart, so drew the Box out of his Pocket, and showed her the Note and Bracelet, at which in a sudden Transportation, ushered with a deep sigh, said, This is Precious indeed, and licked the Dish clean, saying, it is so Precious, that 'tis pity any other Meat should be taken down after it; thus she went to Bed, and made good her words; for in the Morning she was found Stone-dead.  
Now I presume you are satisfied with the strangeness of this unparallelled Comfort, the mere effect of a Compulsive Marriage against Reason, Sense and nature, to the Ruin of their own Daughter, and the Death of a Worthy and Valiant Gentleman, tho both to be commended as much for their Fidelity and Constancy, as the Parent were to be blamed for their Violence and Covetousness, though she had at last the two Hearts joined together, inspite of Father and Fate, yet upon my Heart I cannot away with this kind o● Cannibal-like and Unnatural Conjunction.  
Thus we have done with these Eighteen Comforts of Matrimony; and I call them Comforts, because those that are Married think them so, and will not be persuaded to the contrary, though I look upon them as the worst of Misfortunes. I do not, nay I dare not say, that every Married Man tastes of all these Comforts; But I will affirm this for truth, that there is no wedded Person living, how Wise and Cautelous soever, but is sensible, at the least, of one of these Comforts. Nor on the other hand do I say it is ill done to Marry; but it is not well done certainly, for a man to be so Stupid and Insensible, as those we here Discourse of apparently declare themselves to be, and so are enslaved with a self-procured Bondage. I would not willingly disoblige the Female Sex, nor indeed do I, if read without Prejudice, and rightly understood, the Contents of this Treatise, tending much to their Honour and Commendation, in all which Rencounters the Women win the day, come off Triumphantly, and Man is most shamefully worsted by the weaker Sex: and 'tis but reason it should be so, considering the Wrongs that they suffer by the Oppression and Severity of their Husbands, by Violence, and without Reason; only because they are not of so Robustous Constitution, and are sent into the World with no other Weapon but the Tongue, nor any other Defence but their Chastity, though daily exposed to the crafty Assaults of Wily Man: Nature having sent them so weakly Armed into the World, it is a prodigious shame, that Men should so barbarously insult over them, who are so ready to serve and obey, without whose Society the World would soon be a Desert, nay Men could not, did not, nor cannot live happily.   
FINIS.   

Some Books lately Printed for Matthew Gillyflower, at the Black Spread Eagle-in Westminster-Hall.  

THe Complete Gardener, or Directions for Cultivating and right ordering of Fruit-Gardens, and Kitchen-Gardens, in six Books, by the Famous Monsieur De la Quintinye. To which is added, his Treatise of Orange-Trees, with the raising of Melons, omitted in the French Edition, made English by John Evelyn, Esq;  
Cabala, Mysteries of State and Government, in Letters of Illustrious Persons and Great Ministers of State, as well Foreign as Domestic, in the Reign of Hen. 8. Q. Eliz. K. James, and K. Charles. To which is added in this Third Edition, a Second Part of Choice Original Letters and Negotiations, never before Published.  
Fables of Aesop and other Eminent Mythologists, with Morals and Reflections, by Sir Roger L'Estrange.  
Brownlow Latini Redivivus, a Book of Entries, of such Declarations, Information, Pleas in Bar, and Abatement, Replications, etc. contained in the First and Second parts of the Declarations and Plead of Richard Brownlow, late Chief Prothonotary of the Common Pleas, (unskilfully turned into English) now Published in their Original Latin, with Additions of Authentic Modern Precedents, under every Title.  
The Essays of Seigneur de Montaigne, in three Books, with a short Character of the Author and Translator, by way of Letter, written by the Marquis Halyfax, made English by Charles Cotton.  
Plutarch's Morals, Translated from the Greek, by several Hands, in 5 Volumes.  
Kalendarium Hortense, or the Gardner's Almanac, directing what he is to do Monthly throughout the Year, and what Fruits and Flowers are in prime. To which is added, a new Conservatory or Green-house, with many other useful Additions, by John Evelyn, Esq;  
Memorials of the Method and Manner of Proceed in Parliament, in passing Bills; with the Rules, Customs, and Orders of the House, gathered out of the Journal Books, from the time of Edward the 6th, by Hen. Scobel, Esq; Cler. Parl.  
Remembrances of Methods, Orders and Proceed in the House of Lords, Extracted out of the Journals of that House, by Hen. Scobel, Esq; Cler. Parl. To which is added, the Privilege of the Barronage of England, both in and out of Parliament, Collected by John Selden, Esq;