Book*lUb I PROS AID CONS, FOR CUP IB and HYMEJrf^ IN A SERIES OF METRICAL SATIRIC DIALOGUES. EXHIBITING THE HORRORS AND DELIGHTS OF BEING OVER HEAD AND EARS IN LOVE; WITH THE SUPREME FELICITY AND WRETCHEDNESS OF MATRIMONY. TO WHICH ARE ADDED, SEVERAL OTHER PIECES. —/ BY JENKIN JONES, Author of " Hobby-Horses," and " The" Philanthropist ;" and Editor of " Love and Satire." 11 Pro and Con by Turns.". „... PRIOR, " Cave de Nuptiij." TERENCE . " These are the charming Agonies of Love, whefe Miiery delights." THOMSON. m ♦' # PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY M, ALLEN, No, 15, Paternoster-Row. ' 1807. * TL. TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE LORD VISCOUNT MELVILLE. MY LORD, -Having experienced many marks of your goodness, I embrace with peculiar satisfaction this occasion of presenting to your Lordship a public testimony of respect and gratitude; and though, while I offer, I can- not but perceive the inadequacy of such ac- knowledgments to express the feelings I am anxious to convey, still, as I have no other mode of testifying my deep sense of obliga- tion, I request to be indulged with the per- mission of inscribing to your name the present humble little Volume. "While I venture to entreat a lenient consi- deration for the many imperfections of the following Pieces, let me assure your Lordship they were chiefly written under circumstances highly unpropitious to all literary under- takings. DEDICATION* Engaged in melancholy" occupations that doomed me, in the worst of climates, a per- petual witness of distressing scenes — compel- led, in sickness, to contend with duties that tried me far beyond the measure of my strength — exposed to all the dangers and the perils, and annoyed by all the hardships, ills, and disagreeables, inseparable from my situa- tion, I felt much need of consolation, and sought, in literary relaxation, an abstraction from those anxieties, and a relief from that in- sufferable tedium peculiar to the wretch who languishes in exile from his native country. If a perusal of the following trifles, thus written to assuage a weight of cares, afford your Lordship entertainment in a leisure hour, I shall derive from that consideration a most genuine sense of satisfaction* I am, with great respect, Your Lordship's much obliged And grateful servant, Xerimngton JENKIN JONES. I 1 to, 9, loU/t CONTENTS. ,P PAGE A reface to Pros and Cons 5 Dialogue I. O'er Head and Ears in Love 57 II. Welcome Flirtation 66 III. The Cure" 73 IV. Love's Exile g- V. Why don't you marry ? 93 VI. Why did I marry? I03 VII. Deuce take my Spouse .*. II3 VIII. God bless my Wife 12 g Phaon to Sappho rr 139 Boileau's Eighth Satire, freely translated I45 The White Man's Gratitude, a Negro Tale- l6l Dialogue IX. On leaving School , , „ Lines to the Memory of Lord Andover I9J Address to a Crooked Flute '. Iq g To a Lady-Bird 201 Prologue written at the Re-opening of the Bombay Theatre 206 Epilogue spoken on the same Occasion by Major Hawkes • 205 Lines written in a Cave 210 How to make Love ••••■•••••»• 212 CONTENTS. PAGE Elegy 215 Burlesque Prologue to Venice Preserv'd .*■ 217 Burlesque Epilogue to the same • 220 Elegy •»••• 223 An Address spoken at the St. Helena Theatre 225 Lines to the Memory of Mr. George Manage - 224. An Occasional Epilogue in the Character of Tom Thumb 227 Lines written in a Garden, adorned with Monuments and Inscriptions, where the Bust of Dryden stood alone neglected 228 The Earth-King 229 The Air-King 231 Julia's Bower ■ • 247 Lines written in a Music-Book, half devoured by Mice • 249 To a Mother, who mourns her Son who perished in a Hurricane 250 To a Snail • 253 Elegy upon a beautiful White Norwegian Cat, called Tom Vinegar 256 How to lose a Dinner 259 How to get a Dinner • • 265 The Last Resource • 274 Verses upon a Prize Epigrammatic Theme, given out at Westmister School, by Dr. Smith 276 Epigram 278 Upon the Marriage of Mr. Bird, aged 70, to Miss Lamb, aged 19 ....... , jbia. CONTENTS. PAGE Epigram on Clara's intended Marriage with a Fop * 79 Lines to an Ugly Prude „ g The Comparison 2 g To ProfessoF St rt, on his Comparison 283 To the same « How to find a Man at Home jfoj Lines to an Egotist and Vain Boaster 2 g- The Retort Courteous t 2 g fi French Epigram ag Imitated * Q9 The same Parodied •, • . " To Err is Human 1 ' k ^^ To Ho Pe 29 o A Drunkard's Apology ERRATA. Page Line io 27 for my Preceptor.1t/4j, read my Preceptor is alas ! ao friend. 22 4 < — ci divant, read ci decant. 59 11 — of the Pit, read in the Pit. 60 20 — critict, read critics. 67 4 after the Speech of Nannette, read that of Biddy. 78 23 for childless, read childish, 80 1 for CON3. Yll the instruction of travellers, in order that they may choose the routes that best befit their taste or inclinations, when disposed to take excursions to the land of wedlock. These, with becoming diffidence, and all due deference, I now take the liberty of sub- mitting to the consideration of the public ; hoping my little volume may prove as accept- able to the moral, as Mr. Patterson's great book of the roads proves useful to the physi- cal traveller. But instead of going on with my Preface, I shall now beg leave to substi- tute the following Epistles, being both appli- cable to the subject : the first written by a young recluse, ignorant of life ; the second "by a person more acquainted with the ways of the world. b2 V1U PREFACE TO JULIUS, a Lad from the Country, to MARCUS, a Man of the Town.. SIR, JLhere are many cases in which learned youths are not ashamed to consult the opinions of men possessing little erudition, but extensive knowledge of mankind, Never was there a being more secluded from society than I have been; but as I am just emerging from the obscure solitude to which the cruel prejudices of a tyrant sternly doomed me, I am anxious now to fit myself for the delights of social intercourse — how to qualify myself so as to converse upon a par with persons ra- tionally educated, appears extremely difficulty these sad reflections, Sir, afford me much cha- grin, and self-humiliation ; for, to confess the truth, with all my learning, I begin to feel myself a most untutored savage. Will you he so obliging as to consider me a Bear, and have the kindness to begin taming me as soon as possible? for asT burn with a desire of mixing much in company, I wish to learn so to be- have myself, that 1 may not get severely baited. PROS AND CON*. IX I have been recommended lor this purpose to study Chesterfield, but as I have been inform'd be declares every man that laughs is a fooi; that every woman will swallow down a dose of flattery, however nauseously compounded; and that no gentleman should be a musician ; I conclude he must be either a fool, a madman or an ignoramus, for giving cou ncils, thorough ly repugnant to the principles of nature, taste, and reason. I therefore shall not trouble him for his tuition, wishing to be polished by a hand that will not rub out all good natural feelings, obtund my poignant sensibilities, and wear out all my principles. I have already acknowledged the deficien- cies under which I labour, and my incompe- tence at present to appear in civilized society. I casually hinted at the cause of being such a savage, and now beg leave more fully to ac- count for it. Losing my parents in infancy, I was consigned to the care of a distant relation, who in his meridian of life retired from society in deep disgust, and to confess a melancholy truth, became so tinctured with misanthropy that he renounced all commerce with the world. He was a scholar, and to superintend my edu- cation became his only occupation. I was strictly limited to works of science, and grounded well in the classics, mathematics, mechanics, natural philosophy, and natural b 3 -X PREFACE TO history. I should observe, though, that I was permitted only to read such Latin, Greek, Italian, French and German authors, as simply wrote on science. Bion and Moschus, Homer, Horace, Virgil, and more particularly Ovid and Anacreon, were proscribed. As I was debarred the reading of such books as treat on men and manners, and had no living com- panion but my Guardian, I became as ignorant as a beast of this world, and all its transac- tions. To convey to you some idea of the tutor under whom I was brought up, I beg to mention one brief anecdote ; for I think it may afford a comprehensive notion of his cha- racter. As we were one day walking over his grounds, I found the fragment of a letter written by a Father to his Son: it was couched in language the most truly pathetic and affec- tionate : it contained many remonstrances urg'd with benignant mildnesss, and pregnant with most lively proofs of tender care and fatherly affection. I felt a train of new-born sentiments engendered in my mind, my soul appeared to undergo a revolution. I was alike delighted and affected, and felt a tear stream down my cheek as I inwardly exclaimed, " Would I had such a friend and father. My preceptor, alas! was no friend." The reproaches contained in this letter seemed to have been called forth by the com- plaints of a tutor, who had represented hia PHOfl AND CONS. XI pupil as obstinately averse to all instruction. The father endeavoured to awaken the sensi- bility and stimulate the pride of his son, by representing the contemptible figure he would make amongst his companions, if he neglected to acquire that knowledge and those accom- plishments which are necessary to qualify a man to live in civilized society. After enu- merating the various branches of a liberal edu- cation, he recommended, amongst other things, the studies of history and geography, not only as pleasing sources of relaxation from more laborious pursuits; but also as attainments in- dispensibly requisite for every gentleman. Here ended these paternal instruction*, for the remainder of the letter (so little was the wri- ter valued) had apparently been used as fed-* der for a fowling-piece. As I felt the utmost reverence for this benevolent and philosophical preceptor, I was resolved to treasure all his Valuable admonitions in my breast. I felt gra- tified to think that my education tallied pre- cisely with his advice, as far as it related to the acquirement of sciences and languages ; but I was much confounded and chagrined to find myself kept in total ignorance as to some most material branches of a gentleman's edu- cation. I communicated my feelings to my guardian, and entreated I might be furnished with means to accomplish myself in such at- tainment^. To my request, urged with much b 4 X*l PREFACE TO eagerness and importunity, the misanthrope made this reply: " What, Sir, you wish to multiply your studies, and increase your knowledge by reading histories, and poring over maps and globes. I shall consent to no such wanton waste of valuable time. What more can you learn by perusing histories of men, than I have long since taught you? What, but that from the creation of the world they have been ever base, tyrannical, and treacherous; vindictive, cruel, and deceitful: that they are even growing worse in these de- generate days, and go on deteriorating in a degree of progress'on that keeps pace with the increase of knowledge, y/ealth, power, and civilization. Are you not satisfied to be as- sured by me that men are villains ? As for geography, I cannot comprehend why you should wish to study it. What behoves it you to know the various boundaries and rela- tive positions of countries, that are infested with innumerable hordes of savages, with whom you never are designed to hold the smallest intercourse? You, like myself, are doomed to live in ciose seclusion from the world, and your knowledge of geography shall never be ex- tended beyond the limits of that domain on which we now exist. Your studies are already sufficiently numerous and important. Your pursuits are such as should exalt you to a contemplation of a glorious Creator, and de- PliOri AND CON?. Xlll tach you from the consideration of men, his most unworthy creatures. The cultivation of your understanding shall be conducted under such limitations as good sense and prudence dictate; and I beg to assure you, that I am anxious to bestow on you not the education of a gentleman, but that of a philosopher/ 9 Under such a tutor was I brought up in so- litude, and I may therefore well be pardoned for my excessive ignorance of life. I have lately become my own master, and by the decease of my guardian, find myself possessed of a good fortune, but not of one desire to spend it like a misanthrope. I abhor solitude, love so- ciety, and mean to enter into the world as soon as I learn how to behave myself in it. Dur- ing my seclusion in the forest, I was never in the company of women. I was taught to be- lieve them still worse than the men, and told they were worthy only of such transient ad- miration, as paintings, statues, flowers, or butterflies. Since my emancipation from cy- nical solitude, I have been in company with many beautiful young ladies. I wish I could find language to depict the wonder and de- light I felt on these occasions, as I had been led to believe them ignorant, frivolous, hard- hearted, and perfidious. Judge my astonish- ment, when I found them possessed of know- ledge, candour, feeling, wit, sensibility, and genius; judge my amazement, when 1 wit* b5 XIV PREFACE TO nessed a display of excellencies, talents, and accomplishments that absolutely struck me dumb with admiration. And are we then (said I to a good old lady, who from compassion to my case, has kindly honoured me with her protection) are we so blessed as to be permitted these divine enjoy- ments? has Providence allotted us such angels for companions? O could I but obtain the love of a creature so beautiful, so worthy, so ado- rable as Julia: might I indulge the hope, that I shall one day fold her to my heart, make her the wife of my bosom, and end my days in her beloved society? Heavens! what would be my happiness? O! madam, how the bare idea of such bliss now makes my bosom throb with extasy. I was desired to moderate my transports — told to be less warm and more rational ; but I confess I feel no inclination to be governed by this reasonable cold advice. Why am I ordered to restrain this exquisite enthusiasm? Why am I counselled to discourage an attach- ment to the fairest object in existence? What! cease to worship Julia! would I could love her, Sir, a thousand times more fondly, but that's impossible; yet, if I could I would, because she merits it. I confidentially made known my situation to a youth of my own age, acquainting him at the same time with the advice of mv kind PROS AND CONS, XV patroness; he says, she's a hum-drum old maid, and knows nothing about love. I don't comprehend what he means by hum-drum : I looked in my lexicon, dictionaries, and gradus, but could not find out such a word. I told him so next time I saw him. He said I was a simpleton — a word of which I too well know the meaning. In pure simplicity of heart I come before you, and request you will receive me as a pupil, as I know I shall be edified by your instructions. You are con- versant with the ways of the world, have studied men and manners, and are able to im- part urbanity to rustics. By great good fortune I lately fell into your company, in a party of which you are the oracle. I was particularly delighted with some observations you was kind enough to make on love and marriage ; and ever shall regret the interruption you suffered by the entrance of a frivolous coxcomb, whose im- pertinent loquacity prevented all further at- tention to rational conversation. If a, jack- ass was to plant himself under a parlour- window, and set up his hideous brayings while we were employed in listening to the singing of a beautiful young lady, John the footman, armed with a good sound cudgel, w r ould soon be made to sally forth, and drive away the nuisance; — if a cur should steal into the room, and begin to yelp while some XVI PREFACE TO gay wit was regaling the company with tales of sportive mirth and brilliant flights of fancy, would not the cur be taken by the tail, and thrown out of the window ?— Yet was this half-ass half-puppy of a man permitted, for two hours, to stun twelve rational creatures with his insufferable babble. Why was he not thrown out of the window? — Why did they not send for John to cudgel him? — How I lament to think that such vile pests are suffered to infest society ! I could not help drawing a comparison in my own favour, and thinking how much better it is to be a hear, than such a canine assinine poor ani- mal as this. I mentioned this coxcomb to the good old hum-drum ; she confesses that when she first came home from boarding- school, she was a great admirer of such crea- tures, if they happened to be drest in gold- laced coats, and wore cocked hats with fea- thers in them; but now she despises them, and considers them the most insignificant of all God's creatures. I replied that the world allowed them to be insignificant ; but I contended that the phrase is ill applied, as they are most expressively significant of folly, ignorance, and pride. But let us return to the affairs of Love and Marriage, with which you seem so conver- sant. Let me request you will be so good as to enlighten me by communicating your PROS AND coirs. xvu most valuable opinions on these interesting subjects. Pray let me be directed by your sage experience; for ifi truth I feel how much I want a monitor; and you I cannot but consider as a second Mentor. My good friend the hum-drum old lady, although I cannot divine the motive by which she is actuated, does nothing from night till morning but advise me not to fall in love with J ulia ; and 1 from morning till night can think of doing nothing else. If I continue falling in love so fast, I shall soon be over head and ears; for an impetuous torrent of this charm- ing passion, Sir, already inundates my heart. I recollect a cross old gentleman, in a large wig, said, the result of his experience had induced him to entertain two most decisive opinions upon Love and Matrimony : the first was, that no man should inconsiderately per- mit himself to fall in love; and the second was, that no man who had the least conside- ration, would ever think of marrying. You, I remember, asserted, that a man was often liable to fall in love before he had time to consider any thing about the matter. This opinion fits my case exactly. There are other instances, you said, in which a man, con- trary to all considerations, is frequently com- pelled to fall in love, in spite of his teeth. This does not fit my case at all ; because I love Julia without any spite whatever. XV111 PREFACE TO Various opinions were then successively given upon the conditions of lovers and mar- ried persons. Some considered them the most happy, and some described them as the most miserable beings in existence. I am led to conclude then that there are many Pros and Cons for Love and Matrimony, As I judge you to be so fully qualified for such an un- dertaking, I wish you would be kind enough to state them. For my own part, I have not at present the slightest idea of any Cons on these subjects ; I am Pro-loving as long as I live, and Pro-marrying as soon I can — my dear, dear Julia! Pray do not, therefore, advise me to desist from loving her ; for if you do, I certainly must disobey you. Believe me ever, Your most obedient pupil, Julius Sylvanus* PflfOS AND CONS. XIX MARCUS, a Man of the Town, TO JULIUS, a Lad of the Country. DEAR SYLVANUS, 3l our genuine simplicity of cha- racter, and the painful peculiarity of your situation, strongly recommend you to my pity ; and the more so, as you do not ap- pear by any means to comprehend the full extent of your calamities. Alas, Sir, how lamentable is your case ! You are in love : already you exhibit symptoms of that dire disease. All that your preceptor did for you, ex- cept that of dying and leaving you a good fortune, was to make you a philosopher— a character to which you now retain no claim. Love dispossesses you of all pretensions to this venerable title. Cupid, in two or three casual interviews with a fine girl, has undone what a most accomplished misanthrope and learned cynic was so long performing. To what a melancholy situation are you now reduced ! — XX PREFACE TO To love, and be a philosopher, comes not within the bounds of possibility. The phi- losopher is an indifferent character: a lover is quite different. You are in love ; you are un- acquainted with history and geography — your preceptor did not learn you how to be a gen- tleman. These circumstances reduce me to no small dilemma, inasmuch as I am under the necessity of civilly acquainting you, that as matters now stand, you are neither a gen- tleman, or a philosopher. With respect to my attempting to tame you, I consider such an undertaking would be now superfluous ; I shall have no occasion, I believe, to cudgel you, or put you on a muzzle: you are in noble training. Love is your only tamer of wild beasts. " Cupid, like a Mameluke, can vault on the most wild and vicious horses— can harness tigers — mount the Nemoean lion— or what comes roundly to our point at once, can ride a bear : so that you see you are in excellent hands. Courage, my friend ! as far as it respects the process of taming, your affairs appear in a most pros- perous condition. There are even grounds to hope you may attain some politesse, and soon be made to mend your manners. Perhaps the Loves may introduce you to the Graces: I have heard that even bears, when in love, are so refined as to evince indubitable proofs of their good breeding. TROb AND CONS. XXI With respect to your polishing, it will, I trust, he soon performed without the assist- ance of Chesterfield's rotten-stone, or bring- ihg your good feelings to the grindstone. I make no doubt, Sir, but you know the value of an ounce of well-wrought steel in England, which can be made far to surpass in worth an equal weight of gold. I take it for granted, that you are fully acquainted with the mode of bestowing upon steel a bril- liancy that makes it vie in splendour with the eyes of Julia, and the jewels of Golconda. You likewise know, that man is compound- ed of the four elements, some of which are now discovered to be no elements at all; but perhaps you don't know that this earthy, wa- tery, airy, fiery, compound (yet sometimes simple) creature Man, bears a singular affinity to the above rough metal, inasmuch as he is alone capable, like steel, of receiving the last polish from the hands of a woman. In vain may Parr or Vincent, learnedly heavy, ham- mer off our rust; in vain may the gentle Ge- rard Andrews, the most mild and excellent of classical preceptors, strive " Lima et Lahore" to smooth us down " ad angiiem" ; in vain may he bestow on us a mollifying portion of sound erudition, and imbue us with a share of his own " Svaviter in modd" ; in vain the efforts of this most accomplished gentleman and scho- lar; in vain also the elaborate attempts of Sir XX11 PREFACE TO John Hop, the dancing-master, to give us the last polish — we can alone receive it from the hands of the Ladies, Bless your stars, then, my good ci-divant Philosopher, for having thrown you into such admirable hands as Julia's; for I doubt not you will admit w T ith me, that her hands are the most delicate, soft, white and beautiful that ever mortal eyes detected in the act of playing on a harp : — here let me curb the wish I feel to lavish praises on your mistress, for I desire not to augment with pangs of jealousy the manifold luxurious tortures, and dear " delightful miseries" with which an amoroso is so charmingly tormented, You desire me to accept you as a Pupil, and give you some schooling in the affairs of Love and Matrimony; but while you ask for my advice, you have no hesitation in declar- ing, that if you don't relish it you won't take it: this, Sir, is treating me as a man serves his apothecary, but be not alarm'd, I do not advise you, like the hum-drum old lady, not to fall in love with Julia, because you have already done so. What's the use of saying to a man take care, don't fall, when we already see him sprawling in a kennel. As you was almost over head and ears yes- terday, I conclude you will be quite out of your depth before to-morrow : should that be the case, and you can't swim, the Lord help PROS AND CONS. XXIII you! if Julia feels no inclination to be thus overwhelmed, and through obstinacy resists all persuasions to fell in love with you. I advise you to get out of love with her again the best way you can, as being in love by one's self is very dull. You say you believe many Pros and Cons may be urg'd upon the subjects of Love and Matrimony. There is indeed as much Pro- ing and Con-ning with some lovers, as coo- ing and billing with others. Some deliberate couples resemble Hilpa and Shalum* (who play'd at shilly-shally some few scores of years) and others do not resemble them at all. As you are unacquainted at present with tlliy M! Lii*3 u.i£uaaicuco bnuo AAAtt,/ uc auvalicecl as dissuasives to Love, and are, in fact, only able to enumerate the Pros, I shall just set down, for your edification, a select number of Cons, being unwilling to burden a young pupil with too many examples, which might render his first task too difficult. CONS IN LOVE. The horrid certainty that the beloved ob- ject loves your most detested rival, and has just exchanged a promise of marriage with him. * Vide Spectator, Vol. 8, Nos. 584 and 585. XXIV TRKFACE TO A full conviction that the woman for whom you languish, is one of the most hateful beings in existence, and not possessed of one domestic quality. A thorough knowledge that the object of your affections is, in the main, a very philan- thropic being, who, from the imperious ne- cessity of an unconquerable antipathy rejects your addresses, and hates nobody in the whole world, except yourself. A timely discovery that your mistress has nothing admirable about her but her face and person ; that she makes herself a public gap- ing-stock; and openly encourages at the same time the attentions of as many suitors as thilik fit to offfS their addresses. A discovery that your mistress is so con- stituted as to be incapable of loving any thing but herself. A discovery that she is as poor as yourself; That she is a scold ; That she is an incessant talker, An abominable slut, An intolerable glutton, An unparalleled miser, A determined spendthrift, An incorrigible drunkard, A notorious harlot. Any one of these cases frequently deter- mine what is called a prudent man to decide, point blank, against continuing to love his PROS AND CONS. XXV mistress : but there are many others who remain unconvinced by all these strong dis- suasives, and who incontinently, not only go on loving, but calmly make up their minds to marry such mistresses as soon as possible. Lovers of this description have sometimes been called foolish, imprudent, and infa- tuated ; others deem them bold, generous, charitable, liberal— or consider them illus- trious philosophers, w r ho have greatly tri- umphed over ail the vulgar prejudices of a narrow education. It has been mentioned, that besides these two decisive kinds of lovers, who make their minds up to Courtship and Marriage slap- dash at once, there are some fluctuating, in- decisive, shilly-shally, dilly-dally kind of fel- lows, who stand Pro-ing and Con-ning for half a century, before they come to a determi- nation. I once Pro'd it and Conn'd it with a young lady myself, and adopted a method of so doing, that has been considered rather in- genious. As you have dubbed me your tutor, and I have formally accepted you as a pupil, it becomes my duty to instruct you to the uttermost : being determined to ini- tiate you into this secret plan of Pro-ing and Con-ning our mistresses, 1 shall, at no distant period, put you in full possession of the ne- cessary apparatus for effecting it ; and amuse XXVI PREFACE TO you in the interim by a relation of the cir- cumstances that first gave rise to my inven- tion of it. Being pressed by a relation whom I could not well displease, to pay my addresses to Constantia Fickle, a coquette of some note, I forthwith began courting her secundum ar- tem ; and in process of time was very strongly urged to marry her. I wrote for counsel, on this occasion, to my wise old maiden aunt, Pru- dentia Ponderwell, and received the following answer — " To marry is easy, to unmarry dif- ficult—weigh the matter well !" Being much pleased with this excellent advice, I went pondering to bed, determined to weigh the matter well before I got up again. I accordingly began balancing at such a see-saw kind of rate, that I soon was rocked to sleep; and being wholly under the in- fluence of peculiar impressions, and surren- dered to the dominion of Fancy, I still pur- sued, in dreams, the object of my waking speculations. I dreamt my good old aunt, Prudentia appeared to me, and gave me the plan of a certain weighing machine, with full directions, so to construct it, as would infallibly enable me to weigh the matter well. I rose, delighted with my dream, in the truth of which I placed unlimited confi- dence, because I had dreamt it three dis- tinct times. I immediately went to work, PROS AND COX*. XXVll and fabricated a most ingenious machine and two sets of weights ; for the exclusive privi- lege of selling which I hope some day to hold the Royal Letters Patent. I made two scales, one of pure virgin gold, and one of lead : on the golden virgin scale I embossed the word Pro, and on that not fabricated out of virgin metal I indented the word Con. I then caused two sets of weights to be constructed out of similar materials : on those of gold I stamped virtues, perfec* tions, and agreeables ; and on those of lead, vices, imperfections, and disagreeables. When I had thus got ready the necessary apparatus for weighing matters, I began picking my mistress's soul and body to pieces as soon as possible — a process that could not have been performed had we been Turks ; this you will readily allow. However, being de- termined to weigh my mistress's Christian soul and body, conformably to my new- invented plan, I went on most coolly, de- liberately, and even-handedly to do so.— Into the golden Pro I threw all her virtues, perfections, and agreeables; and into the leaden Con I thrust all her vices, imperfec- tions, and disagreeables : and having weighed every thing with the most faithful accuracy, I proceeded to draw up the following state* ment of the account. XXVlll PREFACE TO PROS. Pounds 128 18 36 128 117 3,500 3>93° Ounces I 9 9 1 1 9 6 2 Drams I 3 3 4 «»• 7 4 r Scruples Z X X % I Grain* Profession of Anabaptism "-I TToifh ....4 ».. • si 18 1 Generosity to Lap-Dogs Tenderness for Cock- ) fparrows •$ " m T9 Wii* ....... 4 "1 •f Negative Chastity, the ^ fcale full, precisely e-r quailing in wdght that C of her whole person * 18 A beautiful Roman Nofe A pair of great Ears for ? Music ••' 5 An agreeable Person,""* subject to various de- 1 ductions specified on p the Per Contra side J of the Account J Her Fortune, estimating *) each Pound Sterling at r a Pound Troy * Total Pro 114 •** * It is curious enough, that 24 Grains mould just correspond with a Pennyweight, and thereby make Miss FickJe correspond exactly with the old Proverb* as upon the most accurate weighing she proved to be " Penny wise and Pound foolish." 4 I was surpris'd to find her large share of this commodity, when submitted to the necessary tests of-^practical Philosophy, exhibit such a degree of the negative, and as it were Proing and Conning principle. PKO.S A2HD CONS'. XXIX CONS. Superstition Credulity Ignorance • Folly Selfishness Pride Caprice ■ Scandal Impertinence Loquacity Fashionable Infidelity Laziness Sluttishness Fibbing Coquetry Drinking A false Heart A long foul Tongue An overgrown Spleen *A grumbling Gizzard A freckled common- place- look been Rom great A pair of ogling Sheep's Eyes A bald oblong Head, very;) light, considering its thick- ^ ness A «orrel-coloured Wig A Wen deducted from an ? agreeable left Shoulder S Extravagance Gaming •* • Total Con--- PuviMla Or. Ur.'.uii >crup* 128 9 3 128 9 3 128 9 3 I •- 12$ 9 3 ... iz8 9 3 ... X18 9 3 1*1 9 3 • *• 128 9 3 ... 118 9 3 ... 128 9 3 ... 118 9 3 ... 128 9 3 ... 118 9 3 128 9 3 3 ... X 5 3 ... ... 3 ... ... ... 1 2 ••• ... ... 12 ... ... ... 2 ... ... X 10 ... ... 2 ... 7 ... ... 6 ... X 14,000 20,000 ... ... ... 1*551 5 X I Cons 35,555. s. 3. Pros 3»93°' *« 4- 1 sir; Graiw* 16 ll iS . iS I* iS 18 iS 18 iS iS 18 iS I* «i «si Cons 31*6^5. 2. 7. o. TT Baianee against Miss Const. Fickle. * According to the reports of Anatomists, in some Women thit Organ is found wanting; notwithstanding many of them, during hie, have told their fricads they felt things sticking in their GUzaUs. C XXX PStSFAC-K T-O Haying thus well weighed the matter, and finding such a formidable balance against my mistress, I was not at a loss how to decide. Be- ing fully satisfied the degree of love I felt for her was not sufficiently strong to break my heart- strings, crack my brain, or melt me down into a deep consumption, I instantly deter- mined to decline a marriage with the gay in- constant Miss Constantia Fickle; who, to speak the truth, had no kind of constancy about her, except that of constantly changing her mind. When I was known to be disengaged again, the ladies admitted me freely to their parties, and seemed more disposed to honour me with their consideration. One beautiful young crea- ture, of superior talents, whom I found more pleasing than all the rest, used frequently to banter me in the most charming manner pos- sible. So potent is the influence of a fine woman's complaisance, and such is the infa- tuation of poor human vanity, that I soon ca- joled myself with a belief that our attachment was reciprocal. Going home one night with a full persuasion that I had nothing to do but ask and have, I got my weighing machine to work, that I might most precisely ascertain the merits and pretensions of the beautiful Se- lina. Never, sure, did human being possess more solid weighty quantities of virtues, per- fections, and agreeables, than this incompa- PROS AND CONS. XXXI inble creature : she was perfectly divine, I did not find a single Con about her. O! what a happy being am I (said I to myself, in a tone of vain-glorious exultation) to possess the affection of such a lovely excellent young wo- man? How bountiful are the gifts of my Creator ! What an incomparable wife has Pro- vidence ordained me? I passed a restless night amidst a multitude of most tumultuous hopes, exstatic reveries, and rapturous reflec- tions. Next night I saw the most divine Se- lina, and thought I had abundant reason to applaud my penetration, when she thus ad- dressed me : " Sir, will you do me the favour to give me candid answers to two simple questions?" 'Assuredly, my dearest madam: I consider your commands most sacred: from me you have nothing to expect but prompt obedience, profound respect, unbounded can- dour — what are your questions?' u You may conceive I take a liberty in asking them ; if 80, I trust you will evade them. First, may I enquire if there is any truth in the report that you have made a vow to die a Bachelor?" c Forbid it heaven! if so, despair indeed would be my portion/ u As you have not taken an oath against marriage, pray tell me frankly, would you feel offended if I took the liberty to recommend you a wife?" ■ I should consider it the greatest honour that ever was conferred on me.' I was just on the point o{ XXXll PREFACE T£ stammering out a full avowal of my passion, but the most elegant and sprightly of her sex withdrew to tell her friends that she had won both bets. When I went home and reflected on the matter, I determined not to defer the declaration of my passion, which I thought I could do most to my satisfaction and credit in a letter, because I knew my paper would not blush, or my pen stutter. I therefore in- stantly addressed her in the following manner : " Dear Madam, " Accept my everlasting thanks *? for the kind hint last night suggested: let •f me implore you to recommend me a w r ife " immediately ; and be so good as not to let " her differ from yourself in any particular " whatever. " I am " Your grateful faithful Servant, " Marcus." I read this laconic Epistle with no small share of self-complacency. " Here/* said I, * is an ingenious disclosure of my passion, re- lated with such pith and brevity as would have done credit to a Spartan." After I had done reading and admiring this precious bil- let, I sent it to my Mistress. I found that whatever her idea of pith might be, she was by no means an admirer of me and my brevity* PROS AND COS9. XXXUl She did me the honour to reply next day as follows: 11 Sir, M I have received your letter, re- " questing me to recommend you a wife. I " shall not, in return, employ you to look me * out a husband. I am determined, please M God, to have one as soon as possible ; but at M the same time beg leave to observe, he shall ** not resemble you in any particular whatever. u I am " Selixa." This was the heaviest blow the hand of Cupid ever dealt me, and my poor heart was thereby so unmercifully bruised as to continue sore for upwards of a twelvemonth. At time* I thought my fancied flames of love were turned to real fire, and that I should bona fidely some night be totally consumed in bed, like Dr. Trotter's Dram-Drinkers*. Can you * Dr. Trotter, in his valuable Treatise upon Drunken- ness, has industrioufly collected together some wonderful and interesting cases of persons who became ignited, sponie sua, and reduced to ashes, by a process of animal combus- tion* As a medical treatise does not enjoy such extensive circu- lation as works upon general subjects, there are, perhaps, many persons, particularly ladies, who are uninformed of these phenomena j I am tempted therefore, for their amuse- ment, to givt the following short extract from the Doctor's \*g;k ; — G 3 XXXAV JPHEFACE TO believe it, Sir! I felt such burning pains a* made me often think my chest stuff 'd full of red hot roasted chesnuts. Thus day and night by Cupid wantonly excruciated, I mournfully reflected on the miseries of hopeless Love, and oft, when musing by myself, burst out into pathetic exclamations. I applauded the precautionary prudence of the East, where beauteous women are compelled to shroud their faces, and conceal the fatal splendour of those charms, which, like the forked light- ning, often blast the sight of the unfortunate •• A woman about fifty years of age, who indulged to excess in spirituous liquors, and got drunk every day be- fore she went to bed, was found entirely burnt and reduced to ashes : some of the offeous parts only were left 3 but the furniture of the apartment had suffered very little damage, Vicq. D'Azyr, instead of disbelieving this phenomenon, adds, there have been many other instances of the like kind."— Vide Essay on Drunkenness, page 71, Second Edi- tion. This is not the most miraculous or interesting amongst the many cases there recorded ; but selected for its brevity. Those who are desirous of information on these matters arc referred to the Doctor's Treatise, page 62, &c. and the Memoir of Mr. Alexander Tilloch, inserted in Vol. Stk of the Philosophical Magazine, page 181. Do not these animal fires throw great light upon a sub- ject which philosophers have so long left in the dark ? I allude to the (as yet undetermined) disputes for ascertaining whether men or women are endued with the greatest portion of fire. I flatter myself it now falls to my lot to advance an argument so clear and conclusive, that all the mists of doubt PROS AND CONS. XXXV beholder, and paralyze the noblest faculties of man. I inveighed against the parents of beau- teous women, for daring to permit them, comet like, to wander through the streets, destruction in their train. Pidcock, said I, is not allowed to let hie wild beasts prowl at large. No, he is made to lock them up in dens ; but the inhuman police of this country permits a beautiful woman, an animal more dangerous to man, shall instantly be dissipated, and beg to claim the right cf being esteemed by the ladies, not only as a redoubtable champion, who has routed all their foes, but also as an equitable judge, who has impartially decided the most im- portant of all causes in their favour. I give my verdict on these grounds :— In no instance upon record, of self-combusted beings, do we find one man. It is true, two noblemen, and one sol- dier, who drank raw spirits to excess, eructed a few flames, and died j but this is not being fairly reduced to ashes, or converted into charcoal like that more fiery animal, a wo- man. If men could have been burnt by the force of their own fires, what would have been the fate of Pindar and Ho- mer of old, or Shakspeare, Dryden, Milton, Gray, and Collins? — these, it must be allowed, were men posses- sing some degree of fire ; but none of these were burnt to cinders in bed by the light of their own genius, any more than Marcus Urbanus, notwithstanding all his flames of love. Even Rousseau, who, by his own confession, some- times wrote so warmly, that his words were hot enough (4 XXXVI PREFACE TO than all the sanguinary monster? of Nufnidia, to infest the public places, and roam about the streets to violate the peace and desolate the happiness of thousands. A lion* when he dooms us for prey, is kind enough to eat us up at once; but a beautiful woman devours us piece-meal— roasts one, as it were, by a slow tire, and destroys us by a lingering consumption* to " burn tbt paper" escaped spontaneous ignition and in- cineration. Women are not satisfied with burning paper, they sonic* tiroes burn themselves. Can we any longer wonder at the flashes of fire that blaze out from the compositions of a Sappho, and an Eloisa ? As for Sappho, I make no doubt but she would soon have been carbonated by self- conflagration, if she had not chosen to drown herself in so precipitate a manner. Having given to men so humiliating a proof of their infe- riority to women, I cannot in their present chop-fallen (late forbear to offer them a little comfort, by the way of a douceur. Men, not unfrequently, are much afflicted in the mar- riage state ; and many a wretched husband most emphati- cally cries out, M Burn my wife !" — And so you may, my dear good Mr. Husband, if you will but let her drink a sufficient quantity of gin ; for the innate fires of her genius being thereby stimulated into action, the spirits may become ignited, so that conflagration, and combustion also, may result from this grand chemical procedure. And what is the most comfortable consideration for the husband is, that a wife may in this manner be burnt, with- out consuming an uninsured house, or even causing the de- struction of the bed clothes.— There's news for husbands ! PROS AND CONS. XXXVU We worship her — she spurns us; we call her an angel — she plays the devil with us. A heautiful woman is a public calamity. The French sometimes denominate her poi- son; I call her a scourge —a visitation — a pestilence, when single ; and a plague when married. Thus did I often painfully reflect, and bit- terly declaim, till the black gall w r as roused within me. This only served to aggravate my case, and I w T as soon compelled to state it to physicians. Their various opinions amply verified the proverb, that " Many men have many minds." One said I had received a concussion of the right lobe of the liver ; another that I had destroyed the left lobe of my lungs with playing on the hautboy ; ano- ther said I was spleen-grown ; another fixed the disease in my kidneys ; another seated it in the brain ; another seated it no where but in my own imagination, and took a guinea for telling me there was nothing the matter with me. The last came somewhat nearer the mark; he vowed I was afllicted with a most inveterate heart-burn, treated me like a calf, and bade me lick a lump of chalk. Continuing to get worse, I was resolved to stand my own physician. I reasoned on my case : I am afflicted with the passion of love, said I;— what is the nature of this passion? It is said to be sweet ; consequently I must C 5 XXXVlil PREFACE TO seek for antidotes amongst those substances endued with qualities the most opposite. I therefore tried to cure this sweet passion by swallowing bitter aloes and stinking assafoe- tida. This regimen miscarried like the rest ; as the disgust excited, only acted on my pa* late, and did not affect the appetite I felt for my mistress. I then consulted two old wo- men : one desired me to take thyme ; the other, hearts-ease. I was at last indebted for my cure to an ass of the four-footed tribe, whose milk I lived on so long, that I became ass enough to feel indifference for the most charming object in existence. I was not in a hurry to write laconic love- letters, and far less did I feel disposed to fall in love again; because I found from expe- rience, that neither my constitution or my purse could possibly afford it. I determined to be satisfied with friendship, a much cheaper article. I became extremely intimate with Laura ; I asked her if it would be agreeable to her to let me be her friend ? — She said, she had no objection ; and I became her friend accordingly. In the course of our confiden- tial conversations, I related to her all the principal occurrences of my life, not even excepting my love affairs, and the ingenious machine I had invented for Pro-ing and Con- ning. I soon found cause, however, to repent my candour ; for she one day took advantage PROS AND CON*. XXXiX of my absence, and under the pretence of changing a volume of Shakspeare, gained admittence to my study, attended by her fe- male friend, Sophia ; a mad-cap, plump, rich, beautiful young lady of nineteen. They amused themselves with ransacking my apart- ment ; and as my evil destiny would have it, discovered my ingenious apparatus, which they immediately employed most hugely to my disadvantage. Guess my surprise when I went into my study, to find every thing in a state of confusion : my books were thrown off the shelves — my papers dealt like cards, in parcels, all about the room — my gold weights strewed in one corner, the leaden ones scattered about in another. In the Con scale I found the following billet from my friend Laura, who was determined not to be my friend any longer : — " Sir, " I have seen your machine, and * made use of it to Pro and Con my ifew " lover, Mr. Alberto, who last night, upon m his knees, very politely offered me his " hand. Having weighed the matter well, I w find a balance in his favour: this, however, " I tell you in friendly confidence, as well as " that it will not be in my power to be vout u friend any longer. I find Mr. Alberto pos- H sesses many scruples of jealousy-; yoti will, cO Xl FREFACE TO m therefore, be so kind as to receive this '■ everlasting adieu, from " Laura." Judge the chagrin I felt to be abandoned by my friend. Yet this was not the most mortifying part of the adventure ; as I soon found, to my sorrow. Observing some torn pieces of paper on the floor, I had the curio- sity to pick up, and examine them. Figure to yourself my amazement, when I beheld the estimates of my own mind and body, as taken by the rich and beautiful Sophia! My cheeks glowed and chilled alternately as I saw my- self credited for a pound of wit, an ounce of reason, and a grain of prudence. I had no doubt but I should carry it : yet, alas ! when I came to look at the sums total, I found I had lost it by one article — what it was she did not fully express ^ but thus mys- teriously wrote it down — " Deficient in the essential point, two ounces and a half." This turned the scale against me. Surely she did not allude to my poverty, as she possessed a handsome independence. I railed, I raved, and ranted like a maniac. Why did I un- reservedly display myself to the perfidious Laura ? — Why did I give her the whole his- .tory of this most vile machine ? — She has be- trayed me ! In my passion I determined to destroy it. for having deprived me of the rich PROS AND CON*. Xll and beautiful Sophia, whom I understood had fully determined to marry me, until she dis- covered I was deficient in the essential point. It is fortunate for you that I did not demo- lish this apparatus in my rage, as I should not have been then able to furnish you with the means of fairly estimating all the merits of your " dear, dear Julia !" I advise you to weigh her by all means; and you shall be accommodated with my apparatus for the pur- pose, w r henever you think proper to demand it. Having disclosed to you the utility, as well as the best method of Pro-ing and Con-ning, I now proceed to offer you some further in- structions relative to Love and Matrimony. During your courtship, let me intreat you never to wear the mask of base dissimulation ; never abandon the integrity, simplicity, and candour of your native character. It is too much the practice of lovers to demean them- selves with artifice ; and during this proba- tionary term, to draw a close veil over all their faults and constitutional infirmities. Many men in your situation would labour to conceal their turpitude from Julia : but my ingenuous pupil will, I trust, display a ge- nerous disdain of all deception. Do not by any means attempt to hide from her that you are so confounded passionate : — no, rather seek occasions to display your bad propensi- ties; and let her, by a foretaste of your tern* Xlii PREFACE TO per, learn what a disposition she will have ta deal with. Wring the neck of her bullfinch — throw ft fork at her parrot — knock her lap-dog's brains out with the poker ; this will shew her you are passionate. If your breath is foul, kis* her without having orris-root in your mouth ; if your hair is red, let her see you one day without powder ; if you wear a wig, tighten the band of your hat, so that when you make her a bow the hat and wig may both come off together; if your legs are bandy, be sure to let her see you walk a minuet in white silk stockings ; if you take snuff, tell her you always have a waistcoat-pocket lined with leather, because you find it more convenient than a snuff-box ; and if you chew tobacco, make a point some day to take a stale quid from your cheek, and throw it in the fire* This is what I call being candid. It is necessary you should acquaint her* that you are neither a Gentleman or a Philo- sopher. From what I know of Julia, I enter- tain no doubt but she will soon make you the former ; and when you cease to be a lover, you will again become the latter. When j~ou are married, you will soon resume your learned calmness and indifference, precisely at a time when you will find the utmost use for all your patience and philosophy. I admire the salutary dispensations of pro- PROS AKD CONS. Xlili ▼idence evinced on these occasions, and I beg to point them out as worthy of your no- tice. The lover undergoes a temporary pri- vation of his reason and philosophy; — and why ? — The answer is obvious: — Because he is no longer doomed to show a Stoical indif- ference, and is designed to play the fool. But the married man is soon brought to his sober senses, and may begin to act once more like a rational being from sun-rise to sun-set, if his wife will let him. As for his philoso- phy, he may practice that with or without permission of his wife, or any individual being in existence. We live, Sir, in a world that will allow a man to bear all sorts of sorrows, in- juries, and miseries, with as much patience as he chooses. Yes, yes, thank Heaven ! this world is so constituted, that a married man may practice philosophy as soon as he thinks proper, if nature happens to have made him a philosopher. I have advised you to be explicit, unre- served, and candid, throughout the whole of your courtship : much of matrimonial happi- ness depends upon a previous good under- standing between the parties. If your in- come is about five and twenty guineas a quar- ter, and your mistress is to come to you with nothing but her beauty for her dowry, you may give her to understand, that she will not be permitted to dress at the rate of five hun- Xlir PREFACE TO dred pounds per annum, and that you do not intend to keep her a coach and four. With respect to getting yourself sent to jail on her account, you may start the fol- lowing objection, namely, the insupportable distress that you should feel at being thus deprived of her most dear society. No well- bred husband, who has studied Chesterfield, could act so impolitely as to take his wife to prison with him. It is enough that a wife gets her husband put into jail, without coming there to him. I advise you not only to manifest your faults, but even to communicate your various little prejudices, to the woman you design to make your wife. Let her know that your education has given you so strong' a bias towards morality, propriety, and decency, that your prejudices all run in favour of mak- ing your wife behave with obedience, deli- cacy, and decorum. Tou may state also, that not having been brought up in France or Italy, you have a natural antipathy to being made a cuckold. I assure you it will be better to make her sensible of this before than after marriage: explanations come ra- ther awkwardly after marriage ; — a very me- morable example of which took place, in what is called High Life not long ago. A \*ery beautiful lady, who espoused a ce- lebrated battered rake, addressed him thus — FRO? AND CON*. Xlv * I absolutely forgot to apprise you of one small circumstance; perhaps you have not observed, that, like Annette, I am just now somewhat encumbered with " un petit arron- dissement ;" of this effect, your friend Tom S has been the cause;? " Zounds, Ma- dam !" said the bridegroom, " I think you might, considering our intimacy, have done me the favour to have mentioned this circum- stance a little sooner !" You see what evils a disregard to candour may produce. Thus was a wonderfully-well- bred highly polished man compelled to re- buke a wonderfully elegant accomplished lady on her wedding-day : not that the lady was thereby disconcerted ; she bore it with a high degree of fashionable " sang froid" which in plain English means a great deal of cool impudence. As your bride will exhibit much amiable confusion and delicate timidity at her nup- tials, it will be necessary not to behave too roughly. When you go to church to marry her, don't clap the parson on the back, and say, as a certain line gentleman once did, ** Make haste, old boy 1 I'm in a deuce of a hurry!" Don't you be getting into a fit of absence either, and say " No /" instead of " Yes," when the priest demands, if you will take this woman for your wedded wife? — bhould the ring be missing when the prie3t Xlvi yjtEfACE TO asks for it, and the bride says, she saw you put it in your pocket, don't, like the rude old Guernsey bridegroom *, bellow forth—* " You lie!" so loud as to be heard by the whole congregation. I trust you will excuse my offering the above advice, which, indeed, I should not have done, if I did not know you to be a bit of a bear. Should you be obliged to elope with your mistress, and know yourself to be closely pur- sued, I advise you not to stop on the road until a turkey is boiled for your supper, lest the lady, thinking you seem more inclined for eating than marrying, and that you are fonder of a turkey than herself, should refuse to travel with you any farther, and surrender herself to her pursuers ; a circumstance that happened not long since in Norfolk^ a coun* try famed for fine turkeys, hard dumplings, and run-away matches. Apropos, while on the subject of cookery. Let me advise you, * This circumstance actually took place at a wedding in Guernsey some years ago. The clergyman asked for the ring. *' You have got it/* said the bridegroom to the bride.— " No, I gave it you back again," said the woman. " You lie !" said the man. After much search, this polite bridegroom drew forth a small parcel from his pocket, and unfolding half a dozen envellopes, produced a leaden ring-*with which he had the happiness to be mar- ried ! PROS AND CON*. xlvil when married, not to insist upon boiled ducke for dinner; but if your wife spontaneously puts that dish upon your table, accept it as a most auspicious omen, and rest assured that you enjoy no scanty share of conjugal feli- city. I would have you careful how you request your wife to remove the fire-irons from one side of the grate to the other ; as a parlour- poker was the means of once stirring up such fiery indignation, as put a whole house into a flame of discord, and near consumed the silken Hymeneal ties with which a loving pair had long been bound. Mr. Chose was gravely reading the original Hafen Slawkenbergius at one side of the fire, and Mrs. Chose sat darning old black wors- tead stockings at the other. By some unto- ward accident, the fire-irons were all on Mrs. Chose's side. " My dear," said Mr. Chose, how miserable it makes me to gaze on any thing that looks un-uniform : be kind enough, my dear, to let me have the poker on my side." Mrs. Chose, who was busy taking a long stitch at the time, replied, " I'll give it you presently, my loye/W Nay, prythee, put me out of pain at once ; 'tis absolutely quite distressing to my eye — the fire-place looks like a sow with one ear."—" One fiddle- stick! How can you be so excessive whimsi- cal ?" " How d ye mean whimsical ?"— Xlviil tHIFACE TO * Lord, man! don t be so plaguy ficlgetty !? " Plaguy fidgetty ! No, madam ; I am no such thing !*' — M Pray, Sir, don't put yourself in such a fluster !" " I tell you I am not in a fluster !" — w I say, Sir, you are. For shame! how can you throw yourself in such a pas- sion." " I in a passion !"_" Yes, Sir, you are." " *Tis false r-> *Tis true !* "Ma- dam, 'tis no such thing." — " I say, it is such a thing." " I sa}-, 'tis no such a thing. 'Sdeath ! do you think that I'll submit to such provoking language ? You shall submit." — " I wo'nt!" " You shall!"—- I shan't !" " I'll make you."— " You can't." " By Heavens, Madam!" — "By Heavens, Sir!" " Hold your tongue, Mrs. Chose!"—" I won't, Mr. Chose !" At it they went, ding- dong, with poker and tongs. The more he ranted, the more she raved : till at last, vying to outdo each other in provocation, the con- tention ran so high, that Mr. Chose declared he would not live with Mrs. Chose one hour longer ; and Mrs. Chose declared she would not sleep another night beneath the same roof, much less in the same bed. " Madam, said the husband, 'tis high time that Ave should part."—" With all my heart !" said the wife. -Agreed!" said he.— "Agreed!" echoed she. A lawyer was absolutely sent for, to draw up the deeds of separation ; but being " mi- MOS AND CONS. xllX rabifa dictu /" a peace-loving strife-quelling sort of man, he begged to hear the particu- lars that led them to come to such a harsh conclusion. He was ordered to proceed to business ; but obstinately persevered in his refusal. Addressing himself to the husband, he said, " Are you both fully agreed upon a separation ?" — " Yes, yes !" exclaimed both parties. " Well, Sir, what are your reasons for so doing ?" — H Sir, I can't inform you." M Madam, will you be so obliging as to acquaint me ?" — " Indeed, Sir, I cannot." " If that is the case," said the peace-loving lawyer, " I venture to pronounce your quarrel has originated in something so frivolous, that you are both ashamed to own it." He urged the point so closely that he at length extorted the truth ; nor did he desist from his friendly interference until he had the satisfaction to re-establish the most perfect harmony. — "Warned by his friendly admonitions, this wedded couple grew more circumspect in their words, less aggravating in their man* ners, and, in short, quite left off wrangling, and lived happy. Never forget, my good Pupil, that forbear- ance is a virtue, and that " a mild answer turneth away wrath." Do not sufter yourself to be disconcerted by trifles, and rather peace- ably submit to little provocations, than allow them to excite your indignation. Be not, I PREFACE TO moreover, a vindictive unforgiving husband, as wives sometimes, when mildly reproved, become sincerely penitent for their miscon- duct, and if pardoned, carefully avoid a repe- tition of their faults. Any inexorable, stern, unfeeling monster can enact the parts of judge and executioner; but to pity and forgive a culprit, are offices performed by none but the humane, the merciful, and the benevolent. Such are the beings I am bound to hold forth as examples worthy of the emulation, and the imitation of my Pupil. A well-timed act of mercy has been often known to work the re- formation of the most abandoned criminal ; but let us speak to facts : I can adduce a case that happened under my own observation. In the year of our Lord 1797, the wife of a sol- dier (belonging to a militia regiment encamp- ed at Brighton) in defiance of all articles of war, frequently presumed to quarrel with the superior officer, her husband. Her mother, speaking of her disposition, would allow she was a great spirit, which translated into plain English means a precious vixen ; this woman of spirit took it in her head not only to sub* mit her husband to the disciplina linguae (alias tongue-banging) but also to bestow on him from time to time such corporal punishment (although he was but a private) as the nature and degree of his offences seemed to merit. Becoming more insubordinate, she at last was PROS AND CONS. Vl *o mutinous as to break another formidable article of war, which denounces a terrific pe- nalty against all those who draw, or offer to draw, or lift up any weapon of offence against at superior. Not having the fear of this, or any other article before her eyes, this woman of spirit one day at dinner snatched up a knife, and in a fit of fury seized her husband by the throat, and cut his nose off. When this cir- cumstance was made public, every body agreed that the woman was wrong; and the commanding officer was so fully satisfied of it, that he condemned her to be drummed out of the regiment the next morning. When the woman heard the sentence, being grievously afflicted, she determined to execute a project that has been successfully performed by num- berless great heroines and celebrated beauties in all times and countries — she sought her judge, and falling on her knees, with tears, intreaties, lamentations, and most solemn promises of reformation, strove to move his pity. The Commandant, a man of genuine goodness and humanity, (who, for the consi- deration of obtaining a Tyburn Ticket, would not have endeavoured to procure the hanging of any man, iL'oman> or child in his majesty's dominions) not only suffered himself to be thus supplicated, but allowed himself to pity a woman who lay prostrate at his feet— blow- ing the dust off his boots with gusts of con* lii PREFACE TO trite sighs, and washing the rust off the rowels of his spurs with floods of penetential tears. " Woman," said he, " you have been guilty of a very barbarous and cruel action."— ." O! Sir, I am sensible of my misconduct" — " You have cut off your husband's nose!" — " I know I have, Sir, (replied the woman) but if your honour will be kind enough to excuse my being drumm'd out of the regiment, I promise I will never do so any more J" The officer re- lying on the woman's word, kindly forgave her ; nor had he occasion to repent this act of lenity — the woman perform'd her promise, for it is a well known fact, that she never did cut her husband's nose off any more. Thus you see the wonderful effect of well- tim'd mercy. May you be ever thus humane and generous — may you live in the society of your dear, dear Julia, to practise this, and every other virtue for a thousand years — and may she never cut your nose off. From the few desultory hints I have given you upon a subject that might be spun out into as many volumes as ever the famous Alex- andrian library contained, you will, I presume, begin to believe there are some Cons as well as Pros for Love and Marriage. Both ancient and modern authors of the greatest reputation for skill and veracity, have directed their attention to these interesting subjects. |?R06 AND CONS- 1X11 They have painted a thousand different pic- tures of Cupid and Hymen, which, though at dissimilar to each other as light is to darkness, are still considered very striking likenesses of these two great Originals. Some, have painted them as fair as Angels, and others, as black as Devils. For my own part, after having Pro'd and Conn'd Cupid and Hymen with the grt-atest possible care and precision, I am led to form the following concise opinions of them, namely, that the aforesaid illustrious characters are made up of duplicity — yes, Sir, depend upon it they are very two-fold kind of fellows; and, J anus-like, possess two faces — one always smiling, the other always crying. As i hope some day to figure as a theorist in these matters, I shall not denominate my conclusions apothegms, inductions, axioms, &c. but adopt a term of my own. I shall say then, that after all my researches in the above subjects, I have only been able to discover four Instances — tw r o for Love, and two for Matrimony For instance, Cupid resembles a Bee in two instances: In the first instance (like a Bee) he can nourish us with the most delicious honey: And in the second instance, like a Bee he can sting us to death. liv PREFACE TO PROS AND CONS. And now for two instances of Matrimony- Marriage, in the first instance, is like two coo- ing Doves lock'd up together in a cage:— And in the second instance, like two Cats tied together by the tails, and thrown across a broomstick. And now, my good ingenuous pupil, and most gentle reader, fearing to exhaust your patience, I conclude myself Your ever faithful Tutor in Love, And Mentor in Matrimony, Marcus Urbanus. T>2 According to Mr. Helicon, this Temple was first built Pro-Cupid, in Bardshire, he calls it Templum Beatis- siraum Amatcrum Felicissimorum ; alias, The Most Blessed Tempie of Most Happy Lovers. He acknow- ledges never to have been inside of it 5 because Julia pur- posely hampered the jock, to prevent his admission. He very often wanders about it, to admire the beautiful scenery 5 and occasionally sleeps whole nights at the cell of the door, because he thinks it gives him pleasant dreams. The road to this Temple is infinitely more delightful than any other ; being through groves like those of Paphos, along banks like tho^-e of Sharon, and over meads like those of Arcadia. This is the way Helicon went, after ascending Genius Height, climbing up Mount Learning, and various beautiful little hills and slopes, named after the Arts and Sciences. The rest of the journey was upon a gradual descent, through cultivation meadows, accom- plishment pleasure grounds, Sec. &c. tiii he came to a style called Infatuation, which leap he was able to take immeaiately, being mounted on a horse ca'led Enthu- siasm : to the left there is a narrow winding path that leads, co a private mad-house, built by one Squire Wer- ter. Helicon kept the right road, and went up Strong MindLdint directly to the Temple. N. B. Travellers may go to the left, if they choose, through Small Soul Alley, to the raad-house. PROS ANB CONS- DIALOGUE I. Helicon, Atticus, and Folio. u O'er Head and Ears in Love" u She may be well comparde u Unto the phoenix kinde, " Whose like was never seen or heard M That any man can finde." FOLIO. Again thus soon can you presume to show That banish' d face in Paternoster-Row ! Did not my housemaid chace you with her mop, And printers' devils hoot you from my shop ; Crack jokes upon your classical old wig, And call you sniveling sentimental prig ? While I consignM to literary Hell* Thee, and those works of thine that never sell ; Still crown 'd with dust, assorted by themselves, With vile dead-weight they load my groaning shelves. Ah, would I ne'er had hir'd thy luckless pen To write the histories of things and men ! Perish the strings of Love's harmonious lyre! Confound your bold flights ! Burn your Muse, all fire ! * A printer's cockloft, where condemned pieces are trea- sured up for the trunk-maker. D % 68 Curse your pathetic, fine, im passion 'd style ! Readers don't want to weep, they wish to smile* Plague take your tuneful eloquence, say I ; Let me haye something cheerful, queer, and dry ! Be monstrous comic, terrible ou*re ; And write to suit the manners of the day. This no fit season, no propitious time, For moral Bards to sermonize in rhyme. Write Novels to delight grown girls and boys, Such works, when fill'd with scandal, make much noise; Spectacles, Ballets, Pantomimes compose /// Or sing-song flim-flam scenes, still worse than those, ATTICUS. Have you no thieves, heroically base, With murd'rous enterprize our Stage to grace ? No outlaw* d fiends, magnanimously bold. Whose plans of vengeance make our blood run cold ; Who in the fustian rant of mock sublime, Shall frame just pleas for every hell-bora crime ? Renounce remorse, discard ingenuous shame, Extol false honour, sanctify false fame ; Style virtues, prejudices — Truth, a knave ; Call cut-throat cowards, honest, bold, and brave : And while the victims of Resentment bleed, Rid us applaud the grandeur of the deed. Then from the meanest ruffians of the gang Start some droll rogue, imbu'd with quaint queer slang ; This murd'rous Quixotte's Squire, with jokes galore, May keep the house in a perpetual roar : While in the gallery some victim youth, Who culls not from the scene one moral truth, Charm'd with the cave, the castle, and the wood, Pleas'd with a trade so noble, gay, and good ; 59 Enraptur'd, emulates the robber's part, And deeply grafts his vices on his heart. A piece like this the Town with rapture view, 'Twill fill the Play-house, and your pockets too. FOLIO. Have you no pageant Melo- Dramas got, Devoid of moral, humour, sense, or plot ; In which rude sailors, much " bemus'd with beer, Mostly beastly loyal, vex some lady's ear ; Hiccup stale sentiments, and tritely deal In nauseous hacknied scraps of patriot zeal : Then agonize the critics of the pit With luhberb; attempts at naval wit ? If to the world such mawkish trash you give, Your fortune's made — in splendor you may live. ATTICUS. Yield not to views thus sordidly profane, Far from the Poet be such hopes of gain ; Scorn false renown, disdain the lust of cash, Nor stoop to please the world by writing trash : Write for the Critics, emulate their praise, Charm these chaste arbiters of classic lays; Who judge by each sublime and beauteous rule- All perfect masters in the old Greek school : Let such be pleas'd, make this your sov' reign pride, And perish all th' unlearned world beside ! HELICON. Give me to please one nymph divinely fair ; To win her favour is my first fond care ! Let me please Julia ! Venus grant me this : Her praise be mine — I seek no other bliss. d 4 60 If I find grace in her resplendent eyes, All other meeds of honour I despise ; If her fair hands consent my bays to weave, No meaner laurels shall these brows receive : Her charms my theme, her smiles my best reward, Each vulgar source of fame shall be abhorr'd. Shall I my cares on classic rules bestow ? Am I in love with the Reviewers ? — No ! To -celebrate my mistress is my pride, Critics I scorn, and all the world beside. FOLIO. Dare Bards scorn Critics ! Sure the man's insane : Cupid beyond all doubt has turn'd his brain ! Scorn Critics ! Friend, hast quarreil'd with thy meat ? Canst thou go naked ?— cease to drink and eat ? Can Julia's lips be sipp'd ? — her plump cheeks chew'd ? Are smiles good substitutes for cloaths and food ? Say, can the charms of thy enchanting fair Make thee, cameleon-like, subsist on air ? If so, I yield ; nor venture to deny, That Bards may dare the Critict to defy. ATTICUS. Rash Bard, forbear ! Imbu'd with their own phlegm, Judges to judge, and censors to condemn. Learn to respect and fear those dread Reviews, That make and unmake Authors when they choose ; That give the hungry Wit roast beef to carve, Or tell a Man of Letters he shall starve. Would all Wits' letters came in gold array M, And of good solid gingerbread were made : 61 Scholars no more their ringers then would gnaw, Or, in M fine frenzy,' ' strike an hungry craw I FOLIO. 'Tis not enough that bounteous Heav'n thinks fit To give you wisdom, genius, taste, and wit ; Almighty Critics must bestow the same, Or small, alas ! will be your share of tame. Regard, with pious awe, these sons of pow'r, Whose pens such curses on your head can show'r : These, by abusing your poetic feet, May send you wand'ring barefoot through the street ; Reduce to beggary your babes and wife, Or get you snug in jail cag'd up for life. But say, with what intent most luckless swain, These doors you venture to besiege again ? Hast brought me more vile manuscripts to read ? Scribbler, avaunt ! your Satires ne'er succeed: You hunt down vices, lash each base excess, And rail against immodesty of dress ; No wonder, faith, your Muse gains no renown. And you in rags thus wander thro' the Tow ti. Go, you're too grave ; you are, upon my soul ! I want some wag, so exquisitely droll. That cynics, while they read h 5 tales ^f wit, Shall laugh till all their sides are like to split. Can you thus pleasingly pretend to write. Assume the gay, the cheerful, md the light ; Regale with jokes a laughter-loving r And with broad grins array that frownin^ face ? Can you in games of romps employ the Nine, And stick old Momus in Apollo's shrine 1 D 5 69 HELICON. Defend me, Phoebus ! from a thought so base ; No ribald lays thy Temple shall disgrace ! Shall I invoke Aonia's sacred throng, With scurril clamour to pollute my song ? Ah, ne'er till Marsias wins Apollo's lute, And Pan's rude pipe excells Thalia's flute ! Perish old Momus, and his Satyr train ! May Venus triumph, and let Cupid reign ! To them my vassal spirit 1 resign, O, rule me, Venus ! 1 am wholly thine ! O, fttd my passion ! — fan my rising flame I For Julia and Venus are the same. Immortal is her fame : to Julia's praise 1 tune my lyre, and consecrate my lays ; Her image o'er each thought presides supreme, Her worth supplies an everlasting theme. O, boundless source of exquisite delight ! For her I live, I feel, I think, I write : On Metaphor's bold wings she bids me rise, And lifts my soul sublimely to the skies ; Where close to Venus, Fancy's Temple rears A dome that shines amidst a host of spheres : There the tranc'd Poet feasts, without alloy, On bliss superior to mortal joy ; Wrapp'd in delicious dreams, his soul pursues Romantic schemes, and dear Eutopian views : There, with Imagination's fine keen ken, He thinks he sees a race of perfect men !!! Then with loud peals of joy proclaims the sight Of realms where all seems good> and all goes right ; 63 And with his angel-mistress seeks that shou, Where virtue reigns, and sorrow is no more. ATTICUS. By Hymen, Cupid, Venus, and her clove ! Our Bard has plung'd o'er head and ears in love. What a cheap state of luxury is thine, Thus to get drunk with love instead of wine ! HELICON. O, ever boozy may I thus remain ! Still may such fumes intoxicate my brain ! I scorn, chill Apathy ! thy sober lot : If love can make me drunk, I'll die a sot. FOLIO. Well said, Silenus ! Faith, 'twill show good spunk, At Julia's beauteous feet to fall dead drunk. But say, thou man of Bacchus, love, and woe, What bade thee reel to Paternoster-Row ? HELICON. To print this Volume, big with tuneful strains Of tender virgins and enamour'd swains. Love and the maid I sing— my Muse grows proud ; Joys throng on }oys, on raptures raptures crowd : Nymphs, shepherdesses, goddesses, and queens, Sport on my meeds, and revel on my greens ; Shepherd philosophers, poetic fawns, And learned princes lounge upon my lawns ; On my gay banks no gloomy critics sit, Arch-foes to love, and enemies to wit ; d6 m Nor other monsters prowl about my groves, No shaggy Centaurs lurk near my alcoves ; No Polyphemus haunts my rocks and glades, To stun with growls my murmuring cascades ; No filthy Satyrs scare my nymphs' chaste eyes, Or take them in the bushes by surprise : Fearless they cast aside their purple cloaths, And show their charms to many a blushing rose ; Then sport in streams, as their own persons pure, From harm protected, and from lust secure. Perch 'd high 'midst laurels poets gaily sing, To welccme Cupid, Hymen, Love, and Spring; Theocritus and Virgil still rehearse New tales of love, in sweet alternate verse ; Tibullus, Ovid, Petrarch, warble here, And Shenstone high o'er all supremely dear, His artless delicately tender strains Sing Love's best cares, and all its pleasing pains. Led by the Graces to the Muse's seat, Venus and Erato their Laureat greet ; Weave his gay wreath, and then with fond regard Bid Cupid crown him Love's most fav'rite Bard. Such, Julia, are the birds, whose notes resound In Fancy's Paradise, and Love's choice ground ; Applaud their raptures, bless their skill divine, And praise their numbers, for their songs are thine. A better heroine no Bard could choose To grace his talents, and exalt his Muse : Can we too oft, too tenderly v ^oeat A name like hers, so musically sweet ? Can we too frequently such .harp-strings touch, Or praise her charms too often, or too much ? 05 The sea shall stagnate, spheres shall cease to move, Ere I exhaust such themes, and cease to love. Five hundred sonnets celebrate her face, A thousand more commemorate each ^race I In twelve I rave — in twenty weep and sigh ; In five I wish to live — in twelve to die ; In nine I call her cruel, cold, and fair; In one I hope — in fifty I despair ! Accept these works, commit them to the press, My Julia's name shall stamp them with success. Her worth and beauty charm th' enamour'd town, To hymn her praise, is infinite ienown. Be such my mead — all others I forswear, The gold be thine, for riches are thy care : I ask nor recompence, nor fame, nor praise, And only seek in love to spend my days. FOLIO. Thee and thy Works to Willis I resign ; If Bedlam boasts one empty cell, 'tis thine. DIALOGUE II. Biddy, Maria, Nancy, and Nannette.* " Welcome Flirtation J" BIDDY. bwEET is the love of dress, and dear the pride O'er caps and gowns supremely to preside : To rule the realms of taste with boundless sway, And lead the gew-gaw fashions of the day> NANNETTE. 'Tis no poor meed of praise, no mean renown, With bon-ton laws to subjugate the town ; Nor less i love, the Graces in my train, High Lady Paramount at Bath to reign ; To lead a dance off at a Lord Mayor's Ball, Shine in Hyde Park, and sparkle at Vauxhall. * The Temple in which these gay young ladies gave their votes Pro Cupid wa* built by the renowned Constantia Fickle. It is situated in the very heart of Flirtshire j the road to it is up Cold Constitution Hill, past Insensate House, Affectation Hall, Self-love Place, Single Field, Tabbies Green, and Old Maids Common — none but coquettes go there. 67 K ANNETTE. Proud is such fame, nor meaner is the boast, Midst Bacchanalian bucks to reign chief toast ; To drown whole hosts of wits in floods of wine, And turn, like second Circes, men to swine. NANCY. Such, Beauty, is thy prowess. Belles with ease Triumphant shine in glorious feats like these : But, Oh 1 to dance, to sing, to draw, to paint, Or play like sweet Cecilia, Music's Saint ; To lead Bon Ton, new fashions to declare, And tell subservient crowds what cloaths to wear ; Poor are such triumphs ! Cupid leads my van ; Ah ! what's the love of dress to love of man ? Place me, dear Venus, on Affection's throne ! O, gird my waist with thy resistless zone ! And give these hands those matchless arms to wield, To which e'en Mars himself was proud to yield ! Give me, thou lovely daughter of the main, Wide empire, large dominion, boundless reign ! To govern Kings, Commanders to command, To rule the very rulers of the land ; And make proud man, Creation's lord of all, In abject suppliance at my footstool fall ! BIDDY. 5 Tis no mean praise G'assini to excel, From Krumpholtz, on the harp, to bear the bell; Or read, in print, that Steibelt, Smart, and Shield, To me the palm of excellence must yield : Ah ! judge my raptures while extoll'd so much, For infinite rapidity of touch ! 68 MARIA. Be thine such meeds of covetous desire ; May crowds applaud thee, and may mobs admire! Such schemes of conquest, love-sick girls delight ; Of this they think all day, and dream all night* To snare vain fops, let flirts with harlots vie, I scorn such conquests, and disdain to try. NANCY. May'C upid's best gold shaft thy bosom wound ! In Love's strong fetters may that heart be bound ! Oh, may the fondest fiercest wishes join, To agonize thee with a flame like mine ! MAUI A. As Anglia's cliffs are seen, with conscious pride, The sea's insulting billows to deride : So this free heart Love's feeble malice mocks, Hard, cold, and reckless, as yon sea-beat rocks. N ANNETTE. Happy the nymph, whose breast indifT'rence steels; Who no keen instinct of affection feels; Who views e'en beaux witn undesigning cyes 9 And, fop-proof, turns deaf ears to coxcomb sighs ! My throbbing heart for other feelings move- There fate has planted all the seeds of love ; There fond ideus never cease to grow, And fairest blossoms of arlecuon blow ! NANCY. The same dear buds within my bosom shoot : There passion springs from many a tender root ; 09 There love's gay flowers in quick succession rise, Like tulips various, endless as their dyes. MARIA. Of all the fops, who round your toilette sport, And come in droves to pay their am'rous court, Confess which coxcomb suitor woos thee best, And who is most with approbation blest ? NANCY. Who best makes love, 'tis difficult to tell, Each charming coxcomb pleads his cause so well. By turns they woo ; in turns I love them all ; No victim beau by my disdain shall fall. N ANNETTE. Lord of that heart some darling coxcomb reigns, Proudly triumphant o'er all rival swains : Why thus the truth conceal with maiden shame, Divulge in confidence your fav' rite's name ? There is some youth than all tne rest more dear * r Come, tell me, Nancy ! whisper in mine ear ? NANCY. All dear ! all happy ! — with no whisp'ring voice- 1 scorn all pref 'rence, and disclaim all choice : No sly reserve my lib'ral passion feels, This heart, like cards, divided favour deals ; This heart disdains the prude in love too nice, And shifts good luck, as chance directs the dice. N ANNETTE. Despair pursues me now where'er I fly, To snare one scornful buck I vainly try : 70 He slights my charms, and skips from fair to fair, Free as the wind, and lighter than the air. NANCY. Let not one rebel love defeat your aim, Those eyes have fire to spread a wider flame : Still leave this buck in freedom's paths to range, Yourself a belle, should learn like him to change. MARIA. Ye gay coquettes, whose captivating airs Surround men's hearts with Love's insidious snares ; Who, perfect in the science of deceit, At love, or loo, with equal skill can cheat ; And practise frauds with such bewitching grace, As dupe both rakes and gamesters face to face ! What matchless gifts — what talents ye possess, So many rival beaux with hopes to bless ! Methinks I see the long afPicted train Your boundless sympathy relieves from pain. The ma.i of feeling thus consoles the poor, Who with their woes besiege his friendly door : The good physician kindly thus prescribes Instant relief to misery's worst tribes. Ye changeling nymphs ! Ye universal toasts ! Of whose best favours many a coxcomb boasts ! What focd for mirth must each fear-found' ring word, Each far-fetch' d stutt'ring compliment afford ; When bashful youths, affectionately dumb, Half-choak'd with dread, cough up an am'rous hum I BIDDY. A country booby, and a town-bred wit, A College pedant, and a coxcomb cit, 71 In turns their various eloquence display, And each excells in his peculiar way. The squire in jockey style, and groom-like phrase, On rural sports his rhetoric displays ; Descants on horses, sorrels, greys, and duns, Talks of his hawks, his pointers, and his guns ; Then with shrewd shrugs, loud shouts, and broad gri- mace, Describes a hunt, a cock-fignt, or a race : If I consent to take his honest hand, He'll make me ruler of his house and land ; Teach me to hunt, to fish, to shoot, to skait, And learn me how to leap a five-bar gate. The wit aspires his brilliant pow'rs to snow, In endless flights of satire and bon-mot ; No word or thought unpunish'd can escape, He twists all sense and meaning out of shape : u Pardon, dear maid," he cries, with serious air, f< 'Tis rude to right our wrongs before the fair ; *' But how can we forbear to come to blows, t% When fierce rappee thus takes us by the nose*" In vain to find his wit I rack my brains— A pocket-handkerchief his jest explains ! MARIA. Spare us such equivoque ! — 'tis dull enough, When wits crack jokes on one vile pinch of snufF! BIDDY. To-day he made a more audacious pun : He wish'd my breast held naked to the sun ; 72 As by experiment he fain would know, If heat had power to melt such human snow. MARIA. Strange courtship this ! — Dismiss the punning pest, Who thus jocosely quibbles on your breast, BIDDY, cf Would," he once cried, " I to a moth was turned! " I'd flutter round 'hose eyes till I was burn'd : ** Then love's sad martyr, on those lips divine, u My last fond breath with extasy resign 1" My pedant swain sits wrapp'd in reveries, He cracks no jokes, and makes no repartees ; His love is mathematically told, Problems and signs his sentiments unfold : He, when desir'd his wishes to expound, Draws figures with his cane upon the ground ; And when he ought to kiss these glowing lips, The brute sits casting up the moon's eclipse. The vulgar cit, a second-handed beau, Attempts, with awkward airs, his rank to show; Tho' bred and born in Norton-Falgate Ward, He vainly emulates the spendthrift lord : Love makes him gen'rous to the last degree, He xoows he'll build a country-box for me, And on the morn the marriage knot is tied, I in a chay and four from church shall ride, Then on his knees he begs a lock of hair- MARIA. Which from a cast-off wig you deign to spare. 7* NANCY. Peace, lovely shrew ! Reserve such keen remarks, To lash yon silly group of Bond-street sparks : Their monstrous faults in satire's mirror seen, Shall furnish food to gorge each craving spleen. They come : — Sdlute them, dear sarcastic girl ! Welcome flirtation ! — Vioc la Bagatelle / DIALOGUE III. Lovemore and Julius.* The Cure. u The hidden traynes I know, and secret snares of lore.' LOVEMORE, il know the sex, have studied all their ways, At routes, assemblies, masquerades, and plays ; In ail those scenes where, free from fear and shame* At cards or love they play the deepest game. 1 know them ail, thro' every stage of life, As maid, as widow, mistress, friend, and wife : * The Temple in which the gentle Julius first offered up the vows of his ingenuous heart, is built on the rock of Truth, in the plains of Sincerity. Those who wish to go there, may go over Swainsted Heath, through Shepherd's Fields, Spring Place, Valentine Green, through Doving- 74 From her who rides to court in splendid pomp, To her who in the kitchen plays the romp ; From high to low, magnificent to mean, From Baroness to milk-maid, cook to Queen : I know the pale-fac'd muslin-vested fair, Who goes to chapel with a contrite air ; Sighs full confession to each charge she hears, And at each sermon sheds a quart of tears : I know some nymphs, with carnal zeal inspir'd, Who only go to church to get admir'd : I know of rural belles the buxom trains, Who flock in barns, to flirt with bumpkin swains ; Those humble heroines of wakes and fairs, Who love at puppet-shews to shew their airs ; ton, Cooington, and Billington, over Mount Constancy, along the hundreds of Candour, and straight up True-love Lane. Cselia's Temple is on the borders of Flhtshire. She ap- pointed Julius to meet her there, choosing to be worshipped in no Temple but her own. He is endeavouring to get there as fast as he can : but it is supposed he will not soon get to his journey's end ; as in taking the road she directed, he got into the maze of Caprice, and cannot find his way out of it without her assistance. As for Lovemore, who at the age of twenty «one obtained a pair of colours in the Guards, with the degree of Master of Female Arts, and who is now Doctor of Love, and Colo- nel of Dragoons, he pretends to have visited every Temple of Cupid throughout our amorous dominions 5 but Helicon, who has looked through the key-hole of the Bardshire Tem- ple, says, he never saw his name upon the walls, though he discovered those of Fetrarch and Laura, Abelard and Eloisa, Yorick and Eliza, &c. &c. 7.5 And wfaHe they titter at tlie clown's droll jokes, Hide their red faces in their redder cloaks. I know the sex full well, no watchful dam More truly knows the bleat of her own lamb. I know each deep-laid art, each sly finesse, Why some for man a boundless love profess : Yet while they seem thus scorch' d with am'rous fire. Are cold within, and dead to all desire: Why some who seem unfeeling, cold, and proud, Despise in public, and condemn aloud : Within their breasts sustain a diff 'rent part, And long in secret nurse a bleeding heart ; Till faded cheeks, and grief's distracted air, Betray the latent motives of despair. I learnt not woman from the fictious page, Penn'd by some old sequester'd book-worm sage. The world my only school, I studied there, And read them, one and all, with critic care. No learned Rake hath e'er excell'd my fame, Master of Female Arts, first grae'd my name ; But now, accomplished to the last degree, Doctor of Love— I write myself — A. D. JULIUS. Illustrious Sage ! whose all-discerning eyes Can pierce thro' love's most mystical disguise; Teach me to know the sex, to foil their arts, And read the secret wishes of their hearts. LOVEMORE. The soul's fair candour shining in thy face, In all thy looks, ingenuous truth I trace; Meek, inoffensive, modest, bashful, young, You plead your wishes with a falt'ring tongue^ 76 To Love and Flattery's specious arts unknown, O could I pass that sentence on my own ! Then many a love-lorn, poor, deserted fair, Should cease to mourn, to languish, and despair : Sighs then might change to smiles, and many an eye Should learn to sparkle, and forget to cry. JULIUS. Pity a wretch, who tenderly caress' d A treach'rous snake, who stings his fost'ring breast; One gay Coquette with absolute controul Rules my fond heart, and subjugates my soul. Teach me this abject passion to subdue, Or learn me with success the nymph to woo. LOVEMORE. Say, in atonement for what secret guilt, Has Heav'n decreed that you should love a jilt? If you the blood of martyr'd saints had shed, Fate could not show'r more vengeance on your head. Love a Coquette ! this extasy forgive, Stab, shoot, hang, drown — do any thing but live. JULIUS. Still by delusive hopes of bliss betray'd, Still must I love this captivating maid ; Still vent reproaches, still entreat, complain, And still submit to play the fool in vain. Wit, madman, poet, nay her slave I've turn'd, But by the scornful tyrant still am spurn' d. LOVEMORE. Spurn'd! and with justice — in what fatal hour What daemon bade thee crouch to Cilia's pow'r? T7 By thee exalted to a despot's throne, Triumph and glory dwell in her alone. With scorn she now :eceives thy loyal praise, Feels all the crown, and all the sceptre sways. JULIUS* Skill' d to delight, she knows each pleasing art, With fond desires to tantalize the heart : Accomplished, wise, and wittier than fair, Each word a letter, and each look a snare ; Each sense, at once triumphant, she assails, How well she reasons, with what wit she rails. My feelings she torments with matchless skill, My passions all are servants of her will; Now with cold scorn the nymph my peace destroys, Now fills my bosom with tumultuous joys ; Pires me with hopes when most oppress 'd with fears. And with one look converts my smiles to tears : Then tenderly commiserates my pain, To point more keen the insults of disdain. LOVEMORE. Tn one fair jilt, behold the worst of foes, W ho wages Cupid's war with twofold blows : She comes equipp'd with beauty's keenest arms, And calls in Wit to head a host of charms. Beware the nymph— decline th' unequal fight, •Form'd to seduce, and sifted to delight. Her airs amuse, her pertness you admire, Her petulance gives birth to new desire : Her worst caprices fascinating prove, And ey'n her faults provocatives of lore. '78 JULIUS. How' hard, alas ! how wayward is my fate, To love a being I should learn to hate ! "What rash resolves, indignant, I have made, To fly for ever from this faithless jade ! How have I groan'd beneath her galling yoke ! How many vows to break it — have I broke ! E'en to my friend I blush such truths to tell, Alas ! I know not how to say — Farewell ! This morn I strove to break the fatal tie, And from the cruel maid resolv'd to fly : €i Adieu, for ever ! scornful maid! ,, I cried, ** At least, adieu for ever ! to thy pride ; ** Thy many virtues still my breast shall warm, " I still must idolize that matchless form ; * 6 Long shall the mem'ry of thy wit delight, " Long that dear face be present to my sight : *' But while far hence I breathe my fruitless sighs, A murrain seize her (i speedily and soon ffl Hear how she treated me this afternoon : u Villy," says she, last night, " \ feck & vish u To go to Vilkisson's, and eat fresh fish ; n In short, my dear, the party's quite made up— u Ve dines at Gtrinidge, and comes home to sup. u I'll let you know vat friends I means to meet — " There's Vidow Lane, Miss House, and Mr. Street ; " Young Mr. Field, Miss Grove, and Master Park, u Miss Pain, Miss Joy, Miss Bright, and Mr. Dark, " Old Mother Scarlet, Mr. Brown, Miss Rose, " All the young Harts, and all the little Does, " Miss Jenny Ricketts, Mr. Slight, Miss Strong, " Miss 'Fhynne, Miss Thicknesse, Mr. Snort, Miss Long, " Old Brook, Young Ford, Miss Hide, cross Mrs. Hunt, " Counsellor Sharp, and surly Old Squire Blunt ; u Fat Mr. Dabbs, the beautiful Miss Tibbs, * c Jack Hance, Tom Ranee, George Vance, and their three ribs ; " Dick Styles, Joe Giles, Bob Dobbs, and Mr. Hobbs, " The two Miss Babses, and the three Miss Squabs. ■_' Ve'll make a jovial party — do things snug, 11 And hire a wessel from your friend Tom Tug : " Ve all loves boat-sailing, and means to go, " Rain, hail, or shine, my dear — blow high, blow low!" u My love, says I, you knoxvs I likes a sail, " If the day's fine — but not in rain or hail : " I alvays choose smooth vater for a jaunt, " Like Mrs. Phips, your godmother, my aunt." " Odsbodlikins !" quoth she, " you silly man ! « Ve've fix'd the day, and you shan't mar our plan," G 126 8 Veil, veil, my dear," said I, " I yields— -agreed ; 6 Rain, hail, or shine, to Grinidge ve'll proceed. 6 Jacky shall go vith us, he loves his pap, 6 If ve're much scroug'd I'll take him on my lap ; * He shall put on his bran-new scarlet coat, 6 You know he's all agog to go afloat. 1 Let me prowide — I knows vat I'm about ; c I'll furnish pipes, tobacco, and brown stout : 6 You'll take some cherry-bounce, of course, my dear, 6 Because as how you never drinks no deer ; 6 And get some cordials for the ladies, pray, * For fear they all fall sea-sick by the vay. 6 If 3-0U 'cants sports, I'll suit you in a trice, 6 Ve'll take t-totums, draftboards, cards, and dice; 6 And as the wessel on the vater sails, * Ve'll eat, drink, smoke, laugh, joke, and tell droll tales : « You'll take your harp — I'll bring my fishing-rod, 6 And vile you sings and plays, I'll fish for cod." Veil, Sir, to end my tale to sea ve vent, All in high glee, and on good-humour bent. So things vent off quite smooth till dinner came, And at the table's top they seats my dame : That place but ill becomes my clumsy vife, She's thevorst carver that e'er took up knife. My vis ' at vat a size she mawl'd the fish ! She bent the slice, and vacfc she broke the dish ; She gash'd the meat at such a clumsy size As made each slice disgustful to all eyes. Now, my first cousin, Mr. Tug, is vone That hates all kinds of wictuals underdone : She knew that fast enough, yet cramm'd his plate Vith a raw lump of mutton two pounds veight. 127 Tom bids the vaiter take it to the deuce, And axes for the sidesman of a goose. By jingo, Sir ! this gave her vork enough, Blunt vas the knife, the goose vas old and tough : First for the joints she felt ; but tir'd at length, At it she vent ding-dong, by sheer main strength ; Slap thro' the bone, the knife vith rage she crash 'd, And all vith gravy Tug's vite vaistcoat splash'd. Now, Tom's a vag — and so says he to hi, M Pray, larn yourvife to carve, she can't row dry." Oho! thinks I — ve'll have fine doings now, I alvays knows ven I shall have a row; For, like a dog that snarls, her teeth she shows, Quivers her lips, and curls her cock'd-up nose. Bounce from her chair she sprung — to mine she came, And as she spoke, her eyes began to flame : " D'ye think," says she, " you scoundrel ! I'll submit " That vatermen on me shall show their vit ? " I'll let you know I'm none of them there folks •' To bear your cockney-cousin's wulgar jokes 1" In wain I strove to pacify her hire- She took my vig, and toss'd it in the fire : Then seizing by the tail a hot fried plaice, She sent it right slap-dash into my face. The hot grease bung'd both eyes, and burnt ray cheeks, I dances round the room, I squalls, 1 squeaks. Vith that the company began to roar, " At him again !" they said— " veil done ! hancore /" Then cry 'd, " Hark to her !" clapp'd me on the back, And laugh'd till all their sides vere fit to crack. Vith that I snatches up hat, vig, and stick, And vishing all these new friends at Oid Nick, g 2 128 I never says good-by, but valks avay, And leaves my vife the reckoning to defray. Now, I begs leave to or, my good friend Fubbs, How you could bear my matrimonial rubs ? You thought me frumpish, glum, and, fegs ! mayhap, A surly, suiky, discontented chap ; But I'raa man of peace — I hates all rows, And that's vat makes me say — Deuce take my spouse ! - DIALOGUE VIII. Felix and Eugenius.* God bless my Wife. st Such are the joys of virtuous love!" EUGENIUS. Say, shall a ghost, restricted to the right Of rising from his grave to walk ail night. Thus his terrific privilege extend, At broad noon-day, to scare a timid friend ? * Who would not get drunk, die in a ditch, and come to life again in a bone- house, to participate the blesst-d lot of Mr. Felix, who, in this Julia of Julias, has got a spouse of spouses, a wife of wives; his Hymeneal residence is also the very Temple of Temples, that was built on Mount Pa- radise, by that husband of husbands, Lord Lytrieton, a man of ble:sed, happy, affectionate, and most immortal me- mory. 129 Spirit avaunt ! — I exorcise thee — go ! Descend this instant to the realms below ! Wait till the witching time of night — begone ! 'Til time enough to rise " when church-yards yawn.'* Why com'st thou here with fright to blanch my check ? Who's robb'd ? — who's poison'd ? — what's thy busi- ness ? -- speak ! Has Weeping Billy, like Othello Moor, Strangled, in jealous rage, some wretched w ? If so, good ghost, the ruffian's guilt unveil, And to the murder-monger tell thy tale ; But if he's blameless, quick, some proof produce, And round the right neck slip the hangman's noose. Perchance, some trav'ller, murder' d in a cave, Obscurely moulders in an unbless'd grave : If the degraded carcass feels too proud To rot sans coffin, winding-sheet, or shroud, Let him to undertakers state his case, Or to Lord Er — k — e show his piteous face ; Who in obsequial pomp so much delights, That to his goose he gave sepulchral rites !!! The plaintiff ghost shall be redress'd when heard, And have his bones more decent!?/ interred: But charge not me with embassies so sad, While happier jobs may readily be had. All tales of horror from these ears conceal, Ghosts, if they choose, good tidings may reveal ; And oft to men have complaisautly told Behind what stone a miser hides his o- ld. Show me some picture that conceals a nitch, YV here I can find a will to make me rich ; Or, if such secrets spirits can de- i^e, Predict the number of a good fac prize, G 3 130 Fain would I learn, bold shade, what urgent cause Impels thee thus to break all ghostly laws ? Why thus by day-light haunt me in the Park, Could not thy visit be delay'd till dark ? Thou'rt the first ghost,. I'll venture to declare, That ever in this Mall snuff 'd noon- tide air : Methought a ghost was always lank and slim- All pale and mealy, grizzly, gaunt, and grim ; But thou'rt improv'd in looks, and high in flesh, Airy thouseem'st, 'tis true, but plump and fresh, Genteelly drest, and sober too, forsooth ! At which I marvel much, to speak the truth : Thou wert both sot and sloven when alive— The grave does wonders — Lord ! how ghosts do thrive ! FELIX. Well may'st thou keep aloof, and gaze with dread On one long falsely number'd with the dead ; But to convince you that I still exist, Let me, Eugenius, shake thy friendly fist, EUGENIUS. Avaunt 1 — stand back !— -I ne'er shake hands with ghosts, I seek no commerce with hobgoblin hosts : 1 have not, Faustus-like, dispos'd of self — I have not pocketted the Devil's own pelf) I no kind countenance to foul fiends give, On the most disant terms with Genii live; I treat all daemons coolly, and with me Familiar spirits never dare make free : Therefore, Sir Ghost, your courtesy forbear, Nor thus present to me that hand of air. 131 FELIX. Judge by this grasp, and from conviction, own A hand compos'd of good sound flesh and bone. EUGENICS. 'Sdeath ! Mr. Ghost — be gentle, if you please ! Thou'st given my list a most infernal squeeze : I well might venture not to think thee dead, And swear Miss Ctof/io's sheers ne'er cut thy thread. But facts are stubborn things — and 'tis most clear, You cannot be the man you now appear ; Since 'tis a well-known fact, that ten years past, Drunk in a ditch, near Staines, you breath' d your last. I heard it from a man who saw you die, And had you to a bone-house wheel'd hard by. FELIX. O ! sacred be that hour, and blest the wife, Who with an angel's mercy sav'd my life ! A wretch abandon' d, profligate, and base, A lost, unpitied victim of disgrace, In wine I sought a refuge from distress, And sunk redue'd to Mis'ry's last excess : By all mankind deserted and disdain'd, A woman's love unshaken still remain 'd. Yes, one enlighten' d philanthropic maid, Her Christian zeal magnanimous display'd ; Far o'er the sex's proud decorum rose, And with divine compassion felt my woes. The means of mercy with success were us'd, And thro' my seeming corse new life inius'd : lleviv'd by Virtue, Vice alone expir'd, I felt my soul with dawning hopes inspir'd ; ft4 132 Once more with honest pride my bosom swell'd, I felt my mind to glorioas deeds impell'd ; Again 1 quicken' d to the love of fame, And glow 'd ennobled by a virtuous flame. 'From death to life, from brute to human chang'd, To Virtue wedded, and from Vice estrang'd. This was my Julia's work — by her redeem'd, By her converted, cherish' d, and esteem' d, Big emulation thtobh'd in every vein, I strove with honest pride her love to gain : Till my desert was honourably shown, In deeds of worth congenial to her own ; And Love's best vows exchang'd at Hymen's shrine Fix'd the dear maid irrevocably mine, EUCENIUS. Some wives accelerate a husband's doom, And oft, post-haste, dispatch him to the tomb : We read of others, loving, bold, and brave, Who sav'd their lords from an untimely grave. I've heard of Hindoostan's illustrious dames, Who volunteer their bodies to the flames : Great is her high-soul'd sense of just remorse, Who burns in state beside her husband's corse ; And blends her vapours with the last sad smoke Of the poor murder'd lord, whose heart she broke. I've heard of many a wretch depriv'd of breath, Whom Hawes hath rescu'd from the jaws of death. Such blest phenomena we sometimes view — And ev'n your case I now think partly true : Yes, I believe your phoenix of a wife, Dead, tho' she found you, brought you back to life :- 133 But when I boldly find myself assurM, Gamesters maybe reclaim'd, and drunkards cur'd, Such miracles impossible I judge, Shrug up my shoulders, Felix, and cry — Fudge / FELIX. You never felt of love those sacred fires, That wake chaste hopes and delicate desires, Refine gross senses, and our souls excite To joys that soar above all coarse delight. EUGENIUS. What, can the god, who takes our hearts by storm- Can Love, triumphant Love ! such feats perform ? Make gamesters thus cut cards, and dice decline ? Make rakes grow chaste, and drunkards leave off wine? Methought Love's arrows always wrought a curse, Could soon turn good to bad, and bad to worse ; Make scholars dunces, wits to ciowns translate, Make grave philosophers like coxcombs prate, Make poets madmen, honest men rank knaves, Make heroes cowards, and make 'yrants slaves, Make Apathy red hot, make Zeal giow cool, Saints play the dev'l, and sages plav the fool. Cupid, methought, in pranks like these display'd His busv, meddling, mischief-making trade; But lr> ! this mighty \ot to rest and peace, (Patron alike of love-sick men and geese , A prodigy of kindness shews to thee, In him a friend indeed in need we see; Quack-like (at least in ail but handling fees), He cures thee of incurable disease ; g5 134 Then as his magic dart is brandishM thrice, Cries " Presto ! — quick ! — begone !" to ev'ry vice, And turns thee, if thy tale's well understood, From all that's bad, to ev'ry thing that's good. Love wrought for thee a miracle outright, That far exceeds the Black-a-moor w r ash'd white ; Nor hath the wheel-borne dame, like Cupid blind ? Or his confed'rate Hymen, prov'd less kind, Who gave thee the best gift beneath the skies, A wife so fair, so virtuous, and so wise. FELIX. How can my thanks to Hymen be confess'd ! Or how my vaiue of the gift express'd ! Whene'er to Heav'n I breathe my grateful vows, I still invoke new blessings on my spouse. Thus all my pray'rs begin — thus all conclude, With Heav'n's best mercies may she live indu'd! God bless my wife ! I gratefully exclaim, For ever lov'd and honour'd be her name! Succeeding years her growing worth confess, Each hour I find new cause my lot to bless : Let Young, let Shaw, let Littleton decide M How much the wife is dearer than the bride.' F Such, such alone can feel, yet ne'er relate, The nameless blessings of the married state : When temoers harmonize, when spirits blend, And in the wife we find our first best friend. EUGEMUS. Are there no days of brooding discontent, When husbands change their minds, and wives repent : 135 No bitter hours of sorrow and disgust, When men connubial fetters wish to burst : When the poor slave from jail would fain break loose, And extricate his neck from Hymen's noose ? What would you give, friend Felix, to be free, And lead a jovial single life like me ? FELIX. As soon blind moles their earthy dens shall leave f Like fish, the billows of the deep to cleave : As soon the salamander shall desire For purling brooks, to quit his native fire : As soon the river's bed, a trout shall yield, To seek repose on clover, in a field : As soon shall aldermen from feasts abstain, And Martin Luther wish himself Tom Paine : As soon M'Gregor shall deny his clan, As soon an angel wish himself a man, As I desire those fetters to divide, Which Cupid interwove, and Hymen tied. When lambs eat wolves, when horses cease to trot, When Nelson's name in England is forgot : When day and night alternate cease to reign, When order dies, and " chaos comes again :" Then I'll forsake my babes, desert my wife, And lead, like thee, a joyless single life. EUGEXIUS. Whoe'er yet pluck'd a rose without a thorn? Who free from tares expects to find his corn? Canst thou with confidence presume to go And claim the Flitch of Bacon at Dunmow ? G 6 136 Canst thou live stinted to one home-made wine* And bear off Partridge, thus, each day to dine ? Confess a well-known truth — possession tires, Satiety rakes out all am'rous fires, Dissolves each spell, each magic charm destroys,, And soon converts to gall, love's sweetest joys* The servant-horse if yok'd to drag the mill, Denies obedience to his master's will, And o'er his eyes a fillet must be found, E'er he'll consent to drudge his toilsome round*. Perpetual sameness ! — O ! that word forbear, The thought's enough to drive me to despair* FELIX. Sameness ! — satiety ! — such words are vain £ Mere exhalations of a coxcomb's brain. Some yawning listless fop without a mind, To mere corporeal happiness confm'd, In fancy's famine, and invention's dearth, To such degrading notions first gave birth. Had men ten minds, such means would prove too small, Creation's beaut'es might engrave them all : Still social converse brings to reason's view, Joys ever fresh, and pleasures ever new. Nor e'er shall wisdom's appetite be cloy'd, Till nature's last best secret is enjoy'd. When kindred minds in virtuous union meet, Connubial pleasure never grows replete. Some joys remain for ever unpossess'd, A void is left, vet aches not, in the breast. How may such bliss be nam'd to folly's tribe, They could not comprehend, could I describe. 137 EUGENIUS. Still there are crosses in the nuptial state, Children at least a weight of cares create ; Spread o'er declining age a ceaseless gloom, And bring grey hairs with sorrow to the tomb. FELIX. How dear, how welcome are such cares to me> Seat me a rosy stripling on each knee ; For pleasing is the task in fabled lore, Their tender minds with useful truths to store; And as they lisp the rudiments of speech, Each moral element of worth to teach : Dear the paternal office to excite A love of justice, and a sense of right. While in my darling girl 1 fondly trace The lovely miniature of Julia's face, Ah! with what rapture is my babe caress'd, With what emotion folded to my breast ? Wert thou the parent of a child like this, Then, then Eugenius, you might guess my bliss. EUGENIUS. Oh ! Mr. Felix, truly thou'rt endu'd With a blest wi r e, and a most happy brood : If this is Hymen's bondage, who'd live free? Heav'ns ! what a paradise must wedlocK be? I'll have a wife, by all the pow'rs above 1 But ere we wed, 'tis right to fall in love. Who'll make the worthiest spouse, I'll leave to you. Direct my choice, and teach me how to woo. Some second J ulia on thy friend confer, The wife I marry, must resemble her. 13S FELIX. Then single thou art fated to remain, The hope to find her equal, must be vaim EUGENIUS. If getting drunk, and dying in a ditch, Can make a man so happy, good, and rich, Who would not wish your brute-like fate to share, To find a wife so virtuous and so fair ? That love in such a wretch could work such change, And that you still exist appears so strange, That to the truth I will not yield belief, Till once again I see you eat roast beef. Give me your arm, step home with me and dine, To wash your story down requires much wine. You shall get drunk enough before you go, If ghosts are spirit-proof, I fain would know. To love and friendship largely we'll carouze, And my first toast shall be, God bless your Spouse. FELIX. If that's your toast, I'm bound to play my part, I'll drink, God bless my wife with all my heart. 139 PHAON to SAPPHO. -Ah ! with what fears, what grief, what rage possess'd, What frantic demon fires my Sappho's breast ; While those lamenting, tuneful strains 1 read, Where all the Muses, all the Graces plead : Where sorrow, rage, and jealousy by turns, But love throughout the whole triumphant burns: What rending conflicts, what emotions move A heart that beats but to return her love ! In each soft verse her grief too plain appears, Each plaintive line is still bedew'd with tears. Too well the sympathies of love succeed, For what in tears, she wrote ; in tears, I read : Yet can her Muse unfeelingly demand, If Phaon's eyes forget not Sappho's hand ? Can I forget that love-devoted shade, Where Sappho's writing first these eyes survey'd; Where, on a laurel's stem, 1 spied my name, And read the first avowal of her flame ? Our cyphers, close commix'd, she carv'd above, And then beneath, she trembling wrote J lote* Thus my response with grateful warmth I made, " Phaon accepts thy vows, O tuneful maid!" Our cyphers then in closer bonds I twin'd, And wrote I love upon the laurel's rhind. How oft that tree I folded to my breast, What ardent kisses on that bark I press'd, When, as I crown'd her with i f s fairest boughs, I made a fond renewal of my vows— 140 Vows of an honest heart, a faithful mind, That long have bound me, and shall ever bind. Yet Sappho wakes to wrath her glowing Muse 5 The tenderest of lovers to accuse. Yet can that Muse unfeelingly demand If Phaon's eyes forget not Sappho's hand ! May HeavVs worst wrath pursue me when I prove False to thy worth, and perjur'd to thy love. When on my Sappho, now belov'd so well, My soul no more with fondues- longs to dwell ; When past delights no more my thoughts employ 9 And retrospection yields no sense of joy, May I of mem'ry then live dispossess'd, And all good hopes be banish 'd from my breast. Tho' iEtna's fields thy Phaon long detain, (Those fields now vocal with his mournful strain) ; Tho' Etna's fields are scorch' d with rao-ino* fires, Cold are those flames compar'd to love's desires. Sicilian nymphs possess no charms for me, Ere they can please, they must resemble thee. And where can Phaon find a nymph so rare, So wise, so witty, and to him so fair. What nymph with Sappho can for praise contend, Whose matchless gifts so far the sex transcend? Harmonious minstrel ! now methmks I hear Those strains so plaintive, and that voice so clear. Each song, each ode, each interrupting kiss, Are all alike provocatives of bliss : Eternal motives of delight they prove, " For O ! how vast a memory has Love ! Yet Sappho's Muse can scornfully demand If Phaon's eyes forget not Sappho's hand ! 141 O write not thus ' — resume th' Impassion M lyre, But sing no strains but such as love inspire : Not e'en Apollo's lays so soft appear, So exquisitely sweet to Pliaon's ear. Love bids the coldest breast with fancy glow, And on the dullest fawns can wit bestow ; But thou, by Heav'n 1 with powers superior blcss'd, Thou art thyself a Muse, the Tenth and best. But O ! forbear in wrath the lyre to sound, Nor seek with tuneful jealousy to wound. These keen aspersions of thy charms forbear, Let ev'ry charm once more become thy care: Once more in dress display thy matchless taste, Let purple robes embrace that graceful waist. Let costly gems upon thy fingers shine, Still wear the plighted ring that once was mine ; That ring exchang'd for thine, still fondly worn, The ring I crave thee when our vows were sworn. Still twine fresh wreaths of laurel round thy head, On which the best perfumes their dews have shed. In chains of gold thy radiant tresses bind, Nor spread them wildly to the wanton wind. And O forget not, when most gayiy dress'd, With Phaon's fav'nte flow'r to deck thy breast, Pluck'd from a plant that but in Paphos grows, Love's mystic tree, that bears a golden rose. Again, dear nymph, resume such arts as these, Tho' none so little needs such arts to please. Too many charms, alas ! chose looks possess, And need no pow'rs to captivate from diess. To our dear babe, love's last most sacred tie, The absent father's tenderness supply; 14£ Of fond endearments give a two-fold share, O watch its safety with redoubled care. To Love's best luxuries your soul resign, And while its lips are kiss'd, believe them mine. Let it with all thy tenderness be press'd Close to thy heart, yet softly to thy breast : That breast where Phaon oft his cheek reclin'd, While ev'ry passion of his heart refln'd. O then how full, how perfect was our bliss, When our souls mix'd in each luxurious kiss; Kisses that none but Love's disciples know, Kisses that none but lovers can bestow : When all is extasy, without alloy, And one continued scene of mutual joy, Alas ! those scenes how chang'd, those joys are past, Too great, too fierce, too exquisite to last ! Are they for ever gone, my Sappho, say ? Can they return no more ? O yes they may ! Alas ! till then I only can deplore The fate that drove me from the Lesbian shore. How could I, Sappho, feign my grief to you, And coldly greet you with a last adieu ? Canst thou believe I calmly could have said, Farewel, my love, adieu my Lesbian maid. A wretch far banish' d from that happy clime, Where endless pleasures wing'd the fleeting time. Far from my Sappho now each hour is past, More long, more dull, more wretched than the last. The lawns and groves, the vales and meads appear Parch' d, wither' d, fruitless, desolate, and drear. Now the grand orb, whose all refulgent blaze Was once the object of devoutest praise, 143 Can charm no more, unmovM I see him rise, And view his setting with indifferent eyes. Nay, the chaste moon, whose trembling light displayed The love-devoted bow'r my Sappho made, Where each dear emblem flower of passion join'i The bow'r in which my Sappho first prov'i kind ; The changing moon has lost each pleasing pow'r, For now no more she lights me to the bow'r. The birds, whose songs I once so fondly pnz'd, Are noisy, dull, detested, and despis'd ; All but the nightingale, whose plaintive moan Displays a grief congenial to my own : Responsive to her dirge my griefs I vent. And my lost love as tenderly lament. How oft to heav'n I raise my suppliant breath, And seek with tears the friendly hand of death ; Yet fear the weak petition to receive, And wish for Love aud Sappho still to live : Still in her arms I centre all my joy, No time, no distance, can my love destroy. My Sappho's image lives in ev'ry thought, To ev'ry object her dear name is taught. In ev'ry dream my soul deluded proves The hopes, the fears, and pleasures of our love*. Ah ! can I e'er those past delights forget ! No, like his Sappho, Phaon feels them yet. Then O, what cause of anguish can she find, What jealous frenzy thus distracts her mind? Far from thy breast dispel th' unworthy pain, 'Tis Phaon sues, shall Phaon's pray'r be vain ! The charge impos'd on me, in turn I give, And cry, " be mindful of our loves and live.** 144 Far from Leucadia's fatal steep remove, Nor seek from death the remedy of love. Check thy despair, renounce the rash design, Nor consecrate thy harp at Phcebus' shrine ; Or soon shall Phaon there his lyre bestow. And seek his Sappho in the realms below. In pity, Venus, hear a lover's pray'rs, Grant me the pow'r to soothe my Sappho's cares, Let this epistle check her rising fears, And stop the tender progress of her tears. 'Tis true, that rudely penn'd in haste it flies, Unfit to meet the tuneful Sappho's eyes. Yet judge not, Sappho, Phaon's love the less, Because no graceful tropes his thoughts express: Nor scorn the strains that faithfully rehearse, What passion wildly dictates to his verse. No polish'd style is mine, no skilful art, Each sentence springs spontaneous from the heart, Inspir'd by thee, I caught the spark, 1 own, Which warm'd a breast to ev'ry Muse unknown ; Abreast, before my Sappho's love inspir'd. Which no enthusiast glow of fancy fir'd ; Accept my verses, and their faults excuse, And judge with eyes of love the lover's Muse. Nor will my Sappho scorn the welcome lays Which fly the harbingers of happier days. Expand thine arms that Phaon to receive, Who now disdains for aught but thee to live. Ail foes, all fears, all perils I defy. Together, Sappho, let us live and die. My soul is all convuls'd with fierce desires, Fond expectations, and tumultuous fires. I come, I fly, impatience wings my feet, Warm as love's god, and as his arrows fleet. M5 BOILEAlPs EIGHTH SATIRE, FREELY TRANSLATED. CJ)f all the animals who walk or creep, Skim the fresh air, or swim the briny deep, From Rome to China, Paris to Japan, The worst and most irrational is Man, ( What ! is a worm, an ant, a pigmy fly ! 6 A vermin loathsome to the human eye, ' What! are the croaking natives of the fen, * Are frogs and toads superior to men ? * What! are the grazing hulls, and browzing goats, * More wise than men array'd in golc-lac'd coats?' You shake your head, and think you hear amiss, Are men less wise than brutes ? I answer, yes. You tell me, man is nature's lawful king, To him belong the glories of the spring: For him the seasons yield their fruitful stores, And Ceres' horn a full abundance pours. To him the vassal brutes must all submit, For he alone is bless' d with sense and wit. I grant his reason ; grant, bis pow'r to rule, But thence infer that he's an arrant fool. " To rank an idiot with a stupid calf, " Is lawful satire, and may raise a laugh ; " But to a grave logician more is due, ** I wait to hear you prove your doctrine true." 14S Nay, then, let Reason judge our cause — proceed ! Open your brief in form, get up and plead ; Let us like two sage barristers dispute— You're plaintiff Man, and I defendant Brute. Say, what is wisdom ? — Come, define the term- Does it consist in being cool and firm — In living proof to ev'ry base desire, And all the assaults of Envy, Hate, and Ire— In having strength temptations to withstand- In equanimity and self-command. O'er hills and vales th' industrious emmets roam, And bring with toil a plenteous harvest home : So when the howling north winds keenly blow, And winter comes array' d in frost and snow, Safe in their nests the cautious ants remain, And live all winter on their summer's gain. No senseless whim this prudent insect sways, To brave the fury of December's days ; Or skulk at home when summer's genial soil Invites his labour, and rewards his toil. Dare men this school of industry despise ? Are we thus prudent, politic, and wise ? Shall I, by Cupid or the Devil beset, To Hymen's altar lead a vain coquette ?