THE CHOICE OF A WIFE.
Ye Gods attend! – I long for honey,
And all the sweets of matrimony:
But as I won't run helter-skelter,
I wish to bargain for my halter.
Assist, ye powers, who guide thro' life,
And give a tender virtuous wife.
No forward mynx, with giggling air,
Whose tongue an inch or two might spare;
Lavish of dress, yet never clean,
Intent to see and to be seen,
Whose heart beats pat—produce a man,
She'd teaze me as she plagues her fan.
No formal prude, with decent smile,
Emblem of innocence and guile.
No squemish Miss, who can't bear health;
With coffers fill'd with store of wealth.
Tho' jolly, blooming, fair, and fat,
An heiress must be delicate.
I want not flippant vain conceit,
Nor those who wont at table eat;
Or, by the jing, I'll be her sentry,
Whene'er she steals off to the pantry.
I hate malevolence and pride,
Tho' wealth sits dangling by her side.
Keep far from me a damsel stupid,
Or make me deaf, thou devil Cupid!
Nor give, to make me most unhappy,
The lass whom Scotsmen call a taupy.
I want not passion ever blind,
Nor one who leaves her sex behind.
Tho' blest with millions—what are riches,
If I must feel she wears the breeches?
Send me a pair of eagle's wings,
To shun those who shun sacred things.
That heart must be devoid of good,
Who flies from heaven and gratitude.
But she who tastes of love devine,
Sure never could prove false to mine.
Keep to yourselves Miss Affectation,
Or she who slights for provocation;
Like yonder beauty, lo! she comes;
A murmur hastens thro' the rooms;
Look at the pretty smirking creature,
Well placing ev'ry shadowy feature;
For tis the glass that gives her art,
And paint and patches make her smart;
Behold she smiles—now scarce is civil—
The angel now—and now the devil.
On all the deals some mark of favour,
The puppies gape, but none will have her:
Her lot will be, if married, cares,
If not, the jilt must walk up stairs,
And take her stocking, primly fitting,
And mind her monkey or her kitten.
The fly coquet whom grace adorns,
Would fill my dreams with horns, horns, horns,
Give me no languid squeamish creature,
Wearied for ay, reverse of nature:
But let me choose—The girl for me,
Must wear auld-fashion'd modesty;
Sweet, kind, and virtuous, ever pleas'd,
Nor e'er with jealous humours seiz'd;
Soft, winning soft, not prone to speak,
Where blushes deck the lovely cheek;
Accomplish'd, innocent and gay,
Devoid of airs, not bent on play;
Who could a household well attend,
Yet be a comforter and friend.
She would excuse my foibles all;
If large, her love would make them small;
Whose every word some good instills,
With learning that ne'er saw novels;
Winning always by her yielding:
Heav'n! what a castle am I building?
Give me fortune, give me favour;
Do be kind and let me have her.
When marriage springs from such a source,
Ne'er will the world behold divorce;
But joy will conquer envious strife,
And peace be kept 'twixt man and wife.