T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Advice to Bachelors
Anonymous(From Merry Drollery, 1691) HE that intends to take a Wife, | |
I’ll tell him what a kind of life | |
He must be sure to lead; | |
If she’s a young and tender heart, | |
Not documented in Love’s Art, | 5 |
Much teaching she will need. | |
But where there is no path, one may | |
Be tired before he finds the way, | |
Nay, when he’s at his treasure, | |
The gap perhaps will prove so straight, | 10 |
That he for entrance long may wait, | |
And make a toil of’s pleasure. | |
Or if one old, and past her doing, | |
He will the Chamber-maid be wooing, | |
To buy her ware the cheaper, | 15 |
But if her choose one most formose, | |
Ripe for’t, she’ll prove libidinous, | |
Argus himself shan’t keep her. | |
For when those things are neatly drest. | |
They’ll entertain each wanton guest, | 20 |
Nor for their honour care, | |
If any give their pride a fall, | |
Th’ have learned a trick to bear withal, | |
So you their charges bear. | |
So if you chance to play your game | 25 |
With a dull, fat, gross, heavy Dame, | |
Your riches to encrease, | |
Alas! she will but jeer you for’t; | |
Bid you to find out better sport, | |
Lie with a pot of grease. | 30 |
If meager —— be thy delight, | |
She’ll conquer in venerial fight, | |
And waste thee to the bones: | |
Such kind of girls, like to your Mill, | |
The more you give, the more crave they will, | 35 |
Or else they’ll grind the stones. | |
If black, ’tis odds she’s dev’lish proud, | |
If short, Xantippe like, too loud, | |
If long, she’ll lazy be, | |
Foolish (the Proverb saith) if fair, | 40 |
If wise and comely, danger’s there, | |
Lest she do cuckold thee. | |
If she bring store of money, such | |
Are like to domineer too much, | |
Prove Mistris, no good wife, | 45 |
And when they cannot keep you under, | |
They’ll fill the house with scolding thunder | |
What worse than such a life; | |
But if her Dowry only be | |
Beauty, farewell felicity, | 50 |
Thy fortunes cast away. | |
Thou must be sure to satisfy her | |
In belly, and in back-desire, | |
To labour night and day. | |
And rather than her pride give o’er, | 55 |
She’ll turn perhaps an honoured whore, | |
And thou’lt Acteon’d be, | |
Whilst like Acteon thou mayst weep, | |
To think thou forced art to keep | |
Such as devour thee. | 60 |
If being noble thou dost wed | |
A servile Creature, basely bred, | |
Thy Family it defaces; | |
If being mean, one nobly born, | |
She’ll swear t’ exalt a Courtlike horn, | 65 |
Thy low descent it graces. | |
If one tongue be too much for any, | |
Then he who takes a wife with many, | |
Knows not what may betide him; | |
She whom he did for learning honour, | 70 |
To scold by book will take upon her, | |
Rhetorically chide him. | |
If both her Parents living are, | |
To please them you must take great care, | |
Or spoil your future fortune, | 75 |
But if departed they are this life, | |
You must be parent to your wife, | |
And father all, be certain. | |
If bravely drest, fair faced and witty, | |
She’ll oft be gadding to the City, | 80 |
Nor may you say her nay, | |
She’ll tell you (if you her deny) | |
Since women have Terms, she knows not why, | |
But they still keep them may. | |
If you make choice of Country ware, | 85 |
Of being Cuckold there’s less fear, | |
But stupid honesty | |
May teach her how to sleep all night; | |
And take a great deal more delight | |
To milk the Cows than thee. | 90 |
Concoction makes their blood agree | |
Too near, where’s consanguinity; | |
Then let no kin be chosen: | |
He loseth one part of his treasure, | |
Who thus confineth all his pleasure | 95 |
To th’ arms of his first Cousin. | |
He’ll never have her at command, | |
Who takes a wife at second hand; | |
Then choose no widowed mother: | |
The first cut, of that bit you love, | 100 |
If others had, why mayn’t you prove | |
But taster to another? | |
Besides, if she bring children many, | |
’Tis like by thee she’ll not have any, | |
But prove a barren Doe; | 105 |
Or if by them, she ne’er had one, | |
By thee ’tis likely she’ll have none, | |
Whilst thou for weak back go. | |
For there where other Gard’ners have been sowing | |
Their seed, but ne’er could find it growing, | 110 |
You must expect so too; | |
And where the Terra Incognita | |
S’ o’erplow’d, you must it fallow lay, | |
And still for weak back go. | |
Then trust not to a maiden face, | 115 |
Nor confidence in widow’s place, | |
Those weaker vessels may | |
Spring-leak, or split against a rock, | |
And when your Fame’s wrapt in a smock, | |
’Tis easily cast away. | 120 |
Yet be she fair, foul, short, or tall, | |
You for a time may love them all, | |
Call them your soul, your life, | |
And one by one them undermine, | |
As Courtizan, or Concubine, | 125 |
But never as married wife. | |
He who considers this, may end the strife, | |
Confess no trouble like unto a Wife. | |