Charles Cotton (1630–1687)

THOU fool! if madness be so rife

That, spite of wit, thou’lt have a wife,

I’ll tell thee what thou must expect,—

After the honey-moon neglect

All the sad days of thy whole life!

To that a world of woe and strife,

Which of is marriage the effect;

And thou thy own woe’s architect,

Thou fool!

Thou’lt nothing find but disrespect,

Ill words i’ th’ scolding dialect,

For she’ll all tabor be or fife.

Then prithee go and whet thy knife,

And from this fate thyself protect,

Thou fool!