So men are by themselves betray'd,
To quit the freedom they enjoy'd,

And run their necks into a noose,

They'd break 'em after to break loose.
As fome, whom death would not depart,
Have done the feat themselves by art.
Like Indian widows, gone to bed
In flaming curtains to the dead:
And men as often dangled for 't, :
And yet will never leave the sport.
Nor do the ladies want excufe
For all the stratagems they use,

To gain th' advantage of the set,

And lurch the amorous rook and cheat.

For as a Pythagorean foul

Runs thro' all beasts, and fish, and fowl, .
And has a smack of ev'ry one,

So love does, and has ever done;

635

0640

645

650

And therefore, tho' 'tis ne'er fo fond,
Takes strangely to the vagabond.
'Tis but an ague that's reverst,

Whose hot fit takes the patient first,
That after burns with cold as much
As iron in Greenland does the touch:
Melts in the furnace of defire,

Like glafs, that's but the ice of fire;
And when his heat of fancy 's over,

Becomes as hard and frail a lover:

For when he's with love-powder laden,

And prim'd and cock'd by Mifs or Madam,
The smallest sparkle of an eye

Gives fire to his artillery,

And off the loud oaths go, but, while

They're in the very act, recoil:

Hence 'tis fo few dare take their chance

Without a fep'rate maintenance;

655

660

665

And widows, who have try'd one lover,

Trust none again 'till they 've made over; 670 Or if they do, before they marry,

The foxes weigh the geese they carry;

And ere they venture o'er a stream,

Know how to fize themselves, and them.

Whence wittiest ladies always choose
To undertake the heaviest goose :

For now the world is grown so wary,
That few of either sex dare marry,

But rather truft on tick t' amours,

The cross and pile for better or worse;

A mode that is held honourable,
As well as French, and fashionable:

675

680

For when it falls out for the best,

Where both are incommoded least,

In foul and body two unite,

To make up one hermaphrodite,

685

I

Still amorous, and fond, and billing,
Like Philip and Mary on a fhilling,
They 've more punctilios and capriches
Between the petticoat and breeches,

More petulant extravagances,

Than poets make 'em in romances;
Tho', when their heroes 'fpouse the dames,
We hear no more of charms and flames;
For then their late attracts decline,
And turn as eager as prick'd wine ;
And all their catterwauling tricks,
In earnest to as jealous piques,
Which th' ancients wifely fignify'd
By th' yellow mantos of the bride.
For jealousy is but a kind

Of clap and grincam of the mind,
The natural effect of love,

As other flames and aches prove:

690

695

700

But all the mischief is, the doubt

On whose account they first broke out;

For tho' Chineses go to bed,

And lie-in in their ladies ftead,

And, for the pains they took before,

Are nurs'd and pamper'd to do more ;

Our green-men do it worse, when th' hap
To fall in labour of a clap;

Both lay the child to one another,

But who's the father, who the mother,
'Tis hard to fay in multitudes,

Or who imported the French goods.
But health and sickness b'ing all one,
Which both engag'd before to own,
And are not with their bodies bound
To worship, only when they're found,
Both give and take their equal shares
Of all they fuffer by false wares;

705

710

715

720