ALEXIS. (Book xiii. § 7, p. 894.)
What abject wretches do we make ourselves
By giving up the freedom and delights
Of single life to a capricious woman!
Then, if she brings an ample fortune too,
Her pride, and her pretensions are increased,
And what should be a benefit, becomes
A bitter curse, and grievous punishment.
The anger of a man may well be borne,
"Tis quick, and sudden, but as soon subsides;
It has a honied sweetness when compared
To that of woman. If a man receives
An injury, he may resent at first,
But he will quickly pardon. Women first
Offer the injury, then to increase
Th' offence, instead of soothing, they inflict
A deeper wound by obstinate resentment-
Neglect what's fit and proper to be done,
But eagerly pursue the thing they should not ;-
And then they grow fantastical withal,
When they are perfectly in health complain
In faint and feeble tone, "they're sick, they die.”
ARISTOPHON. (Book xiii. § 8, p. 894.)
A man may marry once without a crime,
But cursed is he who weds a second time.-CUMBERLAND.
MENANDER. (Book xiii. § 8, p. 895.)
A. While prudence guides, change not, at any rate,
A life of freedom for the married state:
I ventured once to play that desperate game,
And therefore warn you not to do the same.
B. The counsel may be sage which you advance,
But I'm resolved to take the common chance.
A. Mild gales attend that voyage of your life,
And waft you safely through the sea of strife:
Not the dire Libyan, nor Ægean sea,
Where out of thirty ships scarce perish three;
But that, where daring fools most dearly pay,
Where all that sail are surely cast away.-FAWKES.
(Book xiii. § 13, p. 899.)
As slowly I return'd from the Piræus,
My mind impress'd with all the various pains,
And pungent griefs, that torture human life,
I thus began to reason with myself.
The painters and the sculptors, who pretend
By cunning art to give the form of Love,
Know nothing of his nature, for in truth
He's neither male nor female, god or man,
Nor wise, nor foolish, but a compound strange,
Partaking of the qualities of each,
And an epitome of all in one.
He has the strength and prowess of a man,
The weak timidity of helpless woman;
In folly furious, yet in prudence wise
And circumspect. Mad as an untamed beast,
In strength and hardihood invincible,
Then for ambition he's a very demon.
I swear by sage Minerva and the gods,
I do not know his likeness, one whose nature
Is so endued with qualities unlike
The gentle name he bears.-ANON.
One day as slowly sauntering from the port,
A thousand cares conflicting in my breast,
Thus I began to commune with myself—
Methinks these painters misapply their art,
And never knew the being which they draw;
For mark! their many false conceits of Love.
Love is nor male nor female, man nor god,
Nor with intelligence nor yet without it,
But a strange compound of all these, uniting
In one mix'd essence many opposites;
A manly courage with a woman's fear,
The madman's phrenzy in a reasoning mind,
The strength of steel, the fury of a beast,
The ambition of a hero-something 'tis,
But by Minerva and the gods I swear!
I know not what this nameless something is.
EUBULUS. (Book xiii. § 13, p. 899.)
Why, foolish painter, give those wings to Love?
Love is not light, as my sad heart can prove :
Love hath no wings, or none that I can see;
If he can fly-oh! bid him fly from me!-CUMBERLAND.
THEOPHILUS. (Book xiii. § 14, p. 900.)
He who affirms that lovers are all mad,
Or fools, gives no strong proof of his own sense;
For if from human life we take the joys
And the delights of love, what is there left
That can deserve a better name than death?
For instance, now, I love a music girl,
A virgin too, and am I therefore mad?
For she's a paragon of female beauty;
Her form and figure excellent; her voice
Melodiously sweet; and then her air
Has dignity and grace. With what delight
I gaze upon her charms! More than you
At sight of him who for the public shows
Gives you free entrance to the theatre.-ANON.
If love be folly, as the schools would prove,
The man must lose his wits, who falls in love;
Deny him love, you doom the wretch to death,
And then it follows he must lose his breath,
Good sooth! there is a young and dainty maid
I dearly love, a minstrel she by trade;
What then? must I defer to pedant rule,
And own that love transforms me to a fool ?
Not I, so help me! By the gods I swear,
The nymph I love is fairest of the fair;
Wise, witty, dearer to her poet's sight
Than piles of money on an author's night;
Must I not love her then? Let the dull sot,
Who made the law, obey it! I will not.-CUMBERLAND.
ARISTOPHON. (Book xiii. § 14, p. 901.)
Love, the disturber of the peace of heaven,
And grand fomenter of Olympian feuds,
Was banish'd from the synods of the gods:
They drove him down to earth at the expense
Of us poor mortals, and curtail'd his wings
To spoil his soaring and secure themselves
From his annoyance-Selfish, hard decree!
For ever since he roams th' unquiet world,
The tyrant and despoiler of mankind.—CUMBERLAND.
ALEXIS. (Book xiii. § 14, p. 901.)
The man who holds true pleasure to consist
In pampering his vile body, and defies
Love's great divinity, rashly maintains
Weak impious war with an immortal god.
The gravest master that the schools can boast
Ne'er train'd his pupils to such discipline,
As Love his votaries, unrivall'd power,
The first great deity-and where is he,
So stubborn and determinedly stiff,
But shall at some time bend the knee to Love,
And make obeisance to his mighty shrine?
IBYCUS. (Book xiii. § 17, p. 903.)
Sweetest flower, Euryale!
Whom the maids with tresses fair,
Sister Graces, make their care-
Thee Cythera nourish'd-thee
Pitho, with the radiant brow;
And 'mid bowers where roses blow
Led thy laughing infancy.-BLAND.
ALEXIS. (Book xiii. § 18, p. 904.)
Dost thou see any fellow poll'd and shaven,
And askest me from whence the cause should come?
He goes unto the wars to filch and raven,
And play such pranks he cannot do at home.
Such pranks become not those that beards do weare:
And what harm is it if long beards we beare?
For so it is apparent to be seene,
That we are men, not women, by our chin.-MOLLE.
TIMOCLES. (Book xiii. § 22, p. 908.)
Wretch that I am,
She had my love, when a mere caper-gatherer,
And fortune's smiles as yet were wanting to her.
I never pinch'd nor spared in my expenses,
Yet now- -doors closely barr'd are all the recompence
That waits on former bounties ill bestow'd.-MITCHELL.
ALEXIS. (Book xiii. § 23, p. 908.)
They fly at all, and, as their funds increase,
With fresh recruits they still augment their stock,
Moulding the young novitiate to her trade;
Form, features, manners, everything so changed,
That not a trace of former self is left.
Is the wench short? a triple sole of cork
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