A Grandfire, or a Grandame, taints the Blood;
And feldom three Descents continue Good.
Were Virtue by Descent, a noble Name
Cou'd never villanize his Father's Fame:
But, as the first, the last of all the Line,
Wou'd like the Sun ev'n in Descending shine.
Take Fire; and bear it to the darkest House,
Betwixt King Arthur's Court and Caucafus,
If you depart, the Flame shall still remain,
And the bright Blaze enlighten all the Plain:
Nor, till the Fewel perish, can decay,
By Nature form'd on Things combustible to prey.
Such is not Man, who mixing better Seed
With worse, begets a base degen'rate Breed:
The Bad corrupts the Good, and leaves behind
No Trace of all the great Begetter's Mind.
The Father finks within his Son, we fee,
And often rifes in the third Degree;
If better Luck, a better Mother give:
Chance gave us Being, and by Chance we live.
Such as our Atoms were, ev'n such are we,
Or call it Chance, or strong Neceffity,
Thus, loaded with dead weight, the Willis free.
And thus it needs must be: For Seed conjoin'd
Lets into Nature's Work th' imperfect Kind:
But Fire, th'Enliv'ner of the general Frame,
Is one, its Operation still the fame.
Its Principle is in it self: While ours
Works,asConfederates War, with mingled Pow'rs;
Or Man, or Woman, whichsoever fails:
And, oft, the Vigour of the Worse prevails.
Æther with Sulphur blended alters Hue,
And casts a dusky Gleam of Sodom blue.
Thus in a Brute, their ancient Honour ends,
And the fair Mermaid in a Fish descends:
The Line is gone; no longer Duke or Earl;
But, by himself degraded, turns a Churl.
Nobility of Blood is but Renown
Of thy great Fathers by their Virtue known,
And a long trail of Light, to thee descending down.
If in thy Smoke it ends: Their Glories shine;
But Infamy and Villanage are thine.
Then what I faid before is plainly show'd,
That true Nobility proceeds from God:
Not left us by Inheritance, but giv'n
By Bounty of our Stars, and Grace of Heav'n.
Thus from a Captive Servius Tullus rose,
Whom for his Virtues the first Romans chose :
Fabritius from their Walls repell'd the Foe,
Whose noble Hands had exercis'd the Plough.
From hence, my Lord, and Love, I thus conclude,
That tho' my homely Ancestors were rude,
Mean as I am, yet I may have the Grace
To make you Father of a generous Race:
And Noble then am I, when I begin,
In Virtue cloath'd, to cast the Rags of Sin:
If Poverty be my upbraided Crime,
And you believe in Heav'n, there was a time
When He, the great Controller of our Fate,
Deign'd to be Man, and liv'd in low Estate:
Which he who had the World at his dispose,
If Poverty were Vice, wou'd never chuse.
Philosophers have faid, and Poets sing,
That a glad Poverty's an honest Thing.
Content is Wealth, the Riches of the Mind;
And happy He who can that Treasure find.
But the base Miser starves amidst his Store,
Broods on his Gold, and griping still at more,
Sits fadly pining, and believes he's Poor,
The ragged Beggar, tho' he wants Relief,
Has not to lose, and sings before the Thief.
Want is a bitter and a hateful Good,
Because its Virtues are not understood:
Yet many Things, impoffible to Thought,
Have been by Need to full Perfection brought:
The daring of the Soul proceeds from thence,
Sharpness of Wit, and active Diligence:
Prudence at once, and Fortitude, it gives,
And, if in Patience taken, mends our Lives;
For ev'n that Indigence that brings me low,
Makes, me my felf, and Him above, to know.
A Good which none would challenge, few wou'd
A fair Possession, which Mankind refuse. [chuse,
If we from Wealth to Poverty defcend,
Want gives to know the Flatt'rer from the Friend.
If I am Old and Ugly, well for you,
No leud Adult'rer will my Love pursue.
Nor Jealousie, the Bane of Marry'd Life,
Shall haunt you, for a wither'd homely Wife:
For Age, and Ugliness, as all agree,
Are the best Guards of Female Chastity.
Yet since I see your Mind is Worldly bent, I'll do my best to further your Content. And therefore of two Gifts in my Dispose, Think ere you speak, I grant you leave to chuse : Wou'd you I should be still Deform'd, and Old, Nauseous to Touch, and Loathsome to Behold; On this Condition, to remain for Life A careful, tender and obedient Wife, In all I can contribute to your Ease, And not in Deed, or Word, or Thought, displease? Or would you rather have me Young and Fair, And take the Chance that happens to your Share? Temptations are in Beauty, and in Youth, And how can you depend upon my Truth? Now weigh the Danger, with the doubtful Blifs, And thank your self, if ought should fall amiss. Sore figh'd the Knight, who this long Sermon
At length, confidering all, his Heart he chear'd;
And thus reply'd: My Lady, and my Wife,
To your wife Conduct I resign my Life:
Chuse you for me, for well you understand
The future Good and Ill, on either Hand:
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