A satyr against wooing with a view of the ill consequences that attend it / written by the author of The satyr against woman. Gould, Robert, d. 1709? 1698 Approx. 36 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 15 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2005-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A41701 Wing G1435 ESTC R28043 10334249 ocm 10334249 44898 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A41701) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 44898) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1385:6) A satyr against wooing with a view of the ill consequences that attend it / written by the author of The satyr against woman. Gould, Robert, d. 1709? [2], 23, [1] p. [s.n.], London : 1698. Attributed to Robert Gould by Wing. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Women -- Poetry. 2003-03 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-04 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-03 John Latta Sampled and proofread 2005-03 John Latta Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-04 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A SATYR AGAINST WOOING : With a View of the Ill Consequences that attend it . Written by the Author of The Satyr against Woman . Si tibi simplicitas uxoria , deditus uni Est animus , summitte caput , cervice parata Ferre Jugum : nullam invenies quae pareat amanti . Juv. Sat. 6. LONDON , Printed in the Year , 1698. TO Sir Fleetwood Sheppard , &c. WHile the vain Fop his vainer Mistress sues , Growing more slavish as he longer Woo's , ( For she but flies because the Sot pursues ) You , Sir , a safer , nobler way have ran , For an ill Age a general Good began , And shewn the ways of Liberty to Man. Vnpitied let the Husband mourn his strife , That Woo's , and Lies , and labours for a Wife . Mean while to you our Praise we justly pay , Whom Woman's utmost Art cou'd ne'er betray , Or all her charms seduce to quit your Native Sway. Learning and Prudence rais'd you safe , above The snares of Wedlock , and the smiles of Love ; In their embrace a nobler Prize you sought , And to their Empire lasting Conquests brought . 'T was strange to be the Foe of Love so Young. But stranger to retain the Bent so long . Nor heat of Youth , nor yet your Elder Years ( For many a Man is fonder as he wears ) Cou'd ever plunge you in that Sea of Cares . Constant to Peace , you still avoided strife , The Rocks , the Shelves , and Quick-sands of a Wife , That wak'ner of Despair , and scourge of Life ! 'T was not because you never saw the Flame ; In Crouds of Beauties you were still the same , And , looking back , despis'd the following Game : Thus , flying , you the beauteous Victors beat , And Parthian like , secur'd the Conquest by Retreat : Disarm'd of all their Darts , the Fantoms fled , By your persisting Sense their Pow'r struck dead , And Wit and Friendship govern'd in their stead . Friendship ! Heav'ns holiest Tye and Balm of Life ! And Wit ! that never cou'd consist with strife . How are we pleas'd at ev'ry word you speak ! How do we glow to see the Light'ning break ! Inevitable Mirth our Grief controuls , Shines thrô the sullen Gloom , and warms our Souls ! Sadness it self does in thy Presenc● wear A Pleasing look , and Poets lose their Care. There 's not a Soul can stir while thou dost stay ! To ev'ry Mind you Life and Light convey , Just as where e'er the Sun arrives 't is Day ! Why shou'd not Wit , a blessing so sublime . As it from Love , secure thee too from Time ? It will not be ! — the Body falls of Course ; But thy Immortal Name 's above his Force . R. G. A SATYR AGAINST WOOING , &c. TRue Love ( if yet there such a thing can be ) Is where two Persons mutually agree ; And marry next ( to Root out all debate ) VVithout ● thought of Portion , or Estate : Then both alike , with cheerful Labour , strive By Honesty and Industry to Live , Alike contented , if they ' re poor , or thrive . Thus , living Happily and Dying late , They scarce find Heav'n a more Exalted State. But O! th' Arabian Phaenix is less rare Than such a happy , such a wond'rous Pair ! Not in an Age a Mutual Couple shown ; And 't is as certain that the Fault 's our own . We Sigh and Weep , with hopes and fears perplex Our Selves , and Deify a faithless Sex. As Butchers blow their Veal and taint their Ware , Praise does to Woman what a stinking Breath does there . Scarce has the Foppling Sixteen Summers Seen , The Down scarce yet appearing on his Chin , But he a Tingling in his Blood does find , And thinks he 's fit to propagate his Kind ; And were that all , he shou'd not have our blame , Since every other Brute pursues the same : Enjoy'd , at once they lose their Lust and Strife ; But he more thoughtless , pushes at a Wife , And thinks Desire will only end with Life . But e'er he can effect his mad Design , And in th' unquiet Clam'rous Union joyn , The two old Fathers , very gravely , meet 'T adjust the Young ones shaking of the Sheet : Th' Hereditary Mannor House and Grounds The Joynture , and in lieu Five thousand pounds . What 's this but just like Tradesmen bart'ting Ware ? Or cheating Jockeys in a Smith-field Fair , An even Chop between the Horse and Mare ? The Match thus made up , ( thoughtless of th' Event , ) The Noddy's next to get the Nymph's Consent In order to 't he Powders and Perfumes , And , three long hours in Dressing spent ; presumes At last before the Idol to appear , Bowing , as if the Deity were there : Not more cou'd be the Rapture had she been A bright , and just descended Cherubin . But now the speaking Faculty does seize The Ass , that breaks out smooth in Wo●ds like these . Madam — What shall I suy ? or how impart In Language that may make you feel the smart , The mighty Anguish of my bleeding Heart ? Wounded by You , nor able to endure The raging Pain , I humbly Kneel for Cure. O let thy looks thy future Love Declare ; As bright Aurora does a Day that 's Fair. Do not , Ah! do not , in a dismal Cloud Of gloomy Scorn thy Smiling Mercy shroud . But let those Eyes , that can the Sun controul , Shine with Enliv'ning Warmth upon my Soul , And an undone , despairing Lover save , Whose ●tmost Glory is to dye your Slave . O Sot ! that knows not Wedlock is a more Incessant Toyl than tugging at the Ore , The Joy of which he Dreams to stand possest A Bed-fellow that ne'er will let him rest ; In fatal kindness draining of his Strength , Or Curtain Lectures , fatal for their Length ; Knows all his secret Crimes , his Folly hears , Lessens his Hopes , and does encrease his Fears , And Studies how to Plague him forty Years . Had not a blunt Address been much more fit ? And , at that Juncture , better shew'd his Wit ? Madam ( tho' 't is a Truth that 's something ' bold ) We here are by our Parents bought and Sold : Tho' they are 〈◊〉 , pray let not us be Mad , But make the best of what will else be Bad : They 've yoak't us , let us go an equal Pace , 'T is walking Hand in Hand that wins this Race . Tho' yet of Love we may but little know , If after Marriage we can Loving grow , We shall be the first Pair that e'er did so . But to return — the Fop's Oration 'ore ( To many a Meaner Drab addrest before ) He little thinks what Torment will succeed ; That he so soon shall be a Slave indeed : That all the Joys and Innocence of Life Fly their Invet'rate Opposite — a Wife : That Friendship , Wine and Wit , like Truth to Sin , All hurry out as Marriage enters in . Well , but the Lady proud of the Applause , Her Mouth into a squeamish Posture draws , And cries , Ah Sir ! y 'ave learnt the Courtier 's Art To speak fine Words , but distant from your Heart : These Compliments were better said before Some Fairer Object ; that cou'd charm you more . O Madam ! He Replies , you are unjust , Can you inevitable Charms distrust ? With Eyes that Languish and with Conquer'd Hearts We own your Pow'r , your Raptures Flames and Darts : Charm more than You ? O touch not that extreme ! What Goddess does her own Divinity Blaspheme ? Thus does the Coxcomb entertain the Fair ; Who , at the same time , is so pleas'd to hear , That she fogets she is to be a Bride , And loses all her Leach'ry in her Pride . Impossible a Man shou'd keep up to That warm Discourse in which he first did Woo : It can't be always Angel , Love and Dear ! Celestial ! Orient Eyes ! and Matchless Fair ! Nor can the first Embrace , the warm Delight , Find a like Repetition every Night : These failing , Wedlock grows a thing accurst ; A VVife expects it still as 't was at first . Here sinks our Florid Fop — and in his Train , To the same Snare , comes on the Rhiming Swain ; The Sot that Writes , and is an Ass by Rule , The Caelia , Silvia , Chloris , Phillis Fool : Song is his Meat , his Drink , his Mistress too , For 't is to shew his Wit that maks him Woo ; Tho' there are better ways that Gift to prove , Than wasting time in Courtship , Noise and Love. No new Collection can of Verse appear , No Farce , no Comedy thro'all the year , But you 'l be sure to meet our Coxcomb there : Proud to his senseless Songs to Print his Name , And thinks his Whining , Love ; and Scribling , Fame . This bad , and yet that other Songster's worse , Whose Madrigals flow only from his Purse , So much for Making he at first bestows , For Setting next the second Guinea goes ; The singing Master sharps another Spill ; Ah! Sir , he gargling cries , — That Note must kill ! At Midnight he for Serenade prepares , As if ( alike disturbing sickly Ears ) He must ring his Chimes when the Bells go theirs . In vain this Cost and Toil ; for still 't is found There 's nearer ways to VVood than going round : Some Brawny Groom , as thus the Fop hums on , Cries Ough , and Mounts , and the Love-suit is done . Thus to the Fool the Filly's ready broke , The Clown her Pleasure , and the Fop her Cloak . But granting that there were a Nymph so choice , That lik't her Lover purely for his Voice ; Ev'n granting that , 't will not be very long E'er she 'l like Something better than a Song . A Common Singer on the Stage has there VVhere Voice will do , th' Advantage of a Peer : Or tho' , by chance , his Lordship led the way , VVhat one Fool has possest , all others may . Next to this , Wooer we the Slave may place With the sad watry Eyes , and Rusul Face , That sighs out all his hours , and in the Groves , Carves on the Beeches his unprosp'rous Loves . Sot ! only fit to make his Court to Trees , That hopes a Cure , yet tells not his Disease . If she appears he shakes , a Deathlike Pale Sits on his Visage — but the mournful Tale Some Friend , at last , to the lov'd Lady bears , And with the tender Accents wounds her Ears : She Melts , and now the Joy he wish't is come ; VVon without VVords , she 's born in Triumph home — Happy ! if he wou'd still continue Dumb , And pray the Pow'rs to take his Hearing too , And save him from the Clamour to ensue . If by his Cowardice this gets Success , The Bully , you may Judge , expects no less : Mad to enjoy , he ventures Life and Limb , As if the Nymph were only made for him ; And Marriage were not binding , just , or good , Unless he cut his way to it thro' Blood. Thus the first hour we loving Fops commence , Away goes Christianity and Sense . A Father's Precepts lose their pious force , For Counsel makes a hardn'd Blockhead worse . Still he fights on , and the most Common Drab He meets with , Courts with Duel and with Stab : So that at last ( from Justice fled for fear ) His Lot does with this double choice appear , To starve abroad , or to be truss'd up here . Vain Man ! is this our Boast of being brave ? Is this the Prudence above Beasts we have ? They tear and gore , and will no Rival bear In Rutting time , — our Rutt holds all the Year ; Condemn'd to Drudge in those unfathom'd Mines , And fonder grow the swifter Life declines . This brings me to the stale gray Fop in Years , That daily at the Park and Play appears , The Scandal and Disgrace of Silver Hairs : The Ladies Hearts with Perfumes t' engage Aping in vain the Youthful Lover's Rage , For VVomen know too well the Wants of Sapless Age. 'T is true , some Men t' a Vig'rous Age arrive , But it is then too late to Woo and Wive . who 'd shake the Sands when there 's so few to run ? And clap on Leeches when the Blood is gone ? Yet e'en in Impotence they 're still the same , And hold the Cards tho' they can't play the Game ; When Nature does in Opposition strive , And the last rak't up Ember's scarce alive . With this weak Wretch we may the lean one joyn Who ( choosing Food that Steels him in the Chine ) Feeds for a Mistress like a fatting Swine A Starv'ling just before of Meagre Face , But he crams on and will be brought in case . Wisely he lays his Fund for Pleasure in , He need not fear the being drain'd again . This Fop of all Fops Ladies most shou'd prize , Light of their Steps , and Jewel of their Eyes ! Famous as Spouse that all the Gravy Sips , And like Laborious Bees he lades his Hips ; Tho' he that Eats that way t' encrease his Gust , Is but a Limbeck for a Woman's Lust. But what can that Notorious Coxcomb say That , for a Wife , dissolves his Fat away ? If he so pank't to strike a heat before , The loss of Spirits will unbreath him more . The first has some pretence for feeding high ; The more this wasts the less he 'll satisfie : Or with his Strength shou'd he not lose desire , Yet weakness will not do what she 'll require . Fool ! at her Lover's Corpulence to frown , When she her Self so soon cou'd melt him down , And all the Pleasure of the Change her own . But to please her , tho' he was Horse-man's Weight Full fifteen Stone , he brings himself to Eight ; And thinking this way to get more in Breath , Gets a Consumption first , and next his Death : Happier in that , how e'er , than longest Life , With all his former Garbage and a Wife . But the proud Lover now 't is time to name , He that beyond his Fortune takes his Aim ; Scorns with Two Thousand Pound the Country Girl , And all less than the Daughter of an Earl : There he Addresses , Masks and Balls are made , But finds 'em all too little to perswade . Slighting his Love , and Haughty as she 's Fair , What can the Coxcomb do but next Despair ? And where that is the Cause , we know th' Effect Is Madness — Pride cou'd never bear Neglect . Hanging , or Poys'ning he does now intend , Nor does indeed deserve a better end . In Quality what was there ever seen Beside Rich Cloaths , and an affected Mein , Expensive Living , and a Fame decay'd , We might not find in any meaner Maid ? If a rich Consort was so much his Care , Why must she be descended from a P — r ? The greatest Fortunes are not met with there : Why rak't he not among the City Heirs ? Whence most of our Nobility have theirs ; And by the ill got Portions Spend-thrifts made , Down to the same Degree their Line degrade , From Trades-men sprung , and prentic'd to a Trade . As mad as this is he to Learning Bred , That thinks to gain a Mistress by his Head ; When any Block-head sooner shall prevail That scorns that Aid , and courts her with his Tail. What need of using all the Liberal Arts , So well receiv'd with our own Natural Parts ? The Fools in Verse enough themselves expose , Yet are exceeded by this Fool in Prose . His Love 's the very Bird-lime of his Brain , And pulls some part away with every Strain . Wou'd but my Lady's tawdry Woman show The Billets sh' has receiv'd from Chaplain Beau ; ( Who , with his fair Wig , and fine Cambrick Band , Thinks all the Ladies are at his Command , ) Wou'd she , I say , but design to let you see This Rhetorician in his Gaiety , In all his Tropes and Figures , and the rest Of those hard Terms in which his Passion 's drest ; You 'd swear a Woman by such Courtship won , Wou'd not deny th' Address of a Baboon , VVhose Chatt'ring she wou'd understand as soon . Beyond her Knowledge all his Stile does run , And if he wins her he 's beyond his own ; More dull the deeper in her Books he gets , That study where the wisest lose their VVits . But now comes one who ( disregarded here ) Flies to the Sea to quench his Passion there ; And does expect from the more faithful Main A milder Fate than from her cold Disdain : Farewel , he cries ; when of my Death you hear , In kindness let there fall one pitying Tear ; My Ghost will then to the Elizian . Grove Fly pleas'd , else haunt you for neglected Love ; Away he goes ; the VVinds , the Rocks , the Sand Less cruel thinks than her he left at Land : So far he 's well : — but e'er his Travail ends , To vex her , he his Patrimony spends . In France , or Rome , at last his Heart he frees , His Passion loses , and gets their Disease , The main Commodity of either Nation , Here a False , Faith , and there a Salivation . Vain Fool ! for such Relief so far to Roam ! He might as well have met that Cure at home : Here Quacks in Surgery and Religion too Abound , which elder Britain never knew ; Produc'd in ev'ry Corner of our Isle , As Heat does Monsters from the slime of Nile . Return'd , some second Fair does now delight ; Proud of the chance , to his old Mistress sight He brings the New , and Marries then in Spight . Exults , and Triumphs in his happy Fate : — — A VVife , the Pox , and not a Groat Estate . This Slave 's attended by a Wretch as bad , Who by his 〈◊〉 of Pleasure is betray'd : Wo●● for Enjoyment only , and succeeds ; ( For little Courtship that Intention needs ) And , 〈…〉 Mark is what all Coxcombs hit , He from that Minute dates himself a Wit : Glories that he the subtle Bait has took Without the Fate of hanging on the Hook. Not Dreaming , Ideot , tho' one Danger 's o'er , He yet is nearer Ruine than before . For from Enjoyment she has took her Cue , Does Kneel , and Pray , and Swoon , and Weep and ( Wooe ; ) Since y 'ave the Jewel take the Casket too , She cries , Ah! Can you throw her from your Arms Whose only Crime was yielding to your Charms ? So Sweet you look't , so Passionately swore , I lost my Breath and could resist no more ! If by such Words he 's not prevail'd to stay , Again she Kneels , again she Dies away . Thus Night and Day his Privacies she 'll haunt , And make him swear anew to every Grant : Plies him so hard he 's forc'd at last to Yield , For if he pities her h' has lost the Field . Whose Drab a Man may Marry is unknown , The fatal Proofs of that are daily shown ; But of all Whores I least should wed my own . In this loose Train the Widower to behold , Will scarce obtain Belief , when it is told : By his good Fate ; and Providence's Care Free'd from the Yoke , who wou'd not now beware ? Sav'd from a Wrack and safely put on Shore , A thinking Man wou'd trust the Rocks no more . But Mariners , you 'll say must go to Sea , And there 's for Wedlock more Necessity : Posterity must last , and Bread be had — And can't this be without my being Mad ? If Trades-men for the meer support of Life , Willing to suffer Discontent and Strife , Let ( as their Consorts are cut off and Die ) Another Hydra's Head the Place supply , What then ? Must he that has a large Estate , And Children too that for Advancement wait , Adore and be at the same Amarous Pass As when , at Twenty , he Commenc'd an Ass ? Bring a Step-Mother to his Elder Brood ( A sort of Creature always Poor and Lewd ) And , gratifying her , no Right preserve ? Her 's have th' Estate , his former Children starve ? Whoring is bad , it's Consequences worse , But such a Marriage is the heavier Curse . But these not all , there 's yet one Fool t' appear , Strutting like a Lieutenant in the Rear : The witty Fop , I mean , that Wooes in jest , Conceives he 's safe , and laughs at all the rest : Courts all , and all alike ; and who believes , Born to be false , he certainly deceives . No Marriage comes within his lewd Intent , Yet talks as if he only Marriage meant . A Thousand Oaths of Constancy does Swear , And will be ever tampering with the Snate . Playing with Love , but makes the Snake grow warm , And there 's a Time we can't avoid the Charm. His Weakness , or Neglect he 'll surely show , That always will be parlying with the Foe . Examine all the Annals ever writ , You 'll still find Woman was too hard for Wit. As when on Ship-board ( as the Tale does run ) The famous Monkey , playing with the Gun , Upon , now under , and now in wou'd go ; And this so oft repeated by the Beau , That off went Wisdom , and the Bullet too . Or as a Moth that round the Taper plays , Now here , now there it 's Mealy Wings displays , Till bold at length , mistaking Fire for Light , He meets with Ruine where he sought Delight . Just so our crafty Coxcomb round the edge Of Wedlock wantons , till the slippery sedge Upon the Bank gives way , and lets him in — Laugh ! Hymen laugh ! And let the Satyr grin ! By this time I foresee Objections rise ; A thankless Task the bidding Fools be wise . What Man , they 'll say , can stand upon his Guard For ever ? Such a Watchfulness were hard . Beside 't is Nature's powerful Call ; nor can That Sex be seen without Desire by Man. Not all our Courage , Wisdom , Pow'r , or Art , Can bring Relief where Love has fixt his Dart. Ev'n mighty Jove that cou'd the Lightning tame , Melted himself before this Brighter Flame . Look but on Woman ( for w' are bid increase ) And what hard Heart wou'd have Coition cease ? Angels at first , then Man was form'd by Heaven , And to 'em both Transcendent Graces giv'n : The first created Pure to wing the Skies , Where Beatifick Visions feed their Eyes . The last , the Lord of this Creation made , With such a Look as all the Creatures aw'd , But in that Sex we Man and Angel find , In one Compendium both their Graces joyn'd , Of human half , half of Celestial kind . In them both Heav'n and Earth at once Unite ; Fram'd fit for Love , and molded for Delight ! Delights that cannot ! Shou'd not be exprest ! — O let us pause a while — and wish the rest ! Hold ! hold I cry ! Or else 't is mortal War , Stretch not your bold Hyperbole's too far : Tho' all in Heav'ns design at first was good , It must be with restriction understood . Believe not we'd have Propagation cease , But carry'd on with Innocence and Peace . And Men of Sense exempted from the Rules Of wedding Misery , and begetting Fools . Paul's wishing all like him does make it plain Those Men that please may single Life retain : His Words no other Sense but this can bear , Be free from Woman and y' are free from Care. 'T is true , we own they were by Nature meant , A Blessing to us , form'd for our Content ; Made in Prosperity our Joys to share , And in our Wants to mollifie our Care : Not order'd to command us , but obey , And are to follow , not to lead the way ; But we pervert that end , and , born to Rule , Meanly degenerate into Slave and Fool ; Wast on their gawdy Trappings all our store , Then fall down to the Idol and adore . Hence to so vast a pitch her Pride does rise , All that deny her Homage she 'll despise : Kind neither to Desert , or Wit , or VVealth ; But hugs the Fool where she can see her Self . The Mirrour that returns her Image true , VVhere , by Reflection , she may have a view Of something always vain , and always new . With empty Sound and outward Gesture won , But bait the Hook with Fool the Work is done . Fool is their Food , their only dear Delight , Their daily longing , and their drudge at Night . The Man of Sense ( tho' Marriage he may hate ) Wou'd in his Line continue his Estate ; Ev'n he , too , if he wou'd successful prove , Must Ape the Fool , and seem the thing they love : Tho' h' has enjoy'd her he must still adore , Tho' Master be as servile as before , Or , chast as Ice , she 'll Marry'd turn a Whore. Well then , you 'll say , why all this Discontent ? You do but rail at what you can't prevent . 'T was never known but Fools were num'rous still , Wedlock a Snare , and Wives perversly ill . What Remedy can you to Man propose That he may not by Love , or Marriage lose ? Cou'd that be done in Vain you wou'd not Write , Nor Envy say 't was Prejudice and Spite . I answer , If Men will their Vice retain , And , when Convicted , let their Follies Reign ; Ev'n Juvenal himself had writ in vain : In vain as far as it relates to them That will not mend , but not in vain to him . For tho' we can't of Reformation boast Our well meant Labours are not wholly lost , Virtue rewards its self ; and he that wou'd Convert the Vitious , then confirms the Good. But to come closer to you : — Wou'd we use That Aid we have , and not our Wills abuse , A Thousand ready helps before us stand , Which the most stupid Idiot might command . What Man is there that can't forbear to Cringe ? And hang his Hope upon that slender Hinge ? Who need protest a painted Drab's Divine , VVhen she is daub'd more coursly then a Sign ? VVho need at VVomens Scorn or Coldness pine , That may relieve himself with Friends and Wine . VVho'd tear and rave , and think his Fortune ill Because one won't , when there 's so many will ? Why are Rich Presents squander'd every Day ? W' are not oblig'd to throw Estates away . Why Swearing ? and of Lies a num'rous Rout ? Virtue wou'd think as well of us without . Superiour we ; suppose we equal were , Why all that Adoration ? Standing bare ? Watching their Eyes ? And placing ( to our Cost ) That Heav'n in them by whom our Heav'n was lost ? May not all these , and num'rous Follies more ( Too shamefull here to mention ) be forbore ? Convicted thus , ev'n you must give your Voice . That all our Coxcombs Miseries are his Choice . Then the Adventurer who wou'd happy be In Wedlock , must these Precepts learn of me . First , where he likes he must for Marriage sue , Be true himself , and always think her so . No Jealousy of Rivals must appear , For she 'll be false if you her falshood fear . Nor while you Woo be still protesting Love ; Large Promisers the worst Performers prove . Then , after Wedlock , ne'er be heard contend , Happy ! if you can make your Wife your Friend ! Devour her not at once ; but so enjoy As not to feed too sparingly , or Cloy . By dext'rous Management , you still must shew Her good results from her Delight in you . Give her full freedom ; too severe restraint Estranges Love , and makes Affection faint . Let her wear whet she will ; your Happiness Lies in your being easy , not her Dress . No sullenness must in your looks be worn , And all her Pets must patiently be born , For y' are her Cuckold if y' are once her scorn . If all this keeps her not to Virtue fast , Conclude no Woman ever yet was Chast : But if this Usage does her Soul encline To Truth , she 's happy , and her Joy is thine , And only so the Marriage Knot 's Divine : For as it stands among the Vulgar Fry , Or Gentry either , where there 's Jealousy , Jack Ketch , s Noose is far the Holier Tye. All this is hard , you 'l cry , extreamly hard ! And if such Doctrine met the World's regard , The Trade of Lisences wou'd soon be marr'd . T is what one of Ten Thousand ne'er cou'd do . — Faith , Sir , I am of your Opinion too . 'T is therefore I 'm so earnest with the Men , Before they Noose to think — and think agen . If with a Wife he Happiness wou'd see , Just such a Creature must a Husband be : Nay often too with all this Kindness shewn , His Heir shall be her Bantling , not his own . Thus , Sir , I 've freely answer'd your request , Marry , or Marry not , as like 's you best . But now t is time some Counsel to bestow Upon Sir Passionate , the Am'rous Beau , That he at need may scape a scowring too . If in his Breast he finds the Poison strong , H' has then this Comfort 't will not Rack him long , The warmer Love the sooner 't will be cold , For no extreme in Nature long can hold . But if the Venom yet more dang'rous prove , Take what I here prescribe — and laugh at Love. First set before your Eyes as fair a Piece As ever Ancient Rome produc'd , or Greece ; Brighter than Hellen that set Troy on Fire , And chast as Infants that ne'er knew desire : That Icy Virtue keeps the Lover warm , ( For nothing that 's Immodest long can Charm ) Strip but this Puppet of it's Gay attire , It's — Gauzes , Ribbons , Lace , Commode and Wire , And tell me then what 't is thou dost admire ? First 't is her pretty Shoe that so prevails ; The charm can ne'erly in her Toes and Nails . Her Leg , long , little , wretchedly compos'd , Shall hinder what is worse to be disclos'd , Only her Breasts there is no passing by , Because made bare to Court th' admiring Eye : These , when they Lace , up to their Chins they Buoy , And in short heavings artfully employ : There they look well ; but when the Night is come They 'r down agen just even with the Bum. Next , let her nat'ral Sett of Teeth be shown , If she 's not Thirty , for she then has none ; With eating Sweet-meats rotted from the Gum ; So that her Breath is not the best Perfume . Her Face , indeed , we own were wond'rous fair , If there a Head belong'd to 't that had Hair. Upon old Time you may a Forelock find , But theirs are false , or brought round from behind . Thus Woman , tho by Fools and Flatt'rers Fam'd , Let her Defects from Head to Foot be nam'd , Is the most vain unfinish't Peice that Nature ever Fram'd This nice inspection of her Person done , Let all her little Implements be shown : Open her secret Boxes ; Patches here You 'l hoarded find , her Paints and Washes there : Loves artfull Lime twigs , where the chatt'ring Ape Sits Perch'd , and han't the Judgment to Escape ; Pleas'd with his Station there the Buzzard sings , But finds his Shackles when he 'd use his Wings . If in her Bed you e'er perceive her fast , Mind how her Face is crusted o'er with Past , Or nasty Oils us'd nightly to repair Her Skin , quite spoil'd — with taking of the Air. The scatter'd Pieces of her artfull Frame ( More than wou'd take up a whole Day to Name ) Lie strew'd around , and such a Prospect Yield , As Spoils when Routed Armies leave the Field . Hip-Cushions , Plumpers , Massy Pads for Stays — And thousand other things , dispers'd a thousand ways . So that the Fair ( like Bone lace when 't is wrought ) Can't altogether in one Piece be brought ( Her Toils in order and her Am'rous Gins ) Without five hundred Pound a Year in Pins . A thoughtfull Creature must conclude from hence The best of 'em not worth that vast Expence ; That the short snatches of Delight we court , We pay so dear for that it palls the Sport. Then , what a perfume where she comes is lent ? All over strew'd to hide her nat'ral scent . So they that stink of Onions , if they eat Garlick , t will make the fainter smell retreat ; But then a stronger scent supplies the Room : And so she cures her Rankness by perfume . Thus Wooing different we from hunting find For there w' are pleas'd when Puss is in the Wind. If o're the Fop his Passion yet prevails , And he 'l weigh Reason only in his Scales , Neither to be perswaded , forc'd or sham'd , But , proud of Bondage , scorns to be reclaim'd ; Let him Woo on — A little time will shew He is an Ass , and all our Doctrine true . FINIS . ADVERTISEMENT . UPON Information , That there is a design of Publishing of something upon this Subject , under the Name of the Author the Satyr against Woman , this is to acquaint the World , that the Author knows nothing of it , and thare will be no other than this Satyr writ by him upon this Subiect .