' And since I speak of wedlock, let me say,
(As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may)
My limbs are active, still I'm sound at heart,
And a new vigour springs in every part.
Think not my virtue lost, though time has shed
These reverend honours on my hoary head:
Thus trees are crown'd with blossoms white as snow,
The vital sap then rising from below.
Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear

Like winter greens, that flourish all the year.
Now, sirs, ye know to what I stand inclin'd,
Let every friend with freedom speak his mind.'
He said; the rest in different parts divide;
The knotty point was urg'd on either side :
Marriage, the theme on which they all declaim'd,
Some prais'd with wit, and some with reason blam'd.
Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies,
Each wondrous positive, and wondrous wise,
There fell between his brothers a debate :
Placebo this was call'd, and Justin that.

First to the knight Placebo thus begun,
(Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone)
'Such prudence, sir, in all your words appears,
As plainly proves experience dwells with years!
Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice,

To work by counsel when affairs are nice:
But, with the wise man's leave, I must protest,
So may my soul arrive at ease and rest,
As still I hold your own advice the best.
'Sir, I have liv'd a courtier all my days,
And studied men, their manners, and their ways;
And have observ'd this useful maxim still,
To let my betters always have their will.

'Nay, if my lord affirm'd that black was white, My word was this, "Your honour's in the right."

The' assuming wit, who deems himself so wise
As his mistaken patron to advise,

Let him not dare to vent his dangerous thought;
A noble fool was never in a fault.

This, sir, affects not you, whose every word
Is weigh'd with judgment, and befits a lord:
Your will is mine; and is (I will maintain)
Pleasing to God, and should be so to man;
At least, your courage all the world must praise,
Who dare to wed in your declining days.
Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,
And let gray fools be indolently good,
Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense,
With reverend dulness and grave impotence.'
Justin, who silent sate, and heard the man,
Thus, with a philosophic frown, began :—
A heathen author, of the first degree,
(Who, though not faith, had sense as well as we)
Bids us be certain our concerns to trust
To those of generous principles and just.
The venture's greater, I'll presume to say,
To give your person, than your goods away:
And therefore, sir, as you regard your rest,
First learn your lady's qualities at least:
Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil,
Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil;
Whether an easy, fond, familiar fool,
Or such a wit as no man e'er can rule.
'Tis true, perfection none must hope to find
In all this world, much less in womankind;
But if her virtues prove the larger share,
Bless the kind fates, and think your fortune rare.
Ah, gentle sir, take warning of a friend,

Who knows too well the state you thus commend;

And spite of all bis praises must declare,
All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.
Heav'n knows I shed full many a private tear,
And sigh in silence, lest the world should hear;
While all my friends applaud my blissful life,
And swear no mortal's happier in a wife;
Demure and chaste as any vestal nun,

The meekest creature that beholds the sun!
But, by the' immortal pow'rs, I feel the pain,
And he that smarts has reason to complain,
Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,
And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age:
But at these years to venture on the fair!
By him who made the ocean, earth, and air,
To please a wife, when her occasions call,
Would busy the most vigorous of us all.
And trust me, sir, the chastest you can choose
Will ask observance, and exact her dues.
If what I speak my noble lord offend,
My tedious sermon here is at an end.'

"Tis well, 'tis wondrous well,' the knight replies, 'Most worthy kinsman, faith you're mighty wise! We, sirs, are fools; and must resign the cause To heathenish authors, proverbs, and old saws.' He spoke with scorn, and turn'd another way :'What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?'

'I say,' quoth he,' by Heav'n the man's to blame, To slander wives, and wedlock's holy name.' At this the council rose, without delay Each, in his own opinion, went his way; With full consent, that, all disputes appeas'd, The knight should marry, when and where he pleas'd. Who now but January exults with joy?

The charms of wedlock all his soul employ:

Each nymph by turns his wavering mind possess'd,
And reign'd the short-liv'd tyrant of his breast;
Whilst fancy pictur'd every lively part,
And each bright image wander'd o'er his heart.
Thus, in some public forum fix'd on high,
A mirror shows the figures moving by;
Still one by one, in swift succession, pass
The gliding shadows o'er the polish'd glass.
This lady's charms the nicest could not blame,
But vile suspicions had aspers'd her fame;
That was with sense, but not with virtue bless'd;
And one had grace, that wanted all the rest.
Thus doubting long what nymph he should obey,
He fix'd at last upon the youthful May.
Her faults he knew not, love is always blind,
But every charm revolv'd within his mind:
Her tender age, her form divinely fair,
Her easy motion, her attractive air,
Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face,
Her moving softness, and majestic grace.

Much in his prudence did our knight rejoice,
And thought no mortal could dispute his choice:
Once more in haste he summon'd every friend,
And told them all their pains were at an end.
'Heav'n, that (said he) inspir'd me first to wed,
Provides a consort worthy of my bed:
Let none oppose the' election, since on this
Depends my quiet, and my future bliss.

"A dame there is, the darling of my eyes, Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and wise; Chaste,though not rich; and, though not nobly born, Of honest parents, and may serve my turn. Her will I wed, if gracious Heav'n so please, To pass my age in sanctity and ease;

And, thank the pow'rs, I may possess alone
The lovely prize, and share my bliss with none!
If you, my friends, this virgin can procure,
My joys are full, my happiness is sure.

'One only doubt remains: full oft, I've heard, By casuists. grave, and deep divines averr'd, That 'tis too much for human race to know The bliss of heav'n above, and earth below: Now should the nuptial pleasures prove so great, To match the blessings of the future state, Those endless joys were ill exchang'd for these; Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at ease.' This Justin heard, nor could his spleen control, Touch'd to the quick, and tickled at the soul. 'Sir knight,' he cried, if this be all you dread, Heav'n put it past your doubt whene'er you wed; And to my fervent pray'rs so far consent,

That, ere the rites are o'er, you may repent! Good Heav'n, no doubt, the nuptial state approves,

Since it chastises still what best it loves.

Then be not, sir, abandon'd to despair;
Seek, and perhaps you'll find among the fair,
One, that may do your business to a hair;
Not ev'n in wish your happiness delay,

But prove the scourge to lash you on your way:
Then to the skies your mounting soul shall go,
Swift as an arrow soaring from the bow!
Provided still, you moderate your joy,
Nor in your pleasures all your might employ,
Let reason's rule your strong desires abate,
Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate.
Old wives there are, of judgment most acute,
Who solve these questions beyond all dispute;