Chapter 1

[Transcriber's Note: The following was proofread from what appear to be scans of photocopies of a reproduction of the original text. On top of the original's battered type-face and archaic spellings, this preparer, and the proofreaders before him, have had to contend with dirty or faded images and missing margins. We have made our best guesses as to the missing letters, but in some cases we were stymied; those few places are marked with [*?]. In addition, the most obvious printer's mistakes (transposed, missing, obviously incorrect, and even upside-down letters) have been corrected.]

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THE Fifteen Comforts OF MATRIMONY.

OR,

Looking glass for all Those who have Enter'd in that Holy and Comfortable State. herein are sum'd up all those Blessings that attend a Married Life.

_Dedicated to Batchelors and Widdowers._

_London._ Printed in the Year, 1706.

The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony.

_The First Comfort of Matrimony._

Happy were Man, when born as free as Air, Did he that freedom as he ought, prefer; But the first Thing he sets his Heart upon, Is to be Married, and to be undone: On some young _Girl_ he casts his wanton Eyes, And wooes her with fine Complements and Toys. But that's not all--he grows in Love at last, And is impatient till those Joys he taste: Nor do's the wishing Virgin disagree, In what she longs to taste as well as he; Married they are--no Couple for a while Enjoy such Pleasure, Fortune seems to smile: But all's a Dream, from which in time they wake, And now their Breasts of other Cares partake: She grows true Woman, sullen, proud, and high, Complains he keeps her not accordingly, To what she brought--wants This rich Thing, and That Until she runs him o'er Head and Ears in Debt, That in a Gaol he's forc'd to end his Life, The first great Comfort flowing from a Wife.

_The Second Comfort of Matrimony._

Another that has got a Handsome Wife, Makes her the only Heaven of his Life; Keeps her Extravagantly, Fine and Gay, And never thinks she makes too much away; The _Treats_ and _Balls_ she is invited to, And he good Man, consents that she shall go: Believes her Company is much desired, And's proud to think she shou'd be so admired: Until at length, by chance he finds the Truth, And catches her with some enamour'd Youth: Surpriz'd--but dare not make the Matter known, Conceals her Shame, that he may hide his own; He ever after spends an anxious Life, Heavy his Sorrow, and as Light his Wife.

_The Third Comfort of Matrimony._

Scarce has another three full Moons beguil'd, But that his forward Spouse has prov'd with Child, And now begins the drugery of Life, Lo! the vast Comforts of a Breeding Wife, Now she's grown Squeamish, such ado is kept, She e'en as peevish as an _Ape_ new whipt, She pukes and whines, do's nothing but complain, And vows she'll never know the like again; But 'tis as Children promise to be good, Only remember'd while they feel the Rod. And now the look'd for time approaches nigh, And you've a thousand several Things to buy, The Twi-lights, Blankets, and the Lord knows what, To keep the Child, perhaps he never got, A noise of Bawdy Gossips in his Ears, Until his House like _Billings gate_ appears, Thus amply curst, he grows discreetly dull, And from a Man of Sence, becomes a Fool.

_The Fourth Comfort,_ &c.

One that so fast in _Hymens_ Net appears, He has been strugling in't near twenty Years: With Care and Toil to propagate his Store, Able to keep the Wolf just from the Door; As num'rous Offspring round his Table spread; Daughters for Marriage fit, and Sons for Trades, Is Blest with Comforts of the Marriage Bed. Charges encreasing daily, and the thought Where to get Money to dispose 'em out? Or then perhaps he feels the greater Curse, The Sons turn Sots, or Fools, the Daughters worse; The Wife still teezing him to do his part, Until he has enough to break his Heart.

_The Fifth Comfort,_ &c.

But the least pitied is your Aged Ass, Who tho full Sixty, wou'd for Forty pass: And that he may be sure a Crop to have, And carry _Horns_ fresh budding to his Grave, On one of Twenty, blooming as a Rose, His dry and wither'd Carkass he bestows: She jilts, intrigues, and plays upon him still, Keeps her Gallants, and Rambles at her Will; Do's nothing but her Pride and Pleasure mind, And throws his Gold like Chaff before the Wind; Until at length she beggars the old Slave, And brings his Gray-Hairs with Sorrow to the Grave.

_The Sixth Comfort,_ &c.

The next in course is he that weds a Shrew; One that will talk, and wear the Breeches too; Governs, insults, do's what e'er she thinks fit, And he good Man, must to her Will submit; Mannages all Affairs at home, abroad, While he a Cypher seems, and stands for naught; When e'er he speaks, she snaps him, and crys, _Pray hold your Tongue, who was't made you so wife? You will be prating, though you nothing know:_ This he must bear, and be contented too, See his Friends slighted, and must silent be, Till Death shall from the Torment set him free.

_The Seventh Comfort,_ &c.

Another that has liv'd some Years in Peace, A wedded Life--do's now in strength decrease, Nor able is to satisfie that Debt, Which Marriage claims, and Women still expect, Wherefore she now withdraws her Love and Care, Reviles, and twits him of his Slights to her; Makes it a daily Quarrel, flings and throws, And Peace is now a Stranger to his House; Nay, even his Servants, and his Children too, E'en act the same they see the Mother do, While he declining, and consumptive sits, Bears all with patience, and to all submits.

_The Eighth Comfort,_ &c.

Another _Lady_, nicer bred and born, Makes Huswif'ry, and Providence her Scorn Her Maid and she must to the _Wells_ repair, She is not well, and goes to take the Air: The House to Servants she entrusts at home, And down on _Saturday_ her Spouse must come, And with him something very Costly bring, Or Treat her there with some nice pretty thing, She brought a Fortune, and it must be so, But home to Rack and Ruin all do's go, He sums his Gains, and finds it will not do; In that for fifteen hundred pound she brought, He'd better had a Huswife in her Smock.

_The Ninth Comfort,_ &c.

Another that with Prudence, and with Cares, Has mannag'd well his Family Affairs, Govern'd his Wife and Children with that ease, Which always kept the Family in peace; His sons and Daughters educated so, None better bred, none cou'd gentiler go: The Sons are now set up to drive their Trade, The daughters married, and their Fortunes paid. One Son runs out, another takes ill ways, For which their Father's Pocket always pays; The Daughter's Husband breaks, and she must come And live a burthen on him again at home; Until the daily Cares that they impart, Break first his Substance, and then break his Heart.

_The Tenth Comfort,_ &c.

One thinking to encrease the Joys of Life, Marries a Beautiful young Buxom Wife; But soon he finds himself grow cloy'd and weak, Nor can he give her half those Joys she'd take, He now Consumptive, Pale and Meagre grows, While she complaining to her Parents goes; Says _she can't Love him, such a one as he._ And now desires she may live sep'rately. The poor fond Parents to him trudge in haste, And reprimand him soundly for what's past. He knows no Cause--Nor thinks he is to blame, They tell him plainly she shall live with them, And he allow her what is fit to have, Which he must yield to if he'll quiet have.

_The Eleventh Comfort,_ &c.

Another has begun before her Time, Tasted those joys--but still conceal'd her Crime And now her Parents thinks her fit to Wed, (The Man that has her's finely brought to Bed,) Some hopeful Youth of Equal Worth is found, And soon his Suit with glad Success is crown'd, The Marriage Articles next agreed, And the Impostor _Virgin_ sooth'd to Bed; The Am'rous _Bridegroom_ on the Wanton flies, Who modestly his first Attempt denys; Again he moves her, she denys again, _Crys Lord I never shall endure a Man_: But warmer grown, he rushes on the Bride, And panting now, is but with Sighs deny'd, She yields a little to dissemble more, Knowing the part she'd acted once before: Wwhile he good Man, so pleas'd with what he'as done, Proclaims her Chastity to all the Town.

_The Twelfth Comfort,_ &c.

Some are so fond, so blinded in their Choice, That they are ravish'd with their beautious Prize; In such a case the young unthinking Sot, Boasts what a handsome Genteel Wife he'as got, Doates on her Face, commends her Shape and Air, And thinks her Virtuous beyond compare: When all the time she plays her Pranks unknown, And with her Gallant rambles up and down; [*?]y, brings him home, while the poor Husband's sent On some Fools Errand, she has her content: At length he finds her out, but dare not speak, But bears all calmly for his Honour's sake.

_The Thirteenth Comfort of Matrimony._

This Married to some Beauty of Renown, } Whose Business often keeps him out of Town; } But the good Woman cannot lie alone: } While the poor _Lawyer's_ stating o'er the Case, She finds another to supply his Place; And proving pregnant, reckons up the Time, Lest the Sot Husband shou'd suspect her Crime. She swallows Drugs and Poysons ev'ry day, To bring the Child before its time away; This she performs so often, and is Sick, That he at length begins to smoak the Trick; Next time he keeps account, and plains it is, He swears point-blank the Child is none of his.

_The Fourteenth Comfort of Matrimony._

The next a Widow thinks it best to Wed, And takes the knowing Matron to his Bed, A while he quenches her insatiate Fire, But in a little times begins to tire, The _Lady_ soon the difference can find, And truly very plainly speaks her Mind, She twits him of the good departed Man, Whose like, she says, _She ne'er shall see again, He never left me in a Morning so, But took a parting Kiss before he'd go; And get me some Good Thing for Breakfast too: Well, he a dear kind Husband was to me, But now my Days are spent in Misery._

_The Fifteenth Comfort of Matrimony._

Last, and not least of all these Comforts is, The Man that's Wedded unto some Disease, A peevish, crazy, and a sickly Wife, The Burthen and the Nusance of his Life; Her Bed, the meer resemblance of a Tomb, And an _Apothecarys_ Shop her Room; Coughing and Spitting all the Night she lies, A very Antidote to Marriage Joys: Yet the poor Man must bear with all these Ills, Besides the Excessive Charge of Physick Bills, A Nurse, fine Cordials, and a hundred things, Until his Substance she to little brings, Till may be she at length resigns to Death, The only Comfort he cou'd hope on Earth.

FINIS.

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THE Batchelors _and_ Maids ANSWER

TO THE

_FIFTEEN COMFORTS_ OF MATRIMONY.

BEING

Real Encouragements for all Single Persons of both Sexes to Marry as soon as ever they can get Wives and Husbands, in order to avoid the danger of leading Apes in Hell; with sutable Directions for that purpose.

_Dedicated to Married Men and Women._

_Licensed and Enter'd according to Order._

_LONDON_, Printed and Sold by _Henry Hills_, in _Black-Fryars_, near the Water-side.

_The_ Batchelors _and_ Maids _Answer to the_ Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony.

_Answer to the First Mock Comfort._

But why shou'd Marriage render Man undone? When nothing's like it underneath the Sun. True Pleasures in the Marriage-Bed alone, Real Joys without it never yet was known. The Charming Bliss in Wedlock chiefly lies, A Single Life all Honest Men despise, What greater Comfort can on Earth be found, When two True Hearts are both together Crown'd. All other Pleasures are but Pains to this, A Married Couple only, finds the Bliss. The Frowns of Fate, and other Worldly Cares, Are daily lessen'd by divided Shares. The mutual Love of Man and Wife dispense, With all the Chances of dark Providence; Nay, If in Prison he shou'd chance to lie, A Loving Wife brings Comforts and Supply. She pays him visits with Delight and Care, And Loves him ne're the less for being there.

_Answer to the Second Mock Comfort._

And why shou'd not a Man adore his Wife, Since She's the only Comfort of his Life. A Gift presented by the Gods above, A lively Emblem of the Charms of Love. All o're Divine, a Heaven, here below Man's Paradice, where Joys in Plenty flow. No Shame, but Honour does bless'd Wedlock Crown, And ushers in both Glory and Renown. Sweet pretty Babes, the Product of each Charm, In Marriage-Bed protects us from all harm, Their Innocence like Lambs and Doves appear, Which make our Hearts and Minds quite void of Care. No Sorrow can lay hold of Man or Wife, Where Love and Virtue is the Rule of Life.

_Answer to the Third mock Comfort._

Oh! Monstrous Man, nay Beast, (I almost said) What cursed Thoughts are got into thy Head? To rail at those to whom thy Life is due, No Mortal yet durst be so vile as you? If whipping _Joan_ was here alive and stout, You do deserve to be well whip'd about. Ten thousand lashes shall adorn thy Bumb, If ever such a whipping Lass should come. 'Tis strange a Woman shou'd be so envy'd, Not only mock'd, but shamefully bely'd. With bawdy Gossips, and the Lord knows what, To Name a Child the Husband never got. You call him Fool, and yet that Title claim, And prove your self the Person you wou'd Name. You know it is a Woman's due by Birth, To Scold and Cry, next moment Joy and Mirth. One minute smile, the very next a Frown, Perhaps the next she knocks her Husband down. But what does this to hinder higher Charms? When Joys are fix'd between the Husband's Arms, Such transports are out of the reach of thought, Tis only known where Wedlock Bonds are wrought.

_Answer to the Fourth Mock Comfort._

The Marriage-hater here is forc'd to own, The many Comforts which doth Wedlock Crown. But strives to mix it with such Cares and Toil, As if curs'd Malice cou'd such Blessings spoil. Makes Charges frightful on that very score, As if Mankind should ne'er encrease no more; Nay, _Atheist_-like, he makes it ten times worse, And calls _God's Blessings_ nothing but a Curse: Our Sons are Sots, and all our Daughters Whores, Because we keep the Woolf just from the Doors: Was ever Man so void of Sense and Shame, As thus against all Reason to exclaim? As if a Wife her Kindness to impart, Shou'd teaze her Husband as to break his Heart: This is such Stuff as ne'er was heard before, But hope the like again shall see no more.

_Answer to the Fifth Mock Comfort._

I here agree with this, my Rhiming Foe, And own 'tis Folly when the Case is so; For whatsoe'er the cunning Jilt pretend To her Old Husband, yet she'll have Her Friend; She'll coax the Dotard when his Bags are full, Yet even then graft _Horns_ upon his Skull, Makes him a Beggar to enrich her _Cull_: She seems most fond, till she gets all the _Pence_, And then with Bag and Baggage marches thence; She leaves the Fool without one single _Cross_, To sit, lamenting for his fatal _Loss_.

_Answer to the Sixth Mock Comfort._

But here I differ from the _Poet's_ Thought, Who says, A _Scold as even good for nought_; For, like _Job's_ Wife, she will Man's Patience try, And bring Repentance too, before he die: Then who'd live single, if a Scolding Wife Works such great Wonders in a Husband's Life?

_Answer to the Seventh Mock Comfort._

No modest Woman will disdain her Spouse, Because he seldom peeps into her House; Since Age and Sickness doth the Sport prevent, She'll exercise her Patience with Content: For where all's gone, the _Queen_ must lose Her _Right_, So must a Wife the Pleasure of the Night. A Loving Woman, puts up those Defects, And gives her Husband Honour and Respect; Like Pious _Sarah_, serve him like a _Lord_; Obeys in all things, which do's Peace afford: Their Children too add Pleasure to their Lives! Thus Men are Bless'd, who marry Virtuous Wives.

_Answer to the Eighth Mock Comfort._

Why should not Females under Wedlock tyes, Participate with what the Man Enjoys? Man's Second-self must have her share in Mirth A Freedom, which is right to her by Birth: If _Fortune's_ Bounty has encreased her Store, Her _Husband's_ Love to her shou'd be the more; No Cost or Care too much for such a Wife, Whose Vertuous Charms adds Pleasure to the Life: Such _Comforts_ on a married Life depend, There's nothing like a Loving Bosom-Friend. If _Husband's_ Stock is wasted by mischance, A careful Wife will soon the same advance.

_Answer to the Ninth Mock Comfort._

The Man more often is the cause of Loss, By Drinking, Whoring or some Earthly Cross; Then patient Wife, who yet must bear the Blame, And hide the cause of his notorous Shame; And many times the Sons and Daughters too, Act just the same they see their Father do: And therefore if they chance to go astray, The Father pointed out the crooked way; And yet the Crosses in a married Life Are all imputed to a Tender Wife: And notwithstanding all this knavish Art, It sooner breaks the _Wife's_ than _Husband's_ Heart.

_Answer to the Tenth Mock Comfort._

I wonder where this spiteful Author finds such wanton Women, with such lustful Minds; Unless he speaks by knowledg of his own, Whose Lewdness is the Scandal of the Town; If so, he's not mistaken in his Mark, For Joan's _as good as_ Lady _in the Dark_: But 'tis unjust to tax all Womankind, With Vices proper to one single mind. If some are bad, I only this shall say, I pity those that wed with such as they.

_Answer to the Eleventh Mock Comfort._

This by Experience, as I said before, You speak because you married such a Wh----re; The words themselves as plain, as plain can be Describe your self, that you are only He, The very Actions with your cheating Bride, In lustful Sport, when you lay by her side; How by degrees she did the Fool deceive With fained Blushes make you then believe Her Virgin Fort well fortify'd within, Free from Attacks of such a pleasing Sin: What e'er the Picture wants of being true, Is, that it looks not so deform'd as you.

_Answer to the Twelfth Mock Comfort._

Tho' some are blindly led, and others run, And make both haste and speed to be undone; This alters not the Case in any wise, But that a Man sometimes may get a Prize, If some be wanton in obscure Nookes, And _Ape_ the _Saint_, by framing modest Looks; Deceive the Husband, with her cunning Wiles, And cheat his Senses with her feigned smiles, These (I confess,) are hardships to be born, And worse to think the Fore-head tip'd with Horn, But still good Wives, if any such there be, Are real Comforts of a high Degree.

_Answer to the Thirteenth Mock Comfort._

The Lawyer's Wife is brought in for her share, To recompence her Loving Husband's care; As he by Bribes hath Honest Men undone, She gives to Knaves, what he might call his own. But Drugs and Poysons to a married Wife, I cannot understand it for my Life. For she that has a Husband need not fear, But all Suspicion soon will disappear. No matter where or when the Child was got, It always falls unto the Husband's Lot.

_Answer to the Fourteenth Mock Comfort._

'Tis true, a Widow always knows the best, To judge those Joys, which some do call a Jest. And if her Second Mate prove weak and dull, With Sorrow then be sure her Heart is full. And who can blame her, if she makes Complaint, For that sweet Comfort to supply her want. Well may she grieve at such a Cross as this, For that one Fault makes all things go amiss. If Husband wants what Widows Nature crave } He'd better be condemn'd to be a Slave, } Or make the Raging Sea his Watry Grave. } But if she finds her Pleasures to encrease, Oh! then (my Husband) _how we live in Peace_. She's then all Charms, no Comforts here below, Are like what she and her dear Spouse do know.