All other goods by fortune's hand are given, A wife is the peculiar gift of Heaven.
The Muse but serv'd to ease some friend, not wife, / To help me through this long disease, my life.
For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
Horses (thou say'st) and asses men may try, And ring suspected vessels ere they buy; But wives, a random choice, untried they take; They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake; Then, nor till then, the veil's removed away, And all the woman glares in open day.
What so pure, which envious tongues will spare? Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair, With matchless impudence they style a wife, The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life; A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, A night invasion, and a mid-day devil; Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard, But curse the bones of ev'ry living bard.
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