Prove fatal to the father of mankind?
Who of her daughters, a degen’rate race,
Can boast more art the tranquil hours to bind?
To sue for better, sir, would be in vain:
None ever yet did mother Eve excel.
Be warn’d by Adam; shun the glitt’ring train,
Lest some fond nymph your pleasures all expel.
A single life we find replete with joys.
The matrimonial chain I ever dread.
A state of celibacy is my choice;