A Peacock once, of splendid show,
Gay, gaudy, foppish, vain——a Beau,
Attack'd a fond young Pheasant's Heart
With such Success,
He pleas'd her, tho' he made her smart;
He pierc'd her with so much Address,
She smil'd the Moment that he fixt his Dart.
A Cuckow in a neighbouring Tree,
Rich, honest, ugly, old——like me,
Lov'd her as he lov'd his Life:
No pamper'd Priest e'er study'd more
To make a virtuous Nun a Whore,
Than he to get her for his Wife:
But all his Offers still were vain,
His Limbs were weak, his Face was plain;
Beauty, Youth, and Vigour weigh'd
With the warm desiring Maid:
No Bird, she cry'd, wou'd serve her turn,
But what cou'd quench as well as burn;
She'd have a young Gallant: so one she had.
But 'ere a Month was come and gone, }
The Bride began to change her tone, }
She found a young Gallant was an inconstant one. }
She wander'd to a neighbouring Grove,
Where after musing long on Love,
She told her Confidant, she found,
When for one's Life one must be bound,
(Tho' Youth indeed was a delicious Bait)
An aged Husband, rich, tho' plain, }
Wou'd give a slavish Wife less Pain; }
And, what was more, was sooner slain, }
Which was a Thing of Weight.
Behold, young Lady, here, the Cuckow of the Fable; I'm deform'd, 'tis true, yet I have found the Means to make a Figure amongst Men, that well has recompens'd the Wrongs of Nature; my Rival's Beauty promises you much; perhaps my homely Form might yield you more; at least, consider on't, 'tis worth your Thought.
Euph. I must confess, my Fortune wou'd be greater;
But what's a Fortune to a Heart like mine?
'Tis true, I'm but a young Philosopher,
Yet in that little Space my Glass has run,
I've spent some Time in search of Happiness:
The fond Pursuit I soon observ'd of Riches,
Inclin'd me to enquire into their Worth:
I found their Value was not in themselves,
But in their Power to grant what we cou'd ask.
I then proceeded to my own Desires,
To know what State of Life wou'd suit with them:
I found 'em moderate in their Demands,
They neither ask'd for Title, State, or Power:
They slighted the aspiring Post of Envy:
'Tis true, they trembled at the Name Contempt;
A general Esteem was all they wish'd;
And that I did not doubt might be obtain'd,
If furnish'd but with Virtue and Good-nature;
My Fortune prov'd sufficient to afford me
Conveniences of Life, and Independence.
This, Sir, was the Result of my Enquiry;
And by this Scheme of Happiness I build,
When I prefer the Man I love to you.
Esop. How wise, how witty, and how cleanly, young Women grow, as soon as ever they are in love!
Euph. How foppish, how impertinent, and how nauseous are old Men, when they pretend to be so too!
Esop. How pert is Youth!
Euph. How dull is Age!
Esop. Why so sharp, young Lady?
Euph. Why so blunt, old Gentleman?
Esop. 'Tis enough; I'll to your Father, I know how to deal with him, though I don't know how to deal with you. Before to-morrow Noon, Damsel, Wife shall be written on your Brow.