Mrs. Merdle doubts Paradise's Uneating Pleasure.
Though Houris are handsome, though lovely the place—
More lovely perhaps than our own country seat—
I never could see, in the light of free grace
What pleasure they have there with nothing to eat.
With nothing to wear, if the climate is suiting,
We might get along I am sure pretty well;
No washing and starching and crimping and fluting,
No muslin and laces and trouble of dressing, they tell,
E'er troubles the women, or bothers the men,
Who soon grow accustomed, as people do here,
To fashions prevailing, and things that they ken;
To dresses fore-shortened where bosoms appear;
To bonnets that show but a rose in the wearing;
To dresses that sweep like a besom the street;
To dresses so gauzy the hoops through are seen;
To shoes quite as gauzy to cover the feet;
But watch how a man here goes raving and swearing,
At wife and all hands, if they've nothing to eat!
Mrs. Merdle Discourseth of Things Earthly.
No matter how costly or flimsy her dresses,
The angel you honor with your kind attentions;
No matter how foolish her wardrobe inventions,
You love her, or say so, from slipper to tresses;
But, presto! you call her the greatest of sinners,
Though smiling, she treats you to badly cooked dinners;
Which proves where the seat is of men's best affections,
With which 'pon their honor they extol us as wives,
And treat us at dinner with sagest reflections,
Of beauty, and duty we owe all our lives
To you, noble lords, of this mundane creation;
Which, judging from some things they tell us,
Was made for the creatures of this trading nation,
Who make it a business to buy us and sell us,
Like 'Erie,' or 'Central,' or other such stocks;
With care, when they bid for a very 'Miss Nancy,'
That she's of a stock that the brokers call 'fancy,'
Or else has a pocket 'chuck full of the rocks'—
The rocks that are wrecking each day of their sailing,
More fortunes than ever in ocean were swallowed;
Where 'ventures' of marriage their victims impaling
With mammon and mis'ry together have wallowed.