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Don’t marry any woman under twenty; she is not come to her wickedness before that time; nor any woman who has a red nose at any age; because people make observations as you go along the street. “A cast of the eye”—as the lady casts it upon you—may pass muster under some circumstances; and I have even known those who thought it desirable; but absolute squinting is a monopoly of vision which ought not to be tolerated.
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Don’t on any account marry a “lively” young lady; that is, in other words, a “romp”; that is, in other words, a woman who has been hauled about by half your acquaintance.
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On the very day after your marriage, whenever you do marry, take one precaution. Be cursed with no more troubles for life than you have bargained for. Call the roll of all your wife’s even speaking acquaintance; and strike out every soul that you have—or fancy you ought to have—or fancy you ever shall have—a glimpse of dislike to. Upon this point be merciless. Your wife won’t hesitate—a hundred to one—between a husband and a gossip; and if she does, don’t you. Be particularly sharp upon the list of women; of course, men—you would frankly kick any one from Pall Mall to Pimlico who presumed only to recollect ever having seen her. And don’t be manœuvred out of what you mean by cards or morning calls, or any notion of what people call “good breeding.” ... Never dispute with her where the question is of no importance; nor, where it is of the least consequence, let any earthly consideration ever once induce you to give way.
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Few pieces of cant are more common than that which consists in re-echoing the old and ridiculous cry of “variety is charming,” “toujours perdrix,” etc., etc., etc. I deny the fact. I want no variety. Let things be really good, and I, for one, am in no danger of wearying of them. For example, to rise every day about half after nine—eat a couple of eggs and muffins, and drink some cups of genuine sound, clear coffee—then to smoke a cigar or so—read the Chronicle—skim a few volumes of some first-rate new novel, or perhaps pen a libel or two in a slight sketchy vein—then to take a bowl of strong, rich, invigorating soup—then to get on horseback, and ride seven or eight miles, paying a visit to some amiable, well-bred, accomplished young lady, in the course of it, and chattering away an hour with her,
“Sporting with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neœra’s hair,”