_ But they say
Chastity
is very well pleasing to God.
Erasmus
_ But I don't go to Sea.
_Pa. _ But she has a Son.
_Ma. _ Youth is not very formidable.
_Pa. _ But he is very revengeful and resolute.
_Ma. _ What will he do to me?
_Pa. _ What will he do? That which I can't wish to be done to one I wish
so well to. God forbid I should.
_Ma. _ Tell me what it is, for I an't afraid to hear it.
_Pa. _ Well, I'll tell you then; if you slight me that love you, and am
no Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't by
his Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you fall
deeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love you
again.
_Ma. _ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die a
thousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and one
that won't love me neither.
_Pa. _ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certain
Maid.
_Ma. _ Where did she live?
_Pa. _ At _Orleans_.
_Ma. _ How many Years ago was it?
_Pa. _ How many Years! not ten Months.
_Ma. _ What was her Name? What do you stick at?
_Pa. _ Nothing at all. I know her as well as I know you.
_Ma. _ Why don't you tell me her Name then?
_Pa. _ Because I am afraid it is ominous. I wish she had been of some
other Name. She was your own Namesake.
_Ma. _ Who was her Father?
_Pa. _ Her Father is alive at this Time, and is a topping Lawyer, and a
rich Man.
_Ma. _ Tell me his Name.
_Pa. Mauritius. _
_Ma. _ His Sirname.
_Pa. Aglaius. _
_Ma. _ Is her Mother alive?
_Pa. _ No, she died lately.
_Ma. _ What did she die of, say you?
_Pa. _ Why of Grief, and it had like to have cost her Father his Life
too, for all he was a Man of a strong Constitution.
_Ma. _ Mayn't a Body know her Mother's Name.
_Pa. _ Yes, _Sophrona_, every Body knows her Name. What do you mean by
that Question? Do you think I invent a Lye?
_Ma. _ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected for
that. But tell me what became of the Maid?
_Pa. _ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had a
good Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for a
Prince; a certain Gentleman of an equal Fortune courted her.
_Ma. _ What was his Name?
_Pa. _ Ah me, I can't bear the Thoughts of it, his Name was _Pamphilus_
as well as mine. He try'd all the Ways in the World to gain her good
Will; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away with
Grief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Ape
than a Man.
_Ma. _ How!
_Pa. _ Ay, so wretchedly in Love, that 'tis impossible to relate it.
_Ma. _ Such a pretty Maid to fall in Love with such an ugly Fellow?
_Pa. _ Ay, with a long-visag'd, scald-headed, bald-pated, hollow-ey'd,
snub-nos'd, wide-mouth'd, rotton-tooth'd, stuttering, scabby-bearded,
hump-back'd, gor-belly'd, bandy-legg'd Fellow.
_Ma. _ You tell me of a mere _Thersites_.
_Pa. _ Nay, they said he had but one Ear, neither.
_Ma. _ It may be he had lost the other in the War.
_Pa. _ No, he lost it in Peace.
_Ma. _ Who dar'd to cut it off?
_Pa. Jack Ketch. _
_Ma. _ It may be his Riches made Amends.
_Pa. _ Over Head and Ears in Debt. And with this Husband this charming
Girl now spends her Days, and is now and then drubb'd into the Bargain.
_Ma. _ That is a miserable Story indeed.
_Pa. _ But it is a true one. It is a just Retaliation upon her, for
slighting the young Gentleman.
_Ma. _ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to endure
such a Husband.
_Pa. _ Then don't provoke Justice, but love him that loves you.
_Ma. _ Well, if that will do, I do love you again.
_Pa. _ Ay, But I would have that Love constant as mine own. I court a
Wife, not a Mistress.
_Ma. _ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that which
being once done, can never be undone again.
_Pa. _ I have been deliberating too long already.
_Ma. _ Love is none of the best Advisers; see that he han't impos'd upon
you, for they say he is blind.
_Pa. _ But that Love has Eyes in his Head, that proceeds from Judgment;
you don't appear so amiable, only because I love you, but you are really
so, and therefore I love you.
_Ma. _ But perhaps you don't know me thoroughly. When once a Shoe is on,
then you'll know where it pinches.
_Pa. _ I'll venture it, but I gather from many Conjectures, that it will
be happy for me.
_Ma. _ What, are you an Augur then?
_Pa. _ Yes, I am.
_Ma. _ Pray by what Auguries do you prognosticate all this? What, hath
the Night Owl appear'd luckily?
_Pa. _ She flies for Fools.
_Ma. _ Did you see a pair of Pigeons on your right Hand?
_Pa. _ Nothing of all this. But have for some Years been satisfy'd of the
Honesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no bad
Sign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have been
brought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestly
educated, than honourably born. And then there's another good
Circumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yours
and mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I have
known one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; and
besides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age,
Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, that
which is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree very
well with mine. There are some Things that may be very good in
themselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper may
be to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make me
prognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy,
lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by a
Denial.
_Ma. _ What would you have me say?
_Pa. _ I will sing _I am thine_ first, and you shall sing _I am thine_
after me.
_Ma. _ That indeed is but a short Song, but it has a long Chorus.
_Pa. _ What signifies it how long it is, so it be a merry one.
_Ma. _ I have that Respect for you, I would not have you do what you
should repent of when done.
_Pa. _ Leave off teasing me.
_Ma. _ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age or
Sickness have spoil'd my Beauty.
_Pa. _ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. I
don't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is your
Guest within it I am most in Love with.
_Ma. _ What Guest do you mean?
_Pa. _ This Soul of yours, whose Beauty will grow as Years increase.
_Ma. _ In Truth you have a very penetrating Sight, if you can see that
through so many Coverings.
_Pa. _ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and then
besides we shall be ever and anon renewing our Age by our Children.
_Ma. _ But then I shall lose my Maidenhead.
_Pa. _ Right enough; but prithee tell me, if you had a fine Orchard,
would you rather chuse never to have nothing but Blossoms on the Trees;
or would you rather, that the Blossoms should fall off, and see the
Boughs laden with ripe Apples?
_Ma. _ Oh, how cunningly you can argue!
_Pa. _ Answer me but this one Question, which is the finest Sight, a Vine
lying along upon the Ground and rotting, or twining round a Stake or an
Elm-Tree, loaden with ripe Grapes of a curious purple Colour?
_Ma. _ And pray do you answer me this Question; which is the most
pleasant Sight, a Rose fresh and fair upon the Tree, or one gathered and
withering in the Hand?
_Pa. _ I look upon that the happier Rose that dies in a Man's Hand; there
delighting the Sight and Smell, than that which withers away upon the
Bush, for it would die there, if it were let alone. As that Wine has the
most Honour done it; that is drank before it grows dead: Though this is
to be said, that the Flower of a Maid does not presently fade, as soon
as she is married: Nay, I have seen a great many, that before Marriage
look'd pale and languid, and just as if they were dropping into the
Ground: but having been in the Embraces of a Husband, they have
brightened up, just as if they just then began to bloom.
_Ma. _ But for all that, a Maidenhead is accounted a fine Thing.
_Pa. _ A young Virgin is indeed a pretty Thing: But what's more monstrous
than an old Maid? If your Mother had not shed that Blossom, we should
never have had this fine Flower, yourself. And if we don't make a barren
Match, as I hope we shan't, there will be never a Maid the less for us.
_Ma.
_ But they say Chastity is very well pleasing to God.
_Pa. _ And for that Reason I would marry a chaste Maid, that I may live
chastly with her. The Union of Minds will be more than that of Bodies.
We'll get Subjects for the King, and Servants for Christ, and where will
the Unchastity of this Matrimony be? And who can tell but we may live
together like _Joseph_ and _Mary_? And in the mean Time, we'll learn to
be Virgins, we don't arrive at Perfection all at once.
_Ma. _ What do you talk of? Is Virginity to be violated, that it may be
learned?
_Pa. _ Why not? As by little and little drinking Wine sparingly, we learn
to be abstemious. Which do you think is the most temperate Person, he
that is sitting at a Table full of Delicacies, and abstains from them,
or he who is out of the Reach of those Things that incite Intemperance?
_Ma. _ I think he is the most temperate Person, that the greatest Plenty
can't debauch.
_Pa. _ Which is the most laudable for Chastity, he that castrates
himself, or he that having his Members entire, forbears Venery?
_Ma. _ The latter, in my Opinion: I should call the former a Madman.
_Pa. _ Don't they in a Manner castrate themselves, that abjure
Matrimony?
_Ma. _ I think they do.
_Pa. _ Then it is no Virtue to forbear Coition.
_Ma. _ Is it not?
_Pa. _ I prove it thus; if it were of itself a Virtue not to copulate, it
were a Sin to do it: so that it follows of Consequence, it is a Fault
not to copulate, and a Virtue to do it.
_Ma. _ When does this Case happen?
_Pa. _ As often as the Husband requires his due of his Wife; especially
if he would embrace her for the Sake of Procreation.
_Ma. _ But if it be out of Wantonness? Is it not lawful to deny him?
_Pa. _ He may be admonish'd or dissuaded by soft Language to forbear; but
if he insists upon it, he ought not to be refus'd. But I hear very few
Husbands complain of their Wives upon this Account.
_Ma. _ But Liberty is a very sweet Thing.
_Pa. _ Virginity is rather a greater Burthen. I will be your King, and
you shall be my Queen, and we'll govern the Family according to our
Pleasure: And do you think that a Bondage?
_Ma. _ Marriage is called a Halter.
_Pa. _ They deserve a Halter that call it so. Pray tell me, is not your
Soul and Body bound together?
_Ma. _ Yes, I think they are.
_Pa. _ Just like a Bird in a Cage; and yet, ask it if it would be freed
from it, I believe it will say, no: And what's the Reason of that?
Because it is bound by its own Consent.
_Ma. _ But we have neither of us got much of Portion.
_Pa. _ We are the safer for that, you shall add to it at Home by good
Housewifery, and that is not without good Reason said to be a great
Revenue, and I'll increase it abroad by my Industry.
_Ma. _ But Children bring a great many Cares along with them.
_Pa. _ Have done with Scruples.
_Ma. _ Would you have me marry a dead Man?
_Pa. _ No, but I shall come to Life again then.
_Ma. _ Well, you have removed my Objection. My _Pamphilus_, farewell.
_Pa. _ Do you take Care of that.
_Ma. _ I wish you a good Night. Why do you sigh?
_Pa. _ A good Night, say you, I wish you would give me what you wish me.
_Ma. _ Soft and fair, you are a little too hasty.
_Pa. _ Must I not carry nothing of you along with me?
_Ma. _ This sweet Ball; it will cheer your Heart.
_Pa. _ But give me a Kiss too.
_Ma. _ No, I have a Mind to keep my Maidenhead for you entire and
untouch'd.
_Pa. _ Will a Kiss take any Thing from your Virginity?
_Ma. _ Will you give me leave to kiss other Folks?
_Pa. _ No, by no Means, I'd have my Kisses kept for myself.
_Ma. _ Well, I'll keep 'em for you: But there is another Reason why I
dare not give you a Kiss, as Things are at present.
_Pa. _ What is that?
_Ma. _ You say your Soul is gone out of your Body into mine, so that
there is but very little left. I am afraid that in Kissing, the little
that is left in you, should jump out of you into me, and so you should
be quite dead. Shake Hands as a Pledge of my Love, and so farewell. Do
you see that you manage the Matter vigorously, and I'll pray to God in
the mean Time, that whatsoever be done, may be for both our good.
_The VIRGIN AVERSE TO MATRIMONY. _
The ARGUMENT.
_A Virgin averse to Matrimony, will needs be a Nun. She
is dissuaded from it, and persuaded to moderate her
Inclination in that Matter, and to do nothing against her
Parents Consent, but rather to marry. That Virginity may
be maintain'd in a conjugal Life. The Monks Way of living
in Celibacy is rally'd. Children, why so call'd. He
abhors those Plagiaries who entice young Men and Maids
into Monasteries, as though Salvation was to be had no
other Way; whence it comes to pass, that many great Wits
are as it were buried alive. _
EUBULUS, CATHERINE.
_Eub. _ I am glad with all my Heart, that Supper is over at last, that we
may have an Opportunity to take a Walk, which is the greatest Diversion
in the World.
_Ca. _ And I was quite tir'd of sitting so long at Table.
_Eu. _ How green and charming does every Thing in the World look! surely
this is its Youth.
_Ca. _ Ay, so it is.
_Eu. _ But why is it not Spring with you too?
_Ca. _ What do you mean?
_Eu. _ Because you look a little dull.
_Ca. _ Why, don't I look as I use to do?
_Eu. _ Shall I show you how you look?
_Ca. _ With all my Heart.
_Eu. _ Do you see this Rose, how it contracts itself, now towards Night?
_Ca. _ Yes, I do see it: And what then?
_Eu. _ Why, just so you look.
_Ca. _ A very fine Comparison.
_Eu. _ If you won't believe me, see your own Face in this Fountain here.
What was the Meaning you sat sighing at Supper so?
_Ca. _ Pray don't ask Questions about that which don't concern you.
_Eu. _ But it does very much concern me, since I can't be chearful
myself, without you be so too. See now, there's another Sigh, and a deep
one too!
_Ca. _ There is indeed something that troubles my Mind. But I must not
tell it.
_Eu. _ What, won't you tell it me, that love you more dearly than I do my
own Sister: My _Katy_, don't be afraid to speak; be it what it will you
are safe.
_Ca. _ If I should be safe enough, yet I'm afraid I shall be never the
better in telling my Tale to one that can do me no good.
_Eu. _ How do you know that? If I can't serve you in the Thing itself,
perhaps I may in Counsel or Consolation.
_Ca. _ I can't speak it out.
_Eu. _ What is the Matter? Do you hate me?
_Ca. _ I love you more dearly than my own Brother, and yet for all that
my Heart won't let me divulge it.
_Eu. _ Will you tell me, if I guess it? Why do you quibble now? Give me
your Word, or I'll never let you alone till I have it out.
_Ca. _ Well then, I do give you my Word.
_Eu. _ Upon the whole of the Matter, I can't imagine what you should want
of being compleatly happy.
_Ca. _ I would I were so.
_Eu. _ You are in the very Flower of your Age: If I'm not mistaken, you
are now in your seventeenth Year.
_Ca. _ That's true.
_Eu. _ So that in my Opinion the Fear of old Age can't yet be any Part of
your Trouble.
_Ca. _ Nothing less, I assure you.
_Eu. _ And you are every Way lovely, and that is the singular Gift of
God.
_Ca. _ Of my Person, such as it is, I neither glory nor complain.
_Eu. _ And besides the Habit of your Body and your Complexion bespeak you
to be in perfect Health, unless you have some hidden Distemper.
_Ca. _ Nothing of that, I thank God.
_Eu. _ And besides, your Credit is fair.
_Ca. _ I trust it is.
_Eu. _ And you are endow'd with a good Understanding suitable to the
Perfections of your Body, and such a one as I could wish to myself, in
order to my Attainment of the liberal Sciences.
_Ca. _ If I have, I thank God for it.
_Eu. _ And again, you are of a good agreeable Humour, which is rarely met
with in great Beauties, they are not wanting neither.
_Pa. _ But she has a Son.
_Ma. _ Youth is not very formidable.
_Pa. _ But he is very revengeful and resolute.
_Ma. _ What will he do to me?
_Pa. _ What will he do? That which I can't wish to be done to one I wish
so well to. God forbid I should.
_Ma. _ Tell me what it is, for I an't afraid to hear it.
_Pa. _ Well, I'll tell you then; if you slight me that love you, and am
no Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't by
his Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you fall
deeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love you
again.
_Ma. _ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die a
thousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and one
that won't love me neither.
_Pa. _ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certain
Maid.
_Ma. _ Where did she live?
_Pa. _ At _Orleans_.
_Ma. _ How many Years ago was it?
_Pa. _ How many Years! not ten Months.
_Ma. _ What was her Name? What do you stick at?
_Pa. _ Nothing at all. I know her as well as I know you.
_Ma. _ Why don't you tell me her Name then?
_Pa. _ Because I am afraid it is ominous. I wish she had been of some
other Name. She was your own Namesake.
_Ma. _ Who was her Father?
_Pa. _ Her Father is alive at this Time, and is a topping Lawyer, and a
rich Man.
_Ma. _ Tell me his Name.
_Pa. Mauritius. _
_Ma. _ His Sirname.
_Pa. Aglaius. _
_Ma. _ Is her Mother alive?
_Pa. _ No, she died lately.
_Ma. _ What did she die of, say you?
_Pa. _ Why of Grief, and it had like to have cost her Father his Life
too, for all he was a Man of a strong Constitution.
_Ma. _ Mayn't a Body know her Mother's Name.
_Pa. _ Yes, _Sophrona_, every Body knows her Name. What do you mean by
that Question? Do you think I invent a Lye?
_Ma. _ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected for
that. But tell me what became of the Maid?
_Pa. _ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had a
good Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for a
Prince; a certain Gentleman of an equal Fortune courted her.
_Ma. _ What was his Name?
_Pa. _ Ah me, I can't bear the Thoughts of it, his Name was _Pamphilus_
as well as mine. He try'd all the Ways in the World to gain her good
Will; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away with
Grief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Ape
than a Man.
_Ma. _ How!
_Pa. _ Ay, so wretchedly in Love, that 'tis impossible to relate it.
_Ma. _ Such a pretty Maid to fall in Love with such an ugly Fellow?
_Pa. _ Ay, with a long-visag'd, scald-headed, bald-pated, hollow-ey'd,
snub-nos'd, wide-mouth'd, rotton-tooth'd, stuttering, scabby-bearded,
hump-back'd, gor-belly'd, bandy-legg'd Fellow.
_Ma. _ You tell me of a mere _Thersites_.
_Pa. _ Nay, they said he had but one Ear, neither.
_Ma. _ It may be he had lost the other in the War.
_Pa. _ No, he lost it in Peace.
_Ma. _ Who dar'd to cut it off?
_Pa. Jack Ketch. _
_Ma. _ It may be his Riches made Amends.
_Pa. _ Over Head and Ears in Debt. And with this Husband this charming
Girl now spends her Days, and is now and then drubb'd into the Bargain.
_Ma. _ That is a miserable Story indeed.
_Pa. _ But it is a true one. It is a just Retaliation upon her, for
slighting the young Gentleman.
_Ma. _ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to endure
such a Husband.
_Pa. _ Then don't provoke Justice, but love him that loves you.
_Ma. _ Well, if that will do, I do love you again.
_Pa. _ Ay, But I would have that Love constant as mine own. I court a
Wife, not a Mistress.
_Ma. _ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that which
being once done, can never be undone again.
_Pa. _ I have been deliberating too long already.
_Ma. _ Love is none of the best Advisers; see that he han't impos'd upon
you, for they say he is blind.
_Pa. _ But that Love has Eyes in his Head, that proceeds from Judgment;
you don't appear so amiable, only because I love you, but you are really
so, and therefore I love you.
_Ma. _ But perhaps you don't know me thoroughly. When once a Shoe is on,
then you'll know where it pinches.
_Pa. _ I'll venture it, but I gather from many Conjectures, that it will
be happy for me.
_Ma. _ What, are you an Augur then?
_Pa. _ Yes, I am.
_Ma. _ Pray by what Auguries do you prognosticate all this? What, hath
the Night Owl appear'd luckily?
_Pa. _ She flies for Fools.
_Ma. _ Did you see a pair of Pigeons on your right Hand?
_Pa. _ Nothing of all this. But have for some Years been satisfy'd of the
Honesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no bad
Sign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have been
brought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestly
educated, than honourably born. And then there's another good
Circumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yours
and mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I have
known one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; and
besides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age,
Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, that
which is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree very
well with mine. There are some Things that may be very good in
themselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper may
be to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make me
prognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy,
lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by a
Denial.
_Ma. _ What would you have me say?
_Pa. _ I will sing _I am thine_ first, and you shall sing _I am thine_
after me.
_Ma. _ That indeed is but a short Song, but it has a long Chorus.
_Pa. _ What signifies it how long it is, so it be a merry one.
_Ma. _ I have that Respect for you, I would not have you do what you
should repent of when done.
_Pa. _ Leave off teasing me.
_Ma. _ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age or
Sickness have spoil'd my Beauty.
_Pa. _ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. I
don't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is your
Guest within it I am most in Love with.
_Ma. _ What Guest do you mean?
_Pa. _ This Soul of yours, whose Beauty will grow as Years increase.
_Ma. _ In Truth you have a very penetrating Sight, if you can see that
through so many Coverings.
_Pa. _ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and then
besides we shall be ever and anon renewing our Age by our Children.
_Ma. _ But then I shall lose my Maidenhead.
_Pa. _ Right enough; but prithee tell me, if you had a fine Orchard,
would you rather chuse never to have nothing but Blossoms on the Trees;
or would you rather, that the Blossoms should fall off, and see the
Boughs laden with ripe Apples?
_Ma. _ Oh, how cunningly you can argue!
_Pa. _ Answer me but this one Question, which is the finest Sight, a Vine
lying along upon the Ground and rotting, or twining round a Stake or an
Elm-Tree, loaden with ripe Grapes of a curious purple Colour?
_Ma. _ And pray do you answer me this Question; which is the most
pleasant Sight, a Rose fresh and fair upon the Tree, or one gathered and
withering in the Hand?
_Pa. _ I look upon that the happier Rose that dies in a Man's Hand; there
delighting the Sight and Smell, than that which withers away upon the
Bush, for it would die there, if it were let alone. As that Wine has the
most Honour done it; that is drank before it grows dead: Though this is
to be said, that the Flower of a Maid does not presently fade, as soon
as she is married: Nay, I have seen a great many, that before Marriage
look'd pale and languid, and just as if they were dropping into the
Ground: but having been in the Embraces of a Husband, they have
brightened up, just as if they just then began to bloom.
_Ma. _ But for all that, a Maidenhead is accounted a fine Thing.
_Pa. _ A young Virgin is indeed a pretty Thing: But what's more monstrous
than an old Maid? If your Mother had not shed that Blossom, we should
never have had this fine Flower, yourself. And if we don't make a barren
Match, as I hope we shan't, there will be never a Maid the less for us.
_Ma.
_ But they say Chastity is very well pleasing to God.
_Pa. _ And for that Reason I would marry a chaste Maid, that I may live
chastly with her. The Union of Minds will be more than that of Bodies.
We'll get Subjects for the King, and Servants for Christ, and where will
the Unchastity of this Matrimony be? And who can tell but we may live
together like _Joseph_ and _Mary_? And in the mean Time, we'll learn to
be Virgins, we don't arrive at Perfection all at once.
_Ma. _ What do you talk of? Is Virginity to be violated, that it may be
learned?
_Pa. _ Why not? As by little and little drinking Wine sparingly, we learn
to be abstemious. Which do you think is the most temperate Person, he
that is sitting at a Table full of Delicacies, and abstains from them,
or he who is out of the Reach of those Things that incite Intemperance?
_Ma. _ I think he is the most temperate Person, that the greatest Plenty
can't debauch.
_Pa. _ Which is the most laudable for Chastity, he that castrates
himself, or he that having his Members entire, forbears Venery?
_Ma. _ The latter, in my Opinion: I should call the former a Madman.
_Pa. _ Don't they in a Manner castrate themselves, that abjure
Matrimony?
_Ma. _ I think they do.
_Pa. _ Then it is no Virtue to forbear Coition.
_Ma. _ Is it not?
_Pa. _ I prove it thus; if it were of itself a Virtue not to copulate, it
were a Sin to do it: so that it follows of Consequence, it is a Fault
not to copulate, and a Virtue to do it.
_Ma. _ When does this Case happen?
_Pa. _ As often as the Husband requires his due of his Wife; especially
if he would embrace her for the Sake of Procreation.
_Ma. _ But if it be out of Wantonness? Is it not lawful to deny him?
_Pa. _ He may be admonish'd or dissuaded by soft Language to forbear; but
if he insists upon it, he ought not to be refus'd. But I hear very few
Husbands complain of their Wives upon this Account.
_Ma. _ But Liberty is a very sweet Thing.
_Pa. _ Virginity is rather a greater Burthen. I will be your King, and
you shall be my Queen, and we'll govern the Family according to our
Pleasure: And do you think that a Bondage?
_Ma. _ Marriage is called a Halter.
_Pa. _ They deserve a Halter that call it so. Pray tell me, is not your
Soul and Body bound together?
_Ma. _ Yes, I think they are.
_Pa. _ Just like a Bird in a Cage; and yet, ask it if it would be freed
from it, I believe it will say, no: And what's the Reason of that?
Because it is bound by its own Consent.
_Ma. _ But we have neither of us got much of Portion.
_Pa. _ We are the safer for that, you shall add to it at Home by good
Housewifery, and that is not without good Reason said to be a great
Revenue, and I'll increase it abroad by my Industry.
_Ma. _ But Children bring a great many Cares along with them.
_Pa. _ Have done with Scruples.
_Ma. _ Would you have me marry a dead Man?
_Pa. _ No, but I shall come to Life again then.
_Ma. _ Well, you have removed my Objection. My _Pamphilus_, farewell.
_Pa. _ Do you take Care of that.
_Ma. _ I wish you a good Night. Why do you sigh?
_Pa. _ A good Night, say you, I wish you would give me what you wish me.
_Ma. _ Soft and fair, you are a little too hasty.
_Pa. _ Must I not carry nothing of you along with me?
_Ma. _ This sweet Ball; it will cheer your Heart.
_Pa. _ But give me a Kiss too.
_Ma. _ No, I have a Mind to keep my Maidenhead for you entire and
untouch'd.
_Pa. _ Will a Kiss take any Thing from your Virginity?
_Ma. _ Will you give me leave to kiss other Folks?
_Pa. _ No, by no Means, I'd have my Kisses kept for myself.
_Ma. _ Well, I'll keep 'em for you: But there is another Reason why I
dare not give you a Kiss, as Things are at present.
_Pa. _ What is that?
_Ma. _ You say your Soul is gone out of your Body into mine, so that
there is but very little left. I am afraid that in Kissing, the little
that is left in you, should jump out of you into me, and so you should
be quite dead. Shake Hands as a Pledge of my Love, and so farewell. Do
you see that you manage the Matter vigorously, and I'll pray to God in
the mean Time, that whatsoever be done, may be for both our good.
_The VIRGIN AVERSE TO MATRIMONY. _
The ARGUMENT.
_A Virgin averse to Matrimony, will needs be a Nun. She
is dissuaded from it, and persuaded to moderate her
Inclination in that Matter, and to do nothing against her
Parents Consent, but rather to marry. That Virginity may
be maintain'd in a conjugal Life. The Monks Way of living
in Celibacy is rally'd. Children, why so call'd. He
abhors those Plagiaries who entice young Men and Maids
into Monasteries, as though Salvation was to be had no
other Way; whence it comes to pass, that many great Wits
are as it were buried alive. _
EUBULUS, CATHERINE.
_Eub. _ I am glad with all my Heart, that Supper is over at last, that we
may have an Opportunity to take a Walk, which is the greatest Diversion
in the World.
_Ca. _ And I was quite tir'd of sitting so long at Table.
_Eu. _ How green and charming does every Thing in the World look! surely
this is its Youth.
_Ca. _ Ay, so it is.
_Eu. _ But why is it not Spring with you too?
_Ca. _ What do you mean?
_Eu. _ Because you look a little dull.
_Ca. _ Why, don't I look as I use to do?
_Eu. _ Shall I show you how you look?
_Ca. _ With all my Heart.
_Eu. _ Do you see this Rose, how it contracts itself, now towards Night?
_Ca. _ Yes, I do see it: And what then?
_Eu. _ Why, just so you look.
_Ca. _ A very fine Comparison.
_Eu. _ If you won't believe me, see your own Face in this Fountain here.
What was the Meaning you sat sighing at Supper so?
_Ca. _ Pray don't ask Questions about that which don't concern you.
_Eu. _ But it does very much concern me, since I can't be chearful
myself, without you be so too. See now, there's another Sigh, and a deep
one too!
_Ca. _ There is indeed something that troubles my Mind. But I must not
tell it.
_Eu. _ What, won't you tell it me, that love you more dearly than I do my
own Sister: My _Katy_, don't be afraid to speak; be it what it will you
are safe.
_Ca. _ If I should be safe enough, yet I'm afraid I shall be never the
better in telling my Tale to one that can do me no good.
_Eu. _ How do you know that? If I can't serve you in the Thing itself,
perhaps I may in Counsel or Consolation.
_Ca. _ I can't speak it out.
_Eu. _ What is the Matter? Do you hate me?
_Ca. _ I love you more dearly than my own Brother, and yet for all that
my Heart won't let me divulge it.
_Eu. _ Will you tell me, if I guess it? Why do you quibble now? Give me
your Word, or I'll never let you alone till I have it out.
_Ca. _ Well then, I do give you my Word.
_Eu. _ Upon the whole of the Matter, I can't imagine what you should want
of being compleatly happy.
_Ca. _ I would I were so.
_Eu. _ You are in the very Flower of your Age: If I'm not mistaken, you
are now in your seventeenth Year.
_Ca. _ That's true.
_Eu. _ So that in my Opinion the Fear of old Age can't yet be any Part of
your Trouble.
_Ca. _ Nothing less, I assure you.
_Eu. _ And you are every Way lovely, and that is the singular Gift of
God.
_Ca. _ Of my Person, such as it is, I neither glory nor complain.
_Eu. _ And besides the Habit of your Body and your Complexion bespeak you
to be in perfect Health, unless you have some hidden Distemper.
_Ca. _ Nothing of that, I thank God.
_Eu. _ And besides, your Credit is fair.
_Ca. _ I trust it is.
_Eu. _ And you are endow'd with a good Understanding suitable to the
Perfections of your Body, and such a one as I could wish to myself, in
order to my Attainment of the liberal Sciences.
_Ca. _ If I have, I thank God for it.
_Eu. _ And again, you are of a good agreeable Humour, which is rarely met
with in great Beauties, they are not wanting neither.
