Fair one, why cannot you an old man love?
He may as useful, and more constant prove.
Experience shews you that maturer years
Are a security against those fears
Youth will expose you to; whose wild desire
As it is hot, so 'tis as rash as fire.
Marke how the blaze extinct in ashes lies,
Leaving no brand, nor ember when it dies
Which might the flame renew: Thus soon consumes
Youth's wandring heat, and vanishes in fumes.
When age's riper love unapt to stray
Through loose and giddy change of objects, may
In your warm bosome like a cynder lie
Quickned, and kindled by your sparkling eie.
'Tis not deni'd, there are extremes in both
Which may the phansy move to like or loath;
Yet of the two you better shall endure
To marry with the Cramp, then Calenture.
Who would in wisdom choose the Torrid Zone
Therein to settle a Plantation?
Merchants can tell you, those hot Climes were made
But at the longest for a three years' trade:
And though the Indies cast the sweeter smell,
Yet Health, and Plenty do more Northward dwell;
For where the raging Sun-beams burn the Earth
Her scorched mantle withers into dearth;
Yet, when that drought becomes the Harvest's curse,
Snow doth the tender Corn most kindly nurse.
Why now then wooe you not some snowy head
To take you in meer pitty to his bed?
I doubt the harder task were to perswade
Him to love you: For, if what I have said
In Virgins, as in Vegetals hold true,
Hee'l prove the better Nurse to cherish you.
Some men we know renown'd for wisdom grown
By old records and antique Medalls shown;
Why ought not women then be held most wise
Who can produce living antiquities?
Besides if care of that main happiness
Your sex triumphs in, doth your thoughts possess,
I mean your beauty from decay to keep,
No wash, nor mask is like an old man's sleep.
Young wives need never to be Sun-burnt fear
Who their old husbands for Umbrellaes wear.
How russet looks an Orchard on the hill
To one that's water'd by some neighb'ring Drill?
Are not the floated Medowes ever seen
To flourish soonest, and hold longest green?
You may be sure no moist'ning lacks that Bride
Who lies with Winter thawing by her side.
She should be fruitful too, as Fields that joyne
Unto the melting waste of Appenine.
Whil'st the cold morning-drops bedew the Rose
It doth nor leaf, nor smell, nor colour lose.
Then doubt not Sweet! Age hath supplies of wet
To keep You like that flow'r in water set.
Dripping Catarrhs and Fontinells are things
Will make You think You grew betwixt Two Springs;
And should You not think so, You scarce allow
The force, or Merit of Your Marriage-Vow;
Where Maids a new Creed learn, and must from thence
Believe against their own, or other's sence.
Else Love will nothing differ from neglect,
Which turns not to a Vertue each defect.
I'le say no more but this: you women make
Your Children's reck'ning by the Almanake.
I like it well; So you contented are
To choose their Fathers by that Kalendar.
Turn then old Erra Pater, and there see
According to life's posture and degree
What Age, or what Complexion is most fit
To make an English Maid happy by it;
And You shall find, if You will choose a Man
Set justly for Your own Meridian,
Though You perhaps let One and Twenty woo
Your Elevation is for Fifty Two.
He may as useful, and more constant prove.
Experience shews you that maturer years
Are a security against those fears
Youth will expose you to; whose wild desire
As it is hot, so 'tis as rash as fire.
Marke how the blaze extinct in ashes lies,
Leaving no brand, nor ember when it dies
Which might the flame renew: Thus soon consumes
Youth's wandring heat, and vanishes in fumes.
When age's riper love unapt to stray
Through loose and giddy change of objects, may
In your warm bosome like a cynder lie
Quickned, and kindled by your sparkling eie.
'Tis not deni'd, there are extremes in both
Which may the phansy move to like or loath;
Yet of the two you better shall endure
To marry with the Cramp, then Calenture.
Who would in wisdom choose the Torrid Zone
Therein to settle a Plantation?
Merchants can tell you, those hot Climes were made
But at the longest for a three years' trade:
And though the Indies cast the sweeter smell,
Yet Health, and Plenty do more Northward dwell;
For where the raging Sun-beams burn the Earth
Her scorched mantle withers into dearth;
Yet, when that drought becomes the Harvest's curse,
Snow doth the tender Corn most kindly nurse.
Why now then wooe you not some snowy head
To take you in meer pitty to his bed?
I doubt the harder task were to perswade
Him to love you: For, if what I have said
In Virgins, as in Vegetals hold true,
Hee'l prove the better Nurse to cherish you.
Some men we know renown'd for wisdom grown
By old records and antique Medalls shown;
Why ought not women then be held most wise
Who can produce living antiquities?
Besides if care of that main happiness
Your sex triumphs in, doth your thoughts possess,
I mean your beauty from decay to keep,
No wash, nor mask is like an old man's sleep.
Young wives need never to be Sun-burnt fear
Who their old husbands for Umbrellaes wear.
How russet looks an Orchard on the hill
To one that's water'd by some neighb'ring Drill?
Are not the floated Medowes ever seen
To flourish soonest, and hold longest green?
You may be sure no moist'ning lacks that Bride
Who lies with Winter thawing by her side.
She should be fruitful too, as Fields that joyne
Unto the melting waste of Appenine.
Whil'st the cold morning-drops bedew the Rose
It doth nor leaf, nor smell, nor colour lose.
Then doubt not Sweet! Age hath supplies of wet
To keep You like that flow'r in water set.
Dripping Catarrhs and Fontinells are things
Will make You think You grew betwixt Two Springs;
And should You not think so, You scarce allow
The force, or Merit of Your Marriage-Vow;
Where Maids a new Creed learn, and must from thence
Believe against their own, or other's sence.
Else Love will nothing differ from neglect,
Which turns not to a Vertue each defect.
I'le say no more but this: you women make
Your Children's reck'ning by the Almanake.
I like it well; So you contented are
To choose their Fathers by that Kalendar.
Turn then old Erra Pater, and there see
According to life's posture and degree
What Age, or what Complexion is most fit
To make an English Maid happy by it;
And You shall find, if You will choose a Man
Set justly for Your own Meridian,
Though You perhaps let One and Twenty woo
Your Elevation is for Fifty Two.