The New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

ADVICE FOR CHOOSING A WIFE.

My friend, the pleasure of your future life
Depends on choosing, prudently, a wife;
This great concern demands your utmost care,
Would you avoid the torments others share.
The muse, at your command, with pleasure brings
Her help to aid your choice, and thus she sings;
Such be her birth, as best will suit your own,
Neither too mean, nor of too great renown;
For so prepared for all the turns of fate,
With decent joy he'll meet a prosperous state;
Or should the meagre hand of pale distress,
With pinching want, on ev'ry side oppress,
Unmov'd at fortune's frowns, he'll still abide
And smile, with cheerful patience, half your care beguile.
Let beauty's pleasing smiles her face adorn,
Gracefully modest, like the blushing morn;
Soft be the melting language of her tongue,
Artless and kind, sweet as the Siren's song;
Her actions free, her thoughts not vainly great,
Nor idly mean, but betwixt both complete;
Easy her shape, humility her mien,
Moving respect and love, whene'er she's seen:
Aw'd by right reason, let her act and move,
And still endeavouring to retain your love.
With piety to God and truth to man,
And uncontrain'd, in pious paths walk on:
You then agreeably your days will spend,
Finding in her, at once, a wife, a friend.
But, Sir, should you mindless of your fate,
From the vain crowd of females choose a mate,
Confin'd to nonsense, vanity and pride,
Perpetual noise, and fifty ills beside,
Altho' at first the flirting thing may please,
You'll soon regret the fatal loss of peace!
Or if ambitious, you should wed a dame,
Who by her birth preeminence may claim,
At every disappointment think to hear,
In boist'rous language sounded in your ear,
Of all that her fam'd ancestors have done,
The many laurels her great grandsire won.
From hence, the natural consequence will flow,
Her condescension when she stoop'd to you.
"And dare you now refuse"
Or should you, to avoid this grating pain,
Elect a maiden from the meanest train,
No lovely prospect on your choice will wait,
For dirty thoughts attend a dunghill state;
The sad depravity of birth will prove
Too deeply fix'd for fortune to remove.