Between a WOMAN of FORTUNE and a MAN whom she married for Love.

S.
AND is it thus, ungrateful Man,
You thwart that providential plan
Which doom’d me to your arms for life,
And made me the most wretched Wife?

H.
Nay, Madam, if it was decreed
That you and I should wretched be,
You but receive th’ allotted meed
Most justly due for loving me.

My character full well was known
Ere to your vows I made pretence,
And sure no folly but your own
Ere thought a batter’d Rake had sense:

Had sense or virtue to reform*,
T’amend the error of his ways,
To seek the port, to shun the storm,
Or bid bright Virtue bless his days.

No, no, ’tis vulgar error all
To think a Rake can make you bless,
Your charms, however bright, soon pall.
And fail to warm the Rakish breast:

For he, who in promiscuous love,
The frailty of the Sex has seen,
Must fail e’en Virtue’s charms to prove,
Tho’ garnish’d by the Cyprian Queen.

S.
In truth the fair confession made,
Serves but to prove that I’m betray’d;
But what a Villain must you be,
Confessing this, to banter me?
What had I done, insidious Man,
To be the Dupe of your vile plan?
What in my conduct was amiss,
That I should be reduced to this,
This, the most wretched state of life,
A Batter’d Rake’s insulted Wife?

H.
I told you before, and I tell you again,
The folly’s your own my dear Madam;
But, spite of all caution, you hunt for the Men,
And repent of all Rakes when youv’e had ‘em.

Would woman but guess, or one moment conceive,
How much from a Rake she might suffer,
I swear there would not be one Daughter of Eve
But would spurn his insidious offer.

So you, Madam, you to the rest of the Sex,
Are fairly hung up an example;
And to warn them that Rakes will still strive to perplex,
Thank Heaven that you are the sample.

S.
Well, Heaven be prais’d, if my sad fate
In present, or at future date,
Shall save one Woman from that ill
Which waits upon her own free-will!
The specious form, th’ attractive face,
And ah! too oft, the nameless grace
That Women think in Rakes they see,
Sinks them to deepest Misery:
For never yet true heart was shewn,
That lov’d our Sex, but ONE ALONE.

*It is a common observation, that “a reformed Rake makes” the best husband. Perhaps nothing is more false. The mind that is once tainted by an illicit and habitual commerce with the sex, will not readily return to the paths of Virtue. In one instancc in ten thousand such a case may have happened; but it is a dreadful risk for a Woman to run: besides, what Woman of common delicacy would take up with the refute of the stews?