MARRIAGE.

What, what is Marriage? Harris, Priscian! Assist me with a definition.— “Oh!” cries a charming silly fool, Emerging from her boarding-school— “Marriage is—love without disguises, It is a—something that arises From raptures and from stolen glances, To be the end of all romances; Vows—quarrels—moonshine—babes—but hush! I mustn’t have you see me blush.” “Pshaw!” says a modern modish wife, “Marriage is splendour, fashion, life; A house in town, and villa shady, Balls, diamond bracelets, and ‘my lady;’ Then for finale, angry words, Some people’s—‘obstinate’s—‘absurds!’ And peevish hearts, and silly heads, And oaths, and bêtes, and separate beds.” An aged bachelor, whose life Has just been sweetened with a wife, Tells out the latent grievance thus: “Marriage is—odd! for one of us ’Tis worse a mile than rope or tree, Hemlock, or sword, or slavery; An end at once to all our ways, Dismission to the one-horse chaise; Adieu to Sunday car, and pig, Adieu to wine, and whist, and wig; Our friends turn out,—our wife’s are clapt in; ’Tis ‘Exit crony,’—‘Enter captain!’ Then hurry in a thousand thorns,— Quarrels, and compliments,—and horns. This is the yoke, and I must wear it; Marriage is—hell, or something near it!” “Why, marriage,” says an exquisite, Sick from the supper of last night, “Marriage is—after one by me! I promised Tom to ride at three.— Marriage is—’gad! I’m rather late; La Fleur—my stays! and chocolate!— Marriage is—really, though, ’twas hard To lose a thousand on a card; Sink the old Duchess!—three revokes! ’Gad! I must fell the abbey oaks: Mary has lost a thousand more!— Marriage is—’gad! a cursed bore!” Hymen, who hears the blockheads groan, Rises indignant from his throne, And mocks their self-reviling tears, And whispers thus in Folly’s ears: “O frivolous of heart and head! If strifes infest your nuptial bed, Not Hymen’s hand, but guilt and sin, Fashion and folly, force them in; If on your couch is seated Care, I did not bring the scoffer there; If Hymen’s torch is feebler grown, The hand that quenched it was your own; And what I am, unthinking elves, Ye all have made me for yourselves!”