He sets her off, with a most dismal smell, } But not one silible of his own he'l tell. } He owns his Cuckoldom, and which is worse; How then the Cuckold su'd out his Divorce: No doubts, the Wife, that he has Abdicated, (Had he been good,) her ills had been abated: But Women when provok'd, without a Cause, They like enraged subjects, breaks the Lawes: His Whip and Spur, was too unkindly us'd; The weaker Vessel must not be abus'd. If he too strictly held her by the reins, He must accept the Cuckold for his pains. Farewel, thou scandal of a married Life, Thou single Fop, grand Hater of a Wife; Thou Plague to Churches, and to Women too, 'Tis time for either, to have done with you: No more attempt, Heavens Laws for to confute, No more advise Mankind, to be a Bruite; _But spend they Days in some dark, lonesome Cave, And to thy bruitish Lust be still a Slave._ Go sneak in some vile Corner of the Earth, With Pox and Plagues, resign thy poisonous Breath, And may the worst of Torturs be thy Death. _FINIS._ THE Ladies Choice: A POEM. LONDON Printed, and Sold by _J. How_, and _B. Bragg_, at the _Blew-Ball_ in _Avemary-Lane_, next _Ludgate-Street_, 1702. THE LADIES CHOICE. _Melissa Belinda._ Melissa. Prithee, _Belinda_ (for thou know'st I'm Young, Unskill'd in Arts that to our Sex belong) Thy wiser Counsels to my Youth impart; Teach me at once to _Love_, and _Guard_ my Heart; That I have _Wit_, can _Sing_ and _Dance_ you know, And the Men tell me I am Pretty too; I now have Fifteen pleasing Summers seen, And have been Courted by twice Fifteen Men; Still fresh Pretenders do my Peace Invade, They _Write_, they _Visit, Sigh_ and _Serenade_, And try allways to Catch a Harmless Maid. Then since our Virgin Thoughts are apt to Rove, And few escape that Noble Passion _Love_, Teach me, _Belinda_, by thy Arts to Chuse What Suiters to Admit, and which Refuse._ _Belinda._ _Melissa_, I am glad you're so Discreet, } For, that to more Experience you'll submit, } Argues your want of _Vanity_, not _Wit_. } And yet, my Dear, 'tis difficult t' Advise, } _Fools_ are so Plenty, and so Scarce the _Wise_: } To judge of Men, we shou'd not Trust our Eyes; } Outward Appearance may Delude the Sight; Nor is it good to gaze too near the Light: For tho' your _Beauty_, like a Painted Scene, May Dang'rous prove to the Vile Race of Men, Who at the greater distance do Admire, And shun the heat of Love's Important Fire. Whose _Little God_, like lesser Thieves, unseen, } Steals to our Hearts, we scarce know how or when, } His _Standard_ hoists and Guards the Fort Within; } Then like a Tyrant does our Peace Controul, And absolutely Lords it o'er the Soul: Thus, with your _Heart_, your _Fortune_ he'll Dispose: He does the _Man_, you but the _Husband_ chuse. And tho' a _Fool_, you must the _Wretch_ receive; For where we _Love_, we soon our Persons give.