often, and is Sick,
That he at length begins to smoak the Trick;
Next time he keeps account, and plains it is,
He swears point-blank the Child is none of his.

_The Fourteenth Comfort of Matrimony._

The next a Widow thinks it best to Wed,
And takes the knowing Matron to his Bed,
A while he quenches her insatiate Fire,
But in a little times begins to tire,
The _Lady_ soon the difference can find,
And truly very plainly speaks her Mind,
She twits him of the good departed Man,
Whose like, she says, _She ne'er shall see again,
He never left me in a Morning so,
But took a parting Kiss before he'd go;
And get me some Good Thing for Breakfast too:
Well, he a dear kind Husband was to me,
But now my Days are spent in Misery._

_The Fifteenth Comfort of Matrimony._

Last, and not least of all these Comforts is,
The Man that's Wedded unto some Disease,
A peevish, crazy, and a sickly Wife,
The Burthen and the Nusance of his Life;
Her Bed, the meer resemblance of a Tomb,
And an _Apothecarys_ Shop her Room;
Coughing and Spitting all the Night she lies,
A very Antidote to Marriage Joys:
Yet the poor Man must bear with all these Ills,
Besides the Excessive Charge of Physick Bills,
A Nurse, fine Cordials, and a hundred things,
Until his Substance she to little brings,
Till may be she at length resigns to Death,
The only Comfort he cou'd hope on Earth.

FINIS.

* * * * *

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