Sophia. My dear Sister, How happy are we in this blessed Retirement, free from the Hurry of the noisy Town! Here we can contemplate on the Wonders of Nature, and on the Wisdom of the great Founder of the Universe. Do you see how the Leaves of this Thicket are grown, since we first retired to its Shadow? It now affords us a sufficient Shelter from the Heat of the Sun, from Storms, and Rain; see yonder Shrub, what Abundance of Cyons sprout from its Root? See yonder Ewes, with their pretty Lambs skipping and dancing by their Sides. How careful is Nature to propagate every Part of the Handywork of the Almighty! But you and I, my Politica, are useless Creatures, not answering the End of our Creation in the Propagation of our Species, for which, next the Service of our Creator, we came into the World. This is our Sin, and we ought to be Transgressors no longer.
Politica. Every Creature desires to propagate its Species, and Nature dictates to every Part of the Creation the Manner of doing it. The brute Beasts are subservient to this Law, and wholly answer the End of their Creation: Now there is the same Desire in Mankind; but we, who are endowed with noble Faculties, and who have Countenances erected to behold the Wonders of God in the Firmament of Heaven, look so far into the Earth, that we sink beneath the Dignity of Beasts. In being averse to Generation, we offer Violence to the Laws of God and Nature imprinted on our Minds. What she can say, that Nature does not prompt her to the Propagation of her Species? Which, indeed, is one Argument of the Immortality of the Soul; for the rational Faculties concur with the Dictates of Nature in this Point. We are, as it were, immortal upon Earth, in our surviving Children. It is a Sort of Hyperbole, but it is as near Truth as possibly can be. We are all of us desirous of Life; and, since, being mortal, we cannot for ever inhabit this glorious World, we are willing to leave our Children in Possession.
I cannot agree with you, Madam, that it is our Fault we do not propagate our Species, at least, I am sure, it is none of mine; I am young, and healthy, and beautiful enough, and Nature daily tells me what Work I ought to do; the Laws of God circumscribe the Doing of it; and yet, notwithstanding my Conformity to both, you know, my Circumstances will not admit of Marriage.
Sophia. The Impulse of Nature in me, in that Respect, is as great as it can be in you, but still under the Regulations of the strictest Rules of Virtue. The End of our Creation might be better answered, were not the matrimonial Knot to be tied only by the Purse-string. I can say, I am young and beautiful, and that without any Vanity. This Mr. H---- knows well enough; he loves me intirely, and, I am sure, had rather live all his Life-time with me in a Garret, on the Scrag-end of a Neck of Mutton, than with the Lady his Father proposes; but the old Curmudgeon will not let his Son have the least Thoughts of me, because the Muck, my Father has left me, will not fill so many Dung-carts, as he can fill for his Son: It is even true, what the Parson said, 'Matrimony is become a Matter of Money.' This is the Reason, that you and I stick on Hand so long, as the Tradesmen at London say, when they cannot put off their Daughters.
Politica. Matrimony is, indeed, become a mere Trade; they carry their Daughters to Smithfield, as they do Horses, and sell to the highest Bidder. Formerly, I have heard, nothing went current in the Matrimonial Territories, but Birth and Blood; but, alas! this was in the antiquated Times, when Virtue and Honour were a Commodity in England, and when the Nobility and Gentry were in Possession of large Estates, and were content to live upon them, and keep Courts of their own in the Country; but, since they abandoned the State and Grandeur of their Fore-fathers, and became Courtiers, and extravagantly wasted their Substance in polluted Amours in the City, they have no Way to repair the Cracks in the Estates, but by Marrying of Fortunes; and, if the Woman be a Fortune, it is no Matter how she is descended; Gold is the Quarry they fly at. I remember some old Verses to this Purpose:
'Gold Marriages makes, 'tis the Center of Love; 'It sets up the Man, and it helps up the Woman: 'By the Golden Rule all Mortals do move, 'For Gold makes Lords bow to the Brat of a Broom-man.'
These Verses are older than either you, or I, and yet they are true in our Time.
Sophia. Aye, Madam, too true, I find it so; but, methinks, it is a mere Way of selling Children for Money, when, poor Creatures, they often purchase what will be a Plague to them all their Life-time, a cursed ill-natured Shrew, or a beastly, ill-conditioned Husband. Let me live a Maid to the last Minute of my Life, rather than thus to lose my Content, my Peace of Mind, and domestick Quiet, and all this for the inconsiderable Trifle of a large Bag of Money for my Portion. Let the old Curmudgeons keep the Golden Coxcombs, their Sons, for the best Market. Heaven send me a Spouse, that has Sense enough to despise a Bargain in Petticoats with Abundance of Money and no Brains! Methinks, a Smithfield Match is so very ridiculous, that it might nauseate a half-witted Courtier. How ridiculous is it for an old Miser to shew the Portion first, and his Daughter afterwards! And, when both Parties are agreed upon the Price, then Miss goes off, coarse or handsome, good or ill-natured, it is no Matter. I fancy, an old Miser, exposing his Daughter to Sale, looks like a Country Farmer selling his white-faced Calf in the Market, or like a Grasier enhancing the Price of a ragged, scrubby Ox, from the Consideration of Abundance of Tallow he will turn out. Even just such a Thing is a Smithfield Match; and, as soon as the Miser has struck the Bargain for his Daughter, away he goes to the Parson's Toll-book, and there is an End of the Matter.
Politica. It is even so; but it is a cursed wicked Way of Wedding; it is perfect Kidnapping Children into the Marriage Plantations. This Practice is contrary to the Laws of Nature and God. Those pretty Birds, you now hear singing over our Heads, last Valentine's Day, chose every one his Mate, without the Direction, or Approbation of their Parents. The Scripture says (I think it is in the Sixth of Genesis, and the second Verse) That the Sons of God saw the Daughters of Men, that they were fair; and they took them Wives of all which they chose. Do but mind this Text of Scripture, it is very much to our Purpose; it is not there said, That the Sons of God saw the Daughters of Men, that they had Abundance of Money, but they were fair, i. e. they were such as were beautiful and lovely. This was the Attractive of Courtship. It is not here said, that the old Misers, as now, carried their Sons and Daughters to Marriage-Fair, and swopped one for the other, with so much Money and the Vantage; but here the Sons are left to chuse themselves Wives, and they chose such as were fair, even just such as my beautiful Sophia. And let me make this farther Remark, That, for Chusing such Wives, they are called the Sons of God: Hence it naturally follows, That whosoever do chuse Wives after any other Manner are the Sons of the Devil; and thus the young sold Couple are the Son and Daughter of the Devil, and the old Miser, that sold them, is the Devil's Brother-in-law, and so they are matched into a very fine Family.
Sophia. Truly, Sister, I am apt to think, God Almighty has nothing to do with such Matches, though we have a common Proverb in England, 'That Matches are made in Heaven;' I can truly say, as the Country Wench did, 'They are a long Time in coming down.' I have waited for one a great While to no Purpose; my Money will not grow to the Height of a Husband, though I water it with Tears, and air it with Sighs; but, prithee, Sister, let us contrive some Way or other how to remove this great Evil, this Grievance of Celibacy, under which the Nation groaneth. I can take it to be nothing less than a National Judgment, when our Men, the Strength of our Kingdom, are daily consumed and wasted away by the Wars, and there is no Care taken of a Supply. Our Ships and Armies, in a short Time, will want Soldiers; but this is none of our Fault; you and I would endeavour at a Race of Heroes for the Service of our Country, if we could come honestly at the Instruments which make them.
Politica. It is very true; but the Remedy: In the first Place, Sister, let us consider the Causes of the Evil, and then the Remedy. Begin, Madam, let me hear your Opinion of the Cause of this Evil.
Sophia. None fitter than your judicious Self to lead the Way in this Argument: But, however, Madam, I will obey your Command; and I think it is Want of Virtue both in young Men and Women, that is the chief Cause of this destructive Evil.
Out of Civility to the Man, I will begin first with our own Sex. I am ashamed, and blush to speak it, how many lewd Creatures there are of our Sex both in the Town and Country; were there not so many Whores, there would be more Wives. The vicious Sort of Men are by them kept from marrying; for it is mere Virtue must confine a Man to a married State, where he has an uninterrupted Converse with Womankind as seldom and as often as he pleases, without Confinement to any particular Person or Temper. This made a Nobleman say, that Two Things could never be wanted in London, a Wife and a Watch; because one may have a Whore, and see what it is a Clock, at the End of every Street.
The numerous Company of Strumpets and Harlots, in London, makes the lewd Sort of Men out of Love with Matrimony. Nay, I have heard them say, There is no Woman honest after the Age of Fifteen. I know they are Lyars; but, I am sorry to say it, they have too much Reason to be out of Love with our Sex. Sometimes I myself am almost of their Opinion, especially when I consider how shamefully some lewd Women prostitute themselves to every rascally Porter and Boy: And I think it more abominable in the Women than the Men, for Nature has given us more Modesty; and, did not the Whores ply in the Streets, the Leacher could never stumble over them.
The Men, they are grown full as effeminate as the Women; we are rivalled by them even in the Fooleries peculiar to our Sex: They dress like Anticks and Stage-Players, and are as ridiculous as Monkies: They sit in monstrous long Perukies, like so many Owls in Ivy-Bushes; and esteem themselves more upon the Reputation of being a Beau, than on the substantial Qualifications of Honour, Courage, Learning, and Judgment. If you heard them talk, you would think yourself at a Gossipping at Dover, or that you heard the learned Confabulation of the Boys in the Piazza's of Christ's-Hospital. Did you ever see a Creature more ridiculous than that Stake of Humane Nature which dined the other Day at our House, with his great long Wig to cover his Head and Face, which was no bigger than an Hackney-Turnep, and much of the same Form and Shape? Bless me how it looked! just like a great Platter of French Soup with a little Bit of Flesh in the Middle. Did you mark the beau Tiff of his Wig, what a deal of Pains he took to toss it back, when the very Weight thereof was like to draw him from his Seat? Did you not take Notice how he replenished his Snout with Snuff, and what Pains he took to let us know that it was Vigo? Did you not wonder at his learned Discourse of the Womens Accoutrements, from the Top-knot to the Laced Shoe; and what Lectures he read on the Fan, Masque, and Gloves? He understood Ribbons and Silk as well as a Milliner and Mercer, and was a perfect Chymist in Beauty Washes and Essences: In short, Madam, did you ever see a more accomplished Coxcomb in all your Life?
