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THE GENTLEMEN'S WIFE.
- Don't argue to me about modes simplicity!
- of grace unadorned—not a truth can you tell.
- None else should you wed, if you long for felicity,
- Than a lady of fashion, a flirt and a belle.
- They may boast as they please of the Venus of Italy,
- In figure so faultless, the model of yore;
- But in form far exceed—they must own to it
- bitterly—
- Our maids, dressed in petticoats nearly a score.
- How cheering the thought to a man of gentility,
- That in all polite knowledge his wife is expert!
- And how would it shock every nice sensibility,
- If he thought she could whitewash, or mend an old shirt!
- For surely no husband who loves with intensity
- Would allow his hearts idol to clean off the chairs—
- To clear the piano from dust's gathering density
- To sweep out the parlor, or dust down the stairs.
- Nay! sooner by far, without nonsense or vanity,
- Would each man of feeling a sacrifice make,
- And perish himself of a lingering inanity,
- Than marry a girl who could cook a beef-steak.
- What! degrade his dear wife in the scale of creation,
- To the level of scullions who work for their pay?
- Let his ever prized dear make the kitchen her station,
- And toil like a cook to get dinner each day?
- Oh! perish the thought of such shameless vulgarity!
- Let fashion and sentiment still have their sway,
- And our belles with low house-work have no familiarity,
- But shine in accomplishments tres distingue.
- No! the wife for a gentleman loving politely,
- With beauty alluring should fascinate well;
- And none can bewitch him with graces more brightly,
- Than a lady of fashion, a flirt, and a belle.
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