LONDON, Printed and Sold by Henry Hills,
in Black-Fryars, near the Water-side.

The Batchelors and Maids Answer to the
Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony.

Answer to the First Mock Comfort.

But why shou’d Marriage render Man undone? 
When nothing’s like it underneath the Sun. 
True Pleasures in the Marriage-Bed alone,
Real Joys without it never yet was known. 
The Charming Bliss in Wedlock chiefly lies,
A Single Life all Honest Men despise,
What greater Comfort can on Earth be found,
When two True Hearts are both together Crown’d. 
All other Pleasures are but Pains to this,
A Married Couple only, finds the Bliss. 
The Frowns of Fate, and other Worldly Cares,
Are daily lessen’d by divided Shares. 
The mutual Love of Man and Wife dispense,
With all the Chances of dark Providence;
Nay, If in Prison he shou’d chance to lie,
A Loving Wife brings Comforts and Supply. 
She pays him visits with Delight and Care,
And Loves him ne’re the less for being there.

Answer to the Second Mock Comfort.

And why shou’d not a Man adore his Wife,
Since She’s the only Comfort of his Life. 
A Gift presented by the Gods above,
A lively Emblem of the Charms of Love. 
All o’re Divine, a Heaven, here below
Man’s Paradice, where Joys in Plenty flow. 
No Shame, but Honour does bless’d Wedlock Crown,
And ushers in both Glory and Renown. 
Sweet pretty Babes, the Product of each Charm,
In Marriage-Bed protects us from all harm,
Their Innocence like Lambs and Doves appear,
Which make our Hearts and Minds quite void of Care. 
No Sorrow can lay hold of Man or Wife,
Where Love and Virtue is the Rule of Life.

Answer to the Third mock Comfort.

Oh!  Monstrous Man, nay Beast, (I almost said)
What cursed Thoughts are got into thy Head? 
To rail at those to whom thy Life is due,
No Mortal yet durst be so vile as you? 
If whipping Joan was here alive and stout,
You do deserve to be well whip’d about. 
Ten thousand lashes shall adorn thy Bumb,
If ever such a whipping Lass should come. 
’Tis strange a Woman shou’d be so envy’d,
Not only mock’d, but shamefully bely’d. 
With bawdy Gossips, and the Lord knows what,
To Name a Child the Husband never got. 
You call him Fool, and yet that Title claim,
And prove your self the Person you wou’d Name. 
You know it is a Woman’s due by Birth,
To Scold and Cry, next moment Joy and Mirth. 
One minute smile, the very next a Frown,
Perhaps the next she knocks her Husband down. 
But what does this to hinder higher Charms? 
When Joys are fix’d between the Husband’s Arms,
Such transports are out of the reach of thought,
Tis only known where Wedlock Bonds are wrought.