20
they not knowing their own Minds one hour, will eternally teaze you. One while they'll be in all the Transports and Raptures of a passionate Lover; the next day forget they ever saw your Face.
And should you, by wonderful Chance, catch Lysander in the Noose of Matrimony, you are not then within the Reach of the Church's Prayers, For oven of Hell is no Redemption.
First, then as to the Beau, the execrementitious Part of Conversation. He, Narcissus like, will be ever ogling himself in a Looking glass, and daily falling in Love with his own Phiz, though perhaps all the while but one Remove from a Monkey; whilst neglected Celia mobs up her own charming Face pretends poor Creature to hate Jewels and Dress because Fop must have a 50 Guinea Wig, &c. and whilst he is strutting in the Park or Play, the only Felicity left her is a pot of Coffee, and perhaps some generous She Friend, that comes to mix Tears with her, and condole her worse than Egyptian Slavery!
In the second Place, I would have you shun a Rattle, a Flutterer, a noisy Nothing, as the Pest of Family, and miserable is the Body that has such a giddy Head; the prudent Wife having Penelope Task, to weave that Web that Monsieur Chatterunravels. Thus her Wisdom having got an Antagonist for Life, she must e'en fight her way throughout to the Regions of Rest, and never finish her Combat till in her peaceful Grave.
Beware, thirdly, of a Self-opinionated, grave, documenting Thing, the very Grand Signior for Tyranny, that nods at his Wife at Table, and speaks more by Winks and Signs than Words. Conversation of Mutes must certainly be very agreeable; and in a little Time, without the Trouble of Speaking to, You'll know when to hold up your Head, Miss; how to stand and kneel at Church. And being a Man of Literature, he will commend Quarles s Emblems to your study, and the more you get by Rote, the better
