FABLE [12] XII. Cupid, Hymen, and Plutus. John Gay Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T13818 Gay, John, 1685-1732. FABLES. By Mr. GAY. London Printed for J. Tonson and J. Watts, MDCCXXVII. 1727 pp. 40-42. [14],173,[1]p.: ill.; 4°.

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FABLE [ 12 ] XII . Cupid , Hymen , and Plutus . As Cupid in Cythera's grove Employ'd the lesser powers of love , Some shape the bow , or fit the string , Some give the taper shaft its wing , Or turn the polish'd quiver's mold , Or head the darts with temper'd gold . Amidst their toil and various care , Thus Hymen , with assuming air , Addrest the God . Thou purblind chit , Of aukward and ill-judging wit , If matches are no better made , At once I must forswear my trade . You send me such ill-coupled folks , That 'tis a shame to sell them yokes . They squabble for a pin , a feather , And wonder how they came together . The husband's sullen , dogged , shy , The wife grows flippant in reply ; He loves command and due restriction , And she as well likes contradiction ; She never slavishly submits , She'll have her will , or have her fits ; He this way tugs , she t'other draws , The man grows jealous , and with cause , Nothing can save him but divorce , And here the wife complys of course . When , says the Boy , had I to do With either your affairs or you ? I never idly spend my darts ; You trade in mercenary hearts : For settlements the lawyer's fee'd ; Is my hand witness to the Deed ? If they like cat and dog agree , Go rail at Plutus , not at me . Plutus appear'd , and said ; 'Tis true , In marriage , gold is all their view ; They seek not beauty , wit or sense , And love is seldom the pretence . All offer incense at my shrine , And I alone the bargain sign . How can Belinda blame her fate ? She only ask'd a great estate . Doris was rich enough , 'tis true , Her Lord must give her title too ; And ev'ry man , or rich or poor , A fortune asks , and asks no more . Av'rice , whatever shape it bears , Must still be coupled with its cares .