He Imploreth Mercy upon those condemned with fashionable folly to

Now heaven in mercy be kind to the wretch,

Who marries for money or fashion or folly;

He'd better accept of the noose of Jack Ketch

Than such a “help-meet;” or at once marry Dolly

The cook, or with Bridget, the maid of the broom;

With one he'd be sure to get coffee and meat,

And never hear whining of nothing to eat,

And‘ t other would make up his bed and his room;

And if he was blest with a child now and then,

As happens sometimes with your fashionable wives,

Who're coupled to bipeds, in nature called men,

He'd need no insurance to warrant their lives;

And need no expense of a grand “bridal tour,”

Or visit each season at “watering places,”

Where fashion at people well known to be poor,

In money or station, will make ugly faces;

Where women, though married, with roues will flirt;

Where widows, though widows in fresh sable weeds,

Spread nets that entangle like old Nessus’ shirt

And finish with Burdell and Cunningham deeds;

Where daughters when fading are taken to spend

A month at the springs, or a week in salt water;

Where bachelors flirting on Ellen attend,

Are whispered by mamma, “engaged to my daughter.”