  As Cupid, with his band of sprites, In Paphian grove set things to rights, And trimmed his bow and tipped his arrows, And taught, to play with Lesbia, sparrows, Thus Hymen said: "Your blindness makes, O Cupid, wonderful mistakes! You send me such ill-coupled folks: It grieves me, now, to give them yokes. An old chap, with his troubles laden, You bind to a light-hearted maiden; Or join incongruous minds together, To squabble for a pin or feather Until they sue for a divorce; To which the wife assents—of course." "It is your fault, and none of mine," Cupid replied. "I hearts combine: You trade in settlements and deeds, And care not for the heart that bleeds. You couple them for gold and fee; Complain of Plutus—not of me." Then Plutus added: "What can I do?— The settlement is what they spy to. Say, does Belinda blame her fate?— She only asked a great estate. Doris was rich enough, but humble: She got a title—does she grumble? All men want money—not a shoe-tie Care they for excellence or beauty. Oh all, my boys, is right enough: They got the money—hearts is stuff." |
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