Believ'd too soon, was undeceiv'd too late;
So hair-brain'd Fools to _Indian_ Climates rove,
With a vain hope their Fortunes to improve;
There spend their slender Cargoes, then become
Worse Slaves abroad than e'er they were at home
When a few Weeks were wasted I compar'd,
With all due moderation and regard,
My former freedom, with my new restraint,
Judging which State afforded most content.
But found a single Life as calm and gay,
As the delightful Month of blooming _May_,
Not chill'd with Cold, or scorch'd with too much heat. }
Not plagu'd with flying Dust, nor drown'd with wet, }
But pleasing to the Eyes, and to the Nostrils sweet. }

But Wedlock's like the blustring Month of _March_,
That does the Body's Maims and Bruises search,
Brings by cold nipping Storms unwelcom Pains,
And finds, or breeds, Distempers in our Veins;
Renews old Sores, and hastens on Decay,
And seldom does afford one pleasant Day.
But Clouds dissolve, or raging Tempest blow,
And untile Houses, like the wrangling Shrow;
Thus _March_ and Marriage justly may be said, }
To be alike, then sure the Man is Mad, }
That loves such changling Weather where the best is bad. }

Though I once happy in a single Life,
Yet Shipwrack'd all upon that Rock a Wife.
By Gold and Beauties Powerful Charms betray'd,