A website from the Massachusetts Historical Society; founded 1791.

Back to The First Continental Congress

A dialogue, between a southern delegate and his spouse, on his return from the grand Continental Congress: A fragment, inscribed to the married ladies of America by their most sincere, and affectionate friend, and servant, Mary V.V.

Mary V.V.

20 cm x 12.3 cm

[New York?]: Printed [by James Rivington?], 1774

Page Viewing Options NOTE

prev |
| next
Jump:
overview | small | large | transcription HELP

A
DIALOGUE,
BETWEEN
A Southern Delegate,
AND
HIS SPOUSE,
ON HIS RETURN FROM
The Grand Continental Congress.
A FRAGMENT,
INSCRIBED
TO the MARRIED LADIES of America,
By their most sincere,
And affectionate Friend,
And Servant,
MARY V.V.
Printed in the Year M,DCC,LXXIV.

[Page 2 is blank.]

A DIALOGUE, &c.
--IN less than a Year,
WIFE. Mark me Sir, you'll repent of 't, as
    sure as you're there.

HUSBAND. Pray, for God's Sake, my Dear,
    be a little discreet;
As I hope to be sav'd, you'll alarm the whole
    Street;
Don't delight so in scolding yourself out of
    Breath;
To the Neighbours 'tis Sport, but to me it
    is Death.
I submit for Peace sake, to be led by the
    Nose;
Don't make the World think that we're come
    to Blows:
If once but a Crotchet in your Head you
    have got,
For your Husband's Advice, Ma'm, you care
    not a Groat.
There are many wife People, I'd have you to
    know,
Who often have ask'd it, and have follow'd
    it too:
If I speak but a Word, you rave like a Fury,
The Patience of Job, Madam, wou'dn't,
    cou'dn't endure ye:
Had I a Million of Sons, Ah! by the Lord
    Harry,
I'd advise every one of them never to marry.

WIFE. Call the Doctor! -- by this un-
    usual Palaver,
I fear thou'st been bit, you so foam and so
    slaver:
Alas! never, -- ah! -- never, elect him
    again;
This pride of Delegation, turns many a
    Brain.

HUSBAND. You mistook me, my Dear, I
    did not pretend,
Every Measure of Congress, right or wrong
    to defend;
Many Things they've left undone, they shou'd
    surely have done,
Many Things they have done, they shou'd
    have sure let alone:
The -- Suffolk -- Appro-
    bation,
-- [Horizontal lines of varying lengths; see page image.]
England-- d-m--n
-- [Horizontal lines of varying lengths; see page image.]
Nice Discussions, a wise Man will ever decline,
When his Head and his Heart are o'er heated
    with Wine:
Men, when drunk, are all Heroes, all prudent,
    all gallant;
Stark Fools, become Sages; rank Cowards,
    grow valiant:
High Matters of State should be plann'd be-
    fore Dinner;
A Saint in the Morn, is at Night oft a Sinner:
But grant their Resolves were more absurd
    than they are,
Could you really expect your meek Husband
    would dare
Oppose such a Torrent, when its very well
    known,
He dares not say to your Face, his Soul is his
own.

WIFE. God bless us, and keep us! why,
    my Dearest, till now,
I ne'er heard you so wise, or so witty, I vow;
I protest this same Congress's a very fine
    School;
A Man comes back a Chatham, who went
    there a Fool.

HUSBAND. You're afraid to hear all, but
    for once I will speak,
Wherever I am known, I am call'd Jerry
    Sneak;
I bear, for all that, with your Caprice, and
    your Tricks,
But prithee, Dear, dabble not in our Politics.

WIFE. Prithee! ha, ha, ha, Prithee! my
    Senator grave!
Sir! I'll make you repent of that Speech, to
    your Grave;
Why had'st not said, KNOW THEN, like
    the mighty Congress,
I presume you'd a Hand in that civil Ad-
    dress:
Indeed, my sweet Sir, when you treat with
    your Betters,
You should mind how you speak, and how
    you write Letters.

HUSBAND. That Horse-laugh is all feign'd,
    with much better Grace,
You know Ma'm, you cou'd hit me a Slap in
    the Face:
Consider, my Dear, you're a Woman of
    Fashion,
'Tis really indecent to be in such Passion;
Mind thy Houshold-Affairs, teach thy Chil-
    dren to read,
And never, Dear, with Politics, trouble thy
    Head.

WIFE. Good Lord! how magnanimous!
    I fear Child thou'rt drunk,
Dost thou think thyself, Deary, a Cromwel, or
    Monck?
Dost thou think that wise Nature meant thy
    shallow Pate,
To digest the important Affairs of a State?
Thou born! thou! the Machine of an Empire
    to wield?
Art thou wife in Debate? Shoud'st feel bold
    in the Field?
If thou'st Wisdom to manage Tobacco, and
    Slave,
It's as much as God ever design'd thee to
    have:
Because Men are Males, are they all Politi-
    cians?
Why then I presume they're Divines and Phy-
    sicians,
And born all with Talents every Station to fill,
Noble Proofs you've given! no doubt, of your
    Skill:
Wou'd! instead of Delegates, they'd sent De-
    legates Wives;
Heavens! we cou'dn't have bungled it so
    for our Lives!
If you had even consulted the Boys of a
    School,
Believe me, Love, you cou'd not have play'd
    so the Fool:
Wou'd it bluster, and frighten, its own poor
    dear Wife,
As the Congress does England! quite out of
    her Life?

HUSBAND. This same Congress, my Dear,
    much disturbeth thy Rest,
God and Men ask no more, than that Men do
    their best;
'Tis their Fate, not their Crimes, if they've
    little Pretence,
To your most transcendent Penetration and
    Sense;
'Tis great Pity, I grant, they had'nt ask'd the
    Advice
Of a Judge of Affairs, so profound, and so
    nice;
You're so patient, so cool, so monstrous elo-
    quent,
Next Congress, my Empress, sha't be made
    President.

WIFE. I have said it, my Dear, and I'll
    say it again,
That your famous Congress were a strange set
    of men:
To you, my dear Love, I may be sometimes
    too pert,
But then, you know well, Dear, it is but for
    a Spirt:
Tho' I do now, and then, take the Freedom,
    to glance,
At your Dreams, and your Visions, I mind the
    main Chance;
Regard your true Interest, your Health, and
    your Ease,
And am ever dispos'd, to do just, as you please;
Sometimes, to be sure, it is not quite conve-
    nient,
But since I swore t'obey, I'm always obe-
    dient;
I defy you, to say now; you can't for your
    Life,
That I'm not, at the Bottom, a very good
    Wife:
Could I see you in Prison, or hang'd, without
    Pain?
Then, pray, have not I reason enough to
    complain?

HUSBAND. Psha! for God's Sake, what
    Hazard of that do I run?

WIFE. Psha, on, but beware, Dear, that
    you are not undone;
'Twou'd soon break my Heart, tho' we do now
    and then jar,
Were you ruin'd, or taken, or killed in War.
From the Love I bear you, and our dear Girls
    and Boys,
I have examin'd this Book, that makes so
    much Noise:
Without seeing thro' Mill-stones, its soon un-
    derstood,
As sure as you are born, this will at last end
    in Blood:
A Cabal, which the high sovereign Power
    defies,
No matter whether prompted, by Truth, or by
    Lies;
No Matter for us, whether without, or with
    Reason,
In Law, they say's deem'd, little short, of High
    Treason.
Three thousand Miles distant, we may crow
    and exult,
But can you hope, any State, will bear such
    Insult.
To your high mighty Congress, the Members
    were sent,
To lay all our Complaints, before Parliament;
Usurpation rear'd its head, from that fatal Hour,
You resolv'd, you enacted, like a sovereign
    Pow'r.
Acts, tho' not enjoin'd, on Pain of Gibbets,
    and Flames,
Disobey'd, at the Price, of our Fortunes, and
    Fames.
Your Non-Imports, and Exports, are full
    fraught with Ruin,
Of thousands, and thousands, the utter Un-
    doing:
While, without daring to bite, you're shewing
    your Teeth,
You've contriv'd to starve, all the poor People
    to death.
Into all that's most sacred, you've made mad
    Inroad,
Morocco itself, wou'd be asham'd, of your Code.
Pretty Sovereigns, in truth! God help us,
    what Things!
To make deep Politicians, or Statesmen, or
    Kings?
If Philadelphia or York, propos'd some wise
    Plan,
From that very Moment, you all branded the
    Man
-- of Sense and of Honour -- derive
-- Carpenters-Hall-- alive
-- murder or rob
-- Pieces-- Mob.
Instead of imploring, their Justice, or Pity,
You treat Parliament, like a Pack, of Banditti:
Instead of Addresses, fram'd on Truth, and on
    Reason,
They breathe nothing, but Insult, Rebellion,
    and Treason;
Instead of attempting, our Interests to further,
You bring down, on our Heads, Perdition, and
    Murder.
When I think how these Things must infalli-
    bly end,
I am distracted with Fear, and my Hair stands
    an end.

HUSBAND. Youv'e been, heating your Brain,
    With Romances, and Plays,
Such Rant, and Bombast, I never heard in my
    Days.

WIFE. Were your new-fangled Doctrines,
    as modest, and true,
'Twou'd be well for yourselves, and this poor
    Country too:

But supposing Great-Britain, quite out, of the
    Case,
And you all should be sav'd, by some high Act,
    of Grace;
Lets return to ourselves, if you've Eyes, you
    will see
Your Association, big with rank Tyranny.
Its hardly worth ones while, to show Indig-
    nation

At that foolish Bugbear, your Non-Impor-
    tation;
For Men do so hunger, and so thirst, after Pelf,
That when thousands are starv'd, 'twill blow
    up, of itself.
You have read a great deal, -- with patient
    Reflection,
Consider one Moment, your Courts of In-
    spection:
Could the Inquisition, Venice, Rome, or Ja-
    pan,
Have devised, so horrid, so wicked a Plan?
In all the Records, of the most slavish Nation,
You'll not find an Instance, of such Usurpa-
    tion.
If Spirits infernal, for dire Vengeance de-
    sign'd,
Had been nam'd Delegates, to afflict Human
    kind,
And in Grand Continental Congress, had re-
    solv'd,
" Let the Bonds of social Bliss, be from
    henceforth dissolved,"
They could not have plann'd, with more ex-
    quisite Skill,
Nor have found, a tame Race, more submiss to
    their Will.
Let Fools, Pedants, and Husbands, continue to
    hate
The Advice of us Women, and call it all
    Prate:
Whilst you are in Danger, by your good
    Leave, my Dear,
Both by Night and by Day, I will ring in
    your Ear --
Make your Peace: -- Fear the King: -- The
    Parliament fear.

Oh! my Country! remember, that a Wo-
    man unknown,
Cry'd aloud, -- like Cassandra, in Oracular
    Tone,
Repent! or you are forever, forever undone.


FINIS.