The Choice of Three Lovers

The choice of three lovers I have to be sure, One is rich, one is handsome, and one very poor; This is old—this is young—the other half way; One is wise, one is witty, and one is yea nay.

Love lives not with poverty, oft I've been told, Nor can it with age, tho' surrounded with gold; The handsome and witty are each fond of self, So I'll neither chuse poverty, beauty, nor pelf.

But give me the man who is blest with good sense, The raptures of life are still flowing from thence, Tho' plain in his person, not rich, nor yet poor, I'll give him my hand, still to love and adore.

I'll dress me in smiles, and good-humour each day, Or grieve, when he grieves, and be gay, when he's gay; With the fondest affection attend him thro' life, And prove by example what is a good wife.