A Man to My Mind

Since wedlock's in vogue, and stale virgins despis'd,
To all batchelors greeting, these lines are premis'd;
I'm a maid that would marry, but where shall I find
(I wish not for fortune) a man to my mind?

Not the fair-weather fop, fond of fashion and lace;
Not the 'squire, that can wake to no joys but the chace;
Not the free-thinking rake, whom no morals can bind:
Neither this—that—nor t'other's the man to my mind.

Not the ruby-faced sot, that topes world without end;
Not the drone, that can't relish his bottle and friend;
Not the fool, that's too fond; nor the churl that's unkind:
Neither this—that—nor t'other's the man to my mind.

Not the wretch with full bags, without breeding or merit;
Not the Flash, that's all fury without any spirit;
Not the fine master Fribble, the scorn of mankind!
Neither this—that—nor t'other's the man to my mind.

But the youth in whom merit and sense may conspire,
Whom the brave must esteem, and the fair should admire;
In whose heart love and truth are with honour combin'd:
This—this—and no other's the man to my mind.