Part 3

Sixthly, the old experiment of the Midsummer smock found out in a much better method than before, by my sublime and painful study in philosophy. And now, my daughters, said she, it is thus: Let seven of you go together on Midsummer Eve, just at sunset, into a silent grove, and gather every one of you a sprig of red sage, and return into a private room, with a stool in the middle; each one having a clean smock, turned wrong side outwards, hanging on a line cross the room, and let every one lay their sprig of red sage in a clean bason of rose water, set on the stool; which done place yourselves on a row, and continue till twelve or one, saying nothing, be it what you will you see; for after midnight each one's sweetheart or husband that shall be, will take each maids sprig out of the rose water, and sprinkle his love's shift; and those who are so unfortunate, as never to be married, their sprigs will not be moved, but in lieu of that, sobs and sighs will be heard. This has been often try'd and it never failed of its effects.

These things I have found out of late, To make young lovers fortunate.

And now, my dear daughters, I have but a word or two more to say at the present, and that by way of caution.

In the twelvemonths I find about thirty-one days unlucky; so as you tender your own happiness, take care you marry not on those days, and for your better instruction I will set down those days for you.

In January are four, the 7th, 14th, 17th, and 18th.

In February two, the 5th and 10th.

In March three, the 9th, 19th, and 21st.

In April two, the 6th and 7th.

In May two, the 4th and 13th.

In June three, the 7th, 9th, and 10th.

In July two, the 6th and 7th.

In August two, the 11th and 16th.

In September three, the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th.

In October three, the 4th, 14th, and 15th.

In November two, the 15th and 24th.

In December three, the 6th, 8th, and 9th.

Observe my Rules of all these days, And then you will your Fortunes raise.

This said, old Mother Bunch gave them a cup of her cordial water, and so dismiss'd them, the young Damsels returning her hearty thanks for her motherly advice.

After Mother Bunch had dined, the young men came, as Tom the Miller, Ralph the Thatcher, and Robin the Ploughman, with a great many of other trades and callings, whom Mother Bunch invited to sit down, that so she might the better deliver her salutary counsel to them.

And first, she begins with Tom the Miller, saying, Ah, Tom, thou art a sad fellow, there's not a maid comes to the mill but you will be bobbing under their aprons; but take my word for it, if you don't leave off, you'll be ruined. What woman will have such a one? She may justly conclude, you will be caterwauling still. You know what I mean Tom. Yes, yes, mother, but sure you don't take me for such a one. Yes Tom, I do, and I am but seldom mistaken; 'tis you millers that fill the country with crack'd maidenheads, that the honest husbandman already finds the ground till'd up. But farewell, I will have nothing to do with such as you.

Then turning to Ralph the Thatcher, she said, I find you are desirous of a wife, and your ambition is such, she must be rich, young and beautiful. So you can't be content with honest Joan, to whom you promis'd marriage, but must change her for a finikin madam; but I can tell you she won't stand picking of straws with you; her fair face will find her many friends in a corner; and so you may chance to be a cuckold, and indeed but justly served in your kind; and therefore I pray you to return to your old lover, for she is an honest girl, and therefore far more fit for you than such a butterfly as you have lately followed.

Then she stretched forth her hand to Robin the Plowman, saying, Thou art an honest fellow, and good luck will attend thee; I don't mean bags of gold nor heaps of silver, but thou shalt have an industrious wife, one who will be willing to labour, a true and faithful yokemate, who will be a chearful partner in thy weal or woe, to support thee under thy troubles, as the Poet has it,

The Burden may be borne by two, with care, Which is, perhaps, too much for one to bear.

Honest Robin this is thy fortune, and as thou art a downright man, I'm glad to find it so.

Thus Mother Bunch went round the room And told them what would be their doom If they her daughters did betray, And steal their maidenheads away, Each should be punished with a bride, By whom they should be hornify'd, But if they were right honest men They should have happy fortunes then.

This said she did her blessing give, In love and happiness to live; Which when they did the same receive, Of Mother Bunch they took their leave, Declaring she had told them more Than e'er they understood before.

FINIS.

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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES.

1. Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors. 2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.