Chapter 2

And so my fathers pigeons in like sort, Our matchlesse hens about would euer flye, To paire with other doues they would resort, (Pray laugh not _Susan_, for it is no lye) I haue it not from other folkes relation, But from mine owne, and mothers obseruation.

_Susan_.

I laugh that you compare vs to your hens, Or straying pigions that abroad haue flowne, To seeke about for cocks of other mens, Because (you say) they wanted of their owne: But _Francke_, though you like them be francke and free, You must not iudge all other so to be.

We doe not vse to hunt abroad for cockes, But rather shun the places where they be, The prouerbe sayes, _let geese beware the fox_, Tis easie making prayes of such as we: That will not keepe them from the charmers charme Mens flatteries doe maiden-heads much harme.

_Bride_.

Flatterers are of all to be reiected, As well of wiues as you that are but maydes, We praise not faults wherewith men are infected, Nor yeeld applause to euery one perswades: Our praysing men thus vnderstand you must, Tis meant of those are honest, louing, iust.

Why there are men doe erre in what you hold, Chast batchelers that neuer meane to match, Who for the siugle life smooth tales haue told, And yet the fleshly knaues will haue a snatch: Ile ne're trust those that of themselues doe boast, The great'st presisians will deceiue you most.

I knew a prating fellow would maintaine, A married man had but two merry dayes, His wedding day the ioyfull first of twaine, For then God giue you ioy, euen all men sayes: The second merry day of married life, Is that whereon he burieth his wife.

And woemen vnto shippes he would compare, Saying as they continually lacke mending, So wiues still out of repairations are, And vrge their husbands daily vnto spending: Yea worse disgrace, he would presume to speake: Which I will spare, least I offend the weake.

But note the badnesse of this wretches life, That counted woemen abiect things forsaken, He raune away at last with's neighbours wife, Worthy of hanging were the rascall taken: Such odious actes haue such dishonest mates, that against marriage, rude and senceles prates.

But you most wilfull wenches that oppose, Against the state that you are borne to honour, A prophesie vnto you Ile disclose, And she that here doth take most nice vpon her: Pray note it well, for there is matter in it, And for to doe you good thus I beginne it.

When fish with fowle change elements together, The one forsaking aire, the other water, And they that woare the finne, to weare the feather, Remaining changelings all the worlds time after: The course of nature will be so beguilde, One maide shall get another maide with childe.

When euery Crow shall turne to be a Parret, And euery Starre out-shine the glorious Sunne, And the new water works runne white and clarret, That come to towne by way of _Islington_, Woemen and men shall quite renounce each other. And maides shall bee with childe, like _Merlins_ mother.

_Grace_.

Like _Merlins_ mother, how was that I pray, For I haue heard he was a cunning man, There lines not snch another at this day, Nor euer was, since _Brittans_ first began: Tell vs the story, and we well will minde it. Because they say, _In written bookes we finde it_.

_Bride_.

Marry this _Merlins_ mother was welsh Lady, That liued in _Carnaruan_ beautious maide, And loue of Lords and Knights shee did not way by, But set all light, and euery one denay'd: All Gentlemen, (as all you knowe be there,) That came a wooing were no wit the neere.

At length it hapned that this gallant girle, Which scorned all men that she euer saw, Holding her selfe to be a matchlesse Pearle, And such a Loadestone that could Louers draw: Grew belly-full, exceeding bigge and plumpe, Which put her Mayden-credit in a dumpe.

Time running course, and her full stomacke fed, When consumation of fewe months expired, Shee husbandlesse, a mayde was brought to bed, Of that rare _Merlin_ that the world admired: This to be honest, all her friends did doubt it, Much prittle prattle was in _Wales_ about it.

So that ere long, the strangnes of the thing, To heare that Lady _Adhan_ had a childe, Caus'd famous _Arthur_ (being Brittans King) Send for her to the Court, and reason milde: To know how this rare matter could be done, And make her finde a father for her sonne.

She told his Maiestie with sighes and teares, That keeping beautie carefull from the Sunne, Within her chamber safely shut from feares, Till _Phoebus_ horses to the West were runne: The doores fast lock'd, and she her selfe alone, Came in a gallant stranger, meere vnknowne.

Who euer came in courting manner to her, With all the louing courage could be thought: So powerfull in perswasions force to woe her, That to his will constrained she was brought: Although her heart did firme deniall vow, Yet she was forc'd to yeeld and knew not how.

So oft he came (quoth she) priuate and strange, When I shut vp my selfe in most sad humor, That I began to finde an inward change, Which brought me quickly to an outward tumor: An't please your highnes I was in such case, That to the world I durst not show my face.

My foes reioyced, all my friends were sad, My selfe in sorrow spent both day and night, No satisfaction my wrong'd honour had, Was neuer maide in such perplexed plight: To be with child whether I will or no, And for my child, no humane father know.

Had I bin married (quoth she) as I ought, And with my loue, the loue of man requited, I had not to this woefull state bin brought, In all contempt, disgracefully despighted: And tearmed strumpet by the rude vnciuill, Who say my sonne is bastard to the diuell.

Wherefore I wish Ladies of my degree, And all the rest inferiour sorts of maydes, To take a warning (for their good) by me, Yeelding affection when kind men perswades: And hate disdaine that vile accursed sin, Least they be plagu'd for pride as I haue bin.

How say you to this warning wenches now, That Lady _Adhan_ giues vnto you all, Were you not better marriage to allow, Then in a manner for a Midwife call: I thinke you were if I might iudge the cause, How say you _Susan_, speake good _Doll_ and _Grace_.

_Grace_.

This is a story that seemes very strange, And for my part, it doth me full perswade, My Mayden-head with some man to exchange, I will not liue in danger of a mayde: The world the flesh, the diuell tempts vs still, Ile haue a husband, I protest I will.

If I were sure none of you here would blabbe, I would euen tell you of a dreame most true, And if I lye, count me the veriest drabbe, That euer any of you saw or knewe: When a friend speakes in kindnes do not wrong her: For I can keepe it (for my life) no longer.

One night (I haue the day of moneth set downe) Because I will make serious matters sure, Me thought I went a iourney out of towne, And with a propper man I was made sure: As sure as death, me thought we were assured, And all things for the businesse were procured.

We did agree, and faith and troath did plight, And he gaue me, and I gaue him a Ring, To doe as _Mistris Bride_ will doe at night, And I protest me thought he did the thing: The thing we stand so much vpon he tooke, And I vpon the matter bigge did looke.

Forsooth (in sadnes,) I was bigge with childe, And had a belly, (marry God forbid,) Then fell a weeping, but he laught and smil'd, And boldly said, weele stand to what we did: Fye, fye (quoth I) who euer stands I fall, Farewell my credit, maydenhead and all.

Thus as I cry'd and wept and wrong my hands, And said deare maydes and maydenhead adue, Before my face me thought my mother stands, And question'd with me how this matter grew: With that I start awake as we are now, Yet feard my dreame had bin no dreame I vow.

I could not (for my life) tell how to take it, For I was stricken in a mightie maze, Therefore if marriage come Ile not forsake it, Tis danger to liue virgin diuers wayes, I would not in such feare againe be found, Without a husband, for a thousand pound.

_Susan_.

Is it euen so _Grace_, are you come to this, You that perswaded me from loue of late, When you knew who, sent me a Ring of his: And would haue had me bin his turtle mate, You cunningly did make me to forsake him, Because I thinke in conscience you will take him.

Ile trust your word another time againe, That can dissemble so against your heart, Wishing that I should earnestly refraine, From that which thou thy selfe embracer art: This is braue doing, I commend you _Grace_, But ile nere trust you more in such a case.

_Bride_.

I pray you here let this contention ende, (We being all of selfe same woman kind,) And each the other, with aduise befriend, Because I see some of you well enclin'd: To take good wayes, and so become good wiues, Ile teach you certaine rules to leade your liues.

You that intend the honourable life, And vvould vvith ioy liue happy in the same, Must note eight duties doe concerne a wife, To vvhich vvith all endeuour she must frame: And so in peace possesse her husbands loue, And all distast from both their hearts remooue.

The first is that she haue domestique cares, Of priuate businesse for the house vvithin, Leauing her husband vnto his affaires, Of things abroad that out of doores haue bin: By him performed as his charge to doe, Not busie-body like inclin'd thereto.

Nor intermedling as a number will, Of foolish gossips, such as doe neglect, The things which doe concerne them, and too ill, Presume in matters vnto no effect: Beyond their element, when they should looke, To what is done in Kitchin by the Cooke.

Or vnto childrens vertuous education, Or to their maides that they good huswiues be, And carefully containe a decent fashion, That nothing passe the lymmits of degree: Knowing her husbands businesse from her own, And diligent doe that, let his alone.

The second dutie of the wife is this, (Which shee in minde ought very carefull beare) To entertaine in house such friends of his, As she doth know haue husbands welcome there: Not her acquaintance without his consent, For that way Iealousie breeds discontent.

An honest woman will the scandall shun, Of that report is made of wantonnesse, And feare her credit will to ruine run, When euill speakers doe her shame expresse: And therefore from this rule a practise drawes, That the effect may cease, remoue the cause.

Th'ird dutie is, that of no proude pretence, She moue her husband to consume his meanes, With vrging him to needlesse vaine expence, Which toward the Counter, or to Ludgate leanes: For many ydle huswiues (London knowes) Haue by their pride bin husbands ouerthrowes,

A modest woman will in compasse keepe, And decently vnto her calling goe, Not diuing in the frugall purse too deepe, By making to the world a pecocke showe: Though they seeme fooles, so yeelde vnto their wiues, Some poore men doe it to haue quiet liues.

Fourth dutie is, to loue her owne house best, And be no gadding gossippe vp and downe, To heare and carry tales amongst the rest, That are the newes reporters of the towne: A modest vvomans home is her delight, Of businesse there, to haue the ouersight.

At publike playes she neuer will be knowne, And to be tauerne guest she euer hates, Shee scornes to be a streete-wife (Idle one,) Or field vvife ranging vvith her vvalking mates: She knows how wise men censure of such dames, And how with blottes they blemish their good names.

And therefore with the doue sheele rather choose, To make aboade where she hath dwelling place, Or like the snayle that shelly house doeth vse, For shelter still, such is good-huswiues case: Respecting residence where she doth loue, As those good housholders, the snayle and doue.

Fift dutie of a wife vnto her head, Is her ohedience to reforme his will, And neuer with a selfe conceit be led, That her aduise prooues good, his counsell ill: In Iudgement being singular alone, As hauing all the wit, her husband none.

She must not thinke her wisedome to be thus, (For we alasie are weakelings vnto men) What singular good thing remaines in vs, Of wife ones in a thousand, show me ten, Her stocke of wit, that hath the most (I say,) Hath scarse enough for spending euery day.

When as the husband bargaines hath to make, In things that are depending on his trade, Let not wifes boldnes, power vnto her take, As though no match were good but what she made For she that thus hath oare in husbands boate, Let her take breech, and giue him petti-coate.

Sixt dutie is, to pacific his yre, although she finde that he empatient be, For hasty words, like fuell adde to fire, And more, and more insenceth wraths degree: When she perceiues his choller in a fit, Let her forbeare, and that's a signe of wit.

Many occasions vnto men doe fall, Of aduerse crosses, woemen not conceiue, To find vs honny, they doe meete with gall, Their toyle for vs, doe their owne ioyes bereaue: Great shame it were, that we should ad their woe, That doe maintaine, and keepe, and loue vs so.

If that a hasty word sometime be spoke, Let vs not censure therefore they are foes, Say tis infirmitie that doth prouoke, Their hearts are sorry for their tongues God knowes: Since we by proofe each day and hower finde, For one harsh word, they giue ten thousand kind

The seuenth dutie that she must endeauour, Is to obserue her husbands disposition, And thereunto conforme her selfe for euer, In all obedient sort, with meeke submission: Resoluing that as his conditions are, Her rules of life she must according square.

His vertues and good parts which she doth finde, shee must endeauor for to imitate, The vices whereunto he is enclin'd, Shee must in patience beare in milde estate: So that the meekenesse of her louing carriage, May be peace-maker, of all strife in marriage.

She must not doe as foolish woemen vse, When they are met about the gossippes chat, Their absent husbands with their tongues abuse, But vtterly abhorre to offer that: Resoluing that a husbands least disgrace, Sould cause the wife to haue a blushing face.

The eight last dutie she must take vpon her, To binde all t'other seauen to be done, Is loue and chiefe regard to husbands honour, Which if at true affection it begunne: Then be he poore, or sicke, or in distresse, Shee still remaines most firme in faithfulnesse.

Best in aduersitie it will appeare, What constancy within the heart remaines, No testimonie can be found more cleare, Then friend in trouble rhat his loue explaines: For such a one we may resolue is true, That changeth not, though fortune turne from yon.

And thus faire virgins, to you all farewell, What I haue spoken doe proceede from loue, The ioyes of marriage I want art to tell, And therefore no more talke, but try and proue: With wedding rings, be wiues of credit knowne God send good husbands to you euery one.

_FINIS_.