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A group of people sitting in a semicircle in a room, with an ornamental plaque inscribed with verse below. A handwritten note on the recto side of this leaf describes the notable features of the copy and mentions this figure as an extremely rare print of the Newcastle family by Clouet.

Thus in this Semy-Circle, where they Sitte

Telling of Tales of pleasure & of witt

Heer you may read without a Sinn or Crime

And how more innocently pass your tyme.

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Natures
Pictures
Drawn by
Fancies
Pencil
to the Life.

Written by the thrice Noble, Illustrious, and Excellent
Princess, the Lady Marchioness of
Newcastle
.

In this Volume there are several feigned Stories of
Natural Descriptions, as Comical, Tragical, and
Tragi-Comical, Poetical, Romancical, Philosophical,
and Historical, both in Prose and Verse, some all
Verse, some all Prose, some mixt, partly Prose, and
partly Verse. Also, there are some Morals, and
some Dialogues; but they are as the Advantage
Loaves of Bread to a Bakers dozen; and a true
Story at the latter end, wherein there is no Feignings.

London,
Printed for J. Martin, and J. Allestrye, at
the Bell in Saint Paul’s Church-yard. 16561656.

a2v

The Dedication.

To Pastime I do dedicate this Book,

When idle, then my Readers in’t may look,

And yet be idle still; yet wish they may

Never misspend their time, or wast the day

Worse or more idly; since it may concern

My Readers all, in every piece to learn

Something to lay up still in mem’ries Treasure;

Thus for your sakes mix Profit with your Pleasure.

I hope you’ll like it, if not, I’m still the same,

Careless, since Truth will vindicate my Fame.

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To the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle,
on her Book of Tales.

Gallants and Ladies, what do ye lack? pray buy

Tales a la mode, new Fashion’d here do lye:

So do Romancies, your grave studies too,

Academies of Love, teaching to woo

And to be woo’d, corrupts more Virgins then

Hot Satyrs turn’d to Amorous Courtly Men:

But these are innocent; then be not nice,

Will you not buy, because they teach not Vice?

Nature will teach you that; then do not look

To do’t by Art and Learning by the Book;

A Vestal Nun may reade this, and avow it,

And a Carthusian Confessor allow it.

Yet they are pleasant, but on this side harm,

Witty expressions, yet no wanton charm,

But virtuous Love, bright shining as the Sun,

As innocent as Turtles, Vice to shun.

What do you lack? for here’s the Shop of Wit

With new spun finer Phancies, for to fit

Your curious Brains: do you lack Prose or Verse?

Which, when you want discourse, you may rehearse,

And gossip too with Pleasure and Delight,

So for to wast a tedious Winters night.

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’Twixt every Tale’s Act, for your Musick, think

Of melting Sweet-meats, dissolv’d Wine your drink;

Unbrasing your Drums ears a while to stay,

Whil’st on your Tongues-strings tast doth sweetly play:

Then to the pleasure of your Tales again,

Thus feast your Senses; when they’re wearied, then

To your soft Beds, Sleep seize you with delight,

So Noble Friends, I bid you all good night.

W.William Newcastle.

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A Copy of Verses to the Lady Marchioness of
Newcastle
, of all her Works, which are
now all printed, except her Tragedies and Comedies,
which will shortly come out.

You various Readers various judgements give,

And think Books are condemn’d, or ought to
live

According to your censures, bad or good,

Before you read them, or they’re understood,

Laying aspersions with a jeering brand;

But read them first, that is, to understand

On forfeit of your selves, like this that’s writ,

Or prejudice your judgements and your wit.

Now for your own sakes, these Books like them then,

Have mercy on your selves you censuring Men;

For when you’re dead, and all your envious looks,

These Writings they will live as long as Books.

O but a Woman writes them, she doth strive

T’intrench too much on Man’s Prerogative;

Then that’s the crime her learned Fame pulls down;

If you be Scholars, she’s too of the Gown:

Therefore be civil to her, think it fit

She should not be condemn’d, ’cause she’s a Wit.

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If you be Souldiers, Ladies you’ll defend,

And your sheath’d Arguments, when drawn, will end

The small male Gossipings: but Gallants, pray

Be not you factious, though each Mistris say

The Books are naught, but dance, & with them play,

Sweet pretty Ladies, and discourse with those

Of Ribbins, point de Jane, and finer Cloaths,

Their better reading, and let Books alone;

But these I will compare to every one

That here doth follow. Nay, old Homer writ

purer Not clearer Phancies, nor with clearer Wit;

And that Philosophy she doth dispense,

Beyond old Aristotle’s hard non-sense;

Her observations of Diseases new,

More than Hippocrates the Grecian knew;

As eloquent as Roman Cicero,

And sweeter flowers of Rhet’rick there do grow;

More lofty high descriptions she hath still

Than swell’d lines of th’Imitator Virgil;

As good Odes too as Horace, nay, I can

Compare her Dialogues to rare Lucian.

Lucan, the Battail of thy Civil War

Is lost, this Lady doth exceed thee far;

More Fame by Morals than grave Plutarch gain’d,

Profitable Fables, as Esop feign’d;

And as good Language as ev’r Terence writ,

Thy Comedies, poor Plautus, far less wit.

Thy rare Epistles all Epistles sully,

Beyond the two Familiars of vain Tully;

And as wise Sentences thou still dost say

As the Apocrypha, or Seneca;

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As smooth and gentle Verse as Ovid writ,

And may compare with sweet Tibullus wit.

What takes the Soul more than a gentle vain?

Thou charm’st the charming Orpheus with thy strain.

If all these Wits were prais’d for several wayes,

What deserv’st thou that hast them all? what praise?

W.William Newcastle.

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To the Reader.

The design of these my feigned
Stories is to present Virtue, the
Muses leading her, and the Graces
attending her.

Likewise, to defend Innocency, to help the
distressed, and lament the unfortunate.

Also, to shew that Vice is seldome crown’d
with good Fortune; and in these Designs or
Pieces I have described many sorts of Passions,
Humours, Behaviours, Actions, Accidents,
Misfortunes, Governments, Laws, Customes,
Peace, Wars, Climates, Situations, Arts and
Sciences: but these Pieces are not limb’d alike,
for some are done with Oil colours of Poetry,
others in Watry colours of Prose, some upon
dark grounds of Tragedy, and some upon light
grounds of Comedy. But the work of either is
rough, being not done by a skilfull hand, so not
so smooth as I could wish; yet I hope the proportions,
exceed not their Symmetry, but that every
part is made proportionable to the whole,
and the whole to the distance of your view, and
that the Colours are neither mis-matcht, nor the
Shadows misplaced.

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An Epistle
To my Readers.

Perchance my feigned Stories are
not so lively described as they
might have been, for that my
descriptions are not so lively
exprest by the pen, as Sir Anthony Vandick
his Pictures by the pencill, by reason I
have not copied them from true I meane true
Originall from
immediat
action.
Originalls,
but just as phancy formes; for I have
not read much History to inform me of the
past Ages, indeed I dare not examin the
former times, for fear I should meet with
such of my Sex, that have out-done all the
glory I can aime at, or hope to attaine; for
I confess my Ambition is restless, and not
ordinary; because it would have an extraordinary
fame: And since all heroick
Actions, publick Imployments, powerfull
Governments, and eloquent Pleadings
are denyed our Sex in this age, or at
least would be condemned for want of
custome, is the cause I write so much, for
my ambition being restless, though rather
busie than industrious, yet it hath
made that little wit I have to run upon c every c1v
every subject I can think of, or is fit for
me to write on; for after I have put out
one Book more that I am writing, I cannot
tell what more to write, unless I
should write of the like subjects again,
which would be as tedious as endless.

M.Margaret Newcastle.

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To the Reader.

As for those Tales
I name Romancicall,
I would not
have my Readers
think I write them,
either to please,
or to make foolish
whining Lovers,
for it is a humor of
all humors, I have an aversion to; but
my endeavour is to express the sweetness
of Vertue, and the Graces, and to
dress and adorn them in the best expressions
I can, as being one of their
servants, that do unfeignedly, unweariedly,
industriously, and faithfully
wait upon them: Neither do I know
the rule or method of Romancy Writing;
for I never read a Romancy Book
throughout in all my life, I mean such as
I take to be Romances, wherein little
is writ which ought to be practised,
but rather shunned as foolish Amorosities,
and desperate Follies, not noble Loves discreetc2 screet c2v
Vertues, and true Valour. The most
I ever read of Romances was but part of
three Books, as the three parts of one, and
the half of the two others, otherwise I
never read any; unless as I might by
chance, as when I see a Book, not knowing
of what it treats, I may take and read some
half a dozen lines, where perceiving it a
Romance, straight throw it from me, as an
unprofitable study, which neither instructs,
directs, nor delights me: And if
I thought those Tales I call my Romancicall
Tales, should or could neither benefit
the life, nor delight the minde of my
Readers, no more than those pieces of
Romances I read, did me, I would never
suffer them to be printed; but self-partiality
perswades me otherwise, but if they
should not, I desire those that have my
book to pull out those tales and burn them:
Likewise if I could think that any of my
writings should create Amorous thoughts
in idle brains, I would make blotts insteed
of letters; but I hope this work of mine
will rather quench Amorous passions, than
inflame them, and beget chast Thoughts,
nourish love of Vertue, kindle humane
Pitty, warme Charity, increase Civillity,
strengthen fainting patience, encourage noble
Industry, crown , Merit, instruct Life;
and recreate Time, Also I hope, it will damn c3r
damn vices, kill follies, prevent Errors,
forwarne youth, and arme the life against
misfortunes: Likewise to admonish, instruct,
direct, and perswade to that which
is good and best, and in so doing, I the
Authoress have my wishes and reward.

M.Margaret Newcastle.

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To the Reader.

I Must intreat my Readers to
understand, that though my
Naturall Genius is to write
fancy, yet in this Work, I
have strove, as much as I can,
to lay fancy by in some out-corner of my
brain, for lively descriptions to take place;
for descriptions are to imitate, and fancy to
create; for fancy is not an imitation of nature,
but a naturall Creation, which I take
to be the true Poetry: so that there is as
much difference between fancy, and imitation
tion as between a Creature, and a Creator:
but some Poeticall tales or discourses, both
in verse and prose; but most in prose, hath
crowded in amongst the rest, I cannot say
against my will, although my will was
forced by my Naturall Inclinations and affections
to fancy, but otherwise I have
endeavoured to describe, and imitate the
severall Actions of life, and changes of fortune,
as well as my little Wit, weak observations,
and lesse learning can compose into c4r
into severall discourses; Also I am to let
my Readers to understand, that though
my work is of Comicall, Tragicall, Poeticall,
Philosophicall, Romancicall, Historicall
and Morall discourses, yet I could
not place them so exactly into severall
Books, or parts as I would, but am forced
to mix them one amongst another, but my
Readers will find them in the volume, if
they please to take notice of them, if not
there is no harme done to my Book, nor
me the Authoress.

M.Margaret Newcastle.

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To my Readers.

Although I hope every piece
or discourse in my Book will
delight my Readers, or at
least some one, and some
another, according as they
shall agree and simpathize with their humors,
dispositions and fancies, yet I do recommend
two as the most solid and edifying,
which are named, The Anchoret,
and the Experienced Traveller, but especially
the she Anchoret, they are the
last of my feigned stories in my Book.

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To My Readers.

I Must intreat my
Readers to take
notice, that in this
first Book or part
of this volume, I
was forced to order
my severall
Chapters, as Musicians
doe their
tunes, when they play upon Musicall Instruments,
who for the most part do
mix light Aires, with solemn Sounds: and
by reason I thought this first part of my
Book would be too short, if I did divide
them, I have mixed them altogether, and
although in my opinion I have disadvantaged
it very much with imitating Musicians,
yet I could not conveniently avoid
it, for the reason aforesaid, although the
light Aires and solemn Tunes, which are
the Comicall & Tragicall discourse mixt
together, will so disunite the thoughts and
disturb the passions, as my Readers will
hardly fix their minds seriously on either,
for my Readers will be like one that is intreatedtreated, c5v
or rather pull’d by two Companions,
one to accompanie him to a house of
Mourning, the other to a house of Mirth,
or rather to a shop of toyes, in which posture,
he can neither condole with the unfortunate,
nor mourn with the afflicted,
nor rejoyce with the happy, nor chat with
the idle, and so may grow angry with
them both, and fling them by as troublesome:
the like may my Readers with my
discourse; also I must tell my Readers, I
do not strive as many do, to put the choice
pieces in the first place, to invite or rather
to entice the Readers to read their following
works, but endeavor to place my
works properly and not subtilly.

Likewise, I have not endeavoured so
much for the eloquence, and elegancy of
speech, as the naturall and most usuall way
of speaking, in severall Discourses, and ordinary
Phrases; but perchance my Readers
will say, or or at least think I have dressed
the severall subjects of my Discourses
too vulgar, or that the Garments, which is
the language, is thread-bare: ’tis true, they
are not drest up in constraint fashions,
which are set phrases, nor tied up with
hard words, nor bumbast sentences, but
though they are carelesly, yet they are
not loosely drest: but for fear my Reader
should not take notice, I must repeat once c6r
once again to put them in remembrance
that most of my discourses or Tales, are
naturall Descriptions & not Fancies; also I
must tell my Readers, if they meet any
words in my discourse, that belongs to any
other Language, pray let them not perswade
you I understand their native Originall,
but pray remember, or if you do
not know, inquire of Linguists, and they
will inform you, that English is a compounded
Language, as mithredated of many
ingredients, or it is like a Cordiall water,
whose spirits are extracted from many
severall simples; so, if I speak the English
that is spoken in this age, I must use such
words as belongs to other Nations, being
mixed therein, unless I should speak the
English that was spoken in former Ages, as
that they call old English, of which I am almost
as ignorant as of other Languages: I
would not have written this, but that I am
condemned as a dissembler, for saying I do
not understand any Language but English,
which is my native Language, and the
only reason is I use such words, as are mixed
therein; but in this as in all things else,
I am a Speaker of Truth, that is, I never
say any thing for a Truth, that is false, and
I am so great a lover of Truth, as I am one
of her order, and have taken the habit of
sincerity, in which I will live and dye.

M.Margaret Newcastle.

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Her Excellencies Comical Tales in Prose.

The first Part.

The strict Associate.

There was a Gentleman came to a Lady with a
Message from his Lord, which was to tell her
his Lord would come and visit her.
“Sir”, said she, “is your Lord a Poet?”
“No, Lady”, said he.
Said she, “then he hath no Divine Soul.”
“Is he a Philosopher”, said she?
“No, Madam”, said he.
“Then”, said she, “he hath no Rational Soul.” “Is he an Historian”, said she?
“Neither”, said he.
“Then”, said she, “he hath no Learned Soul”.
“Is he an antient Man”, said she?
“No, Lady”, said he.
“Then he hath no Experienced Soul.”
“Is he an Orator”, said she?
“No, Lady”, said he.
“Then he hath no Eloquent Soul.”

“And if he hath neither Poetical Wit, Philosophical Wisdome,
Studious Learning, Experienced Knowledge, nor Eloquent Language,
he cannot be conversible; and if he be not conversible,
his Visit can neither be profitable nor pleasant, but troublesome
and tedious; therefore I shall intreat your Lord by the return of
my Answer, that he will spare his pains, and my pain, in giving
me a Visit.”

“But”, said the man, “though my Lord is neither a Poet, a Philosopher,
an Historian, Orator, or Aged, yet he is a young beautiful
Man, which is more acceptable to a fair Lady.”

“Sir”, said she, “Youth and Beauty appears worse in Men, than Age
and Deformity in Women, wherefore”
, said she, “if it were in my d power, d1v
power, I would make a Law that all young Men should be kept
to their Studies, so long as their Effeminate Beauty doth last;
and old Women should be put into Cloysters, when their Youth
and Beauty is past: but”
, said she, “the custome of the World is
otherwise, for old Women and young Men appear most to the
publick view in the World, when young Women and aged Men
often retire from it.”

The Judgement.

There were two Gentlemen that had travelled both into
England and France, and meeting another Gentleman, he
asked one of them which he liked best, England or
France.

The other said, he liked both well where they were like worthy,
and disliked them both in things that were not worthy of praise.

Said he to the second Gentleman; “and which like you best?”

“Which do you mean,” said the second, “the Countryes or Kingdomes?”

“Why, what difference is there betwixt saying a Country, and a
Kingdome”
, said he?

“Great difference”, said the other; “for to say a Country is such a
circumference of earth, and to say a Kingdome is to say such a
Countrey manured, inhabited, or rather populated with Men that
dwell in Cities, Towns, and Villages, that are governed by Laws,
either Natural or Artificial.”

“Well, which Kingdome do you like best”, said the other?

“Truly”, said the second, “I cannot give a good judgement, unless
I had travelled through every part in both Kingdomes, and
had taken strict surveys of their Forts, Havens, Woods, Plains,
Hills, Dales, Meadows, Pastures, Errable; also, their Architectures,
as Cities, Towns, Villages, Palaces, Churches, Theaters;
also, their Laws, Customes, and Ceremonies, their Commodities,
Trafficks, and Transportations, their Climates and Situations,
and the several humours of the several People in each
Kingdome, which will not onely require a solid judgement, and
a clear understanding, but a long life to judge thereon.”

“But”, said the other, “judge of as much as you have seen.”

“To judge of parts”, answered the other, “is not to judge of the
whole: but to judge of as much as I have seen: I will compare or
similize those parts of those two Kingdomes to two Ladies, whose
faces I have onely seen, their bodies and constitutions unknown;
the one hath a larger and fairer forehead than the other, and a more
sanguine complexion, the other hath better eyes, eye brows, and
mouth, So France is a broader & plainer Countrey, and the climat
is more cleer and somewhat hotter than England, and England
hath better Sea-ports, Havens, and navigable Rivers, than France hath; d2r
hath also the one hath a more haughty look or countenance than
the other; and the other a more pleasing and modest countenance;
So France appeares more majesticall; and England more amiable.”

The Vulgar fights.

A young Gentleman, that had a good naturall wit, had a
desire to travell, but first, he would visit Every Province
in his own Countrey before he went into forraign
Kingdoms, preferring the knowledge of his own native
soyl, before theirs, wherein he was neither born, nor meant to
dwell: so he went to the chief Metropolitan City, where he did
intend to stay some time, for there he might inform himself
best of the severall Trades, Trafficks, Imposts, Lawes, Customes,
Offices, and the like: so when he was come to the City,
he sent his man to seek him out some Lodgings in some private
house, because Innes are both troublesome, and not so convenient,
besides more chargeable: so his man had not gone far, but
he saw a bill over a Tradesmans doore to let passengers know
there were Lodgings to be let; the Mistris sitting at the door, he
asked her if he might see their Lodgings that were to be let?

She answered no, she would first see them that were to take
them; “but” said she, “who is it that would take them?”

Said he, “my Master?.

“Hath he a Wife”, said she?

“Why aske you that”, said he?

“Because” said she, “I will not let my lodgings to any man that
brings a wife, for women to women are troublesome guests, when
men are very acceptable, and I thank the Gods”
, said she, “I am not so
poor as I care for the profit, but for company & conversation, for
to have no other company but my husband is very dull and melancholy.”

Said the man, “my Master hath no wife.”

“Is he a young man”, said she?

“Yes”, said he.

“Is he a handsome man”, said she?

“Yes”, said he;

“Then” said she, “my lodging is at his service;”

“At what rate are they”, said he?

Said she, “Your Master and I shall not fall out about the price.”

So he returned to his Master and told him, he had found not
onely lodgings, but as he thought, a fair bedfellow to accompany
him, for the Mistris would make no bargain but with himself.

So thither he went, where he found all things accommodated
for his use; and his Landlady, who was a handsome Woman, and
her husband a plain man, bid him very welcome, then taking their
leave left him to himself; after which the good man seldome troubled
him; but his wife was so officious; as he seldom mist of her d2 Company, d2v
Company, and so wondrous kinde as might be, making him white
wine Caudles for his breakfast, and giving him very often collations;
besides, if he stayed out, she would send her husband to bed
but she would wait for his coming home, for which Kindness
he would return her Courtly Civillities: but he went often abroad
to view the City, and to see the course of the People, and the severall
passages therein; And one day as he went through a large
street, a Coach-man and Car-man fell out for the right side of the
way, the Car-man said he was loaded, and therefore would not
give way; the Coach-man said, it was not fit for a Coach to give
way to a cart, and therefore he should give way; so after words
follow blowes, and their whips were there mettled blades, which
they fought withall, with which they lashed one another soundly.

The Gentleman seeing them lashing one another so cruelly
spake to his man to part the fray; “introth Master”, said the man, “if
I shall go about to part all foolish frayes, or but one in a City, I
may chance to go home with a broken pate, and get no reputation
for the losse of my blood;”
so they went to the market place, and
there were two women which had fallen out about their Marchandize,
and their fight was much fiercer than the Coach-man and
Carters, and their words more inveterated, and their nailes more
wounding than their whips, in so much as they had scratched each
other so as the blood trickled down their faces, whereupon the
Gentleman being of a pitifull nature, commanded his man to part
them; said the man, “I will adventure on the effeminate Sex; for I
believe I can pacify them, at least make my party good”
, so he
went and spoke to them to forbear each other, but their eares were
stopt with the sound of their scolding tongues; but when he went
to part them, it did so enrage their fury, as they left fighting
with each other, and fell upon him, where to help himself he was
forced to fight with them both, at last it grew to be a very
hot battle, first off went his hat, then down fell his Cloake, he
thrust them from him, they prest upon him, he cuft them, they
laid on blows on him, they tore his band, he tore their kerchers,
they pull’d his haire, he pull’d there Petticoats, they scratcht his
face, he beat their fingers, he kickt them, they spurned him, at last
with strugling they all three fell in the kennell, and so close they
fought, as those three bodyes seemed but one body, and that moved
as a Whale on a shallow shore, which wants water to swim, even
so they lay waving and rolling in the kennell; in this time a number
of people were gathered about them to see them fight, for it is the
nature of common people to view combats, but part none; They
will make frayes, but not friends, but the people inveterated their
spleenes, and inflamed their collars with their shooting noises
which they made, but the Gentleman that was concerned for his
man, desired the people to part them, but they cried out, “let them
fight, let them fight”
; and they that had so much good nature
as to offer to pull them asunder, the rest did hinder: them at last
the Constable came, and did cause them all three to be put
into the Stockes, whereas the man was placed betwixt the two d3r
two Women, which almost made deafe both his eares, for
though their leggs were fast, their tongues were loose, with which
they rung him such a scolding peal, as made his head dizzye; but
he without speaking one word sate in a most lamentable posture,
with his clothes all rent and torne, his face all scratcht and bloody,
and that haire they left on his head all snarled and rougled, and
stood an end, as if he were affrighted; but at last his Master by bribing
the Constable, got his man out of the stocks, and gave the
Constable so much more to keep the women shakled a longer time;
but when they saw the man let loose, and they still fast, were
stark madd; but the man was so dogged, that he would not speak
to his Master, because it was by his command he came into that
effeminat quarrell; but his master to pacify him, and to reward
him for his obedience, gave him new clothes, and all things suteable,
and money to be friends again, and though the money did
quallify his passion, yet he was wonderfull angry for the disgrace
(as he thought it) to be beaten by women, and prayed his Master
to give him leave to depart from him, that he might retire to some
meaner mans service, where he might hide his dishonor; his Master
told him he thought he never had much Honour to loose, neither
would any trouble their thoughts, and burthen their memory
with such foolish quarrells; “but howsoever”, said his master, “if
you be a man of Honour, as you imagine your self, you should
glory in this combat; for Honorable and gallant men will not refuse
to graspe with the effeminate Sex, but take it as an honour to
receive blows from them; a rent band is their victory, a scatched
face there trophy; & their scolding speech is their Chariot wherein
they ride in triumph;”
“Heaven”, said the man “deliver me from that
Honour, for I had rather graspe a fury of Hell, than an angry woman;”
So home they went, and when they came to their lodging,
they found the man and his wife together by the eares; the man
cursing, the wife scolding, and there wares in their shop flung about:
For they had hurled all they could lay hold on at each others
head; whereat the Master and the man stood at the doore not daring
to enter the house, for fear they should partake of the quarrell.
At last said the man to his master “Sir”, said he, “now you may
have those honorable victories, as trophyes, and triumphs you
spake of, if you will endeavour to part them;”
his Master answered,
that one man was enough for one woman; and two would be too
much: said the man, “I answer that I found two women too much
for one man, and I dare lay a wager our Land-lady wil be too hard
for our Land-lord;”
he had no sooner spoke, but the wife had broke
her husbands head with a measure that lay by, which as soone as
she had done, she run into her Kitchin, and shut the door to secure
herself, making it her Castle of defence, to which her husband
followed with threatning language, then bounced & beat against the
door to break it open, but she had not only barred and lockt it, but
had set all the potts, panns and spitts against it, as a baracadoe to
make it strong but at last the Gentleman went to his Land lord &
perswaded him to be friends with his wife, at first he would not hear d3 him; d3v
him; but at last when he found he could not get in, and that his
furie was wasted with the many assaults against the doore, he was
contented to have a parley: then there was a truce agreed upon for
two hours, in which time the Gentleman had managed the quarrell
so well, as he made them friends, for the wife was contented to be
friends with her husband, for the Gentlemans sake, and the husband
for quiets sake, and the man was contented to stay with his
Master, when he saw he was not the only man, that was beaten by
women; but triumphed that the Land-lord was beaten by one,
when he had two against him, &c.

The
d4r

The Tobacconist.

There were two maides talking of Husbands, for that for
the most part is the theame of their discourse, and the
subject of their thoughts;

Said the one to the other, “I would not marry a man
that takes Tobacco for any thing.”

Said the second, “then it is likely you will have a fool for your
husband, for Tobacco is able to make a fool a wise man: for though
it doth not always work to wise effects, by reason some fools are
beyond all improvement, yet it never failes where any improvement
is to be made.”

“Why”, said the first, “how doth it worke such wise effects?”

Said the second, “it composes the mind, it busies the thoughts,
it attracts all outward objects to the mindes view, it settles and retents
the senses; it cleeres the understanding; strengthens the
Judgement, spyes out Errors; it evaporates Follyes, it heates
Ambition, it comforts sorrow, it abates passions, it excites to
Noble actions; it digests conceptions, it inlarges knowledge, it
elevates imaginations, it creates phancies, it quickens wit, and it
makes reason Pleader, and truth Judge in all disputes or Controversies
betwixt Right and Wrong.”

Said the first, “it makes the breath stinke.”

Said the second, “you mistake, it will make a stinking breath
sweet.”

“It is a beastly smell”, said the first.

Said the second, “Civet is a beastly smell, and that you will thrust
your nose to, although it be an excrement, and for any thing we
know, so is Amber-Greece, when Tobacco is a sweet and pleasant,
wholesom and medicinable hearb.”

d4v
B1r 1

Her Excellencies Tales in Verse.

The first Book.

Readers, I find the Works which I have wrote,

Are not so bad, as you can find much fault;

For if you could, I doubt you would not spare

Me in your censures, but their faults declare;

For I perceive the World is evil bent,

Judging the worst, although it good was meant;

And if a word to wantonness could wrest,

They’ll be so pleas’d, and often at it jest;

When every foolish tongue can with words play,

And turn good sense, with words, an evil way:

But at my Writings let them do their worst,

And for their pains with Ignorance be curst.

In Winter cold, a Company was met

Both Men and Women by the Fire set;

At last they did agree to pass the time,

That every one should tell a Tale in Rhime.

The Women said, they could no Number keep,

Or could they run on smooth and even Feet.

“Why,” said the Men, “all Womens Tongues are free

To speak both out of time, and nonsensly”

And drawing lots, the chance fell on a Man,

When he had spit and blow’d his Nose, began:

B Of B1v 2

Of the faithfull Widow, or mournfull Wife.

I travelling, it was my chance to see

A little House hard by a Tombe to be;

My curiosity made me inquire

Who dwelt therein; to further my desire,

I knocked at the door, at last came one,

Which told me ’twas a Lady liv’d alone:

I pray’d that I the Lady might but see,

She told me she did shun all Company.

By her discourse the Lady had been Wife,

But being a Widow, liv’d a lonely life.

I told her, I did travel all about,

If I could finde a Constant Woman out.

She told me, if the World had any where

A Constant Woman, sure she dwelled there.

I stayed there, in hopes my chance might be,

Some wayes or other, this Lady to see;

And lying underneath a Tombe at night,

At Curfue time, this Lady with a Light

Came forth the House, all clothed in white,

And to the Tombe her walk she bended right;

With a majestick grace she walk’d along,

She seem’d to be both beautifull and young;

And when she came, she kneeled down to pray,

And thus unto her self did softly say.

“Give leave, you Gods, this loss for to lament,

Give my soul leave to seek which wayes his went;

O let my spirits with his run a Race,

Not to out-go, but to get next in place.

Amongst the Sons of Men raise up his Fame,

Let not foul Envy Canker-fret the same;

And whil’st, great Gods, I in the World do live,

Grant I may Honour to my Husband give;

O grant that all fond love away may fly,

But let my Heart amongst his Ashes lye:

Here do I sacrifice each vainer dress,

And idle words my ignorant youth express.

Here, Dear, I cancel all Self-love, and make

A Bond thy loving Memory to take,

And B2r 3

And in my soul alwayes adore the same,

My Thoughts shall build up Altars to thy name;

Thy Image in my Heart shall fixed be,

My Tears from thence shall Copies take of thee;

And on my Cheeks those Tears as Pictures plac’t,

Or like thy Carved Statue, ne’r shall waste;

Thy praise my words, though Air, shall paint so deep,

By Repetition, shall for ever keep.”

With that, Tears from her Eyes in showers did flow.

Then I rose up, to her my self did shew.

She seem’d not to be moved at my sight,

Because her Grief was far above her Fright.

Said I, “weep, weep no more, thou Beauteous Saint,

Nor over these dull Ashes make complaint;

They feel not thy warm Tears which liquid flow,

Nor thy deep Sighs, which from thy Heart do go;

They hear thee not, nor thank thee for thy love,

Nor yet his Soul that’s with the Gods above:

Take comfort, Saint, since Life will not return,

And bury not your Joyes within this Urn.”

She Answered.

“I have no Joyes, in him they did reside,

They fled away when that his Body dy’d;

Not that my Love unto his Shape was ty’d,

But to his Virtues which did in him bide.

He had a Generosity beyond all merit,

A Noble Fortitude possest his spirit;

Foreseeing Prudence, which his Life did guide,

And temperate Thoughts did in his Soul abide;

His speech was sweet, and gentle to the ear,

Delight sate close, as listning for to hear

His Counsel wise, and all his Actions good;

His Truth and Honesty as Judges stood

For to direct, and give his Actions law;

His Piety to Gods was full of awe.

Wherefore return, your Counsels are in vain,

For I must grieve whil’st I in th’world remain;

For I have sacrific’d all my Delights

Upon my Noble Husbands Grave, and slights

All Vanities, which Women young do prize,

Though they intangle them, as webs do Flyes.”

B2 Lady, B2v 4

“Lady,” said I, “you being young and fair,

By Pleasures to the World invited are,

Yet bury all your Youth and Beauty here,

When like the Sun, may to all eyes appear.”

“O Sir,” said she, “the Sun that gave me light,

Death hath eclips’d, and taken from my sight;

In Melancholy Shades my Soul doth lye,

And grieves my Body will not quickly dye;

My Spirits long to wander in the Air,

Hoping to finde its loving Partner there:

Though Fates decree my life for to prolong,

No power hath my Constant Minde to turn.”

But when I did perceive no Rhetorick could

Perswade her to take Comfort, grieve she would:

Then did I take my leave to go away,

With adoration thus to her did say.

“Farewell you Angel of a Heavenly Breed,

For sure thou com’st not from a Mortal Seed;

Thou art so constant unto Virtue, fair,

Which very few of either Sexes are.”

And after in short time I heard she dy’d,

Her Tombe was built close by her Husbands side:

After the Man, a Woman did begin

To tell her Tale, and thus she entered in.

A Description of diverted grief.

A man that had a young and a fair Wife,

Whose Virtue was unspotted all her life;

Her words were smooth which from her tongue did slide,

All her Discourse was wittily apply’d;

Her Actions modest, her Behaviour so,

As when she mov’d, the Graces seem’d to go.

Whatever ill she chanc’d to hear or see,

Yet still her Thoughts as pure as Angels be.

Her Husbands love seem’d such, as no delight

Nor joy could take out of his dear Wives sight.

It chanc’d this virtuous Wife fell sick to death,

Thus to her Husband spake with dying breath,

“Farewell, my dearest Husband, dye I must,

Yet do not you forget me in the Dust,

Because B3r 5

Because my spirit would grieve, if it should see

Another in my room thy Love to be;

My Ghost would mourn, lament, that never dyes,

Though Bodies do pure Loves eternalize.”

“You Gods,” said he, “that order Death and Life,

O strike me dead, unless you spare my Wife.

If your Decree is fix’d, nor alter’d can,

But she must dye, O miserable man!

Here do I vow, great Gods all witness be,

That I will have no other Wife but thee;

No friendship will I make, converse with none,

But live an Anchoret my self alone;

Thy spirits sweet my thoughts shall entertain,

And in my minde thy Memory remain.”

“Farewell,” said she, “for now my soul’s at peace,

And all the blessings of the Gods increase

Upon thy Soul, yet wish you would not give

Away that Love I had whil’st I did live.”

Turning her head; as if to sleep she lay,

In a soft sigh her Spirits flew away.

When she was dead, great Mourning he did make,

Would neither eat, nor drink, nor rest could take,

Kissing her cold pale lips, her cheeks, each eye,

Cursing his Fates he lives, and may not dye.

Tears fell so fast, as if his Sorrows meant

To lay her in a watry Monument.

But when her Corps was laid upon the Hearse,

No tongue can tell, nor his great grief express.

Thus did he pass his time a week or two,

In sad complaints, and melancholy wo;

At last he was perswaded for to take

Some Air abroad, ev’n for his own healths sake.

But first, unto the Grave he went to pray,

Kissing that Earth wherein her Body lay.

After a month or two, his Grief to ease,

Some Recreations seeks himself to please;

And calling for his Horses, and his Hounds,

He means to hunt upon the Champain grounds:

By these pastimes his thoughts diverted are,

Goes by the Grave, and never drops a Tear.

At last he chanc’d a Company to meet

Of Virgins young, and fresh as Flowers sweet;

B3 Their B3v 6

Their Clothing fine, their Humours pleasant gay,

And with each other they did sport and play:

Giving his Eyes a liberty to view,

With interchanging looks in Love he grew.

One Maid among the rest, most fair and young,

Who had a ready wit, and pleasant tongue,

He courtship made to her, he did address,

Cast off his Mourning, Love for to express;

Rich Clothes he made, and wondrous fine they were,

He barb’d, and curl’d, and powder’d sweet his Hair;

Rich Gifts unto his Mistris did present,

And every day to visit her he went.

They like each one so well, they both agree

That in all haste they straight must married be.

To Church they went, for joy the Bels did ring,

When married were, he home the Bride did bring;

But when he married was some half a year,

Then Curtain lectures from his Wife did hear;

And whatso’er he did, she did dislike,

And all his kindness she with scorns did slight,

Cross every word she would that he did say,

Seem’d very sick, complaining every day

Unless she went abroad, then she would be

In humour good, in other Company.

Then he would sigh, and call into his minde

His dear dead Wife that was so wondrous kinde;

He jealous grew, and was so discontent,

Soon of his later Marriage did repent;

With Melancholy Thoughts fell sick and dy’d;

His Wife soon after was anothers Bride.

When she had done, the Men aloud did cry,

Said, she had quit her Tale most spitefully.

Another Man, to answer what she told,

Began to tell, and did his Tale unfold.

The Effeminate Description.

A man a walking did a Lady spy;

To her he went, and when he came hard by;

“Fair Lady,” said he, “why walk you alone?”

“Because,” said she, “my Thoughts are then my own;

For B4r 7

For in a company my Thoughts do throng,

And follow every foolish babbling Tongue.”

“Your Thoughts,” said he, “were boldness for to ask.”

“To tell,” said she, “it were too great a task:”

“But yet to satisfie your Minde,” said she,

“I’le tell you how our Thoughts run commonly.

Sometimes they mount up to the Heavens high,

Then straight fall down, and on the Earth will lye;

Then circling runs to compass all they may,

And then sometimes they all in heaps do stay;

At other times they run from place to place,

As if they had each other in a Chace;

Sometimes they run as Phansie doth them guide,

And then they swim as in a flowing Tide:

But if the Minde be discontent, they flow

Against the Tide, their Motion’s dull and slow.”

Said he,

“I travel now to satisfie my minde,

Whether I can a Constant Woman finde.”

“O Sir,” said she, “it’s Labour without end,

We cannot Constant be to any Friend;

We seem to love to death, but ’tis not so,

Because our Passions moveth to and fro;

They are not fix’d, but do run all about;

Every new Object thrusts the former out:

Yet we are fond, and for a time so kinde,

As nothing in the World should change our minde:

But if Misfortune come, we weary grow,

Then former Fondness we away straight throw;

Although the Object alter not, yet may

Time alter our fond Minds another way;

We love, and like, and hate, and cry,

Without a Cause, or Reason why.

Wherefore go back, for you shall never finde

Any Woman to have a Constant Minde;

The best that is shall hold out for a time,

Wavering like Winde, which Women hold no Crime.”

A Woman said, “this Tale I will requite,

To vindicate our Sex, which you did slight.”

A B4v 8

A man in love was with a Lady fair,

And for her sake would curl, perfume his Hair;

Professions thousands unto her did make,

And swore for her a Pilgrimage would take.

“I swear,” said he, “Truth shall for me be bound,

Constant to be, whil’st Life in me is found.”

With all his Rivals he would quarrels make,

In Duels fought he often for her sake.

It chanc’d this Lady sick was, like to dye

Of the small Pox, Beauties great Enemy.

When she was well, her Beauty decay’d quite,

He did forsake her, and her Friendship slight;

Excuses makes, her cannot often see,

Then asketh leave a Traveller to be.

And thus, poor Lady, when her Beauty’s gone,

Without her Lover she may sit alone.

Then was the third Mans turn his Tale to tell,

Which to his Company he fitted well.

A Description of Constancy.

There was a Noble Man that had a Wife,

Young, Fair, and Virtuous, yet so short a life;

For after she had married been a year,

A Daughter born, which Daughter cost her dear:

No sooner born, the Mother laid in Bed,

Before her Lord could come, his Wife was dead;

Where at the sight he did not tear his Hair,

Nor beat his Breast, nor sigh, nor shed a Tear;

Nor buried her in state, as many do,

And with that Funeral Charge a new Wife wo:

But silently he laid her in a Tombe,

Where by her side he meant to have a Room;

For by no other side he meant to lye,

But as in Life, in Death keep Company

The whil’st he of his Daughter care did take,

And fond he was ev’n for his dear Wifes sake:

But Grief upon his spirits had got hold

Consum’d him more than Age that makes Men old;

His Flesh did waste, his Manly Strength grew weak;

His Face grew pale, and faintly did he speak;

As C1r 9

As most that in a deep Consumption are,

When Hective Feavers with Life makes a war;

And though he joy’d he had not long to live,

Yet for to leave his Daughter young did grieve;

For he no Kindred had to take a care

Of his young Child, and Strangers he did fear

They would neglect their Charge, not see her bred

According to her birth when he was dead,

Or rob her of her wealth, or else would sell

Her to a Husband which might use her ill,

Or else by Servants brib’d, might her betray

With some mean Man, and so might run away.

These thoughts of his his minde did much torment,

And her ill fortunes did his thoughts present.

At last he did conclude, if any be

True, Just, and full of Generosity,

’Twas such as like were to the Gods on high,

As powerfull Princes and dread Majestie.

The Kingdomes King was dead, but left to reign

His widowed Queen, who prudent did maintain

The Government, though forreign Wars she had,

Which was a Charge and oft-times made her sad.

This Noble Man sent to the Queen to crave

That she upon his Child would pity have,

To take her to the Court, there to be bred,

That none might wrong her after he was dead.

The Queen most willingly his suit did sign,

And so in peace his Soul he did resign.

This Lady young did to the Court repair,

Where she was bred with tender love and care;

And Youth that’s bred in Courts may wisest be,

Because they more do hear, and more do see

Than other Children, that are bred obscure,

Because the Senses are best Tutors sure.

But Nature in this Maid had done her part,

And in her frame had shew’d her curious Art,

Compos’d her every way, Body and Minde,

Of best Extracts that were to form Mankinde;

All which she gave to Time for to distill,

And of the subtil’st Spirits the Soul to fill

With Reason, Wit, and Judgement, and to take

The solid’st part the Body for to make.

C For C1v 10

For though that Nature all her works shapes out,

Yet Time doth give strength, length and breadth about.

And as her Person grew in stature tall,

And that her Beauty did increase withall,

So did Affection in her Heart grow high,

Which there was planted in her Infancy.

There was a subject Prince within the Land,

Although but young, the Army did command;

He being chose for Birth, Wealth, Valour, Wit,

And Prudence for to leade and martial it,

The whil’st his Father did the Queen assist

To manage State-affairs, as knowing best

The Kingdomes Constitutions, and Natures bad

Of Common People, who are sometimes mad,

And wildly in distempers ruins brings,

For most Rebellions from the Commons springs.

But he so just and loyally did serve

His Queen and Country, as he did preserve

Himself within her Favour, and her Love,

As great Respect, and honour’d Praise did prove;

And in the Wars his Son such Fame did get,

As in her Chariot he triumphant sate:

For he was Valiant, and of Nature free,

Courteous, and full of Generosity;

His Wit was quick, yet so as to delight,

Not for to cross, or in Disputes to fight;

For gallant Sword-men that do fight in War,

Do never use their Tongues to make a jar.

He was exact in Body and in Minde,

For no defects in either could you finde.

The Queen, that had a Neece both young and fair,

Did strive to match her to this Prince and Heir

Of all his Father’s Wealth, who had such store,

As all the Nobles else did seem but poor;

And the young Princess lik’d so well the choyce,

As thoughts of marrying him did her rejoyce;

And through her Eyes such Messages Love sent,

On smiling Rayes, and posting Glances went.

The other Lady hearing the Report,

For every one did talk of it in Court;

Besides, she saw his Person still attend

Upon the Princess, and did Presents send;

And C2r 11

And every day to visit her did go,

As being commanded by his Father so.

At which she sad and melancholy grew,

Yet her Disease not thorowly she knew.

Like as a Plant that from the Earth doth spring,

Sprouts high, before a blown Flower doth bring:

So did her Love in bud obscurely lye,

Not any one as yet did it descry,

Nor did the Prince the least affection finde,

She being reserv’d in action, and in minde.

Sober she was, and of a bashfull look,

Of but few words, but great observance took;

By which observ’d, for Love hath a quick Eye,

And often by the Countenance doth spye

The hidden Thoughts, that the Tongue dare not tell,

For in the Minde obscurity doth dwell:

But yet she did espy something lay cross

To his desires, but guess’d not what it was:

But griev’d that any thing should him displease;

For those that love, do wish their Lov’d much ease;

Nay so much ease, as torments would endure,

If their Love benefit receive could sure.

But she grew restless, and her Thoughts did run

About him, as about the World the Sun;

For he was her World, and wish’d her Love

Had influence, as Planets from above,

To order his affections, and to bring

From several Causes one Effect to spring;

And the Effect, that he might love her so

As love her best, or at least he might know

How well she lov’d him, for she wish’d no more

Then love for love, as Saints which do adore

The Gods in Heaven, which love so pure,

Can nothing of the drossy flesh endure

At last she and her Thoughts in Counsel sate,

What best was to be done of this or that;

And they did all agree her Love to own,

Since innocent and pure, to make it known

By her Epistles, and her Pen, to write

What her pure heart did dictate and indite;

No forfeit of her Modesty, because

She had no ends, but onely Virtuous Laws.

C2 Then C2v 12

Then took she Pen and Paper, and her wit

Did tell her Love the truth, and thus she writ.

Sir, you may wonder much that I do send

This Letter, which by Love doth recommend

It self and suit unto your judging ear,

And that it was not stopt by bashfull fear.

But let me tell you, this pure Love of mine

Is built on virtue, not on base design;

It hath no dross, nor high ambitions spire,

The flame is made by emaculate fire,

Which to the Altar of your merits bring,

From whence the flame to Heaven high may spring.

Your glorious Fame within my Heart, though young,

Did plant a Slip of Honour, from whence sprung

Pure Love, and Chast Desire, for I do crave

Onely within your Heart a place to have.

I do not plead, hoping to be your Wife,

Nor ’twixt you and your Mistris to breed strife;

Or wish I that her Love you should forsake.

Or unto me a Courtly Friendship make;

But onely when I’m dead, you would inshrine

Within your Memory this Love of mine;

Which Love to all the World I may proclaim

Without a blush, or check, or spotted fame.

’Tis not your Person I do so admire,

Nor yet your Wealth, or Titles I desire;

But your Heroick Soul, and Generous Minde,

Your Affability, and Nature kinde;

Your honest Heart, where Justice still doth reign,

Your prudent Thoughts, and a well temper’d Brain;

Your helping Hand, and your industrious Life,

Not to make broyls, but to decide all strife;

And to advance all those are in distress,

To help the weak, and those are powerless;

For which my Heart and Life to Love is bound,

And every thought of you with Honour crown’d.

These are not feigning Lines that here I write,

But Truths as clear and pure as Heavens light;

Nor is it Impudence to let you know,

Love of your Virtues in my Soul doth grow.

Her Love thus innocent she did enrole,

Which was the pure Platonick of her Soul;

Though C3r 13

Though in black Characters the Envious may

Call the sense clear, as is the mornings day,

And every word appear unto the sight,

To make her smoother Paper yet more white.

Thus she infolded Honour, and more Truth,

Than ever yet was known in female youth.

Blush colour’d Silk her Letter then did binde,

For to express how modest was her Minde;

And Virgins Wax did close it with her Seal,

Yet did that Letter all her Love reveal.

Then to her Nurses Husband she did trust,

These loving Lines, knowing him faithfull, just:

To all her Family, obey’d her will,

And would do so, I doubt, though t’had been ill:

For his Obedience never ask’d the cause,

Nor was he Casuist in Divine Laws,

But faithfull and most trusty: so was sent,

With this most sacred Letter, then he went.

In the mean time that she her Letter sent,

The Prince to her a Letter did present

By a Servant, in whom he put much trust,

As finding him both dextrous, prudent, just

In all imployments; he this Letter brought,

Which ’mongst this Ladies thoughts much wonder wrought;

Even so much, as she could not believe,

But thought he did mistake, and did conceive

She was the Princess. Whereupon, said she,

I doubt this Letter was not writ to me.

But he confirm’d to her that it was writ:

Then to her Closet went, and open’d it;

With trembling hands the Waxen Seal she broke,

And what he writ, with a faint voyce thus spoke.

Fairest of your Sex, for so you are

Unto all others as a Blazing Star,

Which shews it self, and to the World appears

As a great Wonder, once in many years;

And never comes, but doth portend on Earth

Either the fall of Princes, or their Birth.

O let your influence onely at me aim,

Not for to work my overthrow or fame,

But Love, to make me happy all my life;

Then yeild your self to be my Virtuous Wife:

C3 But C3v 14

But if you (this request) to me deny,

The Gods, I hope, will grant me soon to dye.

But when she this had read, was in a daze,

As senslesly did on the Letter gaze,

By which her Spirits discomposed were,

In quarrelling disputes, ’twixt Hope and Fear:

At last Hope got the better; then did they

Triumph with joy, and in her Heart did play.

For when the Spirits mutually agree,

Both in the Eye and Heart they dancing be.

Then to the Gentleman that came, she went,

And told him civilly that she had sent

Unto the Prince, and that she could not fit

So well an Answer to return as yet.

The Prince as melancholy sate alone,

But all the while his Mistris thought upon;

Staid for the Messenger’s return, for he,

Till Answer came, refus’d all Company.

At last one of his Pages to him came, than,

Told him without there was an antient Man,

That would not be deny’d, for speak he must

Unto the Prince, or else must break his trust

He was in charge with, and rather than so,

Would venture life before he back would go,

And not his Message to the Prince to tell.

Whereat the Prince, liking his Courage well,

Sent for him, who came with humility,

The Letter gave upon his bended Knee.

The Prince the Letter read, and pleased so,

As by his smiling Countenance did shew;

Which made all cloudy thoughts disperse, and clears

His minde, as in dark dayes when Sun appears.

“Sure,” said the Prince, “the Gods our Loves decree,

And in our Unions they do all agree;

They joyn our Hearts in one, our Souls so mix,

As if eternally in Heaven would fix.”

Then soon he all delayes for to prevent,

Another Letter writ, which to her sent

In answer of her own; this Letter gave

Unto her Foster Nurse, who was as grave

As old bald Father Time, of Courage stout,

A rustick plainness, and not eas’ly out

Of C4r 15

Of countenance, ready to be imploy’d,

And in his Ladies service would have dy’d:

The Prince commended his fidelity,

And pleas’d he was at his blunt quality:

But with the Letter quickly did return,

For he, though old, yet every step did run;

And then the Letter which the Prince had sent,

He to his Lady did in mirth present.

But she the Letter broke with joyfull speed,

And to her Foster-Nurse she did it read.

Sweetest, you have exprest your Love to me

With so much plainness and sincerity;

And yet your stile severely have you writ,

And rul’d your Lines with a Commanding Wit;

Heroick Flourishes your Pen doth draw

Or executes as in a Martial Law:

Then solemnly doth march in mourning trail,

And melancholy words all hopes do vail.

As golden dust on written lines strewn were,

Your written Lines seem sprinkled with a Tear;

As by the heart of passion spread about,

For fear that Cruelty should blot it out.

But let me tell you, that my love is such

As never Lover loved half so much;

And with so fervent Zeal, and purest Flame,

Nay something above Love, that wants a name;

For to express it, like to Gods on high,

For who can comprehend a Deity?

And though I honour all your Sex, yet I,

Having another Mistris, I deny,

Besides your self; and though I do obey

To visit the fair Princess, nothing say

Concerning Love, nor yet professions make,

As common Lovers, promise for her sake

Wonders, and yet my Life to her will give

To do her service: but whil’st I do live,

My Heart and Soul is yours, and when I dye,

Still will my Soul keep yours in company;

Though by Honour my active life is bound

Unto your Sex, you onely will be found

Within my Heart, and onely Love to be,

From whence my Brain doth Copies take of thee;

On C4v 16

On which my Soul doth view with much delight,

Because the Soul sees not with vulgar sight.

For Souls do see, not as the Senses do:

But as transparent Glass, the Minds quite through;

Or rather, as the Gods see all that’s past,

Present, or what’s to come, or the World vast,

Or what can be, to them is known,

And so are Souls to one another shewn;

And if our Souls do equally agree,

Our Thoughts and Passions to each known will be.

But after this Letter they both did get

An opportunity, by which they met:

No complemental wooing they did use,

True Love all flattering words it doth refuse.

But they agreed, and both did think it fit,

Their love to hide, not to discover it.

At last the Queen and Father did agree,

The Prince and Princess straight should married be;

Nor made a question, for they doubted not

But Youth and Beauty had each other shot

With amorous Loves. But when the Prince made known

How that his Heart was now none of his own,

His Father seem’d with trouble discontent:

But the inraged Queen, with malice bent,

Did strive all wayes she could for to disgrace

The sweet young Lady, oft disprais’d her face;

Her Person, Dress, Behaviour, and her Wit,

And for to match with such a Prince not fit.

The Princes Love so firm, no words could break,

Impatiently did hear, but little speak:

But when the Princess heard the Prince to be

A Lover to another Lady, then did she

Tear, rail, and rave, as if she frantick were,

And of her Rival words she would not spare.

One day a Company of Nobles met,

And in a Room they were together set;

The Prince and his fair Mistris she did spy,

And often at them cast a spightfull eye.

At last her Malice set awork her Tongue,

And at the Prince she evil words out flung;

Which he receiv’d with a submissive face,

Turning those scorns as favours of her grace.

But D1r 17

But when she had with scorns his patience tried

She, for to vent her spleen, in passion cried;

Some of the company there jesting by,

The other Lady ask’d if she would cry;

She answer made, she had not the like cause

Nor had she broke the modest civill Laws;

But if her passion had misled her tongue,

She should have wept to water, or else flung

Her self to dust, for want of moisture die,

Unless her life could issue through her eye.

But when the Prince perceiv’d such storms to rise,

And showring tears to fall from beauteous eyes

He did absent himself, and shun’d to be

A trouble to the Princes company:

But when the Queen had tried all means she could

To alter his affections, nothing would;

She then their Marriage strove for to prevent,

And to the Army she the Prince soon sent;

Then order gave not to return again,

But with the Army there for to remain.

He to his Mistris went, his leave to take,

Perswading her a journey she would make

Unto the Army, and there to agree,

When that they meet, straight married for to be;

At last she did resolve to leave the Court,

And privately her self for to transport

Her Person to the Prince where he was gone

For ne’r till then she found her self alone;

When the Army began for to retire

To winter-quarters, he did there desire

His Mistris company, and then did write

To those he had intrusted, how they might

Convey her safely; but by some mistake

The Queen did intercept, his Letter take,

Which when she read, all in a rage she grew

And then his Letter into fire threw.

When she her Neice had told, they both did strive,

And both in Councill sate, for to contrive

To hinder her wish’d meeting; wherefore they

Did think it best, the Lady to convey

Unto some private place, and then give out

That she was dead, which soon was spred about,

D And D1v 18

And every one in censuring spent some breath,

And most did judge she died a violent death.

But the Queens anger only would destroy

Their loves, because her Neice she should enjoy

The Prince, on whom her heart in love was set,

And us’d all means she could, his Love to get:

And though at first they thought the Prince might mourn,

Yet when his grief had been, by time; out-worn,

He then might take the Princess for his Wife,

Concealing the young Lady all her life;

And though they did not murther her, yet they

Did strive to grieve, and cross her every way;

Wherefore they did agree that some should tell

Her, that the Prince in Battell fell.

But her report of death, spread far and near,

At last it came unto the Prince his ear;

The news strook him so hard, as it did make

His strength grow weak, and manly limb, to shake,

But when his strength return’d, his mind sad grew,

And from all company himself withdrew;

No Orders he would give, but left the care

Of all the Army to an Officer.

From the Army without the Queens consent

He did return, and to his Father went,

And told him he all worldly things did wave,

Had buri’d them all in his Mistris Grave,

And the remainder of his daies would spend

In holy devotion, his Praiers would send

Unto the Gods, “and my dear Saint,” said he,

“Will be a Mediator there for me.”

His Father did disswade him all he could,

But all in vain, a Hermit be he would;

Instead of Palaces he chose a Cell,

Left Courts and Camps, did solitary dwell;

Instead of Clothes that rich and costly were,

He wore a Garment made of Camells hair,

Instead of Arms, a Hermits Habit took,

And for a Sword, he us’d a Praier book

Instead of treading Measures in a dance,

And wanton eyes that oft would side-waies glance;

His knees upon hard stone did bowing bend,

And his sad eyes unto the Earth descend;

Instead D2r 19

Insteed of flattering words to tempt Maids fair,

No words did speak but what were us’d in Praier,

All wild and wandering Thoughts were now compos’d,

And the dead object of his Mistris clos’d,

Like Multitudes that gather in a Ring

To view some curious or some wondrous thing;

Or like a devout Congregation met

Will strive about the Altar neer to set;

So did his Thoughts neer her Idea get,

Where, as a Goddess, in his Soul did set;

Then he an Altar built of Marble white,

Which waxen Tapers round about did light;

Her Picture on this Altar plac’d was high,

As to be seen with an up-lifted eye.

She was his Saint, and he there every day

Did offer Tears, and Sighs, to her did pray,

And her implore, she would the Gods request

To take his Soul, his Body lay to rest.

In the mean time, his Mistris made believe

That he was kill’d, for which she much did grieve;

For when she at the first the news did heare,

Her face turn’d pale, like death it did appear.

Then gently sinking, she fell to the ground,

Grief seiz’d her heart and put her in a swound;

At last, life got the better, and then wept,

And wisht to Heaven that she in death had slept;

But Melancholy her whole Soul possest,

And of all pleasing Thoughts it self divest;

All Objects shun’s that Pleasing were and fair,

And all such sounds as were of a light Air,

The splendrous Light and glorious Sun shut out,

And all her Chamber hung with black about,

No other light but blinking Lamps would have,

And Earth and Turf therein, like to a Grave;

The which she often view’d, or sate close by,

Imagining the Prince therein did lye,

And on that Grave her tears, like showrs of rain,

Keep fresh the Turfe, on the green grasse remain

As pearled dew before the Sun doth rise,

Or as refreshing showers from cloudy Skyes;

And often this supposed Grave doth dresse

With such significant flow’rs as did expresse

D2 His D2v 20

His Virtues and his Disposition sweet,

More than those Flowers when in Posies meet.

His various Virtues known to all so well,

More fragrant than those Flowers were for smell,

But first she set a Laurel Garland green,

To shew that he a Victor once had been;

cyprese And in the midst a copiousINTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that substJoin is unmatched. Branch did place,

For to express he dyed in the chase

Of his fierce enemies; his Courage was so true,

That, after a long fight, away they flew.

Thus melancholly past her time away,

Besides sad solemn Musick twice a day;

For every Sense with melancholly fill’d,

And alwaies dropping tears from thence distill’d,

With which her melancholly Soul did feed,

And melancholly thoughts her mind did breed;

Then on the ground her head aside-waies hung,

Would ly along whilst these sad songs were song.

These songes following
are my Lord marquiss

A Song.

Titan banish all thy joyes of light,

Turning thy glorious Rays, to darker Night,

Cloathing my Chamber with sad black, each part,

Thus sutable unto my mournfull heart;

Only a dimm wax Taper there shall wait

On me, to shew my sad unhappy fate.

With mournfull thoughts my head shall furnisht be,

And all my breath sad sighs, for love of thee;

My groans to sadder notes be set with skill,

And sung in tears, and melancholly still;

Languishing Musick to fill up each voice

With palsied trembling strings, is all my choice.

A Song.

Since he is gone, oh then salt tears

Drownd both mine Eyes and stop mine Ears

With grief; my grief it is so much,

It locks my Smell up, Taste, and Touch:

In me remain but little breath,

Which quickly take away, oh Death.

A D3r 21

A Song.

Why should I live, but who doth know

The way to him, or where to go?

Death’s ignorant, the dead they have

No sence of grief, when in the Grave:

Forgetfull and unthankfull Death,

Hast thou no love, when stopps the Breath,

No Gratitude, but there dost lye

In dark oblivion for to dye?

No sence of Love, or Honour, there!

Then Death I prethee me forbear,

Thousands of years in sorrow, I

Would live in Grief, and never dye.

A Song.

My Bed of Sorrow’s made, since no relief

And all my Pillows shall be stuff’d with Grief,

My Winding Sheets are those wheron I lye

My Curtains drawn with sad Melancholly.

Watching shall be my Food, Weeping my Drink,

Sighing my Breath, and Groaning what I think,

Trembling and shaking all my Exercise,

Disquiet and disorder’d Thoughts now rise.

Wringing of hands, with folded arms lamenting

Is all the joy is left me of contenting,

For he is gone, that was my joy, my life,

Left me his Widdow, though was ne’r his Wife.

But all the while the Queen was angry bent

Against the Prince, because away he went,

And left the Army without a General,

For which she Rebell Traitor him did call;

But she another General did make,

Which of the Army he a charge did take;

Yet his success in Warrs proved but bad,

For afterward the Queen great losses had,

D3 And D3v 22

And all the Souldiers they were discontent;

Whereat the Queen another General sent,

But he no better Fortune More could meet,

The Enemy did force him to retreat;

Then did the Enemy so pow’rful grow,

The Forces of the Queen they overthrow

In every Fight and Skirmish which they had;

For which the Queen and Kingdome all grew sad;

At last the Queen the Prince did flatter, and

Intreated him again for to Command,

But he deny’d the Queen, would not obey,

Said, earthly Power to Gods they must give way:

At last she sent him word she would not spare

His life, and therefore bid him to prepare

Himself for death, for dye he should

For Disobedience, and Revenge she would

Have on him; Then his Father to him went

For to perswade him, and there did present

Show’rs of tears, from sorrow pouring fell

Upon his only Son his greif to tell:

For round about his Neck one Arm did wind,

The other arm embrac’d his Body kind,

His Cheeks his Sonn did joyn to his,

And often he his Lipps did kiss.

“O pitty me my Sonn, and thy life spare,

Thou art my onely Child, and onely Heir,

Th’ art my sole Joy, in thee I pleasure take,

And wish to live but onely for thy sake.”

The Prince his Father answer’d and said he,

“I am not worth those tears you shed for me,

But why do you thus weep and thus lament

For my death now? When to the Warrs I went

You did encourage me to fight in field

For Victory, or else my life to yield;

I willingly obey’d, and joy’d to finde

My Father Sympathy unto my minde;

Besides it shew’d a greater love to me

Than Parents selfe-lov’d fondness us’d to be,

For to preferr my Honour and my Fame

Before the perpetuity of your Name.

And as you priz’d my Honour and Renown,

So do a Heavenly ’fore an Earthly Crown,

And D4r 23

And give me leave the better choice to make;

To quit all troubles, and sweet Peace to take;

I nere shall part more willingly, nor fitter be

For Heaven, and the Gods pure company.

For had I di’d in Wars, my soul had been

Stained With blood, and spotted o’re with sin:

But now my Mistris, is a Saint in Heaven,

Hath intercession made, my sins forgiven,

And since shee’s gone, all Joyes with her are fled,

And I shall never happy be till dead;

She was my souls delight, in her I view’d

The pure and Celestial beatitude.

But were I sure the soul that never dies,

Should never meet, nor Bodies never rise

By Resurrection, yet sure those were blest

That past this life, and in the Grave do rest.”

Then said the Duke, his Father, to his Son,

“What ever comes Son, Heavens will be done,

But since you are resolv’d, and needs will dye,

I, in the Grave, will keep you company.”

The young Prince said, “I cannot you disswade,

Since none are happy but those Death hath made.”

The day of execution drawing nigh

Of the young Prince, his Father too would dye.

Then the young Prince askt leave, and leave he had,

That he like to a Souldier might be clad,

When he was brought to dye, and on that day

Death he did meet in Souldierly Array;

Instead of mourning garments, he had on

A sute of Buff, embroidered thick upon

And a rich Scarfe that was of watchet dye,

Set thick with Pearls, instead of strings to tie

It close together were Diamonds so

As like a Ring or Garter it did show,

Of one entire Diamond, this did bind

The Scarf so firm as an united minde;

A scarlet Coat imbroidered thick with Gold,

And Hangers like to it his Sword did hold,

And in his hat a Plume of Fethers were;

In falling folds, which hung below his Hair;

Thus he being accouter’d death to meet

In gallantry, yet Gently, Friendly, Sweet,

He D4v 24

He should imbrace him, and gladly yield,

Yet would he dye as Souldiers in the field;

For gallant valiant men do court Death so

As amorous courtly men a wooing go.

His Father all in mourning garments clad,

Not griev’d to dye, but for his Son was sad;

Millions of people throng’d about to see

This gallant mourning Princes Tragedie;

But in the time these preparations were,

The Queen sent to th’young Lady to prepare

Her self to dy; when she the news did hear,

Joy in her countenance did then appear;

Then she her self did dress like to a Bride,

And in a rich and gilded Coach did ride,

Thus triumphing as on her wedding day

To meet her Bridegroome Death; but in the way

The people all did weep that she should dye,

Such Youth and Beauty in Deaths arms should lye.

But she did smile, her countenance was glad,

And in her eyes such lively spirits had

As the quick darting raies the Sun out-shin,

And all she look’d on for a time were blind

But when the Queen and Nobles all were set,

And the condemned on the Scaffold met,

Where when the Lovers they each other spi’d

Their eyestrings seem’d as if together ti’d

So firmly were they fix’d, and did so gaze

And with each other strook in such amaze,

As if with wonder they were turn’d to stone,

And that their feet unto the ground were grown

(They could not stir) but at the last mov’d he

In a slow pace, amazed went to see

That Heavenly object, who thought it may

An Angel be, his Soul to take away.

Her limbs did shake like shivering Agues cold,

For fear upon her spirit had got hold:

When she did see him move, for she had thought

He was a Statue, and by Carvers wrought

And by the Queens command, was thither brought.

When he came neer, he kneeled down to pray,

And thus unto her softly did he say,

My E1r 25

“My sense surprise my spirits, thy spirit my mind,

And great disturbance in my thoughts I find,

My reason’s misty, Understanding blind,

Tell me, whether thou art of mortal kind.”

Said she, “that question I would aske of you,

For I doe doubt my Senses are not true.

Intelligencer, are you the Prince I see

Or are you a spirit that thus speaks to me.”

With that the Queen did come their doubts to clear;

“It was my plot,” said she, “to bring you here,

And why I crost your loves, I will forbear

To tell as now, but afterwards declare;”

Then did she cause a Priest to joyn their hands,

Which he devoutly ty’d in wedlock bands.

Then did the Queen unto her Nobles say,

That she a debt to Gratitude must pay,

And to the Princes Father strait she went,

“Here Sir,” said she “I do my selfe present

To be your Wife, for by your counsell I

Have Rul’d and Raign’d in great felicity”

He kneelling kist her hand, and both agree

That in few daies the Wedding kept should be.

Such joyes of acclamation loud of wonder,

Echoed the Air lowder than is Joves Thunder.

Her Princely Niece so noble was, that then

For joy she modestly threw up her Fann,

Since to a high-born Prince knew well that she

Shortly in glorious Nuptialls she should be.

The Marriage Song.

1 wordflawed-reproduction the songs following
are my Lord Marquiss

Were all the joyes that ever yet were known.

And all those joyes met, and put into one,

Not like our Lovers joyes, but so much lesse;

Our Lovers height of joyes none can expresse.

They’ve made another Cupid I am told,

And buried the blind Boy that was so old.

Hymen is proud, since Laurell crown’s his Brow,

He never made his Triumphs untill now

E The E1v 26

The Marriage Song for the old Duke
and the old Queen’s Marriage.

Now the old Cupid he is fled

Unto the Queen, she to her Bed

Brought the old Duke, so ends all harmes

In loves imbraces in their Arms.

This elder Wedlock more than ripe,

Was of the younger but a Type,

What wants of Cupid, Hymens Cup,

Ceres and Bacchus made it up.

A Marriage Song of the Queens Niece

Now the old Queens beloved Niece,

For Beauty, Favour, such a peice

As Love could faign, not hope to see,

Just such a miracle was she.

She did congratulate, and eas’d

So Noble, when saw Lovers pleas’d

’Bove repining, and the Fates since

So just to give her a brave Prince.

A Song.

Hymen triumph in joy

Since overcom’d Loves Boy,

All Ages, Sex and place

The Wedlock Laws embrace

The looser sort can bind,

Monarch of whats Mankind

All things do fall so pat

In this Triumvirat,

Which now in Wedlock mix’t,

Now three, though once were fix’t

A Lady said such constant Love was dead,

And all Fidelity to Heaven fled.

Another Lady said she fain would know,

When married were, if continued so.

O E2r 27

“O,” said a Man, such Love (as this one) sure

Doth never in a Married Pair endure;

But Lovers cross’d use not to end so well;

Which for to show, a Tale I mean to tell.”

The Description of the Violence of Love.

There was a Lady, Virtuous, Young, and Fair,

Unto her Father onely Child and Heir;

In her Behaviour modest, sweet, and civil,

So innocent, knew onely Good from Evil;

Yet in her carriage had a Majestick Grace,

And affable and pleasant was her Face.

Another Gentleman as neighbouring dwelt

Hard by her Father’s House which there was built;

Who had a Son such Beauty did adorn,

As some might think of Venus he was born;

His Spirit Noble, Generous, and Great,

By nature Valiant, Dispositions sweet;

His Wit ingenious, and his Breeding such,

Arts, Sciences of Pedantry no touch.

This Noble Gentleman in Love did fall

With this fair Lady, who was pleas’d withall;

He courted her, his Service did address,

His Love by Words and Letters did express;

Though she seem’d Coy, his Love she did not slight,

But Civil Answers did in Letters write.

At last so well acquainted they did grow,

As but one Heart each others Thoughts did know.

Mean time their Parents did their Loves descry,

And sought alwayes to break that Unity;

Forbid each others company frequent,

Did all they could Loves Meetings to prevent:

But Love regards not Parents, nor their Threats;

For Love, the more ’tis barr’d, more Strength begets.

Thus being cross’d, by stealth they both did meet,

With privacy did make their Love more sweet;

Although their Fears did oft affright their Minde,

Lest that their Parents should their walks out finde:

But in the Kingdome did Rebellion spring,

Most of the Commons fought against their King;

E2 And E2v 28

And all the Gentry that there Loyal were,

Did to the Standard of the King repair

Amongst the rest this Noble Youth was one,

Love bid him stay, but Honour spurr’d him on;

When he declar’d his Minde, her Heart it rent,

Rivers of Tears out of her Eyes grief sent;

When every Tear like Bullets pierc’d his Breast,

Scatter’d his Thoughts, and did his Minde molest.

Silent long time they stood at last spake he,

“Why doth my Love with Tears so torture me:”

“Why do you blame my Eyes,” said she, “to weep,

Since they perceive you Faith nor Promise keep?

For did you love but half so true as I,

Rather than part, would choose to stay and dye:

But you Excuses make, and take delight;

Like cruel Thieves, to rob and spoyl by Night;

Now you have stole my Heart, away you run,

And leave a silly Virgin quite undone.

If I stay from the Wars, what will Men say:

They’ll say I make excuse to be away;

By this Reproach a Coward I am thought,

And my Disgrace will make you seem in fault,

To set your Love upon a Man so base,

Bring Infamy to us, and to our Race.

To sacrifice my Life for your content

I would not spare; but (Dear) in this consent,

’Tis for your sake Honour I strive to win,

That I some Merit to your Worth may bring.”

She.

“If you will go, let me not stay behind,

But take such Fortune with you as I finde;

I’ll be your Page, attend you in the Field,

When you are weary, I will hold your Shield.”

He.

“Dear Love, that must not be, for Women are

Of tender Bodies, and Minds full of Fear;

Besides, my Minde so full of Care will be,

For fear a Bullet should once light on thee,

That I shall never fight, but strengthless grow,

Through feeble Limbs be subject to my Foe.

When E3r 29

When thou art safe, my Spirits high shall raise,

Striving to get a Victory or Praise.”

With sad Laments these Lovers they did part,

Absence as Arrows sharp doth wound each Heart;

She spends her time, to Heaven high doth pray,

That Gods would bless, and safe conduct his way.

The whil’st he fights, and Fortunes favour had,

Fame brings his Honour to his Mistris sad;

All Cavaliers that in the Army were,

There was not one could with this Youth compare

By Love his Spirits all were set on Fire,

Love gave him Courage, made his Foes retire.

But O ambitious Lovers, how they run

Phaeton. Without a guidannce, like Apollo’s Sun;

Run out of Moderations line, so he

Into the thickest of the Army flee

Singly alone, amongst the Squadrons deep

Fighting, sent many one with Death to sleep.

But Numbers, with united strength, at last

This Noble Gallant Man from Horse did cast;

His Body all so thick of Wounds were set,

It seem’d in Fight his safety did forget,

But not his Mistris, who in his Minde still lyes,

And wish’d her now to close his dying Eyes.

“Soul,” said he, “if thou wandrest in the Air,

Thy service to thy Mistris; be thy care

Attend her close, with her Soul friendship make,

Then she perchance no other Love may take:

But if thou sink down to the Shades below,

As being a Lover, to Elizium go;

Perchance my Mistris Soul you there may meet,

So walk and talk in Loves Discourses sweet:

But if thou art like to a Light put out,

Thy Motions ceas’d, then all’s forgot no doubt.”

With that a sigh, which from his Heart did rise,

Did mount his Soul up to the Aery Skies.

The whil’st his Mistris being sad with care,

Knees worn, Spirits spent, imploring Gods with prayer,

A drowsie Sleep did all her Senses close.

But in her Dreams Hermen her Lover shews

With all his Wounds, which made her loud to cry;

“Help, help, you Gods,” said she, “that dwell on high.”

E3 This E3v 30

These fearfull Dreams her Senses all did wake,

In a cold sweat with fear each Limb did shake.

Then came a Messenger as pale as Death,

With panting sides, swoln eyes, and shortned breath,

And by his looks his sadder tale did tell;

Which when she saw, strait in a swoun she fell;

At last her stifled Spirits had recourse

Unto their usual place, but of less force:

Then lifting up her Eyes, her Tongue gave way,

And thus unto the Gods, did mourning say:

“Why pray we, and offer to high Heaven,

Since what we ask, we seldome have us given?

If their Decrees are fix’d, what need we pray?

Nothing can alter Fates, nor cross their way:

If they leave all to Chance, who can apply?

For every Chance is then a Deity:

But if a power they keep to work at will,

It shews them cruel to torment us still.

When we are made, in pain we allwayes live,

Sick Bodyes, or griev’d Minds to us they give;

With Motions which run cross, compos’d we are,

Which makes our Reason and our Sense to jar;

When they are weary to torment us, must

We then return, and so dissolve to Dust.

But if I have my Fate in my own power,

I will not breath, nor live another hour:

Then with the Gods I shall not be at strife,

If my Decree can take away my Life.”

Then on her feeble Legs she straight did stand,

And took a Pistol charg’d in either hand.

“Here, Dear,” said she, “I give my Heart to thee,

And by my Death, divulg’d our Loves shall be;

Then Constant Lovers Mourners be, when dead,

They’ll strew our Graves, which is our Marriage Bed;

Upon our Hearses, weeping Poplar set,

Whose Moysture drops our Death’s dry’d Cheeks may wet,

And at our Heads two Cypress Garlands stand,

That were made up by some fair Virgins hand;

And on our cold pale Corps such Flowers strew,

Which hang their Heads for grief, so downward grow;

Then layes us in a deep and quiet Grave,

Wherein our Bones long Rest and Peace may have.

Let E4r 31

Let not our Friends a Marble Tombe erect

Upon our Graves, two Mirtle Trees there set

Those may in time a shady Grove become,

Fit for sad Lovers Walks, whose Thoughts are dumb;

For Melancholy Love seeks place obscure;

No Noyse or Company can it endure;

And when to ground they cast their dull, sad eyes,

Perchance may think on us that therein lyes,

Thus though w’are dead, our Memories remain,

And, like to Ghosts, may walk in moving Brains;

And in each head Loves Altars for us build

To sacrifice some Sighs, or Tears distill’d.”

Then to her Heart the Pistol set, and shot

A Bullet in, by which her Grief forgot;

Fame with her Trumpet blew in every ear,

The sound of this great act spread every where;

Lovers from all parts came, by the report,

Unto her Urn, as Pilgrims did resort;

There offered praises of her Constancy,

And vows the like unto Loves Deity.

A Woman said, that Tale exprest Love well,

And shew’d that Constancy in Death did dwell;

“Friendship, they say, is so divine,

That Jove himself doth with himself so joyn,

Dividing himself into equal parts three,

Yet one pure Minde, and perfect Power agree;

So Loving Friendships having but one Will,

Their Bodyes two, one Soul doth govern still;

Nor do their Bodyes sever much,

Their Senses equally do touch:

For what doth strike the Eye, or other parts,

With Pain or Pleasure, like to each converts:

So though in Substance, Form divided be,

Yet Soul and Senses joyn, as one agree.”

A Man that to the Lady plac’d was nigh,

Said, he would tell another Tragedy.

Humanity, E4v 32

Humanity, Despair, and Jealousie, express’d
in three Persons.

Walking along close by a rivers side,

The Waters smooth ran with a flowing tide:

The Sunne did shine thereon darting his beams,

Which made it glister like to diamond Chains,

The purling streams invited me to swimme,

Pull’d off my cloaths, then enter’d every limb:

But envious cold did dart, and me oppresse,

Its arrows sharp, which did me backwards presse:

The river to imbrace me made great hast:

Her moist soft arms incircled round my wast:

Streams came so fast would force me there to stay,

But that my arms did make my body way,

My hands did strike the soft smooth waters face,

As flatt’ring them to give my body place:

But when I found them apt, and high to rise,

Striving to stop my Breath, and blind my Eyes,

Then did I spread my Arms, and Circles make,

And the united Streams asunder brake;

My Legs did kick away those Waters clear,

To keep them back, lest they should croud too near;

And as I broke those Streams, they run away,

Yet fresh supply’d their place to make me stay;

Long did I struggle, and my strength did try

At last got hold upon a Bank near by,

And on theside a Hill where Trees were plac’d,

Which on the Waters did a shadow cast,

Thither I went, and when I came close by,

I saw a Woman there a weeping lye;

Which when I saw, began to slack my pace,

Straight did my Eyes view there a Lovely Face

Under a Tree, close by the Root she sate,

Which with her Tears as falling Showers she wet;

At last she spake, and humbly thus did pray,

“You Gods,” said she, “my Life soon take away

No slander on my innocency throw,

Let my pure Soul into Elizium go;

If I drown here within this watry Lake,

O let my Tears a murmuring River make,

Give F1r 33

Give it both Voice and Words my grief to tell,

My Innocency, and why therein I fell;”

Then strait she rose, the River leapt she in,

Which when I saw, I after her did swim,

My hands as Ores did well my body row,

Though panting breath made waters rough to grow,

Yet was my breast a Keell for to divide,

And by that help my Body swift did glide;

My eies the Needle to direct the way,

Which from the North of grief did not estray,

She, as the Loadstone, drew me to her help,

Though storms of fear within my minde I felt.

Her Garments loose did on the waters flow,

They puffing out like Sails when Winds do blow,

I catch’d thereat to draw her to the Brink,

But when I went to pull, she down did sink,

Yet did not I my hold thereof let go,

But drew her to the Shore, with much ado,

I panting with short breath, as out of wind,

My Spirits spent, my Eyes were dimly blind,

My strength so weak, was forc’d to ly down straight,

Because alas my life was over-fraught;

When life got strength, my mind with thoughts did fill

Then to the Lady us’d all Art and Skill,

Bowing her forward t’let the waters out,

Which from her Nose and Mouth gusht like a spout;

At last her Breath had liberty and scope,

Then thus unto me passionatly spoke,

“O who are you that doth my Soul molest,

Gives me not leave in Death to take my rest?

Is there no peace in Nature to be found?

Must Misery and Fear attend us round?

O Gods,” said she, “here grant me my desire,

Here end my life and let my breath expire.”

I Answered,

“Thus you ’gainst Nature set your selfe at odds,

And by this wish you do displease the Gods;

By violence you cut off their Decree,

No violence in Nature ought to be;

But what makes you thus strive for to destroy

That life, which Gods did give you to enjoy.”

F She F1v 34

She Answered,

“O Sir
If you did know the torments I do feel,

My Soul is wrapcktckt upon ill Fortunes wheel,

My inocency by aspersion whipt,

My pure Chastity, of Fame is stript,

My love’s neglected, and forsaken quite,

Banisht from that my Soul tooke most delight.

My heart was plac’d upon a valiant man,

Which in the Warrs much Honour had he wonne,

His actions all by Wisdome placed were,

And his discourse delighted every eare,

His bounty, like the Sun, gave life and light

To those that Misery had eclipsed quite;

This man my person seem’d for to admire,

My Love before the World he did desire,

Told me the Gods might sooner Heaven leave,

Than he forsake my love, or truth deceive;

But O vile Jelousie, a Lovers Divell,

Torments the Thoughts with suspitions evill,

Frighting the mind with false imaginations,

Burying all joies in deepest contemplations;

Long lay it smother’d, but at last broke out

With hate, in rage and spleen base words flung out;

Slander and Infamy in circles round,

My innocent youth sharp tongues doth wound

But his inconstancy did wound me more

Than all Spite, Slander, Malice did before;

For he another married and left me

Clouded in dark disgrace, black infamy;”

With that she fetch’t a sigh, “Heaven blesse,” said she,

“This cruell unkind man where ere he be;

I faint, Death diggs my Grave, O lay me in

This watry Monument then may the Spring

In murmures soft, with blubbering words relate,

And dropping weep at my ill fortunes fate;”

Then on a Groan, her Soul with wings did fly

Up to the Heavens, and the Gods on high;

Which when I saw, my eyes for grief did flow

Although her Soul, I thought to Heaven did go;

And musing long, at last I chanc’d to see

A Gentleman, which handsome seem’d to be:

He F2r 35

He coming neer, ask’d me who there did lye,

I said ’twas one for Love and Grief did dye;

Hearing my words, he started back, Brows bent,

With trembling leggs, he to the Body went,

Which when he view’d, his blood fell from his face,

His eyes were fix’d, and standing in one place;

At last kneel’d down, and thus did say,

“No hope is left, Life’s fled away.

Thou wandring Soul where ere thou art,

Hear my confession from my Heart;

I lov’d thee better far than life,

Thought to be happy in a Wife;

But O Suspition, that false Thiefe,

Seiz’d on my Thoughts, ruling as chiefe,

Suspition, Malice, Spight commanded still,

To carry false Reports thy Ears to fill;

My jealousie did strive thee to torment,

And glad to heare when thou wast discontent.

I strove alwaies my love for to disguise

Report I married was; when all was lyes;

But Jealousie begets all actions base,

And in the Court of Honour hath no place.

Forgive me, Soul, where ever thou dost rest,

For of all Women I did love thee best:

Here I do offer up my life to thee,

Both dead, we in one Grave may buried be.”

Swifter than Lightning straight his Sword he drew,

Upon the point himself he desperate threw,

And to his panting Breast made such dispatch,

That I no help, nor hold thereat could catch;

Turning his pale and ghastly eyes to me,

“Mix both our ashes in one Urne,” said he;

With that he fell close by his Mistris side,

Imbrac’d, and kist, and groand, and there he died;

Which when I saw, I drest, my Clothes put on,

Then celebrate their Funerall Rites alone;

First I did lay a heap of Cypress dry,

With striking Flints, I made a fire thereby,

Laid both their Bodies thereupon to burn,

Which in short time did into Ashes turn,

And being mixt, I tooke them thence away,

And digg’d a Grave those Ashes in to lay;

F2 Then F2v 36

Then did I gather Cockle-shells, though small,

With Art I strove to build a Tomb withall,

Placing some on, others in even layes,

Others joyn’d close, till I a Tomb did raise

And afterwards I planted Mirtle green,

Where Turtle Doves do come and build therein:

And there young Nightingales come every spring

To celebrate their Fames, do sit and sing.

A merry Lass amongst the rest

Began her Tale and thus exprest.

A Master was in love with his fair Maid,

But of his scolding Wife was sore afraid,

For she in every place would watch and pry

And peek through every key-hole to espy

And if she found them out, aloud would call

And cry she was undone, her Maid had all

Her Husband’s love, for she had none she was sure,

Wherefore this life she never would endure:

But he did woo his Maid still by his eye,

She apprehensive, understood thereby,

And oft would finde some worke to come in place,

Because her Master should behold her Face,

Makeing excuses, as business she had great,

Her business was her Master for to meet:

With pretty smiles she trips it by,

And on him casts a kind coy eye;

To all the house besides would seeme demure,

Oft singing Psalms, as if she were right pure,

Repeating Scripture, sigh, turn up her eyes,

As if her Soul straight flew unto the Skies,

And that her Body were as chaste cold Ice,

And she were onely fit for Paradise;

But were her words precise, her thoughts were not,

For with her Master, Scripture quite forgot

She Venus then as Goddess pray’d unto,

Her Master as the Priest, with offering woo

Her Mistris like to Juno fret and fround

When that her Husband and her Maid she found,

And in the Clouds of Night would seek about,

Sometimes she mist them, sometimes found them out;

But F3r 37

But when she did, Lord what a noise was there,

How Jove and she did thunder in the air;

Like IshmaelSemele, she with child was got, but sent

Like unto Hagar, out of doores she went,

Where he, like Abraham good, a bottle ty’d,

And gave her means the Child for to provide;

Whereat her Mistris angry was, and cry’d,

And wish’t her Maid, like IshmaelSemele, might have dy’d.

Another man amongst the rest

Said, they their Tales had well exprest.

“But they that study much and seldome speake

For want of use of words are for to seeke;

Their tongue is like a rusty key grown rough,

Hard to unlock, so do the words come forth:

Or like an Instrument that lies unstrung,

Till it be tun’d cannot be plaid upon;

For custome makes the tongue both smooth and quick,

And moving oft no words thereon will stick,

Like to a flowing Tide, makes its own way,

Runs smooth and clear, without a stop or stay;

That makes a Lawyer plead well at the Bar,

Because he talkes there, foure parts of the year;

That makes Divines in Pulpits well to preach,

Because so often they the People teach;

But those that use to contemplate alone

May have fine thoughts, good words expresse they none;

Good language they express in Black and White,

Although they speak it not, yet well can write;

Much thoughts keep back the words from running out

The tongue’s ty’d up, the sluce is stopt no doubt;

For Phancie’s quick and flies such several waies,

For to be drest in words it seldome staies;

Phancy is like an Eele; so slippery glides,

Before the tongue takes hold, away it slides.

Thus he that seldome speaks is like to those

That travell, their own languages do lose.”

Now saies a Lady which was sitting by,

“Pray let your rusty tongue with silence lie,

And lissen to the Tale that I shall tell,

Mark the misfortunes, that to them befell.”

F3 A F3v 38

A description of Love and Courage.

A Gentleman was riding all about,

As in a Progresse, he chanced to spie out

Upon a rising Hill there grew a Wood,

And in the midst a little house there stood;

It was but small, yet was it wondrous fine,

As if ’twere builded for the Muses Nine,

The Platforme was so well contriv’d, that there

Was ne’r a piece of ground lay waste or spare;

This house was built of pure rich Marble stone,

And all of Marble Pillars stood it on;

So smooth twas pollish’d, as like glass it shew’d,

Which gave reflection to the wood there grow’d;

Those trees upon the Walls seem’d painted green,

Yet every Leaf thereon was shaking seen;

The Roofs therein were arch’d with artfull skill,

Which over head hung like a hanging Hill,

And there a man himself might entertain,

With his own words, rebounding back again.

The doors to every roome were very wide,

And men like Statues carved on either side:

And in such lively postures made they were,

Seem’d like as Guards or Porters waiting there;

The winding Stairs rising without account

Of any steps, up to the top did mount;

There on the head a Cap of Lead did wear,

Like to a Cardinals Cap, was made foure square;

But flat it was, close to the Crown did lye,

From Cold, and Heat, it keeps it warm and drye:

And in the midst, a Tower plac’d on high,

Like to Ulysses Monster, with one eye;

But standing there, did view through windows out

On every side fine Prospects all about.

When that his eyes were satisfied with sight,

And that his mind was fill’d with such delight,

He did descend back by another way,

Chance was his onely guide which did convey

Him to a Gallery both large and long,

Where Pictures by Apelles drawn, there hung,

And at the end a Doore half ope, half shut,

Where, in a Chamber did a Lady sit.

To F4r 39

To him so beatifull she did appear

She seem’d an Angell, not a Mortall here;

Cloth’d all in white she was, and from her head

Her hair hung down, and on her shoulders spread,

And in a Chair she sate, a Table by,

Leaning thereon, her head did sidewaies lie

Upon her hand, the Palm a Pillow made,

Which being soft, her rosie Cheeks she laid,

And from her eyes the Tears in showres did fall

Upon her Breast, sparkling like Diamonds all;

At last she fetcht a sigh, “heart break,” said she,

“Gods take my life, or give me liberty:”

When that her words exprest, she was constrain’d;

He courage took on what she there complain’d,

And boldly entering in, she seem’d afraid,

He kneeling down, askt pardon and thus said,

“Celestial creature do not think me rude,

Or want of breeding made me thus intrude,

But Fortune me unto this house did bring,

Whereby a Curiosity did spring

From my desires this House to view throughout,

Seeing such shady Groves to grow about,

And when I came nere to the Gate, not one

Was there to ask or make opposition;

The House seem’d empty, not a creature stirring;

But every Room I entred still admiring

The Architect and Structure of each part,

Those that designed were skilfull in that Art.

Wandring about at last, chance favouring me

Hath brought me to this place, where I do see

A beauty far beyond all Art, or any

That Nature heretofore hath made, though many

Of all the Sexe creates she sweet and fair,

Yet never any of your sex so rare;

This made me stand and gaze, amaz’d to see

What wondrous glorious things in Nature be,

But when I heard your words for to express

Some griefe of heart, and wisht for a redress,

My soul flew to your service, here I vow

To Heaven high, my life I give to you,

Not onely give my life, but for your sake

Suffer all pains, Nature or Hell can make:

Nor F4v 40

Nor are my proffers for a base self-end,

But to your Sex a servant, and a friend;

My zeale is pure, my fame being clear,

Choose me your Champion, and adopt me here;

If I cannot your enemy destroy,

Ile do my best, no rest I will enjoy,

Because my Fortune, Life, and Industry

I’ll sacrifice unto thy liberty.”

When that the Lady heard him speak so free,

And with such passion and so honestly;

“I do accept your favour Sir,” said she,

“For no condition can be worse to me

Than this I live in, nor can I

My Honour hazard in worse company,

Wherefore to your protection I resign,

Heaven, O Heaven prosper this design;

But how will you dispose of me, pray tell,”

“I will,” said he, “convey you to a Cell

Which is hard by, and there will counsel take

What way is best to make a clear escape;”

With that his riding Coat, which he did wear,

He pull’d strait off, which she put on; her Hair

She ty’d up short, and covered close her face,

And in this posture stole out of that place.

An old ill natur’d Baud, that tended on her,

She being asleep, she nere thought upon her;

But when sleep fled, awak’d she up did rise,

Sitting upon her Bed, rubbing her Eyes

That were seal’d up with matter and with rhume,

When that was done, she went into the Roome

Wherein the Lady us’d alone to be,

Strait missing her cry’d out most pitteously,

Calling the Servants to search all about,

But they unto a Wake were all gone out.

The Peasants Ball is that we call a Wake,

When Men and Maids do dance, and love do make,

And she that danceth best is crown’d as Queen,

With Garlands made of flowres and Laurell green;

Those men that dance the best, have Ribbans ty’d

By every Maid that hopes to be a Bride.

All Youth these kinde of Sports, likewise a Faire,

Will venture life, rather than not be there,

Which G1r 41

Which made the servants all, although not many,

To be abroad, and leave the house for any

To enter in, which caused this escape,

And to the Owner brought so much mishap.

A Lord came galloping as from his Palace,

With pleasing thoughts, thinking alone to solace

Himself with his fair Mistris, who admired

Her beauty more than Heaven, and desired

Her favour more than Joves; her angry words

Did wound him more than could the sharpest Swords;

Her frowns would torture him as on a Wrack,

Muffling his spirits in melancholly black:

But if she chanc’d to smile, his joyes did rise

So high beyond the Sun that lights the Skies;

But riding on, the Castle coming nigh,

The woman running about he did discry,

His heart misgave him, with doubts alighted,

Asking the reason she was so affrighted;

She shak’d so much, no answer could she make;

He being impatient unto her thus spake:

“Divell,” said he, “what is my Mistris dead,

Or sick, or stole away, or is she fled.”

She kneeling down cry’d out, “O she is gone

And I left to your mercy all alone,”

With that he tore his hair, his breast did beat,

And all his body in a cold damp sweat,

Which made his Nerves to slack, his Pulse beat slow,

His strength to fail, so weak he could not go

But fell upon the ground, seeming as dead

Untill his man did bear him to a bed,

For he, did onely with him one man bring,

Who prov’d himself trusty in every thing;

But when his diffus’d spirits did compose,

Into a deep sad melancholly grows,

Could neither eat, nor drink, nor take his rest,

His thoughts and passions being so opprest.

At last, this Lady and her noble Guide

Got to a place secure, yet forc’d to hide

Her self a time, til she such friends could make

That would protect vertue for vertues sake,

Because her loving Foe, was great in power,

Which might a friendless Innocent devoure.

G This G1v 42

This noble Gentleman, desir’d to know,

From what Misfortunes her restraint did grow.

Willing she was to tell this Gentleman

The story of her life, and thus began.

“After my birth, my Mother soon did dye, Leaving my Father to a Sonn and I, My Father nor my Brother liv’d not long, Then I was left alone, and being young, My Aunt did take the charge to see me bred, To mannage my Estate; my brother dead, I was the only Child and Heire, but she Was married to a Lord of high degree, Who had a Son, that Son a wife, They not agreeing liv’d an unhappy Life: When I was grown to sixteen years of age My Aunt did die, her Husband did ingage To take the charge, and see me well bestowed, And by his tender care great love he shewed: But such was my misfortune, O sad fate, He di’d and left me to his Son’s Wifes hate, Because this younger Lord grew much in Love, Which when his Wife by circumstance did prove, She sought all means she could to murther me: Yet she would have it done with privacy, The whilst her amourous Lord fresh courtships made, With his best Rhetorick for to perswade My honest youth to yeild to his desire, My beauty having set his heart on fire; At last, considering with my self, that I Having a plentifull Estate whereby I might live honorable, safe and free, Not subject to be betrai’d to slavery. Then to the Lady and the Lord I went, As a respect I told them my intent. The Lady my design she well approv’d, He nothing said, but seem’d with passion mov’d; But afterwards when I my leave did take, He did rejoice as if ’twere for my sake, And so it was, but not unto my good, For he with Treachery my waies withstood; For as I travell’d, he beset me round, And forc’d me from my servants, which he found To G2r 43 To be not many, when he had great store For to assault, but my defence was poor. Yet were they all disguised, no face was shown, Such unjust acts desire to be unknown. When I was in their power, ‘help, help,’ said I, ‘You Gods above, and heare a wretches cry;’ But from Heaven no assistance did I finde, All seem’d as cruel as the mad mankinde. At last unto the Castle me convey’d, The Lord discovering of himself, thus said, ‘Cruellest of thy sex, since no remorse Can soften thy hard heart, Ile use my force, Unless your heart doth burn with equall fire, Or condescend to what I shall desire.’ I for my own defence, ’gainst this abuse, Soft flattering words, was forced for to use, Gently intreating his patience, that I A time might have my heavy heart to try That by perswasions it might entertain Not only love, but return love again; He seem’d well pleas’d, his temper calm did grow, Which by his smiling countenance did shew. Said he, ‘if in your favour I may live, A greater blessing Heaven cannot give.’ Then to a woman old, he gave the charge For to attend, but not for to enlarge My liberty, with Rules my life did bind, Nothing was free but thoughts within my mind; Thus did I live some halfe a year and more, The whilst to Gods on high I did implore; For still he woo’d, and still I did deny, At last impatient grew, and swore that I Deluded him, and that no longer would He be denied, but yield to him I should: With much intreaty I pacified his minde With words and couuntenance that seemed kinde; But praiers to Heaven more earnestly I sent With tears and sighs, that they would still prevent, By their great power, his evill design, Or take away this loathed life of mine; Although at first they seem’d to be all deaf, Yet now at last they sent me some relief.” G2 The G2v 44

The whilst the Champion Knight, with his fair prize,

Was strook with Love by her quick darting eies,

Yet mov’d they so as modesty did guide,

Not turning wantonly, or leird aside;

Nor did they sterne or proudly pierce,

But gentle, soft, with sweet commerse,

And when those eyes were fill’d with watry streams,

Seem’d like a Brook gilded with the Sun-beams;

At last perswading love prevail’d so far

As to present his Sute unto her eare:

“Faire Maid I love thee, and my love so pure

That no corrupted thoughts it can endure,

My love is honest, my request is just,

For one mans fault do not all men mistrust;

I am a Batchelor and you a Maid,

For which we lawfully may love he said,

Wherefore dear Saint cast not my sute aside,

Chuse me your Husband, and be you my Bride:

I am a Gentleman, and have been bred

As to my qualitie, my Father dead

Left me his Possessions, which are not small,

Nor yet so great to make me vain withall;

My life is yet with an unspotted fame,

Nor so obscure, not to be known by name;

Amongst the best and most within this Land

Favours receiv’d, yet none like your command.”

She stood a time, as in a musing thought,

At last she spake, “Sir,” said she “you have brought

My Honor out of danger, and civilly

Have entertain’d me with your company,

For which I owe my life, much more my love,

Should I refuse I should ingratfull prove;

Tis not great wealth that I would marry to,

Nor outward Honors that my love can wooe,

But it is vertue and a heroick minde,

A disposition sweet, noble, and kinde,

And such a one I judge you for to be,

Wherefore I’le not refuse if you chuse me.”

When they were thus agreed they did repaire

Unto his house, and went to marry there,

The whilst the Lord, the Kingdome all about

He privatly had sent to search her out;

At G3r 45

At last newes came with whom, and where she dwelt;

With that much grief within his heart he felt,

That any man should have her in his power,

He, like a Divell could his soul devoure:

But when he heard the messenger to say

Was preparation ’gainst her wedding day,

He grew outragious, cursed Heaven and Earth,

The marriage of his Parents, and his Birth:

At last he did resolve what ere befell,

That he would have her though he sank to Hell;

When he had got a Companie together,

Such as he fed, that would go any whether,

No act they would refuse that he desired,

Obeyed most desperatly what he required.

Unto his house they went in a disguise,

Intending then the Lady to surprize;

But being upon her wedding day, was there

A Company of Guests, that merry were,

This Lord desir’d to part them if he might.

Cause lie together they should not that night:

So in they went, the Servants all did think

Were Maskerades, and made them all to drink;

But when they went into an inward roome,

Where all were dancing, Bride and the Bridegroom,

The Bride acquainted with that Maskardsight,

She ran away as in an extream fright;

The Bridegeroome soon imagin’d what they were,

And though unarm’d, his courage knew no fear.

Their Swords they drew, aim’d onely at his life,

That done, they thought to get away his Wife:

His Hat and Cloak arms of defence did make,

The Tongs for to assault he up did take;

The women scriekt, murther, murther cried out.

The men flung all the Chairs and Stools about,

With which they did resist, and did oppose,

For some short time, the fury of his Foes.

It chanc’d a Sword out of a hand did fall,

The Bridegroom strait took up and fought withall,

So well did manage it, and with such skill,

That many of his Enemies did kill;

Yet he was wounded sore, and out of breath,

But heat of Courage kept out dull cold death;

G3 At G3v 46

At last his Friends got Arms to take his part,

Who did the oppression of his Foes divert.

The Vizard of the Lord fell off at length,

Which when the Bridegroome saw, with vigorous strength

He ran uppon him with such force, that he

Strook many down to make his passage free.

The trembling Bride was almost dead with fear,

Yet for her Husband had a lissening ear;

At last the noise of murther did arrive,

“O he is dead,” said she, “and I alive.”

With that she run with all her power and might

Into the roome, her Husband then in fight

With her great enemy, and where they stood

The Ground was like a foaming Sea of blood;

Wounded they were, yet was each others heart

So hot with passion, that they felt no smart.

The Bride did pass and repass by their Swords

As quick as flashing Lightning, and her words,

Cried out, “Desist, Desist, and let me die,

It is decreed by the great Gods on high,

Which nothing can prevent, then let my fall

Be an atonement to make friends withall;”

But Death and Courage being long at strife

About her Husbands Honour and his Life,

They both did fall, and on the ground did lie,

But honoured Courage receiv’d a fame thereby.

When Death turn’d out his life, it went

Into his fame, and built a Monument.

The Bride, when that she saw her Husband faint,

She weeping mourn’d, and made a sad complaint;

“O Gods,” said she, “grant me but this request,

That I might die here on my Husbands breast.”

With that she fell, and on his lipps did lie,

Suckt out each others breath, and so did die.

When that the Lover saw her soul was fled,

And that her body was cold, pale, and dead,

Then he impatient grew his life to hold,

With desperat fury then both fierce and bold,

He gave himself a mortall wound, and so

Fell to the ground, and sick did grow.

Then did he speak to all the Company,

“I do entreat you all for Charity,

To G4r 47

To lay me by my Mistris in a Grave,

That my free soul may rest and quiet have;”

With that a Voice, heard in the Air to say

“My noble friends, you ought to disobey

His dying words, for if you do not so,

From our dead Ashes a jealousie will grow;”

But howsoever, their friends did so agree

That they did put them in a Grave all three:

And ever since fierce jealousie doth rage

Throughout the World, and shall from age to age.

A Batchelor that spightful was and old,

Unto the Company his Tale he told:

Women care not, nor seek for noble praise,

All their delight runns to Romancy ways,

To be in love and be belov’d again,

And to be fought for by the youngest men,

Not for their Vertue, but their Beauty fair,

Intangling men within their amorous snare,

And turning up their eyes, not for to pray,

Unless it be to see their Love that day,

With whining voice, and foolish words implore

The Gods, for what? unless to hold the dore.

And what is their desire, if I should guess,

I straight should judge it tends to wantonness;

Perchance they’l say tis for Conversation,

But those Conversations bring Temptation.

What Youth’s in love with Age, where wisdome dwells,

That all the follies of wild youth still tells;

But youth will shun grave ages company,

And from them fly as from an Enemy.

Say they, their wit is all decay’d and gone,

And that their wit is out of fashion grown,

Say they are peevish, froward and displeas’d,

And full of pain, and weak, and oft diseas’d.

But that is fond excuse, to plead for youth,

For age is valiant, prudent, full of truth;

And sicknes oftner on the young takes hold,

Making them feeble, weak before they’r old.

If Women love, let it be for the sake

Of noble vertue, and the wiser take,

Else G4v 48

Else Vertue is depress’d, forsaken quite,

For she allows no Revellers of Night.

This Sex doth strive by all the art they can

To draw away each others courtly man,

And all the allurements that they can devise,

They put in execution for the prise;

Their eyes are quick and sparkling like the Sun,

Yet allwaies after mankind do they run;

Their words are smooth, their face in smiles are drest;

Their heart is by their countenance exprest;

But in their older age they spightfull grow,

And then they scorns upon their youngers throw,

Industrious are a false report to make,

Lord, Lord, what poor imployments Women take

To carry tales on tongues from eare to eare,

Which faster run than Dromedaries far:

In heat, with speed and haste, they run about

From house to house to find their Comrades out;

And when they meet, so earnest they are bent,

As if the Fates Decrees they could prevent,

The best is Rubbish; they their minds do load

With severall dresses and what is the mode;

But if they spightfull are, they straight defame

Those that most vertue have or honored name,

Or else about their carriage they find fault,

And say their dancing-Masters were stark naught;

But for their several dressings thus will say,

How strangely such a one was drest to day,

And if a Lady dress, or chance to weare

A Gown to please her self, or curle her hair,

If not according as the fashion runns,

Lord how it sets awork their eyes and tongues,

Strait she’s fantasticall they all do cry,

Yet they will imitate her presently,

And what they laught at her in scorn,

Think well themselves for to adorn:

Thus every one doth each another pry,

Not for to mend, but to find fault thereby.

With that the women rose, and angry were,

And said they would not stay such tales to heare,

But all the men upon their knees did fall,

Begging his pardon, and their stay withall,

And H1r 49

And Womens natures being easy, free,

Soon perswaded to keep them company.

The Tale to tell, unto a Womans turn befell.

And when their russling twatling silks did cease,

Their creaking chairs and whisperings held their peace,

The Lady did a Tragick Tale unfold,

Forcing their eyes to weep whil’st she it told.

The Description of the Fondness of Parents,
and the Credulity of Youth.

A gentleman that lived long, and old,

A Wife he had, which fifty years had told;

Their Love was such, as Time could not decay,

Devout they were, and to the Gods did pray:

Yet Children they had none to bless their Life,

She happy in a Husband, he a Wife.

But Nature she the World her power to shew,

From an old Stock caus’d a young Branch to grow,

Because this aged Dame a Daughter bore,

Got by her Husband, threescore years and more;

They were so joy’d, they Natures Bounty praise,

And thank’d the Gods that did the Issue raise.

They were so fond, that none this Child must touch,

Onely themselves, their pains they thought not much.

She gave it suck, and dress’d it on her Lap,

The whil’st he warm’d the Clouts, then coold the Pap;

And when it slept, did by the Child abide,

Both setting near the Cradle on each side.

But when it cry’d, he danc’d it on his Arm,

The whil’st she sung, its Passion for to charm.

Thus did they strive to please it all they could,

And for its good, yield up their lives they would.

With pains and care they nurs’d their Daughter well,

And with her Years her Beauty did excell:

But when she came to sixteen years of age,

Her Youth and Life to Love she did engage

Unto a Gentleman, that liv’d hard by

Unto her Father’s house, who seem’d to dye

If he enjoy’d her not, yet did he dread

His Fathers curse to light upon his head;

H His H1v 50

His Father to his Passion being cruel,

Although he was his onely Son and Jewel,

Charging upon his blessing not to marry

This fairest Maid, nor Servants for to carry

Letters or Tokens, Messages by stealth

Despising her, because of no great Wealth:

Yet she was nobly born, not very poor,

But had not Wealth to equal his great store.

But he did woo his Love in secret guise,

Courting her privately for fear of Spyes

He strove to win her unto his embraces,

Muffling the faults he would, and the disgraces.

Said he,

“Why may not we our Senses all delight?

Heaven our Sense and our Souls unite.

That we call Honour, onely Men creates,

For it was never destin’d by the Fates;

It is a word Nature not teaches, so

A precept Nature doth forbid to go

Then follow Nature, for that follows God,

And not the Arts of Men, that’s vain and odd;

Let every Sense lye steep’d, not drown’d, in pleasure,

For to keep up their height is balanc’d measure.

First let our Eyes all Beauteous Objects view,

Our Ears all Sounds which Notes and Times keep true.

Then scent all Odours to refresh the Brain,

The tast delicious Tongue to entertain,

Our Touch so pleasing, that all parts may feel

Expansion of the Soul, from Head to Heel:

Thus we shall use what Nature to us gave,

For by restraint, in Life we dig our Grave;

For in the Grave our Senses useless lye

Just so is Life, if Pleasures we deny:

Thus Heaven that gave us Sense, may take it ill,

If we refuse what’s offered to us still:

Then let our Sense and Souls take all delight,

Though surfet not, yet feed each Appetite:

Come, Pleasure, circle me within thy Arms,

Inchant my Soul with thy delightful Charms.”

Said she, “it is not alwayes in our power

To feed Delight, nor Pleasure to devour;

Man H2r 51

Man no free power hath of any thing,

Onely himself can to destruction bring,

To kill his Body, and his Soul to damn,

Although he cannot alienate the same,

Nor can he make them always to remain,

Nor turne them to what they were first again:

Thus can we crosse and vex our selves with pain,

But being sick, not to be well again:

We can disturb great Natures work when will,

But to restore and make it, past our skill:”

But he did plead so hard, such Vows did make,

Such large professions, and such oaths did take,

That he would constant be, and for his Bride

He would her make, when that his Father dy’d:

She young and innocent knew no deceits,

Nor thought that Words and Vows were us’d as baits.

So yielded she to all he did desire,

Thinking his Vows as much as Laws require:

But they so oft did meet till it befell,

She sick did grow, her body big did swell,

Which she took care to hide, and would not be,

As she was wont in other Company:

But to her Parents she would often crie,

And said she swell’d so with a Timpany:

They did believe her, and did make great moan

Their onely child to be so sickly growne:

But his old Father, the Marriage to prevent,

He, in all hast, his Son to travel sent;

Gave him no time, nor warning to be gone,

Nor till he saw him shipp’d, left him alone.

But he, to ease his Mistris of her fear,

For to return he onely now took care.

But she no sooner heard that he was gone,

But in her Chamber lock’d her self alone,

Complain’d against her Destiny and Fate,

And all her Love to him was now turn’d Hate.

“You Gods,” said she, “my fault’s no wilfull sin,

For I did think his Vows had Marriage been;

But by his stealth, privately for to leave me,

I finde my crime, and that he did deceive me;

For which,” said she, “you Gods torment him more

Than ever any Man on Earth before.”

H2 With H2v 52

With that she rose, about her neck she flung

A silken string, and in that string she hung.

Her Parents to her Chamber did repair,

Calling her forth to take the fresh sweet Air,

Supposing it might do her health some good,

And at her Chamber door long time they stood:

But when they call’d and knock’d, no answer made,

She being sick, they ’gan to be afraid;

Their limbs that shake with age, nerves being slackt,

Those nervous strings with fear were now contract.

At last, though much ado they had to speak,

Yet Servants call’d; to open or to break

The Lock; no sooner done, but with great fear

They entred in, and when that they were there,

The horrid sight no sooner strook their eyes,

But it congeal’d their hearts, and strait both dyes.

The fame of their sad Fates around was spread,

The Lover heard his Mistris then was dead;

His cloaths, his hair he tore, his breast did beat,

His spirits issu’d out in a cold sweat.

Said he, “O cursed Death, come kill me quick,

And in my heart thy Spear or Arrow stick,

Because my Love in thy cold Arms doth lye,

I now desire, nay am resolv’d to dye.

But O, Love is a powerless God, his flame

It is too weak to melt Death’s icy change;

For though with Love my Heart so hot doth burn,

Yet cannot melt, I fear, Death’s icy Urn.”

Then he all in a rage to the Earth fell,

And there invoking up the Devils of Hell,

Saith he, “ye powerfull Terrors me assist

For to command or force Death when I list,

That by your help and power my Love might rise

From the dark Vault, or Grave wherein she lyes,

Or else by Deaths cold hand alone

Convert me into Marble stone.”

Then running as distracted in and out,

By Phansies Visions strange, saw all about;

And crying loud, “my Mistris, she is there,”

And seem’d to catch, but grasp’d nought else but Air;

“See, see her Ghost, how it doth slide away,

Her Soul is pure, and shines as Glorious Day;

But H3r 53

But my foul Soul, which is as black as Night,

Doth shadows cast upon her Soul that’s bright,

Which makes her walk as in a gloomy shade,

Like Shadows which the Silver Moon hath made:

Hark how my Love sings sweetly in the Sky,

Her Soul is mounted up to Heavens high,

And there it shall be made a Deity,

And I a Devil in Hell tormented lye.”

His spirit being spent, fell to the ground.

And lying there awhile as in a swound,

At last he rose, and with a sober pace

He bent his steps, as to her burying place;

And with his Cloak he muffled him about,

His Hat pull’d over his Brows, his Eyes look’d out

To guide his way, but far he had not gone,

But straight he saw the Funerals coming on.

Three Hearses all were born, as on a breast,

Black-cover’d two, the third with White was drest;

A Silver Crown upon that Hearse did stand,

And Mirtle Bows young Virgins bore in hand;

The graver sort did Cypress Branches bear,

The mournful Parents death for to declare;

With solemn Musick to the Grave them brought,

With Tears in-urn’d their Ashes in a Vault.

But he, before the People did return,

Did make great hast to get close to the Urn,

His Hat puls off, then bows, lets loose his Cloak,

With dropping Eyes, and Countenance sad, thus spoke.

“You charitable Friends, who e’re you be

To see the Dead thus buryed solemnly,

The like to me your Favour I do crave,

Stay all, and see me buryed in this Grave.”

Giving himself a private wound, there fell

Into the Grave, and dying, there did tell

Of his sad Love; “but now,” said he,

“Our Souls nor Bodyes ne’r shall parted be.”

With that he sighs, and breathing out his last,

About his Mistris Corps his Arms he cast.

The Urn seal’d up, Men there a Tombe did build,

Famous it was, such Love therein it held.

Most Parents do rejoyce, and Off-springs bring

Of thankfull Hearts or Prayers for their Off-spring.

H3 These H3v 54

These thought their Age was blest, but they were blind

With Ignorance, and great Affections kind,

More than with Age; but who knows Destiny?

Or thinks that Joy can prove a Misery?

Some Parents love their Wealth more than their Breeds,

Hoording up more than Love or Nature needs;

And rather than poor Virtue they will take,

By crossing Love, Childless themselves will make.

A sober Man, who had a thinking Brain,

Of Vice and Vanity did thus complain:

Tis strange to see the Follyes of Mankinde,

How they for useless things do vex their Minde;

For what superfluous is, serves them for nought,

And more than necessary is a fault;

Yet Man is not content with a just measure,

Unless he surfets with Delight and Pleasure;

As if true Pleasure onely liv’d in Pain,

For in Excess Pain onely doth remain;

Riches bring Cares to keep, Trouble to spend,

Beggars and Borrowers have ne’r a Friend;

And Hospitality is oft diseased,

And seldome any of their Guests are pleased;

Great Feasts, much Company disturbs the rest,

And with much noyse it doth the life molest;

Much Wine and Women makes the Body sick,

And doting Lovers they grow lunatick;

Playing at Cards and Dice, Men Bankrupts grow,

And with the Dice away their Time they throw;

Their Manly Strength, their Reason, and their Wit,

Which might in Wars be spent, or Letters writ;

All Generosity seems buryed here,

Gamesters seem Covetous, as doth appear:

But when they spend, most prodigally wast,

As if their Treasures were the Indies vast;

Or else their Purse an endless Mine of Gold,

But they’ll soon find it doth a Bottom hold;

Titles of Honour, Offices of State,

Brings Trouble, Envy, and Malicious Hate;

Ceremony restrains our Freedome, and

State-offices commands, Men tottering stand;

And H4r 55

And Vanity inchanters of the Minde,

Doth muffle Reason, and the Judgement blinde;

Doth leade the Life in strange phantastick wayes,

To seek that Pleasure which doth live in Praise;

Praise is no real thing, an empty name,

Onely a sound which we do call a Fame;

Yet for this sound Men alwayes are at strife,

Do spend their Fortunes, and do hazard Life;

They give their Thoughts no rest, but hunt about,

And never leave, untill the Life goes out.

Thus Men that seek in Life for more than Health,

For Rest and Peace within his Commonwealth,

Which is his Family, sure he’s unwise,

And knows not where true Happiness still lyes;

Nor doth he guess that Temperance doth give

The truest Pleasures, makes it longest live.

“You Gods,” said he, “give me a Temperate Minde,

An Humble Cottage, a Chast Wife, and Kinde,

To keep me Company, to bear a part

Of all the Joys or Sorrows of my Heart;

And let our Labours, Recreations be,

To pass our Time, and not a Misery.

Banish all Cares, you Gods, let them not lye

As heavy Burthens; and when we must dye,

Let’s leave the World, as in a quiet Sleep,

Draw gently out our Souls, our Ashes keep

Safely in Urns, not separate our Dust,

Or mix us so, if transmigrate we must,

That in one Body we may still remain,

That when dissolv’d, make us up new again.”

A Lady said, she his Discourse would fit,

A Tale would tell that should his Humour hit.

There was a Man and Woman marryed were,

They liv’d just so as should a Marryed Pair;

Though their Bodyes divided were in twain,

Their Souls agreed, as one they did remain;

They did so mutually agree in all,

This Man and Wife we onely One may call.

They were not rich, nor were they very poor,

Not pinch’d with want, nor troubled with great store.

They H4v 56

They did not labour for the Bread they eat,

Nor had they various or delicious Meat;

Nor many Servants had to vex their Minde,

Onely one Maid, that faithfull was, and kinde;

Whose work was just so much as to imploy

Her so, as Idleness her not annoy.

Thus decently and cleanly did they live,

And something had for Charity to give.

Her pastime was, to spin in Winter cold,

The whil’st he read, and to her stories told.

And in the pleasant Spring, fresh Air to take,

To neighbouring Villages short Journeys make.

In Summer Evenings they the Fields did round,

Or sit on Flow’ry Banks upon the Ground;

And so the Autumn they their walks did keep,

To see Men gather Grapes, or sheer their Sheep.

Nor did they miss Jove’s Temple, once a day

Both kneeling down unto the Gods to pray

For gratious mercy, their poor Souls to save,

A healthfull Life, an easy Death might have.

Thus did they live full forty years, and more,

At last Death comes, and knocketh at the dore,

And with his Dart he strook the Man full sick,

For which the Wife was almost lunatick:

But she with care did watch, great pains did take,

Broths, Julips, Jellyes, she with skill did make;

She most industrious was his pains to ease,

Studying alwayes his humour for to please:

For oft the sick are peevish, froward, cross,

And with their pains do tumble, groan and toss

On their sad Couches; quietly he lay,

And softly to himself to Heaven did pray.

Yet was he melancholy at the heart,

For nothing else, but from his Wife to part.

But when she did perceive his Life decay,

Close by his side upon a Bed she lay,

Embrac’d and kiss’d him oft, untill his Breath

And Soul did part, drawn forth by powerful Death.

“Art gone,” said she, “then I will follow straight,

For why, my Soul upon thy Soul shall wait:”

Then turn’d her self upon the other side,

In breathing sighs and show’ring tears she dy’d.

A I1r 57

A Single Life best.

A man said, he liv’d a most happy Life,

Because he was not ty’d unto a Wife;

Said he, Marriage at best obstructs the Minde

With too much Love, or Wives that were unkinde;

Besides, a Man is still ty’d by the heel

Unto the Cradle, Bed, Table, and Wheel;

And cannot stir, but like a Bird in string,

May hop a space, but cannot use his wing.

But those who’re free, and not to Wedlock bound,

They have the liberty the World to round;

And in their Thoughts such Heavenly Peace doth dwell,

When Marriage makes their Thoughts like pains of Hell;

And when they dye, no Care doth grieve their Minde

For any thing that they shall leave behinde.

A Lady said, if Women had but Wit,

Men neither Wives nor Mistresses should get;

No cause should have to murmure and complain,

If Women their kinde Freedome would restrain.

But Marriage is to Women far more worse

Than ’tis to Men, and proves the greater Curse;

“And I,” said she, “for proof a Tale will tell

What to a virtuous marryed Wife befell.”

There once a Lord and Lady marryed were,

And for seven years did live a happy Pair;

He seem’d to love his Wife, as well he might,

For she was Modest, Virtuous, Fair, and Bright;

A Disposition suitable and kinde,

No more obedience Man in Wife could finde:

Shee did esteem him so, and priz’d him such,

Of merit she thought no Man had so much;

And lov’d him more than Life lov’d perfect Health,

Or Princes for to rule a Commonwealth

But as the natures of most Husbands be

Delight in Change, and seek Variety,

Or else like Children, or Fools, eas’ly caught

With pleasing looks, or flattering tongues are brought

From Virtues side, in wicked wayes to run,

And seldome back with Virtue doth return:

I But I1v 58

But Misery may drive them back again,

Or else with Vices they do still remain.

It chanc’d this Lord a Lady fair did meet,

Her Countenance was pleasing, Speech was sweet;

And from her Eyes such wanton Glances went,

As from her Heart Love Messages had sent,

Whereby this Lord was catch’d in Cupid’s snare

How to address, he onely now takes care:

But he straight had access, and Courtships makes,

The Lady in his Courtships pleasure takes;

And pride she takes, that she could so allure

A Husband from a Wife, that was so pure

As Heavens Light, and had the praise and fame

Of being the most Fair and Virtuous Dame.

At last this Lady by her wanton Charms

Inchanted had this Lord, till in his Arms

He might embrace her in an amorous way,

His Thoughts were restless, working Night and Day

To compass his Designs, nor did he care

To lose his Wifes Affection, but did fear

His Mistris to displease, and as her Slave,

Obey’d her will in all that she would have.

But she was subtil and of Nature bad,

A crafty Wit in making Quarrels had,

For which she seemed to be Coy and Nice,

And sets her Beauty at so great a price,

That she would never yeild, unless that he

From his chast Wife would soon divorced be:

Which he to please her, from his Wife did part,

For which his Wife was grieved at the Heart,

And sought obscurely her self to hide,

And in a solitary house did bide,

As if she had a grievous Criminal been,

Or Causer was of his Adulterous sin,

And for a Penance she so strict did live

But she was Chast, and no Offence did give:

Yet she in Sorrow liv’d, no rest could finde,

Sad Melancholy Thoughts mov’d in her Minde;

Most of her time in Prayers she did spend,

Which as sweet Incense did to Heav’ns ascend;

Did often for her Husband mercy crave,

That they would pardon all his Faults, and save

Him I2r 59

Him from Destruction, and that they would give

Him happy Dayes as long as he should live.

But after he his Mistris had injoy’d,

And that his Amorous Appetite was cloy’d,

Then on his Virtuous Wife his Thoughts did run,

The later Lady he did strive to shun;

For often they did quarrel and fall out,

He gladly would be rid of her no doubt.

At last he was resolv’d his Wife to see,

And to be Friends, if that she would agree,

But when he saw his Wife, his Heart did ake,

As being guilty, all his Limbs did shake;

The terrour of his Conscience did present

To him her Wrongs, but yet to her he went.

She being set near to a Fountain low,

Her Tears did make the Stream to overflow;

Where, as he came, upon the Earth did kneel:

But in his Soul such passions did he feel

Of Shame, Fear, Sorrow, as he could not speak;

At last his Passion through his Lips did break,

Begging his pardon, and such Vows did make

Of Reformation, and that for her sake,

Would any Pain or Punishment endure,

And that no Husband should to Wife be truer.

Which when she heard, she sighing, did reply,

“You come too late, my Destiny is nigh;

My Bark of Life with Grief is over-fraught,

And ready is to sink with its own weight;

For Showers of Tears, and stormy Sighs do blow

Me to the Ports of Death, and Shades below:”

He being affrighted at the word she spake,

In hast he rose, her in his Arms did take;

Wherewith she pleas’d, and smiling, turn’d her Eye

Upon his Face, so in his Arms did dye,

And being dead, he layd her on the ground,

He in the Fountain, and her Tears, was drown’d,

Impatiently in a high discontent

There dy’d, so had a Watry Monument.

Another Lady said, such Men I hate

That wrong their Wives, and then repent too late:

I2 But I2v 60

But all Adulterers I wish might have

A violent Death, and an untimely Grave.”

The next Man’s turn to speak was one that in

The Wars was bred, and thus he did begin.

A Description of Natural Affection.

There were two potent Princes, whose great Fames

For Actions in the Wars got mighty Names:

Itchanc’d these potent Princes both did greet,

And were resolv’d in open Wars to meet,

Their Courages to try, their Strengths and Power,

Their prudent Conducts, or their fatal hour;

In short, these Armies meet, a Battle fight,

Where one side beaten was by Fortunes spight.

The Battle won, that Army routed, ran,

And for to save their life, striv’d every one;

And their Artillery they left behinde,

Each for himself a shelter hop’d to finde;

Where from pursuit the Victors did come back,

The Souldiers for to plunder were not slack;

And every Tent they search’d, and sought about

To see if they could finde some Treasure out.

To th’Princes Tent did some Commanders go,

Where they did finde an Object of much wo:

The Prince being dead, and on the ground was laid,

And by him sate a fair and sweet young Maid;

Her Beauty was so splendrous, and so bright,

Through clouds of Grief did shine like Heavens light.

Which the Commander saw, then straight did go

To let their General of this Beauty know.

Who when he came, amazed was in minde,

Such Beauty for to see, and Grief to finde:

For this fair Princess by her Father set,

Her Eyes being fix’d, her Tears his Cheeks did wet;

For leaning ov’r his Head, his Eyes down bends,

From whence her Tears upon his Face descends;

Upon his Mouth such deep-fetch’d sighs did breath,

As if therein her Soul she would bequeath;

For which this General did her admire;

Her Tears quench’d not, but kindled Loves Fire.

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With that he did command the Souldiers there

The Dead to take, the Body up to bear.

But then she spake. “For pity have remorse,

Remove not from me my dead Father’s Course;

For had not Fortune, whom he never trust

With any business, but when needs he must,

Conspir’d with Death to work his overthrow,

His Wisdome crossing her, she grew his Foe:

But all her spight could never do him harm,

For he with Prudence still himself did arm:

But when that Death assisted her design,

Did strike him dead when Battles were to joyn

His Souldiers forc’d to fight, when that their minde

Was press’d with grief, which fast the spirits did binde;

It was his Death that made him lose the day,

And you the Victorers that wear the Bayes.

But look,” said she, “his Hands now strengthless lye,

In Fight did make his Enemies to fly;

His Eyes, now shut by Death, in Life gave light

Unto his Souldiers in the Wars to fight;

His Tongue, that silenc’d is by Death’s cold hand,

In Life mov’d wisely, and could well command,

It Knowledge gave to those that little knew,

And did instruct what was the best to do;

His Heart lyes still, no Motion doth remain,

Ceas’d are the Thoughts in his well-tempered Brain;

Where in his Heart all Virtues did abide,

And in his Brain strong Reason did reside:

But all is vanquish’d now, and Life doth seem

No better than a Shadow, or a Dream.

’Tis strange in Nature to observe and see

The unproportion’d Links in Destiny;

For Man’s the wisest Creature Nature makes,

And best Extracts to form his Figure takes;

And yet so short a Life to him she gives,

He’s almost dead e’re comes to know he lives:

Yet she from Man receives the greatest praise,

He doth admire all her curious wayes;

With Wonder he her several Works doth see,

And studyes all her Laws, and each Decree,

And travels several wayes within his Minde,

His Thoughts are restless her Effects to finde:

I3 But I3v 62

But in his Travels, Death cuts him off short,

And leads him into dark Oblivions Court;

As Nature is unjust, Heaven unkinde,

It strikes the Best, the Worst doth favour finde.

My Father’s Merits might have challeng’d still

A longer Life, had it been Heavens will:

But he is dead, and I am left behinde,

Which is a torture to my troubled Minde.

If Souldiers pity have, grant my desire,

Here strike me dead, and let my Breath expire.”

Said the Victorious Prince.

“Heaven forbids all horrid Acts we shun,

For in the Field the purest Honour’s won;

We stake our Lives for Lives, and justly play

A Game of Honour on a Fighting Day;

Perchance some Cheats may be amongst the Rout,

But if they’re found, the Noblest throws them out.

But since you cannot alter Destiny,

Nor none that live, but have some Misery;

Raise up your spirits, to Heaven submit,

And do not here in Grief and Sorrow sit.

Your Father was a Souldier of great Fame,

His Valiant Deeds did get an Honoured Name;

And for his sake judge us, which Souldiers be,

To have Humanity and Civility.

Your Father he shall safely be convey’d,

That he may be by his Ancestors laid;

But you must stay yet not as Prisoner, for

You shall command and rule our Peace and War.”

She answered not in Words, her Tears did plead,

That she with her dead Father might be freed:

But her clear Advocates could not obtain

Their humble suit, but there she must remain

With the Victorious Prince; but he deny’d

As Victor, in a Triumph for to ride;

“For though the Battle I have won,” he said,

“Yet I am Prisoner to this Beautious Maid,

She is the Conqueress, therefore ’tis fit

I walk as Prisoner, she Triumphant sit.”

Then all with great Respect to her did bow,

So doth the Prince and plead, protest, and vow,

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To be her Servant, and to yeild his Life

To Death’s fell strokes, unless she’ld be his Wife.

But she still weeps, his Suit no favour gains,

Of Fates and Destiny she still complains.

“Why,” said the Prince, should you my suit deny.

Since I was not your Father’s Enemy?

Souldiers are Friends, though they each Blood do spill,

’Tis not for Spight, or any Malice ill,

But Honour to maintain, and Power to get,

And that they may in Fames house higher set:

For those of greatest Power, to Gods draw near,

For nought but Power makes Men like Gods appear.

But had I kill’d your Father in the Field,

Unto my suit in Justice you might yeild:

But I was not the Cause your Father dy’d,

For Victory doth still with him abide;

For though that Death did strike him to the Heart,

Yet his great Name and Fame will never part.

Men will suppose the loss is loss of Life,

And had he liv’d, there would be greater strife

Between our Armies; but if you’ll be mine,

Our Kingdomes in a Friendly Peace shall joyn.”

Then she began to listen, and give ear,

She of her Country in distress took care.

And in short time they were both Man and Wife,

Long did they live, and had a happy Life.

The next, a Virgins turn a Tale to tell,

For Youth and Modesty, did fit it well.

The surprizal of Death.

A company of Virgins young did meet,

Their pastime was, to gather Flowers sweet;

And white Straw hats upon their heads did wear,

And falling Feathers, which wav’d with the Air,

Fanning their Faces, like a Zephyrus winde,

Shadowing the Sun, that strove their Eyes to blinde;

And in their Hands they each a Basket held,

Which Baskets they with Fruits or Flowers fill’d.

But one amongst the rest such Beauty had,

That Venus for to change, might well be glad.

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Her Shape exact, her Skin was smooth and fair,

Her Teeth white, even set, a long curl’d Hair;

Her Nature modest, her Behaviour so,

As when she mov’d, the Graces seem’d to go.

Her Wit was quick, and pleasing to the ear,

That all who heard her speak, straight Lovers were,

But yet her words such Chast Love did create,

That all Impurity they did abate.

In every Heart or Head, where wilde Thoughts live,

She did convert, and wise Instructions give;

For her Discourse such Heavenly Seeds did sow,

That where ’twas strew’d, there Virtues up did grow.

These Virgins all were in a Garden set,

And each did strive the finest Flowers to get.

But this fair Lady on a Bank did lye

Of most choyce Flowers, which did court her Eye;

And every one did bend their Heads full low,

Bowing their Stalks, from off the Roots they grow;

And when her Hands did touch their tender Leaves,

They seem’d to kiss, and to her Fingers cleaves.

But she, as if in Nature ’twere a Crime,

Was loth to crop their Stalks in their full prime;

But with her Face close to those Flowers lay,

That through her Nostrils might their sweets convey.

Not for to rob them, for her Head was full

Of Flow’ry Phancies, which her Wit did pull:

And Posies made, the World for to present,

More lasting were, and of a sweeter scent.

But as she lay upon this pleased Bank,

For which those Flowers did great Nature thank,

Death envious grew they such Delight did take,

And with his Dart a deadly Wound did make;

A sudden Cold did seize her every Limb,

With which her Pulse beat slow, and Eyes grew dim.

Some that sate by, observ’d her pale to be,

But thought it some false light, but went to see;

And when they came she turn’d her Eyes aside,

Spread forth her Arms, then stretch’d, and sigh’d, and dy’d.

These verses damaged1–2 characters
damaged1 word in are my
lord marquiss
The frighted Virgins ran with panting breath,

To tell the sadder story of her death;

The whil’st the Flowers to her rescue bend,

And all their Med’cinable Virtues send:

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But all in vain, their power’s too weak, each head

Then droop’d, when found they could not help the Dead;

Their fresher colour will no longer stay,

But faded straight, and wither’d all away.

For Tears they dropp’d their Leaves, and thought it meet

To strew her with them as her Winding Sheet.

The Aëry Choristers hover’d above,

And sung her last sad Funeral Song of Love.

The Earth grew proud, now having so much Honour,

That Odoriferous Corps to lye upon her.

When that pure Virgins stuff dissolved in Dew,

Was the first cause new births of Flowers grew,

And added Sweets to those it did renew.

The grosser parts the Curious soon did take,

Of it transparent Pursslain they did make;

Her purer Dust they keep for to refine

Best Poets Verse, and gild there every Line;

And all Poetick Flames she did inspire,

So her Name lives in that Eternal Fire.

A Mock-Tale of the Lord Marquis
of Newcastles.

Cupid Love-birding went, his Arrow laid,

Aiming to hit a young fresh Country Maid;

Being pore-blind, his Arrow it did glance,

And hit an old-old Woman there by chance:

She presently with Love sighs shorten breath,

Groan’d so, as all the Neighbours thought it Death.

Little she had of feeling, nor no ground

To guess where Cupid us’d to make the Wound.

A long forgetfulness there was, no doubt,

Of what was Love, and all those thoughts worn out.

At last, Love rubb’d her mem’ry up, and then

She thought some threescore years ago and ten

Was wounded so, but then was in her Prime,

The Surgeon cured her was Father Time:

But he’s not skilfull for Loves Wounds, all those,

Though they seem cured, yet they’ll never close,

But break out still again; not Winters cold

Will freez them up, nor Age, though ne’er so old.

K She K1v 66

She, with Laborious Hands, and Idle Breech

Us’d to weed Gardens, and for her grown rich,

Some twenty Pounds she’d got, which she did hide

For her great, great, great Grandchild, when a Bride.

O powerfull Love to see thy fatal Curse,

Now to forget her Noble Race and Purse,

Inquires out the best Tailors in the Town

To make her Wastcoats, Petticoats, and Gown,

New Shoes of Shoemakers she did bespeak,

And bids him put three pennyworth of Creak

Into the Soles, that Dew when them fils,

Like Hero’s Buskins, chirip through the Bils.

Hunts Pedlars out, and buyes fresh Ribbons blew,

To shew that she is turn’d a Lover true.

And now those hands, not white as Venus Doves,

Not to preserve, but hide with Dog-skin Gloves,

Takes keener Nettles up, that by her stood

To rub her skin for Cheeks, but found no Blood.

No dangling Tresses there could any finde,

Sister to Time, no Locks before, behinde:

Yet smooth she was, not as the Billiard Ball,

But bald as it all over you might call.

When met her Love, he thought she smil’d to grace

Her self, when ’twas but wrinkles in her face;

And all Loves Arts she try’d, and oft she met him,

The lusty young and labouring man, to get him.

His Poverty with her Purse joyn’d their hands,

And so did enter in the Marriage Bands.

But to describe their sumptuous Marriage Feast,

Their richer Cloaths, and every honour’d Guest,

Their melting Love-songs, softer Musicks touch,

Are not to be express’d, not half so much

As you may now imagine all my skill,

And fainter Muse; too weak; nay Virgil’s quill

With that description, it would blunter grow,

And Homer’s too, with all his Furies; so

Then blush’d for shame, when saw this lovely Bride

Put them all down: Thus triumphs she in Pride.

Now after Supper, when they were both fed

Your Thoughts must go along with them to Bed:

Them being laid, he mounted now Love’s Throne.

She sigh’d with Love, then fetch’d a deeper groan,

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And so expired there, in height of Pleasure,

So left him to enjoy her long got Treasure.

And so belov’d she was, that now lyes low,

That all the Women wish’d for to dye so.

Then came a Lady young, that had not been

In that Society; and coming in,

They told her, she a Tale must pay,

Or, as a Bankrupt, she must go away.

“Truly,” said she, “I am not rich in Wit,

Nor do I know what Tales your Humours fit:

Yet in my young and budding Muse

Will draw the Seasons of the Year,

Like ’Prentice Painters, which do use

The same to make their skill appear.

But Nature is the Hand to guide

The Pencil of the Brain, and place

The Shadows so, that it may hide

All the Defects, or giv’t a grace.

But Phansie pictures in the Brain,

Not subject to the Outward Sense;

They are Imaginations vain,

Yet are they the Lifes Quintessence:”

For when Life’s gone, yet they will live,

And to the Life a Fame will give.

The Tale of the four Seasons of the Year.

The Spring is dress’d in Buds and Blossoms sweet,

And grass-green Socks she draws upon her Feet;

Of freshest Air a Garment she cuts out,

With painted Tulips fringed round about,

And lines it all within with Violets blew,

And yellow Primrose of the palest hue:

Then wears an Apron made of Lillyes white,

And lac’d about her with Rayes of Light:

Cuffs of Narcissus about her hands she tyes,

And pins them close with stings of Bees that flyes

To gather Honey-dew that lyes thereon,

If prick their Leaves, they leave their Stings upon:

Ribbins of Pinks and Gilliflowers makes

Roses both white and red, for Knots she takes.

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And when thus dress’d the Birds in Love do fall,

And chirping then do to each other call

To sing, and hop, and merry make,

And joy’d they’re all for the sweet Springs sake.

But of all Birds, the Nightingale delights

To sing the Spring to Bed in Evening Nights;

Because the Spring at Night draws in her head

Into the Earth for that she makes her Bed;

And in the Morning, when asleep she lyes,

The Nightingale doth sing to make her rise,

Annd calls the Sun to open her fair Eyes,

Who gallops fast, that he might her surprize.

But when the Spring is past her Virgins prime,

And marryed is to old bald Father Time,

The Nightingale, for grief, doth cease to sing,

And silent is till comes another Spring.

The Summer’s cloath’d in glorious Sunshine bright,

And with a obscuredone or two wordstrailing Veil of long Day light;

And Dust as Powder on her Hair doth place,

And with the Mornings Dew doth wash her Face;

A Zephyrus Winde she for a Fan doth spread

To cool her Cheeks, which are hot burning red;

And with that Heat so thirsty she doth grow,

As she drinks all the fresh sweet Springs that flow.

Then in a thundering Chariot she doth ride

For to astonish Mortals with her pride;

Flashing Lightning before her Chariot flyes,

A fluid Fire that spreads about the Skyes;

Like Princes great that in dry wayes do travel,

Have Water thrown, t’allay the Dust and Gravel.

This Fire allayes, clenses all Vapours gross,

Lest those ascend, should stop the Thunders force;

And when she from her Chariot doth alight,

Then is she waited on by Sun-beams bright;

Or else the Rayes that from the Moon do spread

As waxen Tapers, light her to her Bed,

And with refreshing Sleepe awhile doth rest,

There breathing sweet Air from her panting Breast.

Yet Summer’s proud, ambitious, high and hot,

And full of Action, idle she is not;

Cholerick she is and oft-times Quarrels make,

But yet sometimes she doth her Pleasure take;

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At high Noon with the Butter-flyes doth play,

In th’Evening with the Bats doth dance the Hay;

Or at the setting of the Sun doth fly

With Swallows swift, to keep them Company.

But if she’s cross’d, she straight malicious grows,

And in a fury Plagues on Men she throws,

Or other Sickness, and makes Beasts to dye,

And cause the Marrow in the Bones to fry.

But Creatures that with long time are grown old,

Or such as are of Constitution cold,

She nourishes, and Life she doth restore

In Flyes, Bats, Swallows, and many Creatures more:

For some do say, these Birds in Winter dye,

And in the Summer revive again to fly.

Of all the four Seasons of the full Year,

This Season doth most full and fat appear;

Her Blood is hot, and flowing as full Tide,

She’s onely fit to be Apollo’s Bride:

But she, as all young Ladies in their prime,

Doth fade and wither with old Father Time;

And all their Beauty, which they much admire,

Doth vanish soon, and quickly doth expire.

The like the Summer dryes, withers away,

No powerfull Art can make sweet Beauty stay.

The Autumn, though she’s in her fading years,

And sober, yet she pleasantly appears;

Her Garments are not deck’d with Flowers gay,

Nor are they green, like to the Month of May,

But of the colour are of dapple Deer,

Or Hares, that to a sandy ground appear:

Yet she is rich, with Plenty doth abound,

All the increase of Earth is with her found;

Most Creatures Nourishment to them doth give,

And by her Bounty, Men, Beasts, Birds do live;

Besides, the grieved Heart with Joy doth fill,

When from the plump Grapes Wine she doth distill;

And gathers Fruits, which lasting are, and sound,

Her Brows about with Sheaves of Corn is round;

Of which small Seeds, Man makes thereof some Bread,

With which the Poor and Rich are nourished.

Yet ’tis not Bounty can hinder Natures course,

For constantly she changes in one source;

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For though the Matter may be still the same,

Yet she doth change the figure of the frame;

And though in Principles she constant be,

And keeps to certain Rules, which well agree

To a wise Government, yet doth not stay,

But as one comes, another glides away:

So doth the Autumn leave our Hemisphear

To Winter cold, at which Trees shake for fear;

And in that passion all their Leaves do shed,

And all their Sap back to the Root is fled;

Like to the Blood, which from the Face doth run

To keep the Heart, lest Death should seize thereon.

Then comes the Winter, with a lowring brow,

No pleasant Recreations doth allow;

Her Skin is wrinkled, and her Blood is cold,

Her Flesh is numb, her Hands can nothing hold;

Her Face is swarthy, and her Eyes are red,

Her Lips are blew, with Palsie shakes her Head;

She often coughs, and’s very rheumatick,

Her Nose doth drop, and often doth she spit;

Her Humour’s melancholy, as cold and dry,

Yet often she in show’ring Rain doth cry,

And blustring Storms as in a passion sent,

Which on the Earth and on the Water vent;

As Rheums congeal to Flegm, the Waters so,

By thickning Cold, congeals to Ice, Hail, Snow,

Which she spits forth, upon the Earth doth lye

In lumps and heaps, which makes the Plants to dye;

She’s poor and barren, little hath to give,

For in this Season all things hardly live:

But often those who’re at the worst estate,

By change of Times they grow more fortunate:

So when the Winter’s past, then comes the Spring,

And Plenty doth restore to everything.

A Poet in the Company

Said to this Lady.

Your Fingers are Minerva’s Loom, with which

You Sense in Letters weave,

No knots or snarls you leave;

Work’s Fancyes Thread in Golden Numbers rich:

Your K4r 71

Your Breasts are Helicon, which makes a Poet

For though they do not drink,

If thereon they do think,

Their Brain is fill’d with high and sparkling Wit

Your Tongue is high Parnassus Hill, whereon

The Muses sit and sing,

Or dance in Phansie’s Rings,

Crown’d with your Rosie Lips, sweet Garland

Your Eyes Diana’s Arrows, and no doubt

Your arched Brows her Bows,

Black Ebony it shews,

From whence sweet gentle Modesty shoots out.

Your Hairs are fatal Threads, Lovers hang by;

Your Brain is Vulcan’s Net,

Fine Fancies for to get,

Which like to winged Birds, aspiring fly.

The next a Man of Scholarship profest,

He in his turn this Tale told to the rest

The Expression of the Doubts and Curiosity
of Man’s Minde.

There was a Man which much desired to know,

When he was dead, whether his Soul should go;

Whether to Heaven high, or down to Hell,

Or the Elizium Fields, where Lovers dwell;

Or whether in the Air to flee about,

Or whether it like to a Light goes out.

At last the Thoughts, the Servants to the Minde,

Which dwell in Contemplation, yet to finde

The truth, they said, no pains that we would spare

To travel every where, and thus prepare.

Each Thought did cloath it self with Language fit

For to enquire, and to dispute for it,

And Reason they did take to be their Guide:

Then straight unto a Colledge they did ride,

Where K4v 72

Where Scholars dwell, and learned Books are read,

The living Works of the most Wise who’re dead.

There they enquired, the truth for to know,

And every one was ready for to shew

Through every several Work, and several Head,

And several tongues a several path still leade,

Where all the thoughts were scattered several wayes,

Some tedious long, others like short Essayes.

But Reason, which they took to be their Guide

With rest and silence quietly did bide

Till their return, who ragged and all torn,

Came back as naked as when they were born;

For in their travels hard disputes had past,

Yet all were forc’d for to return at last.

But when that Reason saw their poor condition,

Naked of sense, and words, and expedition,

And expectation too, and seem’d all sad,

But some were frantick, and despairing, mad.

He told them, they might wander all about,

But he did fear, the truth would ne’r finde out.

Which when they heard, with Rage they angry grew,

And straight from Reason they themselves withdrew.

Then all agreed they to the Court would go,

In hopes the Courtiers they the truth might know;

The Courtiers laugh’d, and said they could not tell;

They thought the Soul in Sensual Pleasures dwell,

And that it had no other Heaven or Hell;

The Soul they slight, but wish the Body well.

This answer made the Thoughts not long to stay

Among the Courtiers, but soon went their way.

Then to the Army straight they did repair,

Hoping the truth of Souls they should finde there;

And of the Chief Commander they enquire,

Who willing was to answer their desire.

They said for certain, that all Souls did dye

But those that liv’d in Fame or Infamy.

Those that Infamous were, without all doubt

Were damn’d, and from reproach should n’er get out:

But such whose Fame their Noble Deeds did raise,

Their Souls were blest with an Eternal Praise;

And those that dy’d, and never mention’d were,

They thought their Souls breath’d out to nought but Air.

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With that, the Thoughts were very much perplext,

Then did resolve, the Chymists should be next

Which they would ask; so unto them did go,

To be resolved, if they of Souls did know.

They said unto the Thoughts, when Bodyes dye,

Was Souls the Elixer, and pure Chymistry;

“For Gold,” said they, “can never wasted be.

Nor can it alter from its purity;

’Tis Eternal, and shall for ever last,

And as pure Gold, so Souls do never wast.

Souls are the Essence, and pure spirits of Gold,

Which never change, but shall for ever hold;

And as the Fire the pure from dross divides,

So Souls in death are clens’d and purifi’d

From grosser parts, the Body, and no doubt

The Soul the spirits Death doth vapour out;

And is the essence of great Natures store,

All Matter hath this essence, less or more.”

After the Thoughts had mused long, in fine,

Said they, “we think the Soul is more divine

Then from a Metal’d Earth for to proceed,

Well known it is all Metals Earth doth breed;

And though the Gold the purest Earth it be,

Being refin’d by Heat to that degree

Of pureness, by which it long doth last,

Yet may long time and labour make it wast,

To shew ’tis not eternal, and perchance

Some slight experience may that work advance

Which Man hath not yet found; but Time,” said they,

“May Chymists teach,” and so they went away.

But travelling about, they weary grew,

To rest a while, they for a time withdrew.

The search of truth into a Cottage went,

Where liv’d an aged Couple well content,

A Man and Wife, which pious were, and old,

To them the Thoughts their tedious Journeys told,

And what they went to seek, the truth to finde

Concerning Souls, to tell unto the Minde;

“For we desire,” said they, “the truth to know,

From whence the Soul proceeds, or where ’twill go,

When parted from the Body,” the Old Man said,

Of such imployment he should be afraid,

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Lest Nature or the Gods should angry be

For his presumption and curiosity.

If it be Natures works, there is no doubt

But she doth transmigrate all things about,

And who can follow Natures steps and pace,

And all the subtil ways that she doth trace?

Her various Forms, which curious Motions makes,

Or what Ingredients for those Forms she takes?

“Who knows,” said he, “first Cause of any thing,

Or what the Matter is whence all doth spring?

Or who at first did Matter make to move

So wisely, and in order, none can prove;

Nor the Decrease, nor Destinies can finde.

Which are the Laws that every thing doth binde.

But who can tell that Nature is not Wife

For mighty Jove? and he begets the life

Of every Creature which she breeds and brings

Forth sevral Forms, each Figure from her Spring.

Thus Souls and Bodyes in one Figure joyn,

Though Bodyes mortal be, the Soul’s divine,

As being begot by Jove, and so

The purest part of Life is Souls, we know;

For the innated part from Jove proceeds,

The grosser part from Natures self proche breeds

And what is more innated than Mankinde,

Unless his Soul, which is of higher kinde.

Thus every Creature to Jove and Nature are

As Sons and Daughters, and their Off-spring fair;

And as their Parents of them taketh care,

So they, as Children, ought not for to fear

How they dispose of them, but to submit

Obediently to all that they think fit;

Not to dispute, or questions making still,

But shew obedience to their Makers will.

Man asketh blessing of his Father Jove,

And Jove doth seem Mankinde the best to love

And Nature she her blessing doth bestow,

When she gives Health, makes Plenty for to flow.

The blessings which Jove gives unto Mankinde

Are peacefull Thoughts, and a still quiet Minde;

And Jove is pleas’d, when that we serve his Wife,

Our Mother Nature, with a Virtuous Life;

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For Moral Virtues are the Ground whereon

All Jove’s Commands and Laws are built upon.

Thoughts trouble not your selves, said he which way,

The Soul shall go to Jove, and Nature pay:

For Temperance, wherein the Life is blest,

That Temperance doth please the Life the best;

Intemperance doth torture Life with pain,

And what is superfluous to us is vain

Therefore return, and temper well the Minde,

For you the truth of Souls shall finde.”

At last came Reason, which had been their Guide,

And brought them Faith, in her they did confide:

Taking their leave, away with Faith they ride,

And Faith ev’r since doth with the Minde reside:

A Lady which all Vanities had left,

Since she of Youth and Beauty was bereft;

She said, that Pride in Youth was a great sin,

Of which a Tale did tell, thus entring in.

A Description of the Fall of foolish and
self-conceited Pride.

There was a Lady rich, that sate in state,

And round about her did her servants wait;

Where every tongue did walk still in their turn,

But in the wayes of Flattery they run.

“You are,” said one, “the finest drest to day,”

“A Heavenly Creature,” did another say;

“Your Skin is purer far than Lillyes white,

And yet is clear and glassy as the Light;

And from your Eyes such splendrous Rayes do spread,

As they seem like a Glory round your Head;

Your Wit is such, ’tis supernatural,

And all that hear you speak, straight Lovers fall;

The sound but of your Voyce charms every Ear,

And when you speak, your Breath perfumes the Air.”

Thus falsly flatt’ring her, she so proud grew,

As scornfull looks on every Object threw;

All Men she scorned that did to her address,

And laught at those that Lovers did profess.

L2 Her L2v 76

Her Senses for to please, she was so nice,

That nothing serv’d, but what was of great price.

Thus did she live in Luxury, Pride, and Ease.

And all her thoughts were still her self to please.

She never pray’d unto the Gods on high,

For she did think her self a Deity,

That all Mankinde was made her to admire,

And ought her Favours most for to desire,

That every knee that bow’d not to her low,

Or their demeanours did not reverence shew;

She thought them Beasts that did not Merit know,

Or that her Frowns should work their overthrow,

Her Smiles and Frowns she thought such power had

As Destiny, to work both good and bad.

At last the Gods, that allwayes have an eye

Upon the Earth, which all things do descry

Amongst poor Mortals, they this Lady spy’d,

Whose Heart was swoll’d, and Thoughts were big with Pride,

Begot by Pluto’s Wealth, and Nature’s Paint,

Bred in the Soul, which makes it sick and faint.

But Pride is nurs’d still by the Senses five,

From what each Sense it sucks, keeps it alive:

But if no Nourishment it gets from those,

As neither touch, taste, scent pleas’d, sound, or shews,

It faints and pines away as starv’d, so dyes,

And in a Grave of Melancholy lyes.

But, as I said, when Gods poor Mortals view’d,

They for their sins with punishment pursu’d.

Then with this Lady they did first begin,

Many ill accidents they at her fling.

First, they did set her house and goods on fire,

Where her rich Furniture did soon expire:

Then Envy sought all wayes to pull her down,

And tax’d her Land, as due unto the Crown;

And in that Suit great sums of Money vast

Lawyers ingross’d, which made those sums to wast;

And when those Lawyers got all that she had,

They cast her Suit, as if her Cause was bad;

By which her Lands she lost, then onely left

Her rich with Beauty, but of Lands bereft;

In which she pleasure took, although but poor,

Of Fortunes Goods, of Natures Gifts had store.

But L3r 77

But when the Gods did see her still content,

At last unto her Body Sickness sent;

She patient was, her Beauty still did last:

But when that they their Judgements on that cast,

Making a Grave to bury Beauty in,

Which Beauty once did tempt the Saints to sin;

Because her Face so full of Pock-holes were,

That none could judge that Beauty once dwelt there.

Then did she sit and weep, turn’d day to Night,

Asham’d she was to shew her Face the Light.

Time, an Ingraver, draws both age and youth;

His colours mix’d with Oil of Health, layes on,

The plump smooth Youth he pencils then upon;

Shadows of Age he placeth with much skill,

Making the hollow places darkest still.

But Time is slow, and leisure he doth take,

No price will hasten him his Works to make:

But accidental Chance, who oft doth jar

With aged Time, and then some Works doth mar.

But when her Wealth was gone, and state was down,

Then did her friends and servants on her frown;

So far from flattering, or professors be,

As they did use her most uncivilly;

Would rail against her, spightful words throw out,

Or had she been but guilty, would no doubt

Betray her life, such natures have mankinde,

That those in misery no friends can finde:

For Fortunes favour onely Friendships make,

But few are Friends onely for Virtues sake,

In Fortunes frowns they will not onely be

A Neuter, but a deadly Enemy,

Nay Devils are for to torment the Minde,

Where no more mischief ’gainst the Body finde.

But after she had mourn’d three hundred dayes,

Considering Natures Fortunes various wayes,

She did repent, weeping for what was past,

Imploring Gods to pity her at last.

“Good Gods, forgive my Vanity and Pride,

Let not my Soul with sinfull spots be dy’d;

Let thy great mercies skour those spots off clean,

That by thy Justice may no spots be seen.

L3 Consider, L3v 78

Consider, Lord, the Works that Nature makes,

The Matter, Motion, and the Form she take,

The Grounds and Principles on which she builds,

The Life and Death into all things distils,

Is various still, and what she doth compose,

Nothing but wilde Inconstancy still shews.

Nor is it onely the substantial part

That is compos’d thus by her Curious Art,

But what we call Immortal as the Soul,

Doth various passions appetites controul;

And as all Bodyes that are young, want strength,

And wait for time to give them bredth and length;

So doth the Soul want Understanding too,

And knows not what is best to think or do:

Wherefore, great Jove, I never shall despair

Of thy sweet Mercy, nor yet Devils fear.”

To punish the ignorant wayes Youth runs,

Which Age by long experienc’d Knowledge shuns:

But Age oft times as faulty as Youths be

Corrupted with bad principles they see;

And length of time and Custome makes them shew

As if in Man they naturally grew.

But to conclude, the time she had to live

Did dedicate, and to the Gods did give.

Though young, into a Nunnery she went,

Her Vows unto the Gods she did present.

Her Dayes not being long, she soon there dy’d,

And now her Soul with Angels doth reside

For with her Penance, Tears, and Contrite Spirit,

She wash’d away her Sins, and Heaven did merit.

The next Tale when you reade, it will discover

The fortunate, or unfortunate Lover.

A L4r 79

A Mock-Tale of the Marquis of Newcastles,
which serves but as Shadows
to set off the rest. And confesseth
ingeniously, that he was never good at
telling a Tale, for he loves Truths too
well. But he sayes, his Readers will believe
him without swearing.

A young and lusty Cheshire Lad did move

In Venus Sphear, and was so fill’d with Love

When first he saw a lovely Lass at Chester,

Her Badge of Christianity was Hester.

So beautifull and fair she did appear,

Fresh as the welcome Spring to the New Year,

And Odoriferous as Flowers Birth,

As fair as new-born Lillyes from the Earth.

This set the young Mans heart in Loves Flames Fire;

Struck dumb in Love, turn’d all now to admire,

At last Love found a Tongue, which did not fail

To burst out violently, and thus to rail,

Cursing now partial Nature, that did give

More Beauty to her, than elsewhere doth live.

Bankrupt in Beauty, since her store is gone,

Mankinde condemn’d to foul ones now, or none.

“Was Nature lavish, or else made the theft

Upon her self, since she had nothing left

Of what is handsome? so I now do finde,

He enjoys thee, enjoys all Woman-kinde,

For Beauty, Favour, and what’s height of Pleasure,

Since thou art Natures Store-house, and her Treasure.

O love me then, since all my hopes are crost,

If I enjoy you not, I’m wholly lost,

For what I can call happiness, nay worse,

My Life then to me’s but a fatal Curse:

But if you yeild, I’ll bless Dame Natures gift,

And Bounty to you, since ’twas all her drift,

To make her Master-piece in you, and vex

The envious Females, angring all your Sex;

And if her Bounty to you, you give me,

I shall be Deified in Love by thee

Here L4v 80

Here on my knees I beg thy Love, thus low,

Untill I have it, my knees here shall grow:

Therefore be kinde.” She answer’d with sweet eyes,

Which spoke, not speaking for to bid him rise;

And then discours’d with modest blushes so,

As that did tell him all her Heart did know.

Trembling and shaking with Loves palsied tongue,

With broken sighs, and half words it was strung;

Love’s Commas, full Points, and Parenthesis,

And this Loves Rhetorick, Oratory is

With Loves pale difficulty then afraid,

She softly said, “O I’m a tender Maid,

And never heard such Language, you’ll deceive me,

And now I wish I could wish you would leave me.

Why d’ye inchant a silly Maid: alass,

I never saw such Beauty in my Glass

And yet I’ve heard of flatt’ring Glasses too,

But nothing flatters like you Men that woo;

Your Tongues, Loves Conjuration, without doubt

Circles me here in love, cannot get out

By your Loves Magick,” whispering: Then did yield,

And said, “you’ve conquer’d, and have won the Field.”

Such Joy between them such new Passions rais’d,

Which made the God of Love himself amaz’d;

Since by no Tongue or Pen can be exprest,

Cupid and Hymen, ne’r hop’t such a feast.

But see the fate of business, which doth move

So cross, “For Business hath no sense of Love.”

O thou dull Business, yet some Statsmen pry

Into Loves Secrets with a glancing Eye:

But here our Lover was arraign’d to stand

Condemn’d to Business, that in Ireland

Necessity doth urge him. That word, part,

So cruel was, it strook each others heart,

Which inwardly did bleed with sorrows grief,

Since nothing now but hopes were their relief.

Sadly he goes aboard Love fills his Sails,

And Cupid with his wings fans gentle Gales

To waft him over, he thus thought to please

His wounded Lover ov’r those rocky Seas.

Love would not leave him, nor was he content

Unless this dangerous passage with him went:

In M1r 81

In the mean time, his Mistris did commit

Her self to sorrow, and with her to sit

As her close Prisoner, this was all her end

And grieved more than Widows do pretend.

Safely is landed now our Lover ov’r,

And Cupid with him, on the Irish Shore.

Love is so various, which some Lovers see,

Now Love an Irish Cupid’s turned to be;

And takes all memory thus from our Lover

Of his first Mistris, and doth now discover

Love’s new Plantation in the Irish pale,

In Love’s rich Island there, which doth not fail

To take our Lover, and inflame him more

Under an Irish Mantle, than what’s store

Of Gowns of Cloth of Gold, Curls, painted Art

Cheats Love, when “Simple Nature wounds Loves Heart.”

This change of Love is blown so up and down,

By Fames loud Trumpet, through all Chester Town:

The Women gossip’d it, and could not hold

Till to his former Mistris they it told.

This was the first time that she smil’d to see

Impossible reports of him to be;

They might as well say, Phœbus gives no light,

Or Stars to fall, or make a Day of Night,

As he inconstant was; yet Love doth doubt

Not doubting, yet inquires all about,

And set her Love-spyes to inquire anew:

But those reports each minute stronger grew;

So she resolv’d her self to know the truth,

And was disguis’d in Cloaths now like a Youth,

And went in Cavalier: The gentle Winde

Did favour her, and landed to her Minde.

The Port was Dublin, and could not forbear

To make inquiries for her Love, and there

She found him at an Inne. He then began

To take such liking to his Countryman,

All his discourse inquiring for his ends,

To know the welfare of his English Friends;

Which she so fully satisfied, as he

Was now inamour’d of her company;

And was so fond, in her took such delight,

As supp’d, and lay together too that night,

M Never M1v 82

Never suspecting her his Mistris, then

Blindly went on, and took her for a Man

So full of love and friendship, could not hold,

But to her all his Irish love he told,

Desiring her to go along and see

This Miracle of Beauty, which was she;

And so she did. Her love turn’d now disdain;

To see his falshood, and no love remain;

So base, unworthy, and unconstant too,

As now began to think what she should do,

And quenched her Passion, which is wise and better

Than Loves complaints: so writ to him a letter

Of her whole Voyage, and Loves constant History

All her Designs, disguises in Loves Myst’ry;

And left this Letter in the Window, so

Three or four dayes it was ’fore he did know,

Or found it out. In the mean time she’s gone,

And shipp’d for England leaving him alone.

When found her Letter, then such Passions grew

Stronger upon him, than ev’r Lover knew;

Resolv’d the foaming Billows to embrace,

Those liquid steps of hers he meant to trace,

And lay him self in pickled tears of Love

Now at her feet, to see what that would move:

But all in vain, he thought too long had tarry’d,

When landed, found the same day she was marry’d;

Fell in such ectasies, cursing his Fate,

The Ship and Winds, that made him come so late.

With Loves new hopes his Sails he fill’d, and then

Invoked God Neptune to go back again;

And all the passage as he went along,

Challenged the Mermaids in a loving Song;

With Loves assurances so overjoy’d,

As now his loving Heart was not annoy’d,

But fill’d with Pleasure, and with all Delight,

Thinking t’embrace his Irish Love that Night.

No sooner landed so――he thought to woo

His Mistris, but he found her marry’d too.

Cursing the Stars of his Nativity,

Thus short of Wedlock at both ends to be,

Made him grow desperate and, as they say,

Then in despair he made himself away

Upon M2r 83

Upon a Wench, and some swear without doubt,

That there he knock’d the Brains of’s Cupid out;

So murther’d Love, and there he did enroul

Each one a Fool, with a Platonick Soul;

And so despis’d and scorn’d the old God Hymen

That with so easy words so long did tye men,

To make them Galley-slaves in Marriage, so

Ty’d in his Chains, condemn’d for life to row

In Wedlocks Galley―― “Give me freedome then,

Thy Godhead I invoke, whil’st foolish Men

To Love and Hymens Prisons there do sit,

Justly committed for their want of Wit:

For he’s a Fool that’s ty’d when might be free;”

And thus he rav’d, and talk’d nonsense you see.

As he that writ this story, you may mend it,

So for his sake, and yours, and mine, I’ll end it.

A Lady said, his Tale of Love did tell,

And she a Tale of Death would fit it well;

“For Death”, said she, “untyes the Lovers knot,”

“And from his Bow he deadly Arrows shot.”

A lady on her Death-bed panting lay,

She call’d her Friends, and thus to them did say;

“Farewell my dearest Friends, for I must go

Unto a place which you nor I yet know;

May be my Spirits will wander in the shade

Of glimmering light, which is by Moonshine made

Or in my Tomb in peace may lye asleep

So long as Ashes in my Urn doth keep;

Or else my Soul, like Birds, it may have wings,

Or like to Hercules Flyes, that want their stings.

But howsoever, Friends, grieve not nor cry,

For fear my Soul should be disturb’d thereby;

Cloath not your Thoughts with Melancholy black,

Call not your Grief unto remembrance back;

But let your Joyes a Resurrection have,

Call’d forth by Comfort from the sorrowfull Grave;

Let not Delight intombed lye

In the sad Heart, or weeping Eye;

Let no pale Grief my Soul affright,

Shrouded in Melancholy, as dark Night:

M2 But M2v 84

But Death,” she said, “I fear him not,”

So turn’d her head, and Death her shot,

Then on a Cypress Hearse was laid forth dead,

As if Death scorn’d, aside was turn’d her head;

By cruel Death her arms were careless flung.

Her hands over the sides as strengthless hung;

Her eyes were clos’d as if she lay asleep,

Though she was pale, her Countenance was sweet.

Her Elogie was thus,

Tears rain apace, and so a River make,

To drown all Grief within a watry Lake;

Make Seas of Tears, for Winde of Sighs to blow

Salt Billows up, the Eyes to overflow;

Let Ships of Patience traffick on the Main,

To bring in Comfort to sad Hearts again.

The next turn, a Man,

And he thus began.

The Silk-worm and the Spider houses make.

All their Materials from their Bowels take;

They cut no Timber down, nor carve they stone,

Nor buy they Ground to build their Houses on:

Yet they are Curious, made with Art and Care,

Like Lovers, who build Castles in the Air,

Which every puff of Winde is apt to break,

As Imaginations, when Reason’s weak.

They said, his Tale was short,

He answer Made, “I’ll piece it out,”

And thus he said.

The Silk-worm digs her Grave as she doth spin,

And makes her Winding-sheet to lap her in;

And from her Bowels takes a heap of Silk,

Which on her Body as a Tomb is built;

Out of her Ashes doth her young ones rise,

Bequeaths her Life to them, and so she dyes.

They onely take that Life to spin a Death,

For as they winde up Silk, they winde out Breath.

Thus, rather than do nought, or idle be,

They’ll work, and spin out Lifes small Thread we see.

When M3r 85

When all their work is done, ready to dye,

Their Wings are grown, for Life away to fly.

The Silk-worm is first a small Seed, then turns
into a Worm, at last grows to have Wings like a
Fly, but lives not to make use of them; as soon as
she receives Life, she spins a Ball of Silk all about
her self; and when she is grown to be a Fly, she
makes a hole to come out, and dyes in the passage;
the seed she leaves is the generation of her young;
and like a Phœnix, they revive after her death.

The Women said, the Men made such dispatch

In telling Tales, like Dogs that Bones do snatch.

But howsoev’r, a Woman did begin

To tell a Tale, and thus she entred in:

A Description of the Passion of Love
mis-placed.

A Lady on the Ground a mourning lay,

Complaining to the Gods, and thus did say:

“You Gods,” said she, “why do you me torment?

Why give you Life, without the Minds content?

Why do you Passions in a Minde create?

Then leave it all to Destiny and Fate;

With knots and snarls they spin the Thread of Life,

Then weave it cross, and make a web of strife.

Come Death, though Fates are cross, yet thou’rt a Friend,

And in the Grave dost peace and quiet send.”

It chanc’d a Gentleman that way came by,

And seeing there a weeping Beauty lye;

“Alas, dear Lady, why do you so weep,

Unless your Tears you mean the Gods shall keep?

Jove will present those Tears to Juno fair,

For Pendants, and for Neck-laces to wear;

And so present that Breath to Juno fair,

That she may allwayes move in perfum’d Air;

Forbear, forbear, make not the World so poor,

Send not such Riches, for the Gods have store.”

M3 I M3v 86

“I am,” said she, “to whom Fortunes a Foe;

Crossing my Love, and works my overthrow,

A Man which to Narcissus might compare

For Youth and Beauty, and the Graces fair

Doth him adorn, on him my love is plac’d,

But his neglect doth make my life to wast;

My soul doth mourn, my thoughts no rest can take,

And by his scorn doth me unhappy make.”

With that she cry’d, “O Death,” said she, “come quick,

And in my heart thy leaden Arrow stick.”

“Take comfort, Lady green, nor weep no more,

For Nature handsome Men hath more in store;

Besides, dear Lady, Beauty will decay,

And with that Beauty, Love will flee away;

If you take time, this heat of Love will wast,

Because ’tis onely on a Beauty plac’d:

But if your Love did from his Virtue spring,

You might have lov’d, though not so fond have been.

The love of Virtue is for to admire

The Soul, and not the Body to desire;

That’s a gross Love, which onely dull Beasts use,

But noble Man to love the Soul will choose;

Because the Soul is like a Deity,

There pure Love will live eternally.”

“O Sir, but Nature hath the Soul so fix’d

Unto the Body, and such Passions mix’d,

That nothing can divide or disunite,

Unless that Death will separate them quite;

For when the Senses in Delights agree,

Binds fast the Soul, makes it a Slave to be.”

He answered.

“If that the Soul should give consent

In every thing the Senses to content,

No Peace, but War amongst Mankinde will be,

Ruine and Desolation would have Victory;

Few Men can call or challenge what’s his own,

For he would Master be that was most strong.

Lady, love Virtue, and let Beauty dye,

And in the Grave of Ruins let it lye.”

With that she rose, and with great joy, said she,

“Farewell, fond Love, and foolish Vanity.”

The M4r 87

The Men condemn’d the Tale, because, said they,

None but a Fool would preach so, Wise Men pray.

“Ladyes, but hear me,” did another say.

To love but one, is a great fault,

For Nature otherwise is taught;

She caus’d Varieties for us to taste,

And other Appetites in us she plac’d:

And caus’d dislike in us to rise,

To surfet when we gormandize;

For of one Dish we glut our palat,

Although it be but of a Salat.

When Salomon the Wise did try

Of all things underneath the Skye,

Allthough he found it Vanity,

Yet by it Nature made us free;

For by the change, her Works do live

By several Forms that she doth give:

So that Inconstancy is Natures play,

And we, her various Works, must her obey.

A Woman said, that Men were foolish Lovers,

And whining Passions often times discovers;

“They’re full of thoughts,” said she, “yet never pleas’d,

Allwayes complaining, and yet never eas’d;

They sigh, they mourn, they groan, they make great moan,

They’ll sit cross legg’d, with folded arms alone.

Sometimes their dress is careless with despair,

With hopes rais’d up, as costly rich and rare,

Setting their looks and faces in a frame,

Their garb’s affected by their Mistris name;

Flattering their loves, forswear, or else they boasts

What valiant deeds they’ve done in Forreign Coasts;

What hard adventures, and through dangers run,

Such acts as Hercules had never done;

That every one that hears, doth fear their name

And every tongue that speaks, sounds forth their fame;

And thus their tongues extravagantly move,

Caus’d by vain-glorious foolish amorous love,

Which onely the masculine Sex do prove.”

But M4v 88

But when their Raillery was past,

The Tale upon a Man was cast:

Then crying peace to all that talking were

To hold their tongues, and each to lend an ear

To lissen to a Tale, their words forbear.

A Man amongst the rest was somewhat old,

They said to him, “your Tale you have not told;”

“Alas,” said he, “my Memory is bad,

And I have none so good as you have had”

Then musing a short time, thus did begin;

“I hope,” said he, “my Tale may credit win.”

A Description of Civil Wars.

A kingdome which long time had live in Peace,

Her People rich with Plenty, fat with Ease,

With Pride were haughty grown, Pride Envy bred,

From Envy Factions grew, then Mischief spread;

And Libels every where were strew’d about,

Which after soon a Civil War broke out.

Some for the Commons fought, some for the King,

And great disorder was ’mongst every thing;

Battles were lost and won on either side,

Where Fortune ebb’d and flow’d, like to a Tide;

At last the Commons won, and then astride

Fierce Tyrannie on Noble Necks did ride

All Monuments pull’d down, that stood long time,

All Ornaments were then thought a great Crime;

No Law did plead, unless the Martial Law,

The Sword did rule, and keep them all in aw;

No Prayers offer’d to the Gods on high,

All Ceremony in the Dust did lye;

Nothing was done in Order, Truth, and Right,

Nought govern’d then but Malice, Spleen, and Spight.

But mark how justly Gods do punish Men

To make them humble, and to bow to them:

Though they had Plenty, and thereof did eat,

They relish’d not that good and savoury Meat;

Because their Conscience did them so torment,

For all their Plenty they were discontent;

They took no rest, Cares so oppress’d their Minde,

No Joy nor Comfort in the World could finde.

When N1r 89

When drowsie sleep upon their eyes did set,

Then fearful Visions in their dreams they met;

In Life no pleasure take, yet fear to dye,

No mercy can they hope from Gods on high.

O serve the Gods, and then the Minde will be

Allwayes in peace, and sweet tranquillity.

A Woman said, “a Tale I mean to tell,

That in these Wars unto a Cross befell.”

An antient Cross liv’d in our Fathers time,

With as much Fame, as did the Worthyes nine;

No harm it did, nor injury to none,

But dwelt in peace, and quietly alone;

On Times nor Government did not complain,

But stood stone-still, not stirr’d in no Kings reign;

Both Winters Snow, and Summers scorching Sun

He did endure, and urin’d was upon:

Yet peacefull Nature, nor yet humble Minde

Shall not avoyd rude Ignorance that’s blinde

That superstitiously bears down all things

Which smell but of Antiquity, or springs

From Noble Deeds, nor love, nor take delight

In Laws, or Justice, hating Truth and Right;

But Innovations love, for that seems fine,

And what is new, adore they as divine;

That makes them so neglect the Gods above,

For time doth waste both their respect and love.

And so this Cross, poor Cross, all in a rage

They pull’d down quite, the fault was onely Age.

Had it been gilded gloriously and brave,

Then Vanity for an excuse might have:

But he was poor, his Morter all off worn,

Which time had eaten off, as Dogs had torn

The flesh from bones of Hares, or harmless Sheep,

Or like to Skeletons, that Scholars keep:

If they had pious been, it might have stood

To mollifie the Minds of Men to good:

But they were wicked, hating everything

That by example might to goodness bring:

Then down they pull’d it, leaving not one stone

Upon another, for it to be known

N To N1v 90

To after Ages, for the Ground lyes bare,

That none can know once Antient Cross stood there.

Then said a Man, “I can this Tale well fit,

For I a Tale can tell that’s like to it.”

In former times, when false Devotion reign’d,

A Church was built, although to use profan’d,

Was Consecrated as Diana’s right,

Who was their Goddess of the Moon-shine bright.

But afterwards when Truth with Zeal did flame,

It Christned was, and bore Jove’s mighty name,

And dedicated to the Sun above,

Then marryed was, became his Spouse and Love.

Long did she live in duty, peace, and zeal,

Became an Honour to the Common-weal;

Was curiously adorn’d, within, without,

The Choire all hung with Hangings rich about;

With Marble Tombs and Statues carv’d and cut,

Wherein the Bodyes of good Saints were put.

There polish’d Pillars ’long the Iles did stand,

And arched Roofs built by a skilfull hand;

With painted Windows plac’d on either side,

At every end were Gates, large, open, wide;

And all the inside was most bravely gilt,

And all the outside with Free stone was built:

There Choristers did sing each several note,

And Organs loud did answer every throat;

And Priests there taught Men how to pray and live,

Rewards and Punishments which Jove did give.

But mark, this Temple was destroy’d by sin,

Since they did leave to worship Jove therein;

Because this Church profan’d by sinfull Men.

Then made a Stable, and for Thieves a Den.

No surer mark the Gods on Men do frown,

As to give leave to pull their Temples down.

A lady said, these Wars her Soul did shake,

And the remembrance made her Heart to ake.

“My Brother then was murther’d in cold Blood,

Incircled round with Enemies he stood;

Where N2r 91

Where he, like to a fixed Star, shin’d bright,

They like to black and pitchy Clouds of Night;

He like the Sun, his Courage like that heat;

Their envy, like bad Vapours, strove to beat

His Light of Honour out, but pow’rfull Fame

Did throw their spight back on their heads with shame;

And though they struck his Body, not his Minde,

For that in Death through all their Malice shin’d;

He Valiant was, his Spirits knew no fear,

They never chil’d, when in a Battle were,

And strove to give more blows than safety sought,

His Limbs most vigour had when that he fought;

He spoke not loud, nor sung, his fear to hide,

With silence march’d, and quietly did ride,

Viewing the Armyes with a watchfull eye,

And carefull was, Advantages to spye.

If that his Souldiers chanc’d to run away,

He ran not after, as to make them stay,

As some Commanders, which will call and run

After the Souldiers, for them to return:

But when once gone, seldome returne again,

But with their Souldiers they will safe remain.

But he amongst his Foes like Earth was fix’d,

Or like to Fire, himself was intermix’d,

Within their solid Bodyes did divide,

Pulling their Fabrick down on either side;

Untill his Mercy did for Favour pray

Unto his Courage, so to run away.

He made them know he was a Souldier good,

Train’d up in Wars, the Art he understood;

Besides, his Genius was prompt thereunto,

Wit, skill, Invention, knew the best to do;

Which made the Foe more one wordobscuredfierce his life to take,

For fear that he their ruine soon would make:

For they, as soon as had them in their power,

Like greedy Vultures, did his Life devour;

He stood their Rage, his Courage knew no fear,

Nor on grim Death with Terrour did he stare,

But did embrace him with a Generous Minde,

With Noble Thoughts, and Kisses that were kinde;

Vollyes of Shot did all his Body tear,

Where his Blood’s spilt, the Earth no Grass will bear.

N2 As N2v 92

As if for to revenge his Death, the Earthe

Was curs’d with Barrenness even from her Birth.

And though his Body in the Grave doth lye,

His Fame doth live, and will eternally.

His Soul’s Immortal, and so is his Fame,

His Soul in Heaven doth live, and here his Name.”

The next time was a Man his turn to speak,

Who said, that Civil Wars made Rich Men break;

Populate Kingdomes, that do flourish well

In Peace and Plenty, they to ruine fell.

When I, with grief, unto remembrance bring

The blessed time Men liv’d with a good King;

To think at first how happy such do reign,

And in sweet Peace such Kingdomes do remain;

Where Magistrates do sit in Justice Throne,

Few Crimes committed, Punishments scarce known;

The Nobles liv’d in state, and high degree,

All happy, even to the Peasantry;

Where easy Laws, no Tax to make them poor,

All live with Plenty, full in every Store;

They Customes have to recreate the Minde,

Not barbarous, but civil, gentle, kinde;

And those where Chance and Fortune bad do fall

Have means straight given to be kept withall;

Their Lands are fertil, and their Barns are full,

Orchards thick planted, from whence Fruit may pull;

Store of Cattle feeding in Meadows green,

Where Chrystal Brooks run every Field between;

Where Cowslips growing, which makes Butter yellow,

And fatted Beasts, two inches thick with Tallow;

And many Parks for fallow Deer to run,

Shadow’d with Woods, to keep them from the Sun

And in such Kingdomes, Beasts, Fowl, Fish, have store.

Those that industrious are, can nev’r be poor.

But O sad Fate and Fortune, if it chance

The Sword of Civil War for to advance;

As when Rebellions, like a watry Flood,

Ov’rflows all Monarchy in Royal Blood,

Builds Aristocracy with cruel hands,

On unjust grounds of Tyrannie it stands.

Then N3r 93

Then into wicked States such Kingdomes go,

Where Virtue’s beaten out, no truth they know;

And all Religion flyes away for fear,

And Atheism is preached every where.

Their Magistrates by Bribes do govern all,

No Suit is heard, but what Injustice call;

For Covetousness and Malice plead at Bar

Against poor Honesty, with whom they jar;

Calamity doth finde no Pity, for

All Pity’s buried in a Civil War.

A Ladyes turn was next,

Which told this Tale perplext.

She said, “I over Sea to happ’ and went,

My Husband being then in Banishment;

His estate gone, and being very poor,

I thought some means Compassion might restore:

But when I ask’d, no pity could I finde,

Hard were their Hearts, and cruel every Minde.”

“Fye,” saith a Man, “you do all orders break,

So long on Melancholy subjects speak.”

The Prologue to the Beggars Marriage.

I’ve serv’d two Prenticeships, and now am made

Free of the Beggars Company to trade;

My Stock, in secret to your Ear I speak,

Is such, as I am sure I shall not break:

Let Boreas burst his Cheeks, and the Sea roar,

The Beggars Bark can nev’r be tumbled ov’r.

What fitter subject for my Muse can be,

Than make Descriptions of our Company?

The Beggars Theme too well my Fortunes fit,

My Begg’rly Phansie too, and so my Wit.

N3 The N3v 94

The Marquis of Newcastles Description
of The Beggars Marriage.

Whileome there was an aged Beggar old,

Who in his time full fourscore Winters told;

His head all frozen, beard long, white as snow,

With a staffs prop, unneath else might he go;

With bleared eyne, all parched, dry, and cold;

With shaking Palsey, little could he hold;

His cloaths so tatter’d, for they were so worn,

Older than he, in many pieces torn;

The subtill’st Brain, and pryingst Eye, those seen,

Both could not guess what stuff they’d ever been;

On’s Cloak more several patches there did stick

Then labour’d Algebrase Arithmetick

Could once tell how to number, and was fuller

Than was the Rainbow of each various colour,

But not so fresh, so faded when th’were seen

That none could guess which red, which blue, which green;

His Turf-house lean’d to an old stump of Oak,

A hole at top there for to voyd the Smoak

Of stolen scatter’d Boughs, could not be fed,

But by his daily begging daily bread:

There on his little bench I’ll leave him, then

Within a while I’ll speak of him again.

A wither’d Beggar-woman, little sunder’d

From him, who all the Town said, was a hundred;

Toothless she was, nay more, worn all her Gums,

And all her Fingers too were worn to Thumbs;

Wrinkles, deep Graves to bury all Delight,

Eyes no sunk holes, little she had of sight,

Little could speak, as little sense could tell,

Seldome she heard, sometimes the great Towns Bell;

A long forgetfulness her legs had seiz’d,

For many years her Crutches them had eas’d;

Cloaths, thousand rags torn with the Winde and Weather.

Her houswifry long since had sew’d together;

No livelyhood, but Charity grown cold,

As she was, this more than her years made old.

In a hot Summers day they out did creep,

Enliven’ just like Flyes, for else they sleep;

Creeping N4r 95

Creeping at last, each one to other get,

Lousing each other, kindly thus they met;

Apollo’s Master-piece shining, did aim

To light dead Ashes sparks, not make a flame

To stir up Nature in them, now so cold,

And whether Cupid dwelt in them who’re old;

Now heat and kindness made him try to kiss her

Her palsy’d head so shaked, he still did miss her;

He thought it Modesty; she ’gainst her will,

Striving to please him, could not hold it still;

She mumbl’d, but he could not understand her,

He cry’d, sweet Hero, I’ll be thy Leander;”

She said, “before we met, cold as a stone is,

I was, but now am Venus, thou Adonis.”

Such heights of Passions love utter’d these two,

As youngest Lovers, when they ’gin to woo;

For Cupid’s reign ov’r Mankinde still will have,

He governs from the Cradle to the Grave.

Their Virtues such, not sin, yet would not tarry,

So heated, vow’d a Contract, then to marry.

This Marriage now divulg’d was every where

To neighbour Beggars, Beggars far and near;

The Day appointed, and the Marriage set,

The Lame, the Blinde, the Deaf, they all were met;

Such throngs of Beggars, Women, Children seen

Muster’d all on the Towns, fair Grassy green;

The Bridegroom led between two Lame Men, so

Because our Bridegroom fast he could not go;

The Bride was led by Blinde Men, him behinde,

Because you know that Love is allwayes blinde:

The Hedge-Priest then was call’d for, did him bring,

Marry’d them both with an old Curtain-Ring;

No Father there was found, nor could be ever,

She was so old, that there was none to give her.

With Acclamations now of louder joy,

Pray’d Hymen Priapus to send a Boy,

To shew a Miracle; in Vows most deep,

The Parish swore their Children all to keep.

Then Tom a Bedlam wound his Horn, at best,

Their Trumpet now, to bring away the Feast;

Pick’d Marrow-bones they had found in the Street,

Carrots kick’d out of Kennels with their feet;

Crusts N4v 96

Crusts gather’d up, for Bisket twas so dry’d;

Alms-tubs Olio pudridoes, had beside;

Many such Dishes had, but it would cumber

Any to name them, more than I can number.

Then came the Banquet, that must never fail,

Which the Town gave, that’s white Bread, and strong Ale;

Each was so tipsy, that they could not go,

And yet would dance, and cry’d for Musick, ho;

Gridirons, and Tongs, with Keys, they play’d on too,

And blinde Men sung to them, as use to do;

Some whistled then, and hollow sticks did sound,

And thus melodiously they play’d a Round;

Lame Men, lame Women mingled, cry’d advance,

And so all limping, jovially did dance;

The deaf Men too, for they could not forbear

When they saw this, although they did not hear,

Which was their happiness, now to the House

Of Bridegroom brought the Bride, each drunk as Mouse;

No room for any but them two, they saw,

So laid them both in Bed of fresher Strawe:

Then took their leave, put out their rushen light

But they themselves did revel all the night:

The Bridegroom russles now, kiss’d, and said, “Friend,”

But when he kiss’d, thought ’twas at the other end,

And cry’d her mercy, said he could not look,

It was so dark, and thought he had mistook;

“No,” said the Bride most sweetly, “you are right

And if our Taper here was shining bright.

Now Loves Hesperides would touch the same,

That place, O place, which place, no tongue should name:”

She, gentle Dame, with roving hand indeed,

Instead of Crutches, found a broken Reed.

They both now fill’d with Ale, Brains in’t did steep,

So, arms in arms, our Lovers fell asleep.

So for the Will, though nothing else indeed,

To Love the Beggars built a Pyramid.

A O1r 97

A Tale of my Lord Marquis of Newcastles,
called the Philosophers
Complaint.

I through a Cranny there did spye

A grave Philosopher all sad,

With a dim Taper burning by,

His Study was in Mourning clad.

He sigh’d, and did lament his state,

Cursing Dame Nature, for ’twas she,

For to allot him such a Fate,

To make him of Mankinde to be.

All other Animals, their mould

Of thousand Passions makes them free

Since they’re not subject unto Gold,

Which doth corrupt Mankinde we see.

The busy Merchant plows the Main,

The pleading Lawyer for his Fee,

Pious Divines for Lawfull Gain,

Mechanicks all still Coseners be.

With Plow-shares, Farmers wound the Earth,

Look to their Cattle, Swine, and Sheep,

To multiply their Seed, Corns birth,

And all for Money which they keep.

The Sun-burnt Dame prevents the Day,

As her laborious Bees for Honey,

Doth milk her Kine, and spins away

Her fatal thread of Life for Money.

Mankinde doth on God Pluto call,

To serve him still, is all their pleasure,

Love here doth little, Money all,

For of this World it is the measure.

O Beasts O1v 98

Beasts do despise this orient mettle,

Each freely grazing fills his maw,

After Love’s procreating, settle

To softer sleep, wise Natures Law.

They’re not Litigious, but are mute,

False Propositions never make,

Nor of unknown things do dispute

Follyes, for wise things do not take.

Or flow’ry Rhet’rick to deceive,

Nor Logick to enforce the wrong,

Or tedious History to weave,

Troubling the hearers all along.

Nor study the inamell’d Skye,

Thinking they’re govern’d by each Star;

But scorn Mans false Astrology,

And think themselves just as they are.

Their Pride not being so supream,

Celestial Bodyes moving thus,

Poor Mortals each awaking dream,

To think those Lights were made for us.

Nor are they troubled where they run,

What the Suns matter it might be,

Whether the Earth moves, or the Sun,

And yet they know as well as we.

Nor do they with grave troubled looks,

By studious Learning for to stay

Or multiplicity of Books

To put them out of Truths right way.

Nor Policyes, Beasts never weaves,

Or subt’ler traps they ever lay

With false dissembling, which deceives

Their kinde to ruine, or betray.

No O2r 99

No hot ambition in them are,

Trumpets are silent, Drums do cease,

No troublers in their kinde in War

For to destroy, but all for Peace.

The Stranger valu’d Jems that dress

Our beauteous Ladies like the day,

A Parrots feathers are no less,

And gossips too as well as they.

Man’s ever troubled ’bout his Fame,

For Glory and Ambition hot,

When Beasts are constantly the same,

In them those follies enter not;

Nor hope of Worlds to come that’s higher,

With several Sects divisions make,

Or fear an everlasting Fire,

But quiet sleep, and so awake.

Man still with thoughts himself torments,

Various desires, what shall be,

And in his life hath small contents,

Beasts pleas’d with what they have, not we.

Repining Man, for what is past,

Hating the present what they see,

Frighted with what’s to come at last,

Beasts pleas’d with what is, and must be.

Ease Man doth hate, and business store,

A burthen to himself he is,

Weary of time, yet wishes more,

Beasts all these Vanities they miss.

Self-loving Man so proud a durt

Vain ’bove all things, when understood,

Studies alwayes himself a hurt,

Where Beasts are wise to their own good.

O2 Man O2v 100

Man makes himself a troubled way,

Runs into several dangers still,

When in those thoughts Beasts never stray,

But do avoyd them with their will.

Man’s troubled head with brain still swelling

Beyond the power of Senses five,

Not capable of those things telling,

Beasts beyond senses do not strive.

Natures just measure Senses are,

And no Impossibles desire,

Beasts seek not after things that’s far,

Or Toyes or Bables still admire.

Beasts slander not, or falshoods raise,

But full of truth, as Nature taught,

And wisely shun dissembling wayes,

Follow Dame Nature as they ought.

Nor to false Gods do sacrifice,

Or promise Vows to break them, no,

No Doctrine to delude with lyes,

Or worship Gods they do not know.

Nor envy any that do rise,

Or joyfull seem at those that fall,

Or crooked wayes ’gainst others tries,

But love their kinde, themselves and all.

Hard labour suffer when they must,

When over-aw’d, they wisely bend,

In onely Patience then they trust,

As miseries and afflictions Friend.

They seek not after Beauties blase

To tempt their appetite when dull,

But drink the Stream that Tempests raise,

And grumble not when they are full.

O3 They O3r 101

They take no Physick to destroy

That health which Nature to them gave,

Nor rul’d by Tyrants Laws,

Yet happy seem with what they have.

With cares Men break their sweet repose,

Like Wheels that wear with turning round;

Beasts quiet thoughts their eye lids close,

And in soft sleep all cares they drown’d.

No Rattles, Fairins, Ribbins, Strings,

Fiddles, Pipes, Minstrelses them move,

Or Bugle Bracelets, or fine Rings,

And without Cupid, maketh Love.

O happy Beasts, that spend the day

In pleasure with their nearest Kin,

And all is lawful in their way;

And live and dye without a sin.

Their Conscience nev’r troubled is,

We made so, yet forbid it too,

For Nature here is not amiss,

We strive ’gainst what w’are made to do.

Beasts need not Language, they despise

Unusefull things, all Mens delight,

Those marks which Language from doth rise,

If pleas’d with them, discourse they might.

And out of words they argue not,

But Reason out of things they do,

When we vain gossipings have got,

They quiet silent lives have too.

Complain’d of Scholars, that they sought

With envious watching, and with spight,

To have the goode to finde a fault

In any Author that doth write.

O3 O O3v 102

O vain Philosophy! their Laws

With hard words still for matter brings,

Which is nothing, nor knows the cause

Of any thing; unusefull things.

Why are our Learned then so proud,

Thinking to bring us to their bow,

And Ignorance, Wisdome allow’d,

And know not that they do not know.

Motions cessation is the end

Of Animals, both Beasts and Men,

The longest lives to that do tend,

And to Deaths Palace, his dark Den.

Or that Beasts breath doth downwards go,

And that Mens souls do upward rise;

No Post from that World comes you know,

It puzzled Salomon the Wise.

Thus he complain’d, and was annoy’d

Our grave Philosopher for’s birth,

That he was made to be destroy’d,

Or turn’d to sad or colder Earth.

I pity’d him, and his sad case

Wishing our Vicar him to teach,

For to infuse a saving Grace,

By his tongues rhet’rick for to preach.

A O4r 103

An Epistle to my Readers.

I desire my Readers to judge this
Book of mine according to the harmless
Recreation of my idle time,
and not as a laborious, learned, studious,
or a methodical Work. I did not pencil
them so much for sale, as pleasure; not but that
I should be well pleased to receive Fame for my
several Pieces and Copies of nature, or natural
Copies. But I shall not exact high Praises, nor
expect great Renown for this Work: but if I
can get an indifferent Commendation, I shall
think I have enough for these Pieces, if not,
yet the pleasure of writing them is a sufficient
reward to me the Authoress.

Margaret Newcastle.

Her O4v P1r 105

Her Excellencies Comical Tales in Prose.

The second Book.

The Schools Quarrels, or Scholars Battles.

A man travelling, and being very weary, seeing a
large House, alighted, and went to the Gates,
which he found open for any to pass without opposition;
and entring therein, he came into a
large paved Court; and walking about it, he
heard a noyse or sound like a great Wind; whereat
he looked up towards the Clouds, and seeing the Air not much
agitated, he wondred at it; at last he looked in at a Door that was
open, but there was such a mist, that he could see no further than
the entrance: yet going in, he perceived a long Gallery, wherein
were Books placed in long rows, and Men in old tatter’d Gowns
reading therein, and turning the leaves thereof; which shewed him
his errour in thinking he heard a Winde, for it was the shuffling
of the numberless leaves of the numerous Books that were turned
over by those many men. But desiring to instruct himself of their
several studyes, he went softly to peruse them.

Where the first Man he took notice of, was one, that as he read,
did beat his hands upon the Desk whereon his Book lay; and
looking over his shoulder, perceived he was studying the Laws;
and acted, against so he pleaded at the Bar.

Then he went to the next, and he was counting on his fingers;
and looking in his Book, saw he was studying Arithmetick.

A third was with a Celestial Globe, and a pair of Compasses,
very busy studying of Astronomy, measuring of the Planets, and
their distance.

The fourth was with a Terrestial Globe before his Book; and
one while he would reade, then view the Globe, and then reade
again; and he was studying Geography.

P On P1v 106

On the other side he saw one very serious in his study, and he
was reading Moral Philosophy.

Another he saw reading, and he would often lay his hand upon
his breast, and cast up the black of his eyes; and he was studying
Theology.

Then there were others, as they read, would often scratch
their heads; and they were Natural Philosophers.

But one amongst the rest looked very merrily, and he was studying
the old Poets.

Likewise there were very many more, as Historians, Grammarians,
Logicians, Geometricians, Physicians, and the like.

At last there was a little Bell which rung; whereupon they all
left off their studying, and began to walk about, disoursing to
each other, applying themselves according to their several studyes.
So the Grammarians and the Logicians began to dispute,
one for the words, or rather for the letters the other, for the
sense, subject, and matter of discourse; the one troubling himself
with Derivations, the other about Quantities and Qualities.

Then fell into dispute two Divines about Controversies; but
they grew so hot with zeal, that their discourse flamed up high,
and their fiery words flew above all respect or civility, calling one
another Heretick, and Beelzebub, and the Whore of Babylon, and
the like terms, that the rest of the Scholars had much ado to
apease them. But amongst the rest there were two Historians,
the one a Grecian, the other a Roman: these two talking of sar
and Alexander, the Roman Historian said, there was no comparison
between those two Worthyes; “for”, said he, “Alexander
was onely a Darling of Fortune, whose favour gave him a free
passage without opposition, in which he had no occasion to shew
his Courage, Skill, Conduct, or Industry and”
, said he, “Fools,
Cowards, and Slothfull persons have had good fortune sometimes.”
At this discourse the Grecian grew very angry, saying,
that Alexander was born from a Warrier, and bred a Souldier,
and was a valiant, wise Commander; and that sar was onely a
Man of Fortune, Traiterous, Desperate, and whatsoever he got
was all by Chance: But one in the defence of Alexander, the
other of Cesar, they fell from words to blows, and like two
School-boyes, to cuffs they went; and such notable thumping
blows they gave each other, that either had a bloody nose; whereupon
the rest of the Scholars began to side in Factions, some taking
one part, some another, that at last they were all together by
the ears; and so fierce in fight they were, that the Drums of their
Heads, and the Trumpets of their Tongues, arrived to the Master
of the Colledge’s hearing; at which noyse he went running up
to inform himself of the Cause; but when he came, his questions
could not be heard, nor his commands obeyed, for all the Scholars
were divided so equally, as if it had been a pitched Battle;
for all the Septicks were against the Mathematicians, the Natural
Philosophers against the Divines, the severe Moralists against the
Poets, and in the like opposition were all the rest: but at last
they grew out of all order, and there became such a confusion, that they P2r 107
they cared not who they did strike, so they did fight, although
’twere their own parties: Whereupon the Master of the Colledge
hollowed so loud, and bestirr’d himself so prudently, that
he appeased them; and after their fury was quenched, at least
abated, they began to consider; and finding their quarrels needless,
they were ashamed, and feeling their received blows painfull,
they did repent. But howsoever, it was a strange sight to
behold them, some having black and blew eyes, others swelled
foreheads like Camels backs, others scratched faces, some blowing
blood out of their nostrils, others spitting blood out of their
mouths, and some their teeth also; and all the hair both of their
heads and beards was in a ruffled, snarled, affrighted posture;
and the poor Library was like a Ship after a storm at Sea, in great
disorder; for there was strewed about pieces of papers rent from
Books, and old patches of cloth and stuff torn from Gowns;
Slippers kick’d from their feet, Caps flown from their heads,
handfuls of hairs pulled from their crowns, and pen and ink, sans
number. But the man that came by chance, crept into a hole, and
was in such an agony of fear to see this distraction, that he had not
power to come forth, but at last, when they were all gone out of
the Library to supper, or prayers, he took courage, and came out
of the corner, stealing forth the same way he came in. But when
he was clearly got from the Colledge, full glad he was, and then
began to call into his minde their Quarrels; and when he had
considered, “Well”, said he to himself, “if there be no more tranquillity
and order amongst Scholars, I will keep the company of
my merry, harmless, ignorant neighbours”
, and so returned home.

The Observer.

A gentleman desirous to travel to see the Varieties of sevral
Countryes and Governments, at last he arrived in a Kingdome,
where he went to the chief City; and there wandring
about, came to the Kings Palace; and though there was
a Guard, yet there was a Porter sitting at the outward Gate
of the Palace; so he went to the Porter. “Sir”, said he, “I am a
Stranger that travels to see several Kingdomes, and also Courts;
and I have heard great praises and fame of your King for his
peaceable and wise Government, wherefore I desire you would
please to assist me if you can, to see the King.”
So putting two or
three pieces of Gold into his hand, that the Porter might as well
feel his bounty, as hear his desire, to help make his passage free,
the Porter making legs without thanks, for Bribes have onely
civil Congies, he told him there was a Gentleman at Court that
was his very good Friend, and that he used to come and go
through the Gate late at night, and early in the morning; which
he need not have told, but he thought he should have as much
knowledge for his money as he could give: “but”, said he, “I will P2 go P2v 108 go and try if I can finde this Gentleman, my good Friend, and
he will shew you the King for my sake.”

No sooner had he spoke, but the Gentleman came by, which
at the Porters intreaty, conducts this Stranger to the sight of
the King and Queen; for Courtiers will oblige one another for
interest sake, although they have neither kindness, nor civility,
where they have or rather cannot have ends or designs. So he
guided this Gentleman through a great Court-yard, wherein
were many walking and talking, like Merchants in an Exchange,
or as a Court of Judicature; and so up a pair of stairs into a
large Room, where was a Guard of Souldiers with Halberts,
which were more for shew than for danger, for the Halberts lay
by, and great Jacks of Beer and Wine were in their hands and
some at their mouths, drinking to one another; and by their
strong large stature, and swell’d bulk, they seemed as if they did
use to eat to the same proportion of their drinking. From thence
he was guided into a long Gallery, where at the end was the Presence,
where were many young Gallants, and fair Ladyes, the
young Men courting their fair Mistrisses, in repeating of Loveverses
and Sonnets, some dancing, others singing, some congeying,
and some complementing, and thus diverting themselves in
pleasant pastimes. From thence he was guided into the Privy
Chamber, where the King and Queen were set, with many of
their Nobles about them, discoursing of Plays, Masques; Balls,
Huntings, Progresses, and the like. After he had been there a
little while, the King and Queen rose to go to Supper, and the
Gentleman invited the Stranger to sup at the Waiters Table,
which offer he civilly received; where when he was there, he
found good store of Company, which Company were full of
discourse; where, amongst much talk, they complained of their
long Peace, saying, that Peace was good for nothing but to breed
laziness, and that the Youth of the Kingdome were degenerated,
and become effeminate, concluding, that there ought to be a
War, were it for no other Reason, but to exercise their Youth in
Arms, which would breed Courage, and inflame their Spirits to
Action. But after Supper, the Stranger was guided into the
Presence again, where there were a great Company of Lords
and Ladyes waiting for the King and Queen coming forth, which
gave the Stranger some time of observation.

Where by chance he stood by a Lord, that had many of his
Friends, or rather Flatterers, about him; where he, speaking to
him of another Lord at the other side of the Room, which stood
with his Friends or Flatterers; said he to his Company, “Do you
think that Lord worthy of those Favours the King throws on him,
having neither Merit nor Worth to deserve them; when Men of
Noble Qualities, and great Deserts, are neither regarded nor rewarded:
But Gentleman”
, said he, “this must not be, for we are
born free Subjects to the King, not Slaves to his Favourite, making
our estates the Exchequer to supply his Vanities by the way
of large Taxes, which are intollerable, and not to be suffered; for P3r 109
for though the King commands by his advice, yet he receives the
Summes.”

But the Stranger, that had but a time to stay, removed from
that side to the other, where the other Lord was talking to his
Faction; said he, “Do you see that formal Lord, who loves and
affects Popularity, who would be the absolute Man in the Kingdome
to rule and govern all? Let me tell you, Gentlemen”
, said
he, “he is a dangerous Man, whom the King should be aware of:
but alas”
, said he, “the King is so facile, that whosoever comes with
a clear brow, and a smooth tongue, he believes all he sayes is
truth; besides, he is so cockred up with a long Peace, that he
cannot believe any body dares be Traitors; and thus he lives in
secure credulity; or else he is so timerous, that he dares not displease
any one; for those that are against him, he prefers; and those
that are faithfull to him, he cares not for, at least rejects them.”

From that Company the Stranger removed to the Womens
side, where was a Lady, with others by her; said she to one of
them, “Prithee look on yonder Lady, how she is painted and curled
to allure the Youth of the Court, but ifaith”
, said she, “it will
not do, for if one comes near, she is as withered and dry as a leaf
in Autumn.”
So he, desiring to hear all parts, removed to the other
Ladyes, where was one that said to some others, “Do you see”,
saith she, “the Wit of the Court”, meaning the other Lady that was
opposite; “ifaith”, said she, “if I were her, I would rather conceal
my Wit, than discover my breath; and she is so full of talk that
she will suffer none to speak but her self.”
And every Lady of
each Company flung spightfull words upon each others back:
but the Musick began to play, so that every one unroosted, and
flock’d together; where meeting, they did all embrace, kiss,
profess, and protest such affections, and vowed such friendships,
as neither their lives nor fortunes should be wanting in one anothers
service; which the Stranger hearing, went out of the
Court as fast as he could, for fear of the Courts infection; and
when he came to the Gate, the Porter that he first spoke to, ask’d
him, why he went away so soon, “for”, said he, “the Company selldome
part untill one or two a clock in the morning, nay”
, said he
some not all the night long, if their Mistrisses favour them, or at
least take pity of them.”

The Stranger said, he saw so much as did affright him; “what”,
said the Porter, some Devils in the Play, or Masques, or so:”
“Yes”, said the Gentleman, “they could change into as many shapes
as they would;”
“that is onely in their Cloaths”, answered the Porter;
“no”, said the stranger, “it was their tongues and faces, and
so God give you good night, &c.”

The Discreet Virgin.

There was a grave Matron who came to visit a young Virgin,
whom she ask’d why she did not marry, since she was of marriageableP3 riageable P3v 110 years. “Truly”, said she, “I am best pleased with a single
life.”

“What!” answered the Matron, “will you lead Apes in Hell?” The
young Lady said, it was better to lead Apes in Hell, than live like
Devils on Earth, “for”, said she, “I have heard that a married Couple
seldome or never agree, the Husband roars in his drink, and the
Wife scolds in her Choler, the Servants quarrell, the Children
cry, and all set in more disorder, than tis thought Hell is, and a
more confused noise.”

Said the Matron, such are onely the poor meaner sort of people,
that live so, but the noble and rich men and their wives live otherwise,
for the better sort, as the noble and rich, when they are
drunk are carried straight to bed, and laid to sleep, and their wives
dance untill their husbands are sober.”

Said the Lady, “if they dance until their Husbands are sober,
they will dance untill they are weary;”
“So they do”, replied the
Matron.

“Why” said the Lady, “the Husbands are for the most part drunk:” And the other answered, “and the Ladies are for the most part
dancing.”

“But by your favour”, said the Matron, “men are not so often nor
so constantly drunk as you report them.”

Answered the young Lady, “you shall be Judge if I slander
them, for they drink drunk at dinner, and before; they are
thoroughly sober, they go to supper; and they drink so as they
go drunk to bed; And in the morning they will have their refreshing
draughts: But”
, said she, “I perceive you think none are drunk
but those that drink in a Tavern; but they, let me tell you, are
sober men to home Drunkards; and Taverns are quiet orderly
Houses, to great, noble, and rich Mens Houses; for Palaces are
oftentimes but hospitable Taverns, Inns, and Baudy Houses,
onely their Guests pay nothing for their fare: but when they are
Gaming Houses, then they pay the Box:”

“Fye, Lady, fye”, said the Matron, “why do you abuse Noble
Persons.”

“I do not abuse them”, answered she, “they abuse themselves.”

“We will leave off this discourse”, said the Matron, “and talk of
Husbands.”

“We have talk’d”, said the young Lady, “of Husbands already;
besides, the Theme is so bad, that the discourse thereon cannot be
good.”

“I am come”, said the Matron, “to offer you a Husband.”

She replyed, she was offered Husbands enough, but there were
none worth the taking; “for”, said she, “Men in this Age are far
worse, than Women, and more ridiculous in their behaviours,
discourses, dressings, vanities, and idleness; as for their humours”
,
said she, “they are either apish, constrained, or rude; if they be
apish, they put themselves into a hundred several postures in an
hour; and so full of apish actions, as scratching their heads, or
some other parts, when they do not itch, or sorting their hair, or goggling P4r 111
goggling their hats, with jogging their heads, the while backwards,
as to the noddle of their heads, and then forwards, as to
their brows; or fumbling with their buttons, band-strings, or
boot-hose; or pulling their cloaks the one while upon one shoulder,
and then on another, and then back again; or else pull their
cloak with one hand, and hold it fast with the other; this pulling
motion being a mode-motion: but those that are very much in
the mode, lap it about their waste all in a crumple like a scarf;
or else like malecontents, muffle themselves therein. As for
their behaviour; those that are phantastical, their bodyes are in a
perpetual motion, winding, or turning, or wreathing about, or
dancing affectedly, singing fa, fa, la; or whistling like a Carter,
or lye careless upon the ground kicking back their heels, or with
the end of their feet lye kicking the ground. But when they affect
a careless behaviour, as thinking it dignifies them (as all
those that have been meanly born or bred, and have had some
advancement either by riches, offices, royal favours, or by fortune)
then they will sit lolling upon their breech, or lean on their
elbows, gaping or stretching them selves, or else laying the ancle
of one leg upon the knee of the other, heaving their feet up towards
the nostrils of their company, especially when Ladyes
are by.”

“Methinks”, said the Matron, “that is an ill behaviour, to thrust
their feet towards a fair Ladyes nose.”

“They do so”, answered she; “also they have a restless mode, to
stand up one minute, the next sit down, dividing the time of visiting,
as neither in going, nor staying, but between both; for
they neither quietly stay, nor civilly take their leave; and in
Winter, where there is Fire, as soon as they come into a room
they straight go the fire, and there turn their backs to warm
their breeches with their hands turned back upon them: but if it
be in Summer, then they lean their breech upon the chimney side,
or against a wall, standing cross legg’d, or else they stand bowing
over a chairs back, or set their stomacks against the edge of a
table, and lay the upper part of the body thereon; and sometimes
they rest their elbows thereon, and hold up their chins with
the palm of their hands, or wrist, and in all these actions their
tongues run with nonsense. But the rudest behaviour is to pull
out the Ladyes fans, or muffs out of their hands, to fling their
cloaks or coats on their Beds, couches, or tables, or to lye rudely
upon their beds or couches, or to come unawares and kiss their
necks, or embrace their waste, and twenty such like tricks, which
no Woman of Honour can like, but will be very angry: yet they
know not how to be revenged, unless they engage their nearest
Friends, as Fathers, Brothers, Uncles, or Husbands in a Quarrel,
for they cannot fight with Men themselves, their strength is too
weak, although their will is good. And as for Mens discourse,
for the most part, it is swearing, bragging, ranting, rallery, railling,
or lascivious; and in their dressings and fashions they are
more phantastical, various and unconstant than Women are; for they P4v 112
they change their blocks for their hats, although they cannot
their block-heads, forty times oftner than Women change the
shapes of their bags or hoods for their heads; and Mens bands,
cuffs, and boot-hose-tops are changed into more several shapes
than Womens gorgets, handkerchiefs, or any linnen they wear;
and for their doublets, breeches, cloaks, coats, and cassocks, they
change their fashions oftner than the winds change their corners,
where Women will keep to the fashion of their gowns, petticoats,
and wastcoats, two or three years, before they alter their
shapes. Neither do Men change for convenience, grace, or behaviour,
but out of a phantastical vanity. And are not Men more
perfumed, curled and powdred than Women? and more various
colours, and greater quantities of ribbins ty’d and set upon their
hats, cloaths, gloves, boots, shoes, and belts, than Women on
their heads and gowns? And have not Men richer and more
gayer cloaths than Women have? and where Women make
cloaths once, Men make cloaths three times; and Men exclaim
against the vanities of Women, when they are a hundred times
vainer than Women, and are more unnecessary expensive than
Women are; when Women may be allowed by the severest judgements
to be a little vain, as being Women, when it ought to be
condemned in Men as an effeminacy, and effeminacy in Men is a
vice. The last is their idleness; for do not Men spend their
time far more idly, besides, wickeder than Women? And do
not Men run visiting from house to house for no other purpose,
but to twattle, spending their time in idle and fruitless discourse?
And do not Men meet every day in Taverns and Ordinaryes,
to sit and gossip over a cup of wine, when Women are
condemned for gossiping, once in a quarter of a year, at a Labour,
or a Christning, or at the Upsitting of a Childbed Woman?
And do not Men run and hunt about for news, and then meet to
gossip on it with their censuring verdicts? besides, they are so
greedy of twattle, that rather than want idle matter to prate of,
they will invent news, and then falsly repeat it: but such are accounted
Wits that can make the most probable lyes, which they
call gulling.

Also have not Men more foolish quarrels than Women have?
and are not Men more apt to take exceptions at each other than
Women are? and will not Men dissemble, lye and flatter with
each other more than Women do? and will not Men rail and
backbite each other more than Women will? and are not Men
more spightfull, envious, and malicious at each other than Women?
and will not Men imitate each others phantastical garbs,
dress, and the like, more than Women? and will not Men ride
from place to place to no purpose, more than Women? and do
not Men take more delight in idle pastimes, and foolish sports,
than Women? and in all this time of their visiting, club, gossiping,
news, travelling, news venting, news making, vain spending,
mode fashioning, foolish quarrelling, and unprofitable journeying,
what advantage do they bring to the Commonwealth, or honour Q1r 113
nonour to their Posterity, or profit to themselves; none but are
like Flyes bred out of a dunghill, buzzing idly about, and then
dye; when Women are like industrious Ants, and prudent Bees,
alwayes imployed to the benefit of their families; and unless I
can have a Husband that is so wise that he can entertain himself
with his own thoughts, to dwell quietly in his own house, governing
prudently his own family, also to behave himself civilly,
to speak rationally, to accoutre himself manfully, to defend himself
and maintain his honour valiantly, to do nobly, to judge charitably,
to live honestly, as to temper his appetites, rule his passions,
or be industrious thereunto, I will never marry; for it is
not onely a Good Husband, but a Wise Man, that makes a Woman
happy in Marriage,&c.”

Of three Travellers.

There were three Travellers that inquired of each other about
their travels; and after they had recounted their tedious
journeys, dangerous passages, and their many inconveniencies,
they discoursed of the climates of each Country they had been in,
their situations, commodity, trade and traffick, the customes, fashions
and humours of the People, the laws and government of
their Princes, the peace and wars of neighbour Nations, at last
they became to question one another, who had seen the greatest
Wonders in their Travels.

Said one, “I have seen the greatest wonder, for I have seen a
mean man become an Emperour.”

“Pish”, said the second, “that is nothing, for I have seen a mean
fellow, without merit, a powerful Emperours bosome friend,
and chief Ruler; for though the power of Fortune can inthrone
Slaves, and unthrone Kings, yet Fortune hath no power over
the Souls of Kings; for although Fortune hath power over the
Body, she hath none over the Minde.”

“Why”, said the third, “that is no more wonder for Nature to put
a Subjects Soul, fill’d with mean Thoughts, into an Emperours
Body, than for Fortune, to set an Emperours Crown on a Slaves
Head: but I can tell you”
, said he, “a Wonder indeed; for where
I travelled, there was an Emperour the Wisest Man in the
World.”

“That is no wonder”, answered the other, “for all great Monarchs,
as Emperours, ought to be the wisest, because they rule all others.”

“But though they ought to be so”, said the other, “yet they are not
allwayes so; for were not many of the Roman Emperours called
the Foolish Emperours? and when there are so few Wise Men in
the World, that there is scarce a Wise Man to be found in an Age,
it is a wonder when Wisdome lights in the right line, as in a
Royal Line.”

“No”, answered the third, “it is no wonder, for the Gods take a
particular care to indue a Royal Head with Understanding, and Q a Q1v 114
a Royal Heart with Justice; for inhereditary Royalty is sacred,
since the Gods anoint those Lines to that Dignity.”

“But those that have not a right by inheritance, the Gods take
no care of, nay many times do the Gods punish with plagues and
other miseries, those People that make a King of their own
choosing, and justly, since Royalties are God Vicegerents, or
Deputies on Earth; for as the Gods are chief in Heaven, and rule
the Works of Nature as they will, so Royalties are chief on Earth,
and rule the rest of Mankinde as they please.”

“But”, said the other, “if they rule not well, they are to give an
account.”

“Yes”, answered the other, “but not unto those Men they rule,
but to the Gods that placed them in their Thrones.”

The Loving Cuckold.

There was a Gentleman that had marryed a Wife, beautifull,
modest, chaste, and of a milde and sweet disposition;
and after he had been marryed some time, he
began to neglect her, and make courship to other Women;
which she perceiving, grew very melancholy; and sitting
one day very pensive alone, in comes one of her Husbands acquaintance
to see him; but this Lady told him, her Husband was
abroad.

Said he, “I have been to visit him many times, and still he is
gone abroad.”

Said she, “my Husband finds better Company abroad than he
hath at home, or at least thinks so, which makes him go so often
forth.”

So he, discoursing with the Lady, told her, he thought she
was of a very melancholy disposition.

She said, she was not naturally so, but what her misfortunes
caused.

Said he, “can Fortune be cruel to a Beautifull Lady?”

“’Tis a sign”, said she, “I am not Beautifull, to match me to an
unkinde Husband.”

Said he, “to my thinking it is as impossible for your Husband to
be unkinde, as Fortune to be cruel”

Said she, “you shall be Judge whether he be not so; for first”,
said she, “I have been an obedient Wife, observed his humours,
and obeyed his will in every thing; next, I have been a thrifty,
cleanly, patient and chaste Wife; thirdly, I brought him a great
Portion; and lastly, my Neighbours say I am handsome, and
yet my Husband doth neglect me, and despise me, making courtships
to other Women, and sometimes, to vex me the more, before
my face.”

Said he, “your Husband is not worthy of you; therefore if I
may advise you, I would cast aside the affection I had placed
upon him, and bestow it upon a Person that will worship you Q2r 115
you with an Idolatrous Zeal; and if you please to bestow it on
me, I will offer my Heart on the Altar of your Favours, and sacrifice
my Services thereon; and my Love shall be as the Vestal
Fire that never goeth out, but perpetually burn with a Religious
Flame.”

Thus speaking and pleading, made courtship to her, but she at
first did not receive it; but he having opportunity by reason her
Husband was much from home, and using importunity, at last
corrupted her, and she making a friendship with this Gentleman,
began to neglect her Husband as much as he had done her;
which he perceiving, began to pull in the bridle of his loose carriage:
But when he perceived his Acquaintance was her courtly
Admirer, he began to wooe her anew to gain her from him; but
it would not be; for she became from a meek, modest, obedient,
and thrifty Wife, to be a ranting, flanting, bold, imperious
Wife.

But her Husband grew so fond of her, that he sought all the
wayes he could to please her, and was the observants Creature to
her that might be, striving to please her in all things or wayes he
could devise; insomuch as observing she was never pleased but
when she had Gallants to court her, he would invite Gentlemen
to his House, and make Entertainments for them; and those she
seemed most to favour, he would make dear Friendships with;
and would often be absent, to give them opportunities to be with
his Wife alone, hoping to get a favourable look, or a kiss for his
good services, which she would craftily give him to encourage
him.

But the other Gentleman that made the first addresses to her,
being a marryed Man, his Wife hearing her Husband was so
great a Lover of that Lady, and that that Ladyes Husband was
reformed from his incontinent life, and was become a doting fond
Wittal, loving and admiring her for being courted and made love
to, esteeming that most that others seemed to like well of; she
began to imitate her; which her Husband perceiving, gave her
warning not to do so, but she would take no warning, but entertained
those that would address themselves; whereupon her Husband
threatned her: but at last she was so delighted with variety,
that she regarded not his threats; whereupon he used her cruelly,
but nothing would reclaim her, onely she would make more secret
meetings, wherewith she was better pleased; for secret meetings,
as I have heard, give an edge to Adultery; for it is the
nature of Mankinde to be most delighted with that which is most
unlawfull. But her Husband finding no reformation could be
made, he parted with her, for he thought it a greater dishonour to
be a Wittal than a Cuckold, although he was very much troubled
to be either for though he was willing to make a Cuckold, yet
he was not willing to be one himself. Thus you may see the different
natures of Men.

Q2 The Q2v
116

The Converts in Marriage.

There were four young Gentlewomen whose Fathers were near
Neighbours each to other, whereupon there grew an acquaintance,
and so a society.

The first was reserved and coy.

The second was bold and ranting.

The third was merry and gay.

The fourth was peevish and spightfull.

She that was reserved and coy, was generous and ambitious.

She that was bold and ranting, was covetous and wanton.

She that was merry and gay, was vain and phantastical.

She that was peevish and spightfull, was cross and unconstant.

It chanced the four Fathers were offered four Husbands for
their four Daughters all at one time, who by reason they had good
estates, they caused their Daughters to marry.

The Husband that was to marry the first Lady, was covetous,
miserable, and timerous, as all miserable covetous persons for the
most part are fearfull; but being very rich, the Father to this
Lady forced her to marry him.

And he that was to marry the second Lady, was temperate,
prudent, and chaste.

And he that was to marry the third Lady, was melancholy,
solitary, and studious.

And he that was to marry the fourth Lady, was cholerick and
impatient.

And after they had been marryed some time, the covetous and
timerous man became hospitable, bountifull, valiant, and aspiring,
doing high and noble deeds.

And she that was bold and wanton, became chast, sober, and
obedient.

And he that was melancholy, became sociable, conversible,
and pleasant, and she thrifty and staid.

But he that was cholerick and impatient, who marryed her that
was peevish and spightfull, did live like Dogs and Cats, spit,
scrawl, scratch and bite, insomuch as they were forced to part;
for being both faulty, they could not live happily, because they
could never agree; for errours and faults multiply, being joyned
together,&c.

Ages Folly.

There was a Man and his Wife that had been marryed
many years together, and had agreed and lived happily,
loving each other wondrous well: but at last, after
they were stricken in years, the Husband was catch’d
with a crafty young Wench, like a Woodcock in a Nooze, or Net, Q3r 117
Net, where he was intangled in Loves fetters; and though he
fluttred and fluttred to get loose, yet she kept him fast, not that
she loved Age, but Wealth, for Amorous Age is prodigal, and
yet more self-conceited than those that are young, or in their
prime of years, but easily catched, which is strange; for most
commonly those that are self-conceited, are proud, disdainfull,
despising, thinking few or none worthy of their love: but Amorous
Age, though they are self-conceited, take a pride, as bragging
that they can have a Love as well as those that are Young;
which makes each smile, and every amorous glance from youthfull
eyes, a snare, or rather baits, which Age doth nibble on.

But his Wife observing her Husband to prank and prune, to
jet and set himself in several postures, to be extravagant in his
actions, phantastical in his dress, loose in his discourse, wondred
to see him on a sudden transformed from a sober, grave, staid,
wise Man, to a Jackanapes. At last concluded with her self, for
certain he was mad; with which opinion she became wondrous
melancholy. But by chance finding him making amorous addresses
to a young Woman, she then perceived the cause was
Love, and nothing but Love, I mean, Amorous Love, and powerfull
Amorous Love, that blindfolds long and wise experience
with a foul, false appetite, making not onely young, but old Men
fools.

But his Wife, like a discreet Woman, moderated her passion
for a while, hoping it was but a sudden flash, or faint blast, that
would soon dye: But when she perceived his Amorous Humour
not to quench, but rather to burn, though smotheredly, and no
perswasions could reform him, but rather make him worse, as
Cordials hot Feavers, she parted from him, after that they had
been, and as she thought, happily marryed many years; and so
resigned that part of the command and government of his Family
that was left, for the Maid had incroach’d by her Masters favour,
and had ingross’d the chiefest power of rule in the Houshold
affairs, as well as in the hearts affections.

Thus his Wife left him, and his dotage; but Death in a short
time did come and revenge her Quarrel; and that Tinder-fire
Cupid had made, Death put out.

By this we see, there is no certainty of constancy, nor no cure
in time, nor no settlement in life, &c.

The three Wooers.

There were three Knights went awooing.

A Covetous Knight.

An Amorous Knight.

And a Judicious Knight.

The Covetous Knight sought a rich Wife, not caring for her
birth, breeding, or beauty.

Q3 The Q3v 118

The Amorous sought for a beautifull Wife, not caring for her
wealth or birth.

The Judicious sought for a Wife virtuous, well bred, and honourably
born, not caring for the wealth or beauty.

And having all three good estates every Man that had Daughters
invited and feasted them.

So they went to visit all Noble, Hospitable House-keepers, as
Gentlemen, Honourable Persons, that live in the Country.

Where the Amorous Knight made love to all those Ladyes
and Gentlewomen that were handsome; but as soon as he was
to treat with their Parents or friends about marriage, or to appoint
a Wedding-day, he would finde some excuse or other to break
off.

The Covetous Knight would be so far from wooing, that he
would not speak to any of the young Ladyes, nor often look on
them, for fear they should claim marriage: but he still would
treat with their Parents or Friends, to know what Portions they
had, or what Estates were likely to befall them by the death of
their Friends.

The Judicious Knight would neither wooe the Ladyes, nor
treat with their Parents or Friends, but discoursed with them civilly,
observing strictly of what capacities, wits and behaviours
the Women were of; also imploying Agents secretly to inquire
of their Servants, Neighbours, and Acquaintance, of what natures,
dispositions and humours they were of, not trusting to their
sober outsides, and formalities they used to Strangers. And after
they had visited all Noble Entertainers, they went to the City.

“For”, said the Covetous Knight, “I will not choose a Wife in
these Families; for these Daughters, Sisters, and Nieces, are too
prodigally bred to make thrifty Wives.”
So they went to visit
the City.

But the Amorous Knight said, he would not choose a Wife out
of the City; “for”, said he, “I shall never love my Wife but on
Holydayes or Sundayes, for they then appear indifferent handsome
when they have their best cloaths; but on working-dayes
they smell of the Shop, and appear like their Fathers faded,
mouldy, withered Wares. Besides”
, said he, “they discoursing to
none but their Journey-men, and ’Prentice boyes, cannot tell how
to entertain a Gentleman, or a Lover, with Romancical Speeches,
or pieces or parts of Plays, or copies of Verses, or the like.”

Said the Covetous Knight, “you condemn that I shall commend,
and dislike that which I shall like, and love that which I shall
hate, for I hate whining love; and I shall be unwilling to marry
a Woman, although she should bring me a great Portion, that
would be reading in Romancy-books, and the like, and be entertaining
with repeating Verses, singing Love-sonnets, and the
like, when she should be looking to my Servants, ordering my Family,
and giving directions therein. Or such a one that would be
half the day dress’d so fine she cannot stir about her house, or will
not for fear of dirtying or crumpling her cloaths, besides the infinitefinite Q4r 119
expence their Bravery will put me to. But when they dress
fine but on Sundayes and Holydayes, I mean onely at such good
times as Christmas, Easter, Whitsuntide, or so, a Silk Gown will
last some seven years. And he is a good Husband that will or
can love his Wife sometimes, as on Holydayes, although I shall
love my Wife best those dayes she is most in her houswifry,
which is in her Sluttery, and not on Holydayes, when she is in her
Bravery. But he that loves his Wife every day; as at all times,
is luxurious, and ought to be banished a Commonwealth; for
fond Husbands make proud, vain, idle, and expensive Wives,
who spoyl Servants, kill industry, and all good houswifry, which
is the ruine to Noble and Antient Familyes.”

But after they had traversed the City, they went to the Court.

And when the Covetous Man saw the bravery of the Court,
he would by any means be gone from thence; the other two
asked him the reason; he said he was afraid that they would cheat
him, or bring some false witness to accuse him of Treason, so get
his estate, or at least to bring him into some Court to get a Fine;
“for”, said he, “I verily believe they have no Money, having no
Lands but what they get by such shifting, sharking, flattery, bribing,
betraying, acc