THE BRIDE  
BY S. R.  
LONDON Printed By W. I. for T. P. 1617.   
THE BRIDE TO ALL MAIDS. 

NOt out of bubble blasted Pride,  
Do I oppose myself a Bride,  
In scornful manner with upbraids:  
Against all modest virgin maids.  
As though I did despise chaste youth,  
This is not my intent of truth,  
I know they must live single lives,  
Before theyare graced to be wives.  
But such are only touched by me,  
That think themselves as good as we:  
And say girls, Woman's fellows arr,  
Nay sawcely, Our betters far:  
Yea will dispute, they are as good,  
Such Wenches vex me to the blood,  
And are not to be borne with all:  
Those I do here in question call,  
Whom with the rules of reasons Art:  
I'll teach more wit before we part.  
Silence, of kindness I beseech,  
Do you find ears, and we'll find speech.    
THE BRIDE. 

Virgin's, and fellow maids (that were of late)  
Take kindly here my weeding days a dew,  
I entertain degree above your state:  
For Marriage life's beyond the single crew,  
Bring me to Church as custom says you shall,  
And then as wife, farewell my wenches all.   

I go before you unto Honour now,  
And Hymen's Rites with joy do undertake  
For life, I make the constant Nuptial vow,  
Strive you to follow for your credit's sake,  
For greater grace to Womankind is none  
Then join with husband, faithful two in one.   

God Honoured thus, our great Grandmother Eve  
And gave thereby the blessing of increase,  
For were not marriage we must all believe,  
The generations of the earth would cease.  
Mankind should be extinguished and decreased  
And all the world would but consist of beast.   

Which caused me to find my Maiden folly,  
And having found it, to reform the same:  
Though some of you, thereat seem melancholy  
That I for ever do renounce your name.  
I not respect what censure you can give,  
Since with a loving Man I mean to live.   

Whose kindest heart, to me is worth you all,  
Him to content, my soul in all things seeks,  
Say what you please, exclaiming chide and brawl,  
I'll turn disgrace unto your blushing cheeks.  
I am your better now by Ring and Hatt,  
No more plain Rose, but Mistress you know what.   

Marry therefore and yield increase a store,  
Else to what purpose wear you breed and borne:  
Those that receive, and nothing give therefore:  
Are fruitless creatures, of contempt and scorn,  
The excellence of all things doth consist,  
In giving, this no reason can resist.   

The glorious Sun, in giving forth his light,  
The Earth in plants, and herbs & countles things  
The trees their fruit, The Empress of the Night  
She bounteous gives to rivers floods and springs,  
And all that heaven, and all that earth contains,  
Their goodness, in Increase of gifts explaynes.   

But what do you that neither give nor take,  
(As only made for hearing, and for seeing,)  
Although created helpers for Man's sake:  
Yet Man no whit the better for your being,  
That spend consume and Idle out your hours,  
Like many garden-paynted useless flowers.   

Your lives are like those worthless barren trees,  
That never yield (from year to year) but leaves:  
Greenebowes upon them only all men sees,  
But other goodness there is none receives,  
They flourish summer and they make a show,  
Yet to themselves they fruitless spring & grow.   

Consider beast, and fish and foul, all creatures,  
How there is male and female of their kind,  
And how in love they do enlarge their natures:  
Even by constrained necessity inclined:  
To pair and match, and couple 'tis decreed,  
To stock and store the earth, with what they breed.   

In that most powerful word, still power doth lie,  
To whose obedience all must subject be,  
That said at first, Increase and multiply,  
Which still enduers from age to age we see:  
Duty obligeth every one should frame,  
To his dread will, that did command the same.   

It is not good for Man to be alone,  
(Said that great God, who only knows what's best:)  
And therefore made a wife of Adam's bone,  
While he reposing slept, with quiet rest,  
Which might presage, the great Creator men.  
In their conjunction, sum of earth's content,   Mistress Susan. 

Good Mistress Bride, now we have hard your speech  
In commendation of your Nuptial choice,  
Give me a little favour I beseech,  
To speak unto you with a Virgin's voice:  
Though divers elder maids in place there be,  
Yet i'll begin, trusting they'll second me.   

We are your fellows but to Church you say,  
As custom is that maids, should bring the Bride,  
And for no longer than the wedding day,  
You hold with us, but turn to other side:  
Boasting of Honour you ascend unto,  
And so go forward making much ado.   

But this unto you justly I object,  
In the defence of each beloved maid,  
Virginity, is life of chaste respect,  
No worldly burden thereupon is laid:  
Our single life, all peace and quiet brings,  
And we are free from careful earthly things.   

We may do what we please, go where we list,  
Without pray husband will you give me leave,  
Our resolutions no man can resist,  
Our own's our own, to give or to receive,  
We live not under this same word obey:  
Till Death depart us, at our dying day.   

We may delight in fashion, wear the same,  
And choose the stuff of last devised sale:  
Take tailors counsel in it free from blame,  
And cast it off assoon as it grows stolen:  
Go out, come in, and at self pleasure live,  
And kindly take, what kind young men do give.   

We have no checking churlish taunts to fear us,  
We have no grumbling at our purse expense:  
We seek no miser's favour to forbear us,  
We use no household wranglings and offence:  
We have no cock to over crow our comb,   Cate. 
Well said good Susan, now thou payest her home.  Bride. 

A little favour pray, good Mistress Sue,  
You have a time to hear aswell as speak:  
You challenge more by odds then is your due,  
And stand on Arguments are childish weak:  
Of freedom, liberty, and all content,  
But in the air your breath is vainly spent.   

It is your shame to boast you have your will,  
And that you are in fear of no control,  
Your cases Susan, are more bad and ill,  
Most dangerous to body and to soul:  
A woman to her will hath oft been tried,  
To run with error, on the left hand side.   

Pray did not danger then to Eve befall,  
When she took liberty without her heda,  
The Serpent overcame her therewithal,  
And thorough will, she wilful was misled:  
Yielding assoon as Satan did entice,  
And of her husband never took advise.   

In wit to men we are inferior far,  
For arts for learning, and Ingenious things,  
No rare Inventions in our brains there are,  
That public profit to a kingdom brings:  
'tis they that must all callings execute,  
And we of all their labours reap the fruit.   

They are Divines for souls true happiness,  
They Maiestraites to right offensive wrongs,  
They soldiers for their martial valiantness,  
They artisans, for all to use belongs:  
They husbandmen to work the earth's increase,  
And they the some of women's joy and peace.   

And shall not we perform obedience then?  
As we are bound by law of God and nature,  
Yielding true heart's affection unto men,  
Ordained to rule and govern every creature:  
Why then of all on earth that live and move,  
We should degenerate and monsters prove.   Bess. 

Monsters (forsooth) near sleep in maiden's beds,  
But they are lodged with your married wives,  
The knotty brows, and rugged butting heads,  
Concern not us, professing single lives,  
To learn your hornbook we have no devotion  
Keep monsters to yourselves, we scorn the motion.   Bride. 

Bess, of such shapes, when your turn comes to marry  
A careful mind, in choice of husband bear,  
For if your brows from former smothnes vary,  
Think on this speech, It cometh with a fear:  
Which I am past, perplex me no fear can.  
Being sure I have a constant honest man.   jane. 

Believe you have, and 'tis enough they say,  
But you and I agree not in a mind,  
I read in stories men will run astray,  
Yet make their foolish wives believe theyare kind:  
And therefore since they are so cunning known  
I'll keep myself a maid and trust to none.   

Had I one suitor swore himself lovesick,  
Another for his Mistress sake would die,  
A third thorough Cupid's power grown lunatic,  
A fourth that languishing past hope did lie:  
And so fist, sixth, and seventh in loves passion,  
My Maidenhead for them should never change fashion.   

Aeneas told many a cogging tale,  
To Dido that renowned worthy Queen,  
And jason with his flatter did prevail,  
Yet falser knaves in love were never seen:  
And at this instant hour, as they were then,  
The world aboundeth with deceitful men.   Doll. 

jane, that's too true, for to you all I swear,  
How I was bobbed by one 'tis shame to tell,  
A smother fellow never wench did hear,  
And as I live, I thought he loved me well:  
Hear you shall see one of his cunning letters,  
Which still I keep, & mean to show his betters.   

In Roman hand, on guilded paper writ,  
Pray Dorothy read you it to the rest,  
But whether his own head invented it,  
Or robbed some printed Book, I do protest:  
I cannot tell, but his own name is to it,  
Which proves he takes upon him for to do it.   The Love Letter. 

The truest heart, shall nought but falsehood cherish,  
The mildest man, a cruel tyrant prove,  
The water drops, the hardest flint shall perish,  
The hills shall walk, and massy earth remove:  
The brightest Sun shall turn to dark some cloud,  
Ere I prove false, where I my love have vowed.   

Ere I prove false, the world dissolved shall be,  
To that same nothing that it was before,  
Ere I prove false mine eyes shall cease to see,  
And breath of life shall breath in me no more:  
The strong built frame shall move from his foundation  
Ere I remove my soul's determination.   

Death shall forget to kill, and men to die,  
Condemned souls shall laugh, and cease to mourn,  
The lowest hell shall rise and meet the sky,  
Time shall forget his course and back return:  
Contrary unto kind each thing shall prove,  
Ere I befalse or once forget my love.   

Oh then dear heart regard my sad estate,  
My passions grief and woeful lamentation,  
Oh pity me ere pity come too late,  
That hold thee dear past man's imagination:  
Preserve my life and say that thou wilt have me,  
Or else I die the whole world cannot save me.   Grace. 
This is a Ballad I have heard it sung.  Doll. 

Well, be or be not, that's not to the matter,  
But who will trust a lovers pen or tongue,  
That use all protestations thus to flatter:  
For this base fellow that was so perplexed,  
Sent this one monday, and was married next.   Sara. 

Now out upon him most dissembling creature,  
I'll warrant you that he can never thrive,  
He shows himself, even of as bad a nature,  
As ever was in any man alive:  
Alas poor fool that hath this fellow got,  
She hath a jewel of him, hath she not?   Nell. 

Yes surely hath she, (weighing all things deep,)  
A lover that will taste as sweet as gall,  
One that is better far to hang then keep,  
And I persuade me you do think so all:  
Excepting only partial Mistress Bride,  
For she stands stoutly to the married side.   Bride. 

So far as reason, and as right requires,  
I will defend them both by word and deed,  
Yet have I no apology for liars,  
And ill conditions that false hearts do breed:  
" All that are married be not faithful kind,  
" Nor all unmarried, are not chaste in mind.   

Are there not maids (upon your conscience speak?)  
Known to yourselves as well as you know me,  
Will vow their love to men, and falsely break,  
Which in the number of your Virgins be,  
That will delude some half a score young men,  
And having gulled them, take some other then.   

I will not name her was in love with ten,  
But in your ears i'll note her secret; hark,  
She had both Courtiers, Cockneys, Countrymen,  
Yet in the end a Sailor board's her Bark:  
And therefore put not men in all the blame,  
But speak the truth, and so the devil shame.   Grace. 

I know the party well that you do mean,  
And thus much for her I dare boldly say,  
To divers suitors though she seemed to lean,  
To try her fortunes out the wisest way:  
Yet did she never plight her faith to any,  
But unto him she had, among so many:   

And there's no doubt but divers do as she,  
Yourself in conscience, have had more than one,  
To whom in show you would familiar be,  
And coming to the point why you would none:  
Civility allows a courteous carriage,  
To such as proffer love by way of marriage.   

An affable behaviour may be used,  
And kind requital answer kind desert,  
And yet no honest man thereby abused,  
With feigned shows, as if he had the heart:  
When there is purpose of no such intent  
To gull him with his time and money spent.   Mall. 

Were I to give maids counsel, they to take it,  
And that they would consent to do as I,  
Who offered us his love, we would forsake it,  
And like Diana's Nymphs would live and die:  
For I protest your lovers should have none,  
But wives and widows to put tricks upon.   

We would revenge the crafty double dealing,  
Thousands of harmless virgins do endure,  
By their deceitful art of kinde-hart stealing,  
Keeping our loves unto ourselves secure:  
And credit to their vows, should be no other,  
But in at one ear, and go out at tother.   Bride. 

This you would do, and y'are in that mind now,  
But I persuade me 'tis but rashly spoken,  
And therefore Mary make no foolish vow,  
For if you do in conscience 'twill be broken:  
Say you do mean to keep you free from man,  
But to be sure, still put in If you can.   

Or else you may presume above your power,  
Twixt words and deeds, great difference often grows,  
You may be taken such a loving hour,  
Your heart may all be Cupid's to dispose:  
Then we shall have you sick, & pine and grieve,  
And nothing but a husband can relieve.   

Ask but your elders that are gone before,  
And they'll say marry maid as we have done,  
Twixt twelve and twenty open love the door,  
And say you were not borne to live a Nun:  
Unperfect female, living odd you are,  
Never true even, till you match and pair.   

just- Nature at the first this course did take,  
Woman and man divided were in twain,  
But by uniting both did sweetly make,  
divisions bliss contenfull to remain,  
Which well made law of Nature and of kind,  
To matters reasonles do nothing bind.   

Nothing unfit, nothing unjust to do,  
But all in order orderly consisting,  
Then what seem they that will not join their two  
And so be one, without unkind resisting:  
Surely no other censure pass I can,  
But she's half woman lives without a man.   

One, that deprives herself of what's her right,  
Borne unto care, and ignorant of ease,  
A lustless living thing, without delight,  
One, whom unpleasantness best seems to please:  
Deprived of life's sweet joy, from kind removed,  
Of worthless parts, unworthy to be loved.   

Who will in pain partake with such a one,  
(Whom we may most unhappy creature call,)  
Who will assist her, when her grief makes moan,  
Or who uphold her if she chance to fall:  
The burden one doth bear is light to two,  
For twisted cords are hardest to undo.   

The love and joy doth absolute remain,  
That in posterity is fixed fast,  
For thou in children art new borne again,  
When years have brought thee to thy breathspent last:  
Those olive plants, shall from each other spring,  
Till Times full period endeth every thing.   

This being thus, what senseless girls you be,  
To justify a life not worth embracing,  
Opposing silly maiden wits 'gainst me,  
That will not yield an inch to your outfacing:  
For were here present all the maids in town,  
With marriage reasons I would put them down.   Prudence. 

Kinke sisters all, now I have heard the Bride,  
Will you have my opinion, not to flatter,  
Sure I am turning to the wedding side,  
I hear such good sound reason for the matter:  
Let Grace, Doll, Bess and Susan, Mary, jane,  
Lead apes in hell, I am not of their vain.   

As sure as death i'll join myself with man,  
For I persuade me 'tis a happy life,  
I'll be a Bride with all the speed I can,  
It's wonder how I long to be a wife:  
Grace here's good counsel, had you grace to take it  
Susan 'tis sound, oh Bess do not forsake it.   

Good husbandmen we see do ever use,  
To choose for forfeit those that breed the best,  
And none will keep bad breeders that can choose,  
Even so your fowlers that often brood the nest,  
Are most esteemed, & their kinds worthiest thought  
All barren things, by all are counted nought.   

Who plants an orchard with unfruitful trees,  
None but a mad man so will waste his ground,  
Or who sows corn where only sand he sees,  
Assured that there will no increase be found:  
And in a word all that the world contains,  
Have excellence in their begetting gains.   

For my part therefore I resolve me thus,  
Unto the purpose I was borne, i'll live,  
All maids are fools that will not join with us,  
And unto men their right of marriage give:  
Most worthy Bride, here is my hand and vow,  
I love a man in heart, as well as thou.   Francis. 

Prudence, I am of your opinion just,  
A wif's farrebetter than a matchless maid,  
I'll stay no longer virgin than needs must,  
The law of Nature ought to be obeyed:  
Either we must have inward love to men,  
Or else bear hate, and so be brutish then.   

Doth not the world instruct us this by others,  
That wedlock is a remedy for sin,  
Shall we be wiser then our reverent mothers,  
That married, or we all had bastards been:  
And ere our mothers lost their maiden gem,  
Did not our grandhams even as much for them.   

From whence have you the gift to live unwed,  
Pray of what stuff are your strait bodies made,  
By what chaste spirit was your niceness bred,  
That seem of flesh to be so purely stayed:  
Are not all here made females for like ends,  
Fie, fie for shame, disemble not with friends.   

I'll tell you one thing which by proof I know,  
My mother had a cock that used to roam,  
And all the hens would to our neighbours go,  
We could not keep them for our lives at home:  
Abroad they went, though we would near so feign▪  
Until by chance we got our cock again.   

And so my father's pigeons in like sort,  
Our matchless hens about would ever fly,  
To pair with other doves they would resort,  
(Pray laugh not Susan, for it is no lie)  
I have it not from other folkes-relation,  
But from mine own, and mother's observation.   Susan. 

I laugh that you compare us to your hens,  
Or straying pigeons that abroad have flown,  
To seek about for cocks of other men's,  
Because (you say) they wanted of their own:  
But Francke, though you like them be frank and free,  
You must not judge all other so to be.   

We do not use to hunt abroad for cocks,  
But rather shun the places where they be,  
The proverb says, let geese beware the fox,  
'tis easy making prays of such as we:  
That will not keep them from the charmers charm.  
men's flatteries do maidenheads much harm.   Bride. 

Flatterers are of all to be rejected,  
As well of wives as you that are but maids,  
We praise not faults wherewith men are infected,  
Nor yield applause to every one persuades:  
Our praising men thus understand you must,  
'tis meant of those are honest, loving, just.   

Why there are men do err in what you hold,  
chaste bachelors that never mean to match,  
Who for the siugle life smooth tales have told,  
And yet the fleshly knaves will have a snatch:  
I'll ne'er trust those that of themselves do boast,  
The great'st presisians will deceive you most.   

I knew a prating fellow would maintain,  
A married man had but two merry days,  
His wedding day the joyful first of twain,  
For then God give you joy, even all men says:  
The second merry day of married life,  
Is that whereon he burieth his wife.   

And women unto ships he would compare,  
Saying as they continually lack mending,  
So wives still out of repairations are,  
And urge their husbands daily unto spending:  
Yea worse disgrace, he would presume to speak▪  
Which I will spare, lest I offend the weak.   

But note the badness of this wretch's life,  
That counted women abject things forsaken,  
He raune away at last with's neighbours wife,  
Worthy of hanging were the rascal taken:  
Such odious acts have such dishonest mates,  
that against marriage, rude and senseless prates.   

But you most wilful wenches that oppose,  
Against the state that you are borne to honour,  
A prophesy unto you I'll disclose,  
And she that here doth take most nice upon her:  
Pray note it well, for there is matter in it,  
And for to do you good thus I begin it.   

When fish with fowl change elements together,  
The one forsaking air, the other water,  
And they that wore the fin, to wear the feather,  
Remaining changelings all the world's time after:  
The course of nature will be so beguiled,  
One maid shall get another maid with child.   

When every Crow shall turn to be a Parrot,  
And every Star outshine the glorious Sun,  
And the new water works run white and claret,  
That come to town by way of Islington,  
Women and men shall quite renounce each other.  
And maids shall be with child, like Merlin's mother.   Grace. 

Like Merlin's mother, how was that I pray,  
For I have heard he was a cunning man,  
There lines not such another at this day,  
Nor ever was, since Britain's first began:  
Tell us the story, and we well will mind it.  
Because they say, In written books we find it.   Bride. 

Marry this Merlin's mother was welsh Lady,  
That lived in Carnarvan beauteous maid,  
And love of Lords and Knights she did not way by,  
But set all light, and every one denied:  
All Gentlemen, (as all you know be there,)  
That came a wooing were no wit the near.   

At length it happened that this gallant girl,  
Which scorned all men that she ever saw,  
Holding herself to be a matchless Pearl,  
And such a loadstone that could Lovers draw:  
Grew bellyful, exceeding big and plump,  
Which put her Mayden-credit in a dump.   

Time running course, and her full stomach fed,  
When consummation of few months expired,  
She husbandless, a maid was brought to bed,  
Of that rare Merlin that the world admired:  
This to be honest, all her friends did doubt i●,  
Much prittle prattle was in Wales about it.   

So that ere long, the strangeness of the thing,  
To hear that Lady Adhan had a child,  
Caused famous Arthur, (being Britain's King)  
Send for her to the Court, and reason mild:  
To know how this rare matter could be done,  
And make her find a father for her son.   

She told his Majesty with sighs and tears,  
That keeping beauty careful from the Sun,  
Within her chamber safely shut from fears,  
Till Phoebus' horses to the West were run:  
The doors fast locked, and she herself alone,  
Came in a gallant stranger, mere unknown.   

Who ever came in courting manner to her,  
With all the loving courage could be thought:  
So powerful in persuasions force to woe her,  
That to his will constrained she was brought:  
Although her heart did firm denial vow,  
Yet she was forced to yield and knew not how.   

So oft he came (quoth she) private and strange,  
When I shut up myself in most sad humour,  
That I began to find an inward change,  
Which brought me quickly to an outward tumour:  
An't please your highness I was in such case,  
That to the world I durst not show my face.   

My foes rejoiced, all my friends were sad,  
Myself in sorrow spent both day and night,  
No satisfaction my wronged honour had,  
Was never maid in such perplexed plight:  
To be with child whether I will or no,  
And for my child, no human father know.   

Had I been married (quoth she) as I ought,  
And with my love, the love of man requited,  
I had not to this woeful state been brought,  
In all contempt, disgracefully despited:  
And termed strumpet by the rude uncivil,  
Who say my son is bastard to the devil.   

Wherefore I wish Ladies of my degree,  
And all the rest inferior sorts of maids,  
To rake a warning (for their good) by me,  
Yielding affection when kind men persuades:  
And hate disdain that vile accursed sin,  
Lest they be plagued for pride as I have been.   

How say you to this warning wenches now,  
That Lady Adhan gives unto you all,  
Were you not better marriage to allow,  
Then in a manner for a Midwife call:  
I think you were if I might judge the cause,  
How say you Susan, speak good Doll and Grace.   Grace. 

This is a story that seems very strange,  
And for my part, it doth me full persuade,  
My Maidenhead with some man to exchange,  
I will not live in danger of a maid:  
The world the flesh, the devil tempts us still,  
I'll have a husband, I protest I will.   

If I were sure none of you here would blab,  
I would even tell you of a dream most true,  
And if I lie, count me the veriest drab,  
That ever any of you saw or knew:  
When a friend speaks in kindness do not wrong her:  
For I can keep it (for my life) no longer.   

One night (I have the day of month set down)  
Because I will make serious matters sure,  
Me thought I went a journey out of town,  
And with a proper man I was made sure:  
As sure as death, me thought we were assured,  
And all things for the business were procured.   

We did agree, and faith and troth did plight,  
And he gave me, and I gave him a Ring,  
To do as Mistress Bride will do at night,  
And I protest me thought he did the thing:  
The thing we stand so much upon he took,  
And I upon the matter big did look.   

Forsooth (in sadness,) I was big with child,  
And had a belly, (marry God forbidden,)  
Then fell a weeping, but he laughed and smiled,  
And boldly said, we'll stand to what we did:  
Fie, fie (quoth I) who ever stands I fall,  
Farewell my credit, maidenhead and all.   

Thus as I cried and wept and wrong my hands,  
And said dear maids and maidenhead adieu,  
Before my face me thought my mother stands,  
And questioned with me how this matter grew:  
With that I start awake as we are now,  
Yet feared my dream had been no dream I vow.   

I could not (for my life) tell how to take it,  
For I was stricken in a mighty maze,  
Therefore if marriage come I'll not forsake it,  
'tis danger to live virgin divers ways,  
I would not in such fear again be found,  
Without a husband, for a thousand pound.   Susan. 

Is it even so Grace, are you come to this,  
You that persuaded me from love of late,  
When you knew who, sent me a Ring of his:  
And would have had me been his turtle mate,  
You cunningly did make me to forsake him,  
Because I think in conscience you will take him.   

I'll trust your word another time again,  
That can dissemble so against your heart,  
Wishing that I should earnestly refrain,  
From that which thou thyself embracer art:  
This is brave doing, I commend you Grace,  
But i'll near trust you more in such a case.   Bride. 

I pray you here let this contention end,  
(We being all of self same woman kind,)  
And each the other, with advise befriend,  
Because I see some of you well inclined:  
To take good ways, and so become good wives,  
I'll teach you certain rules to lead your lives.   

You that intent the honourable life,  
And would with joy live happy in the same,  
Must note eight duties do concern a wife,  
To which with all endeavour she must frame:  
And so in peace possess her husband's love,  
And all distaste from both their hearts remove.   

The first is that she have domestic cares,  
Of private business for the house within,  
Leaving her husband unto his affairs,  
Of things abroad that out of doors have been:  
By him performed as his charge to do,  
Not busy-body like inclined thereto.   

Thus as I cried and wept and wrong my hands,  
And said dear maids and maidenhead adieu,  
Before my face me thought my mother stands,  
And questioned with me how this matter grew:  
With that I start awake as we are now,  
Yet feared my dream had been no dream I vow.   

I could not (for my life) tell how to take it,  
For I was stricken in a mighty maze,  
Therefore if marriage come I'll not forsake it,  
'tis danger to live virgin divers ways,  
I would not in such fear again be found,  
Without a husband, for a thousand pound.   Susan. 

Is it even so Grace, are you come to this,  
You that persuaded me from love of late,  
When you knew who, sent me a Ring of his:  
And would have had me been his turtle mate,  
You cunningly did make me to forsake him,  
Because I think in conscience you will take him.   

I'll trust your word another time again,  
That can dissemble so against your heart,  
Wishing that I should earnestly refrain,  
From that which thou thyself embracer art:  
This is brave doing, I commend you Grace,  
But i'll near trust you more in such a case.   Bride. 

I pray you here let this contention end,  
(We being all of self same woman kind,)  
And each the other, with advise befriend,  
Because I see some of you well inclined:  
To take good ways, and so become good wives,  
I'll teach you certain rules to lead your lives.   

You that intent the honourable life,  
And would with joy live happy in the same,  
Must note eight duties do concern a wife,  
To which with all endeavour she must frame:  
And so in peace possess her husband's love,  
And all distaste from both their hearts remove.   

The first is that she have domestic cares,  
Of private business for the house within,  
Leaving her husband unto his affairs,  
Of things abroad that out of doors have been:  
By him performed as his charge to do,  
Not busy-body like inclined thereto.   

Nor intermeddling as a number will,  
Of foolish gossips, such as do neglect,  
The things which do concern them, and too ill,  
Presume in matters unto no effect:  
Beyond their element, when they should look,  
To what is done in Kitchen by the Cook.   

Or unto children's virtuous education,  
Or to their maids that they good housewives be,  
And carefully contain a decent fashion,  
That nothing pass the lymmits of degree:  
Knowing her husband's business from her own,  
And diligent do that, let his alone.   

The second duty of the wife is this,  
(Which she in mind ought very careful bear)  
To entertain in house such friends of his,  
As she doth know have husbands welcome there:  
Not her acquaintance without his consent,  
For that way jealousy breeds discontent.   

An honest woman will the scandal shun,  
Of that report is made of wantonness,  
And fear her credit will to ruin run,  
When evil speakers do her shame express:  
And therefore from this rule a practice draws,  
That the effect may cease, remove the cause.   

Th'ird duty is, that of no proud pretence,  
She move her husband to consume his means,  
With urging him to needless vain expense,  
Which toward the Counter, or to Ludgate leans:  
For many idle housewives (London knows)  
Have by their pride been husbands overthrows.   

A modest woman will in compass keep,  
And decently unto her calling go,  
Not diving in the frugal purse too deep,  
By making to the world a peacock show:  
Though they seem fools, so yield unto their wives,  
Some poor men do it to have quiet lives.   

Fourth duty is, to love her own house best,  
And be no gadding gossip up and down,  
To hear and carry tales amongst the rest,  
That are the news reporters of the town:  
A modest woman's home is her delight,  
Of business there, to have the oversight.   

At public plays she never will be known,  
And to be tavern guest she ever hates,  
She scorns to be a streete-wife (Idle one,)  
Or field wife ranging with her walking mates:  
She knows how wise men censure of such dames,  
And how with blots they blemish their good names.   

And therefore with the dove she'll rather choose,  
To make abode where she hath dwelling place,  
Or like the snail that shelly house doth use,  
For shelter still, such is good-huswives case:  
Respecting residence where she doth love,  
As those good householders, the snail and dove.   

Fist duty of a wife unto her head,  
Is her ohedience to reform his will,  
And never with a self conceit be led,  
That her advise proves good, his counsel ill:  
In judgement being singular alone,  
As having all the wit, her husband none.   

She must not think her wisdom to be thus,  
(For we alas are weaklings unto men)  
What singular good thing remains in us,  
Of wise ones in a thousand, show me ten,  
Her stock of wit, that hath the most (I say,)  
Hath scarce enough for spending every day.   

When as the husband bargains hath to make,  
In things that are depending on his trade,  
Let not wife's boldness, power unto her take,  
As though no match were good but what she made  
For she that thus hath oar in husband's boat,  
Let her take breech, and give him petticoat.   

sixth duty is, to pacify his ire,  
although she find that he empatient be,  
For hasty words, like fuel add to fire,  
And more, and more insenceth wrath's degree:  
When she perceives his choler in a fit,  
Let her forbear, and that's a sign of wit.   

Many occasions unto men do fall,  
Of adverse crosses, women not conceive,  
To find us honey, they do meet with gall,  
Their toil for us, do their own joys bereave:  
Great shame it were, that we should add their woe,  
That do maintain, and keep, and love us so.   

If that a hasty word sometime be spoke,  
Let us not censure therefore they are foes,  
Say 'tis infirmity that doth provoke,  
Their hearts are sorry for their tongues God knows:  
Since we by proof each day and hour find,  
For one harsh word; they give ten thousand kind   

The seventh duty that she must endeavour,  
Is to observe her husband's disposition,  
And thereunto conform herself for ever,  
In all obedient sort, with meek submission:  
Resolving that as his conditions are,  
Her rules of life she must according square.   

His virtues and good parts which she doth find,  
she must endeavour for to imitate,  
The vices whereunto he is inclined,  
She must in patience bear in mild estate:  
So that the meekness of her loving carriage,  
May be peacemaker, of all strife in marriage.   

She must not do as foolish women use,  
When they are met about the gossippes' chat,  
Their absent husbands with their tongues abuse,  
But utterly abhor to offer that:  
Resolving that a husband's least disgrace,  
Sold cause the wife to have a blushing face.   

The eight last duty she must take upon her,  
To bind all other seven to be done,  
Is love and chief regard to husband's honour,  
Which if at true affection it begun:  
Then be he poor, or sick, or in distress,  
See still remains most firm in faithfulness.   

Best in adversity it will appear,  
What constancy within the heart remains,  
No testimony can be found more clear,  
Then friend in trouble that his love explains:  
For such a one we may resolve is true,  
That changeth not, though fortune turn from you.   

And thus fair virgins, to you all farewell,  
What I have spoken do proceed from love,  
The joys of marriage I want art to tell,  
And therefore no more talk, but try and prove:  
With wedding rings, be wives of credit known  
God send good husbands to you every one.   
FINIS.