The Bachelor's Banquet OR, A Banquet for Bachelors, Wherein is prepared sundry dainty dishes to furnish their tables, curiously dressed, and seriously served in.  
Pleasantly discoursing the variable humours of Women, their quickness of wits, and unsearchable deceits.  

View them well, but taste not,  
Regard them well, but waste not.   
LONDON, Printed for Edward Thomas at the Adam and Eve in Little-Brittain, 1677.   


You Bachelors that with us mean to feast,  
Come all and welcome to our homely fare;  
If at our Banquet you will be a Guest,  
Here at our furnished Table take a share:  
Our Ordinary is but six pence price.  
Variety of dishes, be not nice.   

We must confess our board it is not spread  
As is the married man's, with Carp and Lout;  
We do not use to feed upon Codshead,  
Crabs, Ill-pies, Gudgeon, nor the dogged Pout:  
For flesh, we taste no sauce, no Lomb, no Quail,  
No Woodcock, Widgeon, Bittern, Goose nor Rail.   

For our last service, we feed not on Choose;  
Small-reasons, Bitter-almonds, nor choak-pears;  
We eat the best, and do the worst refuse,  
Have good content, and sing away sad cares:  
Good diet, English beer, and Spanish sherry,  
Come Bachelors than let us all be merry.    

The Bachelor's Banquet: Or a Banquet for Bachelors: wherein is prepared sundry dishes to furnish their Table: Curiously dressed, and seriously served in.  

CHAP. I. The humour of a young wife new married.  
IT is the natural inclination of a young Gallant in the pleasant prime, and flower of his flourishing youth being fresh lusty and jocund, to take no other care but to employ his money to buy gay presents for pretty lasses, to frame his green wits in penning love Ditties, his voice to sing them sweetly, his wand'ring eyes to gaze on the fairest dames and his wanton thoughts to plot means for the speedy accomplishment of his wished desires, according to the compass of his estate. And albeit his parents or some other of his kindred, do perhaps furnish him with necessary maintenance, so that he wants nothing, but lives in all ease & delight; yet cannot this content him, or satisfy his unexperienced mind: for although he daily see many married men first leapt in lobs pound, wanting former liberty, and compassed round in a a cage of many cares, yet notwithstanding overruled by self-will, and blind by folly he supposes them therein to have the fullness of their delight, because they have so near them the Image of content Venus' star gloriously blazing upon them, I mean a dainty fair wife bravely attired, whose apparel perhaps is not yet paid for, howsoever (to draw their husband into a fools paradise) they make them believe that their father or mother have of their cost, & bounty afforded it. This lusty youth (as I erst said) seeing them already in this maze of bitter sweetness, he goes round about, turmoiling himself in seeking an entrance, and taking such pains to find his own pain, that in the end, in he gets, when for the hast he makes to have a taste of these supposed delicates he hath no leisure to think, or no care to provide those things that are hereunto requisite. The jolly Younker being thus gotten in, doth for a time swim in delight, and hath no desire at all to wind himself out again, till time and use which makes all things more familiar and less pleasing, do qualify this humour: then glutted with satiety, or pinched with penury, he may perhaps begin to see his folly, & repent as well his fundness, as his too much forwardness, but all too late, he must have patience perforce: his wife must be maintained according to her degree, and withal (commonly it haps she carries the right stomach of a Woman) slender maintenence will not serve, for as their minds mount above their estates, so commonly they will have their abiliments. And if at a feast or some other gossips meeting whereunto she is invited, she see any of the company gaily attired for cost or fashion, or both, or chief the latter, for generally women do affect novelties, she forthwith moves a question in herself, why she also should not be in the like sort attired, to have her garments cut after the new fashion as well as the rest, and answers it with resolution, that she will and must have the like: A waiting only fit time and place for the moving and winning of her husband thereunto, of both which she will make such choice, that when she speaks she will be sure to speed; observing her opportunity when she might take her husband at the most advantage, which is commonly the garden of love, the state of marriage delights, and the life wherein the weaker sex hath ever the better: when therefore this lusty Gallant would fulfil his desire, for which cause he chief ran wilfully into the peril of lobs pound, then squeamishly she gins thus, saying, I pray you husband let me alone, trouble me not, for I am not well at ease: which he hearing, presently makes this reply.  
Why my sweet heart what ails you, are you not well: I pray thee wife tell me, where lies thy grief? or what is the cause of your discontent? whereupon the vile woman fetching a deep sigh makes this answer? O Husband, God help me, I have cause enough to grieve, and if you knew all you would say so: but alas it is in vain to tell you any thing, seeing that whatsoever I say, you make but little reckoning of it: and therefore it is best for me to bury my sorrows in silence, being out of hope to have any help at your hands. jesus, wife (saith he) why use you these words? is my unkindness such, that I may not know your grief: tell me I say, what is the matter? In truth husband it were to no purpose, for I know your custom well enough; as for my words they are but waste wind in your ears, for how great soever my grief is, I am assured you will but make light of it, and think that I speak it for some other purpose.  
Go to Wife, saith her husband, tell it me, for I will know it. Well husband, if you will needs, you shall. You know on Thursday last, I was sent for, and you willed me to go to Mistress M. Churching, and when I came thither, I found great cheer, and no small company of wives, but the meanest of them all was not so ill attired as I, and surely I, was never so ashamed of myself in my life: Yet I speak it not to praise myself, but it is well known, and I dare boldly say, that the best women there, came of no better stock than I. But alas, I speak not this for myself, for God wots I pass not how meanly I am apparelled, but I speak it for your credit, and my friends. Why Wife, saith he, of what calling and degree were those you speak of? Truly good Husband (saith she) the meanest that was there, being but of my degree, was in her lose Gown, with hanging sleeves, her French Roses, her Silk Grograine Kirtle, her Beaver Hat, with a Gold Band, and these with the rest of her attire, made of the newest fashion which is known the best: Whereas I poor wretch had on my threadbare Gown, which was made me so long ago, against I was married, besides that it was now too short for me, for it is I remember, since it was made about three years ago, since which time I am grown very much, and so changed with cares and griefs, that I look far older than I am: Trust me, I was so ashamed, being amongst my neighbours, that I had not the heart to look up, but that which grieved me most was when Mistress Luce B. and Mistress T. said openly that it was a shame both for you and me, that I had no better Apparel. Tush Wife (quoth the good man) let them say what they list, we are never a whit the worse for their words, we have enough to do with our money, though we spend it not in Apparel: You know Wife, when we met together, we had no great store of Householdstuff, but were fain to buy it afterward by some and some, as God sent money, and yet you see we want many things that are necessary to be had: Besides the Quarter Day is near, and my Landlord you know will not forbear his Rent: Moreover, you see how much it costs me in Law about the recovering of the tenement which I should have by you: God send me to get it quickly, or else I shall have but a bad bargain of it, for it hath already almost cost me as much as it is worth. At these words his Wife's choler gins to rise, whereupon she makes him this answer. Goodly, goodly, (saith she) when you have nothing else to hit me in the teeth withal, ye twit me with the tenement; but it is my fortune. Why how now Wife saith her Husband, are you now angry for nothing Nay, I am not angry, I must be content with that which God hath ordained for me: But I wis the time was, when I might have been better advised, there are some yet living that would have been glad to have me in my smock, whom you know well enough to be proper young men and therewithal wise and wealthy: but I verily suppose I was bewitched to match witch a man that loves me not: though I purchased the ill will of all my friends for his sake, this is all the good that I have gotten thereby: I may truly say I am the most unhappy Woman in the world: Do you think that Law. Tom. and N. M. (who were both suitors to me) do keep their Wives so? no by lady, for I know the worst  that they cast off, are better than my very best which I wear on the chiefest days in the year: I know not what the cause is that so many good women die, but I would to God that I were dead too, that I might trouble you no more, seeing I am such an eye sore unto you. Now by my faith wife, saith he, you say not well, there is nothing that I think too good for you, if my ability can compass it. But you know our estate, we must do as we may, and not as we would, yet be of good cheer, and I will strain myself to please you, in this or any other thing.  
Nay, I have no mind on such matters, and if you had no more desire thereto than I, I promise you, you would never touch me. No Wife (saith he) hoping so with a jest to make her merry, by my honesty I swear, I verily think that if I were dead, you would not be long without another husband. No marvel sure saith she, I lead such a good life with you now, By my Christian soul I swear, there should never a man kiss my lips again. And if I thought I should live long with you, I would use means to make myself away: Herewithal she puts finger in the eye, making show as though she wept: Thus plays she with the silly sot her husband (meaning nothing less than to do as she says) while he poor fool is in mind both well and ill paid: he thinks himself well, because he imagines her of a cold constitution, and therefore exceeding chaste: he thinks himself ill, to see her feigned tears, for that he verily supposes she loves him, which doth not a little grieve him, being so kind and tender hearted. Therefore he useth all means possible to make her quiet, never will he give her over, while he hath effected it. But she prosecuting her former purpose which she hath already set in so fair a forwardness, makes as though she were nothing moved with his gentle persuasions: Therefore to cross him, she gets her up betimes in the morning, sooner a great deal than she was wont, pouting and lowering, all the day, and not giving him one good word. But when night comes, and they again both in bed, laying herself sullenly down, and continuing still silent, the good man hearkens whether she sleep or no, feels if she be well covered or not, he softly plucks up the clothes upon her, lapping her warm, being double diligent to please her. She lying all this while winking, noring his kindness and carefulness towards her, seems on a sudden to awake from a sound sleep, gruntling and nusling under the sheets giving him occasion thereby thus to begin. How now sweet heart, what are you asleep? Asleep (saith she) faith Sir no: a troubled mind can never take good rest. Why woman are you not quiet yet? No doubt (saith she) you care much whether I be or no. By lady wife and so I do: and since yesternight, I have bethought me (having well considered your words) that it is very meet and requisite, that you should be better furnished with apparel than heretofore you have been, for indeed I must confess thy  are too simple; and therefore I mean against my cousin M. wedding (which you know will be shortly) that you shall have a new gown made on the best fashion, with all things suitable thereunto, in such sort that the best woman in the parish shall not pass you. Nay (quoth she) God willing I mean to go to no weddings this twelve month, for the goodly credit I got by the last By my faith (saith he) but you shall, what? you must not be so headstrong and selfwilled. I tell you if I say the word you shall go, and you shall want nothing that you ask or require. That I ask? alas husband (quoth she) I ask nothing, neither did I speak this for any desire that I have to go brave, trust me, for my own part I care not if I never stir abroad save only to Church: but what I said was upon the speeches which were there used, and such other like words, which my Gossip N. told me that she had also heard in company where she was. With these words the good kind fool her husband is nettled, for on the one side he considers his sundry other occasions to use money & his small store thereof, which is perhaps so slender, that his single purse cannot extempore change a double pistolet. And so ill bestead of household stuff, that perhaps the third part is not a sufficient pawn for so much money as this new suit of his Wives will stand him in. But one the other side he weighs her discontent, the report of neighbour's speeches, and lastly how good a Wife he hath of her, how chaste, how loving, how religious, whereof the kind Ass hath such an opinion, that he thanks God with all his heart, for blessing him with such a jewel: In this thought he resolves that all other things set aside, he must and will content her. And herewithal he sets his brains afresh on work, to consider how best he may compass it: And in this humour he spends the whole night without sleep, in continual thought. And it comes to pass that the Wife perceiving to what a point she hath brought her purpose, doth not a little rejoice and smile in her sleeve to see it. The next morning by the break of day the poor man gets up who for care and thought could take no rest all night, and goes presently to the Drapers, of whom he takes up cloth for three month's time, paying for it after an execssive rate, by reason of their forbearance, and in like sort makes provision for the rest; for perhaps because he would buy it at a better rate, he pawns for ready money the Lease of his house, or some fair piece of plate, which his grandfather bought, and his father charily keeping, left for him which now he is enforced to part with, to furnish thereby his wife's pride; and having thus dispatched his business he returns home with a merry heart, and shows his Wife what he hath done: who being now sure of all, gins to curse the first inventors of pride, and excess in apparel: saying, Fie upon it, what pride is this? but I pray you husband, do not say hereafter that I made you lay out your money in this needless sort, for I protest that I have no delight or desire to go thus garishly: If I have to cover my body and keep me warm, it contents me. The good man hearing his Wife say so, doth even leap for joy, thinking all her words Gospel, and therefore presently he sets the tailor a work, willing him to dispatch out of hand, that his wife may be brave so soon as may be. She having thus obtained her purpose, doth inwardly triumph for very joy, howsoever outwardly she doth dissemble, And whereas before she vaunted, that she could find in her heart to keep always within doors, she will be sure now every good day to go abroad, and at each feast and Gossips meeting to be a continual guest, that all may see her bravery, and how well she doth become it, for which cause she also comes every Sunday daily to the Church, that there she may see and be seen, which her Husband thinks she doth of mere devotion. But in the mean while the time runs on, and the day comes wherein the poor man must pay his Creditors, which being unable to do, he is at length arrested, and after due proceeding in Law, he hath an Execution served upon him, or his pawn is forfeited, and by either of both he is almost utterly undone. Then must his fine wife of force veil her peacocks plumes, and fall again to her old bias, keeping her house against her will, because she could not be furnished with gay attire according to her mind. But God knoweth in what misery the silly man doth live, being daily vexed with her brawling and scolding, exclaiming against him, that all the house doth ring thereof, and in this sort she gins her vagaries: Now cursed be the day that ever I saw thy face, and a shame take them that brought me first acquainted with thee: I would to God I had either died in my cradle. or gone to my grave when I went to be married with thee. Was ever woman of my degree and birth brought to this beggary? or any of my bringing up kept thus basely and brought to this shame? I which little knew what labour meant, must now toil and tend the house as a drudge having never a coat to my back, or scant handsome hose to my legs, and yet all little enough, whereas, I wis, I might have had twenty good marriages, in the meanest of which I should have lived at ease and pleasure, without being put to any pain, or suffering any penury. Wretch that I am, why do I live? Now would to God I were in my grave already, for I am weary of the World, weary of my life, and weary of all. Thus doth she daily complain, and lay all the fault of her fall on him which least deserved it, nothing remembering her own pride, in coveting things above their estate or ability, her misgovernment, and daily gadding with her Gossips to Banquets and Bridals, when she should have looked to her house and followed her own business at home. And his folly is also such, that being blinded with dotage, (through too much loving her,) cannot perceive that she is the cause of all this evil, of all the cares, griefs, and thoughts, which perplex and torture him, and yet nothing cuts him so much as this, to see her so fumish and unquiet, whom if he can any time somewhat pacify, then is his heart somewhat at rest. Thus doth the silly wretch ross and turmoil himself in Lob's pound, wrapped in a kind of pleasing woe, out of the which he hath neither power nor will to wind himself: but therein doth consume the remnant of his languishing life, and miserably end his days.   

CHAP. II. The humour of a woman pranked up in brave apparel.  
THe nature of a woman inclined to another kind of humour (which is this) when the wife seeing herself bravely apparelled, and that she is therewith fair and comely, (or if she be not) yet thinking herself so (as women are naturally given to soothe themselves) she doth, as I said before, haunt after feasts and solemn meetings, wherewith her husband perhaps is not very well pleased: which she perceiving, the more to bleer his eyes, she takes with her some kinswoman, or Gossip, or possibly some lusty Gallant, of whom she claims kindred, though in very deed there be no such matter, but only a smooth colour to deceive her husband: And perchance to induce him the sooner to believe it, her mother (which is privy to the match) will not stick to say and swear it is so: Yet sometime the husband to prevent his wives gadding, will feign some left; as want of horses or other like hindrances: then presently the Gossip or Kinswoman (of whom before I spoke) will thus solemnly assault him.  
Believe me Gossip, I have as little pleasure as who hath least in going abroad, for I wis I had not so much business to do this xii months as I have at this instant: yet should I not go to this wedding, being so kindly bidden, I know the young Bride would take it in very ill part. Yea and (I may say to you) so would our neighbours, and other our friends which will be there, who would verily imagine, we keep away for some other cause: and were it not for this I protest I would not stir out of doors, neither would my Cousin your wife have any desire to go thither: thus much I can truly witness that I never knew any woman take less delight in such things than your wife; or which being abroad, will make more haste to be at home again.  
The silly man her Husband, being vanquished by these words, and no longer able to deny their request, demands only what other women do appoint to go, and who shall man them? Marry Sir: (saith she) that shall my Cousin H. And besides your wife and I, there goes my Kinswoman T. and her Mother, Mistress H. and her Aunt: my Uncle T. & his Brother, to be met with both their wives, Mistress C. my next neighbour: and to conclude, all the women of account in this street: (I dare boldly say) that honester Company there cannot be, though it were to convey a King's Daughter.  
Now it oft chanced that this smooth tongued Oratrix who pleads thus quaintly with woman's art, must have for her pains a Gown cloth, a jewel, or some other recompense, if she prevail with the good man, and cunningly play her part. He after some pause (perhaps) will reply in this sort: Gossip, I confess it is very good company but my wife hath now great business at home, and besides she useth to go very much abroad, yet for this time I am content she shall go. But I pray you Dame (quoth he) be at home betimes. His wife seeing that her gossip had gotten leave makes as if she cares not for going forth, saying: By my faith man I have something else to do, than to go a Bridal at this present: what? we have a great household, and rude servants (God wots) whose idleness is such, that they will not do any thing, if a bodies back be turned: for it is an old Proverb: (When the Cat is away the Mouse will play.) And therefore Gossip hold you content, we must not be altogether careless nor set so much by our pleasure to neglect our profit: And therefore hold me excused, for I cannot now be spared nor I will not go, that is flat. Nay good gossip (saith the other) seeing your husband hath given you leave, let us have your company this once, and if it be but for my sake, such a chance as this comes not every day. With that the good man taking the old Gyb aside, whispers her thus in the ear: were it not Gossip for the confidence I repose in you, I protest she should not stir out of doors at this time. Now as I am an honest woman (quoth she) and of my credit Gossip, you shall not need to doubt any thing.  
Thus to horse they get, and away they spur with a merry gallop, laughing to themselves, mocking and flouting the silly man for his simplicity: the one saying to the other, that he had a shrewd jealous brain, but it should avail him nothing. Tush (said the young woman) it is an old saying, He had need have a long spoon that will eat with the devil, and she of a good wit that would prevent the fury of a jealous fool: and with this and the like ralk, they pass the time till they come to the place appointed, where they meet with lusty Gallants, who (peradventure) had at the former feast made the match and were come thither of purpose to strike up the bargain. But howsoever it is, this lusty Lass lacks no good cheer, nor any kindness which they can show her.  
Imagine now how forward she will be to show her best skill in dancing and singing, and how lightly she will afterward esteem her husband being thus courted and commended by a crew of lusty Gallants, who seeing her so bravely attired, and graced with so sweet and smooth a tongue, so sharp a wit, so amiable a countenance, will each strive to exceed other, in serving, loving, and pleasing her: for the gallant carriage and wanton demeanour of so beautiful a piece, cannot choose but encourage a mere coward, and heat (if not inflame) a frozen heart: One assays her with sugared terms, and some pleasant discourse, painting forth his affection with Lover's eloquence: Another gives her a privy token, by straining her soft hand, or treading upon her pretty foot: Another eyes her with a piercing and pitiful look, making his countenance his fancy's Herald: and perhaps the third (which is most likely to speed) bestows upon her a gold Ring, a Diamond, a Ruby or some such like costly toy: By all which aforesaid tokens, she may well conceive their meanings, (if she have any conceit at all;) and sometimes it so falls out, that they fall in where they should not: and she stepping somewhat aside, doth so shrewdly strain her honesty, that hardly or never the grief can be cured. But to proceed this over-gorgeous wantoning of his wife, dring the poor man behind hand, and doth withal cause a greater inconvenience; for in the end by one means or other, either through her too much boldness, or her Lovers-want of wariness, the matter at length comes to light, whereof some friend or kinsman gives him notice.  
He being tickled by this bad report, thereupon searching further, finds it true, or gathers more likelihood of suspicion, & that presently infects his thoughts with jealousy, into which mad tormenting humour, no wise man will ever fall: for it is an evil both extreme and endless, especially (if it be justly conceived) upon the wives known leadness, for then there is no hope of curing. She on the other side seeing this, and receiving for her lose life many bitter speeches, doth closely keep on her old course, but now more for spite than pleasure; for it is in vain to think that she will reclaim herself. And if he (hoping by constraint to make her honest) fall to beating her, (though he use never so much severity) he shall but kindle so much more the fire of that lewd love, which she bears unto others: Hereon follows a heap of mischiefs; he grows careless of his business, letting all things run to ruin: she on the other side becomes shameless, converting into deadly hate the love that she should bear him. judge now what a purgatory of perplexities the poor man doth live in: and yet for all this he is so besotted, that he seems to take great pleasure in his pains, and to be so far in love with Lob's pound, that were he not already in, yet he would make all haste possible to be possessed of the place, there to consume the residue of his life, and miserably end his days.   

CHAP. III. The humour of a woman lying in Child bed.  
THere is another humour incident to a woman, when her husband sees her belly to grow big (though peradventure by the help of some other friend) yet he persuades himself it is a work of his own framing: and this breeds him new cares and troubles, for than must he troth up and down day and night, far and near, to get with great cost that his wife longs for? if she let fall but a pin, he is diligent to take it up, lest she by stooping should hurt herself; She on the other side is so hard to please, that it is a great hap when he fits her humour, in bringing home that which likes her. though he spare no pains nor cost to get it. And oft times through ease and plenty she grows so queasy stomacht, that she can brook no common meats, but long for strange and rare things, which whether they be to be had or no, yet she must have them, there is no remedy. She must have Cherries, though for a pound he pay ten shillings, or green Peascods at four nobles a peck: yea, he must take a horse and ride into the Country, to get her green coddlings, when they are scarce so big as a scotch button. In this trouble and vexation of mind and body, lives the silly man for six or seven months, all which time his wife doth nothing but complain, and he poor soul takes all the care, rising early, going late to bed, and to be short, is fain to play both the husband and the huswife. But when the time draws near of her lying down, then must he trudge to get Gossips, such as she will appoint, or else all the fat's in the fire. Consider then what cost and trouble it will be to him, to have all things fine against the Christening day, what store of Sugar, Biscuits, Comphets and Caraways, Marmalet, and Marchpane, with all kind of sweet suckets and superfluous banqueting stuff, with a hundred other odd and needless trifles, which at that time must fill the pockets of dainty dames: Besides the charge of the Midwife, she must have her nurse to attend and keep her, who must make for her warm broths, and costly caudles, enough both for herself and her mistress; being of the mind to far no worse than she: If her mistress be fed with partridge, plover, woodcocks, quails, or any such like, the nurse must be partner with her in all these dainties: neither yet will that suffice, but during the whole month she privily pilfers away the sugar, the nutmegs and ginger, with all other spices that comes under her keeping, putting the poor man to such expense, that in a whole year he can scarcely recover that one month's charges. Then every day after her lying down, will sundry dames visit her, which are her neighbours, her kinswomen, and other her special acquaintance, whom the good man must welcome with all cheerfulness, and be sure there be some dainties in store to set before them: where they about some three or four hours (or possibly half a day) will sit chatting with the Childwife. And by that time the cups of wine have merrily trolled about, and half a dozen times moistened their lips with the sweet juice of the purple grape: They begin thus one with another to discourse; Good Lord neighbour, I marvel how our Gossip Frees doth, I have not seen the good soul this many a day.  
Oh God help her, quoth another, for she hath her hands full of work, and her heart full of heaviness: While she drudges all the week at home, her husband like an unthrift never leaves running abroad to the Tennis court, and dicing houses, spending all that ever he hath in such lewd sort: yea, and if that were the worst it is well: but hear you Gossip, there is another matter spoils all, he cares no more for his wife, than for a dog, but keeps queans even under her nose: jesus faith another, who would think he were such a man, he behaves himself to orderly and civilly to all men's sights: Tush, hold your peace Gossip (saith the other) it is commonly seen, the still sow eats up all the draff, he carries a sooth countenance, but a corrupt conscience: That I know F. well enough, I will not say he loves mistress G. go too Gossip, I drink to you. Yea (and saith another) there goes foul lies if G. himself loves not his maid N. I can tell you their mouths will not be stopped with a bushel of wheat that speak it. Then the third fetching a great sigh, saying, by my troth such another bold Bettress have I at home: for never give me credit Gossip, if I took her not the other day in close conference with her Master; but I think I beswadld my maid in such sort, that she will have small lift to do so again. Nay Gossip (saith another) had it been to me, that should not have served her turn, but I would have turned the quean out of doors to pick a Salad, for wots you what Gossip? It is ill setting fire and flax together: but I pray you tell me one thing, when saw you our friend Mistress C. Now in good sooth she is a kind creature, and a very gentle Peat: I promise you I saw her not since you and I drank a pint of Wine with her in the fish market. O Gossip (saith another) there is a great change since that time, for they have been fain to pawn all that ever they have, and yet God knows her husband lies in prison. O the passion of my heart (saith another) is all their great and glorious show come to nothing? good Lord what a world is this? Why Gossip (saith another) it was never like to be otherwise, for they loved ever to go fine, and fair daintily, and by my faith Gossip, this is not a world for those matters, and thereupon I drink to you. This is commonly their communication, where they find cheer according to their choice. But if it happen contrary, that they find not things in such plenty and good order as they would wish, than one or other of them will talk to this effect: Trust me gossip, I marvel much and so do all our other friends, that your Husband is not ashamed to make so small account of you, and this your sweet child if he be such a niggard at the first, what will he be by that time he hath five or six? it doth well appear he bears but little love to you whereas your vouchsafing to match with him hath done him more credit than ever had any of his kindred. Before God, saith another, I had rather see my husband's eyes our than he should serve me so: therefore if you be wise use him not to it: neither in this sort let him tread you under foot: I tell you it is a foul shame for him, and you may be well assured sigh he gins thus that hereafter he will use you in the same order, if not worse. In good sooth saith the third it seems very strange to me that a wise woman, and one of such parentage as you are, who as all men konws, is by blood far his better, can endure to be thus used by a base companion. Blame us not to speak, good Gossip, for I protest the wrong that he doth you doth likewise touch us, and all other good women that are in your case.  
This Child wife hearing all this, gins to weep, saying: Alas Gossip, I know not what to do or how to please him, he is so divers and wayward a man, and besides he thinks all too much that is spent. Gossip he is (said one) a bad and a naughty man, and so it is well seen by your usage. All my Gossips here can tell, that when I was married to my husband, every one said that he was so hasty and hard to please, that he would kill me with grief: and indeed I may say to you, I found him crabbed enough: for he began to take upon him mightily, and thought to have wrought wonders, yet I have used such means that I have tamed my young master, and have at this present brought him to that pass, that I dare swear he had rather lose one of his joints than wrangle with me: I will not deny but once or twice he beat me shrewdly, which I, God wots, being young and tender, took in grievous part, but what he got by it let my Gossip T. report, who is yet a woman living, and can tell the whole story: to whom my good man within a while after said, that I was past remedy. and that he might sooner kill me: than do any good by beating me, (and by these ten bones so he shall) but in the end I brought the matter so about, that I got the bridle into my own hands, so that I may now say I do what I lift: for be it right or wrong, if I say it he will not gain say it; for by this Gold on my finger, let him do what he can, I will be sure to have the last word; so that in very deed, if that women be made underlings by their husbands, the fault is their own: For there is not any man alive (be he never so churlish) but his wife may make him quiet and gentle enough, if she have any wit. And therefore your good man serves you but well enough, sigh you will take it so.  
Believe me Gossip (saith another) were I in your case, I would give him such welcome at his coming home, and ring such a peal of bad words in his ears, that he should have small joy to stay the hearing.  
Thus is the poor man handled behind his back, whiles they make no spare to help away with his good wine and sugar (which he hath prepared,) whom they for his kindness thus ingratefully requite: yea, and now and then having their brains well heated, they will not stick to taunt him to his face: accusing him of little love and great unkindness to his wife.  
Now it doth many times so chance, that he having been forth to provide such meats as she would have, he cometh home (perhaps at midnight) and before he sitteth down to rest himself, hath a very earnest desire to know how his wife doth, and perchance being loath to lie abroad, because of expense travels the later, that he may reach to his own house where (when he is once come) he asketh the Chambermaid, or else the Nurse, how his wife doth: they having their errand before given them by their Mistress, answers, she is very ill at ease, and that since his departure she tasted not one bit of meat: but that towards the evening she began to be a little better, all which be mere lies. But the poor man bearing these words, grieves not a little, though he be all to be moyld, weary and wet, having gone a long journey through a bad and filthy way upon some ill paced trotting jade, and may be is fasting too: yet will he neither eat nor drink, (nor so much as once sit down) till he have seen his Wife, Then the idle prattling Nurse, which is not to learn to exploit such a piece of service, gins to look very heavily, and to sigh inwardly as though her Mistress had been that day at that point of death; which he seeing, was the more earnest to visit his wife: whom at the entrance of the Chamber, he hears lie groaning to herself, and coming to the bed side, kindly sits down by her, saying, how now my sweet heart, how dost thou? Ah husband (quoth she) I am very ill, nor was I ever so sick in my life, as I have been this day. Alas good soul (saith he) I am the more sorry to hear it. I pray thee tell me where lies thy pain? Ah husband (quoth she) you know I have been weak a long time, and not able to eat any thing. But Wife (quoth he) why did you not cause the Nurse to boil you a Capon, and make a mess of good broth for you? So she did (said his wife) as well as she could, but it did not like me God wots, and by that means I have eaten nothing, since the broth which yourself made me: Oh me thought that was excellent good.  
Marry Wife (saith he) I will presently make you some more of the same, and you shall eat it for my sake. With all my heart good husband (saith she) and I shall think myself highly beholden unto you. Then trudgeth he into the Kitchen, there plays he the Cook, burning and brotling himself over the fire, having his eyes ready to be put out with smoke while he is busy in making the broth: what time he chides with his maids, calling them beasts and baggages, that knows not how to do any thing: not so much as make a little broth for a sick body, but he must be fain to do it himself. Then comes down Mistress Nurse as fine as a farthing fiddle, in her petticoat and girtle, having a white waistcoat, with a flaunting cambric Ruff about her neck; who like a Doctress in faculty, comes thus upon him. Good Lord sir, what pains you take, here is no body can please our Mistress but yourself: I will assure you (on my credit) that I do what I can, yet for my life, I cannot any way content her. Moreover here came in mistress Cot, and mistress Cen. who did both of them what they could to have your Wife eat something: Nevertheless, all they did could not make her taste one spoonful of any thing all this livelong day: I know not what she ails: I have kept many women in my time, both of worship, and credit, (simple though I stand here) but I never knew any so weak as she is: I, I (quoth he) you are a company of cunning Cooks, that cannot make a little broth as it should be. And by this time the broth being ready, he brings it strait to his wife, comforting her with many kind words, praying her to eat for his sake, or taste a spoonful or twain, which she doth, commending it to the Heavens, affirming also that the broth which the others made had no good taste in the world, and was nothing worth. The good man hereof being not a little proud, bids them make a good fire in his wife's chamber, charging them to tend her well. And having given this direction, he gets himself to supper with some cold meat set before him, such as the Gossips left, or his Nurse could spare, and having this short pittance he goes to head full of care.  
The next morning he gets him up betimes, and comes very kindly to know how his wife doth, who presently pops him in the mouth with a smooth lie: saying that all night she could take no rest till it grew towards the morning, and then she began to feel a little more ease, when God knows she never slept more sound in all her life. Well wife, (said the good man) you must remember that this night is our gossip's supper, and they will come hither with many other of our friends, therefore we must provide some good thing for them, especially because it is your upsitting and a fortnight at least since you were brought to bed: but good wife let us go as near to the World as we may, seeing that our great charge doth every day increase, and money was never so ill to come by.  
She hearing him say so, gins to pout, saying; would for my part I had died in travel, and my poor infant been strangled in the birth, so should you not be troubled with us at all, nor have cause to repine so much at our spending: I am sure there is never a woman in the world, that in my case hath worse keeping or is less chargeable, yet let me pinch and spare, and do what I can all is thought too much that I have: Trust me I care not a straw whether you provide me any thing or no, although the sorrow be mine, the shame will be yours, as yesterday for example: I am sure here came in above a dozen of our neighbours and friends of mere kindness to see me, and know how I did, who by their countenance and coming, did you greater credit than you deserve: But God knows what entertainment they had, having nothing in the house to set before them which made me so much ashamed, that I knew not what to say: I tell you what, before God I may boldly speak it, (for I have seen it) that when any one of them lies in, their very servants have better fare than I myself have had at your hands, which they seeing (betwixt themselves yesterday) when they where here, did most cunningly flout both you and me for their entertainment. I have not (as you know) lain in above fifteen days, & can yet scant stand on my legs and you think the time too long till I be moiling about the house (to catch my bane,) as I fear I have done already. Believe me wife (quoth he) you mistake me greatly, for no man in the world can be more kind to his wife, than I have done already. Kind to me (quoth she) by the mass that you have with a murrain: no doubt but I have had a sweet mess of cherishing at your hands, but I see your drift well enough, you gape every day for my death, and I would to God it were so for me: the month end is half expired, and I fear the rest will come before we be ready for it: my sister S. was here no longer ago then to day, and asked if I had ever a new Goun to be Churched in, but God wots I am far enough from it, neither do I desire it, though it be a thing which ought both by reason & custom to be observed.  
And because it is your pleasure, I will rise to morrow what chance so ever befall, for the worst is, I can but lose my life: full well may I gather by this, how you will use me hereafter, and what recount you would make of me, if I had nine or ten Children, but God forbidden it should ever come to pass, I desire rather to be rid of my life, and to shun the shame of the world, than long to live with such an unkind churl. Now verily wife (saith the good man) I must needs blame your impatience for growing so choleric without cause. Without cause quoth she?) do you think I have no just cause to complain? I will assure you there is never a woman of my degree, that would put up the intolerable injuries that I have done, & daily do by means of your hoggish conditions, Well wife, saith the good man, 
Fox ●at ●apes  lie as long as you list, and rise when you will, but I pray you tell me how this new Gown may be had which you so earnestly ask for: By my faith (quoth she) you say not well, for I ask nothing at your hands, neither would I have it though I might: I thank God I have gowns enough already, & sufficient to serve my turn, & you know I take no delight in garish attire, for I am passed a girl, but it makes me smile to see what a show of kindness you would fain make: Fie on thee dissembler, you can cog and flatter as well as any man in this Town, and full little think they that see you abroad, what a Devil you are at home: for what with your crooked qualities with toiling, moiling, carking and caring, and being beside broken with Child bearing, my countenance is quite changed, so that I look already as withered, 
〈…〉.  as the bark of an Elder bough: There is my cousin, T. T. who when I was a little girl, was at a woman's estate, and in the end married master H. with whom she leads a Lady's life looking so young and lusty, that I may seem to be her mother, I, I, such is the difference betwixt a kind and an uncourteous husband: and who knows not but he was a suitor to me & made many a jourdey to my father's house for my sake, and would so fain have had me, that while I was to marry, he would not match himself with any? but so much was I bewitched, that after I had once seen you, I would not have changed for the best Lord in the Land, and this I have in recompense of my love and loyalty: Go to wife (saith he) I pray you leave these lavish speeches, and let us all call to mind where we may best take up cloth for your gown: for you see, such is our weak estate, that if we should rashly lay out that little money which is in the house, we might possibly be unprovided for all other necessaries: therefore whatsoever should chance hereafter, it is best to keep something against a rainy day: And again, you know within these eight or nine days, I have five pound to pay to master P. which must be done, there is no shift, otherwise I am like to sustain triple damage. Tush (quoth she) what talk you to me of these matters? alas I ask you nothing, I would to God I were once rid of this trouble: I pray you let me take some rest, for my head aches (God help me) as it should go in pieces, I wis you feel not my pain, and you take little care for my grief: Therefore I pray you send my gossip's word that they may not come, for I feel myself very ill at ease. Not so (quoth he) I will never break custom, nor so much as gainsay their courteous offer, they shall come sure, and be entertained in the best manner I may. Well (quoth she) I would to God you would leave me, that I might take a little restand than do what you list: Upon these speeches the Nurse strait steps in, and rounds her master in the ear: I pray you Sir do not force her to many words, for it makes her head light, and doth great harm to a woman in her case, especially her brains being so light for want of sleep: and besides she is, God knows, a woman of a tender and choice complexion, and with that she draws the Curtains about the Bed: Thus is the poor man held in suspense, till the next day that the Gossips come, who will play their parts so kindly, and gall him to the quick with their quibs and taunts, that his courage will be wholly quailed, and be ready (if they should bid him, like the Prodigal Child, even to eat draff with the hogs,) rather than he would displease them. But to proceed, he in the mean while is double diligent, to provide all things against their coming, according to his ability, and by reason of his wives words, he buys more meat, and prepares a great deal better cheer than he thought to have done. At their coming, he is ready to welcome them with his cap in hand, and all the kindness that may be showed. Then doth he trudge bare headed up and down the house, with a cheerful countenance, like a good Ass fit to bear the burden: he brings the Gossips up to his wife, and coming first to her himself, he tells her of their coming. I wis (quoth she) I had rather they had kept at home, and so they would too, if they knew how little pleasure I took in their coming. Nay I pray you wife (saith he) give them good countenance seeing they become for good will: with this they enter, and after mutual greetings, with much gossip's ceremonies, down they sit and there spend the whole day in breaking their fasts, dining and in making an afternoons repast: besides their petty suppings at her beds-side, and at the cradle, where they discharge their parts so well in helping him away with his good wine and sugar, that the poor man coming oft to cheer them, doth well perceive it, and grieves inwardly thereat, howsoever, he covers his discontent with a merry countenance. But they not caring how the game goes, take their pennyworths of that cheer which is before them, never ask how it comes there, and so they merrily pass the time away, prattling, and talking of many good matters. Afterwards the poor man trots up and down anew to get his wife the foresaid gown, & all other things thereto suitable, whereby he sets himself sound in debt: sometimes he is troubled with the child's brawling, sometimes he is brawled at by the nurse: then his wife complains that she was never well since she was brought to bed, then must he cast his cares anew, devising by what means to discharge his debts, and lessen his expenses: then resolves he to diminish his own port, and augment his wife's bravery, he will go all the year in one suit, and make two pair of shwes serve him in a twelve month, keeping one pair for holydays, another for working days, and one hat in three or four years. Thus according to his own rash desire, he is up to the ears in Lob's pound, and for all the woe and wretchedness that he hath felt, he would not yet be out again, but doth then willingly consume himself in continual care, sorrow and trouble, till death doth set him free.   

CHAP. IU. The humour of a woman that hath a charge of children.  
THe next humour that is by nature incident to a woman, is when the husband hath been married nine or ten years, hath five or six childen, 
Being tired with scolding, as a hackney Jade with travel.  hath passed many evil days, unquiet nights, and troubles aforesaid, hath his lusty youthfulness spent so that it is now high time for him to repent: But such is his gross folly that be cannot, and such is his dulness through the continual vexations, which have tamed and wearied him, that he cares not whatsoever his wife saith or doth, but is hardened like an old Ass, which being used to the whip, will not once mend his pace, be he lashed never so much: The poor man seethe two or three of his daughters marriageable, which is soon known by their wanton tricks, their playing, dancing, and other youthful toys, but he keeps them back, having perhaps small come in, to keep, maintain and furnish them as they look for, with gowns, kirtles, linen, and other ornaments, as they should be for three causes. First, that they may be the sooner sued unto by lusty gallants: Secondly, because his denying hereof should nothing avail: for his wife which knows her daughter's humours by her own, when she was of the like years, will see that they shall want nothing. Thirdly they peradventure, bearing right women's minds, if their Father keeps them short, will find some other friends that shall offer it them. The poor man being thus perplexed on all sides by reason of the excessive charges which he must be at, will (as it is likely) be but honestly attired himself, not caring how he goes so he may but rub out, be it never so barely, and would be glad to scape so: But as the fish in the pond, which would also think himself well, though wanting former liverty, if he might be suffered to continue, is cut off before his time: So is likewise this poor man served, being once plunged in the perplexing pond or rather pound of wedlock and house keeping: for howsoever when he considers the aforesaid charges and troubles, he gins to have no joy of himself, and is no more moved than a tired jade, which forceth not for the spur: Yet for the furnishing of his wife and daughters, so that he may have peace at home, and enjoy an easy bondage, he must trudge up and down early and late about his business in that course of life which he professeth.  
Sometimes he journeys thirty or forty miles off, about his affairs: Another time twice so far to the Term or Assizes, concerning some old matter in law, which was begun by his grandfather, and not yet towards an end: he puts on a pair of boots of seven years old, which have been cobbled so oft that they are now a foot too short for him, so that the top of the boot reaches no further than the calf of his leg, he hath a pair of spurs of the old making whereof the one wants a rowel, and the other for want of leathers, is fastened to his foot with a point: He puts a laced coat on his back, which he hath had six or seven years, which he never wore but upon high days, whose fashion is grown clean out of request, by reason of new invented garments: whatsoever sports or pleasures he lights on (by the way on his journey) he takes no joy in them because his mind is altogether on his troubles at home: he fares hard by the way, as also his poor horse (if he have one) his man follows him in a turned suit with a sword by his side, which was found under a hedge at the siege of Bulloyne; he hath a coat on his back, which every man may know was never made for him, or he not present when it was cut out: for the wings on his shoulders come down half way his arm, & his skirts as much below his waist; To be short, the poor man goes every way as near as may be, for he remembers at what charges he is at home, and knows not what it will cost him in seeing his Counsellors, Attorneys, Pettyfoggers, which will do nothing without present pay: he dispatcheth his business speedily, and hies him home, with such haste to avoid greater charges, that he rests no where by the way. And hereby it chanceth that many times he comes home at such an hour, as is as near morning as to night, and finds nothing to eat, for his wife and servants are in bed, all which he takes patiently, being now well used to such entertainment: Surely for my part, I think that God sends such adversity and distress to those only whose good and mild nature he knows to be such, that they will take all things in good part.  
But to proceed, it is very likely that the poor man is very weary, his heart heavy, by reason of the care and thought which he hath of his business: and it may be (he looks to be welcome to his own house, and there to refresh himself) howsoever he forgets not his former usage. But it falls out otherwise, for his wife gins to chidee whose words carry such a sway with the servants, that whatsoever their master saith, they make small account of it: but if their mistress command any thing, it is presently done, and her humour followed in all things, else must they pack out of service; so that it boots not him to bid them do any thing, or rebuke them for not doing it: And his poor man that hath been with him dares not likewise open his mouth to call for any victuals to comfort himself, or for the horses, lest they should suspect him to be of his master's faction (who being wise and of a quiet mild nature) is loath to make any stir, or breed any disquietness in the house, and therefore takes all in good part, and sits down far from the fire, though he be very cold: But his wife and children stand round about it, but all their eyes are cast on her, who looks on her husband with an angry countenance, not caring to provide aught for his supper: but contrariwise taunts him with sharp and shrewd speeches, whereto for the most part, he answers not a word, but sometimes (perhaps being urged through hunger or wearinese, or unkindness of his wife) he doth thus utter his mind. Well mice you can look well enough to yourself, but as for me, I am both weary and hungry, having neither eaten nor drunk n all this day, and being beside wet to the very skin, yet you make no eeckoning toprovide any thing for my supper.  
Ah (quoth she) you do well to begin first, lest I should, which have most cause to speak: have you not done very well (think ye) to take your man with you, and leave me no body to white the cloth? Now before god, I have more loss in my linen, than you will get this twelve month: Moreover, you shut the Hen Koust door very well, did you not? When the Fox got in, and eat up four of my best brood Hens, as you (to your roast will soon find) by the mass, if you live long you will be the poorest of all your kin. Well wife (saith the good man) use no such words, I pray, God you be thanked I have enough, and more shall have when it pleaseth him: and I tell you, I have good men of my kin. But quoth she, I know not where they be, nor what they are worth. Well (saith he) they are of credit and ability too. But for all that (quoth she) they do you small good. As much good (saith he) as any of yours. As any of mine (saith she) and that she spoke with such a high note, that the house rung withal, saying. By cock's soul, were it not for my friends you would do but sorrily.  
Well good wife (saith he) let us leave this talk: Nay (saith she) if they heard what you said, they would answer you well enough. The good man holds his peace, fearing lest she should tell them, being of greater ability than he was, and besides, because he was loath that they should be offended with him. Then one of the three children falls a crying, and he perhaps which his father loved best, threupon the mother presently took a rod, turned up the child's tail, and whipped him well favouredly; and the more to despite & anger her husband than for aught else. The good man being therewith somewhat moved, wills her to leave beating the child, showing by his bended brows that he was not a little angry at her do. Now gyp with a murrain (qd. she) you are not troubled with them, they cost you nothing, but it is I that have all the pains with them night and day. Then comes in the Nurse with her verdict, and thus she gins, saying O Sir, you know not what a hand she hath with them & we also that tend them. Then comes in the chambermaid with her five eggs, In good faith Sir it is a shame for you, that at your coming home, when all the whole house should be glad thereof, that you should contrary wise put it thus out of quiet: saith he (Is it I that make this stir?)  
Then is the whole household against him, when he seeing himself thus baited on all sides, (and the match so unequal,) gets him to bed quietly without his supper, all wet and dirty; or if he do sup, he hath but thin fair: and being in bed where he should take his rest, be is so disquieted with the children, whom the nurse and his wife do on purpose set on crying, to anger him the more, that for his life he cannot sleep one wink.  
Thus is he vexed with continual troubles, wherewith he seemeth to be well pleased, and would not though he might be free from them but doth therein spend his miserable and unhappy life.   

CHAP. V The humour of a woman that marries her inferior by birth.  
A Woman inclined to another kind of humour, which is, when the husband hath been married, and hath passed so many troubles, that he is wearied therewith, his lusty youthful blood grown cold: is matched with a wife of better birth than himself, and perhaps younger, both which things are very dangerous, and no wise man should seek his own spoil, by wrapping himself in either of those bonds, because they are so repugnant, that it is both against reason and nature to accord them. Sometimes they have children, sometimes they have none; yet this notwithstanding, the wife can take no pains, yet must be maintained according to her degree, to the husbanda exceeding charges: for the furnishing whereof, the poor man is forced to take extreme toil and pains, and yet for all this thanks God for vouchsafing him so great a grace, as to be matched with her: If now and then they grow to hot words together (as oft it happens) then presently in upbrading and menacing sort, she tells him that her friends did not match her to him to be his drudge, and that she knows well enough of what lineage she is come, and will brag withal, that when she list to write to her friends and kinsmen, they will presently fetch her away. Thus doth she keep him in awe, and in a kind servitude, by telling him of them, who would perhaps have matched her better, and not with him, but for some privy escape that she hath had before, whereof the poor soul knows nothing; or if perhaps he hath heard some inkling thereof, yet because he is simple, the credit that he might give thereunto is quite dashed, by a contrary tale of others suborned by them, who perchance will not stick to swear that this is a slander raised by evil tongues, and forced maliciously against her, as the like is done against many other good women, whose good names are wronged, & brought in question by bad persons on their tippling bench because themselves cannot obtain their purpose of them: notwithstanding, if her husband be not able to maintain her according to her mind, then will she be sure to have a friend in store that shall offer it her, if her husband deny it, and in the end she remembers that such a Gentleman at such a feast proffered her a Diamond, or sent her by a messenger some twenty or thirty crowns, which she as then refused, but now purposeth to give him a kind glance to renew his affection, who conceiving some better hope, and meeting soon after with her Chambermaid, as she is going about some business, calls to her, saying: Sister I would fain speak with you. Sir quoth she say what you please. You know (quoth he) that I have long loved your Mistress without obtaining any favour: but tell me I pray you, did she never speak of me in your hearing? In faith sir (saith he) never but well: I dare swear she wishes you no harm. Before God sister, saith the Gentleman, if you will show me some kindness herein, and do my commendations to your mistress, assuring her of my love and loyalty, it should be worth a new gown unto you, mean while take this in earnest; with that he offers her a piece gold; she then making a low curtsy, saith Sir, I thank you for your good will, but will not take it; By my faith saith he, but you shall, and with that he forceth it on her; adding these words: I pray you let me hear from you to morrow morning. She being glad of such a booty hies her home, and tells her mistress how she met with a gentleman that was in a passing good vein, & to be short after some questions used by her mistress, it appears to be the very same man whom she would fain entrap. I tell thee, saith she to her maid, if he be as kind as he is proper, he were worthy to be any woman's love. Believe me mistress (saith the maid) his very countenance shows that he is kind, it seems that he was only made for love, and withal he is wealthy, and thereby able to maintain her beauty and her person in bravery whom he affects. By this light (saith the mistress) I can get nothing of my husband. The more unwise you (saith the maid) to be used so. Alas quoth she what shall I do? I have had him so long, that I cannot now set my heart on any other. Tush (quoth the maid) it a folly of any woman to set her heart so on any man, for you know they care not how they use us when they are once lords over us. Beside, your husband, though he would yet he cannot maintain and keep you according to your degree: but he of whom I speak will furnish and maintain you gallantly, what garments soever he will have: and what colour and fashion soever you like best you shall presently have it, so that there wants nothing else, save only a acquaint excuse to my Master, making him believe you had it by some other means. By my troth quoth her mistress, I know not what to say. Well Mistress (saith the maid) advise you well, I have promised to give him an answer to morrow morning. Alas (saith the other,) how shall we do? Tush mistress, answers the maid, let me alone: As I go to morrow to the market, I am sure he will watch to meet with me, that he may know what news: then I will tell him that you will not agree to his desire for fear of discredit, this will give him a little hope and so we shall fall into further talk, and I doubt not but to handle the matter well enough. According to promise next morning to market she hies, somewhat more early than she was wont, and by the way she meets with this lusty gallant, who had waited for her at least three hours: he hath no sooner spied her, but he presently makes towards her, and at her coming thus salutes her: Sister, good morrow, what news I pray, and how doth your fair Mistress? In faith Sir, (saith she) she is at home very pensive and out of patience; I think that never any woman had such a froward husband. Ah villain (saith he) the Devil take him. Amen (saith the maid) for both my mistress and all the servants are weary with tarrying with him, Out on him slave (saith he) but I pray you tell me what answer gave your Mistress touching my suit? In faith (quoth she) I spoke unto her, but she would not agree thereunto, for she is wonderfully afraid to purchase herself discredit, and is besides plagued with such a froward and suspicious husband, and although she were never so willing, yet could she not, being continually watched by him, his mother and brethren: I think on my conscience, unless that it were that she spoke to you the other day, the poor woman talked not with any man these four months; yet she speaks very often of you, and I am well assured that if she would bend her mind to love, she would choose you before all men in the World. He being ravished with these words, replies thus, Sweet sister, I pray you be my friend herein, and I will always rest at your command. In good faith (saith she) I have done more for you already, then ever I did for any man in my life. And think not (saith he) that I will be unmindful of your kindness, but what would you counsel me to do? In faith Sir (saith she) I think it best that you should speak with her yourself, and now you have an excellent opportunity, for my master hath refused to give her a gown, whereat she storms not a little, you shall do well therefore to be to morrow at the Church, and there salute her, telling her boldly your desire: you may also offer her what you think good, but I know she will take nothing: marry she will think the better of you, knowing thereby your frank and bountiful nature. Oh, (saith he) I would she would gladly take that which I would gladly bestow on her. Nay, answers the maid, I know she will not, for you never knew a more honester woman: but I'll tell ye how ye may do it afterwards: Look what you purpose to bestow upon her, you shall deliver unto me, I will do my best to persuade her to take it: but I cannot assure you that I shall prevail. Surely sister (saith he) this is very good counsel, herewithal they part, and she returns home, laughing to herself; which her mistress seeing, demands of her the cause thereof. Marry (saith the maid) this lusty gentleman is all on fire, to morrow he will be at Church; purposing there to speak with you; now must you demean yourself wisely, and make very strange of it, but stand not off too much, lest you dismay him clean: as you will not wholly grant, so must you feed him with some hope. She having her lesson thus taught by her maid gets her up betimes the next morning, and to the Church she goes, where this amorous Gallant hath waited for her coming ever since four a clock. She being set in her Pew, makes show as if she were devoutly at her prayers, when (God wots) her devotion is bend to the service of another Saint: it were worth the noting to see how like an image she sits: and yet for all her demureness, she applies all her five senses, and that full zealously in this new humour of religion. To be short, he steals unto her sneaking unto her from the belfry unto her Pew, and being come, greets her after the amorous order, and from greeting he falls to courting, whereto she doth in no wise yield consent, neither will she take aught that she offers, yet answers him after such a sort that he doth assure'ly gather that she loveth him thereby, and sticks only for fear of discredit: whereat he is not a little jocund, and having spent his time to so good a purpose, he takes his leave and she hasting home to her Counsellor, acquaints her what hath passed between them; who thereupon takes occasion to say thus, Mistress, I know well that now he longs to speak with me, but at our meeting I will tell him that you will yield to nothing for which I will fain myself sorry: And I will add withal, that my master is gone out of town, and will appoint him to come hither towards the evening, with promise that I will let him in, and convey him so secretly into your Chamber, that you shall know nothing thereof. At what time you must seem to be highly offended, and if you be wise, you will make him buy his pleasure with some cost, which will cause him to esteem the more of you; Tell him that you will cry out, and then do you call me. By handling him thus, I can assure you that you shall get more of him, than if you had yielded at the first. All this while I will have in my keeping that which he will give you, for he hath appointed to deliver it me to morrow, and I will make him believe, that you would by no means take it. But when the matter is brought to this pass, then will I make show to offer you his gift before him, telling you that he is willing you bestow it on you to buy you a gown cloth withal: Then must you chide, and seem to be angry with me for receiving it, charging me to deliver it back again to him, but be sure I will lay it up safe enough. Well devised wench (saith the Mistress) I am content it shall be so. This plot being thus laid, the crafty wench goes presently to find out this jolly Gallant, whose first word is, What news?  
Now in good faith Sir, (saith she) the matter is no further forwards, then if it were yet to begin: yet because I have meddled so far in it, I would be loath I should not bring it about, for I fear that she will complain of me to her husband and friends; but if I could persuade her by any means to receive your gifts, than out of question the matter were dispatched, and in good faith I'll try once more: I have one good help, and that is this: my master (as I told you before) will not give her a new gown, at which unkindness, she storms mightily.  
The hot Lover hearing this, gives her presently twenty Crowns for her good will, whereupon she speaks thus: In good faith sir, 
Better than two years' wages, and soon got.  I know not how it comes to pass, but sure I am, I never did so much for any man before, as I have done herein for you: See, seen Sir, what danger I have put myself in for your sake; for if my Master should have any inkling of it, I were utterly undone: yet for you I will hazard a little further: I know she loves you well, as good hap is my Master is not now in Town, if you therefore will be about the doors toward six of the clock at night, I will let you in; and so convey you secretly into my Mistress' Chamber, who doth sleep very sound; for you know she is but young: being there I could wish you go to bed to her and for the rest you need not (I trust) any tutor: I protest that I know no other means for the compassing of this matter, perhaps it will fadge: For it is a great matter when a lover and his mistress are both together naked in the dark, 
Just as J●rmans lip.  which doth help forward a woman's conceit to that which in the day time perhaps she would hardly grant. Oh my sweet friend (qd he) for this kindness my purse shall be at thy command. To be short, night comes, he is there according to promise, whom she strait conveys into her mistress' chamber, than he presently unclothes himself and steps softly into her bed, and being once in, he gins to embrace her, hereat she (that seems till than asleep) starts up on a sudden, and with a fearful voice asks who is there? it is I sweet Mistress, saith he, fear nothing. Ah (qd she) think you to prevail thus? No, no, and with that she makes as though she would rise, and calls her maid who answers not a word, but alas for pity like an undutiful servant leaves her at her greatest need. She therefore (good woman) seeing that she is forsaken, saith with a sigh. Ah me, I am betrayed: then begin they a stout battle, he urging his advantage, she faintly resisting, but alas, what can a naked woman do against a resolute lover? there is therefore no other remedy, but that at length (poor soul) being out of breath with striving, she must needs yield to the stronger; she would fain have cried out (God wots) had it not been for fear of discredit: for thereby her name might have been brought in question, therefore all things considered, she doth willingly, God knows, let him supply her husband's place, garnishing his Temples, for pure good will, with Actaeon's badge. Thus hath she got a new gown, which her good man refused to give her; to blear whose eyes, and keep him from suspicion, she gets her mother in her husband's sight to bring home the cloth and give it her, as though it were her cost & lest also he should suspect any thing, she makes her believe she bought it with the money she got by selling old commodities which her husband knew not of: But it may be (and oft it happens so) that the mother is privy to the whole matter, and a furtherer thereof. After this gown she must have another, and too or three gold embroidered girdles, and other such costly knacks which the husband seeing, will in the end suspect somewhat, and begin to doubt of his wife's honesty, or shall perhaps receive some advertisement thereof from some friend or kinsman: for no such matter can be long kept close, but in the end will by some means or other be made known and discovered: Then falls he into a frantic vein of jealousy, watching his Wives close packing; and for the better finding it out, he comes home on a sudden about midnight, thinking then to discover all, and yet perhaps may miss his purpose. Another time coming in at unawares he seethe something that he likes not, and then in a fury falls on railing, but be sure that she answers him home, not yielding an inch unto him; for besides the advantage of the fight; which is waged by her own trusty weapon (her tongue I mean) she knowing withal that she is of better birth; hits him in the taeth therewith and threatens him to tell her friends how badly he doth use her. To be short, the poor man shall never have good day with her, but either with thought of her incontinency, or if he speak to her, he is born down with scolding lies, and despised of his own servants: his state runs to ruin, his health decays, his body dries up, and wears away with grief, he grows desperate and careless. Thus is he plunged in Lob's pound, wearied in a world of discontents, wherein notwithstanding he takes delight, having no desire to change his state: but rather if he were out, and knew what would follow, yet would he never rest till he had gotten in again, there to spend and end (as now he must) his life in grief and misery.   

CHAP. VI The humour of a woman that strives to master her husband.  
THe next humour whereunto a woman is addicted, is, when the husband hath got a fair young wife, who is proper and fine in whom he takes great delight: yet perhaps she is bend all together to cross and thwart: the man being of a kind and mild nature loving her entirely, & maintains her as well as he can, notwithstanding her frowardness: it may be also that she hath care of his credit and honesty and doth abhor such lewdness as she of whom we speak before did use, yet hath she nevertheless an extreme desire of Sovereignty, (which is known a common fault amongst women) and to be her husband's commander, & a busy meddler in his matters: be he a judge, a Nobleman, or Gentleman, she will take upon her to give sentence, and answer suitors, and whatsoever she doth he must stand to it.  
This is (I say) a general imperfection of women be they never so honestly, never so kindly used, and have never so much wealth and ease, to strive for the breeches, and be in odd contrary humours, of purpose to keep her husband in continual thought and care how to please her.  
He gets him up betimes in the morning, leaving her in bed to take her ease, while he stirs about the house and dispatcheth his business, look to the servants that they loiter not, causeth dinner to be made ready, the cloth to be laid, and when all things are ready, he sends one to desire her to come down, who brings back answer that she is not disposed to dine. Nay (saith he) I will never sit down nor eat a bit till she be here: So receiving his second message by his maid, or perhaps by one of his children; replies thus: Go tell him again that I will not dine to day. He hearing this is not yet satisfied but sends likewise the third time, and in the end goes himself, and thus gins: How now, what ails you Wife, that you will eat no meat? hereto she answers not a word. The poor man marvells to see her in this melancholy dump, (although perhaps she hath played this pageant many times before) and useth all entreaty he may, to know of her the cause thereof: but in vain, for indeed there is no cause at all, but only a mere mockery: Sometimes she will persist so obstinately in this humour, that for all the persuasions and kindness that he can use, she will not come. Sometimes it may be she will, and then he must lead her by the hand like a Bride, and set her chair ready for her, mean while it is so long before he can get her down, that the meat is cold when it comes to the table. Being set, she will not eat one bit, and he seeing that (like a kind Ass) will fall likewise: whereat she smiles inwardly, having brought him so to her bow, first in crossing him, then in making him fast from dinner: wherein (to say the truth) she hath reason, for what needs a woman to seek his favour, who doth already love her, and show her all the kindness that he can. Sometimes the good man riding abroad about his business, meets with two or three of his friends, with whom perhaps he hath some deal, and hath been long acquainted with them: It may be also that he invites them home to his house, as one friend will do to another, and sends his man before to his wife to make all things ready in the best sort that she can for their entertainment: the poor servingman gallops in such haste, that both himself and his borse is all on a sweat, when he comes home he doth his errand to his Mistress, telling her withal that the guests which his master brings are men of good account. Now by my faith (saith she) I will not meddle in it, he thinks belike that I have nothing else to do, but drudge about to prepare banquets for his companions, he should have come himself with a vengeance and why did he not? Foorsooth (saith the servant) I know not, but thus he bade me tell you. Go too (saith she) you are a knave that meddles in more matters than you have thank for. The poor fellow hearing this holds his peace, she in a fume flings up into her chamber, and which is worse, sends out her servants, some one way. some another: as for his maids, they have their lesson taught them well enough, knowing by custom how to behave themselves to weary their Master: well he comes home with his afore. said friends, calls presently for some of his servants: but one of the maids makes answer of whom he demands whether all things be ready: In good faith Sir my Mistress is very sick, and here is no body else can do any thing: with that he being angry leads his friends into the Hall, or some other place according to his estate, where he finds neither fire made, nor  laid. judge then in what a taking he is, although it may be that his friends perceived by the sending of his man, that his commandments were not of such force as an act of Parliament. The good man being ashamed, calls and gapes first for one man, then for another, and yet for all this there comes none, except it be the scullion or some charwoman, that doth use his house, whom his wife hath left there of purpose, because she knew they could serve to do nothing. Being herewith not a little moved, up he goes into his wife's chamber, and thus he speaks unto her: God's precious woman, why have you not done as I willed ye? Why (saith he) you appoint so many things to be done, that I know not what to do. Before God (saith he) and ●ith that he scratches his head, you have done me a greater displeasure than you think: these are the dearest friends that I have, and now here is nothing to set before them. Why (quoth she) what would you have me to do? I wis if you cast your care well you shall find that we have no need to make banquets: I would to God you were wiser, but sigh you will needs be so lusty, even go throw with it yourself on God's name: for I'll not meddle with it. But what the Devil mean ye (saith he) to send all the servants abroad? Why (quoth she) what did I know that you will need them now? yet did she know it well enough, and had of purpose sent them forth on sleevelese errands, the more to anger and despite him: who seeing that he can prevail nothing, gives over talking to her, and gets him down in a bitter chafe: for it may be that his guests be of such account, and he so much beholding unto them that he had rather have spent an hundred crowns than it should so have fallen out. But she cares not a whit, being well assured, that howsoever she thwarts him, he will hold his hands, and in scolding she knows herself to be the better. To be short, the poor man being vexed with shame and anger, runs up and down the house, gets as many of his servants together as he can: If his provision be but slender at home, he sends presently abroad; in the mean while he calls for a clean towel, the best tablecloth, and wrought napkins. But the maid answers him, that he can have none. Then up to his wife goes he again, and tells her that her friends do entreat her to come down and bear them company, showing her what a shame it is and how discourteously they would take it if she come not: And finally, he useth all the fairest speeches that he can to have her come and to welcome and entertain them for his credit's sake. Nay in faith (quoth she) I will not come, they are too great states for my company, and no doubt they would scorn a poor woman as I am. It may be she will go, but in such sort, and with such a countenance, that it had been better for him she had not come at all, for his friends will somewhat perceive by her looks, and gesture, that howsoever they be welcome to the good man, she had rather have their room than their company. But if she refuse to come (as it is the more likely) then will he ask her for the best towel, tablecloth and napkins. Napkins (quoth she) as though those that be abroad already be not good enough for greater and better men than they are: when my brother or any of my kinsmen come, which are I wis their equals in every respect, they can be contented to be served with them: but were these your guests never so great, yet could I not now fulfil your request though my life should lie on it: for since morning I have lost my keys of the great chest where all the linen lies. I pray you bid the maid look for them, for in good truth I know not what I have done with them; 
〈…〉,  and no marvel, for I have so much to do, that I know not how to bestir myself, well I wots, I have spoilt myself with continual care and trouble.  
Now in good faith (quoth he) you have dressed me fairly, but it is no matter: Before God I'll break open the Chest: Now surely then (quoth she) you shall do a great act, I would fain see you do it, I would for my part you would break all the Chests in the house. The poor man hearing her in these terms, knows not well what to do, but takes that which he next lights on, and therefore shifts as well as he can; he causeth his guests to sit down at the table, and because the beer then abroach is on tilt, and therefore not very good, he bids one of the servants broach a new barrel and fill some fresh drink but then there is neither tap nor spigger to be found, for his wife of purpose had hidden them out of the way. Towards the end of the dinner he calls for cheese, and fruit, but there is none in the house, so that he is ●ain to send to his neighbours for the same, or else be utterly destitute: mean while his boy being at the table with the guests at last tells them how his Mistress feigns herself sick, because she is not pleased with their Masters coming. Well, when bed time comes, he can get no clean sheets nor pillowbeers, because for soothe the keeps are lost, so that they must be content to lie in those that be foul, and have been long lain in. The next morning they get them gone betimes seeing by the good wife's countenance that they are nothing welcome. By the way their lackeys tell them what the Gentleman's boy reported, whereat they laughed hearty, yet find themselves aggrieved, vowing never to be his guest any more. The husband also getting him up betimes in the morning goes presently to his wife, and thus gins: By jesus wife, I muse what you mean to use me thus, I know not how to live with you. Then she replies, saying: Now God for his mercy, and I so troublesome? Got wots I am every day (poor soul) troubled with keeping the hogs, your Geese, your chickens, I must carded, I must spin, and continually keep the house, look to the servants, and never fit still, but toiling up and down to shorten my days, and make me die before my time, and yet I cannot have one hours' rest or quietness with you, but you are always brawling, and do nothing yourself, but spend and waste your goods and mine with odd companions. What odd companions (saith he) as though you know not that these are such men, as can either much further or much hinder me: It is a sign that you deal very well that you must stand in distress of such persons. Hereupon she takes occasion to rail and scold all the day long: the man being wearied with her wawardness, and age (being hasted with grief and sorrow) doth unawares overtake him. Briefly, he is in every respect wretched: but such is his folly, that he reckons his pains pleasure, and would not though he might, be again at liberty, out of Lob's pound or if he would, it is now too late: for he must of force continue there, in care, thought, and misery, till death make an end of him and them together.   

CHAP. VII. The humour of a covetous minded Woman.  
THe next humour belonging to a woman is, when the Husband is matched to a modest civil woman, who is nothing given to that thwarting and crossing humour whereof I spoke before. But be she good or bad, this is a general rule, many wives hold and steadfastly believe, that their own Husbands are worst of all others. It oft happens that when they match together, they are both young, and entertain each other with mutual delights, so much as may be, for a year or two or longer, till the vigour of youth grow cold. But the woman droops not so soon as the man: the reason whereof is, because she takes no care, thought, nor grief, breaks not her sleep, and troubles not her head as he doth but doth wholly addict her thoughts to pleasure and solace. I deny not that when a woman is with child she bides many times great pains, and is often very ill at ease, and at the time of her deliverance, she is for the most part, not only in exceeding pain, but also in no less danger of death: But all this is nothing to the husband's troubles, on whose hands alone doth rest the whole charge and weight of maintaining the house, and dispatching all matters, which is oftentimes entangled so with controversies, and so thwarted with cross fortune, that the poor man is tormented with all vexations of mind.  
Being thus wearied, and as it were worn away with continual grief, troublous cogitations, toil and travel, he hath no mind on any other pleasure: whereas she on the other side is as lusty as ever she was: mean while his stock decays, and his state grows worse and worse: and as that diminisheth, so he must perforce shorten her allowance and maintenance, which is almost as great a Corrosive to her, as the former: You may be well assured, that this change in him makes her also change her countenance, from mirth and cheerfulness to lowering melancholy, seeking occasions of disagreements, and use them in such sort, that their former love and kindness was not so great, as are now their brawls, jars, and discords. It doth also oftentimes happen, that the Woman by this means wasis and consumes all, giving lewdly away her husband's goods, which he with great pains and cares hath gotten. The good man, he goes every way as near as he can, and wearily contains himself within his bounds, casting up what his yearly revenues are, or what his gains is by his profession, be it merchandise or other, and then what his expenses be: which he finding greater than his come in, gins to by't the lip and becomes very pensive: his wife and he being afterwards private together in their chamber, he speaks thereof unto her in this manner: In faith wife. I much marvel how it comes to pass that our goods go away thus, I know not how: I am sure I am as careful as man can be, I cannot find in my heart to bestow a new cloak on myself, and all to save money. By my troth Husband (saith she) I do as much marvel at it as you, I am sure for mine own part, that I go as near in house-keeping every day as I can.  
To be short, the poor man not doubting his wife, nor suspecting her ill carriage, after long care and thought concludes, that the cause thereof is his own ill fortune, which keeps him down, and crosseth all his actions with contrary success, but it may be that in process of time, some friend of his (being more clear fighted in the matter) perceiving all goes not will, doth privily inform him thereof, who being astonished at his report, gets him home with a bevy countenance, which the wife seeing, and knowing herself guilty, gins presently to doubt the worst, and perhaps ghesseth shrewdly at the author thereof; but howsoever: she will take such an order, that she will be sure to escape the brunt well enough.  
The good man will not presently make any words hereof unto her, but defer it a while, and try in the mean time whether he can (of himself) gather any further likelihood: for which purpose he will tell her, that he must needs ride some ten or twelve miles out of Town about some earnest business. Good faith husband (saith she) I had rather you would send your man, and stay at home yourself. Not so wife (saith he) but I will be at home again myself within these three or four days: Having told her this tale, he makes as though he took his journey, but doth privily lie in ambush in such a place, where he may know whatsoever is done in the house: But she smelling his drift, sends word to her sweetheart, that he do not come in any case, and all the time of his desembled absence, she carries herself so that it gives no likelihood of suspicion: which the silly man seeing, comes out of his ambush, enters his house, making as if then he were returned from his journey? And whereas before he lowered now shows a cheerful countenance, being verily persuaded that his friend's report is a mere lie, and that he thinks so much the rather, because she doth at his coming run to meet him, with such a show of love, and doth so embrace and kiss him that it seems impossible so kind a creature should play false: But long after (being in bed together) he thus speaks to her:  
Wife, I have heard reported certain words that like me not. Good faith husband (saith she) I know not what is the cause thereof: I have noted this great while that you have been very pensive, & was afraid that you had had some great loss, or that some of your friends had been killed, or taken by the Spaniard. No (saith he) that is not the matter, but a thing which grieves me more than any such matter can do. Now God for his mercy (quoth she) I pray you husband let me know what it is. Marry wife (saith he) a friend of mine told me that you kept company with R.R. the veriest Russian in all the Town, and a many other matters he told me of you. Here at she crossing herself in token of admiration (though smiling inwardly) replies thus: Dear Husband, if this be all, than I pray you give over your pensiveness: I would to God I were as free from all other sins, as I am from that, then laying one hand on her head: she thus proceeds: I will not swear any thing touching him, but I would the Devil had all this under my hand, if I ever touched any man's mouth saving yours or some of our friends and kinsmen, or such at least as you have commanded me. Ha', ha', is this the matter? In troth I am glad that you have told me: I had verily thought it had been some greater matter, but I know well enough whereupon these speeches grew, and I would that you did likewise know, what moved him to speak them, 
Oh brave dissembler.  I know you would not a little marvel, because he hath always professed such friendship towards you. In good faith I am nothing sorry that he hath awaked the sleeping dog. What mean you by that word (qd he?) Nay (quoth she) be not desirous to know it, you shall know it soon enough some other time. Birlady (saith he) I'll know it now. By my troth husband (saith she) I was oft wonderfully angry when you brought him in hither, yet I forbore to speak of it, because I saw you loved him so well. But speak now (saith he) and tell me what the matter is. Nay, nay (qd she) it skils not greatly. Go to wife (saith the good man) tell me, for I will know it. 
Almost as bad as Judas kisses.  Then takes she him about the neck, and sweetly kissing him, saith thus: Ah my dear Husband, what villains are these that would seem to abuse you, whom I honour and love above all men in the world, Well Wife (saith he) I pray thee tell me the man that so misuseth us. 
The devil take the liar.  In troth (quoth she) that vile dissembling Traitor, that flattering tell tale, that puts that bad report in your ears, whom you esteem so much: reposing such great confidence in him, he is the only man and none but he, that hath earnestly urged me any time this two years to commit folly with him. But God (I praise him) hath given me grace both to refuse him and his offers, although I were continually troubled and importuned by him: I wis, when you thought he came hither so often for your sake, 
Thus is he bored thorough the nose with a cushion.  it was for this cause for never a time that he came, but he was in hand with me to obtain his filthy desire, till in the end I threatened to tell you of it, but I was loath to do it, fearing to breed a quarrel between you, so long as I was sure to keep him from doing you herein any injury: Beside, I had still a good hope, that he would at length give over: I wis it was no fault of his that he sped not. Gods for my life (saith the good man) being in a great rage, what a treacherous villain is this? I would never have suspected any such matter in him, for I durst have put my life in his hands. By this light Husband (saith she) if ever he come more within the doors, or if ever I may know that you have any talk with him, I'll keep house no longer with you. Ah dear Husband, and with that she eclipse and culls him again about the neck, should I be so disloyal as to abuse you in this sort? so sweet, 
As kind as a Sea-crab, seizing on a dead carrion.  so amiable, & so kind a man, who lets me have my will in all things? God forbidden I should live so long to become a strumpet now. But for God's sake Husband, forbidden him your house with whom this knave hath slandered me withal, yet I would the Devil had me if ever he made such motion to me: nevertheless, by God's grace he shall not come henceforth in any place where I am and with that she gins to weep, and he (kind fool) doth appease and comfort her, promising and swearing that he will do as she will have him, save only that he will not forbid him his house, with whose company the other had charged her, and withal he vows, never to believe any more of these reports, nor so much as to hearken to any such tales again, notwithstanding he still feels a scruple of suspicion in his conscience: Within a while he gins to fall at defiance with his honest friend, who informed him of his Wife's wantonness, and he seems to be so deeply besotted with her love, that you would say he were transformed without enchantment, into Actaeon's shape: His charge of Household still increaseth, he hath many Children, and is perplexed on every side; but his Wife follows her pleasure far more than before, for though it be never so openly known, yet will no man tell him thereof, because they know that he will not believe them, and (which is more ridiculous) he that abuseth him most, shall be most welcome unto him of any. To be short, age will overtake him, and perhaps poverty, from the which he will never be able to raise himself. Lo here the great good and pleasure that he hath gotten by entering into Lob's pound, every man mocks him; some say it is pity because he is an honest man: others say, it is not a matter to be sorrowed for, sigh it is the common rule of such. They of the better sort will scorn his company. Thus lives he in pain, grief, and disgrace. which he takes for great pleasure, and therein will continue till death cut him off.   

CHAP, VIII. The humour of a woman that still desires to be gadding abroad.  
THe next humour of a woman is, when the husband hath been in Lob's pound some five or six years, part whereof he hath spent in such pleasure as wedlock doth at the first afford, but now the date of these delights is out, he hath perhaps some three or four children: but his wife is now big again, end a great deal worse of this child than she was of any other: whereat the poor man grieves not a little, who takes great pains to get her that which she longs for: Well, the time of her lying down draws near, and she is wonderfully out of temper: so that it is greatly feared that she will hardly escape. Then falls he on his knees, and prays devoutly for his Wife, who soon after is brought to bed, wherefore he is not a little jocund, making sure account that God hath heard his prayers. She gossip's, kinswomen and neighbours, come in troops to visit and rejoice for her safe delivery. She for her part wants no good cherishing, whereby she recovers her strength, and is as fresh and lusty as ever she was.  
After her Churching, she is invited by some of her neighbours. who also invites five or six others of her neighbours and friends, who is received and feasted with all kindness; which Banquet doth perhaps cost her Husband more than would have kept the house a whole fortnight: Amongst other she propounds a question, & makes a match to go all together to a certain Fair, which will be within ten days at such a place, to the which place they shall have a most brave and pleasant journey, by reason of the fair weather, for they will always conclude such an agreement in some of the best seasons of the year, and she takes upon her to make this motion chief in regard of her Gossip, which was lately brought a bed, that she may after her long pain and travel somewhat recreate and refresh herself. But she answered her with thanks for her good will, saying, she knows not how to get leave of her Husband. What (saith the other) that is the least matter of a thousand. Tush Gossip (saith another) stand not upon that, we will all go and be merry, and we will have with us my Gossip G. T. my Cousin H. S. though perhaps he be nothing kind to her: But this is their ordinary phrase, and they undertake this journey, because they cannot so well obtain their purposes at home, being too near their Husband's noses. After this agreement, home she comes with a heavy countenance: The good man asketh what she aileth. Marry (quoth she) the Child is very ill at ease, (though he were never in better health since he was born) his flesh burns as though it were fire, and as the Nurse tells me, he hath refused the dug these two days, although she durst not say so much till now. He hearing this and thinking it true, is not a little sorry, goes presently to see his Child, and weeps for pity.  
Well, night comes, to bed they go, and then she fetching a sigh, gins thus: Husband, I see you have forgotten me. How mean you that, saith he? Marry (quoth she) do you not remember that when I was in child bed you said, that if it pleased God that I escaped, I should go to such a Fair with my Gossips and neighbours to make merry, and cheer up myself, but now I hear you not talk of it. In troth wife (saith he) my head is troubled with so many matters, and such a deal of business, that I have no leisure to think on any thing else: but there is no time past yet, the Fair will not be this fortnight. By my troth (quoth she) I shall not be well unless I go. Well wife (saith he) content yourself: for if I can by any means get so much money ye shall go. You know it is not little that we shall spend there: yea more I wis then will be my ease to lay out. Good Christ (quoth she) is it now come to that? you promised me absolutely, without either ifs or auns: before God I will go, whether you will or no: for there goes my Mother, my Gossip T. my Cousin B and my Cousin R. and his wife. If you will not let me go with them, I know not with whom you will let me go. He hearing her thus wilful, thinks it best for his own quietness, to let her go, though he strain his purse somewhat the more. The time comes, he hires horses, buys her a new riding gown, and doth furnish her according to her mind: peradventure there goes in their company a lusty Gallant, that will frolic it by the way on her Husband's cost, for his purse must pay for all. It may be he will go himself, because he hath never a man, or else cannot spare him from his work. But than is the poor man notably perplexed, for she will on purpose trouble him for every trifle more than she would do to another: because it doth her good to make a drudge of him; and so much the rather, that he may not afterwards have any desire to go abroad with her again.  
Sometime her stirrup is too long, sometimes too short: and he must still alight to make it fit: sometimes she will wear her cloak, sometimes not, and then he must carry it. Then finds she fault with her horses trotting, which makes her sick, and then she will alight and walk on foot, leaving him to lead the horses. Within a while after they come to a water, then must he be troubled to help her up again. Sometimes she can eat nothing that is in the Inn, then must he (being weary all day with riding) trudge up and down all the Town, to find something that will fit her stomach: All which notwithstanding, she will not be quiet: and not she only, but her Gossips also will be bobbing and quipping him, saying that he is not worthy to be a woman's man. But he is so enured to these janglings that he cares not for all their frivolous words.  
Well at length to the Fair they come, and then must he play the Squire in going before her, making so much room for them as he can, when there is any throng or press of people, being very chary of his wife, lest she should be hurt or annoyed by thrusting. There mules he like a Horse, and sweats like a Bull, yet cannot all this please her. Some Dames of the company, which are more flush in crowns than her good man, bestows money on Gold Rings, Hats, silk Girdles, jewels, or some such toys; yea, costly toys, which she no sooner sees, but presently she is on fire; until she have the like. Then must he herein content her, (if he love his own ease) and have he money or not, some shift must be made to satisfy her humour. Well now imagine them going homewards, and think his pain and trouble no less, than it was coming forth: her Horse perhaps doth flounder much, or trots too hard, which is peradventure by reason of a nail in his foot or some other mischance. Then must he perforce buy, or hire another Horse; and if he have not money enough to do so, then must he let her ride on his, and he troth by her side like a Lackey. By the way she will ask for twenty things, for milk because she cannot away with their drink; for pears, plumbs, and cherries: When they come near a Town he must run before to choose out the best Inn: ever and anon as she rides, she will of purpose let fall her wand, her mask and gloves, or something else, for him to take up, because she will not have him idle: When they are come home, she will for a fortnight together, do nothing else but gad up and down amongst her Gossips, to tell them how many gay and strange things she hath seen: all that hath passed by the way, in going and coming, but especially of her good man, whom she will be sure to blame, saying, that he did her no pleasure in the world, and that she poor soul, being sick and weary, could not get him to help her, or to provide any thing for her that she liked: And finally, that he hath had no more care of her, than if she had been a mere stranger.  
But he (poor sot) finding at his return all things out of order, is not a little troubled to set them in due frame again, and toils exceedingly at his labour, that he may recover his charges which he hath been at in his journey. But she, what for gossipping, for pride, and idleness, will not set her hand to any thing: And yet if ought go well: she will say that it was through her heedfulness and good housewifery. If otherwise, then will she scold & lay the fault thereof on him, although it be her own do. To be short, having thus gotten a vein of gadding, she will never leave it, and hereby the poor man will be utterly spoiled, for both his substance shall be wasted, his limbs through labour filled with aches, his feet with the gout, & age comes on him before his time: yet as though this were not evil enough, she will be continually brawling, scolding, & complaining, how she is broken through childbearing. Thus is the  man up to the ears in Lob's pound, being on each fide beset with care and trouble which he takes for pleasure, and therein languisheth whiles he lives.   

CHAP. IX. The humour of a cursed Quean, married to a froward Husband.  
THe next humour that is incident to a woman, is when the husband having entered very young into Lob's pound, and there fettered himself by his too much folly, for a vain hope of ticklish delights, which lastet but for a year or two, hath matched himself with a very froward and perverse woman (of which sort there are too many) whose whole desire is to be Mistress, and to wear the breeches or at least to bear as great a sway as himself. But he being crafty, and withal crabbed, will in no wise suffer this usurped sovereignty but with sundry matters withstands it. And there hath been great stir and arguing about this matter between themselves, and now and then some battles: but do she what she can, either with her tongue or hands, notwithstanding their long controversy, which hath perhaps lasted at the least these twenty years: he is still victorious and holds his right: but you must think that his striving for it all this while, hath been no small trouble and vexation unto him, beside all other aforesaid evils. All which, or part thereof, he hath likewise endured. Well, to be short, he hath perchance three or four children all married, and by reason of the great pains and travel that he hath taken in bringing them up, providing them portions, maintaining his wife, increasing his stock, or at least keeping it from being diminished, and living with credit amongst his neighbours: At last it may be he hath gotten the gout, or some other dangerous disease, and withal is grown old, and thereby feeble: so that being set, he can hardly rise, through an ache that he hath got in his arms or legs: Then is their long war come to an end, and the case (as Ployden saith) clean altered: For his wife being younger than he, and as frolic as ever she was, will now besure to have her own will in despite of his heart: Hereby the poor man which hath maintained the combat so long, is now utterly put down: his own children which before he kept in awe well enough, will now take heart to themselves, and if he reprove them for their lewdness and disobedience, she will maintain them against him to his teeeh, which must needs be a great grief unto him.  
But besides all this, he is in doubt of his servants; for they likewise neglect their former duty and lean all together to their Mistress: so that he poor man, which now by reason of his sickness, and feebleness of body, hath more need of attendance than ever he had, shall have but very little or none at all: For though he be as wise and as careful as ever he was, yet sigh he cannot bestir himself to follow them as he was wont, they contemn and make no more reckoning of him, than if he were a mere fool.  
Then peradventure his eldest son, thinking that his father lives too long, will take upon him to guide the house, and dispose all things at his pleasure, as if his father were become an innocent, and could no longer look to things as he was wont: judge you whether the good man seeing himself thus abused by his wife, children and servants, be grieved or not. If he purpose to make his Will, they will seek all means to keep him from doing it, because they hear an inkling, that he will bestow somewhat on the Parish, or will not bequeath his wife so much as she would have.  
To be short, that they may make an end of him the sooner, they will many times leave him in his Chamber half a day and more without meat, fire, or aught else, not one of them coming to see what he wants, or to do him any service: his wife is weary of him by reason of his spitting, coughing, and groaning.  
All the love and kindness which he had in former times showed unto her, is quite forgotten; but this strife for superiority, and his crabbedness towards her (when she had justly moved him) this she can still as well remember, as when it was first done: Neither will she spare to prate thereof to her neighbours: telling them that he hath been a bad man. and that she hath led such a life with him, that if she had not been a woman of great patience, she should never have endured to keep house with so crabbed a churl.  
She will likewise boldly reproach, and twit him in the teeth with those former matters, for it doth yet shrewdly stick in her stomach, that she could not till now be Mistress. But he that was wont to charm her tongue, and keep her under, who seeing him now in his distress and weakness, takes advantage, and continues his bad usage: Seeing all his Children, which should fear and reverence him, take part with their Mother, being taught and set on by her: seeing this (I say) and being no less angry than grieved, he calls some of them in a rage, and when they are come before him, thus gins he to his wife.  
Wife, you are she, whom by the laws of God and man, I should love and esteem more than any thing else in the world and you on the other side should bear the like affection to me: but whether you do so or not, I refer it to your own conscience: I tell you I am not well pleased with your using me thus: I think you take me still for the Master of the house as before you have done, but whether you think so or not, be sure I will be Master while I live, yet you I thank you, do use me and account of me in very slight manner: I have always loved you well, never suffered you to lack that which was meet: I have in like sort loved, and also maintained your Children and mine, according to my degree, add now both you and they do very unkindly requite me.  
Why (saith she) What would you have us to do? We do the best we can, but you cannot tell yourself what you would have. The better we use you, and the more we tend you, the worse you are, but you were never other, always brawling, and never quiet, nevee pleased full nor fasting: I think never woman was so long troubled with a croaked Pestle as I have been.  
Ah Dame (saith he) leave these words I pray you: then turning him to his eldest son, he said: Son, I have marvelled at your behaviour of late towards me, and tell you I am not well pleased therewith: You are my eldest, and shall be mine heir, if you behave yourself as a Child ought to do: But you begin already to take state upon you, and to dispose of my goods at your pleasure: I would not wish you to be so forward, but rather while I live, to serve and obey me as it becomes you to do: I have been no bad father unto you, I have nothing impaired or diminished, but increased that which was left me by my Father, which if you do your duty to me (as I did mine to him) I will leave to you after my decease as he left to me: but if you continue in your stubbornness and disobedience, before God (I swear) I will not bestow one penny or cross upon thee.  
Here his wife gins again to thwart him: Why, what would you have him do? it is impossible for any one to please you; he shall have enough to do that shall always tend you: I wis it is high time that you and I were both in Heaven, you know not yourself what you would have, I marvel what you ail. Well, well (saith he) I pray you be quiet, do not maintain him thus against me, but it is always your order.  
After this, the Mother and Son departing, consult together, and conclude, that he is become a child again, and because he hath threatened to disinherit them, they resolve that no man shall be suffered to come and speak with him: His son takes upon him more than before, being born out by his Mother; who together with him, makes every one believe that the poor man is become childish, and that he hath lost both his sense and memory.  
If any of his honest friends and former acquaintance, which were wont to resort unto him, come now to ask for him, his Wife will thus answer them: Alas he is not to be spoken with, and when he demands the cause thereof, doubting he is dangerously sick: Ah good neighbour (saith she) he is become an Innocent, even a Child again, so that I poor soul must guide all the house, and take the whole charge of all things upon me, having none to help me: but God be praised for all.  
In faith (saith the other) I am very sorry to hear this, and do much marvel at it, for it is not long since I saw him, & spoke with him, and then he was in as good memory, and spoke with as good sense & reason as ever he did before. In truth (saith she) he is now as I tell ye.  
Thus doth she wrong and slander the poor man, which hath always lived in good credit, and kept his household in very good order: but you may be well assured, that he seeing himself in his age thus despised and injured, and being not able to remedy himself, nor stir without help from the place where he is, thereby to acquaint his friends therewith, which might in his behalf redress it, is not a little grieved, vexed, and tormented in his mind, with sorrow and anger: So that it is a great marvel he falls not into despair: For it is enough to make a Saint become impatient to be used thus by those which should obey serve and honour him. And in my opinion this is one of the greatest corrosives that any man can feel: such is the issue of this great haste and extreme desire to be in Lob's pound, where he must now remain perforce, till death do end (at once) both his life and languishing.   

CHAP. X. The humour of a Woman given to all kind of pleasures.  
ANother humour incident to a woman by nature, is, when the husband (thinking that wedlock was of all estates the happiest, and altogether replenished with delight and pleasure) because he saw some of his friends, who for a while after they were married, were very cheerful & jocund, never ceaseth toiling and turmoiling himself till he hath gotten into Lob's pound, wherein he is presently caught fast like a bird in a net: for this comparison, if we do examine the particulars thereof, doth very fitly resemble his estate. The silly birds which fly from tree to tree and from field to field to seek meat, when they see a great deal of Corn spilt on the ground, think themselves well paid, and without any fear come hither to feed thereon, picking up the grains of corn, but alas they are deceived, for on a sudden the net is drawn and they are all fast tied by the legs, and thence carried in a sack or panier one upon another to the fowler's house, then cooped up in a cage. Oh how happy would they think themselves, if they were again at their former liberty to fly whither they list, but they wish too late: yet were this all the evil that they should endure, it were well, but (which is worse) they shall soon after have their necks wrung off, & their little bodies spitted to be made meat for men to eat.  
But they are therein far more simple than the Birds, for they being fast in Lob's pound, and so besotted with their own sorrows, that they have no power to free themselves: So likewise they have no will to do it. But to proceed; the wife not loving her husband, for some defect which is in him, that she may have some colour for that she doth, makes her mother and other friends which blame her for it, believe, that her husband is bewitched; and by reason of some Sorcery, made for the most part impotent; hereupon she complains of her ill fortune, resembling it to those, which having the Cup at their noses cannot drink: mean while she hath a sweet heart in a corner, who is not bewitched, who useth her company so long, and with so little heed, that in the end her husband perceives it, and falling into the vain of jealousy, beats her well favouredly, and keeps a foul stir both with blows and words, so that she not liking his usage, gives him the slip, but then is he clean out of patience, and so husbands in this taking are so mad, that they never lin seeking them, and would give half they are worth to find her again: who having thus played the pageant, and seeing her husband's humour, compacts with her mother, whose good will she will be sure to get by one means or other (whereas at the first she will perhaps think hardly of her departure from her husband) she doth I say, so handle the matter with her that she will make the good man believe her daughter hath been all this while at home with her, and that she came to shun his bad usage, who (had she tarried with him till then) had been lamed for ever.  
Before God (quoth she) I had rather you should restore her again to me, than beat her thus without cause, for I know that you suspect her wrongfully, and that she hath never offended you: I wis I have straight examined her about it, but if she would have been naught, you did enough to provoke her: By God's passion, I think few women could have born it. Well (it may be) that upon these or the like terms he takes her again: it may be also that they are both desirous to be divorced, each accusing other, and seeking to wind themselves again out of Lob's pound, but in vain. For either the causes that they allege are not thought sufficient by the judge, how hard soever they plead, but must of force continue still together, are laughed to scorn of all that hear the cause: for if they be separated, yet will not all this set them free, but rather plunge them in deeper than before, but neither of them can marry whiles the other lives, and their chastity so brittle (especially hers) that hold it cannot, nor long endure.  
She who was wont to be so frolic, must needs continue so still. Nay peradventure, being now without controlment, follows her evil and lewd life more freely than before: and whereas she was but erst a private Queen, she is now common in the way of Good fellowship, or else some lusty Gallant takes her into his house and shelters her by his nose, which must needs be unto him an exceeding inward grief, and an open disgrace and shame in the eyes of the world; and which is worse, he knows not how in the world to remedy it, but must perforce endure both, while this miserable life doth last.   

CHAP. XI. The humour of a woman to get her Daughter a Husband, having made a little wanton escape.  
THe next humour that a woman is addicted unto, is, when a lusty young Gallant riding at pleasure up and down the Country, but especially to those places of sports and pleasure where the finest Dames and dainty Girls meet, who can finely mince their Measures, having their tongues trained up to all kind of amorous chat; in which delightful exercises, this Youngster both by reason of his youth, his lose bringing up, and natural inclination, takes a great felicity in such vain company: and so much the rather, because he finds himself always welcomed, and kindly entertained to such places, and the reason is the comeliness of his person, his amiable countenance, and quaint behaviour: for whosoever hath these good helps, shall want no favour at women's hands. It may be also, that his parents are still living: and he their only joy, they having herhaps no Child but him, so that all their most delight is in maintaining him bravely. It may be also, that he is newly come to his Lands, and loves to see fashions, though it cost his purse never so largely. If any Gentlewoman offer any kindness, he is ready to require it: and at length through long passing to many places, he lights on one that doth exceedingly please his eye, and inflame his heart: she is perhaps Daughter to some Gentleman, some Citizen, or some worthy Farmer. She hath a clear complexion, a fine proportion, a wanton eye, a dainty tongue, and a sharp wit; by reason of all which good gifts, she is grown very famous. She hath been wooed, sued, and courted by the bravest Gallants in the Country; of whom perhaps some one being more forward and courageous than the rest, hath offered her such kindness. as sticks by the ribs a good while after, and would needs enforce this courtesy with such importunity, that she had not the power to resist it: for a woman that hath her fine wits, if she be withal of a cheerful sanguine complexion, cannot be so unkind, or so hardhearted as to deny, or repulse the petition of an amorous Friend, if he do any thing earnestly prosecute the same. And (to be plain) be she of what complexion soever, she will be nothing slack to grant such a suit.  
But to return to our purpose, by reason of her tender compassion, and kind acceptance of his proffered service, it so falls out she hath played false, then is there no other shift but to keep it both secret and close, and to take such order as they best can, for smoothing up of the matter; he that hath done the deed, being a poor young man, though proper of body, and perhaps can dance very well, by which good quality he won her favour, and within a while after cropped the flower of her maidenhead: he (I say) after a week or two, and no further matter (lest this privy, escape should be openly known) is warned from coming any more to the house, or frequenting her company whatsoever.  
But now you must note, that she being but a simple girl, between fourteen and fifteen years of age, nothing expert, but rather a novice in such matters, and having been but lately deceived, knows not herself how it is with her: But her Mother which by long experience hath gotten great judgement, doth by her colour, her complaining of pain at her heart and stomach: with other like tokens, perceive it well enough, and having (as before I said) cashiered the Author of the action: then takes she her daughter aside, and schools her so that in the end she confesseth that he hath been dallying with her, but she knows not whether to any purpose or not. Yes (saith her Mother) it is to such purpose, as by these signs I know very well, that you have thereby both shamed yourself, and all our friends, and spoiled your marriage quite and clean.  
To be short, having somewhat chid her after the common order, for having no more respect nor care of her honesty, (yet not chiding very extremely, because she knows the frailty of youth by her own former experience) she concludes thus comfortably: Sith it is done, and cannot be altogether remedied, she will seek both to hid and salve the matter as well as she can, charging her Daughter ta set a good countenance on it, lest it should be suspected, and to follow her counsel and commandment in all things: Whereupon the poor Wench willingly consenteth, than the Mother proceeds thus:  
You know Master T. A. that cometh hither so often, he is you see a proper Gentleman, and a rich Heir, to morrow he hath appointed to be here again: Look that you give him good entertainment. and show him good countenance. When you see me and the rest of our Guests talking and discoursing together, ever and anon cast your eyes on him, in the kindest and lovingest manner that you can. If he seem desirous to speak with you, be not coy, but hear him willingly, answer him courteously. If he entreat love of you, tell him that you know not what it means, and that you have no desire at all to know it; yet thank him for his good will; for that Woman is too uncourteous and uncivil, which will not vouchsafe the hearing or gently answering to those that love her and wish her well.  
If he offer you money take none in any case; if a ring, or a girdle, or any such thing, at the first refuse it, yet kindly and with great thanks: but if he urge it on you twice or thrice, take it, telling him sigh that he will needs bestow it on you you will wear it for his sake. Lastly, when he takes his leave, ask him when he will come again: These instruments being thus given, and the plot laid for the fetching in of this kind fool into Lob's pound:  
The next day he cometh, and is on all hands more kindly welcome and entertained: after dinner, having had great cheer, the Mother falls in talk with the other guests, and this frolic Novice gets him as near to her Daughter as he can, and while the other are hard in chat he takes her by the hand, and thus gins to court her:  
Gentlewoman, I would to God you knew my thoughts. Your thoughts Sir (saith she) how should I know them, except you tell them me? It may be you think something that you are loath to tell. Not so (saith he) yet I would you knew it without telling. But that (saith she smiling) is impossible. Then (quoth he) if I might do it without offence, I would adventure to tell you them. Sir (saith she) you may freely speak your pleasure: for I do so much assure me of your honesty, that I know you will speak nothing that may procure offence.  
Then thus (saith he) I acknowledge without feigning, that I am far unworthy of so great a favour, as to be accepted for your Servant, friend, and lover, which are so fair, so gentle, and every way so gracious, that I may truly say, you are replenished with all the good gifts that nature can plant in any mortal creature: But if you would vouchsafe me this undeserved grace, my good will, diligence, and continual forwardness to serve and please you shall never fail: but I would therein equal the most loyal lover that ever lived, I would esteem you more than any thing else, and tender more your good name and credit than mine own.  
Good Sir (quoth she) I hearty thank you for your kind offer, but I pray you speak no more of such matters, for I neither know what love is, nor yet care for knowing it: This is not the lesson that my Mother teacheth me now adays. Why (saith he) if it please you, she shall know nothing of it; yet the other day I heard her talk of preferring you in marriage to one Master G. R. How say you to that (quoth she?) Marry thus (answers the Gentleman) if you would vouchsafe to entertain me for your Servant, I would never marry but only rely upon your favour.  
But that (said she) should be no profit to either of us both, & beside it would be to my reproach, which I had not thought you would seek. Nay (quoth he) I had rather die then seek your discredit. Well Sir (saith she) speak no more hereof, for if my Mother should perceive it, I were utterly undone. And it may be her Mother makes her a sign to give over, fearing she doth not play her part well.  
At the breaking up of their amorous Parley, he conveys into her hand a gold ring, or some such toy, desiring her to take it and keep it for his sake: which at the first (according to her Mother's precepts) she doth refuse: but upon his more earnest urging of it, she is content to take it in the way of honesty, and not on any promise or condition of any farther matter: when it was brought to this pass, the mother makes metion of a journey to be made the next morning, some ten or twelve miles off, to visit, or feast with some friend, or to some Fair, or whatsoever other occasion presents itself. To this motion they all agree, and afterwards sit down to supper, where he is placed next the Daughter, who carries herself so toward him with her piercing glances, that the young Heir is set on fire therewith: Well, morning comes: they mount on Horseback, and by the opinion of them all: there is never a Horse in the company that can carry double but his: So the gull is appointed to have the Maiden ride behind him, wherefore he is not a little proud: and when he feels her hold fast by the middle (which she doth to stay herself the better) he is even ravished with joy.  
After their returning home, which perhaps will be the same night the Mother taking the Daughter aside, questions with her, touching all that had passed between the amorous Gallant, and her: which when her daughter had rehearsed, then proceeds the wily Grandam thus: If he court thee any more (as I know he will) then make him answer that thou hast heard thy father and me talk of marching thee with Master G. R. but that thou hast no desire as yet to be married: if he than offers to make thee his Wife, and use any comparisons of his worth and wealth as though he were every way as good as he, thank him for his good will and kindness, and tell him that you will speak with me about it, and that for thy own part thou couldst find in thy heart to have him to thy Husband rather than any one else: upon this lesson the daughter sleeps, revolving it all night in her mind.  
The next morning she walks into the Garden and this lusty younker follows; when having given her time of the day, he falls to his former suit. She wills him to give over such talk, or she will leave his company: Is this the love you bear me, (quoth she) to seek my dishonesty? you know well enough that my Father and Mother are minded to bestow me otherwise.  
Ah my sweet Mistress (saith he) I would they did so far favour me herein, as they do him: I dare boldly say and swear it, and without vain glory utter it, that I am every way his equal. Oh Sir, (answers she) I would he were like you. Ah sweet Mistress (saith he) you deign to think better of me than I deserve, but if you would further vouchsafe me that other favour, I should esteem myself most happy. In troth Sir (saith she) it is a thing that I may not do of myself, without the counsel and consent of my Parents, to whom I would gladly move it, if I thought they would not be offended: But it would be so much the better, if you broke the matter unto them; and be sure, if they refer the matter to me, you shall speed as soon as any. He being ravished with these words, and yielding her infinite thanks, trots presently to the Mother, to get her good will.  
To be short (with some little ado) the matter is brought about, even in such sort as he would desire: they are strait way contracted, and immediately wedded, both because that her friends fear that the least delay will prevent all, and because he is so hot on the spur, that he thinks every hour a year till it be done. Well, the wedding night comes, wherein she behaves herself so (by her Mother's counsel) that he dares swear on the Bible that he had her Maidenhead.  
Within a while after, it comes to his Friends ears, without whose knowledge he hath married himself, who are exceeding sorry, knowing she was no meet match for him, and it may be they have heard withal of his Wife's humour: but now there is no remedy that knot is knit, and cannot be undone, they must therefore have patience perforce.  
Well he brings his fair Bride home to his own house, where (God wots) he hath but a small time of pleasure, for within three or four months after their marriage, she is brought to bed: judge then in what taking the poor man is. If he put her away, his shame will be public, she grows common, and he not permitted to marry again while he lives, and if he keep her still, love her he cannot, suspect her he will, and she both hate him, & perhaps seek his end: Finally, all the joys, pleasures, and delights which before time they had, are all turned to brawls, banning, cursing and fight, Thus is he hampered in Lob's pound, where he must of force remain, till death ends his lives miseries.   

CHAP. XII. The humour of a woman being matched with an over kind Husband.  
THere is another humour incident to a Woman, which is when a Young man hath turmoiled and tossed himself so long, that with much ado, he hath gotten into Lob's pound, and hath perhaps met with a Wife according to his own desire, and perchance such a one, that it had been better for him to have lighted on another: Yet he likes her so well, that he would not have missed her for any Gold, for in his opinion there is no Woman alive like unto her, he hath a great delight to hear her speak, is proud of his match, and peradventure is withal of so sheepish a Nature, that he hath purposed wholly to govern himself by her counsel and direction: So that if any one speak to him about a Bargain, or whatsoever other business, he tells them that he will have his Wife's opinion in it, and if she be contented, he will go thorough with it; if not, then will he give it over: Thus is he as tame and pliable as a jack-an-apes to his Reeper. If the Prince set forth an Army, and she be unwilling that he should go, who (you may think) will ask her leave, then must he stay at home, fight who will for the Country: But if she be at any time desirous to have his room (which many times she likes better than his company) she wants no journeys to employ him in, and he is as ready as a Page to undertake them: If she chide, he answers not a word; generally, whatsoever she doth, or howsoever, he thinks it well done.  
judge now what a case this silly Calf is in: Is not he (think you) finely dressed, that is in such subjection? The honestest Woman, and most modest of that Sex, if she wear the Breeches, she is so out of reason in taunting and controlling her Husband: For this is their common fault, and be she never so wise, yet because a Woman, scarce able to govern herself, much less her Husband, and all his affairs: For were it not so, doubtless God would have made her the head: which sigh it is otherwise, what can be more preposterous, than that the Head should be governed by the Foot? If then a wise and honest Woman's superiority be unseemly, and breed great incoveniences, etc. How is he dressed (think you) if he light on a fond, wanton, and malicious Dame? Then (doubtless) he is sound sped: she will not stick to keep a sweetheart under his nose; yet is he so blind, that he can perceive nothing, but for more security she will many times send him packing beyond Sea about some odd errand, which she will buzz in his ears, and he will perform it at her pleasure, albeit she send him forth at midnight, in Rain, Hail, or Snow, for he must be a man fit for all weathers: Their children (if they have any) must needs be brought up, apparelled, fed, and taught, only according to her pleasure: and one special point of their learning, is always to make no account of their Father: If any of their children be daughters, she will marry them according to her mind, to whom she list, when she list, and give with them what Dowry she list, without acquainting him therewith, till she have concluded the match, and then she tells him not to have his consent, but as a Master may tell his servant, to give him direction how to behave himself to deal therein. Finally, she order all things as she thinks best herself, making no more account of him (especially if he be in years) than men do of an old horse which is past labour.  
Thus is he mewed up in Lob's pound, plunged in a sea of cares and corrosives, yet he (kind fool) deems himself most happy in his unhappiness, where he must now perforce remain while his life doth last, and great pity it were he should want it, sith he likes it so well.   

CHAP. XIII. The humour of a Woman whose Husband is gone beyond the Sea, upon some business.  
ANother humour of a woman is, when the Husband hath been married some seven or eight years, more or less, and as he thinks, he hath met with a good Wife as any man can have, with whom he hath continued all the aforesaid time, with great delights and pleasures: But admit he be a Gentleman, and that he is desirous to purchase honour by following Arms and in this humour he is resolved to make a step abroad, and not to tarry always like a cowardly Drone by the smoke of his own Chimney: But when he is ready to departed, she having her cheeks blubbered with tears, falls about his neck, culls, kisseth, and embraceth him, then weeping sighing, and sobbing, she thus gins to him:  
Ah sweet Husband, will you now leave me? Will you thus departed from me, and from your loving Children, which know not when we shall see you again, or whether you shall ever come home again or no? Alas sweet Husband go not: Tarry with us still, if you leave us, we are utterly undone.  
Ah sweet Wife (saith he) dissuade me not from this enterprise, which concerns my Credit and Allegiance: for it is our Prince's commandment, and I must obey: but be you well assured, I will not be long from you (if it please God.)  
Thus doth he comfort and quiet her in the best sort that he can, and be she never so importunate, be her tears never so many, her entreaty never so forcible, yet go he will, esteeming his Renown and Duty to his Prince and Country, more than Wife and Children, though next to it, he esteem and love them chiefest of all other. And at his departure, he recommends them to the care and courtesy of his chiefest friends: Yet some there be whose tender hearts melt so easily with kind compassion that one of their wives tears, and the least of their entreaties, will tie them so fast by the leg at home, that they will not stir one foot from her sweet side, neither for Ring nor Keysar, Wealth nor Honour. These are Cravens, and unworthy to be called Gentlemen.  
But to return to this valorous and brave minded Gentleman, of whom we spoke before; It may be, that either by the long continuance of the Wars, or by his misfortunes, in being taken Prisoner, or some other let, he comes not home in four or five years, and all that while there is no news of him, you may be sure that his Wife is a sorrowful Woman, and wholly surcharged with grief, being thus deprived of her loving Mate, and hearing nothing of his estate. But all things have an end, and she seeing that in so long time, she can hear no tidings of him, doth peremptorily conclude that he is dead. Then considering to live comefortlesse in Widow's estate, were an uncouth life, she determines to marry herself to some; one, so soon as conveniently she may: which will be soon enough; for a fair Woman, if willing, can want no choice. Thus the former sorrow is somewhat alaid, and within a while after, clean extinguished by the fresh delights, pleasures, contents and solace, which this new choice doth yield. So that now her other Husband is wholly forgotten, her Children which she had by him little regarded and the Goods which belong to them, are spent on others, while the poor wretches want things needful, but not blows and hard usage. To be short, the tears which she bestowed upon her other Husband at his departure, are dried up, her embraces vanished. And whosoever should see her with this second Husband, and what kindness she shows him, would verily think that she loves him far berter than she did the first, who in the mean while is either taken Prisoner, or else fight in extreme hazard of his life.  
But in the end it chanceth so, that by paying his Ransom (if he have been prisoner) home he comes, clean changed, through the many troubles he hath had: and being come somewhat naer, fails not to inquire of his wife and children, for he is in great fear, that they are either dead, or in some great distress. And doubtless in the time of his Imprisonment, or other dangers, he hath oft thought, oft dreamt of them and oft sorrowed for them, oft besought God to preserve and bless them. And that perhaps sometimes, at the very instant when she was in the others arms, toiing and dallying, and in the midst of her delights.  
Well, enquiring (as aforesaid) he hears that she is married again, then judge you with what grief he hears it. But his grief is boorlesse, for now the matter is past remedy, if he have any care of his credit, any regard of his estimation he will never take her more though perhaps the other, having his pleasure of her, could be well contented either to restore her to him, or to leave her to any one else.  
She on the other side is utterly ashamed, and her name stained with perpetual reproach: and neither he nor she can marry whiles they live. Their poor children are likewise grieved and shamed at their Mother's infamy. Sometimes likewise it happens that for the wife's cause the Husband being courageous quarrels, and perhaps combats with him, who being better than himself, doth either wound or kill him, and the occasion hereof sprung from their wife's pride, because (for sooth) she will take the wall of the other Wife or sit above her: whom she will in no wise suffer, nor lose an inch of her estate, and hereupon the Husbands must go together by the ears.  
Thus the supposed blessedness which he expected by plunging himself in Lob's pound, is turned into sorrow, trouble, danger, and continual discontent while life doth last.   

CHAP. XIV. The humour of a Woman that hath been twice married  
THere is another humour belonging to a Woman, which is, when a Young man (having found the way into Lob's pound) meets with a Wife of like years, fresh, lusty, fair, kind, and gracious: with whom he hath lived two or three years in all delights, joys and pleasures, that any married couple could have. Never did the one displease the other; never foul word passed betwixt them but they are almost still colling and billing each other like a couple of Doves: And nature hath framed such Sympathy berween them, that if the one be ill at ease or discontented, the other is so likewise. But in the midst of this their mutual love and solace, it chanceth that she dies, whereat he grieves so extremely, that he is almost beside himself with sorrow: he mourns not only in his Apparel, for an outward show, but unfeignedly in his very heart, and that so much, that he shuns all places of pleasure and all company, life's solitarily, and spends the time in daily complaints and moans, and bitterly bewailing the loss of so good a Wife, wherein no man can justly blame him, for it is a loss worthy to be lamented, and a jewel, which whosoever hath, is happy (but this happiness is very rare.)  
To be short, his thoughts are all on her, and she is so firmly printed in his mind, that whether he sleep or wake, she seems always to be in his sight: but as all things have an end, so here had sorrow. After a while, some of his friends having spied out a second match, which as they think is very fit for him, do prevail so much with him, through their persuasions, that he accepts it, and marries himself again, but not as before, with a Young Maid, but with a lusty Widow, of a middle age, and much experience, who by the trial which she had of the first Husband, knows how to handle the second: But that she may do it the better, she doth not presently discover her humour, till she have thoroughly marked how he is inclined, what his conditions are, and what his nature is: which finding it mild, and kind, and very flexible (the fittest mould to cast a Fool in) having now the full length of his foot, the shows she herself what she is, unmasking her dissembling malice; her first attempt is to usurp Superioriry and to become his Head, and this she obtains without great difficulty, for there is nothing so lavish as a simple and well natured young man, being in subjection, that is married to a Widow, especially if she be (as the most of them are) of a perverse and crabbed nature. I may very well compare him to an unfortunate Wretch, whose ill fortune is to be cast into some strong Prison, under the keeping of a most cruel and pitiless jailor, that is not moved to compassion, but rather to great rigour, in beholding the miseries of this poor Wretch, whose only refuge in this distress, is to pray unto God, to give him patience to endure this cross, for if he complain of his hard usage, it will afterwards prove worse.  
But to proceed. This jolly Widow will within a while grow jealous, fear and suspect that some other Dame hath part of that which she so earnestly desired, and wherewith she could never be satisfied, so that if he glut not her insatiate humour, straightway she conceiveth this opinion; If he do but only talk, nay, (which is worse) look on any other Woman, For the by her good will would be always in his arms, or at the least in his company: For as the Fish which having been in water, that through the heat of the summer is half dried up, gins to stick full of mud, seeks for fresh water, and having found it, doth willingly remain therein, and will in no wise return to his former place: Then so an old Woman, having gotten a young Man, will cling to him like joy to an Elm.  
But on the other side, a young man cannot love an old Woman, howsoever he doth dissemble, neither is there any that more endangers his death: for it is with him, as with one that drinketh musty wine, who if he be thirsty, feels nothing while he is drinking, but at the end of his draught, he feels such a displeasing taste, that it doth almost turn his stomach.  
But if young men in no wife can fancy old Women, what love think you young Women can bear to old Men, when besides the sundry imperfections of their Age, which are so loathsome, that it is impossible for a fresh, young, tender Damsel, (be she never so virtuous) to endure their company, much less the kisses and embraces of the person which hath them: All the lusty Gallants thereabouts will not fail to use whatsoever devices and means possible for the horning of the old Dotard: hoping that she will be easily won to wantonness: And surely they ground this hope on great liklihood; for sigh it is no difficult exploit to graft the like kindness on a young man's forehead, who is able in far better measure to feed his Wife's appetite, and the hath therefore more cause to be true to him, it may surely seem no great matter to perform the like piece of service with this other unfortunate Dame.  
But now to return to our young man, yoked (as before I said) to this old Widow, I thus conclude, that his estate is most miserable: For besides the danger of his health, and besides the subjection, nay rather servitude which he lives in, this third evil, (I mean his Wife's jealousy) is alone an untolerable torment unto him: So that be he never so quiet, never so desirous to content her, never so fearful to displease her, yet cannot he avoid her brawls, objections, and false accusations of Lewdness and Disloyalty: For an Old Woman infected with jealousy, is like a Hellish Fury.  
If you go to any of her Friends about business, yea, to the Church to serve God, yet will she always think the worst, and assure herself, that he plays false, though indaed he be never so continent: Who whatsoever he pleadeth in his own defence, yea, though he prove himself blameless, by such reasons as she can by no reason confute, yet will not all this satisfy her: Such is the perverseness of her stubborn, crabbed, and malicious nature, made worse by Dotage and Raging jealousy: For being privy to her own defects, and knowing that he by reason of his youth and handsomeness may perchance fall in favour with a young Dame, thinking withal that a young man, when he may have such a match, will be loath to leave it for a worse or prefer sour verjuice before sweet wine, she concludes peremptorily in those suggestions as before. Lo here the issues of this Asses turning into Lob's pound, and entangling of himself again, when he had once gotten out to his former liberty, which if he once more looked for, he is mad; for he must now perforce continue there while life doth last, which by this means, will be far shorter, and he look far older, having been but two years married with this old crib, than if he had lived ten years with a young wife.   

CHAP. The humour of a young Woman given over to all kind of wantonness.  
THere is yet another humour that a Woman is subject to, which is, when an unfortunate young Man having long laboured to get into Lob's pound, and having in the end obtained his desires, doth match himself with a lusty wanton Young Wench, which without fear of him, or care of her own credit, takes her pleasure freely, and withal so over boldly, and unadvisedly, that within a while her Husband perceives it, who thereupon being not a little enraged, doth in the heat of his impatience, after much brawling on both sides, roughly and desperately threaten her, thinking thereby to terrify her, and make her honest by compulsion: But that makes her worse, for where as before she did it for wantonness, now will she do it for despite: and what with the one and the other, be so inflamed, that were she sure to be killed for it, yet would she not leave it: Which he perceiving watching her do so narrowly, that in the end he sees her sweetheart come closely to his house, then being on fire with fury, runs hastily to surprise him, and enters his Wife's Chamber, with full purpose to kill him, though he had ten thousand lives: But judge you what a taking the poor young man is in, seeing himself thus surprised, and looking for nothing else but present death, because he hath nothing to defend himself. But she, for whose sake he hath incurred this danger, doth kindly free him by this stratagem: for as her Husband is ready to strike or stab him, she catcheth him hastily about the middle, crying out, Alas man what do you mean? While she thus stays her Husband, the younker betakes him to his heels, running down the stairs amain, and out of the doors, as if the Devil were at his tail, and after him the good man, as fast as he can drive. But when he sees that he cannot overtake him, he turns back in a like rage, to wreak his anger on his Wife. But she dreading as much gets her hastily (before his return) to her Mother, to whom she complains of his caussess suspicion, and Devilish fury, justifying herself, as if she were not the Woman that would commit so lewd a part: But her Mother sifting the matter narrowly, her Daughter confesseth her fault, but to make it seem the less, she tells her a large tale of the Young Man's importunity, who for so long time together, did continually trouble her, and whither so ever she went he would be sure to follow her, begging pitifully her love, and favour, that she had often sharply answered him, and flatly denied his Suit, yet could she not for all that be rid of him: so that in the end she was enforced for her own quietness to grant his request: She repeats withal, how kindly and entirely he loves her, how much he hath bestowed on her, how many foul journeys he hath had for her sake, in Rain and Snow, as well by Night as Day, in danger of Thiefs, in peril of his Life, and how narrowly he escaped her Husband the last time, so that for very pity and compassion, she was moved to favour him: And no Woman could be so hard hearted, as to suffer so true and kind a Young Man to languish for her love, and die unregarded: for on my life Mother (saith she) if I had not yielded, he would have died for thought.  
The Mother hearing her Daughter to say thus, accepts her answer for current, and thinks that she hath sufficiently justified herself; but to prevent further scandal, and to appease her angry son in law, and reconciled her Daughter unto him by casting a mist before his eyes, she takes this course, she sends for her special Gossips and Companions. whose counsels in like cases she doth use: They coming at the first call, and being all assembled, either before a good fire (if it be Winter) or in a green Arbour (if it be Summer) one of them noting her daughters heavy countenance, demands the cause thereof: Marry (saith she) she hath had a mischance, about which I have made bold to trouble you, and crave your advice: With that she recounts all the whole matter unto them, but showing the true cause of her Husband's anger: To be short, she hath ready two or three pottles of Wine, and a few junkets, which they presently fall aboard on, that they may the berter give their several verdicts afterwards; mean while they comfort the Young Woman, bidding her assure herself, that her Husband is more perplexed than she, and that I know by mine own experience, for my Husband and I were once at variance, but he could never be quiet till we were made friends. In good faith Gossip (saith another) and so served I mine. Another 〈◊〉 makes a motion to send for the Young Gallant that is so true a 〈◊〉 to her Gossip's Daughter, that his presence may cheer her; and 〈◊〉 away her Melancholy.  
This Motion doth her Mother faintly contradict, but in the end most voices prevail, he is sent for and comes with a trice, than there is much good that, many a rerpoach and kind scoff given the poor Husband: And to mend the matter, comes in the Chambermaid, who was privy to all the former close packing between her Mistress and her Sweet heart, and for her silence and employment, in furthering both their contents, she hath gotten a good new gown and somewhat else.  
It may be her Master hath sent her abroad about some business, or perhaps she coins an excuse of herself, thereby only to make a step abroad to see her Mistress, and to bring her some news how all things go at home: She hath no sooner set her foot within the room where they are, than one of them ask how her Master doth? My Master (saith she) I never saw a man in that taking: I dare say, that since yesterday morning when this misfortune happened, he hath not eaten one crumb, drunk one drop, or slept one wink all yesternight. To day he sat down to dinner, and put one bit in his mouth, but could not swallow it, for he spit it out presently, & sat a good while after in a dump: In the end striking his knife on the table, he risen hastily, and went into the Garden, and immediately came in again: To be share, be is altogether out of temper, and can rest no where: He doth nothing but sigh and sob, and he looks like a dead man: hereat they laugh apace, and to be short, they determine that two of the chief of them, shall go and speak with him the next morning, and that when they are in the midst of their talk, the rest shall come in afterward. The Mother with her two Gossips, according to this plot, do proceed in the matter. And next morning finding him in his dumps, one of them gently asks him what he ails: hereto he answers only with a sigh: whereupon she takes occasion thus to speak: In good faith Gossip, I must chide you, my Gossip your wife's mother told me I know not what of a disagreement between your wife and you, and a certain fond humour that you are fallen into: I wis I am sorry to hear it: And before God you are not so wise as I had thought you had been, to wrong your wife thus 〈◊〉 shout a cause, for I durst lay my life there is no such matter. 〈◊〉 this good day (saith another) I have known her ever since she was a little one, both Maid and Wife, and I never saw but well by the woman: And in good sooth it grieves me to the very heart, that her name should now come in question without cause: Before God, you have done the poor woman that disgrace, and so stained her good name, that you will never be able to make her amends. Then steps in the Chambermaid with her five eggs In good faith (saith she) I know not what my Master hath seen, or whereon he doth ground his suspicion, but I take God to my witness, that I never saw any such matter by my Mistress and yet I am sure that if there were any such thing, I should see it as soon as another. God's body, Drab (saith he, all enraged) wilt thou face me down of that which myself saw? Oh Gossip, (quoth the one of the Dames) God forbidden that every man and woman which are alone together, should do evil. I deny not (saith the Chambermaid) that the villainous knave hath long sued unto my Mistress for such a matter, but by my honesty Master, I know that there is never a man alive, whom she hates more: And rather than she would commit any such folly with him, she would see him hanged and be burned herself: I marvel how the Devil he got into the house.  
Here the other Gossips come in, one after another, and each gives her verdict: In good faith Gossip (saith one) I think that next your wife, there is never a woman in the world, that loves you better than I do: and if I knew or thought any such matter, I would not let to tell you of it. Surely (saith another) this is but the Devils work to set them at variance, for he cannot abide that husband and wife should live well together. In good faith saith the third, the poor woman doth nothing but weep, By Christ (quoth the fourth) I fear it will cost her her life, she grieves and takes on in such sort. Then comes the Mother weeping and crying out making as though the would scratch out his eyes with her nails; exclaiming in this sort.  
Ah cursed Caitiff, woe worth the time that ever my Daughter matched with thee, to be thus shamed and slandered, and have her name spotted without cause. But she is well enough served, that would take such a base churl, when she might have had sundry good Gentlemen. Ah good Gossip (saith another) be not out of patience.  
Ah Gossip (saith she) if my Daughter were in fault, by our good Lord, I would kill her myself. But think ye I have no cause to be moved, when I see my child, being guiltless, thus used? With that she flings out of doors in a rage, and all the Gossips come upon him thick and threefold, who is so full of sundry thoughts, and so grieved and troubled, that he knows not whereon to resolve, nor what to say.  
In the end they growing some what calmer, promise if he will, to undertake the reconciling of him and his wife, which he most earnestly desireth them to do.  
They accordingly perform it, so that all controversies are ended, all strife ceased, the matter hushed up, and his wife taken home again; who taking greater courage by the success hereof, and being now clean past shame. will grow far bolder in her villainy, than before. And he door Meacock, on the other side, having his courage thus quailed, will never afterwards fall at odds with her, for fear of the like storm, but will suffer her to have her own will in all things, and be in a manner subject to her, spending the remnant of his life in care, fear, discontent and grief, his goods wasting he knows not how, and himself become alaughing stock to all that know him.    

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FINIS.