A Friendly APOLOGY, In the behalf of the Woman's Excellency: Together with some Examples of Women-Worthies. As also the Character of a Virtuous and Accomplished Woman: Wherein Ladies of Pleasure are taxed and admonished.  
Written in Verse by J. Golborne, sometime Fellow of Trinity College near DUBLIN.  Si Natura negat, facit admiratio versum Qualemcunque potest.— 
LONDON, Printed, for Henry Mortlock, and are to be sold at the Sign of the Phoenix in St. Paul's Churchyard, and at the White Hart in Westminster Hall. 1674.   

TO THE Most Virtuous AND Pious LADY Mrs. Katherine Booth.  
Madam,  
SInce famed Laureates never durst  
Adventure on the noblest Themes at first,  
But were so modest doubtfully to peep  
Out of their private Cells, and then to creep  
In arguments much lower, till well how  
To trust their wings they knew, from bough to bough  
Of various subjects fluttered, judging best  
So to attempt that danger might be least,  
Till arts had been more liberal thought, they might  
Not safely venture an Heroic flight.  
Pardon this boldness, that presumes to try  
First hand on piece of Curiosity;  
Which better would deserve the richest vein  
Of smooth conceit, out of the pregnant brain  
Of one, to whom kind Nature first had been  
Of much more virtue than the Hippocrene.  
My fancy (not well versed when first put to't)  
Would not persuaded be to stir a foot  
On other subjects; yet did freely run,  
That her due service might in part be done  
Unto your sex; and if she limps, the fault  
She calls her own: lameness doth make her halt,  
You cause her move; and what is to express  
Her gratitude, will make crime somewhat less.  
In this Essay, I have sought to no Fairy,  
Called Muse, that keeps her wild haunts at Canary.  
Your mind is sober; nor durst I think fit  
To offer you poor gathering of wit.  
You need not such collection, which is more  
Fit for those persons, that in worth are poor.  
Grant very small allowance: bate the Verse  
That waited on your pious S●sters horse:  
And charge not some choice sentences which you  
Know well, to whom their service best is due;  
And what is stolen will not amount to be  
Fit to be charged with Pettit-larceny.  
Should I call women Deities, you'd be  
Displeased (Madam) with the blasphemy:  
Or phrase them nobler creatures than men are,  
You likewise might, condemn the flatterer.  
Should I pass bounting Lasses and the Jigs  
Uncivil, of the City-whirligigs;  
Their pride, their luxury, their antic dresses,  
Their bare necks, painted faces, and their tresses,  
Whereby they would ensnare their wanton tongues  
In lovesome Catches and lascivious Songs;  
Their going unto Church, bringing no more  
From thence, than what new dresses Gallants wore;  
Frequenting Plays, lest therein they should do  
Too little, there becoming Actors too.  
I should unworthily at least suggest  
That you so little baseness do detest  
Of shameless Hippia's, as not to admit  
They should be lashed by Scorpions of wit.  
Whereas I know you loathe that hateful Crew  
That brag of breeding, brave, and fruitful too,  
Use broad words, and large liberties as seat  
Of gallantry, the way to become great-  
Bellied, that they may bear their shameful sin,  
And suffer plague of birth and lying in.  
Should I forget my Gossip, that can tell  
How to turn over tongue a spic'd-cup well,  
With whose loud tittle tattle those folks are  
Troubled, that deal not in such peddling ware;  
But mind their own concerns, and do not pry  
Into concerns of the next family:  
Should I pass her, whose spongy lungs, as sails  
Are swollen, but not when dry, with telling tales  
Of private merriments, scarce Civil jars  
Familiar talk, and of Domestic wars;  
Where will be next, and where was the last wedding,  
And all the pretty passages at bedding;  
How Madam Hasty gave to little Grace  
Her chambermaid, a blue and broken face,  
Because she came not at first call; how ill  
Her Master took it, that showed his good will;  
How Nell came to mischance by Knavery  
Of Will; how Joan beat silly Ralph, and why:  
Not to chastise such gross defectives must  
Show me more Civil to the Sex, than Just  
Unto the virtuous, who bear others shame,  
B●ushing at boldness of the wan●on Dame,  
And their impertinence vain, that are grown  
Knowing in all concernments, but their own.  
To set off virtues of your sex, a whole  
Venus if painted, will but make a mole.  
Apollo's when he drew his masterpiece,  
And summoned in the Paragoas of Greece  
For beauty, as their excellence did very  
Unto his pencil to be tributary,  
Venus her mole forgot not; but did place,  
And make, her comely with it in her face.  
Praise of a sex, without exception, may  
Fit only people of Utopia;  
Cannot sincerely be adapted to  
The state of sinful mortals here below,  
Where those few persons do appear most rare  
And excellent, in whom least vices are.  
They cannot be from Adam of th' whole blood,  
That are without all humane faileurs good.  
Let idle brains make silly sport to vex,  
And force their fancies to disgrace your sex  
With all the virtuous; vainly they do try  
To levelly at the Stars which are too high.  
This most will fret them, and stir up their gall,  
That they provoke, and move you not at all:  
When unconcerned you gain the victory,  
And overcome them by your passing by.  
The Rustic that all day hath toiled at plough,  
Puts off his clogs at night, begins to woe  
At a strange rate; in Complementing Amy  
He takes up phrase befitting Academy.  
Not single flowers of Tropes will do, but clustered,  
That with conceit do make him foully flustered,  
And strangely elevated: he scorn now  
To term her Pigsney, darling, Ladicow.  
His heightened fancy longer will not truckle,  
In pleasing her his Primrose, Honeysuckle.  
The Gardens fair sweet; serve him not in prose;  
Talip, Clovegilliflower, Lily, Rose.  
Out of the Sun, Stars, and the brightest Rosy  
Blushes of morn he gathers her a Posy.  
And if he gets some little Scribe to write,  
He makes small matter, matter to indite.  
Hearing of Po'sie, she thinks to disclose  
Meaning, by holding letter to her Nose;  
Or sticking it in bosom, knows not well,  
That paper flowers are for the sight, not smell.  
The frantic gallant eyes his Ladies look,  
More than young Chanter doth his Singing-book:  
Dancing attendance most officiously  
After the lessons of her fiddling eye:  
Like Statue stands in admiration of  
Each syllable, st●p, frown, smile, glance, and coff.  
The sacred Laurel he will need invoke,  
That never learned so far as Holioke;  
To celebrate grace that was never in her,  
And yet condemn himself a mortal sinner  
For his Omission: but that is not it  
Makes him so bad: but what he could commit.  
How like a Malefactor doth he sta●d,  
Expecting sentence? What is her command?  
Shall he or live or die? Upon one breath  
Depends his happy life, or woeful death.  
Great Empress she, that with a pleasant I?  
Can make him live; and with a No to die;  
Though much dejected, and cast down erewhile,  
Yet she can set him up with a kind smile.  
When his brains thin'd are almost into air  
Turned by Sunbeams of her face, he'll swear  
He plainly sees the tippling Graces sip  
Nectar distilling from her ruby-lip:  
Though dazzled, Angels yet that he espies  
Sporting within those Crystal Spheres her eyes.  
There's no such Music in the heavenly Spheres  
As in her voice, which always charms his ears.  
She's in each sound, he hears no ring of bells,  
But what of her some pretty story tells.  
The little chirping s●ngsters in his thought  
Speak her so plain, as if they had been taught  
To sing their Sapp●●i●ks; and her praise in Rhyme  
His head well stuffed with fumes doth learn to chime;  
All this is nought, he is below his Theme  
Unless he be right Artist to blaspheme.  
What is his heaven here on earth? her love;  
And there's no heaven that he seeks above.  
Were not his admiration without  
True object, you would think him Saint devout.  
He cringes, and with superstitious fear  
Standeth, as her Divinity draws near.  
Good cause, if you believe his precious stories  
Of the strange brightness, and celestial glories  
He sees encircling her, these witnessed by  
Those that are sick of his love lunacy.  
The man thus Planet-stricken, gives full rain  
Unto his fancy, th' utmost he can feign  
Of Compliments bestows, runs on the score,  
Until his Worship can take up no more.  
If she contract her countenance, and frown  
Upon him, that is death, he's tumbled down  
From all his hopes, and happiness, which now  
He did enjoy in smoothness of her brow.  
How wretched is the man, since fallen from grace,  
And excommunicated from her face?  
He hates the light, his life, you cannot give  
Greater affront, than wishing him to live.  
What can you love him, and be so unkind  
To wish him bear such torments in his mind,  
As while he lives he must? Then snatches sword  
Kisses it as dear friend, that will afford  
Deliverance: but stay, before good night  
Pray give him leave to take up Pen and write  
Some doleful Verses of his faithful love  
In his brave death for Phillis, which may move  
Her to relent, and to vouchsafe a tear,  
Or show her more unkind than Marbles are.  
He order Ceremonies to attend,  
And lively to set out a Lover's end  
In his last Will and Testament; forgets  
His soul to God to bequeath. And what lets?  
She was his only Deity, alone  
To her he paid his Devotion.  
What hence will follow, reason must not tell,  
His madness doth suppose a milder hell  
Than her displeasure: this this makes him snatch  
His sword again, resolved to dispatch  
Himself: but that he wisely thinks withal  
He shall not have a Christian burial  
As felo de se, and he scorns to be  
Guilty of any act of Felony.  
Is he content to live? fie on't: he'll go  
Unto some foreign broils, and force his foe  
To do, what friends would not, though begged, and ten  
To one time, wars do make him wise again.  
But if quite desperate he seeks relief,  
And with his Rapier makes a vent for grief  
What hazard runs he? leaving friends this sad  
Ground for their charity that he was mad.  
Phrenetick passions of such men may serve  
Those that do not know what it's to deserve  
Sober affections, would not well resent  
Any thing, that were truly excellent.  
Let the enamoured ●ress painted Jays,  
Address them to the Idol of their praise▪  
Here the design is honest, to give due  
Honour to Ladies, that be such as you  
Are, and would be; not living just by sense  
Of some folk good esteem; but Conscience.  
Not pleasing humour of that sort who have  
Great fear lest that they should be thought too grave.  
Discretion you make not to withstand  
Civility, but give it more command;  
Obligingly that it may entertain  
The civil person, and ●ongue-tye the vain.  
Such was deportment of the English Dame  
Of old, which gave a lustre to her name  
Over the world: but with disdainful brow  
Is looked upon as out of fashion now.  
Amongst vain Gallants strait laced modesty  
Is ill b●ed, rustic; too precise, too shy.  
Amongst parts of Philosophy we range  
Ethics, and with the rest they bear a change.  
As some young Empirics their skill must try  
Body to pu●ge of physiology,  
Which they say Physic wants, and principles  
Her body's head, are head of her disease.  
Though purged sound, her they think not sound  
Enough, until with her the world turn round.  
It may be visit Mistress Dialectic,  
Feel her pulse, find her in a fearful Hectic:  
Her Terms are naught; her Syllogisms all  
Obstruct her, they must out both great, and small.  
Sorites fears he shall be laid in chains;  
And Violent●m looks for horrid pains:  
Exemplum to be made example: scorns  
Cause poor Dilemma to pull in her horns.  
Celarent wishes she were safely hid.  
Festino runs in danger to be chid.  
And Barbara the best of all abused,  
Fears to Bocardo she shall be reduced.  
But F●rio will not be baffled so,  
If he must out, he'll leave a parting blow.  
Thus Physicking of her, they're found no season  
To end, until they leave her void of reason.  
So have some wantoness quite rejected old  
Moral Philosophy, as dry, and cold:  
Questioned all principles, and practice too  
Of ancients virtue, and set up a new  
Model of modesty, which you presents  
With much more strange, than safe experiments.  
They say, a place that's fortified doth s●eak  
The outward strength, but City to be weak.  
That City's strong, that hath not its defence  
From walls; but valour of the Citizens.  
Strength of their virtues only way to try,  
Is to expose it to the enemy.  
If you'll believe, their honour by the trial  
Is brighter; for they ●empt to m●ke denial.  
Their husband's living they contract and call  
It innocence; may pass the Ordeal,  
Run through hat coulters blindfold, safe and sound;  
And yet not fear the danger of a wound.  
These can mistake their husband's beds, and be  
Not to be charged with disloyalty.  
Such resolution, that can make defence  
At disadvantage, is the quintessence  
Of virtue: if you can, you may believe  
(Like Tutia's on trial) in a ●ieve,  
That they can water carry, lead and bring  
A ship b●sanded by their ap●on-string,  
As Claudia, have heaven standing by  
And witnessing unto their chastity.  
They must give leave to fo●k to be more wise,  
To judge by charity of sober size,  
And then their virtue in Heroic sense  
Elixir is of highest impudence.  
Your virtue (Madam) taketh it all one  
To forfeit, and to give occasion  
To folly; and for medicine doth not lie  
At the Bethesda of world's charity.  
A most heroic, and approved repute,  
Neither makes way for baseness, or dispute.  
The Libertine, before that knew no Law  
To curb him, must confess your power to awe  
Into Civility feigned; what he hates,  
Charmed by your presence, yet he personates.  
Ashamed you are not piety to own  
Amongst so many, when a scorn it's grown:  
And for Religion publicly appear,  
To practise which, in private some do fear.  
May I presume, here to present to view  
Beauties, such as Apelles never drew:  
May I adventure to defend their Rights  
Of old, that tried the Chivalry of Knights,  
To plead their cause, since they are made unfit  
For want of Learning, not for want of Wit.  
May this my Pencil venture on a face,  
Where every taking feature is a Grace.  
May this not seem in vain, which seldom done,  
Yet is the duty of each Mother's son.  
May these few Rhymes (Madam) accepted be,  
And gain your Licence, but to publish me,  
Your humble Servant, JOHN GOLBORNE.   

THE WOMAN'S EXCELLENCE.  
WHen man against unclean concupiscence  
Had a pure mind an adamantine fence,  
And heart more cleanly, than which doth possess  
The breast of most Religious Votaress,  
Without so much as thought of vain desire,  
And spark of that base culinary fire:  
Alone, it was not good that he should be  
Without a woman, and good company.  
When Sophy, Prester, and Imperial  
Highness, with Monarch Ecumenical,  
Were summed up in Adam; yet a she  
Is made to peer him in his dignity.  
The glorious Angels, those bright morning stars  
Too high were, to be his familiars.  
The plants, and sensitives were not thought meet  
For him, as being set below his feet.  
But Eve created is, and made his Bride,  
First taken out of, then unto his fide,  
To be one with himself, that he may see  
In her a rational Imagery.  
Pictures are dark resemblances, they can  
Give outward form, and figure of the man.  
Glasses afford obscurely (save the shape  
Of man) scarce any thing but Antic Ape.  
She is the lovely glass, where he may find  
The lively picture of his noble mind.  
Likeness of outward frame, and inward too  
Creates affection, makes the wise man woe.  
Not without likeness of the same soul can  
The outward feature make help meet for man.  
Who can then think, that any man should be  
Besotted with a piece of Masonry,  
Or marble? that Lot's Wife petrified,  
Should chance to have been courted for a Bride?  
That man so monstrously should play the Ape,  
Upon a cloud, as to commit a Rape?  
Yet is it certain, flesh, blood, shape affects  
The most, much more than reason of the sex.  
Men gaze at colours, and neglect the coal  
From heaven that is sent, a prudent soul  
That suffers not by time; but pure doth last,  
When feature and complexion are defaced.  
He showeth not lest part of man, to whom  
A marble Madam is companion.  
And with incestuous Pygmalion  
Carveth the Statue that he dotes upon.  
Though what her husband did command to be  
Done, or undone, he found her always free:  
And silent she could bear, what heart of stone  
Would mo●e, to be called Slut, foul Carrion;  
Though this rare property were in his Bride,  
In all her time she ne'er was heard to chide;  
Nor with some costly Dames was at vast charge,  
That she might follow each new Mode at large;  
Nor with new fashions keep an equal pace;  
Nor had brave Flanders prancing on her face;  
For back or belly though she raised no score,  
And like good huswife, ne'er stirred out of door:  
Yet since she wanted reason, sense, and life,  
She could not make a comfortable Wife.  
That Gallant is not half so wise as nice,  
That is afraid of wisdom in his choice.  
Is she a wise woman? That makes him start,  
As if she were a Mistress of Black Art.  
He fears she will be proud, and learn the foul  
Practice of some Wives, Husbands to control  
With sweet advice, which makes the Bedlam roar,  
Fret, fume, swear, ban, and so much rage the more.  
For to his great disparagement she'll be  
Not without cause esteemed more wise, than he.  
Give him a Wench that knows no more than how  
Her clothes to put on, when he speaks to bow  
With reverence; and not without a Sir  
Before his Worship suffers tongue to stir;  
And as well disciplined doth understand  
How to obey what he's pleased to command;  
That's troubled with the softs, and while he tires  
His wiser hearers, stare●, gapes, and admires  
At every sentence; this, this is a Lass,  
That for a most obedient Wife may pass:  
She stirs not, though he have her not in string:  
At a proud word hath learned to fetch and bring:  
A creature tame; and therefore thought more meet,  
Because she lieth couchant at his feet.  
Who, though all manhood he hath qui●e withdrawn,  
And spit●eth in her face, begins to fawn,  
They that say women have no humane souls  
If true; they are not men, but may be foals  
Of some wild Ass, and should they be allied  
As husbands, they would be quite brutified.  
And more like beasts than Centaurs were, and then  
They might beget a monstrous race of men,  
Much worse, than where the piebald issues sight  
Presents with Negro's black, Europa's white.  
These from themselves do only differ in  
The outward colour, in a spotted skin.  
But they are preternaturals, at best  
A sort of Mongr●lls strange, half man, half beast.  
They may deny them souls, and judgement too,  
If that they think those men are ●it to woe,  
And make their applications with success  
In compliments, and humours that profess  
By all their carriage in their lovesome fits  
That they are mad, and quite beside their wits.  
Else certainly they could not be so base  
In face so foully virtues to misplace,  
Where beauty playstered wantoness to invite,  
Is but a Pict, and odious hypocrite.  
She's oddly self-conceited, that thinks praise  
He throws at random on her, what he brays,  
Rather than speaks of virtue, to be due;  
Or (if perchance it should) that he speaks true,  
That keeps no measure in his passions heat,  
Nor aims to speak what's suitable, but great,  
Nothing doth limit whose invention vain;  
But that he cannot reach an higher strain.  
She that hath real worth, and sober thought  
Of it, must needs disdain the fancy brought,  
Upon pretence (forsooth) to make her more  
Admired; some think upon another score.  
Whereas blue envy could not have spit forth  
Venom that's more malignant to her worth.  
Enough amongst most to have this effect  
To make them real goodness to suspect.  
As drones do very much i fest the hive,  
Eat what by labour of the Bees would thrive.  
So, though these Humble-be●s devour, and bring  
Nothing; yet what is strange, they have their sting.  
What thinks, the wild fantastic ornament  
Of virtue, needs a flatterer to invent?  
Cannot she be with virtues ●ully stored,  
Unless made object fit to be adored?  
True honour strictly looks for this its due,  
That all its praises (if not great) be true.  
Is not beholding as a Popish Saint  
For glories, not to virtue, but the paint.  
Would he be credited? that cannot be,  
Unless she forfeit all sobriety.  
If not, he doth his folly but proclaim,  
And maketh it not hard to know his Name.  
Alas, (good Madam) be not too severe,  
To call him knave, or fool, and domineer  
Over his weakness; for desire to have  
Your love, doth make him in such fashiors rave  
From the first sight of you, some influence  
Hath quite bereft him of all sober sense.  
Do you not see in yonder secret grove,  
Him Courting the Idea of his Love?  
How one while he creeps poorly, proudly stalks  
As antic strait, stands silent now, then talks  
Unto himself in a low voice: see how  
He doth his honour in a Civil bow,  
Since he hath missed it in some point, he'll try  
Do it with much more curiosity,  
To please himself and ●●ncy: then accosts  
The shrub, where he can find no painted post,  
And to it speaks words in an humble mutter,  
More sweet than honey, and more soft than butter.  
What is it thus transports, dejects him too?  
It's fancy (Madam) which is type of you.  
He cons how Civilly he may address  
Into your presence, and with life express  
The passions of a lover, what will be  
Your answer? How to make a safe reply,  
And those odd postures which you so admire,  
Are but the strange fruit of that frantic fire  
You kind'ed in him: for you speak no word  
But what he treasures up, and doth afford  
Matter of thousand thoughts: with what a Grace  
You did oblige; What Majesty took plac:  
In your commands; how with your looks you read  
Lectures at once, to make him hope and dread;  
How sweet was such a smile corrected by  
Too harsh a Mistress your severity;  
How killing were your frowns: and thus in pain  
He's tossed with thoughts of favour, and disdain.  
He clasps the air contained you: not to look  
On your tract serveth him, unless he snook  
On saucy servant, when you do bestow  
Flap on the lips for talk, to make her know  
Her distance; wonders that she takes it ill,  
To be so dealt with: if she had his skill  
She would deserve more; he doth understand  
It no unpleasant kissing of your hand  
Would you not (Madam) bring him to despair?  
Then you must be more kind, or else less fair.  
Let pity move, wherelove will not, t'impart  
A smile, or sorrow soon will break his heart.  
And can you think your triumph glorious,  
If you destroy a Vassal-lover thus?  
How cruel, and hard-hearted need must you  
Appear to all the world, if it be true,  
That you would not be at small cost, and pains  
Of one good word, to keep him out of chains,  
And Bedlam? for some hink could he obtain,  
No doubt he would be his own man again.  
You may command his reason; for he's bent  
Not to be cured, unless you do consent.  
Your harmony will set him right, they say  
Thus of the man stung by Tarantula,  
That would to death dance, were he not cured by  
The virtue of harmonious melody.  
If you resolve to be wise, and to laugh  
At all his follies, are not catched with chaff  
Of vain pretences; if you think it true,  
When cured, he will revenge himself on you  
For all his folly past, and will not pause  
Upon his bondage base, but hate the cause.  
Yet let me beg one kindness, to advise  
The Gentleman, to let you be more wise:  
If he will not himself, then think it fit  
To entertain that love, which spoils his wit:  
And to condemn the incivility  
That wishes you may be as mad as he.  
The horrid Courtships that did pass between  
Nero, and Sporus his he-concubine.  
The Trumpeter, and Gracchus as they break  
Nature's chaste tye, so they forbid to speak  
Their shame; for nothing can be worse than thus,  
Unless the wedding of an Incubus.  
He truly doth deserve the term of wise,  
Whom no perfections outward do surprise,  
To make him forfeit; since they may adorn  
A shameless Messalina, and be a scorn  
To time, like flower fading, which doth last  
Small time, and at its prime is almost past  
Its glory; yet when withered quite, and gone,  
Gives hope of budding resurrection.  
But Beauty is a superficial thing,  
That, when by age decayed, knows no spring.  
What folly many men so far bewitches,  
To make them fond Court an heap of riches;  
And vainly wish, that they were blessed with such  
A faculty as Midas in his touch?  
And then be sure, they soon would change the mould  
Of their dear Dames, and turn them into Gold,  
That those whom they looked not upon to prise,  
But with disgust, might be lust of their eyes.  
How do they Court you Ladies? Is your faith  
So easy to what this, or that man saith?  
Can you believe, what their pretences vain  
Make show of? when they truly do but feign  
Love to your persons fair, and virtues: Money!  
O that that is their Dear; and that's the honey  
That may be help meet for them if they speed.  
That's double help, which is an help at need.  
And their estates in deep consumption call  
For present help, and the best cordial  
Aurum Potabile is, all agree,  
For weak estates not past recovery.  
Your Lands their Chemistry can soon dissolve  
Into some ready Cash; or else involve  
In deep encumbrances with your consent:  
Nor will their servile kindness quite be spent,  
Till all is gone; and then, however large  
Your portions were, you will be thought a charge.  
He that with vile submission did approach  
As humble Orator erewhile, did crouch  
And bend like any Willow, will revoke  
His kindness, and be stiff, as any Oak,  
To your requests, when he hath in his hands  
Your thousand pounds of portion, or your Lands.  
Now you are costly, now the man begins  
To grudge you money, but to buy you pins.  
And if more kind, yet what he doth, must be  
Reputed as an act of Charity.  
So by your soft belief, you'll soon be grown  
At his command, and beggars of your own.  
With silly easiness thus you contrive  
To give the loaf, and after beg the shive.  
Yet him, if covetous, you shall not stir,  
Although you come with I beseech you Sir.  
It may be, what less tolerable is  
He can the charge bear of a costly Miss.  
Nor is it rare to find these two agree,  
One paltry hard, and prodigally free.  
There are accomplishments of higher kind  
Such as do give a lustre to the mind,  
Are not less precious, though they latent are,  
Contribute much to make the person rare.  
A quiet frame of temper, and a meek  
Demeanour, which occasions still doth seek  
To please, and keep all calm; and modesty  
Not too adventurous, nor weakly shy,  
More than mere bashfulness, that blossoms cast,  
If once saluted by unwholesome blast.  
An holy temperance, which taketh place  
Of Nature in its strength, and is a Grace  
A prudent soul to comfort, counsel, prove  
Reproof may be an argument of love:  
Where through a waspish, and weak rage are bred  
No words so hard to break her husband's head,  
But soft as oil; and if the oil be warm,  
It may do much good; but if scalding, harm.  
And her discretion understands the art  
To dress the wound, and yet prevent the smart.  
Rome's triple-headed Cerberus, so fell  
Against a married li●e doth loudly yell,  
With resolution never to dispense  
With state so well befitting innocence,  
In any of his Clergy: yet these Masters,  
Or Fathers rather, are but Demicasters'  
Of Chastity: but read you some Pope's lives,  
You'll find it safer to keep Whores, than Wives.  
This chaste Divinity (long since foretold  
The Devil's Doctrine) is not grown so old,  
But it can yield a Nephew now, and then  
The bastards of the Romish Archflamen.  
It is mysterious that one should be  
His Holiness, and yet want honesty.  
Pope Joan is wonder stranger than the other,  
An Holy Father, and dishonest Mother.  
Thus Cretan Town-Bull in the Fable odd  
Boar Bacchus in his thigh, was feigned a god.  
Tom Dove the traveller will tell you news.  
What's that? at Rome the Pope admits of Stews,  
Some hundreds of foul Bawdy-houses. How?  
Such places can his Sanctity allow?  
What else, when they their annual rents disburse,  
And only do their penance to his purse?  
The man of Miracles beyond his strain  
Of skill must stretch, to make this honest gain.  
Are women by his Highness here below,  
Taken to be no higher than his Toe?  
Great Toe indeed! Would it disgrace his pride  
If women were advanced to his side  
In Matrimony? without charge of Trope  
Adam we call much greater than the Pope;  
Whose Holiness with baseness taxed hath been,  
And to be perfect is not such a sin.  
What though he pleads Infallibility,  
That when set in the Chair he cannot lie?  
He lies in that, or else pretence must go  
For quibble good sensu Composito.  
So Merchant brought to very hard condition,  
Pays off his debts by broken Composition.  
We say for Adam thus with reason good,  
That then he could not fall, just when he stood.  
By the Pope's Holiness we safely mean  
With mental reservation what is clean (contrary.)  
I would not have Eve plead her nobler birth,  
Sith she was made of man, and man of earth.  
Nor (as from bodies Politic is bred)  
Argue that she sprang from him as an head;  
That she may rule, a stranger Title bring,  
His Mother was a Subject, hers a King;  
Nor have her daughters to press instance, since  
Xerxes of old that was the Persian Prince,  
Because his Brother to a private man  
Was born, he to the same as Sovereign.  
Nor would I have them due subjection call  
Forbidden bowing of the knee to Baal:  
Since that in Paradise the social state  
Did stand with reason of subordinate.  
There's no pretence to say, that God did give  
To male, and female, power alternative.  
Profanely think not, that to work his bane,  
God did create the woman for the man:  
That the wise, just, good, Orderer of all  
Made her an help meet, but to cause his fall:  
That man himself had never fallen so low  
Without her, since the Word tells us not so.  
Contemn her not, that was since man, but rather  
Consider, who was Mother to the Father  
Eternal: she was from the man her Brother,  
Of the same Father, grant that he, as Mother,  
Had such a Daughter, what else do we find  
But him to bear the praise of womankind?  
Blush then to urge that pitiful pretence,  
A crooked, cross-grained piece of innocence.  
Since she was ta'en out of his side, that he  
Hath been stitched by an irksome Pleurisy.  
By such little conceits play not with wit,  
Lest that it chance thereby thou forfeit it,  
And fall to cry out with a Gotham-brother,  
That thou art troubled with fits of the Mother.  
Why may it not be likely? to say true,  
Toy wit is ill of the Green-sickness too.  
Her, whom thou ought'st to pity, cease to call  
Dam of damnation in the dreadful fall,  
The woe of man, the ever cursed Eve  
To all the black days of our saddest grief.  
'Tis true, she did procure the fall of men:  
The woman's seed doth raise us up again.  
Some are elaborate, and mighty pains  
Take needlessly, to show that they want brains.  
This is the most they bring from learned Schools:  
With reason they can act ingenious fools,  
And argue stiffly: Eve was kept alive,  
Her native reason only to survive:  
That it is lawful, in the Logic tree,  
Man should have one side, and the other she,  
As 'tis in Eden pictured. Did the men  
Impropriate all Wisdom: surely then  
Children half-witted are; yet will they call  
Their Mother's fools, for fear lest naturals  
They should be thought; when they that are most fit  
To be thought fools, do want their Mother-wit.  
The Pagans were more humane far than these,  
Of famed Ladies that made Goddesses,  
Would have three Graces female, and did feign  
The wise Minerva sprang out of Jove's brain.  
Invoke no more the Muses: none will side  
With thee, to mother thy foul Matricide  
In wronging of this S●x; make haste, and run:  
Timon may chance t' adopt thee for his son;  
For sweetness of thy Nature, thou mayst be  
Made to inherit his humanity.  
Thy slender wit true wisdom ne'er begat,  
No learned School will it Matriculate,  
If it be Alma-mater. Learn again  
What petty Scholar means by Epicene,  
Or fall out with haec Homo (if you can)  
To save the head of Mr. Priscian.  
Correct you lily's candour, that doth render?  
Dux, Praesul, Pugil in the Common-gender.  
Were women all (Leaena-like) among  
Grateful Athenians without a tongue,  
That chose to be adored, for being Mutes,  
They justly might be pictured as Brutes,  
As she was, for her praise. Debasing thought  
Of their discourse, though sober, solid brought  
Reproach that they are wordy, if they go  
Beyond the narrow bounds of I, and No.  
The want of learned rules, their misery  
Is called their fault, and great infirmity  
Of Nature. Had their fit endowments been  
Favoured by men, as Nature, we had seen  
Scholars divided into Sexes, and  
Some Females challenging the better hand  
Of them for wit, that do vouchsafe to call  
Them creatures but made up of tedious brawl,  
And empty noise; with fury (when they die)  
In Vulcan's quiet anvil choose to lie,  
For fear of clamour; lest their Oratory  
Should vex them in that silent Dormitory.  
Some such wise Rabbis surely did invent,  
That on a time the bounteous Heavens sent  
Ten quarts of Speech into the world, and men  
Got to their share but one poor part of ten:  
Women the rest. If that the case were thus,  
They cannot but be thought too gluttonous,  
To take nine cabs of prattle, when a quart  
Is not scarce half enough to make a part  
For the good men, that lavishly estate  
Spend in good fellowship, and endless prate.  
Gownmen are not all speechless, nor the Hall  
Of Justice freed from their litigious brawl.  
Had it been so: then the loud wranglers had  
For all their joyful Hilaries been sad.  
That Ens of reason Sophomore not able  
Had been to make a tedious empty squabble  
About some Logic nicety, nor sp●nt  
So many hours in eager battlement  
With strange Chimaera. Then what should the men  
Have done, that are stout Champions at the pen;  
Whose worthy parts must not be sized by  
The Childish seventeens, but seventy;  
Whose skulls are so well futured, that not any  
Air can offend them through the smallest cranny  
To make them vain; yet fight Antagonists  
With railing Rhetoric to save their fists.  
Their mighty reason scarce presents a For,  
But such as drops from the Posterior,  
Scornful disdain. The dealing is not square  
That men should be advanced to the Chair,  
And women not such Scolds by far to rule  
Their lavish tongues presented to the stool.  
Women have got no privilege to write  
Books stuffed with slander, base contempt and spite,  
Which purged of their choler might be meet  
As skeletons bare for a winding-sheet.  
Although their words are spiteful, keen men can  
Yet get them reckoned as Patrician  
Sobriety: so well have some men sped  
To have their malice meekness Christened.  
Bragged of tame tempers: such tame creatures be  
Safely presented through a grate to see:  
On sweetness of their temper true Comment  
Is Pius, Clement, Urbane, Innocent.  
The privacy of women's narrow sphere  
Domestic, makes their virtue less appear.  
Wa●ing occasion their parts buried lie  
In the dark vault of base obscurity,  
That have not only unconquered charms  
Of winning beauty, but affrighting arms.  
It therefore is unhappiness of state  
So much embases word effeminate,  
And keeps their spirits under: Had they ways  
And opportunities to get them praise:  
Were they inur'd to hardships, they'd outvie  
Those that do hold estates in Chivalry:  
Or have done brave Knights-service, and afford  
More gallantry than those that were adored.  
Though mention of their due praise envy call  
A Tattle more than Hyper-prodigal,  
And the surmise of feats that might be done  
In arms by them, an idle Fiction:  
For what they have achieved nobly, fame  
Will ever stand indebted to their Name.  
And if they do not sue the jangling Lass,  
It is because amongst them she doth pass  
Not worthy of regards, too base to be  
Sought unto by their true Nobility.  
Yet famous men have Courted much her honour,  
Of fawning titles cast whole leads upon her,  
Were humble suitors they might be among  
Those, who had interest in her idle tongue,  
Promising they would be her Champions bold  
To do great feats: but only to be told.  
When slattering fame commended did not cry  
Out with this womanish Loquacity,  
Let her be packed out of the way, and go  
Seek place in Psittacorum R●gio.  
Amongst the Vegetables, nobler trees  
Fruitless have been, we read, without their she's:  
So on the Erythraean barks, for wa●t  
Of other dwellers, noble Palms do plant  
And grow in couples; showing that th' entail  
Of Honour runs not to the issue male  
In special; he would have a barren root,  
But that the generous female bears the fruit.  
It's reasonable women have as well  
The pra●se, as they have power to excel.  
They that deny them honour, must profess,  
And likewise seem to prove their worth is less.  
Would they attempt it, they'd desire no more  
To make them see their Heresy before;  
And show them that a Volume should be spent,  
And not a single Sheet when they repent.  
Are faults and blemishes in them so thin  
Scattered, that works of God must be clapped in  
To make crimes more: that his works are so large  
To them, is full enough to ground a charge  
Against them; whereas had he but less spent  
On them, they had been judged innocent.  
Since their great beauties to some become snares;  
Fault (Tarbox) strait must be concluded theirs.  
If this be Logic, let us borrow tools  
From Craftsmen of the Chair to make us fools,  
Condemn the light, because some over-wise  
By staring at it chance to hurt their eyes.  
We'll strain our fancies, and conceits to think  
Aqua Coelestis, which the Stars do drink  
Too liberally, makes them to blink, and keep  
Their heavy eyes scarce open for want of sleep.  
Darken the lustre of those radiant lights,  
That we may favour weakness of our sights.  
If in the women's feature crime be known,  
The fault of right should not be called their own:  
This noble fabrics beauty must reflect  
Upon the goodness of the Architect,  
That made the work so rare, as to entice  
To folly curious spectators eyes.  
Good form by wise men hath been made to go  
For that, which is Dignum Imperio,  
Teaching in outward features how to find  
A correspondent beauty in the mind.  
Let them smart under censures, that delight  
To walk, in habits like Hermaphrodite;  
That by their manlike looks, garbs, fashions rare,  
Make it a question of what Sex they are;  
Debasing thus Viragoes nobler sense,  
And making it to hide their impudence.  
May they be hateful to all modest sights,  
That turn into almost half Adamites,  
Whose visage must not Natures power express,  
But their pride, and affected wickedness;  
Despising nature of their sex they call  
A meal-mouth'd-modesty, base, rustical.  
Talk what the ears of wantonest might load  
To make their wanton tongues too Alamode.  
May those sly cheats (that modesty do own  
For nought, but base immodest ends) be known:  
Who baiting with a pretty sober look,  
Make the young fool to swallow down the hook.  
In men and women when the fault is same,  
How cometh it to pass they share not blame  
By equal moieties? In men a Beam  
Is called a Mote; a Mote, a Beam in them.  
Upon what ground taketh the saying place?  
This fault is bad in man, in woman base.  
Shall we thus aggravate? they've wisdom more:  
But very few will charge them on that score.  
Precedence by none will be granted in  
Knowledge, although it were to lessen sin.  
Is it their inclination less to vice  
At first unto the scandal that gave rise?  
They that to wickedness are less inclined  
Must be acknowledged to have purer mind,  
Which makes spots more conspicuous: oftentimes  
Better the persons are, the fouler crimes  
Appear in them. Deformities are not  
Observed in darker bodies; when each spot  
Shows itself in the brighter; thus we soon  
Espy the spots, that do obscure the Moon.  
So Authors Venus mole do Memorise,  
So lest pearl blemisheth the brightest eyes.  
If this will not be granted, all must say,  
That men in somethings, and in others they,  
Plead excellence. Let guilt, as equal then  
Be charged upon the women, as the men.  
Yet women, knowing freedom doth not lie  
In what is but licentious liberty,  
Are well content with honour of their state,  
That doth their crimes so highly aggravate.  
Hath Britain suffered any prejudice,  
By being called women's Paradise,  
Giving them thirds, the highest seats, and wall  
So Civilly, with so great share of all  
Their husband's lands? This they return again,  
Their freeborn children make the bravest men.  
They cannot have their souls scarce half so brave  
Where Father is a Tyrant, Mother Slave.  
In vain Italian women are kept fast  
By Husband's Jaylorship to make them chaste.  
How many vexed, and tempted by the thought  
Of Jealous-pated-men have been made naught?  
Thinking disloyalty would nothing cost  
More than what had been quite already lost  
In his esteem: setting more vainly by  
A good repute, than real honesty.  
Security for virtue, if undone  
By wrongful, and but bare suspicion,  
Is small; if what the Husband doth invent,  
Is cause enough for Wife's imprisonment.  
On as good ground the poor might be bereft  
Of all their liberty for fear of theft.  
Here by Lucretian chastity might fall  
Under the black rod of foul Criminal;  
That cannot testimony give confined,  
Before the fact, to honesty of mind.  
The felons prison, shackles, bolts impart  
What is according to the men's desert;  
It's not enough against him to allege,  
By witness, that he looked o'er the hedge▪  
In Goal, when he is laid, we make no doubt,  
But as he stole in, so he would steal out.  
These Dames for nothing else, but being Wives,  
Are made the closest prisoners for lives,  
Never but in the Husband's death to see,  
Or their own death, a Goal-delivery.  
Barbarian X●●ifs-concubines, escape,  
'Tis said, if they but see a man, a rape;  
Before their count begins they must cry out,  
For what? to bring their honesty in doubt,  
Rather than shield it. He who them espies  
By chance, is not beholding to his eyes:  
Whose case▪ (Actaeon-like) presents strange kind  
Of misery, which is not to be blind.  
Proud Masters think their rule entrenched on,  
If the good Wives their reasons dare to own.  
When they make question whether musty Must  
Of cankered spirits should be born as Just,  
Or with due reverence beseech, and pray,  
They may not be exposed as fools in play.  
This boldness makes the sottish soul invent  
A plot, and wish an Act of Parliament,  
That each man in his house may rule, and be  
Invested with a full authority  
To domineer, command, control, make Laws  
Void of all reason; but a proud because.  
Scripture without a Word of God they bring  
To justify their tyranny. The King  
A●a●●erus cited is: the Queen  
Vasthi arraigned, as grossly overseen,  
That would not show herself; make Majesty,  
She did partake of with the King, to be  
As picture showed to subjects; and moreover  
In this command they think the King was sober:  
That a decree so necessary was  
Fit to be made a Monument in brass.  
I leave them with Memucan to prevent  
Imperiousness, the woman never meant,  
And to sue out the formallest decree  
Against what never was, will never be.  
The thing called Matrimony thus beguiles,  
And makes a John a Nokes, a John a Styles,  
To swell with mighty titles: for his Cur-ship  
To his proud hasty humours pleads for worship,  
With prayers, tears, she our John may not assault,  
When dubbed Sr. Walter Walter Knight of Malt.  
Sarah called Abraham Lord; his Wife must do  
So to his honour, he'll be Baron too.  
If she thinks, all her livelihood too much is  
To be exposed to his greedy clutches,  
Since he reels all away, that she can spin,  
Spends faster than hard labour can bring in:  
Her chests, and coffers, boxes strait he breaks  
Open, to show his Licence to play Rex.  
If Caj●tanes vote carry, he may hope  
To be elected as Donestick Pope;  
That, sith the woman's head is man, doth call  
His power by title that is Mystical,  
Hard to be understood: what doth infer  
As Mystick something, that he's Mystic Sir.  
The toiling Wife may give herself the case,  
And judge it fit that Peter keep the keys  
In his power o'er her, children, servants see  
Mark of the Beast a Triple● Sovereignty,  
And be forbidden ever for to own  
That she believes the story of Pope Joan.  
If he do tyrannize, and reason fail  
For what he doth, he puts on Coat of Male,  
Pleads he's an husband: so right, or behoof,  
Or promise shall not pierce him: this is Proof.  
If Layship cannot well absolve the man,  
Nor give indulgence, Mystic Headship can.  
This speckled creature, without charge of pelf,  
May do wrong, give a pardon to himself.  
We need no ancient Histories to tell us,  
That meaner sort of Dames may grow good fellows,  
Follow the trade of Gossip; they can  
Toss jovially their pots like any man:  
If the poor Gaffer have weak jacks, their wills  
May not be served without their lustier Gills;  
Whose spirits make them keep most woeful rackets  
It may be fall hard on their husband's jackets  
If so Viraginous, that must allow  
What such Wives say, or do; cannot tell how  
To help it; scarce may think that expense sad,  
Which beggars families, and makes them mad.  
For me, Xantippe ne'er shall be too old,  
To bear the stigma of an odious scold.  
As punishment just let her always be  
Under the tongue-strappado Raillery.  
Yet this may sober Civil women vex,  
That faults, not general, upon the sex  
Are cast. What made Philosopher to load us  
With silly p●ssinus habendi Modus?  
Was there no matter for the wise to write  
Upon, but women's eager appetite  
To men? by slender matter first begot  
To serve, they say themselves, they know not what;  
The most for which this poor conceit can bid,  
Is little something called Nescio quid.  
What means unkind Dilemma, that says women  
If beautiful, must therefore needs be common?  
Such base Dilemmas always in dispute  
Deserve to bear the Odium of Cornute.  
Leave off your tyranny, you peevish elves,  
Whilst you do harm your Wives, you wrong yourselves.  
Making their grieving hearts through eyes express,  
What tongues would not, the great unhappiness  
Not to be suffered, that they are brought to,  
Endeavouring most vainly to please you.  
What can you swagger, storm at, and confine  
Them wrongfully, and call it Masculine  
Thus to insult? It is but foolish mind,  
Seeks to advance the Sex, debase the kind.  
Is't mercy to thy family to make  
Subsistence of Wife, Children lie at stake,  
And run a sad adventure; when they All  
Must be exposed by a doubtful fall,  
And but uncertain cast at Dice? wherein  
She suffers much, although thou chance to win.  
But (if some unexpected hap do cross  
Thy greedy aims) she must sit down with loss.  
When all is cast away, may she not gain  
The liberty of losers to complain?  
Canst thou think to run through all in thy sport,  
And not endure thou shouldst be blamed for't?  
Or make it run through thee by drunken fit,  
And yet not suffer her to grieve for it?  

Women-Worthies.  
Example's crowd upon us, lest the flaws  
Of some irregulars should wrong their cause,  
The innocence of others blemish, and the blame  
Of envy should be charged, i'll further name  
Out of those many, thought to equal best  
Of men, some few, that did outshine the rest.  
Since the great Amazonian Ladies seats  
Are mentioned by good Authors, and their feats  
Of War, successes, progress, and the Dates  
Of these related with Confederates,  
Their government, declensions, and last Queen,  
But to suppose they have not been, is spleen  
In them, in questioning that make us know,  
They are ashamed much that it should be so.  
The greatness of the things they did achieve,  
Puts the world so much to it to believe.  
Others do talk at a prodigious rate,  
And that which noble was, call desperate.  
As though their valour in first gallant fight  
Were to be thought a better sort of flight.  
Were we disposed this reason to allow  
As likely, possibly who could tell how  
To vindicate great Warriors; for men,  
When desperate, fight their way back again.  
In dangers vilest Recreants are made stout  
Only to make way to creep poorly out.  
But they consult not safety to make peace,  
Which soon might have been done; since cause did cease▪  
For their exile, and sufferings: but go on,  
Leaving their names to fame Thermodoon.  
Revenge was not the main cause; for that lamp  
When flash is over, soon is quenched by damp  
Of fear. Their courage in the proof was clear,  
If not from wild-fire-rashness, yet from fear.  
Not a few ages puts this out of doubt,  
Wherein their valour through defeats held out.  
Many Commanders courage did commence  
Famous, at the Acts of Experience,  
That need not be ashamed to confess,  
They owed almost all unto success:  
Or yield they have derived their famous spirit  
From Ancestors success, which they inherit.  
Successes caused not valour, but from hence,  
Their native courage, sprang experience.  
Their Mother's victories, got in late fight,  
They could not look upon as their own right.  
Or sith their husbands prospered in Deed  
Of arms, think therefore they must need succeed.  
Had success only raised their spirits, than  
Some few defeats had beaten down again.  
They that are bred under the tyranny  
Of long, and hard oppression, will be shy  
To own their Native-freedom, have no thought  
Higher, than to do what they have been taught:  
In time are brought to this degenerate sense  
To think their reason piece of Impudence.  
They have Heroic Spirits, truly great,  
Whose mettle loseth little by defeat.  
If overpowered by force, yet can maintain  
Their minds so high, that Victors scarce shall gain.  
Thus may we find the valiant Amazon,  
Conquered, and conquering, to seem all one.  
Not that subjection, since first sin began,  
Adjudged a curse of woman unto man;  
Not weakness of her sex, made weaker by  
Her liberty to rule but Infantry;  
Not banishment from friends, and native spoil,  
Not murder of her husband; not her spoil;  
Not inexperience in war that can  
Daunt courage of the Amazonian.  
These in their first engagement bravely know  
The way to fight, and how to overthrow,  
Turning the Distaff into Lance: the Wheel  
They cast away; get Gorgets made of steel,  
Having their minds most stout (as bows were) bent  
To make a strange unheard Experiment.  
Whether their nature, or condition brought  
Them to subjection, and so dreadful thought  
Of wars; when they assault the enemy  
Think it securest way for life to fly  
Not in a Compliment; but forced give place,  
As if the Asian bounds were but a Chase,  
Where they do follow pleasant warlike sport,  
And each one carries in her heart a fort.  
All other forts they leave, and Champion  
By them is fittest to be trod upon.  
By providence they seem to have a Charter  
To rule o'er men. The strongest spirit of Tartar,  
Was weak to theirs. Now we read of a Quarum.  
To put in Maps Insulam foeminarum  
Is no great courtesy. It seems they meant  
To prove the world but narrow Continent  
To their desires. Maragnon banks do pay  
Honour to their Names in America.  
And the supposed head of Nile will dare  
To challenge that they once were seated there.  
Euxine looks black at that, supposing thanks  
For them, was chiefly due unto his banks.  
Where ere they came they made Crowns use another  
Phrase; and great Kingdom to obey their Mother.  

Of Menalippe.  
GReat Hercules for ever famous is  
For all his labours, and not less for this  
With Menalippe that engaged to fight,  
Who could not be matched but by such a Knight.  
The Victory with hardship she let go  
At last, and glad was he he go it so,  
Not by pure valour; then my Author lies,  
That gives the greatest part unto surprise.  
If most renowned of the Greeks comes here  
As chapmen, she will sell them conquest dear.  
The Conquerors by Chariot that lead  
Their Vassal-Kings might be thus vanquished  
With honour too: 'tis credit more by some  
To get a foil, than elsewhere overcome.   

Of Penthesile.  
PEnthesile brought (with a kind intent  
Of helping Priam) her Maid-Regiment  
As some affirm, and had she sooner come,  
Despairing Greeks with shame had ridden home  
On Wooden Horse. They now that dare to tax  
Troy's folly, yet do dread the Battle-ax,  
Which she invented: heart was fully tried  
Of great Achilles' Son before she died.  
Such brave Viragoes not by smother words  
Of Compliments, were overcome, but Swords.  
The gallant Grecian yonkers, that did Court,  
Before they won their love, fought stoutly for't.   

Of Artemisia.  
HAlicarnassus Queen herself did show  
Fit to command the Archipelago.  
While Persians stand at gaze, the Grecians are  
Forced to make way for more than Men of War,  
Which she conducted; as though she would glory,  
And make the Sea part of her Territory.  
The Persian-Carpet-Knights with courage cold  
Run, to secure themselves, into the Hold:  
Giving Achaians leave to understand,  
Ships overcharged with such, were poorly man'd.  
The ink may blush, and Scribes, that are to write  
At her stout heart of Oak, their wings for flight.  
Xerxes' spectator is ashamed to see  
The Queen's top, and top-gallant-gallantry.  
More are the Greeks enraged, that overcome,  
And scarce can carry- half the honour home.  
Her most renowned Mausoleum could not be  
For braveness half such wonder as was she.  
What was for honour of her husband meant  
Of her great praise is made the Monument.   

Of Zenobia.  
WE'll boast Zenobia in triumph led,  
Yet by Aurelian not conquered.  
Not having life; nor begging piteously,  
To live not blushing, nor ashamed to die;  
For when her army's broken and command,  
She more undaunted, than the Victor stands:  
Though outward splendour must be left behind,  
She will reserve the greatness of her mind.   

Of the Queen of Sheba.  
ARabia the Happy boasts of her,  
That by her wisdom made it happier;  
And from Saboean-land did come upon  
Errand, of proving wisest Solomon  
With questions hard, she questionless gave much  
Assurance, that she was another such.  
The greatest Warriors were proved, we see,  
By women in the feats of Chivalry.  
The wisest mere man in the Holy Writ  
Is said to be tried by a woman's wit.  
With men in noblest exploits they'll compare,  
That in the wonders of the world had share.  
Are they so equal? We may therefore render  
Acts, that are glorious, in the Doubtful Gender.   

Of Deborah.  
WHen oppressed Israel did sadly moan  
Under their losses, which they might not own:  
When government was needful to appease  
Those, who in restlessness take greatest ease:  
When by what Laws command, and Rulers say  
People take pattern how to disobey:  
When Malefactors need make no defence  
For their outrages, but more violence:  
Then Deborah is raised; for none so free  
From fear, so wise, so stout, so good as she.  
Here Widows, Orphans, strangers freely might  
Have their cause pleaded, and receive their right  
Assoon as richest; for she knew right well  
How to give Judgement; but had none to sell.  
No tedious demu●rers here; no witty  
Cobweb-exceptions, Courts of foolish pity.  
For Chancery, no argument she draws  
From Topick of the person, but the cause.  
They that stood by her could not but invoke  
God, when they heard the Oracles she spoke.  
Nay bifront Ja●us could not put a face  
Upon't, if there to deny her the place.  
Barak gives her right hand, is glad to be  
Beholding for his branch to her Palmtree.  
She gave first blow in the attempt, and lead  
The host, and Jacl knocked nail to the head.   

Of Esther.  
THe proud Amalekite fate daily at  
His Pur Pur, like a Melancholy Cat,  
Blood●mad and rageful that strait at his call  
The lucky lot did not prepare to fall.  
Since Mord●cai to bow refused, he  
Seeks by Jews downfall to revenged be.  
Thirst of his malice cannot be by blood  
Of one man quenched, he can drink a flood  
Of tears and go●e: therefore Esther adventures  
Though with the hazard of her life, and enters  
Into the presence against Law: the Queen  
Redeems lives that were purchased for his spleen.  
Since he's not tall enough, doth still aspire,  
●he will advance him forty cubits higher.  
Haman will not be a man, yet his fate  
With twist doth take away the aspirate.  
Thus under God the Feast of Purim may  
Be ●eckon'd as the Jewish Esther day.   

Of Judith.  
WHat to distressed, despairing, Israel was  
Too much to think; Judith doth bring to pass.  
Proud Holofernes thought his words so stout,  
Enough among the Jews to make a rout.  
Wishing them heart to make resistance great  
To heighten his courage, and their defeat  
To aggravate, she silenceth those boasts,  
And at two blows, stoutly beheads an host.  
No petty Forts assails, but chief of all,  
Their main strength, and soon takes the Capitol.  
When to Bethulia she returns, and calls,  
There strait arise some statues on the walls.  
So great amazing joy in every one  
Made them seem part of th' wall turned into stone.  
So once Medusa's beauty left no vigour  
Of men to the beholders, but a Figure.  
She feared not living Monster, some do doubt  
From the fierce head lest body should grow out  
As heads of Hydra from the body; seeing  
Dead Tyrant them she scarce can keep from flying.  
Bago's with shame doth find his Master dead,  
And proves a trusty keeper of his head.  
Assyrian camp in great confusion stands.  
They that want head, have little use of hands.  
Women in triumph walk that day like host,  
And they have greatest right to rule the roast.  
Judith led Van, and she the Olive bore  
The other branches as the Dove before.   

Of Queen Elizabeth.  
WOnder of women, and of Queens, the breath  
Of England's glory, was Elizabeth.  
That quenched bonfires, which loud did proclaim  
The Popish cruelty with tongues of flame.  
To Protestants when she brought liberty  
The Friar-bacons' in their grease did fry.  
That she deceived their wicked art, and fell  
Not within power of their Magic spell,  
And Romish Bats afraid of Gospel Light,  
As much ashamed, pull out their eyes for spite.  
They to their private Masses run, one reads  
He knows not what, yet stiffly plies his beads,  
Says what he mindeth not; but makes a patter  
When he poor soul knows nothing of the matter.  
By Delver now are English Bibles found,  
And brought to light, that were hid under ground.  
Now are the clouds dispelled of that dark night,  
Wherein the Word must not be brought to light.  
From bondage Protestants are brought, before  
They did lie under, promise have of more.  
The Pope grows horn-mad, he will disannul  
All by (like wicked Holiness) a Bull.  
Spain (as most dutiful) the office bore  
To be accounted best Son of the Whore,  
And did appear with stout Rodomontado  
A sudden, great, invincible Armado:  
Close linked together: but the powe'rful One  
Designed to break them by their Union.  
The winds do blow till they are out of breath,  
The seas are troubled threatening their death  
That crossed them, and with proud intent durst come  
Of joining Narrow Seas to Sea of Rome.  
By envying command in them they gain  
This fort, she will be Lady of the Main.  
Their intercepted, laden, ships amount  
To their fear, loss, shame, and to her account.  
Denmarkian name was not a little bound  
To her for riches, glory of its Sound.  
Through her sincerity Batavian,  
When others lose by foreign aids, did gain.  
This was rare instance, for no o●her end,  
To help distressed, but them to befriend:  
When we are taught in Machiavellian School,  
First give assistance, after take the rule.  
French Protestant's the bounteous God do bless  
With seasonable succours, and success.  
No more ingrate, than miserable they,  
First disoblige her, then become a prey.  
Merchants, that Convoys slight, to Piracies  
Become an easier, and so richer prize:  
So silly sheep, when once the Shepherd's gone,  
By lurking Wolf's may soon be fed upon.  
When 'tis too late they know to be more wise,  
And learn the treacherous Leaguers cruel Gu●se.  
The foreign Lands, that bosoms had, have been  
Most joyful there to lay our Merchants in:  
That making their discoveries, did pass  
Through dreadful Lands of Ice, and S●as of Glass,  
And what is strange scarce suffered Terra  
Australis to remain In●ognita.  
Of Navigation in each point did try  
To make a perfect Encyclopedye.   

Of Mary Magdalen.  
OUr Saviour hath foretold, the lungs of fame  
Should still indebted be to Ma●ies name;  
That mirror of God's mercy, once possessed  
By many evil spirits, made a blessed  
House for the Holy Ghost. The blackest night  
Of sinful state turned into glorious light.  
Do not upbraid her that her crimes were such:  
All was forgiven, and she loved much.  
The costly Spicknard which she poured forth  
Upon his head, did not come near the worth  
Of her great love. To those, who grudged there  
At needless waste, Christ was not half so dear.  
This humble handmaid judged it most meet  
To sit, as a Disciple, at his feet,  
And gather up the precious words, that fell  
From the mouth of Rabbi Immanuel.  
His feet she baths in fountain of her eyes,  
Them with the flaxen of her hairs she dries.  
Her sober sadness he blasphemes that jeers,  
From her derives the cheat of Maudlin-tears.  
And she as holy women did supply  
With purse the humbled Alsufficiency.  
And follows him at last, with drowned eyes  
And broken heart, beholds him as he dies;  
Who at his death, and after was most dear,  
His last care first appearance makes appear●  
Venus a female Planet so doth run  
Her course, to wait upon the setting Sun;  
And she again gives notice by her bright  
Rays, of the coming of the Monarch light.   

Of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  
FEmales the holy Virgin did advance,  
In bringing forth the world's deliverance,  
The blessed Child, of whom its only said,  
Because he could not lie, not credited;  
Whose innocence, works, Miracles and all  
Made him esteemed a greater Criminal;  
Whose hottest service, and souls anguish great,  
We read in Rubric of a bloody sweat;  
More deep concerns for man, than those that rise,  
And freely spout out of the blood-shot-eyes;  
Whose sufferings ineffable impart,  
Through pierced side, view of a weeping heart;  
Who tasted bitter sour, that we might meet  
In greatest troubles, but with bitter sweet.  
Methinks at the report of thy Child's fame,  
I see world's wonders wonder, and to blame  
Their builders proud, and costly folly, which  
When he was made so poor, would make them rich.  
When Luminary of the day draws near,  
The lesser lights cannot for shame appear.  
So greatest Wonders at his coming fall,  
Own him as Wonder greater much than all.  
The stately Pyramids, the Memphian pride,  
〈…〉 abashed seek to hide,  
〈…〉 of sight and mind; for shame  
〈…〉 blusheth into flame.  
〈…〉 Pigmy seems to be,  
〈…〉 him that is Immensity.  
Egyptian Pha●os would officiously  
Hold candle to this Wonder passing by:  
But that poor watch-light nothing could confer,  
To help the brightness of the Morning Star.  
Olympic Jupiter like Statue stands,  
For empty show, with eyes, ears, mouth and hands.  
In thee was Masterpiece of Heaven aid;  
Most curious work that ever Heaven made.  
Had there gone out tax on the wit of all  
Men on this Globe, wisdom Angelica●,  
They could have carved with curiosity,  
But better shaped piece for Idolatry.  
The Father hath expressed his Image on  
Pure Virgin-wax, and ta'en to Union  
With God the second Person; hence our true  
Service, and adoration are due.  
The Carian boast Mausoleum dare not call  
For any Rights, but silent burial  
In rubbish; for its greatest pride can go  
For nothing more than Worm's Seraglio.  
Much greater wonder is the Virgin Tomb,  
Where never man was laid before. The womb  
That bore him is more glorious; when the ●right  
Sun for nine m●ne●hs in Virgo lodg'd h●s light.  
The strong, and stately 〈…〉  
Compared to him ●s no defence at all.  
He's wa●, much stronger than one made of st●●e,  
Or brass, impregnable salvation.  
To take the height of which, requires much rather  
Than a poor jacob's Staff, a jacob's 〈◊〉.    

The Character of an Accomplished and Virtuous Woman.  
THy mind is happy, being seat of wit,  
More happy since discretion governs it:  
The former is the pretty fable, this  
Discretion grave the useful Moral is.  
As there irrationals do speak what suits  
With solid reason, that men turn not brutes:  
So here child's taught the riddles to unfold  
Of gravity, a stripling to grow old.  
It stains not freshness of thy youth to have,  
And to deserve the Epithet of grave,  
Hated by them, whose bodies now grown cold,  
Make them in all respects, but prudence, old:  
But much concerns thee, time runs on so fast  
With winged feet, and thou no better haste  
Canst make in judgement, that thy tender age  
By Antedate of prudence may be sage.  
Leavest them to blush at their idle fears,  
That reckon it as Interest in their years,  
To seem discreet, but yielding viler rate  
To Ladies, that are worn quite out of Date.  
Thou think'st not gravity doth then look best,  
Exposed when to laughter in a jest,  
Or that becoming wit, which doth afford  
To make the author of it more absurd.  
Thou seekest with grandam-virtues to adorn  
Thyself, when youthful vanities are worn  
By persons much more aged, to yield strong  
Presumption to the world that they are young:  
That seem to reckon it as an excess  
Either to practise virtue or profess:  
Admit into their Ethics modesty  
Apocopeed, without a Civil tye:  
Serving all wanton modes: thus peevish wag  
Spoileth the lace by pulling off the Ta●.  
Those, that in too great freedom draw not near  
Occasions foul, are judged too severe:  
As though plain Modesty deserved no thanks,  
Careful, how it approaches nigh the banks  
Of foulest baseness: their presumption thinks,  
It's want of resolution fears the brinks.  
A vulgar unapproved innocence  
Deserving not at all Heroic sense.  
They'll have you think, if you have faith enough,  
They're innocent as child new born, although  
They tempt the wanton Reveller to try  
What guard is kept upon their honesty.  
Strength of thy resolution is belied,  
If it be thought to be less fortified  
Because of caution: rather might it tell,  
Against wild storms it is impregnable.  
If any, in repute grown outlawed, comes,  
Assaults with levity, and beats the drums  
Of thy chaste ears, he finds there is no charm  
To win thy heart, but make thy virtues arm,  
Vileness of his attempts exposed lie  
Set out in colours of Vermilion-dye.  
That he may see his rudeness, take the shame,  
Thou lendest the Taper of thy modest flame.  
When exhalations thick the air do muddy,  
So the bright Ruler of the morn looks ruddy.  
If highness to debase upon the stage,  
And folly mask with an abstemious rage;  
If to feed corrupt fancy with the veins  
Of levity in some Romantic strains;  
If lofty traversing must be alone  
Accounted gallant education;  
Thou wilt take up with grave, and ancient sort  
Of b●eeding, and not be less nobler for't.  
The Lillyes candour, and the blushing Rose,  
A temper neither frolic, nor moiose,  
Pleasantness mixed well with gravity,  
A grace deportment, matron-like, and free;  
The sweetest condescension, not abject,  
Or sordid to command, and to affect  
Obliging carriage, which admired makes  
Rather than feared, as it was it takes,  
Not too high, nor familiar, to prevent  
Both the extremes of hatred, and contempt  
Are thy true glories, not for show, but use,  
Need not bear judgement true, or beg excuse.  
Let losty Mounters proudly scale the sky  
With frizzled, sparkling bravery, and die.  
Let M●t vis with exhalations fed,  
Glutted with vapour, be soon famished.  
Let Potentares be swollen up big with Titles  
In Honour's Volumes but the smallest tittles.  
Let proud Phantastes much admire his Minion  
A ragged, ba●e, and beggarly Opinion.  
Thy praise is in thyself, not put to death  
By spiteful stopping of another's breath.  
To thee, without true excellence, 'tis naught,  
Great, and right Honourable, to be thought:  
Since it is more to be, than only seem;  
To merit glory, than to have esteem.  
To appear great to world dost not aspire,  
But (if to vulgar sight less) to be higher,  
Whilst haughtiness fond advancing Crest  
Th●'eth her own Fools-Coat the Noblest,  
Because it's gaudy: Scripture He aldry  
Gives the much better plain Humility.  
Thy self-denial is a noble feat,  
For greatest Alexander far too great;  
Too high for them whose soaring aims were bend  
To gain the title of Magnificent.  
It's truly honourable to despise  
That which the greatest Monarcl●s idolise.  
Ambition lawful is, and the intent  
Blessed, in goodness to be excellent;  
After good facts performing to Commerce,  
And take the high degrees of Eminence.  
The touring thoughts of pride, that do advance  
Their lofty heads by Gospel Ordinance,  
Thou batter'st down. Prayer, fastings do confer  
To make thee humble, a self Leveller.  
Before thou wast since that thy power to be  
Depended on God's Alsufficiency;  
That could produce. Thy futurition stated  
Was from the will, and virtue that created.  
Beauty, wit, greatness, honour thou'lt confess,  
But as they are derived from God, are less  
Than nothing in act safely canst maintain  
Them less than less than Nothing told again:  
Nor are nor can be real, but hang on  
The judgements greatest Contradiction.  
These reallized thou thankfully dost own,  
Because that they are thine, and not thy own;  
Thine, as to payment of a grateful mind;  
Thine, not to free from duty, but to bind;  
So not thine own a worthiness to raise  
In self, but what redoundeth to his praise.  
In this God must be sole without compare,  
Since it is granted, Nothing hath no share.  
Beauty so many envy, and admire;  
Honour few seek to merit, but acquire.  
Riches that suffer not the owner sleep;  
Health many seek to Court, but few to keep.  
Thousand degrees are short of parallel  
To Grace, wherein thou strivest to excel  
Transcendently becoming humble, so  
What most advanceth thee, still makes thee low,  
Thy native vileness truly to confess;  
And real greatness makes thee so much less  
In the esteem of self, yet on this score  
Thy worth and modesty deserve the more.  
Thy speeches pithy, solid, give a light  
Composed to instruct, and to delight,  
Serious, and pleasant, witty, pertinent,  
Grave, pat, and proper, fit for each intent,  
With pleasure hearer, that may entertain  
And recompense with profitable gain.  
Much unlike theirs, who troubled with the lask  
Or looseness of the tongue relate, and ask,  
Not with desire to be informed, or break  
Somewhat material to be known, but speak  
What savours ill. Let men pretend their fears  
How to such lavish tongues they lend their ears,  
Pleasant their fancies too in laying ten  
To one they never have them back again,  
Or not without the wrong of foul abuse.  
Thou payest precious earrings for the use  
Of some few short-lived Minutes, what is heard  
From thee, shall be their pleasure, and reward.  
Thy words as they employ so do they whet,  
Both exercise attention, and beget,  
They satisfy, not cloy. By what is said  
Hearer indebted it, as well as paid.  
Thy Counsels are resolving Medicines,  
Swasions, attractives, reproofs, Anodynes,  
Where the discreet, and tender management  
Make not the smallest part of Argument.  
Whilst vain talk Melancholy doth increase;  
Instead of helping, adds to the disease,  
Lifts up the spirits in transports, withal  
By their depression gives the sadder fall.  
Good Cordials skilfully compounded hit  
The cause, and so alleviate the fit:  
So thy well tempered speeches are more sure  
Way to give ease, and to effect the cure.  
Thy prudent humble meekness best can tame  
Anger, when fury would the more inflame.  
When overhasty Romans do oppose  
The stronger cunning Carthaginian grows,  
And more successful, but soon melts away  
By greater force of Fabian-delay.  
Quitting is stratagem to win the field,  
The way at once to overcome, and yield;  
Never the base regarding, petty harms  
Shall cast disgrace upon thy Coat of Arms.  
Thy Victories are not dishonoured,  
As where the Conqueror is vanquished.  
They of true triumph want the greater half,  
That conquer other Monarches, but not self.  
You that will have your nature judged by  
Laughter at good (some Lady's property)  
Come see the ugly face of your offence,  
In Mirror of unmoved Patience.  
By wrong would you provoke her? That doth move  
Her to provoke you so much more to love.  
Or will you calumnies cast? Her defence  
Is not the like reproach; but Innocence.  
In vain contend you with her, whose contest  
Is (not to get the better) to be best.  
She knows, they who by passion most have won,  
Will so much sooner prove to be undone.  
They run in debt, that sltrive to give offence  
To others, owe the greater recompense,  
An undeserved taunt or wicked curse  
Can make her virtue not a jot the worse,  
What malice casts upon, whilst not within,  
Is the reproach of others, not her sin.  
Were talk true Judge, the good then only might  
Be good by favour, and be bad by spite:  
Whilst some do in their needless visits room,  
Till they be greatest strangers to their home;  
Gadding as though they to the world were sent  
To be employed in what's Impertinent;  
As if their birth did privilege by right  
Them to cast off the care, and oversight  
Of house-concerns: thou keep'st thy wont ●rack  
Through each task of thy painful Zodiac.  
Like the bright Champion of the day, that rowls  
His flaming eye toward the distant Poles  
Arctic Antarctick, vieweth both the Tropics,  
The Seas Tartarian, and Aethiopicks.  
Thou art accomplished with quickest sense  
In wise forecast, and careful Providence,  
With memory fitly to recollect,  
And care in all things makes thee circumspect.  
Not suffering Medler in thy house to grow  
That's open-headed, nor unuseful slow:  
For slothful servants should there be no blame  
When idle, lazy thou wouldst force for shame  
By thy example them, that wait on thee,  
To be affected to good huswifry.  
They in their orbs must take their light from thine,  
So they are made to serve, as well as shine.  
By friend's persuasions, or thy fancy catched,  
To some prodigious temper art thou matched,  
Or married rather, to draw out in care  
Thy vexed life with a familiar;  
One that proves most unsuitable, whose gall  
overflowing fills the house with hateful brawl.  
Thy Physic is not usual by keen  
Reproofs, ill-savouring to mend his spleen,  
Repress his choler, sweetly to endure  
Thy Ethics tell thee is the way to cure.  
Where bombards cannot any breaches make,  
A milder siege is found the way, to take.  
Assoon the shackles of the Persian King,  
Or idle Ceremony of a Ring  
Presented by Pope to his Zany, may  
Bind Hellespout, oblige rough Adria  
To calmness, as sharp quips, loud blust'ring can  
Correct the madness of the chur●●h man.  
This piece of rigour, Nabalisme, rage,  
If curable, thou'●t break by Saxifrage  
Of patience, and discretion. When dint  
Of reason cannot, meekness breaks the flin●.  
But, if some passion break forth, 'tis thy strong  
Desire, endeavour that it die when young.  
Thou wilt not be at fruitless pains to nurse  
That, which as it grows elder groweth w●rse.  
Is he with fury charcoaled, of desire  
That softest breath makes him spit sparks of fire.  
Thy silence from his rage shall take supply.  
Anger, as fire, if't have no air will die.  
If glittering pretences don't abuse  
The can dour of thy judgement; but thou choose  
With love that is not blind associate,  
That may yield double comfort to thy state.  
Not Cynical, nor worthless passions sl●ve,  
But with a sweet complaysance that is grave,  
Whose gentle nature more designs to draw  
With most obliging carriage, than to a●e  
With stern looks, insolent commands: than you  
Cannot but hit the Golden Rule of two  
In Matrimonial fellowship, where one  
Heart, joy, concern, care, tongue make Unison.  
No emulation, who shall be above  
To govern, rule, command, control; but love.  
Strive who shall please most, and contention  
Is strong on both sides that there may be none.  
Thy snares are harmlessly to gain. Each gin  
Discreetly by thee laid is but to win.  
In joy, success, his sorrows, losses too  
Thou challengest for Jointure half as due.  
With his content thy cheerfulness will mingle;  
Thy person is not, nor are crosses single.  
By Catechising, good instruction  
To help fault of the first Transgression,  
And sad fruit thence arising to redress  
To most things sterile: but to barrenness  
Thou dost endeavour, that those of the earth  
May be made happy by a second birth  
To holiness; and thus thy prayers, and toil  
May be rewarded by a fruitful soil:  
With the sincere milk of the Word dost nurse  
To make them blessings, and take off the curse,  
Whereby they growing up afford the gain  
Of joy much greater than thy former pain.  
So toiling husbandman beholding fate  
And curse upon the earth degenerate  
Grubs up the shrubs, thorns, briars, and then ploughs,  
Harrows, and sows his seed with sweeting brows;  
And thus by manifold increase obtains  
Against the curse, what will reward his pains.  
Midas may wish for golden showers and Mountains,  
Atlantic hortyards and true Crystal fountains,  
That all his Roms might bear as precious fleece,  
As that which was fetched by the youths of Greece.  
His fields were Or, and Argent, nought to breed  
But precious money-wort, and silver-weed;  
Or pray that all his Cockle Oyster-shells  
With precious pearls were filled, and nothing else;  
That he may keep his Lent upon each fish,  
As rich as that in Polycrates dish.  
Thy earnest prayer is a great deal wiser,  
Than what obtained would always make a Miser.  
Therefore dost thou implore the power above,  
Thy heart may be good soil for Johns-wort-Love,  
Contentment which yields hearts ease, and true hope  
Directed unto Christ as Heliotrope;  
With resolution which still groweth best,  
As famous Palm the more it is oppressed,  
And sober temper, wherein doth consist  
More virtue than in precious Amethyst.  
As Corals colour said to sympathise  
With the distempered wearer, that thine eyes  
May Weather-glasses be, whereby to show,  
Whether with God's Church it be high or low.  
Thy Alms are stirring, not to get a Name,  
As other people do to do the same;  
Turning what is by bounteous Heaven sent,  
Not into pity by a compliment.  
But thy Compassion joined to God's command  
Enlarge thy tender heart, make liberal hand.  
An heart without good works, is in true sense,  
No part of charity, but a pretence.  
Where is ability, the poor have part,  
And a large share both in thy goods, and heart.  
Many do pamper up themselves in lust,  
With dishes, which Apician fancy must  
Be tortured for, the Appetite to fill,  
Whilst they make Reason basest Manciple.  
Yet when the poor are almost famished,  
Can nothing more afford than Be ye said  
Have guts, no bowels to receive the cry  
And moans of pining hard Necessity.  
But what is debt, thy wisdom makes a Loan,  
Which layeth out for him what is thine own;  
Knowing for his that be disposed is just,  
Which no way's thine, but only upon trust.  
When wanton Venuses do plait their hairs,  
With frizzled tresses make pernicious snares,  
Whilst these Ara●●nes wove their Cobweb thin  
Better to catch unwary Gallants in;  
Disfigure nature, and deform themselves,  
By patching, painting to take lovesome Elves;  
With Heliogabalus Monopolise  
Adventures of the strangest rarities;  
Torment Phantastes brain, till he can find  
Out modes, and fashions changing with their mind;  
Put the Chameleon to't, and Proteus too  
To put on shapes, and colours that are new;  
Take Adders hearts to raise their jolly strains;  
Drink Viper-wine, till it drink up their brain,  
To keep them fresh: By Cleopatra taught,  
Swallow ten thousand drachmas at a draught;  
Thus vainly giving up into the hand  
Of viler Corporal the chief Command,  
About the body taking chiefest care,  
Make it appear, how idle souls they are,  
No pains, no cost is thought too much, that can  
Contribute to enrich the inner man  
With glorious excellencies, and impart  
A● greater gracefulness unto thy heart.  
Thy wise concern is deeper than the skin,  
Truly to be all beautiful within.  
Thy ornaments are such, as we are told,  
Were made the Matron's bravery of old.  
If things be duly prized, when they are  
The farthest fetched, and dearest bought; how rare  
Are they, which from the throne of Heaven sought,  
By no less than the blood of God were bought?  
If things have value, which do so much please  
The eyes of men; how precious then are these,  
That take God's heart, whose approbation  
Gives worth unto the things which else have none?  
Eastern, and Western Indies, that entomb  
So much admired riches in their womb;  
The great adventures which were purchased by  
The Romish Catholic humanity,  
And filled the Spanish coffers, are much less  
Than what from Heaven's gift thou dost possess.  
Ten thousand millions, if summed up, are small  
And nothing, when compared to thine All.  
Most precious Diamonds to fight can bring  
But dazzled lustre, or weak glimmering.  
The Queen of Heaven, Constellations bright  
Make not the day, but mend the dismal night.  
When Heavens Champion doth but show his face,  
Affrighted darkness soon resigns its place.  
Thou art thrice happy, that receivest ray  
Of Christ the glorious Sun, that makes thy day.  
What did the Learned Heathens once advance  
But subtle piece of splendid ignorance?  
Led by the Taper of their Reason's light,  
That farthing-candle mended but their night,  
That had no saving knowledge. Argus' eyes  
Less power have, than this one to be wise.  
The pleasant picture seems to sport, and play  
With wanton glance converted every way,  
Or stand before, or turn to either side,  
Look at it, and you seem to be espied:  
So carnal minds seem great things to espy,  
Yet all but with a dead, and painted eye,  
Compared to thine, where the most real sight  
Proceedeth from a clear celestial light.  
Dives with delicates was daily fed  
Yet he poor soul did want thy daily bread,  
Who set at Wisdoms table dost enjoy  
Dainties, that do refresh, feed, fill, not cloy.  
Worldlings like Serpents, or Cameleons, are  
Nourished with clogging dust or empty air:  
Desire insatiate hath painted dishes,  
That more inflame the heart with idle wishes.  
As riches multiply upon men; so  
The dropsy of their greediness doth grow,  
And vastness of estate doth make them scant,  
Greater the fullness is, the greater want.  
Thy lowliness of mind, doth make thee higher;  
By want thou art enriched with good desire;  
Which makes thee after Living God to pant,  
To gain more plentiful estate by want.  
The greatest Monarches would much richer be,  
Were they enriched by thy Poverty.  
The base sons of earth do fall upon  
Ignoble game, and feed on carrion.  
Thy nobler mind aspireth to attain,  
Though at expense of losses, more to gain  
Of the Angelical, and pleasant food  
Most satisfying, and eternal good.  
Nor will thy strong desires cease to ascend,  
Until enjoyment to hope put an end.  
Circumvolution of few sliding hours  
In season less benign fade sweetest flowers;  
The mighty works of Architecture pay  
At length their debt to Nature in decay,  
And Hieroglyphic Serpent that sets bounds  
To mortals beings with its numerous rounds,  
That will have gnawed to pieces in some while  
The world, though it were metal hard as file,  
Hath buried tombs, and monuments shall be  
The spoil and triumph of eternity.  
Thy ornaments are of celestial mould  
By longest tract of time that grow not old,  
Not subject to the thief, moth, rust, or waste,  
Or to be lessened by the time that's past;  
Still shall be fresh, have no relation  
To the vile worm or base corruption.  
To thee that makest it thy care to look  
For happiest estate in Doomsday Book,  
And waitest for the everlasting bliss,  
A Term too short Fee-simple ever is.  
Each gate of th' heavenly Jerusalem  
Is represented by a precious Gem.  
How glorious then shall daughter of the King  
Appear? whose grace will have eternal spring  
And perfect growth; who treading on the Moon,  
Shall be completely clothed with the Sun  
Of righteousness; to whom Don Phoebus bright  
That rules the day, affords but Gloworm light:  
When there shall be no shadow, nor decay,  
No showers, no clouds, to slain the perfect day.  
Here learn you to be wise, whose careless care  
Is to sleep, dress, feast, chat, and take the air;  
Whose idle work when rarely set upon,  
And to do nothing almost are all one;  
Whose planetary lives are chiefly spent  
In the Exchange of frothy Compliment.  
With you the ancient virtues are much more  
Grown out of fashion than the clothes they wore:  
Your shame is to be fixed amongst the Stars,  
By vanity of your lewd Jupiter's,  
That much admire you, to ensnare their eyes,  
As do the painted, powd'red Butterflies  
Some little children, and for nothing else  
To be admired by Merchants; but your shells  
Like scented Panthers that destroy, and please  
And poison, as the bright Cantharideses.  
Why so high born brave Dames? None of you can  
Draw out your lives inch longer than the span  
Designed. Why swell you big with thoughts of birth?  
The Worm's your Sister, and your Mother Earth.  
Are you with travel of your Mother grown  
Noble? The labour than was not your own  
Or doth your honour come by being marched?  
That light is borrowed from the fool you catched.  
Do you yourselves by fame, that's common, prize?  
That, when the giddy humour's over, dies.  
As bubble swollen with empty ' air doth last  
●●me thoughts, not many, longer than the blast.  
One breath blows up, and breaks this wat'ry bail,  
And half a Minute is its Spring and Fall.  
What, is it not enough, some to employ  
To Indieses most remote, to fetch a toy,  
Or precious tr●fle, yet all this to dress,  
And to equip your rotten carcases?  
But that the Artist black must run to Hell  
To fetch your fortunes, and return to tell?  
Shall wandr'ing Gipsies, and that wicked Crew  
Of Vagrants, that pretend as if they knew  
Future Contingents, have your charity,  
And be rewarded for the●r cheating lie?  
Whereas the godly Ministers that bear  
Affection to your souls scarce gain your ear?  
When they declare the woeful state of sin,  
And misery you are involved in  
By nature, show restored you cannot be  
To sight, unless you know you do not see;  
And send you to the Son of God, whose bright  
Rays to the Saints in Heaven give a light.  
They tell you you are dead in sin, and give  
This token of their love, to wish you live.  
Direct you unto Christ, your life, whereby  
You may have health, wealth, and true liberty.  
Since you will know the things that are to come,  
Out of the Word they read the dreadful Doom  
Of all that have no interest in him,  
If they continue in their death and sin.  
Shall yet a costly patch amount to more  
Than what ye ever gave unto the poor?  
Shall they that sighing do reprove you, have  
No better thanks than Clown, or saucy Knave?  
May your faults acted be, and not be told?  
Will you not be persuaded you are old?  
Or so shall be erelong? Why bring you down  
The rate of A●e which is a glorious Crown  
In righteousness? Would you have death to come  
And Compliment your Honours to the Tomb?  
Or will you bid him stay below? For why,  
You are not yet in humour brought to die.  
And to prevent his visit, send to tell,  
That you are busy, or not very well.  
Death is a Doctor, such you'll scarce endure,  
That killeth all; yet not a few doth cure.  
Will you like Jezabels your faces paint,  
And think withal, that Sergeant grim to daunt  
With your imperious looks? In vain ye do'●;  
He'll not be scared, but tread you under foot.  
Thy body to neglect, thou'lt not endure;  
And must thy soul be then a sine Cure?  
O foolish thoughts, pains, wishes vain, which are  
Not to be holy, humble, meek, but fair!  
For shame let not such golden seasons pass  
Upon your boards, beds, sports, or looking-glass.  
Cut off some minutes toward the concern  
Of what the world despiseth sempitern.  
Why look you on Religion as a Dame,  
That is too homely, beareth not a name  
Amongst vain Ranters; with severities  
Of mortifying zeal doth blear her eyes;  
Deforms her visage, and forbids all airs  
Of merriment to pine herself with cares,  
And dreadful thoughts in a tormented life,  
That none but fools would choose her for a Wife,  
Gallants will scarce afford Civility,  
To serve the Custom of a Cap, and knee.  
Her noble quality well understood,  
Would show her great, and of the Royal blood.  
It's not below best of most Princely house,  
To Court her Ladyship, and to espouse.  
So excellent is beauty of this Saint,  
It cannot be worse injured than by paint.  
Her vast estate is not confined by  
The bounds too narrow of Geography.  
All the Gold, Silver, Pearls, Fruits this Globe bears  
To one of many Jewels that she wears,  
Bear no compare in value; if not you,  
Yet this the wisest Merchants have found true,  
The testimony of good Conscience,  
That there hath been a thorough sight, and sense  
Of odious sin, so powerful as to make  
The soul, with hatred, sin and self forsake,  
And cleave to Christ, resting on him alone,  
With constant holy life reflected on  
Through God's great mercy do afford more true,  
Lasting, great, cordial joy than that which you  
Conceive to be had by the losing reins  
Of Civil temper, to run into strains  
Of jollity, screwed up to highest pin  
Of madness, that you may not feel your sin:  
Yours is but heartless laughter; for your sinning,  
Maketh a foul, and but convulsive grinning;  
Not unlike the Sardinian herb, whereby  
Men only seem to laugh; but surely die.  
You say God's mercy you rely upon:  
Is it good hope, or bold presumption?  
Speak out your meaning; and be understood:  
Will you be wicked, because God is good?  
And is it gratitude, so to abuse  
The mercy, which you thankfully should use?  
To serve the perfect Being with decays,  
And him that's always present, with delays?  
At distance pleasures of the earth appear  
Greater; grow lesser much, as they draw near.  
Their promises shifting delays you find,  
Why do you not then serve them in their kind?  
Say, this were granted, you might on still run  
In vanity to your Declining Sun,  
And meet with no arrest to stop career  
Of mirth, or cause the sadness of a tear.  
What will the end be? Will dry bones, dim eyes,  
Decrepit acts, be fit for Sacrifice?  
Is it meet, Sin, World, Devil have the prime  
Of vigour, beauty, action, strength, and time?  
And he that for all mind, heart, might doth call  
Have most deformed, weakest part of all?  
Will you present the first fruits unto sin?  
Leave the poor share, and glean unto him?  
And what, I pray, are offers like to get,  
When you are old, but a prolonged Not yet?  
Although to act your follies, nought can move  
With so much pleasure; Will you cease to love  
The vanities you cannot act? What force  
Must be required to make a full Divorce?  
Is it too much, to be at small expense  
Of some few minutes cost in reference  
To soul-concerns? when frightful death draws near  
To do its work Repentance will be dear.  
A true Repentance never is too late:  
But true Repentance seldom bears that Date.  
What person in her wits, if once begun,  
Would prosecute the thing must be undone;  
Make work for sorrow, run upon the score;  
Strive to have less to pay with, owe the more?  
Did the oppressor, or the filcher own  
Necessity of Restitution  
In his Repentance, 'twould do more than brand,  
To cure him of the felons in his hand.  
Real belief would cause you to prevent  
What being done, doth call you to repent.  
When pious women ready are to give  
Account of life, than you'll begin to live.  
Amendment you resolve on, make that good,  
And that you are reform I'll conclude.  
What thou dost purpose from a sincere heart,  
Not what thou wilt be shows, but what thou art.  
Thus to design, will make thee God advance  
Above the world in brightest Circumstance,  
And dost thou thus the world despise, when it  
Advantage hath, to gain thy Appetite?  
If not, to pleasure thou art but in thrall;  
For all pretence, thou lov'st not God at all.  
Two ways, that come to one, of saying Nay  
To the words Now I'll never, or delay.  
Suppose thy mind still same to Heavens call,  
Not yet will prove the same, as not at all.  
To promise then is gross impertinence,  
Forsake thy wicked life, or this pretence.  
Behold one, that hath swaggered in the world  
With riches, honour; great retinue buried  
Into a loathsome prison, there to see  
His folly past, and present misery;  
And view thy destiny. His higher rate  
Of living, makes the sadness of his state:  
His former plenty makes his want the more:  
If not so rich, he had not been so poor.  
His titles that gave splendour to his name,  
Remembered now, do but augment his shame.  
Thy matchless beauty, whileome which espied  
Begat the lover's do●age, and thy pride;  
(When nothing thou canst find consulting glass,  
But ruins only of one form that was)  
Will render thee far more despised, and be  
The aggravation of deformity.  
Affected blemishes, and spottings were  
The wicked artifice to make thee fair:  
Now wrinkled age will glory in her spoil  
To rising beauties making thee a foil.  
Wisdom hath more trust, and esteem when sage:  
And Relics too gain credit by their age:  
But thou must be con●emned and forlorn;  
Deserving subject for the Gallants scorn;  
Not able to bear up against disdain;  
Or to redress by turning young again.  
Shall I black Mantle borrow of the night,  
To wrap thy dismal case in? 'Tis too slight.  
Or midnight-sable-robe, although  
Without Moon, Stars? 'Twould not be sad enough.  
Nothing man's mind affords so black to tell  
The blackest darkness of thy state, but Hell.  
Thy soul is solitary wilderness,  
A fearful shade of saddest wretchedness.  
Thy thoughts are Vultures. Conscience with her sting  
Torments thee: Satyr's dance, as Scriech-Owls sing.  
The pleasant fancies, that refresh thy mind,  
Are Fairy Devils, each sad thought black Fiend:  
Enjoyment 〈◊〉 of honour, pleasure, pelf,  
Cannot 〈…〉 from the dread of self.  
How wilt thou bear God's wrath? Men paint not fire  
So faintly as that fierceness of his ire.  
To slight that mercy, do not then presume;  
Which, if it may not win thee, will consume.  
Let trust in mercy this at least impart  
Unto thy Conscience, that thou serious art.  
The Satirist condemns thy vain (I will  
To morrow) that will be to morrow still.  
To morrow which thou beggedst yesterday,  
Is lost, yet without blushing thou canst say  
To morrow yet: but were it lent, thou'dst pray  
To have the leisure of another day.  
As hastening hinder-wheel, doth seem in Coach  
To promise it will make more near approach  
Unto the former; when rolled o'er and o'er,  
Yet keeps same distance that it did before:  
So thou, although thou talkest of to morrow,  
That gained, wouldst be at no less need to borrow  
A further day: purpose and to amend,  
Would keep an equal distance to   
The End.