ELIZABETH FOOLS WARNING, Being a true and most perfect relation of all that has happened to her since her marriage.  
Being a Caveat for all young women to marry with old men.  Experientia docet. 
By Elizabeth With of Woodbridge.  
London, Printed for Francis Coals in the Old-Baily. 1659.   

 woman with a nosegay   

How my old Naboth rejoiceth over his Conquest.  
MY old wife hath hanged herself,  
as you may understand,  
Now I have got a young wife,  
i'll bring her to my hand.  
By my old wife, 'tis true,  
a house I did inherit,  
With my young wise I had nothing  
but a devilish spirit.  
Her i'll curb, and keep under,  
and lock her out of door,  
Take away her meat and drink,  
and never love her more.  
It was my Sister's counsel,  
that I should use her so,  
Though she herself doth Lord it,  
and what she lists will do.  
My sister is a proud dame,  
and hath store of riches,  
And while her husband lived  
she always wore the breeches.  
My daughter is a Goldsmith's wife,  
and lives on Tower Hill,  
Her husband is a loving man,  
and lets her have her will.  
My wife shall not so fool me,  
her  she shall not wear,  
Because she brought me nothing,  
O take them daughter Dear.  

Her Answer.  
Husband's, for portion, 'tis true,  
I brought you none,  
I could have been without you,  
had you let me alone.  
You cried me in the Market,  
fie for shame, wherefore?  
Yet sure I am it was not  
my  for to restore.  
You know full well my silk gown  
I never wore two hours,  
And though your daughter wears it,  
she's gay but with my flowers.  
Have I fine , I am content,  
or it I have none  
I hope all will be for the best.  
though my  be gone.  
Whether I have something,  
or nothing to inherit,  
Yet to a low condition  
I can frame my Spirit.  
It's not wealth or riches  
I so much require,  
But Grace, Virtue, Goodness  
above all I desire:  
Let husband, sister, daughter all  
against me conspire,  
God turn their hearts, and keep them  
from hell's tormenting fire.    

Elizabeth Fools Warning.  

ALl you young women that live here in health  
Mary not with old men, hoping to get wealth.  
For riches have wings, and fly like the wind,  
I married for riches, but none could I find.  
Were I now to marry, learn would I more wit,  
For now I am forced my living to get.  
I married in youth, a man struck in age,  
Who vowed fond love, but fell into rage:  
Instead of a kiss, I oft got a Ban,  
And many a cursed blow from my old man:  
Oh, foolish, simple, Eve, hadst thou been wise,  
Thou mights have lived on earthly Paradise;  
But now thou mayest repent, alas, too late,  
Yet be contented with this thy mean estate.  
When I in Woodbridge lived a maid,  
All my good fortunes were betrayed,  
By an ancient widower living nigh,  
Who cast on me a deceitful eye;  
He said, if I would be his wife,  
That I should live a happy life;  
My Dame her council did me give,  
And said how bravely I might live;  
And if now young, I let my Fortune slip,  
I never should at such a brave match tip:  
For than he told me flat and plain,  
That neatly he would me maintain.  
His promises than did please me well,  
I loved to go fine I must you tell,  
Oh! I was foully cheated by this old slim,  
And on a Palmsunday was married to him  
Unknown unto my kindred all  
On slippery ice I then did fall.   

I had not been married one month unto him  
But in the Seas of sorrow I daily did swim;  
That better have lived I might in a jail,  
He and his children did at me so rail:  
Both he and his Sister at me did scoff,  
My Peacock's feathers they soon plucked off:  
Instead of smiles he gave me a frown  
In his locking up my best silk gown,  
Which with my petticoats so neatly wrought  
Into his Sister's Chest after he brought;  
Which She locked up upon that score  
That I should never have them more.   

How? patiented Grisill what dost thou now say?  
Art thou contented with thy Gown of grey?  
How canst thou choose but mourn and weep,  
Whilst this proud Peacock doth thy Feathers keep?  
Fall down on thy knees to thy sister unkind,  
Perhaps that may please her ambitious mind.  
Thy husband will rejoice when he doth know  
That thereby she hath humbled thee so low.   

What shall I bend unto that Foe?  
Who is the cause of all my woe;  
That by the frs of her false lip  
Is the chief cause if backward I slip.  
When first these wasps at me did fly  
Then I would sit me down and cry:  
And many days I spent my tears in vain,  
At length I left this crying strain:  
And when old Naboth played his part,  
I did get patiented Grisills' heart.   

The first year a son by him I had  
Which made the old man's heart full sad;  
He wrung his hands and wished his flesh might rot  
If ever another child he got.   

But within two years after  
By him I did conceive a daughter,  
And when he saw I did increase his flock,  
Upon his chamber door he hung a lock  
For fear it should consume his malting stock;  
I asked him then why he was so unkind,  
His answer was he would leave no beggars behind;  
I wish him of that mind, that I no more may have  
Till his old proper person be laid deep in the grave:  
When I to him (by marriage) was bound,  
By me he had a piece of fruitful ground.  
He has my youthful building very much defaced  
And many years hath laid my ground in waste.  
I pray then old man think of it not ill  
If another should thy Summer-land Till:  
But truly I desire no other man  
But my own dear husband if I can.  
Paul doth exhort the woman to give her husband no offence,  
And eke the husband to give his wife due benevolence.  
But woe to them I say,  
by whom offences come,  
'Twere better for them they had never been born  
unless it had been done.    

How Elizabeth Fool and her husband parted by means of her Sister in Law.  

I Lived with my old man full nigh ten year,  
But at last (upon condition) I parted from my dear.  
He and his sister (yearly) were content  
To allow me forty shillings to pay my rent.  
I had but six pence in my purse  
which was to buy me bread:  
And then I went to be a nurse,  
my body for to feed.  
Unto a poor woman, nurse, was I,  
as you may understand:  
And always to her work was nigh,  
and ready at her command.  
Then did I go to house-keeping  
which is the best of all:  
Three weeks I lay upon a mat  
turned up against a wall.  
His Sister lent me her flock bed,  
my patience for to prove:  
But I returned it her again,  
flox choke her for her love.  
Sometimes I did get sowing work,  
and sometimes I got none:  
Had not my son Thomas supplied my wants  
full hungry had I gone.   

Now when a whole year was almost spent,  
I asked my money to pay my rent:  
But he said one penny be would not give  
For to maintain me whilst I do live.  
Yet here is a bone for the old man to knaw,  
If he will it not me give, i'll have it by Law.   

All you that be disposed  
to abuse me with your tongue,  
I pray first consider  
whether I have done the wrong;  
And look home to your own hearts,  
and there perhaps you may see  
Your minds incline to wand'ring thoughts  
as much as others be.   
Farewell.   

A true relation composed by her, after their parting, of all her sufferings by him.  
WHen as I set alone, and harm to none did mean,  
I thought upon my sorrows all,  
On them I made this theme.  
Dear husband pity me,  
do not my suit disdain,  
But grant me some relief  
and mine own  again.  
It is ten years ago  
since first I loved thee,  
But thy love's fled away  
by the false fealousie.  
When we first married were  
as other Couples be,  
Within one six week's time  
thou toldst thy mind to me:  
Then of a Cherry got  
from off thy Cherrytree,  
Thou ferchst a pail of water then  
and poured it all on me;  
Then I sat dripping there,  
almost wet to the skin:  
This was my old man's love  
to make me a wonderlin.  
When he railed here and there.  
than the wicked bent their bow;  
Thou hast made my head to ache  
with many a bitter blow.  
Thus you began your pranks,  
and so did use your spite,  
You sold one house away,  
to wrong me of my right.  
Then you sold your householdstuff,  
and these were your bad tricks,  
Now your heart is grown so tough  
you have turned me to my shifts.  
You took away my bread,  
and locked up my drink;  
Was not this a woeful cross,  
let all my neighbours think?  
You took away my bed,  
which caused me to cry;  
Yet all the Town shall plainly see,  
i'll bear it patiently.  
Then I lay on the mat  
many a cold Winter's night;  
And yet I am in health  
though you did use your spite.  
You took my  from me,  
for them I make great moan,  
There's all I gained by thee,  
now all my gain is gone:  
Then did you let your house away  
to drive me out of door.  
I was fain to hire one room,  
you have made me now so poor.  
Thus you used all the means  
to make me a disdain,  
For full seven years of this ten  
you did my bed refreine.  
Though I no cause you gave,  
nor nothing you could find,  
It was to try my constancy  
you bore this knavish mind.  
Then did you to Berry ride,  
your bad cause to maintain;  
Like an old fool you went,  
so you came home again.  
Thus you ride here and there  
with your envious face.  
Now were it in your power,  
you would me quite disgrace.  
Though some words I did speak,  
such deeds I ne'er did none:  
You with your writings large.  
did make a knavish moan.  
Oh have not such a mind,  
nor be not in a rage:  
Do not seek here to bind  
the staff of your old age.  
Though your dart pierce my heart,  
though your deeds me provoke:  
I have a heart fit for your dart,  
and prepared for your stroke.  
And though you leave me hear,  
and nothing to inherit:  
It is not all your cruelty  
shall ever curb my spirit.  
Let railing Shimeon curse,  
let Naboth strike his stroke;  
Now Devil do thy worst,  
I have an heart of Oak.  
But if thou loving be,  
i'll be the same to thee;  
Come kiss thine own Betty  
and then lets both agree.  
It I like Tamar should do that  
which is not good;  
I may thank my old Judas  
that makes me live so long in widowhood.  
Judith judged Tamar to be burnt for sin,  
When he himself was the main cause therein.   

Elizabeth Fools sorrowful journey.  

WHen I did first to London go,  
By hand was filled with care and woe.  
I hired a horse, I do it not deny,  
For when the seas were dangerous,  
I would not go in a hoy.  
But had I thought my journey would have been so cross,  
I would have gone on foot, & not rid on a horse.  
I pray good people do not believe,  
what some falsely do say,  
That I am with the horses Master  
rid quite away.  
To run away with a married man,  
is a thing which I much scorn;  
But I was willing to ride of his horse  
to have my charges born.  
Now in this City I abide,  
and he is gone over the main:  
I wish good fortune him beside,  
till he come home again.  
Upon the road as I did ride,  
this council I did him give:  
When he returned home again,  
with his own wife to live.  
I never advised him in all my life  
to live with me from his own wife,  
Although I love to laugh, jest,  
and be merry,  
Yet of such kind of snares  
I will be wary.  
Many persons are apt to spy  
the mote that's in another's eye:  
But when the beam is in their own  
their evil deeds shall not be known   

Now may your neighbour's judge and say,  
That you made one wife hang herself,  
and the other go away.  
I care not for friend nor kin,  
if I see they slight me:  
'Tis not all their angry looks  
which shall here affright me.  
For if God doth lend me health  
I can live without their wealth.  
Let the toad and the spider spit poison their fill,  
Yet the snake and the Adder shall ne'er have their will.    
FINIS.