The Bride | Page 7

men perswades:
And hate disdaine that vile accursed sin,?Least they be plagu'd for pride as I haue bin.
How say you to this warning wenches now,?That Lady Adhan giues vnto you all,?Were you not better marriage to allow,?Then in a manner for a Midwife call:
I thinke you were if I might iudge the cause,?How say you Susan_, speake good _Doll_ and _Grace.
Grace.
This is a story that seemes very strange,?And for my part, it doth me full perswade,?My Mayden-head with some man to exchange,?I will not liue in danger of a mayde:
The world the flesh, the diuell tempts vs still,?Ile haue a husband, I protest I will.
If I were sure none of you here would blabbe,?I would euen tell you of a dreame most true,?And if I lye, count me the veriest drabbe,?That euer any of you saw or knewe:
When a friend speakes in kindnes do not wrong her:?For I can keepe it (for my life) no longer.
One night (I haue the day of moneth set downe)?Because I will make serious matters sure,?Me thought I went a iourney out of towne,?And with a propper man I was made sure:
As sure as death, me thought we were assured,?And all things for the businesse were procured.
We did agree, and faith and troath did plight,?And he gaue me, and I gaue him a Ring,?To doe as Mistris Bride will doe at night,?And I protest me thought he did the thing:
The thing we stand so much vpon he tooke,?And I vpon the matter bigge did looke.
Forsooth (in sadnes,) I was bigge with childe,?And had a belly, (marry God forbid,)?Then fell a weeping, but he laught and smil'd,?And boldly said, weele stand to what we did:
Fye, fye (quoth I) who euer stands I fall,?Farewell my credit, maydenhead and all.
Thus as I cry'd and wept and wrong my hands,?And said deare maydes and maydenhead adue,?Before my face me thought my mother stands,?And question'd with me how this matter grew:
With that I start awake as we are now,?Yet feard my dreame had bin no dreame I vow.
I could not (for my life) tell how to take it,?For I was stricken in a mightie maze,?Therefore if marriage come Ile not forsake it,?Tis danger to liue virgin diuers wayes,
I would not in such feare againe be found,?Without a husband, for a thousand pound.
Susan.
Is it euen so Grace, are you come to this,?You that perswaded me from loue of late,?When you knew who, sent me a Ring of his:?And would haue had me bin his turtle mate,
You cunningly did make me to forsake him,?Because I thinke in conscience you will take him.
Ile trust your word another time againe,?That can dissemble so against your heart,?Wishing that I should earnestly refraine,?From that which thou thy selfe embracer art:
This is braue doing, I commend you Grace,?But ile nere trust you more in such a case.
Bride.
I pray you here let this contention ende,?(We being all of selfe same woman kind,)?And each the other, with aduise befriend,?Because I see some of you well enclin'd:
To take good wayes, and so become good wiues,?Ile teach you certaine rules to leade your liues.
You that intend the honourable life,?And vvould vvith ioy liue happy in the same,?Must note eight duties doe concerne a wife,?To vvhich vvith all endeuour she must frame:
And so in peace possesse her husbands loue,?And all distast from both their hearts remooue.
The first is that she haue domestique cares,?Of priuate businesse for the house vvithin,?Leauing her husband vnto his affaires,?Of things abroad that out of doores haue bin:
By him performed as his charge to doe,?Not busie-body like inclin'd thereto.
Nor intermedling as a number will,?Of foolish gossips, such as doe neglect,?The things which doe concerne them, and too ill,?Presume in matters vnto no effect:
Beyond their element, when they should looke,?To what is done in Kitchin by the Cooke.
Or vnto childrens vertuous education,?Or to their maides that they good huswiues be,?And carefully containe a decent fashion,?That nothing passe the lymmits of degree:
Knowing her husbands businesse from her own,?And diligent doe that, let his alone.
The second dutie of the wife is this,?(Which shee in minde ought very carefull beare)?To entertaine in house such friends of his,?As she doth know haue husbands welcome there:
Not her acquaintance without his consent,?For that way Iealousie breeds discontent.
An honest woman will the scandall shun,?Of that report is made of wantonnesse,?And feare her credit will to ruine run,?When euill speakers doe her shame expresse:
And therefore from this rule a practise drawes,?That the effect may cease, remoue the cause.
Th'ird dutie is, that of no proude pretence,?She moue her husband to consume his meanes,?With vrging him to needlesse vaine expence,?Which toward the Counter, or to Ludgate leanes:
For many ydle huswiues (London knowes)?Haue by their pride bin husbands ouerthrowes,
A modest woman will in compasse keepe,?And decently vnto her calling goe,?Not diuing in the frugall purse too deepe,?By making to the world