A VVIFE, NOT READY MADE, BUT BESPOKEN, BY DICUS the Batchelor, and made up for him by his fellow Shepheard TITYRUS.

In four Pastorall Eglogues.

The second Edition: Wherein are some things added but nothing amended.

All Husbands that do laugh or weep,
Read over this before you sleep;
Here's virtue in each line and letter,
To make both good and bad Wives better:
But they that are resolv'd for none,
Were better let this Book alone,
Lest seeing here the good of Wives,
They change their Votes for married Lives.

LONDON, Printed for A. R. 1653.

TO My Honoured Good Friend Sr Robert Stapleton.

THou that enjoyst the happiest life
That ever mortall lead with Wife,
Who so in goodness doth transcēd,
She neither needs nor can amend:
Were I as thou, sure I should feare
That I my Heaven on Earth had here,
And that which is a sadding story,
Must bide as long in Purgatory:
To thee, this Wife will needs addresse
To mediate her a Patronesse,
For well she knows thou dost excell
In knowing more than she cantell,
And that of Females thou art Master,
And wilt trust none to be thy taster.
Of thy great Learning none makes doubt,
Thou them within knowst as without,
The greatest Schollers ever deign
The Sonets of a Sheephards Swain.
R. A.

Lectori Caelibi. To the single Reader.

THou with this Wife in Bed maist lye
Yet not commit Adulterye,
And though twice twelve empanneld men should finde
Thee guilty, and thy Judges be inclin'd
To hang or head thee, for a sinfull fact
Thou shalt avoid the fury of the Act:
In Curia rectus thou maist boldly stand
From dread of Whip or burning in the Hand;
Abandon Her, she will be well content
To wave her right and claim to Aliment;
Nor can the Remedies the Law affords
Gainst force and Rape or wresting from her words
She'l not Inflame the pimping Taylors score,
To make her such a wagtayl as Iane shore.
Like Act of Pardon pen'd with finest skill
She is a Wife and no Wife at thy will;
A Hochos Pocos tyde with such a noose
Thou at thy pleasure maist play fast and loose;
Behold her well, she favours at a glance
That specious Self-denying Ordinance.
J. H.

The two married Shepheards T. and D. to R. and G. Batchelours.

YOu both secure in harbour sit,
And smile at our experienc'd wit:
Who plead at Bar before our Wives,
For Liberties and quiet lives:
Such Blisse did only Jove obtain,
That Greeks and Trojanes on the plain,
From Idas top, did fighting see,
In far lesse danger there, than wee.
You move above in single sphears,
And sport with jealousies and fears
Of married folks, and houshould care:
Your flocks the better surely fare.
The single man no weather feels
But rising, in the night, all seels,
To's dearest Lambs doth duely look,
Bears he a Tinn'd or Silver Crook.
Sweet Milk and Hony is his diet.
His Physick true content and quiet,
A soup of Cider or brisk Perry
Will make his heart all blith and merry:
And going to his dreadles nest,
Findes nothing there to break his rest,
But on a Couch of mosse and leaves,
All worldly Cares and thought deceives.
His sleep as sweet as short: his dreams
Of flowry banks, or silver streams,
Thence early up, in open air
He leads his flocks through pastures fair,
Where crystall brooks soft murmuring
Invite his Heart to sleep or sing
With Quiristers, in neighbour groves,
Who there recount their mutuall loves.
You Batchelors live merry lives,
But wee'l not change, that have good Wives.
IF he that hath character'd out a Wife,
Might see her practique part thus drawn to life,
He could not but with shouts and acclamation,
Preferre thy practice to his contemplation:
So dost thou branch her out in every line,
That only thou deserv'st she should be thine:
Oh! wer't thou single now, and free, as I,
No woman, shouldst thou ask, could thee deny;
So powr'fully hast thou their cause defended,
And highly, as they well deserve, commended:
Such goodnes thou descri'st in woman kinde,
As never any could before thee finde.
G. H.

To the Courteous READER.

BE thou yoa'kd or single man,
Shew her fellow if thou can,
One may chance seek all his life,
Yet not finde out such a Wife,
May her Parallel be shown,
Take her Reader for their own.


The first Eglogue.

Speakers: Dicus, Tityrus.
GOod Tityrus! what shall I do?
I love, yet am afraid to wooe,
Such freedom is in single life,
I dread the yoaking with a Wife;
For now I revell, sing and play,
Go where I list each Holiday,
Laugh, caroll, pipe: thus blithe and merry,
I to my Lambs sing Hey down derry:
But if I once turn married man,
Then say or do I what I can,
All is too little her to please,
I fain would wive, yet live at ease;
I hear some married men, that say,
That wives will brow-beat all the day,
At night within the curtains preach,
And men must learn what they do teach;
Against this how may I provide?
They best can teach us that have tri'd.
If she within the curtains chide,
My head within the sheet I hide,
And either to my prayers fall,
Or on the Musing Sisters call,
To help me sing, or else to weep,
Till in the end I fall asleep:
[Page 2]
Then Great Apollo in a Dream,
Forbids me strive against the stream;
By stirring I much dust may raise,
The lowring Mornes prove fairest daies:
Good Hous-wives when their pot boils over,
To cool the Broth take off the cover,
The simple make it seethe up higher,
By laying fuell on the fire.
Thus sweeten I a married life,
And when I wake behold my Wife
As kindely fals within mine Arms,
As if she never meant me harms.
This Counsell only they can follow,
Who are acquainted with Apollo,
But many Husbands finde a shrow,
That never did Apollo know,
Nor ever supped at the Well
By which the Musing Sisters dwell.
Why! Dicus they may fail to pray,
That's for the night: But how by day?
Must I demean to stint all strife,
With whom I must spend all my life?
Indeed it is the depth of skill,
To leade a Woman by her will:
For sure there is no other way,
But let them have their Doe and Say.
The Art is to encline them so,
They may aright both Say and Doe.
Else do I know no other fence,
But use the Buckler Patience.
A man may offer with the Waster,
But 'tis not good to strike the Master
At School; and it is the Scholars end
To learn no more then how to fend.
If thus it be with marri'd life,
'Tis best to be without a Wife.
Thus Husbands say, yet marry seven,
As some by Crosses come to Heaven:
The wrecked Merchant under Lea,
A second venture makes to Sea;
And I have heard some Husbands tell,
That they of Wives do like so well,
Of which they one by one had store,
That they could wish as many more.
What cause hath Dicus then to doubt them?
That sees so few can live without them.
Sure now I think the greatest blame
In men thus women to defame:
Their goodnesse he knows best that tries them,
But to be good no man denies them.
They sure are good by night or day,
At bed or board, at work or play,
To follow, or to go before,
Abroad, or else within the door;
Things are they which men still have need on,
But they are best of all to breed on:
The worst Wives are not so ill wrought,
But they are good, though good for nought:
Men erre when they would have them all
Just like their looks, Angelicall,
(And yet we reade of Angels pride)
She is a ribbe of thine own side:
That which is pure in her, lo she
Derives from Heav'n, the rest from thee.
Faith Dicus, now thy Fate I see,
Thou soon a married man wilt be.
This Tale among the Gossips tell,
And they will like thee all so well,
[Page 4]
(For to be praised all rejoyce)
That thou of Wives must have thy choice.
But look to't well, thou art of age,
Prove not like sullen Bird in Cage,
Forbear thy meat, and loathe satiety,
And long again for free variety.
Oh! be not like the Fish that plays
About the Leap, in love with Gays,
But soon as he is in, would fain
Get out but never can again.
If so, I shall not be alone,
To thee I'le never make my mone.
Nor t'any else, if thou be wise,
As thou hast got, so keep thy Prise;
Look ere thou leap, complaining after
Will with thy friends breed nought but laughter.
An honest, chearfull, constant life
Will better both thy self and Wife.
But we met here this morning soon,
And now my shadow says 'tis noon;
At Bed nor Board, if thou wilt marry,
Thou must not make thy wife to tarry.
This is the only way to teach,
When men will practise what they preach.
How glad am I of this good hap,
To see thy Precepts in a Map.
What's here in colours, to the life
I'le practise when I have a Wife.
Farewell: I feel my stomack chime,
With Melibe 'tis dinner time.

The second Eglogue.

Speakers, Dicus, Tityrus.
NOw Tityrus, I try and finde
A Wife agreeing to my minde;
My joys reflected doubled are,
She shareth half my Grief and Care,
In what she joys, I joy no lesse,
Thus double we our happinesse.
In all things we communicate,
And come I early home, or late,
She alwaies ready hath to fit
Me with some sweet warm dainty bit.
I finde it now the only life,
To be thus wedded to a Wife.
Lo, I do get, and she doth spare,
Abroad I, she at home takes Care,
A married life's a Hav'n of blisse,
Which who wants, half himself doth misse;
My veins now fresher bloud do breed,
I with a better stomack feed.
It is a Rule observ'd of all,
Take off the Common to the Stall
A Beast, and he will better thrive,
As Bees best gather in a hive.
Good Dicus, boast not yet too soon,
It is with thee but Honey-Moon:
When I to School went, then a childe,
My Master first was gentle, milde,
Yet after he would soundly pay
Me four or five times in a day:
[Page 6]
We men like fools are pleas'd with change,
And at the first new Wives are strange;
Fierce Mastifs that at home will fight,
Abroad will neither bark nor bite;
Weak Cocks away the stronger chase,
Till they be wonted to the place.
Thou never shalt her Nature know,
Till she with thee familiar grow.
Then maist thou finde true old complaints,
Some wives look like, that prove no Saints.
Before the Sun comes round about,
Thy certainty may turn to doubt,
And Hymen now so frolick grown,
In other Posture may be shown.
For mine own part I do not fear,
My Wife will hold out all the year:
For certain she is straight and right,
The same at morning, noon and night.
I wish she prove to thy desire,
That all our Wives may her admire,
For sure most Wives are like the Moon,
That alters Morning, Night, and Noon,
She never doth from changing cease,
But is in Wanes, or in Encrease;
Yet let it not to thee seem strange,
Thou feel'st not sensibly her change:
Thou seest not shadows how they move,
Till Motion plain it self doth prove:
Observe her well, thy wife will clear
This Paradox within the year.
Thou find'st such faults in married life,
I wonder why thou took'st a Wife.
Sure ev'n as thine, it was my Fate,
And now Repentance comes too late,
[Page 7]
Some manage can the curstest Dog,
The Ape makes merry with his clog,
The Haggard proves best once reclaim'd,
And mettal'd Horses rightly tam'd.
I freely for my part protest,
Of all I know mine likes me best,
And I should take it for a curse,
To make a change, and have a worse.
And truly, not to be her debtor,
Not one of twenty hath a better:
Yet for her sake I cannot strain,
To say 'tis fair when it doth rain;
Before I Amo can decline,
All Well breaks up, the Sun doth shine.
Fate ne'r good haps by handfuls brings,
From out the bad we pick good things.
Oh now thou cogg'st for fear or favour,
We'l binde thee to thy good behaviour:
It much doth go against my minde,
To hear least ill of woman-kinde:
Delights of youth, for Middle-age
Companions, Nurses for the Sage!
So necessary are all good Wives,
Not one amongst a hundred thrives
Without them; They preserve at home
Whatsoever from abroad doth come.
Some call them tackled Ships and Barges,
Some as they count them Bills of Charges;
Some the Armies Baggage, Stuffe and Tents,
Most usefull, yet Impediments;
And they that on their tongues dare jest,
With Aesope call them worst and best.
In fine, all scruples to remove,
The Best and Worst are as they prove.
Mine proves already passing well.
You me another Tale may tell
Some twelvemonth hence, God give you joy,
And ere that send a goodly Boy.
Which being wean'd, the Summer after,
God send me like my Wife a Daughter.

The third Eglogue.

Speakers, Battus, Dorus.
GOod day, my Friend, how frolick dost thou fare?
Fresh chearfull Gallant free from worldly care,
As thou wert beaverd up with Ale and Cakes,
And fed with healing Flesh of Indian Snakes,
Wedlock abates the flesh, and fils the purse,
Sure thou hast got a Loving tender Nurse.
My Wife so she may keep the Purse,
Is sure a sweet indulgent Nurse,
And for me every Meal provides,
Twelve Dishes with good Sauce besides,
Four Fowl, four fruit; and four of Fish,
Come fuming on her Chafing-dish;
Her Woodcock, Bitter, Quail and Rail,
No season of the year do fail;
Her Carps, her Gudgeon, Lump and Pout,
She carves to all the Board about;
Her Fruit as Fish are ay in season,
Crab, Medlar, Artichoak, Small Reason,
Besides Green Sallets neatly drest,
Of which she Pursline liketh best;
And though I with such chear am fed.
I oft go supperlesse to bed:
[Page 9]
Where she for me alone unshown
Preserves a warm bit of her own,
To take for my best health and ease,
Ev'n, Morning, Midnight, as I please;
And if I Flesh refrain, her zeal
Boils up for me a Salmon-Peal:
Me trust, this is a true Relation,
No Bachelor hath such accomodation.
Sure thou dost live a gallant Lord-like life,
With such a curious Cater, Cook, and Wife;
Who raw, boil'd, bak't, she still with so small costs
Provides, and never fails to rule the Rost:
I could not think a Shepherds Swain were able
To furnish with such rarities his Table.
Batchelors get exceedings now and then,
But not such constant Meals as Married men,
They seldome have them in due time and place,
Or to them, after, or before say grace,
Fall to My Friends, be merry, do not spare,
You'l finde few married men have better Fare;
Who for his Friend prepares a costly Feast,
Himself harms more by half then good his Guest.
If as thou saist this be a Husbands diet,
Give me a dinner of green Herbs with quiet,
I better like one dish with single life,
Then all these choicest dainties with a Wife.
An Herd-boys life precedes a Ladies Page,
Give me full Flight, I hate a guilded Cage.
Ploughmen prefer their Pudding to a Banquet.
The Sow you well know what before a Pan-cake;
Bachelors have good things but oft misguided,
A Wife is neat and never unprovided:
Besides you take your Meals most what by halves,
And boast that change of Pasture makes fat calfs:
[Page 10]
But certain 'tis a Beast thrives best of all
Put off the Common to the severall:
A good Wife surely is a greater treasure,
Then all the choise and costly Dames of pleasure.
And I esteem my Phillida with measure
Above her thou dost count so rich a treasure:
Yet let it not my Friend to thee seem strange
Men are as Women often given to change,
A bone of Fish makes Flesh a better meal,
The changes alwayes is the sweetest peal;
A Pearch or Gudgion puld up by my hook
Tasts sweeter then a Pullet from the coop;
A Rook scarce fledg tak'n new out of the neast
Eats tend'rer then a Pheasant at a feast:
'Tis good advice to young men given to tarry,
And to an old man not at all to marry:
Certes my friend 'twould vex me to the life,
A Cuckold to be made by mine own Wife,
Whereof I by the Curtesie must stand
Seis'd for my term of Life as of her Land.
Wives are as Haggards, which Men lure at ease,
But they'l come in or lye out as they please:
We must be alwayes subject to their check,
And if wee'l stand in grace must come at beck;
Not sit up late at night not rise too soon,
Must sure come home at dinner just at noon,
Which hour she keeps, as Cynthia firm and steddy,
That is as soon as she is up and ready.
If she Recuse, to Church she must not come;
If shee'l to Church he must not stay at home;
And if the Fit or humour on her come,
Shee'l neither go to Church nor stay at home:
One bed holds both so long as they be One:
If out, th'whole house too streight's for her alone.
When 'tis her pleasure to go out and play,
New clothes must on and all keep Holy day;
[Page 11]
And when she home returns I'le do her right,
Shee'l make her maids sit up and work all night.
If thou alone into thy Study look,
She must come in and be thy only Book;
To be mine Almanack I well could bear,
So should I have a new one every year.
We of a certain Man do read, but no man
Did ever tell us of a certain Woman;
Yet this I do advertise all good fellowes,
To shun the fainting Fit they call the yellowes,
For which (besides it Men objects to scorn)
Wives know no cure but drink out of a Horn.
Upon my Oath our Justice without hearing,
For this would binde thee to thy good abearing,
His Wife for not reforming such a fault
Will never trust him more to grind her malt:
Now fie I am asham'd to hear thee preach
Of things which are so far above thy reach;
Like our Jack-daw, who when his News do fail
To his good Dames doth on his betters rayl,
Clay lands breeds whitest wheat so you it till,
That Wife is good that's not extremely ill;
Thou talk'st of Robinhood, thou dost not know
Nor ever yet shotst shaft out of his bow,
Why shouldst thou thy great Grandams Daughter snib,
Thou moulded art of durt, she of a rib,
Themselves their Husbands and their meat they dresse well,
Worst you can say, They are the weaker vessell;
Some praise, some blame thē, much adoe's about thē.
Few men can well live with them, none without thē.
Let me this story for our Teacher borrow,
To tell it at our meeting place to morrow;
For though he by th'whole hower can homely pray,
He little or nothing to his Text can say:
Set prayer he abhors as works of merit,
And method is too costive for his spirit;
[Page 12]
This matter's to his purpose who contrives
To be a powrefull man with all your Wives:
But lo the Sun clad in a scarlet gown
Looks biggest at us at his going down;
The Birds that early with his light arose,
Do wanting use of eyes their eye lids close.
If Sun sets in a cloud we shall have rain;
Look all our flocks are scattered on the plain.
Sweet Battus, prove it fair or rainy weather,
Lets fould our flocks though not our heads together,
Ile home and sleep in cottage void of strife.
And I in th'Arms of my sweet loving Wife.
To morrow I will come and see her Feast,
And welcome in good earnest or in jest;
But if thou would'st continue in her favour,
See thou be constant to thy good behaviour.
But what if I bring Tyterus along?
He can us sing a pastorall sweet Song.
In youth he could both caroll, dance and play,
But with his head, his wit begins to gray;
Like skillfull Lech his Patient he can please,
Yet be in open war with his disease:
Malignant humours purg'd by golden Pill
Improve a Wife by giving her her will.
When his Grand-master Melibaus died,
His Freaks and Frolicks all were laid aside.
Such mirth is most extreamly good at Feasts,
Some Fools are cur'd by precepts some by jests:
[Page 13]
His labours vain against the stream that strives,
Good Husbands only know to make good wives.

The fourth Eglogue.

Speakers, Battus, Dorus, Tyterus.
THis Morn my Wife and I did rise,
Before the Stars set in the skies.
Which made Aurora blush so red,
To see Sun up and she in Bed:
This mornings rednesse certainly declares,
This heat ere night will melt in Flouds of tears;
But whilest our Flocks are feeding here's a bowr,
In this fair Oak will shelter from a showr,
Whilest Tyterus whom I have brought alang,
Delights our Ears with Pastorall and Song.
In younger years (which I remember still)
I once lay flumbring on Parnassus Hill,
Where surely I a sounder nap had taken,
Had I not been with hideous noise awaken;
I thought of Wolves, but prov'd close by th [...] [...],
Fierce Mastifs full of jealousies and fears:
Upon fresh trail they bellow out like thunder,
And all within their dint like lightning plunder;
They cry in Kirk and State for Reformations,
Thereby to make ours their own Habitations;
They this pretend for good of all our Lambs,
Devouring all our Kiddys with their Dams;
God on the dwellings hath his justice shewn,
They that did covet ours have lost their own;
May never such devouring greedy hounds
Uncoupled be again on English grounds:
[Page 14]
Be's name to all posterity a scorn,
That first up to this hunt did winde his Horn.
What this to thee? these stirs far North were made,
Thou Tyterus laist safe here under shade.
It is my nature, I more inly groan,
For others sufferings, then at mine own:
My bowels yern, my heart within doth bleed,
To hear th'ill brought on them and their Seed.
I fear'd at first, thou out of discontent,
Hadst shot thy Bolt 'gainst present Government.
I loathe to make my Governors a mark,
No gentle dog will at his Keeper bark,
They certain that above the Stern do steer,
Great Atlas burthens on their shoulders bear,
I envy not the States that highest be,
Let me enjoy my self and conscience free;
The Pow'rs that are, be by the Heavens ordain'd,
And none but by that Pow'r can be maintain'd:
They feed my Lamb from Wolves and Tigers, I
Can scarce preserve them from the Fox and Fly;
These and the like so heavily me presse,
For Muse scar'd ne're put on comely dresse;
I brake my Pipe, forbear my Lute to string,
So as in tune I have forgot to sing.
Yet Tyterus to ymp the wings of Time
Thou happily remember maist some Rimes
In praise of Wives, for thou hast married three,
For Battus two, too many, three for me,
He hath but one, and would learn how to use her,
I none, and therefore fain would learn to chuse her.
We old men most ambitious are to tell,
Of what in youth we think we have done well,
[Page 15]
Then give me leave to tell you mine own Story,
Not for mine own but for the praise and glory
Of all good Wives; who from what I relate
May take a Patern mine to imitate:
Most edifying Stories are the Lives
Of Saints and Martyrs, so of all good Wives;
I being young and of my self inclin'd
To add a second body to my minde,
First by the Eyes was catcht, then by the Ears,
For that admir'd sweet consort of the sphears,
To Hers fictitious was; an Angels voice
In Ivory case did ev'n my soul rejoyce;
A Western gale blew me on this good hap
Jove never showr'd gold in a softer lap.
Our wooing was not long, mine and her friends,
Our fancies had dispos'd to self same ends,
So I soon that great Kesars fortune run
I came, I saw her and was overcome.
No sooner I enjoy her but I finde
Her beauteous out-side was unto her minde
No other then a prison, which the rays
Of Light Celestiall all within begays,
To hear her talking was a miracle,
Yet all she uttered was an Oracle;
With sweetest gracefull looks she all would teach,
A good Divine she was yet would not preach;
So pious that mine heart began to faint,
Fearing I for a Wife had got a Saint.
Is't strange some Wives should be good Preachers seen?
This Land was lately by a Maiden-Queen
In peace maintain'd full fourty years and more,
So Sheba, Carthage, Swedes; and many a score;
Your Abbesses do catechise and preach,
Their Nuns as them rare works and manners teach.
Such Halcyon daies nere were nor shall be seen,
As in the Reign of that most glorious Queen.
No fear of that I oft have heard it said,
She-Saints abroad do prove best wives in Bed;
Your strictest Matrons upon such a motion,
We'l cool in zeal and lay by their devotion;
I for most certain will relate a Story,
One took a Sister by the Directory,
Whose Brother dying and she left his Heir,
He wedded her by Book of Common Prayer;
By which is plainly given to understand,
Lesse danger is in losing Wives then Land.
Fie Dorus, thou art much too blame to clatter,
And tell a Story nothing to the matter;
It argues them of spight and insolence,
To interrupt the good Wives Evidence.
Shee free obedience offered me as Head,
I her all Honour at my board and bed;
She wholsome meat, not costly, made my diet,
My Coat was even a Paradise of quiet:
When 'mongst the shepheardesses she was seen,
All justly her adored as their Queen:
She as dear Sisters them did use and call,
And in sweet humblenesse out-went them all;
When in a round they sate them down to sing,
She treble was and Diamond in the Ring:
My Coats chief Ornament by day by night,
The golden Candlestick whence issues light;
If ought she saw in others worth her heed,
She practis'd, and her patern aid exceed,
For she not only knew but practis'd all
The graces grown in her habituall.
If she transcended so in word and deed,
Why is she gone and left none of her breed?
Heavens would not so much for one mortall do
As give him such a Wife and Children too,
A losse not portable, but that we plain
Discern our losse was her immortall gain;
The God of Life when he did her deny
A pow'r to live, most willing made to die.
Fye fit thou art too serious once I win,
I heard thee tell then on a merry pin,
Of managing young Colts and younger wives
By gentle handling; who with either strives,
Against their will, if they at their first taming,
Get but a trick is difficult reclaming;
When thou hadst got within the Stable door,
Thy Colt, thou first his Saddle laidst before
Him in the Manger, then didst it on set
To make him proud, ere thou presumest to get
Up to his back, thou clawd'st him on the breast,
And often clap't and coak'st him on the crest,
And to secure from kicking would'st not fail,
To stroak and softly pull him by the tail;
When thou had'st mann'd him then thy foot
Before thou mount oft in the stirrup put:
Yet foftly, lest him suddenly surprisng,
Thou shouldst provoke to kicking back or rising;
Thus up thou without stick or spur wouldst prove,
How with thee as one body he could move,
And fitting sure and easie in the Saddle,
Thee jots no more then in a Couch or Cradle,
And prancing under's load takes as great pleasure,
As thou to ride, so thou put on with measure:
So of a kitten teach a Cat to play,
She will be loving to her dying day.
[Page 18]
But feed an old one that thou didst not hatch,
She'l churlish grow and by the fingers scratch:
That Wives well learn'd in tongues thereby became
More crafty, as young Foxes bred up tame,
And therefore all young Shepheards didst advise,
To take no Maids from th'Universities,
Which Scholars did with so much Logick fill,
They would by Syllogisms maintain their will,
Nor heir to Land, for they will by their own
Revenues make their will and pleasure known;
Such Emblems home appli'd, would edifie
Us and our Wives,
apply't thy self, not I;
Such were the Observations of my youth,
Which now I see are taken up for truth,
To sport with Muses I do oft take leave,
The miseries of old age to deceive,
An ounce of mirth when I the time can spare,
Is better then a pound of grief and care.
This of thy second wife, how proud the first?
Then all for better taken were and worst,
That which at first her friends and she did fear,
Was manifest to us within the Year;
A Hectick Feaver her deni'd of breath,
She was unparellel'd in Life and Death.
What of thy third?
My Friend 'tis not the Fa­shion,
To praise the 'live with Funerall Oration,
Her heart I ought bedew with double tears,
As she with me hath doubled both their years;
If fates require that I shall stay behinde her,
I shall commend of her then as I finde her,
Neat, prudent, frugall, bountifull and grave:
Sure thou intendest a fourth wife to have.
Soft Bat. For Tityrus I'le undertake,
He'l never wed another for her sake;
But lo the Sun comes to his Zenith nighest,
And least appears now he is mounted highest:
But I beleeve it with thy wife is noon
Her dinner's drest betime she rose so soon.
Come Tityrus thou must see her daily Feasts,
Where we shall finde more dishes far then guests.
Two dishes are a plentifull repast.
There will be more then thou canst wish to taste;
But lo, I Westward see the Welkin lowrs,
Before thy wife hath din'd there will be showrs.
'Tis not the first time I have thus been wet,
Make haste, the Dishes on the Board are set.
Great Pan himself had never such a dinner,
Prepar'd him at the charges of a spinner;
She comes, let's first salute this comely Bride,
Then Tityrus shall sit down by her side:
We with our mirth will make thy Cottage ring,
So will we make this dinner for a King.

Some of Tityrus's Songs then sang by Dorus.

A Mandee to Grammar Scholars.

1 TO them that truly Learning prize and love,
I wish each twig,
Sweet as a Fig,
The Ferula as soft as kidskin glove.
2 In time of Seed no cost or labour spare,
Who soweth cheap,
Shall never reap
Things admirable excellent and rare.
3 One hour in in youth well spent may go for two,
When we grow old,
Our Studie's cold;
The things we learn in youth, in age we do.
4 Loaves heavy prove that rise not in the Dough:
Flow'rs in the prime,
In far lesse time
Then they in Summer or in Autumn grow.
5 Look but before you plainly shall descry,
Honours attend
On them that spend,
Their youth in sacred Muses company.
6 When they that follow worldly vain delight,
In folly spend,
What Heav'ns do send,
And set in mists of sad obscured night.
7 Hence younger Brethers by their studies raise,
Their Houses name
To Height of fame
And build brave Monuments of lasting praise.
8 Which th'Elder finding ready built to hand
Their Genius please,
In Sloth and Ease,
Or waste in pride and riot, Goods and Land.
8 Wherefore to him that truly Learning loves,
In stead of twigs,
I wish sweet Figs,
For Ferula's perfumed Kidskin Gloves.

To his little Valentine.

A Pair of Gloves of Lamb-skin leather fine,
I will bestow upon my Valentine.
Who is as milde and gentle as a Lamb,
For why? she suck'd no other from her Dam;
As white and clear as Lilly of the Valley,
Apt to delight, to leap, to bound, to dally,
How like a Lamb, she only doth not creep,
And there's good hope she'l never prove a Sheep;
For so she should degenerate from her Mother:
To such, if thou be wise, sue, to none other.

To his Mistresse.

AS I in me, my Mistresse fair did see,
A picking Pipridges, my heart then free
She stole away: Ah! knew she what she did?
Picking and stealing is by death forbid.

To the same.

WHen I my love to Myra tell,
She answers alway well, well, well;
That you can speak well I do know,
But I'de fain learn how you will do.

A Song.

APocryphal are Stories not the Lives,
Of valiant Judith and Susanna chaste;
They have and shall be Paterns for good Wives,
So long as any Womanhood shall last.
No name like Sarah's is so dignifi'd,
By Moses in his world-creating Story,
He tels her Beauty, Tomb, what age she di'd,
Obedience to her Lord her greatest glory.
But none th'Almighty doth so much regard
As his meek Handmaids Virgin-lowlinesse,
By whom He for His people that prepar'd,
For which all Generations shall Her blesse.
Rebecca, Leah, Ruth, Ʋriah's Wife,
Were silver Pipes for to convey the Seed
To this Conduct, whence sprang the Lord of Life,
Whose bruised heel should break the Serpents head.
All Stories reade over and o're again,
You'l finde more women bad then good of Men.
The Pride of Scholars is to prove good Readers,
The Crown of Women is to be good Breeders.

A Suitor to his Mistresse.

A Strea that left Earth to Heaven to flee,
Is now come back and Fair enshrin'd in thee,
Not to return, but stay and on me shine,
Inrich me thus, and all the world is mine:
Regard a mortal whose faint soul aspires,
Enlightned by the Beams celestiall fire;
(Compel'd to be thy Convert) but to look
His Lesson o're in thy sweet Beauties Book:
Oh't be my Heaven on Earth, may I obtain
Under thy Scepter this my highest aim,
The Golden Ball will prove lead to my gain.

An Epitaph.

THis Widow true to onely one mans side,
Might from her body count before she di'd
More Scions then be daies in longest year,
This Honywood did all these Hony-suckles rear.

His own Epitaph.

Haec suprema Dies sit mihi prima quies.
Lord let this last be my first day of Rest.

A Pair of Turtles. Viz. Two Elegies on the Deaths of EDMƲND ALLEYN Esquire, Son and Heir to Sir Edward Alleyn of Hatfield in Essex, Baronet, and MARY his Wife, left by him with Childe, and died soon after her Delivery.

The first Elegie.

THe times of War and Peace this difference have,
In Peace Sons Fathers follow to the grave;
In War the Father mourneth for the Son,
Here Peace and War do both agree in one.
And surely Tears more plentifully fall,
At Childrens then at Parents Funerall,
By which mans frailty's manifestly shown,
Who wail not others losses but our own:
For why should we with grief our hearts molest
For them who quite from cares now live at rest,
Or plain the shortnesse of their living day,
Who unto Heaven have found a nearer way;
And setting later out do on us gain
With running, like Ahimaaz by the Plain?
They that with diligence will heed their waies,
Attain their Journeys end in fewer daies
Then he that by his oft diversions spends
Much precious Time, in worlds delight and friends,
Or maketh in his Inne a longer stay,
Whereby his Reck'ning larger grows to pay.
If here on Earth we ought to lay up store
For Heaven, that our good deeds may go before,
What comfort will't be at our latter end,
When Children we before us thither send,
Who sitting by their sweetest Saviours side,
Us Mansions there, as we them here provide,
Or rather enter on the habitation
Provided for us, ere the worlds foundation:
Oh! what can adde to their felicity,
That see their Sons prefer'd before they die
To higher states, then wishes can advance
An endlesse glorious rich Inheritance?
Of which the
Son of Jacobs greatest glory
Was but a Type, this lasts, that's transitory.
In life thou never envied'st him content,
Then do not his last happinesse lament,
Who would not change his state one hour to get
The wealth and honour of a Baronet!
Beleev't thy Son is only gone before,
Thou him must follow, he'l return no more.
Then like that good old man thy soul revive,
Thou hast enough, thy Son is yet alive,
Heavens Chariots shall thee bring to Goshens plain,
Where thou shalt living see thy Son again.

The second Elegie.

WHat many ancient Histories relate
Of Turtles constant love unto their Mate,
She did exemplifie, and plainly prove,
There is no life in living, but in Love.
The misse whereof made her so much deplore
Her Turtles losse, who only went before:
Whom willing she had followed to the Tomb,
But for the Treasure left her in the Womb,
Which had it perished by such a crosse,
The world at once had suffer'd too much losse.
Now, like another Phenix of his seed,
She first another like her self doth breed.
Long didst thou look, and longing wish to move
Up to thy Loadstarre, which thou eyd'st above,
But couldst not rise so high, till thou wert light,
Then up to Heav'n to him thou tak'st thy flight,
As pure Steel needle ardently doth move
To Load-stone, wherewithall it is in love.
Why should'st thou thus go out before thy date,
And leave us to bewail thine early Fate?
That all our gain such Vertues to have known,
Turns losse so soon to see them from us flown:
As Vines best Clusters soonest off are pull'd,
And purest Gold from out the drosse is cull'd;
So oft the choisest Mortals in their prime,
May seem hence snatch'd away before their time.
But such fair Clusters on Heav'ns board are served,
The Gold to bear Gods image is preserved.
We here our sorrows breathe out to be read,
That she in them may live, when we are dead,
Who living well deserv'd she might die never,
And by her dying here, to live for ever.
Though both were short and sudden, her example
In Life and Death is as a Volume ample,
Where all may reade aright to live and die,
And follow her to true felicity.
But why speak I of Death? her Bodies frame
Is only turn'd to dust, her vertues fame
Like fumes of burning Cedar doth ascend,
And savour sweetest in her latter end.
Ay let her blessed memory remain,
To see if Wives hereafter can attain
To her perfection: And these sabled Rimes
Be paterns for good Wives in following times.
Thrice happy they that lay Corruption down,
To gain that rich incorruptible Crown,
Which them doth more assuredly attend,
Who like her live, and dying like her end.
And let one Tomb their ashes here contain,
Who liv'd and lov'd as sure to meet again.
They in the fair and in the stormy weather,
Do fly, cry, die, and lie together.
Our Daies are likened to a Tale that's told.
Which long and tedious grow as men grow old,
The yonger shorter tell: If Death once strike,
The long and shorter Tales close both alike.
I care not whether long or short I tell,
So I can hit it right and end it well.

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