A Crew of Kind Gossips all met to be merrie: Complayning of their Husbands, with their Husbands answeres in their owne defence. Written, and newly inlarged by S. R. [i.e. Samuel Rowlands] |
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 | A Crew of Kind Gossips |  |
To the Maydes of London.
Virgins, that liue your weary Mayden-liues,Wishing with all your heartes that you were Wiues,
Longing continually to heare it sayd,
This is last time of Asking; farewell Mayde.
Note heere your Sisters, that are gone before,
What holesome Gossips talke they haue in store,
Consider how their Husbands they abuse
Amongst their Cuppes, to finde each other newes:
Thinke whether there's not much discretion lackes,
When men are wronged thus behind their backes.
Obserue this Conference, suruey it all,
And iudge how kindest heartes are dealt withall,
Which when you shall perceiue (as t'is most plaine)
When you are Wiues, doe you the like refraine:
Abuse not Husbands at each Gossips feast,
When they (good harmelesse men) offend you least:
For if with any fault you can them touch,
It onely is, their louing you too much.
S. R.
A Crew of kind Gossips, all mette to be merrie.
My Maisters that are Married, looke about,
For matter of Complaint is comming out
Against your persons, stand vpon your gard,
Either your Wiues be bad, or you deale hard:
Your credites are in question very farre,
And now or neuer, either make or marre.
You are accus'd of many haynous thinges,
And swift Report hath very nimble winges,
It flyes about the Towne from eare to eare,
And most will credit euen all they heare.
VVhat will the world suppose, to haue your Wiues
Giue out, their Husbands liue such odious liues?
VVhat will our Batchelers and Maydens say,
That are preparing for their wedding day?
VVhy, they will censure of the married life,
To be a state full of Domesticke strife.
Stand to it stoutly, now as you are men,
First heare them speake, and shape an answere then:
They are no lesse then halfe a dozen strong,
Arm'd with such Tongues as will endure no wrong:
Sixe Gossips that of late togeather met,
Besprinckled finely, well with Clarret wet:
Apt to discourse of all that are they knew,
As tis the humor of the Gossip-crew,
Did finde themselues greatly agrieued all,
And each her Husband into question call.
The first of them, a gallant propper Dame,
With Tongue enough, and Courage to the same,
That dranke Carouses to the other fiue,
And had a care to see the Vintner thriue:
That had her Pint for Pint, her Quart for Quart,
Louing a cup of Clarret with her hart:
That scorn'd to be intreated for her Drinke,
But would hold out, when twenty Wenches shrinke;
And take her Cuppes, euen with a courage downe,
Play the Good-fellow kindly, spend her Crowne
VVith any she that durst, a merry Wife,
That neuer playde the Mizer in her life:
Onely her Husband did a humour see,
Which did not like him; she was too too free:
And that (indeed) will not doe very well,
For diuers reasons which a man might tell:
But we will leaue them to be thought vpon,
And turne her to her Tale; which thus goes on.
For matter of Complaint is comming out
Against your persons, stand vpon your gard,
Either your Wiues be bad, or you deale hard:
Your credites are in question very farre,
And now or neuer, either make or marre.
You are accus'd of many haynous thinges,
And swift Report hath very nimble winges,
It flyes about the Towne from eare to eare,
And most will credit euen all they heare.
VVhat will the world suppose, to haue your Wiues
Giue out, their Husbands liue such odious liues?
VVhat will our Batchelers and Maydens say,
That are preparing for their wedding day?
VVhy, they will censure of the married life,
To be a state full of Domesticke strife.
Stand to it stoutly, now as you are men,
First heare them speake, and shape an answere then:
They are no lesse then halfe a dozen strong,
Arm'd with such Tongues as will endure no wrong:
Sixe Gossips that of late togeather met,
Besprinckled finely, well with Clarret wet:
Apt to discourse of all that are they knew,
As tis the humor of the Gossip-crew,
Did finde themselues greatly agrieued all,
The first of them, a gallant propper Dame,
With Tongue enough, and Courage to the same,
That dranke Carouses to the other fiue,
And had a care to see the Vintner thriue:
That had her Pint for Pint, her Quart for Quart,
Louing a cup of Clarret with her hart:
That scorn'd to be intreated for her Drinke,
But would hold out, when twenty Wenches shrinke;
And take her Cuppes, euen with a courage downe,
Play the Good-fellow kindly, spend her Crowne
VVith any she that durst, a merry Wife,
That neuer playde the Mizer in her life:
Onely her Husband did a humour see,
Which did not like him; she was too too free:
And that (indeed) will not doe very well,
For diuers reasons which a man might tell:
But we will leaue them to be thought vpon,
And turne her to her Tale; which thus goes on.
The first Gossips Complaint.
Kind Gentlewomen, though I sport and iest,I haue small cause to doe it, I protest;
If you knew all the Crosses Fortune bringes,
Ah little doe you know where my Shoo wrings:
I am oft merry, and I cannot chuse,
If one should hang mee, pleasure I must vse:
Vnto the Prouerbe I doe still agree,
Care kil'd a Cat, so shall it not mee.
Yet I am husbanded with such a Clowne,
'Twould pull a merrier heart then mine is, downe:
His mind's of Money-bags, to fill them full:
There's nothing that comes from him with good will,
But he is euer grudging, grumbling still:
Let me but aske him somewhat for to spend
At such a time as this, with Friend and Friend;
His Purse will be a comming out so slow,
And such a dogged looke he will bestow,
VVith minde vnwilling going thereabout,
I could spend thrice as much ere it comes out.
Is this the way to please a womans minde,
That is vnto good fellow-ship inclin'de?
And neuer to this day regardeth drosse,
Sometime a Crowne, and sometime ne're a crosse:
To take allowance at a wretches hand,
Not hauing Gold and Siluer at command.
VVhom doth he spare for, we no Children haue?
Indeed he doth allow me to goe braue;
But that's his credit, full as much as mine,
And now and then at Meales a pint of wine:
Marry sir Muffe, yea, and Gra-mercy Horse,
I will haue more, by faire meanes, or by force:
I scorne to take allowance like a Child,
There's nothing got, when women be too mild.
This by my Sister Sara proue I can,
All London doth not yeeld a kinder man
Then Thomas is; yet at the first I know,
He did but vse her (as they say) so so.
But what did shee? Marry, grew somewhat stout,
And when he look't for kindnesse, loure and pout,
With Pish and Phew, no ioy (poore soule) I haue,
I could now wish, that I were in my Graue;
And then the Asse (her Husband) would intreate,
I prethe (sweet-Heart) what dost ayle my deare?
Why should this sorrow in thy lookes appeare?
Dost thou want anything, I prethe speake?
Then would she sigh, as if her heart would breake,
And make as though she wept, and rub'd her eyes,
Till her kind foole in earnest sits and cryes,
Protesting to doe ought that might her please:
Then laying open to him her disease,
She told him that her onely griefe of minde
Proceeded from hard vsage she did finde:
For other women (to her extreame care)
Were full of Money, when her purse was bare.
He hearing this, accounted it good hap,
And threw a bag of Angels in her lap:
Then tooke her by the hand, and (kissing) swore,
While he had Coyne, she should complaine no more:
So to this day, his honest word doth keepe,
Onely because his Wife did sit and weepe,
Now which of vs will not almost doe so,
Our teares are cheape and plenty, you doe know,
For be it spoke in secret twixt vs heere,
A penny for a pottle is too deere.
Well, I intend to try my Sisters tricke;
Ile first be sullen, after Ile be sicke:
And if one after t'other will not doo,
I will be sullen, sicke, and dogged too,
And chafe, and pout, and loure, and fret, and sweat,
And in a weeke not touch a bit of Meat:
And when my Husbands tongue he still doth hold,
Then I will be most apt to braule and scold;
Ile hold my peace, and (frowning) looke awry.
These are the Rules that I intend to keepe,
A Shroe is ten times better then a Sheepe.
The Husbands Answers in their owne defence.
The first Husbands Answere.
There is an ancient Prouerbe vs'd of old,The first tale's good, vntill the next be told:
A Lyers tongue, is tearmed Falshoods mint,
We haue been slandered by our Wiues in print,
Yet haue been silent it appeares too long,
The world may censure we haue done them wrong,
Because with silence it hath past away.
But Gentlemen, now giue vs leaue, I pray
To vse Apologie, and by no meanes
Giue credit to such cunning crafty Queanes:
For they haue slandred vs, vpon our liues;
The case may be your owne, if you haue wiues:
And therefore be not partially inclin'd,
But heare the matter with indifferent minde.
A Tauerne for their parly they did chuse,
And there (forsooth) as pratling Gossips vse,
Like Catoes wife, they presently be led,
To vtter all that comes into their head.
And first my Ione, (a very prating Dame)
Of sparing, and of hardnesse, doth me blame:
She wanteth Money (as she sayes) to spend:
My Purse (she sayes) is slowly comming out,
But her Hand is too nimble thereabout;
Sheele set it going, she can make it flye,
And if I speake, she answeres, What care I?
Ile be maintayned Gentle-woman like:
Then bendes her fist as if she meant to strike,
That sometime I am glad to speake her faire
For quietnesse: and tis an honest care,
To haue commaund, onely by manly carriage,
For I doe know the ciuill warres of Marriage
Too well, by diuers of my Neighbours liues,
That are ore-matcht in combat with their Wiues;
Blowes therefore we doe neuer put in vre,
But a Shrowes tongue I daily doe indure.
Giue mee some Money; Money is her song,
She loues to be a spending all day long.
Housholders iudge, if all thinges be not deare,
She gets me not a Penny in a yeare,
And spendes me pounds a weeke, yet still complaines.
That neuer taketh any other paines
But starch a Ruffe, and sit and pricke a clout,
Then walke abroad; this worke she goes about.
Shall I maintaine an ydle Huswife so?
There's not an honest man but will say no.
Hee that doth let his wife haue what she will,
Being a Foole, sheele keepe him Woodcocke still.
No, Ile be Head, my title Ile not lose,
Shee's well maintaind, as all my Neighbours knowes:
Nay, Ile be sworne it makes my Purse-strings cracke,
To ruffle her in her pride, and gowne her backe:
She hath six Gownes for wearing ne're the worse,
But tis her humour, and it must be thus;
Pride pleaseth them, how ere it pincheth vs:
There's not a new-found toy, if once they craue it,
Poore Husbands shall not rest vntill they haue it.
The Second Gossips Complaint.
Next to the first, a second neate one sat,Which tooke a cup of Wine, & dranke vp that:
Then filling it vnto another, sayd,
Ah, wish I could, that I were yet a Mayde.
We are so forward in our youth, you know,
When past a dozen yeares we once doe grow,
We long, and wish, and looke, and dayly thinke
For you know what, Cupid is meate and drinke
Vnto our hungry thoughts, his prayse we sing:
Forsooth a Husband is your onely thing.
Poore foolish Girles, we know not what we doe,
But take a pride when Fellowes come to woe,
Ile tell you one thing, but no words Ile haue,
I know I speake it to the wise and graue:
VVhen I was Mayde, with Chalke behind our doore,
Some fiue and fourty Sutors I did score:
And I would vse the Fooles alike (all kinde)
For which, continuall fauours I did finde:
Ile tell you trueth, the Gloues which some did giue,
Are more then I can weare out while I liue.
Each was resolu'd, he did my loue possesse;
For like a crafty queane (I must confesse)
I gaue kind words, and smiles, and kisses too,
And thinges that shalbe namelesse I did doo:
I haue not bin the first, nor shall be last
Of waggish Wenches: for when we are gone,
There's little ones new bred, are growing on.
But (in good sadnesse) I am plagued now
For all my knauery, Ile tell you how.
Of all my choyse (for fourty fiue was plenty)
I tooke a Clowne, the very worst of twenty,
Indeed he doth allow me Coyne at will,
For to belye the Diuell it is ill:
But heere's his fault, hee'le crosse me many a way,
When I would haue my humour, he sayes nay.
Let mee bid one doe this, hee sayes doe that,
My wife talkes often-times she knowes not what:
Yea, when that many strangers are in place,
Hee's not asham'd to offer this disgrace;
For which, we two haue often fallings out,
And sometimes at the fists we haue about.
I care not greatly whosoere it know,
If he strike mee, Ile match him blow for blow;
For though he be my head (as people talke)
About his pate my fist sometimes doth walke;
He shall haue euen as good as he doth bring,
I will not dye in's debt for any thing.
Vnto my parents I do seeme the liker,
For well I wot, my Mother was a striker:
And I haue seene her take my Father downe,
That he was euen affraid to see her frowne.
He would sometime come wrangling in a dore,
But when my Mother with a cudgell swore,
And sayd but to him, Richard shall I come?
Why present he had not a word but Mum,
That same tricke will I haue another day:
For if I meet with one that's like my Father,
Ile take no blowes, Ile see him hanged rather.
Indeed I finde my Husband but a bragger,
His humour is, he will a little swagger,
And seemes as if he were Knight of the Sunne.
But let me stand to him, and he hath done.
At first (indeed) he put me in a feare,
When as I heard him but begin to sweare:
Then spake I faire, and to him was right kinde,
Thinking to put him in a better minde,
I tride him thus a while, but t'was a wonder
How he would dominiere, and keeke me vnder.
Nay then (quoth I) Ile try my Mothers tricke,
And valiantly tooke vp a Faggot-sticke.
(For he had giuen me a blowe or twaine)
But as he likes it, let him strike againe
The blood ran downe about his eares, apace,
I brake his head, and all bescratch't his face:
Then got him downe, and with my very fist
I did bepommell him vntill he pist.
So from that houre vnto this present day,
He neuer durst begin another fray:
But is content to let all fighting cease,
A Faggot-sticke hath bound him to the peace.
The Second Husbands Answere.
Maisters, you heare my Huswife wantes her will,She tels her Gossips I doe vse her ill:
And yet she doth confesse that I am kinde,
Yet that's not all the Gentlewomans longing,
Theres other matters to her humours wronging.
She would be Maister to command in all,
Doe what she list; checke mee: marry and shall.
She sayes, I crosse her; but she crosses mee
In my affayres, still busie she will be:
I must yeeld her account whither I goe,
In euery thing, Good-man why doe you so?
This likes not mee, prethee let's haue it thus,
I scorne to see my neighbour put downe vs;
VVe will haue Plate as rich as they haue any,
And yet not be beholding for a penny.
How like an Asse my foolish Husband goes?
Buy me a Sattin Doblet to them Hose.
I can be well content with going plaine,
But that my wife is of another vaine:
She sweares she will go braue, I shall maintaine her,
Or 'tis an argument I doe disdaine her;
And that her onely care to goe so fine,
Is but for credit both of hers and mine.
Indeed by this my credit sure is tride,
For I owe Money to maintaine her pride.
VVith Mercers Bookes I am acquainted still,
And large I furnish out the Toylors Bill.
This is the onely credit that I get,
For Brauery to run my selfe in debt.
And when I tell her priuate twixt vs two,
VVife let's be wise, these courses will not do,
You doe not goe according to my purse,
In Parish charges I shall speed the worse,
VVe must be wise, if you farre meaner went,
But mee? Therefore goe to your husbands minde,
And I shall take it (Loue) most wondrous kinde.
Oh on the sodaine how sheele rage and sweare,
That none in London baser minde doth beare,
Sheele call me Gull, and sit her downe and cry,
Then out in tearmes, What cursed hap had I?
VVeary I am of this same wretched life,
VVouldst thou haue me goe like an Oyster wife?
Oh scuruy minded man, I euen scorne thee,
And could finde in my heart base slaue to ( ) thee,
Goest thou about to offer this disgrace?
I would that I had neuer knowne thy face;
VVhen first I saw thee, surely I was mad,
For choyce of fourteene propper men I had;
Yea, euen as handsome creatures to mine eye,
As ere were girt in Girdles, (t'is no lye)
And yet I left them all, to marry thee.
VVhat greater crosse then this, could light on mee,
To haue a Fellow grumbling at me still,
And all I haue, comes from him 'gainst his will:
O wretch, O Lob, who would be thus beclown'd?
I deserue better for two hundred pound.
Two hundred pound in Gold my Father gaue,
To match me with this miserable Knaue,
Whom with my very heart I doe disdaine:
Oh would my bargaine were to make againe,
Then I would flaunt it, I would cut it out,
And wiser, ere I leapt would looke about:
I would haue none, but I would make him sweare,
That when I list, I might the Breeches weare:
My Sisters life is happy, I may say,
She sayes, in's life he neuer gaue her checke,
But can haue any thing euen with a becke:
And why not I attaine the like degree,
That am as proper (I am sure) as shee?
Nay, and a little fairer too, I know,
Who sees both Faces, he will sweare 'tis so,
But well, within my head I haue a tricke,
Some haue their Foreheads swell that be not sicke:
Ile haue my will to be maintain'd in all,
And if one will not, then another shall.
Maisters, how like you this? iudge I beseech,
(On Monday last this was her very speech)
Nay, and she standes vnto it wondrous bold.
The first tale's good, vntill the next be told,
Vpon my life, this is a womans vaine,
To wrong her Husband first, and then complaine.
The Third Gossips Complaint.
Well done in truth, yea, and gra[illeg.] mercy Besse,Would I had part of thy braue valiantnesse;
I lacke it Wench, (in sadnesse) very much:
For I haue one all Hell affords none such,
He vseth me in all things as he list,
Oh that I could but rule him with my fist,
As thou doest thine: how happy should I be,
If I had but a courage like to thee;
It grieues me to the hart I cannot doe it.
Nature hath not enabled me vnto it:
I haue as tall a tongue as others haue,
And can affoord him Rascall, drunkard, knaue,
The veryest Calfe that euer went to grasse,
Block-headed buzzard, and a hundred like,
But I could neuer haue the heart to strike.
If that I durst once venter for to beate him,
As in mine anger I could euen eate him,
In conscience I might be his Maister sure,
If I the tryall of it durst endure.
Sometimes me thinkes I could a cudgell take,
But then my very heart begins to quake,
For to my selfe my inward thoughts do speake,
My husband is too strong, and I too weake:
Which makes me often wish I had the power
To make my selfe a man but halfe an hower,
That so I might reuenge my selfe awhile,
I would be talkt of many a hundred Mile
For valour, I should make him tremble then,
And be example vnto other men.
Oh I would teach my dominiering youth,
To strike a woman while he liu'd, in truth.
One time he came home drunke, and then thought I,
Now for to cudgell him I will goe try:
His case was then so weake he could not stand,
And I might easie get the vpper hand:
But I conceiu'd 'twill turne vnto my sorrow,
The drunken foole would thinke vpon't to morrow:
And then I shall be sure to pay for all,
I know the weakest must vnto the wall.
This made me very fearefull to proceed,
And for my life I durst not doe the deed:
But in his way I set a little Stoole,
And ouer that, downe comes my reeling foole:
For I am sure it mortified his shins;
And then I seem'd to be exceeding sad.
Saying, deare Husband, what a fall you had?
Giue me your hand that I may helpe you rise;
And tooke a Handkerchiefe, and wip't mine eyes,
As if that I had wept for very griefe,
Being my selfe the causer of it chiefe:
But of a troth (as you may well beleeue)
I laugh't most brauely at it in my sleeue.
And then into a Chaire I did him set,
Asking him, if a Chirurgion should be fet,
And tying of a Kirchiefe 'bout his hed,
I left him fast a sleepe and went to bed:
All this I did to please in outward showes,
Being my pollicy to scape from blowes.
But the next morning in his sobernesse,
I rang his eares a peale, you'le hardly gesse
Thou filthy beast (quoth I) hast thou no shame,
To make thy selfe a common laughing game?
Art thou a man thus to abuse thy Wife?
Assuredly, 'tis pitty of thy life.
I sit all day euen like a prisoner heere,
And thou com'st home laden with Wine and Beere,
And if I tell thee for thy good thereof,
(Like all lewd Knaues) good counsell thou do'st scoffe.
My tongue thou tearmest but a Serpents sting:
Thus doth the Diuell lead thee in a string,
Thou hast no power good motions to imbrace:
Cam'st thou not home last night in scuruy case,
Bleeding, and hurt, my sorrow to prouoke?
It were no matter if thy necke were broke.
And then he at my head a Cushion threw;
Saying, there Skold, take somewhat for thy paines.
Goe too (quoth I) y'are best beat out my Braines
With Cushions now, to make the Prouerbe true:
Then out goes hee to meet the cursed crue,
And to inquire who t'was did hurt him so;
But Ile keepe that (my Wenches) close, I trow.
The third Husbands Answere.
Beware a Widdow, Oh that I were free,Such mischiefe neuer more should light on mee:
Ile pawne my heart, yea euen my dearest blood,
Not one amongst fiue hundred that prooues good.
They are not kind, they cannot right be sayd,
To haue such pure affection as a Mayde:
Ile stand to it, and bring my Wife to sweare it,
And Batchelers beleeue it, you that heare it,
Though I (till death doe bayle me) am fast bound,
(Would t'were to morrow for fiue hundred pound)
Yet by my harmes, I would haue you escape,
That haue a Diuell in a Womans shape:
A Woman-diuell, and a Diuel-wife,
That makes me weary of a Husbands life.
I cannot speake with tongue, nor write with pen,
The wofull state of such distressed men
As I my selfe; yet somewhat may suffice,
To paint her in this Paper to your eyes:
That those which with such creatures would be doing,
May by my Patterne, goe to Hell a woing.
She is most impudent, and shamelesse bold,
When she is vp, she rayles me out of dore,
When I come in, she rayleth ten times more:
If I intreate her, she will sweare and curse,
If I say nothing, she growes worse and worse:
I am as patient as a man can be,
When this vile woman thus tormenteth me.
If I be hungry and demaund some meate,
Sheele wish me choak't with the next bit I eate,
Then with a dogged countenance will say,
Spight of my heart I shall her leysure stay.
If I do reason mildly with her then,
For euery word I speake, she giues me ten,
And tels me of her t'other husbands praise,
With whom she liued all her happy dayes,
That he would weepe, euen at her finger ake,
And to content her any paines would take.
He was the kindest louing man aliue,
And day and night to please his wife would striue:
Then wishes in his graue with him she lay,
Amen, thinke I, that were my happy day.
For sure a man that's mach't with such a wife,
Hath but two happy dayes in all his life.
The first of them's the day whereon they marry,
For then the thing for which they long did tarry,
With wishing and much expectation still,
Is with great ioy effected to their will.
The second merry day we married haue,
Is when our wiues are carried to their graue:
For we are freed from former thraldome then,
And shaking of the yoke, become free men.
Then we may ioy that we haue got release,
When Serpent dies, adue poyson and sting?
When my wife's gone, farewell venomous thing.
But that's not like to be a long time yet,
Death is too slow in challenging his debt,
Such happinesse to me it will not bring,
She will liue longer then a better thing.
The other day a cunning prancke she plaide,
One of her Gossips she brought to perswade,
That I should furnish her in hast to ride
Vnto a Gentlewoman, neere allyed
Vnto my wife; to see her being sicke:
I did it, but was couz n'd by the tricke,
It was her Cozen as they both gaue out;
But sure they kindred made of me, I doubt,
I sent one after them to be my spy,
An honest feind I know, that will not lye:
He sayes both Gentleman, and country Boore,
Abroad report my Cozen is a Whore,
And she hath gallants haunt her farre and neare:
What should my wife and her consort doe there?
No goodnesse sure? a mischiefe take them both:
To weare a paire of Hornes I would be loth.
But who can helpe, the deed once being done,
It is a threed so close with cunning spun,
But Maisters, keepe it secret I doe pray,
Doe not acquaint my wife with what I say:
Harke in your eare, If I can prooue her so,
Ile be diuorc'd, and farewell all my woe:
I doe intend to let her haue full scope,
And then a Whore will prooue a Whore I hope:
Let her keepe company with whom she list,
Let her not care into what sinne she sinkes,
Ile come vpon her when she little thinkes:
And where she takes me for a silly Mome,
For all her knau'ry, then Ile pay her home.
The fourth Gossips Complaint.
VVell Gentlewomen (sayd the fourth) I seeYou haue great reason to complaine (all three)
Vpon your Husbands, they are bad indeed;
But I haue one (in conscience) doth exceed:
The chiefest thing wherein he takes delight,
Is to be vp at Dice and Cardes all night.
He is a Gamester, though no Cocke of game,
For I doe finde he doth his businesse lame,
In things (you know my meaning) scant worth prayse,
But fast and welcome, as a number sayes;
Al's one for that, my care hath euer bin,
Because he will not stay a nights within,
But runneth still abroad from place to place,
Wasting away his Money lewd and base:
His Gamesters companies heele not refuse,
For all the milde behauiour I can vse;
Intreat him, kind deare Husband play no more,
And speake him faire vntill my tongue be sore:
Request him, if in loue with Cardes he bee,
That he would play at Noddy but with mee:
Or if he loue the Tables so a life,
Why then to play at Nublets with his wife.
No, no, t'is death vnto him, out he must,
Novum and Passage, scoure his Mettall bright,
New-cut euen makes a Begger of him right.
Looke, heere's the best Apparrell that I haue,
The very Wedding Gowne my Father gaue:
He neuer gaue me yet a paire of Gloues,
I am beholding more to others loues
Then vnto him, in honest manner tho,
And (Gossips) I beseech you take it so.
There are kind Gentlemen, some two or three,
And they indeed my louing Kinsmen bee,
Which will not see me want, I know it I,
Two of them at my house in Terme time lie,
And comfort me with iestes and odde deuice,
When as my Husband's out a nights at Dice:
For if I were without a merry Friend,
I could not liue a twelue-month to an end:
One of them gaue me this same Ruffe of Lawne,
It cost three pound, but last weeke in the Pawne.
Doe y'thinke my Husband would haue bin so free?
Alas he neuer made so much of mee.
Nay, t'other day at Church I spide a Hat,
My minde and eye was neuer off from that,
The onely fashion to content alone;
Yet thinke you he would buy me such a one,
No, I protest, but when I made the motion;
Oh wife (sayd he) pray where was your deuotion?
Goe you to Church to finde new fashions out?
Is this the exercise you are about?
In that same sacred place (ordaind for Prayer)
Are you so voyd of feare and deuout care?
How now (quoth I) heere's Vice will Folly teach,
What haue we heere: a mortified man?
Is Dice and Cards become a puritan?
Oh admarable change, I pray New-cut,
Into what gratious humor are you put?
And thus I fitted good-man counterfeit,
For he had put me in a chafing heat,
And surely being mou'd, I home can speake;
Some wit I haue, a Knauish iest to breake.
My husband he was husht, and went his way,
The Cox-combe Asse had not a word to say:
But out a doores he got exceeding grim,
Twas next day noone ere I set eyes on him.
This man will talke full well, and speake of heauen,
Yet leaues his louing wife at sixe and seauen:
Goes forth one day, and commeth home the next,
To proue this lawfull, sure he hath no text.
Wel, ere the weeke do end, I make no doubt,
But we shall haue another falling out,
Ile crosse him he was neuer better crost,
And put him in a heat against the frost
For that same Hat, wherein he did me wrong,
(As you know what it is when women long)
He shall repent it (marke what I do say)
Ten times within a twelue month and a day,
Ile keepe the rest of that I haue intended,
A little saide (they say) is soone amended,
But euen as true as I was borne a Maid,
I owe him that good turne which shall be paid.
The fourth Husbands Answere.
My prating Gossip must haue answere next,I beyond reason with a Wife am vext,
At first a Begger, once scarce worth a Lowse,
Whom I haue made the Mistris of my house:
Euen my Mayde, a very Kitchin drudge,
Of whose conditions I intreat you iudge.
Dayly till ten a clocke a bed she lyes,
And then against her Lady-ship doth rise,
Her Mayde must make a Fire, and attend
To make her ready, then for Wine sheele send,
(A morning pint) she sayes her stomack's weake,
And counterfeits as if she could not speake,
Vntill eleuen, or a little past;
About which time, euer she breakes her fast:
Then (very sullen) she will pout and loure,
And sit downe by the Fire some halfe an houre.
At twelue a clocke her dinner time she keepes,
Then gets into her Chaire, and there she sleepes
Perhaps till foure, or somewhat thereabout,
And when that lazie humour is worne out,
She cals her Dogge, and takes him in her lap,
Or falles a beating of her Mayde (perhap)
Or hath a Gossip come to tell a tale,
Or else at me sheele curse, and sweare, and raile;
Or walke a turne or two about the Hall,
And so to supper and to bed; heeres all
The paines she takes: and yet I doe abuse her,
But no wise man I thinke, so kind would vse her:
I am a Foole to suffer that I doe,
I cannot chuse but yeeld vnto her still,
This makes bad wiues to haue their will:
And thus they grow from euill vnto worse,
Yet when I do intend another course,
It will not be, she shewes her cunning art,
It ouer-comes my honest, true, kind heart:
Sometimes her lookes will carry such a sway,
That for my life I cannot say her nay:
Sometimes her teares do charme me in such wise,
That I giue credit to deceiuing eyes.
Sometimes her words in such great force do stand,
I yeeld to euery thing she doth demaund:
And sometimes her out-ragious madding fits,
Makes me as mad as she, beside my wits.
And where she sayes, I am a Gamester, sirs,
'Tis but a villanous deuice of hers,
That men should of this hard opinion be,
If that we doe not thriue, 'tis long of me.
Beleeue it not, alas it doth appeare,
That I play scarce at Tables in a yeare:
Dice I detest, and Cardes as much I hate;
Neither am I, as she sayes, out so late,
As was reported when your Wiues and shee
At Vintners Hall, were making their tongues free.
What is it that such tatling Gossips dare not?
To wrong their husbands, nay (themselus) they care not;
For rather then with silence they will sit,
Against themselues they'le vtter out their wit,
As my Wife did in one complaint she made,
About a Hat, that I to her denaide,
'Twas her deuotion at the Church to spy it,
With great affection, yet by me denide.
Where were your thoughts, on Prayer, or else on Pride?
This shewes what follies they doe entertaine,
And that their speeches (like themselues) be vaine.
All men that know what creatures Women are,
For ta[illeg.]ling of their wiues doe little care.
Tis but a breath, euen like Tobacco smoake,
Which if they should not vtter, they would choake.
If they conceiue a thing within their minde,
(Although the substance of it be but winde)
It must be vtt'ered foorth, and haue quicke vent,
Or with themselues they grow most disconteet.
Well, I am further charged with vntruth,
By this my male-contented female youth,
She sayes, I neuer gaue her Gowne: Oh lye,
Who payde for that last weeke? belike not I:
I giue her Money still, and she buyes Stuffe.
But now I smell a Ratte, I haue enough;
Belike some Gallants doe their bountie show,
And for her kindnesse, kindnesse they bestow:
She traffickes with them, changing ware for ware,
And so my Money in her Purse doth spare:
It may be thus, and now I much suspect,
Vnto my Browes Ile haue a more respect?
I haue been troubled much with Head-ach late,
Something I feare doth swell about my pate:
Most curiously I will obserue the thing,
If it doe bud, as now tis toward the Spring,
I will not be a Wittoll and an Asse,
But euen next Sommer turne my wife to grasse.
The fift Gossips Complaint.
Svre (quoth the fift) I do not meane to flatter,Were all such husbands hang'd, it made no matter.
I haue a sound card for a womans stay,
Hee's durnke but once a weeke, that's e'ry day.
Oh 'tis the filthiest man I do protest,
That euer was of giddy pate possest:
Himselfe all day in Tauernes he bestowes,
And comes to bed at night in shooes and hose;
And there he lyes as cleanly as a Hog,
Perfum'd as sweet as any stinking Dog,
With filthy leaues he smoakes his head with all,
Such Weeds as Indians do Tobacco call:
But sure as Black-amores looke outward skin,
So Collier-like are English-men within,
That take such trash: for there be Doctors say,
The memory of Man it doth decay,
And poysoning the Braine, it makes it dull,
VVhen loathsome vapours fill each passage full.
I am a woman, yet Ile vndertake,
The credit of this fire-worke quite to shake,
Gainst any Maister-gunner of the trade,
No reason in the world that can perswade
Vertue remaineth in a little smoake,
That to our sences doth offence prouoke:
Hold but your face where wood a kindling lyes,
Apply the Medicine to your nose and eyes,
Into your mouth let it haue passage free,
And note how welcome this same stuffe will be.
My nose likes a Sir-reuerence as well:
I thinke a thousand times I do complaine,
And tell my husband that he should refraine
This making of a Chimney of his nose:
He had a breath as sweet as any Rose,
Before he vsed this same scuruy tricke,
But now if I do kisse him I am sicke,
With this same fough; beshrow your heart say I,
Tobacco stinkes, you poyson me, I dye.
Then what does he, but sayes, Go hang thee Queane,
This wholesome Phisicke keepes my body cleane,
Ile take it for to anger thee withall:
Then for a Candle and a Pipe hee'le call:
A Trencher VVhore, let there a Rush be got,
Some Paper, make the Fire-shouell hot,
A Knife, some Match, and reach a little VVyre,
A Tinder-box, fetch me a coale of Fyre.
VVhy heeres a stirre, what woman can endure it?
And yet this life I haue (Gossips) assure it,
But now and then I fit him in his kinde,
VVhen any smoaky stuffe of his I finde:
For when I meete with his Tobacco Box,
I send it to the Priuie with a Pox.
Then hee'le goe raging vp and downe, and sweare,
He misseth such most rare and holsome geare,
The like did neuer grow on India ground,
And euery Ounce for goodnesse worth a pound.
Thus doth he liue, and make a dayly course
To smoake himselfe, keeping an emptie Purse,
VVith Beere, VVine, and Tobacco; what cares hee,
Sinke I, or swim, it matters not for me.
My discontent succeedeth day by day.
When first I married with this drunken drone,
I was a proper wench it is well knowne:
And though I say'[illeg.] that should not, one or other,
In all our parish was not such another,
I did refuse as handsome men and wise,
As euer girdle girt, let that suffice.
And if good fortune I had not withstood,
I might in Conscience sure haue worne a Hood.
My husband had as much with me (that Curre)
As Mistries Susans husband had with her:
Besides I know all you that are in place,
Will iudge that I haue farre a better face,
More propper body, and for hand and foot
Ile put her downe, and giue her legges to boot:
Yet notwithstanding my good parts, you see
How Lady-like she is maintain'd to me.
But well, if I prooue widdow ere I dye,
It shall go hard but I will looke as hye.
The fift Husbands Answere.
Heer's a braue world indeede if this geare hold,When honest men by sluts are thus contrould:
In absence, to haue credit ouerthrowne,
And we made Guls for them to play vpon,
Shall we endure it, and be made fooles still:
No, Ile curbe mine, vpon my life I will,
And keepe her somewhat shorter in a doore,
A Tauerne tell-tale she shall be no more.
Neighbours, I thinke you know me, all are heere,
And as good-fellow, sometime trade therewith,
Yet did you neuer see me Smug the Smith:
Did any of you euer know me reele?
Or in a storme of Wine turne vp the heele?
In all your liues did any see me so,
That with these paire of Legges I could not go?
Pray speake my Maisters, for I may mistake
A man will venter much for good Wines sake.
But if I haue been sometimes ouer-shot,
In calling for too much by t'other pot;
Shall my wife chatter till her tongue be weary,
And tearme me Drunkard, when I am but merry?
Will any louing wife be so vnkind?
Or doth not duety and good manners binde
A woman to forbeare, to winke, and hide,
And not to rayle, to slaunder and to chide,
She might haue said in priuate certainly,
Husband, last night you sung a pot too hye,
Or my deere loue, pray thee where hast thou bin?
In truth (Sweet-hart) you are a little in.
All this were well, indifferent to be borne:
But shall she lay me open (as in scorne)
To her companions scoffing at me so,
As if I daily could not stand nor go?
She tearmes me Sound card for a womans stay,
Drunke once a weeke, and that is euery day.
The filthiest Drunkard (thus she doth protest)
That euer was of giddy braine possest.
And further, to the world she doth disclose,
That I come into bed in shooes and hose:
And horrible Tobacco do so drinke,
Well, this is good, but marke the end at last,
In a new mould this woman I will cast,
Her tongue in other order I will keepe,
Better she had bin in her bed asleepe,
Then in a Tauerne, when those words she spake:
A little paines with her I meane to take:
For she shall find me in another tune,
Betweene this February and next Iune:
In sober sadnesse I do speake it now,
And to you all I make a solemne vow,
The chiefest Art I haue I will bestow,
About a worke cald taming of the Shrow.
It makes my heart to fret, my lookes to frowne,
That we should let our wiues thus put vs downe.
But for mine owne part I haue now decreed,
To do a good and charitable deed.
If she begin her former course a fresh,
I haue a tricke to mortifie her flesh:
Vnto you all example I will giue,
Perhaps youle thanke me for it while you liue
But for your selues, to nothing Ile perswade,
Because the blame on me shall not be laid:
Other mens wiues I meane to let alone,
I shall haue worke enough to tame mine owne.
The sixt Gossips Complaint.
Friends (quoth the sixt) each hath reueald her griefe,Yet giue me leaue to thinke that mine is chiefe:
Would with your worst I might a Husband change
Sure I would thinke my hap lesse hard and strange.
Your fiue in deed are bad, I must confesse,
But mine is euen the worst of all the messe:
All yours may be indur'd, but tis a hell,
When men do loue their neighbours wiues too well.
Thinke that I doe not speake it of ill will,
(As true as this is Wine I meane to fill)
Not out of iealousie, take it not so,
Into that humour I did neuer grow:
I speake it Gossips (first Ile drinke) doe y'heare?
Eu'n from the wronges that I doe know I beare.
My Husband's leawd, giuen to goe astray,
His loue to mee now dayly doth decay;
Quite altred from the man that he hath bin,
Euen giuen ouer to the fleshly sin.
There's not a Whore in London, nor about,
But he hath all the haunts to find her out.
He knowes the Panders that can fit his turne,
And Baudes that helpe good fellowes to the burne:
Taffitie Queanes, and fine light silken Whores,
That haue the gift of Pox in their owne powers,
And can teach French in halfe a day by noone,
As leacherous as a Monkey or Baboone:
That daily goe like Ladies in attire,
And liue by hackning out themselues to hire;
Then any Iade betwixt Grauesend and Douer:
And let me aske, what's such a one, or shee
With Fanne and Maske? His Cozens all they bee.
What's she that hath the Iewell in her haire,
And on her backe the Cobweb-Lawne, most rare,
Hauing a Vintners bush vpon her head,
All trim'd with Shoo-stringes tawny, greene, and red?
Whose Fan weighs more, tride onely by the Feather,
Then all her honest trickes, being ioyn'd together?
Forsooth his Cozen, shee's most neere of kin,
This lying humour he is euer in.
He hath all that to villanie belonges,
The hugest number of such baudy Songes,
You euen would wonder (Gossips, this is plaine)
That any man could beare them in his braine.
He hath a Song cald, Mistris will you doe?
And, My man Thomas did me promise too,
He hath the Pinnace, rigd with silken saile,
And pretty Birdes, with Garden Nightingale,
Ile tie my Mare in thy ground a new way,
Worse then the Players sing it in the Play:
Besse for abuses, and a number more,
That you and I haue neuer heard before.
And these among those Wenches he doth learne,
VVhich by actiuitie their liuinges earne.
His Crownes vpon them frankly he bestowes,
Not caring for his wife, or how she goes:
Let me complaine for any kind of Stuffe,
VVhat answers he? Thy clothes are good enough,
I like thee well, and should if thou went'st worse.
These are his cogging trickes to saue his Purse,
He neuer doth regard on whom it be.
Let me but walke with him along the steeete,
Tis wonderfull how many he doth meete
That doe salute him, looking all like Queanes;
But then heele scarcely speake by any meanes,
Onely he winkes on them, and passes by,
Making account, The blind eates many a Flye.
But I can smell the knauery of him out,
And very shortly (I doe make no doubt)
To take him napping, I haue layde a plot
Shall coole the Gentleman is growne so hot.
I say no more, there's somewhat in the winde,
The Cat oft winkes, and yet she is not blind.
All friendes, no wordes, be merry: come who drinkes?
Little our Goodmen knowes what their wiues thinks.
Let's poynt a time when we shall meete againe,
And she that fayles, we will inioyne this paine,
Fiue Shillings spent in Wine, Gossips pawne downe;
And to giue good example, there's my Crowne.
The Sixt Husbands Answere.
Friendes to conclude, beleeue my word in this,No kind of Crosse like a bad Woman is:
I know your handes are full, Neighbours 'tis true,
And I my selfe make one as well as you;
I share in Shrow indifferently well,
One that doth make my House resemble Hell:
Because her diuelish nature is so bad,
No quietnesse can at her hands be had.
Will you beleeue mee? Sirs I will not lye,
That euer I haue knowne, or euer shall:
And I perceiue, that heere's none of you all
Equall with mee, for wicked womans flesh;
Shee'le rayle all day, at night begin a fresh,
And with that tune into her Bed she lyes,
Scouldes in her sleepe, and scouldes when she doth rise.
And why is this thinke you? Marry Ile tell,
She sayes, I loue my neighbours Wiues too well;
But if I were this instant houre to die,
Ile take it on my death, that she doth lie.
Sometimes I aske my neighbours how they doe,
Giue them a Pint (perhaps) and kisse them too:
Why what of this? and if a man doe so,
May't not be done, and yet no euill grow;
Kindnesse may lead a man vnto kind carriage,
And yet he may be constant in his marriage;
But for my Wife I doe not care a Pin,
What scuruy minde soeuer she be in,
To slaunder me with Whores; my credit's knowne,
She hath a lying tongue (friends) of her owne,
To say that I bad Houses doe frequent,
And there on Common Whores my loue is spent.
I neuer was in Baudy house but twice,
And there indeed a friend did me intice
To see some fashions; onely there we dranke,
And saw a gallant Queane, her name was Franke,
In a Silke Gowne, loose bodyed, so was she:
Not that I tride her, but as they told me:
She gaue vs good Tobacco, sweet, and strong,
And of meere kindnesse sung a bawdy Song.
This I protest was euen all we did,
Some Rascall told my Wife, that ought me spight,
And I was villain'd for it sound at night:
And euer since, if any strife arise,
She asketh me where Mistris Francis lies:
Cals her my Whore, and sayes that I and shee,
Both of a haire and of a humour bee.
But well, it skils not; let her talke and spare not,
I haue set downe my rest, in troth I care not:
I see it is no wisedome any way,
To storme in minde at that which women say:
Their Mouthes cannot containe their Tongues within;
For when they're Maydes, [illeg.] wedlocke they begin,
At euery meeting, then they doe discouer
The disposition of each kind of Louer.
Ione hath a propper handsome Man in truth,
But Iudiths is not halfe so kind a youth:
Nan knowes not what a Iewell she hath got;
But Dorothies sweet-heart, I like him not.
Thus being Maydes, they doe their Louers vse,
And being Wiues, their Husbands they abuse:
Therefore in this case, let vs be content,
Tis now too late our Bargaines to repent:
But let vs hope they'le shortly to their Graue,
And then we quiet liues a peece shall haue:
And hee to whom kind Death this freedome giues,
Let him take heed of wiuing while he liues.
The end of the Sixe Gossips, and their Husbands.
The Censure of the Batcheler and the Mayde, vpon the former Complaints.
Batcheler.Good sister Mayde [illeg.] amaz'd in minde,
To heare that married Wiues deale thus vnkinde
Against their Husbands, when the Gossips meet:
Mee thinkes to liue still Batcheler is sweet,
For what I read heere of their iarring strife,
Makes mee afraide to enter married life.
Mayde.
Friend Batcheler, I doe not blame your care,
But doe confesse ti's fit you should beware
How you doe match your selfe vnto a Shrow;
For there's too many of that kind, I know:
But seeing Men in witte put Women downe,
And there be ciuill Wenches in the towne;
Mee thinkes a wise-man may imbrace the one,
And let the Gossips with long tongues alone.
Batcheler.
Wench, thou sayst true; but how can we doe this,
When such false shewes with woman-kind there is?
Still humour them, and haue most sweete behauiour:
But crosse their follies, worse then Gall they sauour.
Art a kind creature, all that know thee sayes;
Yet is it doubtfull, when th' art once a Wife,
How with a Husband thou wilt lead thy life.
Mayde.
Brother, tis true; but ist not so with you,
That are of this same smoth-face ciuill crew?
Loue's in your lips, your eyes, your smiles, your tongue;
And yet all this, from cunning may be sprung:
As you of vs, so we of you, make doubt;
But both must venter, eare we find it out,
And marry for it: But chuse Mayden loue,
For Widdowes alwayes prating Gossips proue,
Vpon their former Marriage, bold they beare them.
In trueth we Maydes are oft asham'd to heare them:
But I will cease and end with blushing feares,
Least I doe bring them all about mine eares;
For some of them will swagger worse then Men:
So farewell Brother, till we meete agen.
Batcheler.
Thankes gentle Sister, thou hast taught me wit,
I'le neare haue Widdow, heere's my hand on it:
Lets get good-will of Father and of Mother,
And then weele marry, and goe try each other.
FINIS.
| A Crew of Kind Gossips | |