 | Amanda |  |
21
To the faire Amanda.
1
Bold of thy promise, and obliged word,From which I doe presume thou wilt not start:
Whereby thou didst so willingly afford
Acceptance of my lines with gentle heart,
And what I write to take it in good part.
This is one ground that moves me to discover
My will to thee, then freely read it over.
2
But looke not here for pleasant tales of love,Nor sycophanticke speech to please thy sence:
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Nor oyly words of guilded eloquence,
My humble Muse avoyds such eminence.
I doe not strive to please thee, yet well know,
I am a friend of thine, and not a foe.
3
My purpose is, to call thee to accountHow thou hast wasted thy fore passed time:
Whether thy vertue doth thy vice surmount,
And how thou conquer'st passion in thy prime:
I must examine it, in this my rime.
Nay start not backe, nor throw it now away,
Thy word stands good against me, thou must stay.
4
Thou art arrayned, and indicted hereOf many impious, and vile offences
Vse thy best policy thy selfe to cleere,
They are not vaine surmises, nor pretences,
But direct proofes, apparant inferences.
What sayes thy conscience to it, dar'st thou pleade
Not guilty, so thy doome to supersede?
5
No, no, thou canst not, it is too apparant,The tincture that remaines, upon thy name,
Is rooted in the marrow, ther's no warrant
Can shroud thee from an ignominious shame,
Reproach, and infamy doth blast thy fame.
And such a scandall hangs upon thy head,
As will not be by time abolished.
6
For know (Amanda) to thy griefe, even IHave pri'd into thy secret passages,
And have observed with a watchfull eye
Such as to thee come with Embassages,
And understood their private messages.
I know their suits, and whereunto they tend.
And see destruction wait upon the end.
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7
I well perceive what thy companions are,Rough roaring roysters, young untamed fellowes,
Gallants from Court, and Captaines from the warre,
These to thy fire of lust doe blow the bellowes.
Of such men I have reason to be jealous.
To thy bed chamber they have free accesse,
And revell there in beastly wantonnesse.
8
Th' acquaintance that thou hast, are whores, & bawds.God dammees, drunkards, cheaters, swearers, thieves.
Young bold-fac't Queanes, and old fore-ridden Iades.
Such company as those thy want relieves.
These are thy mates, thou hang'st upon their sleeves.
And then besides thou alwaies hast in store
Thy Patronesse a Bawd, thy Mayd a Whore.
9
Thou think'st thou art not bad enough, unlesseThou dost invoke on God, to sinke and damne thee;
Nor that thou canst sufficiently transgresse,
Because no wickednesse at all will shame thee,
It is thy praise thou think'st, and none can blame thee,
To tip thy tongue with fearefull three-pil'd oathes,
And that they grace thee better than thy clothes.
10
Familiarly thou swear'st by life and deathBy flesh, bloud, wounds, heart, foote, and soule of God,
Three or foure severall times within a breath,
Carelesse, and almost fearelesse of his rod.
As if thy life would have no period.
It is thy grace and glory for to rore,
And use strange oathes, unheard of heretofore.
11
Hath God forbid to take his Name in vaineAnd thee commanded that thou shalt not sweare?
Dost thou despaire of mercy, as did Cain;
That nothing will constraine thee to forbeare?
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The reines that thou dost give unto thy will,
Makes thee runne headlong unto all that's ill.
12
Oh that one sinne should get another thus,And thy foule lust to be the cause of all;
Thy oathes, and actions are so odious,
They daily doe to Heaven for vengeance call,
Prevent it then in time before it fall:
Make peace with God, before it be too late,
Prevent his wrath thy sinnes abominate.
13
I have observ'd the wicked course thou lead'st,And know the places thou doest use to haunt,
I see the path wherein thou dayly tread'st,
I heare thee proudly honest vertue taunt,
And of thy base, and wicked actions vaunt.
I see the little feare of God thou hast,
At no time sorry for thy follies past.
14
This doe I know, and see it with mine eyes,It is not blaz'd unto me by report,
I see thy Minion come in a disguise,
And his kinde welcome, hugging of him for't,
And whilst he staies, debarring all resort.
You as neere match'd, and undistinguish't twins,
Wallow in filthy pooles of stinking sinnes.
15
I see thy wanton, thy unseemely carriage,And loose behaviour unto every commer:
More bold then wert thou linkt to them in marriage.
Spending thy youth, and vigour of thy summer,
Sometimes with common Souldiers or a Drummer.
Nay, if thy lust, but once begin to burne,
A Dray man, or a Porter serves thy turne.
16
I see it, and it makes me tell thee thus,25
Thou art a strumpet, and more odious
Then Furies, or Hobgoblins to a childe.
Thou art too tame, by being too too wilde.
Thou art a Harlot, or if it be more,
Thou art a shamelesse, and a bold-fac'd Whore.
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Did not I tempt thee minding for to try,And sound the depth of thy too loose condition?
Remember well, didst thou not answer I?
When as that answer strooke in me contrition,
Sorry to see so ready a submission;
And no repulse at all, but giving fire
Vnto the fuell of a hot desire.
18
I durst not thee condemne without a tryall,Knowing the great uncertainety of fame,
I thought perchance I might have had deniall:
Although I greatly did not doubt the same,
But rather feared thou wert voide of shame.
And now thou hast confirmed my suspition,
By manifesting thy too base condition.
19
This was the marke at which I level'd first,And the chiefe cause to satisfie my minde.
Though knowing nought, I did suspect the worst,
Conjecturing which way thou wert inclinde.
And now, as I supposde, I truely finde.
Here therefore I my chiefest force will bend,
And put in practise what I did intend.
20
I thought within my selfe, that if I couldWorke into thy acquaintance, for to know
Thy secret disposition, then I would
(Finding the same, as I imagin'd tho
And us I did conjecture to be so)
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To make thee a reformed convertite.
21
For when I first beheld that face of thine,I could not but commend the workes of nature
A looke so pleasing, as it were divine,
Of a well fashion'd, and a comely feature.
I thought thou wert an admirable creature,
Adorn'd with such a presence, that I saw
It well deserved reverence, and awe.
22
O Lord, thought I, what pity is't that thou,And those sweete beauties should be put to sale?
Why should they, unto every peasant bow,
Till they are worne out or waxed stale:
And their fresh colour turn'd into a pale?
Ist not a misery that such a woman,
Should as a thing of nought be usde in common?
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In pity therefore of thy wretched state,And meerely in compassion of that face,
I vow'd my best, thy life to renovate,
And see if in thy brest there were a place
That would give entertainement unto grace.
For doubtlesse in my heart I should condole
The losse of such a body and a soule.
24
Surely thou art not made for such a one,As now thou dost professe thy selfe to be.
Keepe thou thy beauty unto thee alone
Rather then to be prodigally free,
And let it live alone, and die in thee,
Before thou dost abuse it in this fashion,
To prostitute it with such exprobration.
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God which created thee of such a fashion,As few there are with thee to parallell,
27
Making that better, which before was well,
So that thou dost exceed those that excell.
Of that faire Image wilt thou be so evill,
To make a habitation for the divell?
26
What, is there no man living on the earthThat can deserve to have thy single love?
Cannot a true affection have a birth
Within thy brest, ill fancies to remove,
And thy unbridled lust for to reprove?
Is there no place for vertue left within thee;
Nor no meanes from thy wickednesse to win thee?
27
Oh what a vile and hatefull thing it isTo all chaste eares for to be term'd a Whore?
The very name of such a thing as this
Is most contemptible to rich, and poore:
And breeds a loathing in them euermore.
That terme me thinkes should thee from folly win.
If nothing else, and make thee loath the sinne.
28
The very name will doubtlesse thee condemne,Of all foule crimes, such poyson in it lies.
Twill make all honest people thee contemne
Thy selfe alone it doth not scandalize,
But Parents, kindred, and thy friends likewise.
Vnder that word is commonly comprized
The foulest evils that may be devised.
29
Call to remembrance wherefore thou wert made,Not to serve sinne, but serve the living Lord.
How dar'st thou then of Whoredome make a trade;
And leade a life, that is so much abhor'd:
Rejecting of his statutes, and his word?
And make those gifts of his thine owne damnation
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He first created thee to be the Temple,And habitation of the Holy Ghost.
And made thee perfect, fit for an example,
And wilt thou love him least, that lou'd thee most,
And strive to be one of the sheepe that's lost?
Hast thou no power to curbe thy fond desire,
But headlong runn'st into damnations fire?
31
Consider well the way that thou art going,And looke into the steps that thou hast trod.
Make not such haste unto thine owne undoing:
Thinke with thy selfe, ther's an all-seeing God,
That will correct thee with his scourging rod.
And hath ordain'd a hell from the beginning,
For such as unrepentant live in sinning.
32
What dost thou onely trust unto thy face,And thinke thy beauty will acquire thy guilt?
Art thou growne shameles, and cleane voyd of grace?
Running against all modesty a tilt.
Vntill the beauty of thy soule be spilt?
Will no perswasion, nor no councell winne thee,
Nor feare of God, nor morall vertue in thee?
33
Oh! wicked, and thrice wicked wantonnesse,Accursed wretch, shame to virginity.
Thy breath doth blast the ayre, thou dost digresse
From all religion, stain'st divinity.
Twixt thee, and it, ther's no affinity.
Poyson thou drink'st, with affectation,
And spin'st the thred of condemnation.
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Looke on thy selfe, and let thy inward thoughtExamine well thy outward action.
Give not away that which was deerely bought,
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Nor in thy sences make a fraction.
Let not thy conscience be distended so,
Nor smother vertue, where it ought to grow.
35
Looke backe into thy selfe, and call to mindeHow thou hast spent the Aprill of thy daies,
Thinke how thou hast beene heretofore enclinde
And then consider of thy present waies:
And see if those or these deserveth praise.
And then looke forward to the times to come;
And see what Furies wait upon thy doome.
36
Of if thou think'st it be too hard a taske,To call thy selfe to strict examination:
Then give me leave thy follies to unmaske,
And see if I can breed a detestation
Of sinne in thee, and worke a reformation.
I will not sooth thee in thy impious course,
But strive to make thee better, and not worse.
37
Heare then what I shall tell thee without faining.And read the legend of thy wicked life.
Thou art a woman from no ill abstaining,
And neither art a widow, mayd, nor wife:
Dull in all vertue, but in vice most rife.
Full of deceit, and of dishonest tricks,
A shame unto thy selfe, and to thy sex.
38
See how all honest women doe abhorre thee,Scorne thy acquaintance, and thy base society.
Where civill meetings are, they care not for thee,
But blush to heare of thy impiety,
Offending of so high a Deity.
Thou canst not fit their mirth, nor yet their moanings.
Nor art thou for their churchings or their groanings
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No civill Gossips feasts will thee invite,Nor honest Bridall claime thee as a guest:
Grave modest Matrons loathe thy very sight;
And virgin damsels doe thy course detest.
Thy sensuall life, more brutish then a beast:
That prostitutes thy body thus in common,
Makes thee unworthy to be call'd a woman.
40
Consider how thy whoredome is attendedWith many dismall, blacke, and fearefull sinnes.
Whereby the high Creator is offended.
Thy drunkennesse, and gluttony, two twins
To serve thee at thine elbo, straight begins.
Next these, with bloudy oathes, thy fearefull swearing
And execrations, hell, nor heaven fearing.
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And then thy scurrilous, and idle speaking;With words obscene, and beastly language using.
Thy wilfull, and continuall Sabbath breaking:
Gods holy Name unreverently abusing,
And all religious, and good men accusing.
With these, dissembling, cheating, theeving, pride,
A lying tongue, and all ill else beside.
42
This is the sinfull family thou keepest:And these waite on thee at thy bed, and bord.
With these thou wakest, and with these thou sleepest;
Their absence at no time thou canst afford,
They wait thy pleasure, and obey thy word.
And while each banquets with thee as thy guest
Thy whoredome sits as mistris of the feast.
43
The furniture that doth adorne thy chamberAre pictures of some famous Courtezan.
Here stands a boxe of Bracelets, Pearle, and Amber.
There by a watchet Riband hangs thy Fan:
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By these within a Band-case lies thy Ruffe:
And next to that thy Brush, and then thy Muffe.
44
Neere to thy chamber window stands thy bed:Curtaines, and Vallens, hanging faire about it;
Which with a Rug, or Quilt is covered.
Sometimes within it, and sometimes without it
There dost thou dance carranto's, who needs doubt it?
And daily vawting for to use thy trade,
Thou quickly spoyl'st the fashion when tis made.
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At windowes end, are certaine glasses set,Fill'd with rare water, for to make thee faire.
At tother end, lockt in a Cabinet,
Are dainty powders for thy hands, and hayre.
White prick seam'd Gloves of Kid full many a paire.
With them are bags of precious sweete perfume;
And Masticke patches for to stay the rhume.
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At thy beds feete doth stand thy Trunke below:On which there are two letters for thy name.
Thy lace, and dressing there thou dost bestow:
And in a painted boxe (Oh! fie for shame)
Thou put'st thy playster, and there keep'st the same.
And in another likewise out of sight,
Thy Mallow rootes to make thy teeth looke white.
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Here likewise lies thy gorgets made of Lawne:Hard by, upon a nayle against the wall,
Doth hang thy Gownes, save those that are at pawne.
With them, thy Petty-cotes, and Waste-cotes all:
Neere unto them, because the roome's but small,
Wrapt in a paper, next unto thy Bever,
As light as thou thy selfe doth hang thy Fether.
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Nor farre from these doth stand all in a row32
Flaxen, browne, yellow, some as black's a Crow.
Iust under these doth stand thy groaning-chaire,
And close by it of Chamber pots a paire.
Then next thy bed, upon another shelfe,
There stands a Pot of painting for thy selfe.
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By that, within a glasse, doth stand a PotionTo cleare thy stomacke, and make sweet thy breath.
And then a heape of bookes of thy devotion
Lying upon a shelfe close underneath,
Which thou more think'st upon then on thy death.
They are not prayers of a grieved soule,
That with repentance doth his sinnes condole.
50
But amorous Pamphlets, that best likes thine eyes,And Songs of love, and Sonets exquisit.
Among these Venus, and Adonis lies,
With Salmacis, and her Hermaphrodite:
Pigmalion's there, with his transform'd delight.
And many merry Comedies, with this,
Where the Athenian Phryne acted is.
51
Two casements to thy window alwaies are,One of the which stands open very wide.
Where thou present'st thy face, unmaskt, and bare:
And if by chance thou hast a gallant ey'de,
Passing the street, that hath not thee espi'de,
Thou hast a tricke, which thou wilt seldome spare,
To give him notice that thou standest there.
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For with a clap, thou pull'st the casement too,That he may cast his eye up to the place,
With tother hand thou dost the next undoe,
And there againe present'st to him thy face:
And looking on him with a smiling grace,
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That thou art at his service, and command.
53
Betweene those casements hangs a Christall glasse,Closde in a case Embosted faire with Gold.
Where thou dost oft view, and review thy face,
Spending whole houres thy picture to behold.
Setting thy lookes the best way to be sold.
So turning round about, and walking then
Once through the roome, com'st to the glasse agen.
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By this time, there is something sits awry,One locke is bigger then the other is.
That hangs too farre backe, this too neere thine eye.
The pin upon thy band is set amisse:
Thy lace worne so is hansomer then this.
Then thus it must be, and then thus, and thus,
That Pendent's darke, this more perspicuous.
55
Thy swelling brests are not display'd enough,Pull them up higher, set thy dressing lower.
Those strippings sute farre better with a Ruffe,
Tother is layd aside, this used more:
Thy Crossecloth is not pinned right before.
Thus with thy tiffing, trimming, and thy mending,
Thou spend'st whole houres together without ending.
56
The Mistris of the house where thou dost lie,Hath formerly beene of the selfe-same trade:
One that long since hath sold her honesty,
And now is turn'd from Whore unto a Bawd,
And of a helding is become a Iade.
She tels thee, how thou should'st thy selfe demeane,
And act the part of an audacious Queane.
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Two servants to attend thy lawlesse lust,As Ministers of thy ungodly course,
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Fill the defects of thy decaying purse,
And make the wicked to become more worse.
With thee, and for thee, these doe use to wander,
One as a Pimpe, the other as a Pander.
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Beside thy Pimpe, thy Pander, and thy Bawd,To make thee a compleate, and perfect whore,
As necessary members to thy trade,
To helpe thee at thy need, thou keep'st in store,
Some well approu'd Physitian evermore.
As his assistants, lest thou should'st miscarry,
Thou hast a Surgeon, and Apothecary.
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Thy Doctor, he to keepe thy body cleaneBegins at first with his preparatives,
To make of thee a sound, and wholesome queane,
And then his purgatives, and his restoratives.
And afterwards with his preservatives.
Who for thy Iulips, Potions, Glisters, Pils,
To thy Apothecary sends his bils.
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Directed thus by thy Physitian,He must accordingly prepare them all,
And then comes to thee with his composition,
And brings thee Ielleys, with a Cordiall,
And other potions diureticall.
And as he tooke direction how to make them
So he must now enforme thee how to take them.
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The Surgeon too must his attendance give,With all such instruments as fits his art.
Without his needfull helpe thou canst not live,
To thy polluted corps he must impart
His chiefest skill to keepe thee sound at heart,
His seringe, and his cerecloths, and his patches,
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The places thou dost usually frequent,Is to some Play-house in an afternoone.
And for no other meaning, and intent,
But to get company to sup with soone,
More changeable, and wavering then the Moone.
And with thy wanton lookes, attracting to thee,
The amorous spectators for to wooe thee.
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Thether thou com'st, in severall formes, and shapes,To make thee still a stranger to the place:
And traine new lovers, like young Birds to scrapes.
And by thy habit so to change thy face.
At this time plaine, too morrow all in lace.
Now in the richest colours may be had,
The next day, all in mourning blacke, and sad.
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In a Stuffe Wastcote, and a PeticoteLike to a chamber-mayd, thou com'st to day:
The next day after thou dost change thy note,
Then like a countrey wench, thou com'st in gray;
And sittest like a stranger at the Play.
The morrow after that, thou comest then
In the neate habit of a Citizen.
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The next time, rushing in thy Silken weeds,Embroyder'd, lac't, perfum'd, in glittering-show.
So that thy lookes an admiration breeds,
Rich like a Lady, and attended so,
As brave as any Countesse dost thou goe.
Thus Proteus-like strange shapes thou ventrest on
And changest hue, with the Cameleon.
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The Play once ended, to some Taverne neere,Thou, and thy Cope-mates presently resort,
Where the best Wine and the most costly cheere
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For thy choyce pallat, else thou car'st not for't.
And when thou hast it, yet thou canst not eate
Without a noyse of Fidlers to thy meate.
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There dost thou spend thy time, till almost day,In drinking, dancing, and in beastly riot.
And never think'st it time to goe away,
Vntill some quarrell makes the house unquiet.
Or a large bill affrights thee for thy dyet.
The night thus spent, and mornings neere approach
Sends thee home tumbling in a tottering Coach.
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Thy new acquaintance brings thee to the doreOf thy close lodging in some private place.
To know the house that ne'r was there before,
And staying with thee but a little space
He takes his leave of thy so late-knowne face.
And tels thee, when the morning comes, that then
At thy beds side, he'll visit thee agen.
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To bed thou go'st about the houre of three,Drunke as a begger, else it were a wonder.
Where thou continu'st till eleven it be,
And never pul'st thine eye-lids once asunder.
Nor wak'st by any stormy winde, or thunder.
Vnlesse it commeth in the Youngsters head,
To take thee napping early in thy bed.
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Then he comes ruffeling, ere his braynes be steddy,With drinking Sacke, and Claret over night.
Vntrust, unbutton'd, and scarce halfe made ready,
Of his new Mistris for to have a sight,
Hoping in time to be thy favorite.
And needs must feele, if that thy brests are soft,
And give thee in thy bed thy mornings draft.
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Then thou sit'st up, to bid him welcome in,And striking of thy locks to eyther side,
Display'st thy brest, to shew thy milke white skin.
And if he list a journey for to ride,
Thou art a Hackney, that hast oft beene tride.
And art not coy to grant him such a favour,
To try the courage of so young a shaver.
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Thus having had his pleasure as he list,With much good mirth, to eythers sweet content.
He goes his way as soone as he hath kist,
Vsing some plaine familiar complement,
And for his sport, perchance benificent.
No sooner gone (as tis thy daily guise)
Iust about twelve thou think'st it time to rise.
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Thy coates put on, and having left thy bed,Vnto the Looking-glasse thou straite dost goe.
Whereas two houres thou spend'st about thy head.
At two a clocke, thou goest to dinner tho
With thy Land-lady, and her mayd below.
At three unto the Play-house backe agen,
To be acquainted with some other men.
74
Thou turn'st the day into a sleepy night:And changest night into a waking day.
To Gods appointment thou art opposite:
What he commands thee, that thou dost gainsay,
And neyther him nor nature dost obey.
Thy wicked heart, that's onely bent to evill
Doth make thee for thy God, to serve the divell.
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Thou laugh'st indeed, and liu'st in pleasant mirth:And fal'st in travell strongly with delight.
But yet it doth not come unto its birth.
Thou groanst at noone, but bring'st not forth till night
38
Curst be those joyes, that bring, with lasting sorrow
For this daies mirth eternall death to morrow.
76
Thou feed'st thy pleasures as the PelicanDoth feed her young ones, with her hearts deare bloud
They likewise doe conspire against thee than,
To take thy life, and like that viperous broode
Gnaw through thy bowels, for to gaine their foode.
Accursed crew, of all things else most vilde,
Both murtherers, the mother, and the childe.
77
Thus dost thou spend thy time, to please thy will,As if thou wert made onely for to sinne.
Thinking on nothing, but on what is ill,
Keeping out God, to let the divell in.
Bending thy whole endeavours for to winne
A shamefull pleasure, that's not worth a thought
And lose a soule that was so dearely bought.
78
Thou dost not keepe one Sunday in a yeere.Nor hear'st a Sermon once in two yeeres space.
Thou carest neither for to read nor heare.
Devotion dwels not in thee, nor yet grace.
No divine thought hath in thy heart a place.
Thou hast no resolution or intent
Once to take comfort of the Sacrament.
79
Thou know'st not what to prayer doth belong,Private, or publique, nor to meditation.
Thou dost not use to exercise thy tongue
In vocall sound, or silent adoration.
Nor send'st thy thoughts up by ejaculation.
Nor worship'st any Deity above
But Venus, and her sonne, the god of love.
80
Who followes after fashions more then thou,39
Yet thou esteem'st them not halfe good enough,
For thee to weare, if better may be sold.
Thy pride makes thee so impudently bold.
Thou dar'st compare thy selfe with any woman,
Though faithfull she to all, thou true to no man.
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What honour doth thy cloathing purchase thee?Or what respect attends on thy attire?
Thy Iewels are like blossomes on a tree,
That's cutting downe for fewell for the fire.
Gold worne by thee is prizde as Copper wyre.
Rich sumptuous garments, if thy body beare them
They are of no regard whilst thou dost weare them.
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What glory hast thou gotten by thy face?Or is thy beauty honoured at all?
To others such a feature were a grace,
And such a beauty were angelicall.
But thou that makst such gifts mechanicall.
Haynous reproach, and calumny dost doe them,
And tak'st away the honour due unto them.
83
Me thinkes I heare thee pleading an excuse,And asking me, what I would have thee doe,
Thou sayst to worke, it never was thy use,
Thy friends did never bring thee up thereto.
And therefore knowst not how thou shouldst so doe.
Nor left thee meanes enough, for to defray.
The charge of life, to feede thee once a day
84
Vnable therefore any paines to taek,And destitute of meanes whereby to live,
Since all thy Friends, and Kindred thee forsak,
And no man unto thee will comfort give,
Or in thy wants, or troubles thee relieve.
40
To take so wicked, and so lewd a course.
85
But will these reasons purge thee of thy crime,And take away the guilt of thy offence?
Will these, to cleanse thy blot, at anytime
Wipe off the scandall of thy impudence?
Or will they supersede thy indigence?
Is it more credit to be cal'd a Whore,
Then to be counted honest though but poore?
86
Must riches onely make a woman civill,And modesty be limited by wealth?
Wilt thou extract thy vertue from the divell?
Being once sicke, wilt thou dispaire of health?
And reckon lesse of honesty then stealth?
Shall not faire vertue, thy foule vice controule?
Wilt thou to please thy body, kill thy soule?
87
Wherefore did the Almighty give thee hands?For nothing but to trim, and decke thy face?
What is he bound to give thee meanes, and Lands
And more of thy deserts then of his grace?
Art thou not bound his Statutes to embrace?
How art thou puft in minde to thinke that thou
Shouldst live by sweating of anothers brow?
88
God made thee not to live in idlenes,Nor to depend on nothing else but pleasure.
Thou ought'st not so to wanton in excesse
But for to bound thy will within a measure,
And patiently for to attend his leasure.
If he will have thee poore, be thou content,
By honest labour earne thy aliment.
89
Learne to preferre an honest povertyBefore a wealthy, and a wicked life.
41
And stirs us up to hatred, and to strife.
Then is a poore, and beautious mayd, or wife,
Nothing more comely, nor deserving prayse.
She is esteem'd the mirrour of her daies.
90
How would'st thou be unfit to manage wealthIf such a blessing had betyded thee?
When as thou hast not wit to guide thy selfe,
Nor carefully to thine owne body see:
But of thy selfe so wastefully art free.
Such as respect not credit, nor good name,
Are to all goodnes a reproach, and shame.
91
Dost thou thinke foule to live by honest paine,When tis esteem'd a commendable thing:
Many thereby a vertuous name doe gaine,
And to themselves deserved honour bring:
Yet thou delight'st so much in wantoning.
Thou leavest God, to waite upon the divell,
And art asham'd of goodnes, not of evill.
92
Be not asham'd of that deserv's no shame:But shame to doe what brings a shamefull end.
Be thou asham'd with shame to staine thy name,
And shamefully thy honour to mispend,
Such shame, a shamefull punishment will send.
And as thou shamelesse of all shame dost live,
So death to thee a shamefull end will give.
93
Thou dar'st not publiquely be seene abroad,For feare thy cloathes be pluckt from off thy backe.
But keep'st thy chamber with thy Pimpe, and Bawd.
For if thou walk'st the streets, thou shalt not lacke
Such as will make thy bravery goe to wracke.
Close stooles, durt, chamber-pots shall wash thy clothes
42
94
One comes, and cries alowd, there goes a whore,A Bridewell baggage, that deserves the lash,
Oh hang her queane, she makes a thousand poore,
Tis pity there should live such filthy trash
To weare good cloathes, and swagger thus in slash,
Pull off her Plush, disrobe her of her gowne,
And into Kennell thrust the Strumpet downe.
95
Thus shouting, and out-crying they abuse thee,If that thou shew'st thy selfe in open Streete,
And thinke it no dishonour to misuse thee,
And if thy best acquaintance doth thee meet.
He passeth by ashamed thee to greete.
Knowing it is a blemish to his name
To be seene speaking to so bace a dame.
96
That makes thee like an Owle come forth by night,And steale into a Taverne in the darke,
Because thou dar'st not to be seene by light.
And fearing then, that some thy waies doe marke,
Thou tremblest, if thou heare a dog but barke.
The day to some doth fly away too fast,
Thou reckon'st it the greatest foe thou hast.
97
Oh! how a Constable will make thee start,And runne into a corner for to shun him.
A Beedle puts such feare into thy heart,
That thou can'st make thy feete strive to outrunne him
As if thou hadst beene she that had undone him.
As children love the Beares of Paris-garden,
So dost thou like the sight of a Church-warden.
98
Bridewell expects thee for to beate some Hempe.And Middleton doth want thee for his cart,
The Compters will not yeeld thou art exempt
43
And share in thee, and ought not thence to start.
The Marshals of the City, and the Court,
Must play with thee in earnest, not in sport.
99
Dost thou not blush Amanda, tell me true,To see thy selfe as in a mirrour here?
I call thee by such names, as are thy due,
And speake the simple truth without all feare.
Nor can I any longer thee forbeare.
Reade farther yet, and looke thou well unto it,
The pity I have on thee makes me doe it.
100
How many severall waies wilt thou deviseTo make that faire which is but foule deceit.
Why dost thou cast such glances with thine eyes?
Tis but to draw the Fish unto the baite,
Thy golden Apples are but counterfeit.
Thy teares, thy sighes, thy smiles, thy pensive passion,
Are borrowed showes, and meere dissimulation.
101
As a hot blast before a hasty showre:So are thy pleasing, and enamouring smiles.
Thy voyce Hiena-like, is to devoure,
Thy sweete alluring songs, are Syrens wiles.
Thy teares are but the teares of Crocodiles.
Eyes of a Basiliske, a Panthers breath,
A Tigers heart, intending nought but death.
102
Thou art a Serpent in a Christall brooke,A poyson'd Potion in a Cup of Gold.
A Magicke spell within a golden booke.
A painted Sepulcher of bones, and mould,
Bitter in taste, though glorious to behold.
Thy wolvish throat for guiltlesse Lambs doth gape,
And play'st the devill in an Angels shape.
44
103
Drone like, from painefull Bee thou suck'st the honey.Moth-like, thou cloath'st, and feed'st on others spoyle.
Canker-like eating, and consuming money.
Grashopper-like, thou sing'st whilst others toyle.
And like a Caterpiller liv'st the while.
Like leprosies thou art, or scabs, or tetters.
Or the blacke Crosse, before the row of Letters.
104
Thy glorious clothing, and thy glittering show,Thy gorgeous dressing, and thy painted face,
Makes thee admir'd of them that doe not know
The seeming substance of a fained grace.
But oh! within that heart there is no place
For vertues harbour, nor of sinne no sence,
But balefull lust, and stinking impudence.
105
How cunniugly thy lover to deceiveWilt thou faine showes of sorrow, and of passion,
For sometime in his presence thou wilt leave
Thy wanton trickes, and then in imitation
Of a griev'd soule, thereby to gaine compassion,
Sigh, and seeme sad, dejecting of thy looke,
As of thy life, no comfort thou had'st tooke.
106
Then wilt thou tell him how thou lov'st the man,And that his great neglect doth make thee sad.
That thou must love him still doe what he can,
Though backe from him no love againe be had.
And that through passion thou art almost mad.
Then wilt thou kisse, and hugge him in thine armes,
Sheding forth teares, to make those teares thy charms.
107
When out alas, thou scarce hast seene him thriceAnd dost not know what honest love doth meane.
And then perchance forsooth thou wilt be nice,
And tell him, thou dost scorne to be uncleane.
45
And by thy fained seemings so to winne
My dainty gallant to a deadly sinne.
108
Thus ayming onely, to be onely ill,Thou seem'st to hate vice, that thou may'st be vicious.
Willing to have unwillingly thy will,
Striving through modesty to be pernicious,
And hating whoredome, to be meretritious.
Thus thy faire glosses seeme for to discover
Thy cursed disposition to thy lover.
109
Consider how thy guilt doth make thee flyFrom house to house, from one Streete to another.
Thou dar'st not in one lodging long time lie,
But strive by changing place thy sinne to smother,
That thy lewd courses no man may discover.
Thou know'st full well, that what thou dost is ill,
Yet wilt thou lose thy soule, to gaine thy will?
110
This moneth, neere Westminster thy lodgings are,The next moneth thou remov'st to Clarkenwell.
Within a while that chamber is to farre.
Then to the Strand thou backe returnst to dwell,
Ther's better trading, as report doth tell.
From thence unto the City dost thou flie,
And for a moneth or two thou there dost lie.
111
It is not long, but there is notice taken,That so much company makes thee suspected:
And thereupon that place is straight forsaken.
To Shoreditch then thou go'st, to be protected,
But there thou art not to thy minde respected.
And therefore wisely to amend the matter,
Thou think'st ther's better trading ore the water.
112
At Lambeth then thou settest up thy rest,46
There for one quarter thou dost thinke it best.
To make that place the place for thy resort,
Where thou mayst best gaine profit with thy sport.
But ther's a fault too, when the terme is ended,
And Court remou'd, then thou art unbefriended.
113
Then for a while thy selfe to recreate,Thou think'st it best to take the Countreys ayre.
And with new friends, thy selfe exhilarate.
To Hackney therefore, thou dost straight repaire,
Intending there to keepe an open faire.
For there thou hop'st (if fame be not belide)
That Hackney gallants will a hackney ride
114
Thus like a wandring vagabond, thou flyestFrom place to place, and at no place dost tarry.
In City, Suburbs, Countrey, if thou lyest,
Feare takes thee up, and thee from thence doth carry.
So that thou liv'st like a vbiquitary.
Nor here, nor there, nor any where residing,
But one that hath no home, nor no abiding.
115
And as thy lodging thou dost often change,So art thou metamorphosde in thy name,
For using too, and fro, so much to range,
In often moving thou dost lose the same.
Well knowing thereunto thou art a shame.
Sometime thy name is Mary, sometime Anna,
Within a while tis Edith, then Susanna.
116
Then wilt thou take the surname of another,And have it as thine owne, by usurpation.
Forgetting that which thou hadst from thy mother,
And so thou passest by that appellation,
Till note is taken of thy occupation.
47
And blotted out, and so another taken.
116
Thus in uncertaineties thou alwaies dealest,Constant in nothing, but committing sinne.
And by thy outward carriage thou revealest,
The disposition of thy heart within.
Where had there any grace, or vertue bin,
Thou would'st have loath'd so lewd a life as this,
Despising that, wherein no goodnes is.
118
Alas (Amanda) thinke upon the time,How soone it fleets, and quickly flies away,
Now thou art young, and in thy flower, and prime.
Thou cam'st into the world but tother day,
Make a good market, for thou canst not stay.
Those pleasing lookes, and beauties which thou hast,
Will quickly wither, long they cannot last.
119
Let not such fading pompe, thy pleasure cherish,Nor transitory joy, be thy delight.
Things that are good determine, and doe perish,
Much more the wicked pastimes of the night,
Although thy sinne doth glister, and looke bright,
By the continuall using of thy lust,
Twill canker eate thy heart, and make it rust.
120
Doe not once thinke thou canst continue long,When as all pleasures, and delights, are short.
Though now thou art respected being young,
It is no supersedeas for thy sport,
As thy daies wither, so declines thy port.
Time gnawes upon thee, and will thee devoure,
Before thou be aware, within an houre.
121
Foure or five yeeres will bring thee out of date,And make thee dry, as is a wither'd tree.
48
Will be decayed, and found dead in thee.
And thou growne hoarse with crying woe is me.
Then will thy friends, and lovers thee forsake,
And no compassion on thy person take.
122
Nay, ten to one if thou so long dost last,But that some foule, and loathsome griefe doth seize thee,
Before two summers over thee have past,
Some angry rising ulcer will disease thee:
Or else some sore, as bad as that displease thee.
Thy Mercury, thy Vnguents, and thy Lotions
Will eate thy flesh, and worke in thee strange motions.
123
Ther's a disease that is the plague of whores,Which rooteth in the marrow and the bones.
Within thee, and without thee full of sores:
That, that I say, will take thee all at once,
And make thee to reduplicate thy grones.
That Morbus Gallicus will fill thy veines,
And gnaw into thy bowels, and thy reines.
124
Where are thy lovers then, and all thy friends?What profit is there of thy gaudy clothes?
Where are the men that to thee comfort sends?
That so much vow'd with many fearefull oathes?
He that seem'd then to love thee most, now loathes.
Thou, full of aches, groanest by the wall.
And no man sees, nor pitties thee at all.
125
Now vengeance doth begin to showre upon thee,And every one doth laugh at thy distresse.
Where are thy pleasures now, that have undone thee?
This is the fruit of thy licenciousnesse.
Thy griefes are more then I can well expresse.
And thou forlorne, forsaken, full of woe
49
116
Example take, by such as heretoforeSet light by honesty, as thou hast done,
And bravely liv'd, by playing of the Whore.
Observe their manner, when they first begun.
And how they entertayned every one.
The honour they have gotten, and the glory,
And marke their ending, when thou readst the story
127
Licaste of Sicilia, long agoe,The famous Courtesan of all her daies.
Thessalian Metra, one that liv'd a foe
To civill modesty, and Matrons praise.
Faire Rhodopis, that shin'd with beauties rayes.
Leœna, Flora, the Athenian Thais.
Bright Batine, and the Corinthian Lais.
128
These were the famous creatures of their time,Much sought too for their beauties, and admired.
And whilst they bravely flourisht in their prime
None were so much resorted, or desired,
Till with their often riding they were tired.
Princes, Philosophers, and famous men
Longed to be of their acquaintance then.
129
In pompe they liv'd, and great magnificence,Enjoying all things to their hearts content:
Clothed in robes of greatest eminence,
Feeding on dainties for their aliment,
And wanting nothing thereto congruent.
Thus they enjoy'd a while delight, and pleasure,
In gorgeous clothes abounding, and in treasure.
130
But when their beauty ceased for to shine,And sliding time began to make them old,
Their glorie then did presently decline,
50
Withdrew desire, and made affection cold,
Their Pompe decaying, and their gotten store,
Made them at length become exceeding poore.
131
The price that was at first an hundred pounds,To quench the fury of their burning fire,
Fell quickly downe, to lesse then twenty Crownes.
Nay if that any were dispos'd to try her,
A single Crowne, or halfe a Crowne would buy he:
And rather then she would a cheapman misse,
She would be bought with halfe the price of this.
132
The great ones then, when they had cast them off,And surfeited themselves in their delight.
Those dainty faces were to them a scoffe.
Nor did they once respect at all their sight.
They were abhor'd, and disesteemed quite.
Then every rude, and base mechanicke slave,
Got his desire, in what he wisht to have.
133
At length forsaken of the rich, and poore,Their beauty vanisht, and their glory gone,
Despised, scoft, and scorn'd, from dore to dore,
They sadly walkt, disdain'd of every one.
Their cries unheard, unpittied their moane.
They lay them downe, distressed, and forlorne,
And die with wishing they had ne'r beene borne.
134
Yet they are more to be excus'd then thou,Because they had not knowledge of a god,
And sinn'd, not knowing against whom, or how,
Hearing, nor fearing of his scourging rod.
Nor did they know the way wherein thy trod.
But in blinde ignorance did walke awry.
Having no notice of a Deity.
51
135
But thou hast with a greater care beene bred,And well acquainted with Gods holy Word.
Thou know'st the path, which thou dost daily tread,
Leads unto hell, and that thy life's absurd.
And will damnation in the end afford.
Thy conscience tels thee that thy course is evill,
Displeasing God, and pleasing to the devill.
136
And yet thy knowledge doth not worke at all,To bring thy life to reformation:
Thou wilt not heare the Lord when he doth call,
And suffer'st in thy heart an obduration.
And practisest recidivation.
Thy voluntary wilfulnesse doth bend
To worke thy owne destruction in the end.
137
Shall I delare unto thee in a word,The vertue of unstain'd virginity?
What strange, and rare effects it doth afford,
Being to grace allyed by affinity:
How neere it commeth to divinity.
What hath beene acted by the influence
Of undefiled, and chaste continence.
138
Laerthes, King of Ægypt being blind,And seeking long time cure, but finding none,
Was by Apollo's Oracle, enjoyn'd
To get a womans water, that had knowne
The use of one man, and but onely one.
And with the same, his blinded eyes wash over,
He should (and did) his long-lost sight recover.
139
A vestall virgin, called Claudia,To make't appeare, that she had lived chaste,
Did draw the Image of Aritia
Vp Tiber-river, where the same was plac't,
52
When as the same, all other meanes being proved,
Could not by any force at all be moved.
140
Another Vestall, Tuccia by name,Being accus'd of fornication,
For to acquit, and free her from that shame,
And to remove that imputation,
Cleered her selfe (and got such commendation
As nothing else the like to her could give)
By bearing of faire water in a Sieve.
141
Loe here Amanda, and obserue it well,The strange effects that chastity hath wrought,
Such things as are incredible to tell,
By vertue thereof, hath to passe beene brought.
Which to our judgments would have come to nought.
At what high rates then, ought'st thou to have priz'd it?
And not in such base sort to to have despisde it.
142
On tother side, behold the strange events,The ruines, downfals, and the desolations,
Bloudy destructions, fearefull accidents,
Of Kings, of People, Countreys, Kingdomes, Nations.
Their miseries, and their depopulations.
That have bin wrought, through foule concupiscence,
And by that ougly sinne, Incontinence.
143
How many Kings have lost Emperiall Crownes?Their lives, their Wives, their Children, Subjects all?
How many Cities, and renowned Townes,
Have into ashes beene observ'd to fall,
By that one sinne, that sinne veneriall?
It were too long, to teadious to relate,
T'would tire thy sences to enumerate.
144
Had Helena beene true, the famous Troy53
She had not tasted of that sad annoy
Which was procured by their proud alarmes,
Nor they themselves, had suffer'd halfe those harmes.
Young Alexander had not lost his life.
And Menelaus had enjoy'd his Wife.
145
Hector had liv'd, that died so well-belov'd.The stately tower of Ilion had stood,
And the Palladium had not beene remov'd.
Old Priam, and his fifty headed broode,
Had not all by the sword pour'd out their bloud.
The Græcians had not stoned Hecuba.
Nor had they sacrifizde Polixena.
146
These mischiefes, and a thousand others moe,By lust, and by concupiscences rage,
Did all accrue, that else had not beene so.
The like enormities in every age
Still swell apace, and never will asswage.
And thy foule life, by playing of the Whore
Adds to the wound, and doth increase the sore.
147
Vnto thy followers, thou dein'st to give,Two liveries, whereby they may be knowne:
Which they doe weare so long as they doe live,
For their true service unto thee alone,
Of these two liveries, the poxe is one,
With this, as a companion, or a brother
Is poverty, copartner with the other.
148
These two are never absent from thee long,But waite upon thee, wheresoe're thou go'st.
They serve thee being old, as well as young,
And cleave unto thee whatsoe're thou do'st.
From place to place they haunt thee like a ghost.
54
Nor parting, till they bring thee to thy grave.
149
How many fearefull curses doe attend thee,And execrations hang upon thy life,
Praying that God, such miseries would send thee,
As amongst wretched creatures are most rife?
Thy father, mother, kindred, man, and wife,
As thou endeavour'st to grow worse, and worse,
They all heape on thee curse upon a curse.
150
Thy father is asham'd to name thee daughter,Thy mother blusheth for to call thee child,
Thy kindred all implore the high Creator,
That since thou shamest not to be defil'd,
As is thy life, so may thy end be vild.
Thy brothers, sisters, friends, acquaintance all,
Wish that the plagues of Ægypt on thee fall.
151
Thou ruinst heires, and mak'st them sell their lands,To beggery thou bringest men of wealth.
Thou mak'st good husbands for to forfeit bands,
And younger brothers for to live by stealth.
Thou mak'st a man diseas'd that was in health.
And those that ne'r intended wicked course,
Thou mak'st them daily to grow worse, and worse.
152
Thou mak'st the husband leave his loving wife,And the rich father to neglect his sonne:
To maidens thou dispraisest civill life.
By thy allurements masters are undone,
And servants are confounded many a one.
The fatherlesse, and widow, as forlorne,
Doe curse the time that ever thou wert borne.
153
Tis thou, that often art the cause of murther,Of blasphemy, of drunkennesse, and theft.
55
And spend his meanes on thee, till none is left.
And since thy selfe art of all good bereft.
Thou dost so much delight in doing evill;
Thou art a painefull steward for the divell.
154
And yet methinkes, if thou conceivest aright,The little honour, & respect is showne thee,
Of such as daily doe frequent thy sight,
And of thy company that best have knowne thee.
How they in publique places will not owne thee.
That thing alone should make thee change thy mind
And be more pure, as mettall new refin'd.
155
Thou seest daily how they doe abuse thee,And to thy face, will call thee common Whore.
Nor doe regard, how basely they doe use thee,
By thy rich clothes they set not any store.
But tumble, tosse, and touse thee, evermore.
Pulling from thee thy Iewels, and thy Rings,
And using all thou hast as common things.
156
Thinke of the famous women heretofore,Whose chastity, fidelity, and fame,
Not onely in the rich, but in the poore.
Have purchas'd to themselves a lasting name,
Of matchlesse honour, and still keep't the same.
Their classicke vertues, to their endlesse glories.
Have volumes fil'd with memorable stories.
157
Poore Baldraca, the mirrour of a mayd,Though base by birth, of meanest parentage.
Thought scorne to have her honesty betray'd,
By Otho, greatest Monarch of that age,
Though he a Kingdome for it would ingage.
She highly priz'd her honour, more then treasure,
56
158
Read thou the Story of Penelope.Of Chiomara, and Timoclea.
Of Camma, and of bright Zenocrite.
Of the Ægyptian faire Edesia.
Of Claudia, and of chast Lucretia.
And many more beside, whose high-priz'd worth,
In Histories are to their praise set forth.
159
Theano blusht, when one by accidentEspi'd her arme, unto the elbow bare.
Doubting she should be thouht incontinent,
And therefore as ashamed, and in feare,
Forthwith to cover it shee did not spare,
Blaming her selfe, that let it so be seene,
As if therein, immodest she had beene.
160
Oh! wert thou but of her opinion,And neere allide in vertue to the rest,
So as, twixt thee, and them there were a union:
And that thou couldst a better course digest,
Then that which hitherto thou hast exprest.
Thy meretritious life would be amended,
And thou at thine owne follies much offended.
161
But now the course that thou dost undertake,Is most abominable, rude, and base.
It makes the hearts of honest people ake,
So vile a life should spoyle so faire a face.
Want of Gods feare, and of his heavenly grace,
Hath overgrowne thy heart with impudence,
And fil'd thy veines full of concupiscence.
162
Yet doe not thinke (Amanda) that thou art,The onely she, which hath this way transgrest.
Though sinne hath made a conquest of thy heart.
57
Grace notwithstanding, hath an interest.
On which, if wisely thou lay hold in time
It will re-enter, and evict thy crime.
163
Commence thy suite against the power of hell,By Writ of Melius Inquirendum brought.
And prosecute it, till thou dost expell
That bold suggestor, lust: and brought to nought
Her false suggestions, that these mischiefes wrought.
Three helpes thou hast to make thy title faire,
Against all claime, Repentance, Faith, and Prayer.
164
These three conjoynd, bind fast the armes of sinne.Chaine up ill thoughts, ill words, ill actions all,
Expelling vice, and letting vertue in.
They captivate, I say, and keepe in thrall
The force of hell, and power sathanicall.
By these thou dost ascend unto the throne
Of the almighty Godhead, three in One.
165
Be not dismayd (Amanda) nor despaire,Although thy sinnes are of an ougly shape.
Boldly approach to God by frequent prayer.
Ther's yet a meanes, whereby thou mayst escape,
And stop hels mouth, though it so wide doth gape.
As bad as thou, have wallowed in like sinne,
Whose heart at last have let Gods spirit in.
166
Hilaria's daughter; Aphra, borne in Creete,A famous Bawd, as in those daies did live,
For prostitution did three servants keepe,
Common for any, that would money give.
She for her folly past, did so much grieve,
That by Narcissus of Ierusalem
Being converted, suffer'd Martyrdome.
58
167
Niceta faire, and Aquilina to,Both famous strumpets of admired feature.
Wereby St. Christopher, transformed so,
That each of them, became a new made creature,
Embracing grace, and quite forsaking nature.
And after many torments, and much paine,
Vnder King Dagnes, both of them were slaine.
168
Another Thais, an Ægyptian borne,Growne very rich by prostitution.
Of whose vile course, Panutius oft did warne:
Was wonne at last, by's admonition,
Vnto a godly, and devout contrition,
Went from the stewes, whereas she liv'd a Whore,
And in a Monastery died poore.
196
Pelagia of Antioch sometimeExceeding rich, and beautifull withall,
Immoderate in lust, and in her prime.
Her minde, that was before veneriall,
By Bishop Nonius, grew seraphicall.
Her sinnes bewail'd, her wealth at nought she set,
Liv'd, and di'd poorely in Mount Olivet.
170
See to thy comfort these, and many moe,Whose boundlesse lust had made them sathans slave:
Yet notwithstanding were converted so,
And from their sinnes retracted, that they have
By penitence (their wicked soules to save)
Through Christ obtain'd their sins to be forgiven,
And are now crowned blessed Saints in Heaven.
171
Thus the true penitents shall mercy finde,Although their sinnes are of a Scarlet die.
And sure, unlesse thou wilfully art blind,
Thou mayst perceive grace offer'd to thine eye.
59
Or else I see thee so expos'd to slaughter,
Earths plagues will seize thee here, & hels hereafter.
172
I see (me thinkes) a solemne CongregationAt Old-Bridevvell, of grave, and solid men,
Sitting together there in consultation,
What punishment shall be inflicted then
On thy polluted corps, and thou agen
Standing neere to them in another roome,
Trembling with feare, attending of thy doome.
173
The Iudges on thy pennance there agree'd,For executing of their strict command.
According as they had before decreed,
A Beedle comes, and takes thee by the hand
To bring thee forth, and lets thee understand,
That thou for all thy bravery, and cost,
Must walke with him unto the whipping post.
174
Whither he brings thee, straightwaies without staying,Puls off thy robes, and lockes thy hands up fast.
Then to his office, without long delaying,
Thy clothes pul'd downe, starke naked to thy waste,
He thereby lets thee understand the taste,
Of his smart Whipcord, where there doth imprint
Each lash a seame, and every knot a dint.
175
For flourishing with hand above his head,And shaking of his foure limb'd instrument,
In the descent, so learnedly they spread
About thy shoulders, that incontinent
Thy dainty skin, is all sanguinolent,
And so he deales his lashes one by one,
Till the set number of his stripes are done,
176
Thus being of thy silkes, and Sattins stript,60
And for thy impudent abuses whipt:
A poore blew gowne upon thy backe is plac'd,
And Canvas coyfe upon thy head unlac'd.
Where in that guise thou marchest from the stocke,
And then dost practise Hempe, & Flax to knocke.
177
This is the least of all that can betide thee,If by great fortune thou diseases misse.
The lash will scourge thee, and thy friends deride thee,
And whatsoever more disgracefull is,
That will attend thy shame, as well as this.
And nothing shall be wanting, till thou hast,
Plague upon plague, for all thy follies past.
178
Thus living in dishonour, and disgrace,A scandall to thy Kindred, and thy Friends:
Thy pleasure lasting but a little space,
Ripe in iniquity, thy glorie ends,
And to a dismall sad confusion tends.
And having lost thy credit, and good name,
Conclud'st thy daies in infamy, and shame.
179
For being turn'd into the open streete,Vnworthy of a chamber, or a bed,
Bare legg'd, not having shooes unto thy feete,
Nor any thing, to put upon thy head.
Scarce rags to keepe thy secrets covered,
Ly'st unlamented, for the lice to gnaw,
And eate thy flesh upon a pad of straw.
180
Where being full of aches, sores, and biles,Thy beauty turned to a tawny hue,
And that consum'd, which was so faire ere whiles,
Vnknowne of those, that thee but lately knew,
As a just vengeance to thy merits due.
61
Or di'st diseased in an Hospitall.
181
There lies thy pompe, and glory in the dust,Thy body cloth'd with rags, and all too torne,
Thy flesh comsum'd, and wasted by thy lust.
Loathed, condemn'd, disdain'd, and held in scorne.
Not one of all thy friends for thee will mourne.
Nor hardly thinke thee worthy for to have,
To hide thy stinking corps, a simple grave.
182
Loe here Amanda, view thy selfe at large,Behold thy life, and after that thy death,
Peruse each line, and letter, I thee charge.
Let it not be forgotten in a breath,
To thy best thoughts I doe the same bequeath.
Advisedly consider of the matter,
I tell thee what is true, and scorne to flatter.
183
And if it take effect as I desire,And breede a sorrow for thy time mispent,
If it shall cause thee from thy course retire,
And be a meanes to make thy heart relent,
And be reform'd by my admonishment,
Assure thy selfe that thou hast gain'd a friend,
That shall not faile thee till his life doth end.
184
For my sake therefore I adjure thee here,To turne thy course, and bend another way:
For thy friends sake, to whom thou shouldst be deere,
Come home unto thy selfe, and doe not stay.
For thine owne sake, I charge thee to obey,
And in compassion of that soule of thine,
Live not in darknesse when the sunne doth shine.
185
Pity thy yeeres, that are but young, and tender.Pity thy fathers care, thy mothers love,
62
Let thy acquaintance some compassion move,
Looke not still downe, but raise thy thoughts above.
If no thing else prevaile, let feare of God,
Worke thy conversion, and his threatning rod.
186
Strive to regaine the honour thou hast lost.And seeke thy ruin'd credit to repaire.
Thy conscience is benum'd with follies frost,
Let thy warme teares of sorrow thaw the ayre
That chils thy heart with nipping cold despaire.
And so dissolve thy crusty yce of sinne,
That hot repentance, may let mercy in.
187
Redeeme the time that thou hast spent in vaine,And persue honour as thou followd'st vice.
Although unwilling, yet thy selfe constraine,
Against thy will to vertue be not nice.
Tire not in acting goodnesse, twice or thrice.
But persevere from one unto another,
As happy daughter of a blessed mother.
188
And when thou hast this little Pamphlet read,And seene the scope whereto these lines doe tend;
Let them not passe an hower out of thy head,
Vntill thy sorrow make thy life amend,
And worke a reformation in the end.
Doe not, oh doe not, put them from thy heart,
But to thy sickly soule some helpe impart.
189
Then shall my prayers flie aloft with thine,And my desires seeke earnestly thy blisse.
Thy happinesse shall be to me as mine.
Thy godly sorrow, for thy life amisse,
Shall breed such joy, as none shall be like this.
The comfort that thy soule shall thereby taste,
63
190
In hope therefore of this my good successe,And of a happy welcome to these lines,
Wishing thou mayst thy wicked lusts suppresse,
I leave thee unto him, whose grace refines,
Praying his blessing unto these designes.
Heavens grant thee that which none on earth can give,
A life prepar'd to die, a death to live.
| Amanda | |