University of Virginia Library



THE DESCRIPTION of a good VVife:

Or, A rare one amongst Women.



The Argument.

In pursuit of Loues enquest,
Heauy-eyde Musophilus,
Restlesse takes himselfe to rest,
And desplaies his fortunes thus.
In his sleepe (deaths shade) appeares
Age, the honour of mans life,
Old in houres as well as yeeres,
Who instructs him in a Wife,
And in briefe assayes to show,
Who is good, who is not so.
Next his choice, hee shewes his Sonne,
(Lest he should his choice neglect)
What by him ought to be done
To his Wife in each respect,
Who though shee should euer feare
To giue cause of iust offence,
Yet he ought not domineere
'Cause he has preheminence;
For that conquest's worthy no man,
Where the triumph o're a woman.


Age retires, yet in retire,
Wakes close-eyde Musophilus,
Where he sees whom his desire
Bids him wooe, and wooing chuse:
Woo'd and won, he doth inuite
Such as aime at vertuous ends,
To be present at the Rite
Of two selfe-vnited friends:
Who if they will, come they may,
If they will not, they may stay.


A good VVife

Downe by a vale a pleasant shade there was,
By which a siluer streamling past,
Where I retir'd and sate me on the grasse,
Whilest my deiected eye with sleepe lockt fast,
Presented thousand obiects where I was;
'Mongst which a grauer Module then the rest
Appear'd to me, and made it thus exprest.
A graue olde man of reuerend aspect,
Whose yeeres imported somthing that was good,
In sable habit, shewing his neglect
“Of earthly Fortunes, as an obiect stood,
To caution me (me thought) of that respect
Which I should haue, and euer ought to haue
Of my times Mansion, Frailty, and my Graue.
A Sithe, an houre-glasse, and a waterpot,
A fatall Deaths-head, Shrowding-sheete, and Beare,
An vrne of mouldred ashes, which were got
From some darke charnell house as t'did appeare,
Where on was writ, This is our frailties lot,
This's all we shall possesse of all our store,
This beggers haue, and Princes haue no more.


The se were the reliks which this old mā brought
Which oft he mou'd and brandish'd ouer me,
And still by teares he seem'd as if he sought
To caution me of my mortality,
But 'las his teares still drown'd his speech me thought,
Till he at last by force did silence breake,
And to me sleeping thus began to speake;
Good rest my Sonne, yet (Sonne) retire from rest,
And heare thy Father, pray thee then awake,
For though I'me dead, yet is my loue exprest
Euen in my death; then for thy Fathers sake,
Lay vp these last instructions in thy brest,
Which with obseruance if thou keepe, they may
Cheere thee both here, and in the latter day.
Thou knowest my Sonne, though thou wert last in birth,
Thou wert not least in my affection too,
Witnesse my care of thee, while I on earth,
Soiorned there in that same vale of woe;
Yea, I may say, euen in my comforts dearth,
When grieues and sorrowes did enuiron me,
Which frustrate hopes supplied their hope in thee
Nor could I thinke so many a widowes prayer,
Orphanes well wishes, and the poore mans vow,
Would turne my fruit of hope into despaire,
Since vowes, prayers, wishes, did distinctly show
Their loue to me for my deuoutest care,
Which from my heart I euer aimed at,
To right their wrongs, and settle their estate.


O let my hopes then now in my decease,
Confirme my Blessing which I gaue to thee;
So shall thy Soule enioy that soueraigne peace
Which was prepar'd 'fore all eternitie,
For such as made a prosperous encrease
In euery vertuous action, which Ile show
Succinctly to thee in a word or two.
First then my Sonne, because I finde thee here
In th' Ile Foolonia, where so many come,
VVhose names & Natures with the Ile cohere,
I must by way aduertise thee of some
VVho (in disguise) not as themselues appeare
Earths polititians, who'l not stand to staine
Their soules pure lustre for a little gaine.
These can dispēce with faith, & wil profes
What they least thinke: to guild their guile they'l swear:
Yet be their oathes shrowdes to licentiousnesse,
(Which thogh they seem a faire pretēce to beare,)
Take but their vizard off, they're nothing lesse,
Then what they did protest: Beware of them,
For these be dangerous Hollow harted men.
Yet these be fooles, though they be politike,
In that they aime more at a priuate good,
A sensuall pleasure, honour, or such like,
Then at that supreame end, which vnderstood,
VVould their conceits to admiration strike;
For weak's their iudgement, and election rash.
That poize souls treasure lesse thē worlds trash.


Next vnto these, be such as doe aspire
Aboue their pitch, and with ambitious wings
So are far aboue their sphere: these do desire
Nought more then to be popular, which brings
A timelesse merited end, for they conspire
Their owne subuersion: for few euer haue
Ambition sene graye-headed to her graue.
These reach at Scepters, but do ofttimes fall
Below their Center, and though they do make
Their owne opinions Axioms, and will call
Nought good, but what themselues do vndertake
Yet by a publiqe verdit, when they shall
Conuicted bee, then they'le confesse & say,
Non (thogh more seemin-gwise,) more fools thē they.
Next these be Prodigals, who spend their time
Like Circes chanted guests: these are but men
Onely in forme, for th' part which is diuine,
Remaines obscure and darker shines in them
Then a small star cloath'd in a cloud doth shine.
These men we well may formal shadowes call,
For saue meere shadowes, these are nought at all.
Alcynous mates, such as were borne to bee
But not to liue, pageants that goe and moue,
And weare good cloath's, yet view thē inwardly,
They are but Trunks at best, or Apes, that loue
Or make a shew of loue, whose ends we see,
When they haue run on shelfe their whole estate
Their Brothell greeting's changd into a grate.


And are not these vaine fooles, that make a losse
Of credit, bodie, state, to yeeld delight
For one poor moment? ô when they shall tosse
Those leaue of their account where appetite
Made them insensate and that weeping crosse,
Which their profuser follies brought them to,
They'le style themselues then Fooles in folio.
Next be those staines of honour, which defile
Those Temples which ought to be dedicate
To an Ethereall power: These though they'ue stile.
Of women are nought lesse, for why they hate
What best beseemes that sex: & hence this Ile
Deriues her Name (and aptly doth it take,)
When th' stronger sexe is ruled by the weake.
These are those lures of death which drawe men on
Vnto perdition; These are they that show
Like Flowers in May, but they are withered soon
(Euen with one breth, for painting (if you blow)
Makes the Complexion to be quite vndone:
Vnhappie she that when she sees one breath
Dissolues her varnish, will not think on death.
Of these my sonne no more will I relate
Then what I haue: now meane I to descend
To teach thee somthing for thy own estate
And how thou maist be to thy selfe a friend
With a good Conscience, which to violate
Were worst of euills: and to forme thy life
Better, I'le tell thee how to chuse a wife.


Chuse thou thy wife (my Sonne) nor faire nor foule,
Nor gay nor sluttish; silent, yet knowes when
And where it's fit to speak, one whose chaste soule
Shews modestie in blushes, and will len
No eare to light affections but can coole
Heate of desire (for such desires may bee
In purest loue) by her enioying thee.
Chuse a fixt eye, for wandring lookes display
A wauering disposition; let her cheeke
Be without art: Chuse me a bashfull nay
Before a quick assent; for such as seeke
Husbands, for feare they should too long time stay,
Resemble those who know their ware is worst,
And therefore mean to sell't to whō comes first.
Chuse one that's so discreet knows when to spare,
VVhen to expresse herselfe in bountie, so
As neither niggard-nature may haue share
In her, nor lauishnes, when shees'd bestow
What Reputation claimes, which speciall care
Imports a soueraigne complement or end
To such, know when & where to spare or spend.
Chuse thee no gadder (for a wife should bee
In this respect (I'me sure) like to a Snaile,)
VVho (hous-wifelike) still in her house we see;
For if her care or prouidence do faile,
Her howse-affaires will go disorderlie,
And hardlie can that VVife endure to stay
In her owne house, whose minde's another way.


Chuse thee no liquorish Gossip, whose delight
Is how to please her taste, for seldome can
One that's exposed to her appetite
Conforme her to the state of any man,
VVhich to an honest minde would be a spite,
That when thou wish's thy wife a competent
Fitting her ranke, she will not be content.
Chuse thee no coy precisian, she is too smooth
To proue sincere, in simpringst looks we finde
Oft most deceit, for these (as th' water doth
Seeme calmest where thei're deepest) let thy minde
Be so prepar'd, as thou wilt euer loath
Such formalists, She-doctors, who haue sought
To teach far more then euer they were taught.
Chuse thee no wanton that will prostitute
Her soule for sensuall pleasure, there attends
Nought vpon such, but blasting of repute,
Horrid diseases, miserable ends,
With which their vicious liues doe euer sute,
And worst of worsts, that issue which is got
Of Such, may seeme thine owne, but it is not.
Chuse thee no VVife that is selfe-singular
She'le be her owne instructresse, and in that
Shee (through presumption) will be bold to erre,
Hating reproofe, which will orethrow thy state,
Beware (my Sonne) thou shalt be tide to her,
Which seruitude (though it be too to common)
Disualues man that's subiect to a woman.


Chuse one for vertue (though a Portion's good)
Yet deare's the Portion if thy wife be ill:
Ranke not in mariage with too high a blood
Lest with her birth she chance to twitt thee still,
Equalitie hath euer firmest stoode,
Where if descent of different order be
It's seldome sene that th' parties do agree.
Chuse one that's wise, yet to herselfe not so,
Louing to all, familiar to few
Inwardly faire, though meane in outward show,
Seldom conuersing in a publique vew;
Nor yong nor old, but has of yeares enow
To know vvhat huswife meanes, & such an one
As may supplie thy place whē th' art from home.
Chuse one that like a Bosome-friend can keepe
Th' imparting of a secret, yet before
Thou dost commit to her matters more deepe
And consequent, thy iudgement should explore
And sound her disposition, so mai'st reape
What thou expectst: for if thou find a power
Apt to conceale, make her thy counsellour.
Chuse one whose Spirit's ready to receaue
Impression of remorce for others grieues,
For such, best tempered natures euer haue
(And kind is she that others vvoes relieues)
Let her be open-hand'd to such as craue
If they be needie, for thou neuer heard
Almes (in charitie) lose her reward.


Chuse one whose Education is more good
Then curious, whose life's more approu'd
Then noted, chuse one vvhose Parentall blood
Makes claime to vertue and is more belou'd
For her more choicer parts, then to be wo'ed
To an vnchafter motion, being inclin'd
To prize her bodies Beautie by her mind.
Chuse one vvhose knowing Parents can augment
Their daughters portion by a firme aduise,
One who will measure her's by thy content,
Whose spotlesse thoghts be vvritten in her eyes,
Whose Brest is thine clos'd in one Continent,
Who know's yet seemes as if she did not know,
Inwardly good vvithout an outward show.
Chuse one who can play Mother, ere she haue
The name of Mother, one that hates nought more
Then not to learne, one that imprints her graue
Still in her memory, addes to thy store
With an aduised providence, nor doth craue
More of internall knowledg then to try
Her selfe on earth, and study how to die.
Chuse one who makes it greatest of her feare
T'incurre suspicion, that esteemes her name
Before a world of Treasure, that can beare
Affliction with in difference, and thinks shame
A Matrons comliest habit, one that's deare
In her Creators sight, and feares to do
Ought that thy selfe will not assent vnto.


Chuse one who doth desire to make each day
Her lifes Ephemeris, summing in th' euening tide
VVith what respect she past her howres away;
Chuse one that doates not on the name of Bride
VVith a new fangle itching, but will stay
To reason what it meanes, and is afraid
(In modest shame) to loose the stile of Maid.
Chuse one who's qualifide better in minde
Then Bodie: yet if she affect the straine
Of harmelesse chamber-musique, let her finde
Thy minde in consort with her, (for thogh vaine)
Yet 'tis an easie vanitie, and vnkinde
Mightst thou be deemd to bar her that delight,
Which may be shown euen in an Angels sight.
Chuse one whose count'nance promiseth respect
Vnto her honour: one that spends the morne
In praying, not in painting, whose neglect
Is in out-landish fashions, and doth scorne
To fancie that which lightnesse doth affect:
One whose liues pattern rests as vncontrold,
And makes her Youth by imitation old.
Chuse one whose house hath no affinitie
With follie, lust, ambition, selfe-conceit,
Prophanenesse, discord, prodigalitie,
Schisme, Superstition, violence, deceit,
Oppression, surfets, damned vsurie,
For where these raigne (my Son) we seldome see
Descent of state vnto the third degree.


Chuse one whō thou canst loue, not for constraint
Of fortune or of friends, for what are these
That thou by them shouldst measure thy content?
No, No, in mariage thou thy selfe must please,
Or euery day will be an argument
Of thy succeeding sorrow, then be wise,
Carue for thy selfe, yet heare thy friends aduise.
Chuse one whose free election can admit
None saue thy selfe that she can dearely loue,
Yet so discreet as she can silence it
Till th' time her Parents shall her choice approue,
(For that implies her modestie and wit)
Where rash assents whens'euer they doe come,
Are euer seene to bring Repentance home.
Chuse one whose Conscience and religion meet
In one set concord with thee, for it's this
That cements minds together, and makes sweet
Th' vnseasonedst passions, giuing way to blisse
And future glory, where the peacefull seat
Of two distinct mindes now reduc'd to one,
Shews equall temper both in mirth and mone.
Chuse amongst these thou canst not Chuse amisse,
For here's a full variety of such
Will fit thy mind as thou thy self wouldst wish,
Yet (Sonne) attempt not with vnhalowed tutch
To taint their honour with a wanton kisse,
For that is but inducement vnto sin,
Sith Kisses be the keieslet Treason in.


Therefore chuse one, and that but only one,
One that may make two Bodies one-vnite,
One that is essence-lesse if left alone
VVithout her second; One whose sole delight
Is vanisht when her second soule is gone:
One that renewes her comfort in her make,
And ioyes in her affliction for his sake.
Yet know (my son) when thou this wife dost chuse,
And (after sute) art master of thy choise,
It's fit thou should this louely mirror vse
VVith that respect as she may hence reioice
To haue a mate so rightly generouse.
As with a Wiues-choise therefore I begun,
Il'e shew what by a Husband should be don.
He may command, yet should not tyrannize,
Shew himselfe head, yet not to make his wife
His foot, esteeme her as his only prize,
(All other Blanks) hate all intestine strife
(Saue strife in loue,) he should not exercise
The patience of his wife, for one may wrong
Silence too much, and force her haue a tongue.
He may expresse his loue with modestie,
Yet neuer coll and kisse in open place,
For I should deeme such loue hypocrisie
Or some such thing, if I were in her case;
And better is loue showne in priuacie
Then 'fore the eies of men, for they will skan
Fondnesse or indiscretion in the man.


He may be free in loue, for shee's his owne,
Yet such a loue as is exempt from staine
Of an insatiate lust: he should not frowne
T'expresse his aw too much, his best of gaine
Should be to make her vertues riper growne;
He should dispence with lighter faults, not vex
Himselfe for trifles, shee's the weaker sex:
He may restraine her, but t'is not so good,
Restraint giues women greater appetite;
He may doe much, but who would wrong his blood,
His flesh, himself? he may curb her delight,
But who knows not whē women's most withstood
Their wil's most forward & their wits most neere thē
And wil be frolike thogh thēir husbāds heare thē?
He may haue care, but carking it is worse,
He may be getting, yet he should not scrape;
He should not slaue himselfe vnto his purse,
But freely vse it for his credit sake:
He shold not wean his wife from ought by force,
But by perswasion: for deprau'd's her will,
That's only forc'd by violence from ill.
He may part stakes, or all, but it were better
To ioine in purse as they doe ioine in care,
Where each to other may remaine a debter,
For where the man doth limit th' Wife a share,
Oft turnes the Wife to be her husbands cheater,
Which to preuent (if hee'le be sure of her)
In stake, state, store, make her his Treasurer.


He may be Iealous, but't implies suspect
That he misdoubts what he himself hath bene,
Or that he's troubled with som weake defect
His VVife perceaues, thogh to the world vnseene
And that from hence proceedeth her neglect
Of honour to his Bed: which (sure) would show
Basenes in him, and force her to doe soe.
He may picke cause and matter of offence
(But that would much degenerate from man)
He may heare such, as would sowe difference
Twixt their vnited loues; but if he scan
And rightly weigh mans natiue excellence,
He will conclude with this, that there is no man
So base, to vrge offence against a woman.
He may be busie where h'as nought to doe,
And intermedle in his wiues affayres,
But fit it is not that he should doe soe
For in employments ech haue distinct shares,
Nor she to his, nor he to hers should goe:
For so the Breeches she might seeme to weare,
And he a Coate-queanes name as rightlie beare.
He may thinke well on's wife, yet not commend
(For he doth praise himself, doth praise his wife):
He should in life prepare him for his end
And mould his end by forming of his life:
He should repose no trust in anie friend
In or without him, saue in the firme defence
Of a resolu'd and spotlesse Conscience.


Lastly he may (for it is in his power)
Now in his Exit, when he turnes to earth
To make his wife his sole Executour
And by that meanes to begger all his birth,
But I should rather limit her a dower
Which might her ranke and order well befit,
For then so soone she will not him forget.
These are the Cautions (Sonne) I'd haue thee keep,
Which well obseru'd wil crowne thy happy state,
Folding thy dull eyes in a cherefull sleepe,
Blessing thy fortune with a vertuous Mate;
Storing thy states content with such a heape
Of peacefull Treasure, as thou there shalt finde
Enough of wealth in thy contented minde.
Awake thee then, dull sleepe preuents thy Choice,
Here comes she whom thy fancy may approue,
Awake I say, and in thy Fate reioice
That thou hast met with such a modest Loue:
Come come, if thou in Reasons Scale wilt poize
Thy selfe with her, thou wilt not curious be
But take good Fortune while it's offerd thee
Awake, I vade: I wak'd, he vanished,
Where casting my amased eyes aside
Sent from the Recluse of a troubled head,
A modest bashfull virgin me espide,
Whom I approachd, being emboldened
By th' Apparition which assur'd no lesse
Vnto my hopes then honour and successe.


This Virgins name Simpliciana hight,
Daughter vnto Zelocto the precise,
Who had me once before discarded quite,
Because my weaker fortunes did not rise
To the hight of her expectance, yet that night
(So feruent is affection) did that Maide
Trace me along to make her Loue displaide.
Shame curb'd her tongue, yet fancy bad her speak,
While I suppli'd her silence with my speach,
And thus her passion for her selfe did break,
Whilst shee stood by and seconded the breach
With a teare-trickling eye and blushing cheeke,
Where thus I woo'd my selfe, yet in her name,
Shewing her loue, yet shadowing her shame.
Sir I doe loue you (thus I did begin)
I pray you make your selfe your Orator,
And so I did, yet taxe me not of sin
Or lightnesse, vnfain'd loue omits no houre
Though I be distemper'd, but will let him in
Whom shee affecteth, for when all's asleepe,
Loues eies are said continuall watch to keepe.
I haue a Mother Sir (and then she smil'd)
For well shee knew what I intend'd to speake,
Whom to obey i'me bound because her child,
Yet Reason tels me when we husbands seeke,
The stile of Parents is in part exil'd,
For we (by virgine-losse) lose our first name,
And as our husband's stil'd, wee're stil'd the same.


What then though Riches please anothers eye,
My reason tels me there is something more
To consummate true ioy, then can relye
On outward fortunes, therefore once I swore,
And I will keepe my vow religiously,
If e're I wed (as halfe resolu'd I am)
It shall not be the substance but the Man.
Yea, though I were oppos'd on either side,
(My Father heere, my chiding Mother there)
Yet neither of their humors should deuide
My deerest Soule from her orbiculer,
For I doe know, though that my Mother chide,
My Father fret, and both stand chafing o're me,
I did but that themselues haue done before me.
With that she broke her speech, with, Sr. quoth she
You wooe well for your selfe, but I approue
What you haue spoke shall be confirm'd by me,
Nor shall my silent passion shrowd my loue,
For as thy shadow I will follow thee;
Where I assenting to what both had said,
Kist and clapt hands, & so the match was made.
Now if you like our Match, giue vs our due
And bid your selues vnto our Nuptiall day,
Our best of welcome shall attend on you,
Yea, th' Bride herselfe (all nicenesse lay'd away)
Will meet you with a frollique game-some crue,
Where to your choice contents, & Loues among,
Wee'le be as merry as the day is long.
But if (through some dogg'd humour) you'le not come,
The Bride-groome saies, A Gods-name stay at home.