A Lytle and bryefe treatyse, called the defence of women and especially of Englyshe women, made agaynst the Schole howse of women [by Edward More] |
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 | A Lytle and bryefe treatyse, called the defence of women |  |
Edwarde More to hym that wrothe the booke called the Schole howse of women.
If thy name were knowen, that wrytest in thys sorte,By womenkind vnnaturally, gyuyng euil reporte,
(Whom al men ought both yong & old, defend with all theyr might,
Considering what they do deserue, of euery lyuing wyght
As in there trauayle taken, sometymes with losse of lyfe,
To brīg such wretches to this world, which make not only strife
But beyng come to perfyte age, can skant gyue & aforde,
Unto theyr dāmes yt gaue thē suck, so much as one good word.)
ywys thou shulde exiled be, from women more and lesse,
And not without iust cause, thou must thy selfe confesse,
Onles as in thy booke, so now thou lyst to lye,
Where are nothinges but rayling iestes of the pore femynye.
Thy booke intytled is the Scholehouse of women,
A tedious thyng for them to reade, not pleasant vnto men:
The style therof declareth no lesse, but that thou art right sage,
And lyued hast so longe perdye, that now thou dotest for age,
Lesse meruayle then it is, that if thy othe be spent.
And of eche one reiected arte and hated as the lent:
Though thy melancoly, thau canst not els assuage,
No kynde of way but only thus, on women for to rage.
Pean to be a folysh worke, thou dost testyfye
Whych lyke a learned poet, by the fygure onomatopei,
Trāsformed thou hast into pecock, as proude of hys longe tayle,
Marck I pray the well, how much there thou doest fayle,
Pean is more lyke in sounde in our mother tonge
To pehen then pecock, whose tayle is not so longe,
Nor set with sundry colors, nor of so pleasaunt hewe,
That she doth boast & brag theryn, is not thys ryght kewe?
All men that learned be, allowe the in no case,
All women eke that wytty be haue cause to curse thy face
All maydens that vyrgynytye, do couet styll to kepe,
Through thy accusacyons, haue now iust cause to wepe
I meane in matrymony, hauyng of god the awe
May well deryde & mock thy folyw & lewde pranck
Wherin, I dare be bold to say, thou had more payne then thank
In married men such feare there is, and such contynuall awe
That moost of them beleue ywys they be of moyses lawe
And fynaly to conclude, the beste and eke the wourst,
For thys thy foolysh entrepryse, may hold the well accurst.
Repent therfore repent I say, acknowledge ones thy fact,
Recant I rede the, & confesse, thy lewde & synfull act,
Which doth not hurte to one, but all of eche degree
Haue cause to bend theyre browes therat, as oftn as they it see
Although to call it in agayne, it be now past thy hand
yet to recant ease thou shalte fynd, I wyl thou vnderstand
For yf that Iudas perdan had asked by and by
Of god he had obtayned it, as scriptures testifye
Now to conclude and make an end, I wyll apply my wytt
In writing for good women all as is moost meete and fitt.
Finis.
Here begynneth the booke called the Defence of Women, made by Edwarde More.
Venus vnto the for help, good lady I do cal,For thou wert wōt to graūt request, vnto thy seruaūts al.
Euen as thou dyddest help alwayes, Aeneas thyne owne chylde,
Apeasing the god Iupiter, with countenaūce so mylde,
That though that Iuno to turmēt hym, on Iupiter dyd prease,
Yet for the loue he bare to the, dyd cause the wyndes to cease,
I pray the pray the muses all, to helpe my memorye,
That I may haue ensamples good, in defence of femynye,
Them to defend of dyuers thynges as slaunders manyfold,
I haue taken vppon me, as a Champyan bold,
Replye that lyst agaynst me I wyll them well Assure
To spende my tyme in theyr defence, whyle my lyfe shall indur
Although I want the grauytye, of Cato that was sage,
Which hard it is to fynde, in any of myne age,
And Ciceros eloquence is very hard to fynde
In a curtyer truly, accordyng to my mynde
Senecaes breife sentences, although that I do wante
Within Curtius style kepe me can I skant
yet Salust south in wrything trewth, I trust I shall attayne
And as directly as I can, declare my matter playne,
Fyrst I wyl make it manyfest that women beare much blame
And men are more infaut, deseruyng styll the same,
As the litle cobwep taketh the small flye,
The swallowe fleyng through easely passyng by
And as the pore & nedy man hanged is sometyme
When the rycher skapeth, for a greater cryme,
So doth the sely woman of eche degree and sorte
Runne in slaunder vndeserued, by meanes of mens reporte
Wherby thys proued be sheweth playne no lesse true then olde
That thei moost ofte that wurst may, the candle vse to holde
This to be true, what better profe then by Eue may be brought
Which dyd Adam attempt, to do that thynge was noughe
Bycause he knew her feblenes, not able to resyst
What was ye deuel? man or woman I wold some good deuyne
Wold take the paynes thys questyon to vs once to defyne
Aman, I thynke in dede, of Lucyfers owne trayne
For of a woman dyuell, I neuer red certayne
Whan Lucyfer fyrst fill into the pyt of hell
At gods appoyntment for hys pryde therin styll to dwell
There fell with hym a numbre moe of men, whose sodeyne fall
All women yet remaynyng here, may rue the tyme and all
Had not the serpent tempted Eue, who cold as sermyse?
So shamfull acte to bryng her forth of ioyfull paradyse
And besydes all thys, when she delyuered had
To Adam the forbidden fruyte, to taste & hym had bad
She knew then no deceyt, I dare for her appose,
And Adam then to tast therof, I thynk sure myght haue chose,
For she reherst the word addyng no whyt more
To that the synfull serpent, had to her told before:
And yf that he to Adam fyrst, had cum, no dowt he myght
Haue tempted hym aswell as Eue thys thyng declareth it ryght
Predestinate she was therto, to withstand it, not knowing how
All Chrysten men ought to lament therfore I make avowe
And not to cast it in her teeth, and on her thus to iest,
A foule byrde it is perdye defyleth his owne nest
Wherfore cam he to Eue? I haue tolde you before
Her lacke of strenght & nothyng els, was cause of her forlore,
yf lack of strength bewty wyt, in women be detecte
It lyeth not in them, these sayd thyng to correcte
Nature fourmeth folks accordyng is to gods wyll,
In god it lyed and wan els then to make or spyll.
But Adam beyng ruler of see and eke of lande
That Eue to hym was subiect, it may well now be skand
And hauyng strenght sufficient, wanting nowght but grace
So wolde offende our sauyour Christ to lese that ioyfull place
Wherin he felt no woe, wherin dyd nothyng mys
And yet men wyll transpose the faute to seely Eue
But no man that the trouth doth rede, wyl them I thynk beleue
Wherfore I trust I haue, declared here at large
That fawth cōmytted by the men, are layde to womens charge
Consydre now theyre ponishement appoynted by our lord
To helpe my saynges somewhat, no dout it wyl accorde
With daunger of theyre lyues, theyr children they do beare
Theyres ouerthrouges in labor, hys meruell to heare
And after they be borne what dilygence they wse
To bryng them vpin fearing god, no labour they refuse,
And we do dayly see suffyciently exprest
How nurses often wake when most men take theyr rest.
Wolde Iesus haue bene borne, of Mary vyrgyn myldee
And humbled hymselfe to her as a louyng chylde
Onles that they were innocent and as the do pretende
Styffe stowt nor arrogant, nor ready to offende
Alas may I saye than, that any Christen man
Shuld wryte such thynges by women that synce ye world began
I dare well saye, they neuerdyd, nor yet so much as thought
How much to blame are men to saye, that women be so nought
And them thus to vpbrayde, with theyr barre passyng loue,
with wāton eyes & sugred lippes wher wt mēs harts they moue
with all theyr myght & mayne, to follow wanton wyll
Wherin our poet doth recyte, they haue neuer theyre fyll
How farre from all the truth, how lyke it soundes a lye
By reasons moe them one or two, thus may all men it trye,
The hoter that the contrey is the proner to offende
And to venery, more lyke to condiscente,
The people are, and as I haue ofte rede
Where wyues are ryfest, there, a man may best be spede
And on the other partye the colder that is
The lesse desyre and appetyte they haue to do amysse
And besydes all thys, the fayrer that they be,
To more resorte of men there is, them to beholde and see
What dayly dryftes do men deuyse? vntyll they haue thē wunne
wyth Rome make I comparison if I may be so bolde
And England do affirme to be then it farre passing colde,
Wherby I meane in dede that Romaynes are more bent
Then Englysh women be to such thynges to consent
Lesse wander they abrode, wherby the byting ayre
Can theyr bewty in no point dyminish and appayre
Which of sundry wayes, the next way is of all
As I haue shewed a lytle before, customers to call
Where our Englysh women do spare them selfes no whyt
But vp and doune the fyeldes to and fro do flyt
The Ladyes to the Court do dayly take theyr traydes
Besydes a trayne of seruyng men, accumpannied wyth maydes
That be the wether foule, or be the wether fayre
To wether being open theire bewty must appayre
Wherby a man may iudge that of the people twayne
En Englysh women to be more chast, farre then the Romaine
This also I do note and thinke to be moost true
That most of al by yelosy daunger doth ensue
To men (in mine opynion) no people vse it more
In lookyng strayte vnto theyre wyues, as I haue told before
Wherby it fareth thus with them, to be a prouerbe ryfe
To iudge the romayne harlot, better then the wyfe
which vse not so frequent in England wherby
we Englyshmen do well auoyde that perlous yoperdye
Now of Romaynes haue I redde, innumerable good
As fyrst of all, of Lucres that cam of noble blood
when Tarquyn the proude, desyred her company
Lyuy wyll the same affyrme and testifye,
Thys Tarquyn (whome I named) dyd prese to do that dede
which caused her and also hym not very well to spede
Fyrst wyth fayre wordes began he Lucres to entrete
And when they could not take affecte, then he began th threte
with his naked sword, to take away her lyfe,
And fynally agaynst her wyll Tarquyn lay her by
The cryme is deedly for a kyng to do such vylany
which when by hym was dun, a way and he was gonne
She sendeth for her husband and kindred eche one
And bearyng in her hand, with her a naked knyfe
In presence of them all, she ended there her lyfe
But before she dyed as Lyuye doth reporte
with a heuy hart (god wot) spake after such a sorte
O my husband deare why do I lyue thys daye
Syth that (but not wyllyngly) I haue the now betraye
And most against my harte the godes do know right well
That feare of death and nothing els, was cause now that I fell
Tarquin the proud hath rauyshed me thys nyght
wherwith she wept full pyteously, her teares distilling bright
From her eyes, and sodeinly, dyd thrust into her harte
The knyfe, so ended she her lyfe, in dedly woe and smarte
Alas, what hart so hard, as is the merble stone
yf he had sene thys dolefull syght, wolde not haue made greate mone
For her, who lyeng ded as white as any lylly
whose cruell death dyd playnly shew and for her testyfy
That she was voyde from vice, not giltie of that gylt
And yet in satysfaction her hart blud there she spylt
Lucres of Tuskayne also is come vnto my mynde
which to Eurylaus shewed her selfe so kynde
That beyng but a straynger borne and her deperted froe
Dyed for very sorow, the story telleth soe,
why loued she an other, alas, syth she was wedde
Marryed she was against her wyll she had as leue ben dedde
As hym to husband take, but that she might not chuse
For at her frendes cōmaundement she durst hym not refuse
So that not only she, but tother of her sorte
Are to be lamented much, as voyde, of all cumforte
For of these twayne they must do one, wt god eyther nedes glose,
Or els if god they please, theyr parentes strayt way lose,
For though they haue but lytle, no dought they shal agree
What saye ye nowe to Ouyds wyfe, which banyshed to bee
Desyred much, & leaue al thinges in Rome where she was free
With her husbande to haue gonne, to take such parte as he
What fayth there is in womankynde, a blynde man may wel see
Susanna also and Iudith with dyuers others moe
Out of scriptures colde I bring, but nede requyreth not soe,
For of forrayne examples these are ynough to vewe
yet shall I one recite whiche also is moost trewe
A kyng there was yt in ye warres, had taken a greuous wounde
Hys surgens had assured hym, it wold neuer be sounde
Onles that all the nenom, that therin dyd lye hydde
were sucked out by mans mouth the king sayd God forbydde
The Quene yt hearing, hold her pease vntyll that it was nyght
When the kyng was sounder a slepe, yt heare him blow she might
Arose as softly as she coulde, and so by suckyng ofte
Had gotte the venom clene forth, that done, with clothes softe
She dressed hym full handsomly, and wrapt it vp agayne
And helede hym with medycens so that he felth no payne
what dylygence wolde man requyre? what seruyce of hys wyfe
What pledge of loue wolde he els haue? then to saue hys lyfe
wyth hassarde of her owne whiche she ought moost defende
Let men therfore remembre this, & theyr euyl tonges amende
The doughter two of loth, that lay theyre father by
Dyd in a good intend the world to multyply
And many thynges we reade permitted were by gode
In the olde Testament and in the newe forbode
For if the brother spared had the syster in those dayes
The world could not haue ben increst I think no kind of wayes
To cōme now to our cūtrey womē, why shuld men in thē dought
And saye they be replete wyth vyce synce straungers be without
Although that I haue authors none, but all that I endight
Long synce in author olde, I haue them redde full ryght
Whych beyng but payngans borne, I herein so much trust
And I my selfe but lyttle more then .xx. yeares of age
An Englysh man borne also, by nature nothyng sage
Onles I shuld declyne from all my progeny
Whose myrth theyre mery worke, wyll show and testyfye
Syth my mother tongue I dyd well vnderstande
I had no maner of delight in storyes of thys lande
Whych beyng true in dede, no meruayle thys at all
Though that my cuntrey womēs actes, to mynde I can not call
yet hath there bene within my tyme for nede I colde them name
That for the loue they bare to men, refused no kynde of blame,
Thyr husbandes whylest in pryson lay, trāsgressors of ye lawe
Deseruyng in death for theyre offence, and beyng styll in awe
Haue presed to the prese, of the thyck through and trust
As gree wt chylde as they myght goe therein you may me trust
And neuer ceased vntyll they cam, vnto the rulers face
And meekely knelyng on theyr knees, obteyned had theyr grace
And set theyr husbandes free agayne who had none other hope
To ende theyr lyues no kynde of waye but only by the rope
And in the tyme that Bullayne was, besegede wyth our hostes
I know yet certayne that do lyue, that went out of our costes
Left theyr frendes & kynsfolke eke to Bullayne toke theyr way
Unto theyr husbandes & their louers, skant restyng night or day
Untyl they had accumplisshed theyr yourney with great payne
where wife one foūd her husbād wel .iiii. foūd their louers slaine
what heauy hartes had they, that founde theyr louers dedde?
Smal ioye I thynke they wold haue had, an other strayt to wed
what teares were shede by them? what syghinge from the hart?
what sodayne sorow, heuynes, anguish, gryef, & smarte?
Suffred those pore soules no pen can wryte, nor yet tōgue well expres
Nor hart can thynke nor wyt deuyse, the some of theyr distresse,
As warre is counted pleasaunt to them not tryeng the same
So many thynk it but a sporte, to beare a louers name
A louer to be named an easy thynge perdye
And yf they loue vnfaynedly, what loue is they shall see
what ease there is therin, the syck therof can tell
Of these two thinges if that the choyse offree were to me
And that of them they one I must chuse no remede
To be sycke with loue or els the plage to haue
The plage I wold fyrst chuse of both so god me saue
The one within a weeke relesseth all the payne
The other in the harte tyll death doth styll remayne
Although a louer might, accumplish nestores yeares
which liued three hundred winter long, in authors as appeares
Of loue yet dyuers time shuld fele the woe and smart
Thought more heuye then the ledde lyeth at the louers hart
As I my selfe may wel affyrme, which tryed haue the same
And so may moe as well as I, that count it now no game,
These thinges well wayed then yf men of stomock stout
Say loue to intollerable I put you out of dout
Great meruale it ys I promise you that womens [illeg.]
Ys able to beare out so well, their dolefull heauynes
Alas their tendre hartes were oft lyke for to brast
Onles that teares of water sault distilled from them fast
yet some besydes theyr selfes with loue are oft certaine
Of them (more pyty ys) with vs there do remaine
Some man there is perchaunce that will of me enquire
Meruayling much that any man with loue is set a fire
And women with the same may or can take skath
Thinking it to be a thing which chaunceth very rath
For if that men and women loue, why do they disagree
In consentyng eche to other, thys daunger they may flee
This may be aunswered diuers wayes, and first of al by this
That not one man what degre, so euer that he is
To loue al kynde of women, nor yet one woman can
Fynd in her hart (I dare well say) to fansy euery man
what auayleth it then how mayne flee that payne,
Yf he loue that woman well that loueth hym not agayne
And on the other parte of a womans chaunce be so
Agayne if men presume to farre, aboue theyr owne degree
yf that they loue and can not spede, how can they then it flee
But men there be and not a fewe which do pretende to loue
And meaning nothing els but maydens myndes to moue
To loue agayne to the entent theyr purpose to obtayne
which when they haue, do draw away, and leue to loue agayne
Thus with sundry dryftes are, maydes and wyues deceaued
And ofte of theyre virgynite by men, maydes are bereued
which being lost and gonne, what great losse can be
what better thing haue maydens now, then theyre virginite
whiche causeth thē to wayle & wepe as haue they cause to iust
and though ye other meane good faith, doth make thē to mistrust
Of lyke handling of a wydow, I can declare right well
Betwene Dydo & Aeneas, as Uyrgyll doth it tell
Aeneas Troye beyng won, and all the towne was brent
Fled vnto the see, with troyans by consent
Councell helpe and ayd of Uenus the goddes
Of loue that was & hys mother as Poetetes do expresse
Take shipping for to sayle vnto a land
which prophesies did shew before shuld come into hys hand
He so long laye vpon the see, his vytaill being spent
Arryued in good Dydoes land whiche when she hard she went
Unto him to her that was, a straunger as I rede
And dyd obeysaunce, vnto hym, and home with her dyd lede
As one that all nobilitie dyd very much regarde
He wanted no good cheare ywis, no cost for hym was sparde
Continued he wyth all hys men in her courte certayne dayes
An refreshed them selfes as Poet Uyrgyll sayes
Required Aeneas Dydoes loue which when she graunted had
And vitayles to his ships be carried that she bad
Aeneas away sayled, skant byddyng her farwell
Nor for his entertainement thanked her one dell,
At leste wyse cam no more at her, nor yet vnto her sent
Which moued gentle Dydo much, & made her heart relent
Were not regarded, but for them cruelte was showed
And that Aeneas noble was, she thought hym to be iust
And well she wyst that now she had put her whole trust
In one that her deceaued had, no meruayle was it than
Though neuer after that she durst credyt any man
That Englyshemē wt maydes also haue playde ye selfe same feat
I shall declare vnto you here, out fye on all deceat
Of Englyshmen vppon a thyne, there were in Scotlande three,
whiche taken were as prysoners in pryson put perdee,
And there were lyke to lye, the ordre of that lande
To abyde ny remedy, ye may well vnderstande
Untyl they had theyr rasisons payed which how it might arise,
without frendes, the selfes but poore, they cold not wel deuyse,
Untyll at last that one of them, more crafty then the rest
Had tolde his fellowes to be donne, what he thought was best
That is to wyt that one of thē which was the handsomes man
Shuld fayne hym selfe exceding sycke, in ye best wyse that he can
Of what dysease thynke yee of fayned loue ywys
which to be true, no dout at aly, ye may percyue by thys
The yealer had a doughter, that was excedyng fayre
Unto these Englysh men wolde diuers tymes repayre
And treate wyth them of many thynges at last one of the three
Whose lot it was and chaunce the dyssembler to now to be
(The other twayne with drawing them as was agreed before)
Uppon ye yaylers Doughter looked, & syghed wondrous sore,
And causyng her to syt hym by, (as was hys owne reporte)
with faynyng herte and coūtenaunce, spake to her in thys sorte
I wold I had in fyelde bene slayen, but fortune wolde not so,
But that I shulde yet lenger lyue in dedly payne and wo
All my cuntrymen, that euer prysoners were,
Dyd neuer so vngnoyet hart with them, I know wellbere
For besydes that imprisonment is odyous to the fre
There is a thyng whiche more then that doth dayly turmēt me,
In so much that I therwith in lyfe coulde not remayne
My meanyng and intent hereby, I wold fayne that you knewe
I wyll my selfe declare yt playne, yf that you wylbe trewe
And swere vnto me by your fayth, you wyl it not dysclose
But secretely within your brest, you shall the same repose,
She sware vnto hym by and by, that honest if it weare
No liuing creature on the earth by her therof shuld heare,
No dought (sayde he) I put in you, but credyt do your othe
Beyng bolde to tell you that, before which I was lothe,
When I do prison fyrst, amonges the rest was brought
For my harde handlyng here, tooke exceding thought
But when I called to mynde, for what cause here wely
They had as iust a cause, to mourne, me though, as I
It chaunced not longe after, that, as we three sate here
Your bewtie brighter then the sonne, vnto me dyd appere
Reuolyng I then in my mynde, my harde and cruell fate
On fortune could not chuse but rayle, for chaūging myne estate
In my natyue countrey, of gentles come and borne
Here I lye replete with woe, as one that is forlorne
Besydes all thys, your loue, so perced hath my harte
That remedyles I wayle and wepe, and dubble all my smarte
And sythes I am now bonde, and lede thys carefull lyfe
Only may I wysh you, to be my lawfull wyfe,
Desyre (I wolde) and eke beseche of loue,
Onles I knew assuredly I shuld you nothing moue,
Being in this case, which if that I were free
your loue vnto an Englyshe man, your wolde not graunt perdee
But graunt that you colde loue, me onles I were a large
How shulde I able be, of your to take the charge?
But if that I conueyed were, strayte out of thys lande
And safe in my countrey were, I wyll ye vnderstande
And kyng were of the same, none on the earth but you
Shulde be the crowned Quene therof, to god I make a vou,
What ayuayleth thys my talke? to what purpose speake I thys?
Sith I know ryght well of you, that I shall mys,
But yet I can not chuse, my harte doth cause me so
Now you haue herd my case, consyder well the same
Could you loue an Englysh man, or do you hate the name,
In south be you assured, that if you can me fauor
And vnto husband take, I lyst not now to glauor
And euen as I loue you, so to loue me agayne
you shall diminish all my grief, sorow, thought and payne,
I shall you not forget, whilon that I lyue
Onles I speake euen as I think, neuer may I thryue
Therwith he wepyng fast, the teares distillyng fro
Hys eyes, gaue her a Iudas kysse, alas why dyd he so?
When she had herd hym speake, the wordes exprest before
Thynkyng no lesse in dede but that he longed sore
And doted in her loue, hauyng no mystrust
But thought by hys perplexitie that he was very iust
Her tendre hart then melted to see hym in that case
Wept and sobbed woundrous sore, that for a certen space,
She cold not speake one word, for sheddyng teares so fast
Her hart she thought immediatly, wold verely haue brast
When she had cesed her wepyng, and thagony was past
Pausyng with her selfe a while, sayd vnto hym at last
where yt you wysh your chaūce had bene, before this to be staine
No cause there is ywys, that dye you shuld so fayne,
And that your dobble improsoment, you lay vnto my charge
yt lyeth in my pouer to set you now at large,
For whither you loue your contrey, and set but lyght by me,
Or whyther you loue vs both a lyke, I can now set you free
And in accusing me, to hate the Englysh name,
Without a tryall of the same, in dede you are to blame,
To aunswere you therfore, as dyrectly as I can
I had rather marry you, then a Scottysh man
And plyght me here your troth, for so I thinke it best
And I shall do the some, and graunt you your request
Leade me with you home, & there do you me wed
According to your Englysh lawes, to bourd and eke to bed
Money for our charges ynough I shall prepare,
He swore vnto her othes ryfe, that all thinges shuld be so
well sayd she to morrow night, we foure, away wyll go
So when the nyght appoynted cam, the Yayler toke hys rest
Hys Doughter tooke of money, as much as she thought best
The keyes she stale away that lay vnder his hedde
The prison gate then openyng, away them three she ledde
which when they were escaped theyr peryll and theyr payne,
As crafty kaytyfes worthy death, dyd send her back agayne,
ye moderators of the scoles, ye iudges of the bench
was not this a heynous cryme, to vse a louing wench
Who for very loue of one, dyd make them al so free
And well contented was, with hym away to flee
Leuyng countree father, mother, brother kyf and kyn
But when she was betrayed, what sorow was she in?
Fyrst, what was her fathers gryef? the prisoners beyng lost,
What sorow to his harte? and to his purse what coste?
And when he knew hys doughter to be ledde waye,
In what a traunce was he? no man I think can saye
Hys wyfe and eke his sonne, and all the wenches kyn
Lamented much and dyd bewayle, her foolysh parte therin
And the sely wench, was in worst case of all
Not knowing for her life on her what shuld be fall
Wherfore she went not home agayne for feare as I do gesse
But ledde her lyfe tyll death dyd come, in wofull heauynes,
Thus may ye se exprest, the nature here of men,
And yet they wyll affirme women worse then them
Uyrgyll once appoynted to haue layen a woman by
Perswaded her therto, there was no remedy
And when that she perceyued, that he wold haue no nay,
So that you come this night (saith she) I wyl your mid obay,
I my selfe do lye (quod she, in a chaumbre hye
And my husband lieth beneth in a chambre bye
wherfore I can not well deuyse, how in you may be brought
No kynde of way but only thus, which now I haue be thought
A wyll let doune a basket, by a corde perdee,
Uyrgyll trusting so, his purpose to obtayne
According as it was a greed, at night he cam agayne,
Where he founde the basket by a lyne let downe in dede
And quyckly leping in trusted well to spede
When knowledge that she had, aboue, that Uyrgyll was therin
She plucked hym halfe way vp, that donne to make a pyn
Of woode or some lyke thing, she put her selfe in vre
Wherunto she tyed the rope for slydyng made it sure,
So that Uyrgyll when no way, escape knew how he myght
Of force he was constrayned there to tarry all the nyght
Untyll the next morninge, that it was brode lyght daye
Where when that he espyed was, al folkes at hym had playe
Thus it is ryght euydent and manifestly shewede
That women are ryght honest, and men are very lewede
As touching the apparayll now, which women vse to weare
Theyr verdyngalles and cassockes, the perting of their heaee
Wherwith that they waxe proude our Pote sayth sure,
At home lyke dyuelles they be, abrode lyke aungelles pure,
These thinges lowfull to be, and tolerable toe,
By reasons good and probable, I shal it strayt wayes shoe
A woman hauing nothing but at her husbandes hande
That he thus maynteneth her it may now welbe skande
Who is then in moost fauor? who ought to beare the blame?
Not she that weareth them, but he that byeth the same,
Tollerable not withstanding, that such apparayle is
What harme lyed hydde therein, I wolde fayne knowe but this
First, to a cassocke (I am sure) lesse cloth they do allowe
Then to agonne or frocke, wherfore consyder now?
More profyt is it farre, lesse cost also perdye
Honest therfore his, it can none other be,
For Tully in his Offices, sheweth by wordes exprest
That nothing can be profitable, onles it be honest,
To the parting of theyr heare and showing of the same,
yf men do the lyke thyng, why beare they then no blame?
In combing of theyr berdes, in strokyng them full ofte
In plaitting of them diuers wayes, in byndyng thē in bandes
Wherein their hole delyght alwayes, consystes and standes
No meruayle then though women lerning it of men
Do combe and plat theyr heare, & dresse it nowe and then
yet women be dispraysed where men are moost in faute
Exāples such to gyue theyr wyues, which they acōpt so naught
yf a precher shulde vs teach, drunkennes to shun,
And hedlong to that vyce, he hym selfe shuld run,
Who were in most fault who were most worthy blame,
He that herde the sermone, or he that preced the same,
As touchīg now theyr verdingalles, which do men much offēde
I deferre them not tyll now as hard for to defende
For as men in thother thinges haue bene in greatest cryme,
So can I not holde them excused, at thys present tyme,
Who fyrst inuented vardingalles it must be called to mynde
And by whom also they were made, we must in lykewyse fynde
Taylers (as I gesse) were the fyrst founders then
What kynde of people be they women or els men
The most of all our fashyons of garmentes whiche we vse,
Of what so euer sorte they be playne or els dyffuse,
Straungers them inuent, of straungers them we lerne
As by our Spanysh hose & shoes, a man may well dyscerne,
The french gownes & the Duche, which women vse to were
And also theyre french hoodes, theym broddyng of theyr heare,
From Fraunce & Flaūders fet were, by merchandes of our lande
They tought their wiues to were ye sawe it may be vnderstāde
For women trauaill not to see the countreyes farre,
For although they wolde, theyr husbandes yet wold thē therof quite barre
But if there be anoueltye chaūced in Almayne,
Fraunce, Flaunders, Italy, Portyngale, or Spayne,
Or any other regyons where men haue ledde theyre lyues
At theyre cōmyng home, they declare it to theyre wyues,
And some for lacke of newes, some thinges they do deuyse
Accompting it a shame, there be some so precyse,
To know nothing al all and so long tyme to spende
And tollerable it ys (the south to say) in those
That a yoyrney vnto Rome, vnto them selfes haue chose,
For thei that come from thence, as one doth specyfye
May tell a lye or twayne, by Romes authoritie,
what pride can the pore verdyngalles increase in women kynde
The stuf that goeth to the same, is easy for to fynde
As fustian or buckram, lystes and eke redde cloth
A costly thing I promise you that men shuld be so wroth
Suppose they be of veluet, sylk or cloth of gold
what wytty man is he? therwith fynd fault that wold
Although for money often times there is debat & strife
And for the same many a man in time hath lost hys lyfe
Yet money is not euyll, nor ought to beare no blame
The only fawt remainth in them, that do mysuse the same,
So garmentes, I affirme, what so euer that they be,
Are decent for all wemenkinde, regarding theyre degre
As sone may a man, in a begger fynd,
As proude an hart as in a lorde which groweth out of kind
The prouerbe semeth contrary to iudge pryde in the lord
For euyl doth a lordes hart and a beggers purse accord
where excessyue talke is layd to womens charge,
And that men cast it in theyr teeth, theyr tōgues to run at large
Graunt it so to be, as itis not verely
But that they be thus staundred alas what remedy
yet were it but a small fault, in authors syd we fynde
True to be and credyble, wordes to be but winde,
Theyr tonges I think offended haue, on earth no lyuing man
And if thei had, forthat that men, neyther will nor can,
With them once beare, how farre they run astraye
ye shal perceyue if that ye note, sainct Peter who doth saye,
ye men bere with your wyfes whiche weker vesselles be,
But yet the weke the burden bere, as ye may herby see
Many husbandes all the day, sytting at the wyne,
At night comyng relyng home as dronken as are swyne,
Theyr wyfes therof ashamed be, and thē strayt way exhort
wherwith the men waxe angry, theire wyfes be so bold
And if they speake a lytle loud, men say strait away they skold
wherfore I meruaile much and so do moe then I
That women beare so great a blame, & no cause to be why
And fynally to conclude, I haue the greater ruth
That innocētes shuld slaūdred be, but time shall trye the truth.
Finis.
The Author to his Booke
Goe for thou lytle booke, looke with a smilyng cheareTo women shalt thou well come be, therof thou nedest not feare
yf it be thy chaunce, our English Courte to see,
Then vnto our ladyes there, I great them well by the,
Or if it be thy pleasure, in London to remayne
Be haue thy selfe so honestly, that none do the disdayne
Or whither best it lyketh, the in the wyld cuntree
To dwell or euery where a suierner to be,
To maidens, wydowes, wyues of euery degree
Obedient be and be vnto them commaunded haue thou me,
Of any man do happen in contrey or in toune
For prasing womenkind, on the to cast a froune,
Thus mayst thou aunswere well, that all that thou hast sayd
Are so true and manifest thei can not be denayed,
Some agayne perchaunce wyll fynd fault with thy style
As rough rude and barbarous nedyng the smitthes fyle
Tell them that neyther age, nor wyt that is in me
Can make a booke more eloquent then this which now they se,
Good wyll was it enforced me, to wryte this lytle booke
Let the readers then therof, on the meanyng looke,
With myndes indifferent, let them the same well vewe,
Then shall they well pereyue & see, that I haue written trewe
whych yf they shall denyd, theyr errour wyll appeare,
For Leuy Uyrgyll, Ouyd, will witnes with me beare,
Of thother thinges which are, in thys treatyse showen
The resydue by reason debated haue I well,
As I do gesse at least wyse, that learned be can tell,
yf any thing vndicent or rude be in my ryme,
Let them impute the same, to bryefnes of the tyme,
yf flattery alleged be & layde vnto my charge
That to please womenkynde I haue written so large
In the disprayse of men, which I ought not haue dun
For that I am a man, and into daunger run
Perhaps I am, yet let men note well this one thinge
That they that I haue named haue bene of vicious lyuinge:
As Adam and Aeneas wyth the three Englysh men
That in Scotland prysoners were, let vs merke well then
The actes of all these fyue, for which I haue them blamed
In Oxforde in Cambridge, I thinke not one that named
Myght be whych coulde by reason good defende
Or theyre lewde pagentes played so much as ones cōmende,
For soner may a man by sophystry well proue,
The mouse and the Olyphant very well to loue,
Betwene foxes and gese perpetuall amyte
To wofes and the lambes, vnfaynede frendes to be
Then theyre deceytes to womenkinde before by me exprest,
May by any learned man be proued to be honest
I do not therfore repent my selfe, that I haue on me take
Thys lyght and easy enterprise for all good womens sake
Although I know assuredly that diuers wyl euyl talke
I am nothing dismayde therwith, syth god on earth dyd walke
And coulde not please nor satisfye all men no kynde of waye
Shall I then looke to do that thing that god cold not do, naye
Wherfore though goodmen do it prayse, & euyll do discōmende
It forceth not (the truth to saye) and thus I make an ende.
FINIS.
| A Lytle and bryefe treatyse, called the defence of women | |