The Ten Pleasures of Marriage
by A. Marsh · English · Gutenberg #13872 · 401,522 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Ten Pleasures of Marriage
Author: A. Marsh
Dubious author: Aphra Behn
Editor: John Harvey
Release date: October 26, 2004 [eBook #13872]
Most recently updated: October 28, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13872
Credits: Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Victoria Woosley and the Online
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEN PLEASURES OF MARRIAGE ***
[Illustration: THE TEN PLEASURES OF MARRIAGE
Printed at London 1682
Published by the Navarre Society London]
THE TEN PLEASURES OF
MARRIAGE
AND THE SECOND PART
THE CONFESSION OF THE
NEW MARRIED COUPLE
ATTRIBUTED TO
APHRA BEHN
_REPRINTED WITH AN INTRODUCTION_
BY
JOHN HARVEY
AND THE ORIGINAL TWENTY PLATES
AND TWO ENGRAVED TITLES
RE-ENGRAVED
LONDON: MCMXXII
_PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE NAVARRE SOCIETY LIMITED_
_Printed in Great Britain_
* * * * *
INTRODUCTION
The Restoration brought back to England something more than a king and
the theatre. It renewed in English life the robust vitality of humour
which had been repressed under the Commonwealth--though, in spite of
repression, there were, even among the Puritan divines, men like the
author of _Joanereidos_, whose self-expression ran the whole gamut
from freedom to licentiousness.
It is a curious thing, that fundamental English humour. It can be
vividly concentrated into a single word, as when, for instance, the
chronicler of _The Ten Pleasures of Marriage_ revives the opprobrious
term for a tailor--"pricklouse": the whole history of the English
woollen industry and of the stuffy Tudor and Stuart domestic
architecture is in the nickname. Or a single phrase can light up an
idea, as when, a few days before marriage, "the Bridegroom is running
up and down like a dog." But, on the other hand, the spirit manifests
itself sometimes in exuberance, as when Urquhart and Motteux
metagrobolized Rabelais into something almost more tumescent and
overwhelming than the original. In that vein of humour the present
work frequently runs. The author is as ready to pile up his epithets
as Urquhart himself. Let the Nurse go, he says, "for then you'll have
an Eater, a Stroy-good, a Stufgut, a Spoil-all, and Prittle-pratler,
less than you had before."
It is, in fact, as an example of English humour--exaggerated, no
doubt, by the reaction from Puritanism--that _The Ten Pleasures of
Marriage_ should be viewed, in the main. It is true, however, that it
is of uncertain parentage and must own to foreign kin. A well-known
but (by a strange coincidence) almost equally rare book is Antoine de
la Salle's _Quinze Joies de Mariage_. It seems possible that this was
translated into English. At any rate, in the year in which _The Ten
Pleasures_ was published--1682-1683--the following work was registered
at Stationers' Hall: _The Woman's Advocate, or fifteen real comforts
of matrimony, being in requital of the late fifteen_ sham _comforts_.
Moreover, _The Ten Pleasures_ was in all probability printed
abroad--Hazlitt thinks at The Hague or Amsterdam. The very first page
in the original edition contains one of several hints of Batavian
production--"younger" is printed "jounger." The curious allusion to
the great French poet, Clément Marot, may also suggest a temporary
foreign sojourn for the author for though Marot was doubtless known
to English readers in the seventeenth century, the exact reference of
the allusion is not at all obvious. It very possibly reflects on the
fact that in 1526 the Sorbonne condemned both Marot and his poem
_Colloque de l'abbé et de la femme sçavante_; and Marot certainly
wrote about women and marriage. He is not, however, a "stock" figure
in English literary allusion, either learned or popular, and the fact
suggests at least familiarity with the literature of other countries.
But there can be no doubt of the English character of the text both in
general and in detail. It is redolent of English middle-class life as
it was in the days before our grandfathers decided that the human body
was an obscene thing and its functions deplorable. It has the
middle-class love of good food--Colchester oysters (famous then as
now), asparagus, peaches, apricots, candied ginger, China oranges,
comfits, pancakes--enough to make the mouth water. It has the solid
English furniture, with all its ritual of solemnity; "vallians"
(valences), "daslles" (tassels), big bedsteads, Chiny-ware, plush
chairs, linen cupboards. It has all the fuss of preparation for
childbirth--the accumulations of wrappings, the obstetric furniture,
the nods and winks of the midwife and the gossips, authentic ancestors
of Mrs Sarah Gamp and Mrs Elizabeth Prig--why, the haste to fetch the
midwife at the crisis might almost be the foundation upon which
Dickens built the visit of Seth Pecksniff, Esq., to Kingsgate Street,
High Holborn.
It has likewise many touches which show knowledge of the average
fairly prosperous English life--the merchant's, the shopkeeper's, the
sea-captain's. The author clearly knew the routine of trade. He knew
that at New Year's Day the "day-book" had to be fully written up for
scrutiny and stock-taking and sending out of accounts. (But the
pleasures or torments of love are such that "the squire is so full of
business that he can't spare half-an-hour to write it out." The brief
description of his feelings which follows, conventional, perhaps, to
some extent, has a certain life in it, as if the writer, embittered,
was recalling his own youthful experience.) He knew, too, what to-day
we only know in the mass through the newspapers, that a merchant's
business depends not only upon watching the markets, but upon the
actual supply of material--"what commodities are arrived or expected,"
and whether tea is up ½d. or tin ¾d. down, or if hogs closed firm. The
commercial world changes only its methods of communication and
expression.
The first chapter, indeed, is of genuine historical and literary
interest. From the literary point of view, it is a near
descendant--collateral, if not direct, and anyhow based on the same
English empirical humour of life--of Thomas Overbury's _A Wife_
(1614--only one unique copy of this is known to exist), John Earle's
_Microcosmographie_ (1628), in prose, and Thomas Bastard's
_Chrestoleros_* (1598), in verse. It is an early instance of the
stringing together, in a connected narrative, of the material
previously used only in short sketches or "characters"; and so it is
directly in the succession which in the end produced what is perhaps
the most enduring and individual phenomenon in our literature--the
English novel.
* A copy of the very rare first edition fetched £155 at the
Britwell sale in February 1922.
Of course the book says things we do not say now openly--though the
traditional _corpus scriptorum nondum scriptorum_ which almost all men
and even some women know is handed on, a rather noisome torch, from
generation to generation, solely by word of mouth, and flickers now
and again in _The Ten Pleasures_. But they were said openly then, and
by great writers. There is nothing here so nauseatingly indecent as
the viler poems of the Rev. Robert Herrick and the Very Rev. the Dean
of Dublin, Jonathan Swift, D.D. There are salacious hints, there are
bawdy words, but no more than Falstaff or the wife of Bath or the
Summoner or Tom Jones might have used--less, on the whole. There is no
need, to borrow a phrase from the book's sequel, to "make use of the
gesture of casting up the whites of the eyes." "True-hearted souls
will solace their spirits with a little laughter, and never busy their
brains with the subversion of Church and State government."
Certainly the writer favoured the jovial life. Food and wine flow in
his pages like milk and honey in Canaan. There is no room in his house
for the Puritans, not even, apparently, in the bringing up of his
child. "Those that frequent Mr Baxter's Puritanical Holding-forth"
must be merry when they come to his feast. He will have no
_Catechizing of Families_--a discourse published by Richard Baxter in
this very year 1683; and the only _Compassionate Counsel_--a Baxter
pamphlet of 1681--he is likely to offer to young men is to take life
lightly, as his hero does, and above all, not to marry.
For that is the true point of this lively piece of irony (the irony is
less well sustained in the sequel, _The Confession of the New Married
Couple_, and dropped altogether in the bitter _Letter_ at the end of
_The Ten Pleasures_). It is a savage attack upon women--upon (to quote
a Rabelaisian sentence) "the quarrelsome, crabbed, lavish, proud,
opinionated, domineering and unbridled nature of the female sex."
Women, he says, "are in effect of less value than old Iron, Boots and
Shoes, etc., for we find both Merchants and money ready always to buy
those commodities." The analogy is an unfortunate one, for one of his
implications is that women can easily be bought. But he--if it is a
"he"--is in deadly earnest. Love, marriage, he asks scornfully--what
are they? A romance, are they? The true happiness of life? Very well:
here are the pleasures of them. You will be in love and make a
match--and look at all the worry of the settlement, in which, by the
way, you may often be defrauded. You will get married--a fine
ceremony, with a fine feast; and all the nasty old women of the
neighbourhood will come and tell bawdy stories to enliven the
occasion. You get married, and thereafter you are at the mercy of your
wife, who will indulge your wishes or not as suits her mood. Your
house will be all awry if she has but a slight headache. When the baby
comes, the place will be filled with old women and baby-linen and
medical apparatus, and you will have all the anxieties of a father
added to the discomforts of a neglected husband. For the rest, your
wife will know how "to cuckold, jilt, and sham" as well as any gay
lady of Covent Garden. And so on.
Much of the satire is acute and well-turned, often novel in expression
if not in thought. But it is, as has been suggested, in the picture of
English middle-class life under James II. that the importance of the
book lies. Here is the domestic side of what the great diarists and
the great poets hint at, and the excess of which municipal records,
those treasuries of private appearances in public, chronicle with the
severity of judgment. You have the young couple going (alas that the
river for this purpose has, so to speak, been moved farther up its own
course!) for a row on the Thames, with Lambeth, Bankside and Southwark
echoing to their laughter. They might visit the New Spring Gardens at
Vauxhall; but they would probably avoid the old (second) Globe Theatre
on Bankside, for it was a meeting-house at which the formidable Baxter
preached. Or they might go into Kent and pick fruit, even as
"beanfeasters" do to this day; or to Hereford for its cider and perry,
the drinking of which is a custom not yet extinct. Or maybe only for
an outing to the pleasant village of Hackney. They would see the
streets gay with signs which (outside Lombard Street) few houses but
taverns wear to-day--the sign of the _Silkworm_ or the _Sheep_, or
that fantastic schoolmaster's emblem, the _Troubled Pate_ with a crown
upon it. And when they stopped for rest at the sign of a bush upon a
pole, how they would fall to upon the Martinmas beef, the
neats-tongues, the cheesecakes! It is true they might find prices high
and crops poor; but such things must be.... "This is the use, custom,
and fruits of war. If the impositions and taxes run high, the country
farmer can't help that; you know that the war costs money, and it must
be given, or else we should lose all." Had they learnt that as long
ago as 1682?
As a _genre_ work the book is not unique; rather is it typical. The
gradual social settlement after the Civil War, destined to develop
into stagnation under the first Georges, caused didactic works, guides
to manners, housewifery and sport, society handbooks, to proliferate.
_The Ten Pleasures_ mentions some standard works, which every good
housewife would probably possess--Nicholas Culpepper's medical
handbooks, for instance, and _The Complete Cook_, which indeed, as
part of _The Queen's Closet Opened_, had reappeared in its natal year
1682-1683. The same year saw the birth of such works as _The Complete
Courtier_, _The Complete Compting House_, _The Gentleman Jockey_, _The
Accomplished Ladies' Delight._ Life was being scheduled, tabulated, in
readiness for the complacent century about to open. It was also being
explored, not only in such works as _The Ten Pleasures_ and _The
Woman's Advocate_, but in others (entered as published, but in many
cases not known to be now extant) like _The Wonders of the Female
World_, _The Swaggering Damsel_, or _Several New Curtain Lectures_,
and _Venus in ye smoake, or, the nunn in her smock, in curious
dialogues addressed to the lady abbesse of love's parradice_--all
produced in that same _annus mirabilis_ of outspoken domesticity.
_The Ten Pleasures_, apart from its intrinsic interest, is
exceptionally important from a book-collector's point of view. It is
of the utmost rarity. There is no copy in the British Museum and none
in the Cambridge University Library. In fact, there are only two
copies known of the whole work--one in the Bodleian (wanting one
plate), and that from which the present text is taken. The Huth
Collection had a copy of the first part only. Both the fuller copies
contain the second part--_The Confession_--and evidently the two
parts, though they have separate title pages, and were published at
different times, were intended to form a complete work.
Who wrote the book? "A. Marsh, Typogr. [apher]," says the title page.
A. Marsh cannot be traced, nor is the work included in the Stationers'
Registers for the period. It may be that Marsh thought it too
licentious for registration (an improbable supposition), and so, as
Hazlitt suggests, printed it abroad.
But the initials A.B. at the end of the _Letter_ in the first part may
be a clue, though a perplexing one. It is a plausible guess that they
are those of Aphra or Aphara Behn, the dramatist and poet, the first
woman to earn her living by her pen. It is true that she was, so to
speak, a feminist: the preface and epilogue to her _Sir Patient
Fancy_ speak bitterly of those who would not go to her plays because
they were by a woman. On the other hand, she had a free pen, to say
the least of it, and often a witty one. And she had Dutch
associations. Her husband was a Dutch merchant living in London. She
had herself been on secret service in the Netherlands. She translated
a Dutch book on oracles. If the book was printed in Holland, she of
all people could get the work done. And she knew the city of London
intimately.
There are, too, some odd details in her plays, especially in _Sir
Patient Fancy_, which recall touches in _The Ten Pleasures_. She
introduces a Padua doctor on the stage. She shows, in several of her
plays, a curious interest in medicine, especially quack medicine. Sir
Patient, a hypochondriac, thinks he is swelling up like the "pipsy"
husband. Isabella, in the same play, says "keeping begins to be as
ridiculous as matrimony.... The insolence and expense of their
mistresses has almost tired out all but the old and doting part of
mankind." It is not inconceivable that in a freakish or embittered
moment this singular woman threw herself with malicious joy into an
attack on her own sex.
"Love in fantastic triumph sat...." Aphra Behn's great lyric
deservedly lives. If she wrote _The Ten Pleasures_, the sort of love
she describes in it still lives, but hardly in fantastic triumph. Yet
if we want to know our fellow-men, we must know something of it. Apart
from the curious interest of its rarity, _The Ten Pleasures_ is a
sturdy piece of human nature.
JOHN HARVEY.
* * * * *
PUBLISHER'S PREFACE
"Of the making of many books there is no end," nor is there an end to
the Romance of books, as the little volume here, privately reprinted
by the Navarre Society, is surely proof most positive. The original is
a small thick volume; it bears the imprint "London, Printed in the
year 1683," and but one perfect copy is known; that copy lay
unappreciated in the heart of London in an antiquarian bookseller's
shop.
Fortunately, however, for our literature and for students of the
manners of the commonality of the period it was seen by a colleague,
who wondered why he did not know it. After purchasing it he found the
reason why--the Bodleian Library alone possessed a copy of the work
(imperfect); later a copy of the first part (only) appeared in the
last portion of the sale of the great Huth Collection. The present
text is taken from the perfect copy mentioned above.
The curious title rather damns the literary interest of the book,
which presents pictures of the cit and his wife at work and play
which Fielding, had he lived in the seventeenth century, might have
written. It is thought that the book was printed in Holland, and if
so, it may well be that the ship carrying the printed sheets to
England foundered in the North Sea, or was sunk by enemy craft. There
can be no doubt that such a work would not have escaped the wits of
the time; if it had survived for ordinary circulation, mention would
have been made of it, however small an edition had been sold. No other
so likely reason for its extreme rarity presents itself.
It is reprinted, as faithfully as the altered manners of our time
permit, with a Preface by John Harvey, who attributes the work to the
industrious and sometimes brilliant Mrs Aphra Behn, a discovery which
the Navarre Society believe to be well grounded. They hope that the
issue of the book to their subscribers may help to confirm or refute
that lady's responsibility for so graceless an attack upon her sex.
Whether she did or did not write it, the fact remains that a work so
vividly representative of Restoration life and literature is rescued
from the obscurity to which its scarceness has hitherto condemned it
and worthily preserved for scholars and amateurs of the future.
* * * * *
THE TEN
PLEASURES
OF
MARRIAGE.
* * * * *
THE TEN
PLEASURES
OF
MARRIAGE,
_Relating_
All the delights and contentments that are mask'd under the bands of
Matrimony.
Written by A. MARSH, Typogr.
LONDON,
Printed in the Year, 1682.
* * * * *
TO THE READER.
Courteous Reader,
_This small Treatise which I here present unto thee is the fruit of
some spare hours, that my cogitations, after they had been for a small
time, between whiles, hovering to and fro in the Air, came fluttring
down again, still pitching upon the subject of the Ten Pleasures of
Marriage, in each of which I hope thou wilt find somthing worthy of
thy acceptance, because I am sure 'tis matter of such nature as hath
never before been extant, and especially in such a method; neither
canst thou well expect it to be drest up in any thing of nice and neat
words, as other subjects may be, but only to be clad in plain habit
most fit for the humour of the Fancy. If I perceive that it please
thee, and is not roughly or unkindly dealt withall; nor brain'd in the
Nativity, to spoil its generation of a further product, it will
incourage me to proceed upon a second part, some say of the same_
Tune, _but I mean to the same_ Purpose, _and apparelled very near the
same dress: In the mean time, with hopes that thou wilt be kind to
this, and give it a gentle reception, from him who is thine.
Farewell._
* * * * *
THE TEN PLEASURES OF MARRIAGE.
The Nuptial estate trailing along with it so many cares, troubles &
calamities, it is one of the greatest admirations, that people should
be so earnest and desirous to enter themselves into it. In the younger
sort who by their sulphurous instinct, are subject to the tickling
desires of nature, and look upon that thing called Love through a
multiplying glass, it is somewhat pardonable: But that those who are
once come to the years of knowledge and true understanding should be
drawn into it, methinks is most vilely foolish, and morrice fooles
caps were much fitter for them, then wreaths of Lawrel. Yet stranger
it is, that those who have been for the first time in that horrible
estate, do, by a decease, cast themselves in again to a second and
third time. Truly, if for once any one be through contrary
imaginations misled, he may expect some hopes of compassion, and
alledge some reasons to excuse himself: but what comfort, or
compassion can they look for, that have thrown themselves in a second
and third time? they were happy, if they could keep their lips from
speaking, and ty their tongues from complaining, that their miseries
might not be more and more burdened with scoffings which they truly
merit.
And tho not only the real truth of this, but ten times more, is as
well known to every one, as the Sun shine at noon day; nevertheless we
see them run into it with such an earnestness, that they are not to be
counselled, or kept back from it, with the strength of _Hercules_;
despising their golden liberty, for chains of horrid slavery.
But we see the bravest sparks, in the very blossoming of their youth,
how they decay? First, Gentleman-like, they take pleasure in all
manner of noble exercises, as in keeping time all dancing, singing of
musick, playing upon instruments, speaking of several languages,
studying at the best Universities, and conversing with the learnedst
Doctors, &c. or else we see them, before they are half perfect in any
exercise, like carl-cats in March run mewing and yawling at the doors
of young Gentlewomen; and if any of those have but a small matter of
more then ordinary beauty, (which perhaps is gotten by the help of a
damn'd bewitched pot of paint) she is immediately ador'd like a Saint
upon an Altar: And in an instant there is as much beauty and
perfection to be seen in her, as ever Juno, Venus and Pallas possessed
all together.
And herewith those Gentile Pleasures, that have cost their Parents so
much money, and them so much labour and time are kickt away, and
totally abandoned that they may keep company with a painted Jezebel.
They are then hardly arrived at this intitled happiness, but they must
begin to chaw upon the bitter shell of that nut, the kernel whereof,
without sighing, they cannot tast; having no sooner obtained access to
the Lady, but are as suddenly possest with thousands of thoughts what
they shall do to please the Sweet object. Being therewith so
tosticated, that all their other business is dispersed, and totally
laid aside. This is observable not only in youth of the first degree,
but also in persons that have received promotion.
For if he be a Theologue, his books drop out of his hands, and ly
stragling about his study, even as his sences do, one among another.
And if you hear him preach, his whole Sermon is nothing but of Love,
which he then turns & winds to Divinity as far as possible it can be
fitted.
If it be a Doctor of Physick, oh! he has so much work with his own
sicknes, that he absolutely forgets all his Patients, though some of
them were lying at deaths dore; and lets the Chyrurgian, whom he had
appointed certainly to meet there, tarry to no purpose, taking no
more notice of his Patients misery, and the peril of his wounds, then
if it did not concern him. But if at last he doth come, it is when the
wound's festered, the Ague in the blood, or that the body is
incurable. So far was he concern'd in looking after that Love-apple,
or Night-shadow, for the cure of his own burning distemper.
If he be a Counsellor, his whole brain is so much puzzel'd how to
begin and pursue the Process for the obtaining his Mistress in
Marriage; that all other suits tho they be to the great detriment of
poor Widows and Orphans are laid aside, and wholly rejected. Then
being desired by his Clients to meet them at anyplace, and to give his
advice concerning the cause, he hath had such earnest business with
his Mistress, that he comes an hour or two later then was appointed.
But coming at last, one half of the time that can be spent, is little
enough to make Mr. Counsellor understand in what state the cause stood
at the last meeting. And then having heard what the Plaintif and
Defendant do say, he only tells them, I must have clearer evidences,
the accounts better adjusted, and your demand in writing, before I can
make any decision of this cause to both your satisfactions.
There they stand then, and look one upon another, not daring to say
otherwise, but _'tis very well Sir, we will make them all ready
against the next meeting_; and are, with grief at heart, forced to
see as much and sometimes more expences made at the meeting, as the
whole concern of their debate amounted to. Then it is, come let's now
discourse of matters of state, and drink a glass about to the health
of the King & the prosperity of our Country and all the inhabitants;
which is done only to the purpose, that coming to his Mistress, he may
boastingly say, my dear, just now at a meeting we remembered you in a
glass, & I'l swear the least drop of it was so delicious to me, as
ever _Nectar_ and _Ambrose_ could be, that the Poets so highly
commend.
If Counsellors, and other learned men, that are in love, do thus; what
can the unlearned Notary's do less? Even nothing else, but when they
are writing, scribble up a multiplicity of several words, unnecessary
clauses, and make long periods; not so much as touching or mentioning
the principal business; and if he does, writes it clear contrary to
the intent of the party concern'd: By that means making both Wills and
other Deeds in such a manner, that the end agrees not with the
beginning, nor the middle with either. Which occasions between
friends, near relations, and neighbors, great differences, and an
implacable hatred; forcing thereby the monies of innocent and
self-necessitated people, into the Pockets of Counsellors and
Attorneys.
And alas the diligent Merchant, when he has gotten the least smatch of
this frensie, his head runs so much upon wheels, that he daily
neglects his Change-time; forgets his Bils of exchange; and is alwaies
a Post or two behind hand with his Letters: So that he knows not what
Merchandises rise or fall, or what commodities are arrived or
expected. And by this means buies in Wares, at such rates, that in few
daies he loses 20, yea sometimes 30 per cent. by them. Nay, this
distemper is so hot in his head, that thereby he Ships his goods in a
Vessel, where the Master and his Mate are for the most part drunk, and
who hardly thrice in ten times make a good voyage.
And who knows not how miserable that City and Country is, when a
military person happens to ly sick in this Hospital. If he be in
Garison, he doth nothing but trick up himself, walk along the streets,
flatter his Mistress, and vaunt of his knowledge and Warlike deeds;
though he scarce understands the exercising of his Arms, I will not
mention encamping in a Field, Fortification, the forming of Batalions,
and a great deal more that belongs to him.
And coming into Campagne; alas this wicked Love-ague continues with
him; and runs so through his blood, that both the open air, and wide
fields are too narrow for him. Yea and tho he formerly had (especially
by his Mistris) the name of behaving himself like a second Mars; yet
now he'l play the sick-hearted, (I dare not say the faint-hearted) to
the end he may, having put on his fine knotted Scarf, and powdered
Periwig, only go to shew himself to that adorable Babe, his Lady
Venus, Leaving oftentimes a desperate siege, and important State
affairs, to accompany a lame, squint-ey'd, and crook-back'd
_Jeronimo_.
And if, by favour or recommandation, he happen to be intrusted with
any strong City or Fort that is besieged, he's presently in fear of
his own Bom, and practises all sorts of waies and means how he shall
best make a capitulation, that so leaving the place, he may go again
to his fair one.
And alas, what doth not the Master of a Ship, and his Mate hazard,
when they are sick of this malady? What terrible colds, and roaring
seas doth he not undergo, through an intemperate desire that he hath
to be with his nittebritch'd Peggy? How often doth he hazard his
Owners Ship, the Merchants Goods, and his own life, for an inconstant
draggle-tail; that perhaps before he has been three daies at Sea, hath
drawn her affection from him, and given promise to another? Yet
nevertheless, tho the raging Waves run upon the Ship, and fly over his
head, he withstands it all. Nor is the main Ocean, or blustering
_Boreas_, powerfull enough, to cool his raging fire, and drive those
damps out of his brain. The tempestuousness of the weather, having
driven him far out of his course; his only wishes and prayer is, oh,
that he might be so happy, but for a moment to see his Beacon, those
twinkling eys of his dearly beloved Margery Mussel! Then all things
would be well enough! Tho he and all that are with him, were
immediately Shipwrackt, and made a prey for the Fishes. And if,
unexpectedly, fortune so favour him, that he happens to see the Coast,
oh, he cannot tarry for the Pilot! but tho it be misty weather, and he
hoodwink'd by Venus, still he sails forward, running all in danger,
that before was so far preserved.
And if the Shop-keeper once sets foot into this destructive
Wilderness, he doth nothing less then look to his shop, and wait upon
his Customers. Spending most part of his time in finical dressing
himself, to accompany his Mistriss, and with a Coach or Pair of Oars
to do her all manner of caresses. Then his whole discourse is, with
what good custom he is blest above others; but seldom saies, that with
waiting upon his Lady, and by indeavouring to please her above all
things, how miserably he neglects it, by which means, shop's not only
found without a Master, but the servants without government. And at
New-year, the day-book is not written fair over; and if any body
desires their reckoning, the squire is so full of business, that he
can't spare half an hour to write it out: For where he goes, where he
stands, what he thinks, what he does, all his cogitations are imploi'd
to think how delicious it is to press those soft lips of his beloved,
and then out of an unfeigned heart to be lov'd again, sometimes
receiving a kiss. Thus he idles away all his time, and all his
business with his sences runs a wool-gathering.
To be short, let it be what sort of person it will, they no sooner
touch the shell of this Marriage-nut, but before they can come to tast
the kernel they look for; they feel nothing else then thorns and
briars of sorrow and misery. If there be any one that thinks he is
gotten a footstep further then another, in the favour of his Mistriss,
and that in time he questions not th' obtaining his desired happiness;
immediately, that imagined joy, is crush'd with an insuing despair;
being presently molested with a fear, that Father, Mother, Uncle, or
Tutor will not like his person, or that he has not means enough; or
else either they, or the Gentlewoman, will make choice of another in
his place. Or, if he sees another have access to the Lady as well as
himself, at the same moment he's possessed with jealousie, and falls a
pondering how he shall make this Rival odious in the eys of her. And
if the other get any advantage of him; then he challenges him to
fight; hazarding in that manner his precious life, for the getting of
her, who when he had her, would perhaps, occasion him a thousand
torments of death and misery. Pray observe what pleasures this
introduction imparts unto us; alas, what may we then expect from the
marriage it self?
Really, those that will take this into due consideration, who would
not but curse the Gentlewoman that draws him into such a raging
madness? yet Lovers go forward, and please your selves with this
imagined happiness; but know, that if according to your hope, you
obtain her for a Bride, that at the least you must expect a sence and
feeling of the Ten insuing Pleasures.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Folio 10. _Published by the Navarre Society, London._]
THE FIRST PLEASURE.
_The Consent is given, the Match concluded, and the Wedding kept._
Now, O Lover, till this time you have been indeavouring, slaving,
turmoiling, sighing, groaning, hoping and begging to get from those
slow and tardy lips, that long-wish'd for word of Consent; you have
also sent many messengers to your Mistriss, to her Parents and Tutors,
who were as able to express themselves as the best Orators, but could
obtain nothing; yet at last that long desired Word, is once descended
by the Draw-bridge of her lips, like a rich cordial upon your
languishing heart. You have vanquish'd all your Rivals. Oh who can
imagine your joy! What you think, or what you do, still your thoughts
glance upon your happiness! your Mistriss now will be willing; denials
are laid aside: only ther's a little shame and fear, which canot of a
sudden be so totally forgotten, because the marriage is not yet
concluded. Well, O Lover, who could desire a greater happiness then
you now possess! For what you will, she will also: and what she
desires, is all your pleasure. You may now tumble in a bed of Lillies
and Roses; for all sour looks, are turn'd to sweet smiles, and she
that used to thrust you from her, pulls you now every foot to her.
Yea, those snow-white breasts, which before you durst scarce touch
with your little finger; you may now, without asking leave, grasp by
whole handfuls. Certainly, they that at full view, consider all this
rightly; who can doubt but that you are the happiest man in the World?
O unspeakable pleasure!
But, O triumphant Lover, let not however your joyfull mind run too
much upon these glistering things: be a little moderate in your
desired pleasures, if it might happen that there come some
cross-grain'd obstructions; for I have oftentimes seen, that all those
suspected roses, come forth with many pricking thorns; insomuch that
the mouth which at first was saluted with so many thousand kisses, and
appear'd as if it had been cover'd with the dew of heaven; was
compared to be the jaws of _Cerberus_. And those breasts, which before
were the curded _Nacter_-hills, and called the Banket of the Gods, I
have seen despised to be like stinking Cows-Udders, I, and call'd
worse names to boot. Be therefore, (I say) somewhat moderate and
prudent, for fear it might happen that the prices of this market might
fall very suddenly, though perhaps not so horribly.
Nevertheless you have great reason to be merry, for this week, 'tis
hop'd there'l be a meeting to close up the match; and it is requisite,
that you should go unto all the friends, that must be present at the
meeting, to hear when their occasions will permit them, and what day
and hour they will appoint to set upon the business, herewith you have
work to traverse the City, and who knows whether you'l find half of
them at home. And then those that you do find, one is ready to day,
another to morrow, a third next day, or in the next week. So that by
this first Pleasure, you have also a little feeling of the first
trouble. Which, if you rightly consider, is to your advantage, because
you may the better use your self to the following. And of how greater
State and Quality the person is whom you have chosen, so accordingly
this trouble generally happens to be more.
But the mirth increases abundantly; when, after your indeavours,
troubles and turmoils, you finally see all the friends met together,
and you doubt not but the match will be closed and agreed upon. But be
here also a little moderate in your mirth, because oftentimes the
friends handle this matter like a bargaining; and will lay the mony
bags of each side in a balance, as you may see by the Plate.
In the mean while you may be kissing and slabbering of your Mistris in
the next room; or contriving what's to be done about the marriage, and
keeping of the Wedding; but perhaps, through the discord of the
friends, it will not be long before you are disturb'd; the differences
oft rising so high, that the sound thereof, clatters through the
Walls, into the ears of the Lovers. For many times the Portion of one
is too great, and what's given with the other is too little; or that
the Parents of the Bridegroom, promise too little with their Son; and
the Brides Parents will give too little with their Daughter. Or else
that by some subtle Contract of Matrimony, they indeavour to make the
goods of each side disinheritable, &c. So that it appears among the
friends, as if there could be nothing don in the matter.
And in plain truth, the Parents and friends, who know very well that
it is not all hony in the married estate; see oftentimes that it were
better for these two to remain unmarried, then to bring each other
into misery; and can find no grounds or reasons, but rather to
disswade then perswade the young folks to a marriage.
But tho, on each side, they use never such powerfull arguments, to
the young people, 'tis to no purpose; for there's fire in the flax,
and go how it will, it must be quencht. For the maid thinks, if this
match should be broke, who knows but that all the freedom that we have
had with one another, might come to be spread abroad, and then I am
ruined for ever. And the young man, seeing that his Mistris is so
constant to him, not hearkning to the advice of her friends, is so
struck to the heart with such fiery flames of love, that he's resolved
never to leave her, tho he might feed upon bread and water, or go a
begging with her: So, that he saies, Bargain by the Contract of
Matrimony for what you will, nay tho you would write Hell and
Damnation, I am contented, and resolve to sign it: but thinking by
himself, with a Will all this may be broken, and new made again:
hardly beleeving, that this fair weather, should be darkned with black
clouds; or that this splendent Serenissimo, would be obstructed by
Eclipses.
But finally, there comes an appearance of the desired pleasure; for
the knot is tied, and the Publick Notary doth at large and very
circumstantially write the Contract of Matrimony, which is signed by
both parties. Oh Heavens! this is a burthen from my heart, and a
Milstone removed out of the way. Here's now right matter for more then
ordinary mirth; all the friends wish the young couple much joy; about
goes a health, the good success of the marriage, and every one wishing
them tubs full of blessings, and houses full of prosperity,
_If ev'ry one that wish, did half but give,
How richly this young couple, then might live._
Yet it e'en helps as much as it will; if they get nothing, they lose
nothing by it. And thinking by themselves, you'l in time see what it
produces. Then if there be but one among them who is talkative, and
that by drinking merrily the good success of the approaching marriage,
his tongue begins to run; he relates what hapned to him at the closing
of his marriage, keeping of his wedding, and in his married estate;
and commonly the conclusion of his discourse is, that he thought at
first he had the World at will; but then there came this, and then
that, and a thousand other vexatious things, which continually, or for
the most part of the time with great grief and trouble had kept him so
much backward, that it was long before he could get forward in the
World.
Well, M^{r}. Bridegroom, you may freely tickle your fancy to the top,
and rejoice superabundantly, that the Match is concluded; & you have
now gotten your legs into the stocks, and your arms into such desired
for Fetters, that nothing but death it self can unloosen them.
And you, M^{rs}. Bride, who look so prettily, with such a smirking
countenance; be you merry, you are the Bride; yea the Bride that
occasions all this tripping and dansing; now you shall have a husband
too, a Protector, who will hug and imbrace you, and somtimes tumble
and rumble you, and oftimes approach to you with a morning salutation,
that will comfort the very cockles of your heart. He will (if all
falls out well) be your comforter, your company-keeper, your
care-taker, your Gentleman-Usher; nay all what your heart wish for, or
the Heavens grant unto you. He'l be your Doctor to cure your
palefac'dness, your pains in the reins of your back, and at your
heart, and all other distempers whatsoever. He will also wipe of all
your tears with kisses; and you shall not dream of that thing in the
night, but he'l let it be made for you by day. And may not then your
Bride-maids ask, why should not you be merry?
But alas you harmless Dove, that think you are going into Paradice;
pray tell me, when you were going to sign the Contract of marriage,
what was the reason that you alter'd so mightily, & that your hand
shook so? Verily, though I am no Astronomer, or caster of Figures; yet
nevertheless me-thought it was none of the best signs; and that one
might already begin to make a strange Prognostication from it; the
events whereof would be more certain then any thing that _Lilly_ or
any other Almanack maker ever writ. But we'l let that alone, for in a
short time it will discover it self.
Therefore, Mistress Bride, make you merry, and since you have gotten
your desire to be the Bride before any of your Bridemaids; it would be
unreasonable that you should be troubled now with any other business.
And indeed here's work enough for the ordering of things that you must
trouble your head with; for the Brides Apparel must be made, and the
Stufs, laces, lining, cuffs, and many other things are yet to be
bought. Well, who can see an end of all your business! There's one
piece of stuf is too light, and another too dark; the third looks dull
and hath no gloss. And see here's three or four daies gon, and little
or nothing bought yet.
And the worst of all is, that whil'st you are thus busie in
contriving, ordering and looking upon things, you are every moment
hindered, & taken off from it, with a continual knocking at the dore
to sollicite one to deliver all sorts of Comfits, another to deliver
the ornaments for the Brides Garland, Flowers, &c, a third to be Cook,
& Pastryman, & so many more, which come one after another thundering
so at the door, that it is one bodies work to let them in, and carry
their message to the Bride.
Oh, call the Bride, time will deceive us! The Semstress, Gorget-maker,
and Starcher, must be sent for, and the linnen must be bought &
ordered for the Bridegrooms shirts, the Brides smocks, Cuffs, Bands;
and handkerchifs; & do but see, the day is at an end again: my brains
are almost addle, and nothing goes forward: For M^{rs}. Smug said she
would bring linnen, and M^{rs}. Smooth laces, but neither of them both
are yet come. Run now men and maids as if the Devil were in you; and
comfort your selves, that the Bride will reward you liberally for your
pains.
Well, M^{rs}. Bride, how's your head so out of order! might not you
now do (as once a Schoolmaster did) hang out the sign of a troubled
pate with a Crown upon it? How glad you'l be when this confusion is
once over? could you ever have thought that there was so much work to
be found in it? But comfort your self therewith, that for these few
troublesom daies, you'l have many pleasant nights. And it is not your
case alone, to be in all this trouble, for the Bridegroom is running
up and down like a dog, in taking care that the Banns of Matrimony may
be proclaim'd. And now he's a running to and again through the City,
to see if he can get Bridemen to his mind, that are capacitated to
entertain the Bridemaids and Gentlewomen with pretty discourses,
waiting upon them, & to make mirth & pleasure for them and the rest of
the Company. Besides that he's taking care for the getting of some
good _Canary_, _Rhenish_ & _French_ Wines, that those friends which
come to wish the Bride and Bridegroom much joy, may be presented with
a delicate glass of Wine. And principally, that those who are busie
about the Brides adornments, may tast the Brides tears.
But really friends, if you come to tast the Brides tears now, 'tis a
great while too soon: But if you'l have of the right and unfeigned
ones, you must come some months hence.
O Bridegroom, who can but pitty you, that you must thus toil, moil,
and run up and down, and the Jeweller and you have just now mist one
another; he is doubtless chatting with the Bride, and shewing of her
some costly Jewels, which perhaps dislike her ne'r a whit the worse;
and what she has then a mind to, you'l find work enough to disswade
her from, let them cost what they will; for she'l let you take care
for that. And it is time enough to be considered on, when the weddings
over. For now you have as much work as you can turn your self to, in
getting all your things in a readiness from the Tailor, Semstress, and
Haberdasher. And herewith, alas, you'l find that oftentimes two or
three weeks are consumed in this sort of business, with the greatest
slavery imaginable.
Yet, M^{r}. Bridegroom, for all these troubles, you may expect this
reward, to have the pleasure of the best place in the Chancel, with a
golden Tapistry laid before you, and for your honour the Organs
playing. The going with a Coach to marry at a Country Town, has not
half so much grace, and will not at all please the Bride: it is
therefore requisite to consult with the friends on both sides, who
shall be invited to the wedding, and who not. For it seldom happens,
but there is one broil or another about it; and that's no sooner don,
but there arises a new quarrel, to consider, how richly or frugally
the Guests shall be treated; for they would come off with credit and
little charge. To this is required the advice of a steward, because it
is their daily work. And he for favour of the Cook, Pasterer, and
Poulterer (reaping oftentimes his own benefit by it) orders all things
so liberally as he can make the people beleeve that is requisite. And
the Bride thinks, the nobler it is, the better I like it, for I am but
once the Bride. But this matter being dispatcht, there's another
consideration to be taken in hand, to know how the Bride & Bridegrooms
friends shall be plac'd at the Table, the ordering whereof, many times
causes such great disputes, that if they had known it before, they
would rather have kept no Wedding. In somuch that the Bridegroom and
the Bride, with sighing, say to one another, alas, what a thick shell
this marriage nut hath, before one can come to the kernel of it. But
Bridegroom to drive these damps out of your brain, there's no better
remedy then to go along with your Bridemen to tast the Wedding wine;
for there must be sure care taken that it may be of a delicate tast
and relish; Because that which was laid in before, was not so
delicious as is required for such a noble Wedding, where there will be
so many curious tasters. Ha! riva! Look to't Bride and Bridemaids, you
may now expect a jolly Bridegroom and Bridemen, for the Wine-Merchant
is such a noble blade, that none of them all shall escape him, before
they have drunk as many Glasses, as there are hoops upon the Wine-cask
that they tasted of.
Adieu all care! the Wedding is at hand, who thinks now of any thing
but superfluity of mirth? Away with all these whining, pining Carpers,
who are constantly talking & prating that the married estate brings
nothing but care and sorrow with it; here, to the contrary, they may
see how all minds & intentions are knit together, to consume and pass
away these daies with the most superabounding pleasures. Away with
sorrow. 'Tis not invited to be among the Wedding guests. Noct there is
nothing else to be thought on, but to help these Lovers that they may
enjoy the kernel of the first pleasure of their marriage.
But really, there's poor Mally the maid, is almost dead with longing,
and thinks her very heart in pieces, scarcely knowing when the first
Wedding-night will be ended, that she might carry up some water to the
young couple, and have a feeling of those liberal gifts that she shall
receive from the Bridegroom and the Bride, for all her attendance,
running and turmoiling. And her thoughts are, that no body has
deserved it better, for by night and by day she waited upon them, and
was very diligent and faithfull in conveyance of their Love-Letters;
but all upon fair promises, having carried her self in the time of
their wooing almost like a Bawd to the Bride; for which she never had
in all the time but three gratuities from the Bridegroom,
_And now the Bride is in the bed,
The former promises are dead._
Make your self merry amongst the rest of the Wedding guests, so far as
is becoming you: who knows, but that some brave Gentlemans man,
Coachman, or neighbors servant, may fall in love with you; for many
times out of one Wedding comes another, and then you might come to be
a woman of good fashion. Udsbud Mally! then you would know, as well as
your Mistress, what delights are to be had in the first Wedding night.
Then you would also know how to discourse of the first Pleasure of
marriage, and with the Bride expect the second.
* * * * *
THE SECOND PLEASURE.
_The Woman goes to buy houshold-stuf. The unthankfulness of some of
the Wedding-guests, and thankfulness of others._<
Well, young married people, how glad you must needs be, now the
Wedding's over, and all that noise is at an end? You may now ly and
sleep till the day be far spent! And not only rest your selves
quietly; but, to your desires, in the Art of Love, shew one another
the exercise and handling of Venus Weapons.
Now you may practise an hundred delicious things to please your
appetites, & do as many Hocus Pocus tricks more. Now you may outdo
_Aretin_, and all her light Companions, in all their several postures.
Now you may rejoice in the sweet remembrance, how sumptuous that you
were, in Apparel, meat and drink, and all other ornaments that my Lady
_Bride_, and Madam _Spend-all_, first invented and brought in
practice. Now you may tickle your fancies with the pleasures that were
used there, by dansing, maskerading, Fire-works, playing upon
Instruments, singing, leaping, and all other sort of gambals, that
youth being back'd with Bacchus strength uses either for mirth or
wantonness.
[Illustration: Folio 30. _Published by The Navarre Society, London._]
O how merry they were all of 'em! And how deliciously were all the
dishes dress'd and garnisht! What a credit this will be for the Cook
and Steward! Indeed there was nothing upon the Table but it was Noble,
and the Wine was commended by every one. They have all eaten
gallantly, & drunk deliciously. Well, this is now a pleasant
remembrance.
And you, O young Woman, you are now both Wife and Mistris your self;
you are now wrested out of the command of your grinning and snarling
narrow-soul'd Tutors (those hellish Curmugions) now you may freely,
without controul, do all what you have a mind to; and receive
therewith the friendly imbracings, and kind salutes of your best
beloved. Verily this must needs be a surpassing mirth.
And you, O new made husband, how tumble you now in wantonness! how
willingly doth liberal Venus her self, open her fairest Orchard for
you! Oh you have a pleasure, that those which never tried, can in the
least comprehend.
Well, make good use of your time, and take the full scope of your
desires, in the pleasant clasping and caressing of those tender limbs;
for after some few daies, it may be hungry care will come and open
the Curtains of your bed; and at a distance shew you what reckonings
you are to expect from the Jeweller, Gold-smith, Silk-man,
Linnen-Draper, Vinter, Cook and others.
But on the t'other side again, you shall have the pleasure to hear
your young Wife every moment sweetly discoursing that she must go with
her Sister and her Aunt to buy houshold-stuf, Down-beds, dainty Plush
and quilted Coverlets, with costly Hangings must be bought: And then
she will read to you, her new made Husband, such a stately Register,
that both your joy of heart, and jingling purse shall have a
fellouw-feeling of it.
For your Sweetest speaks of large Venetian Looking-glasses,
Chiny-ware, Plush Chairs, Turkish Tapistry, Golden Leather, rich
Pictures, a Service of Plate, a Sakerdan Press, an Ebbony Tabel, a
curious Cabinet and child-bed Linnen cupboard, several Webs for
Napkins and Tabel-cloaths, fine and course linnen, Flanders laces, and
a thousand other things must be bought, too long to be here related:
For other things also that concern the furnishing of the house, they
increase every day fresh in the brains of these loving and prudent
Wives.
And when the Wife walks out, she must either have the Maid, or at
least the Semstress, along with her; then neighbour John, that good
carefull labourer, must follow them softly with his wheel-barrow,
that the things, which are bought, may be carefully and immediately
brought home.
And at all this, good Man, you must make no wry faces, but be pleasant
and merry; for they are needfull in house-keeping, you cannot be
without them; and that mony must alwaies be certainly ready, get it
where you will. Then, saies the Wife, all this, at least, there must
needs be, if we will have any people of fashion come into our house.
You know your Beloved hath also some Egs to fry, and did bring you a
good Portion, though it consist in immovable Goods, as in Houses,
Orchards, and Lands that be oftentimes in another Shire. Thither you
may go then, with your Hony, twice a year, for the refreshing of your
spirits, and taking your pleasure to receive the House-rents, fruits
of the Orchards, and revenues of the Lands. Here every one salutes you
with the name of Landlord; and, according to their Country fashion,
indeavour to receive you with all civilities and kind entertainment.
If, with their Hay-cart, you have a mind to go and look upon the Land,
and to be a participator of those sort of pleasures; or to eat some
new Curds, Cream, Gammon of Bacon, and ripe Fruits, all these things;
in place of mony, shall be willingly and neatly disht up to you.
For here you'l meet with complaints, that by the War the Houses are
burnt, the Orchards destroied, and the growth of the Fields spoiled!
therefore it is not fit that you should trouble the poor people, but
think, this is the use, custom, and fruits of War. If the Impositions
and Taxes run high, the Country Farmer can't help that; you know that
the War costs mony, and it must be given, or else we should lose all.
At such a time as this, your only mirth must be; that, through this
gallant marriage, you are now Lord of so many acres of Land, so many
Orchards, and of so many dainty Houses and Land. If your mony bags
don't much increase by it at present, but rather lessen, that most no
waies cloud your mirth. Would you trouble your self at such trivial
things, you'd have work enough daily. We cannot have all things so to
our minds in this World. For if you had your Wives Portion down in
ready mony, you'd have been at a stand again, where, without danger,
you should have put it out at interest; fearing that they might play
Bankrupt with it. Houses and Lands are alwaies fast, and they will pay
well, when the War is done.
Therefore you must drive these vapors out of your head, and make your
self merry, with the hearing that your friends commend the
entertainment they have had to the highest; and that two or three
daies hence; the merry Bridemen and Bridemaids, with some of the
nearest acquaintance, will come _a la grandissimo_ to give you thanks
for all the respect & civilities that you have so liberally bestowed
upon them; which will be done then with such a friendly and
affectionate heart, that it will be impossible for you, but you must
invite them again to come and sup with you in the evening, and so make
an addition to the former Pleasure; by which means pleasantness,
mirth, and friendship, is planted and advanced among all the friends
and acquaintance.
'Tis true, you'l be sure to hear that there were some at the Wedding
who were displeased, for not being entertained according to their
expectations; and because their Uncle, a new married Niece, and some
other friends were not seated in their right places; that M^{rs}.
_Leonora_ had a jole-pate to wait upon her; and M^{r}. _Philip_ an old
_Beldam_; M^{r}. _Timothy_ was forced to wait upon a young
snotty-nose; and that Squire _Neefer_ could not sit easily, and
M^{rs}. _Betty's_ Gorget was rumbled; and that _Mal_, and _Peg
Stones_, and _Dol Dirty-buttocks_, were almost throng'd in pieces; and
could hardly get any of the Sweetmeats; but you must not at all be
troubled with this, for 'tis a hard matter to please every body. 'Tis
enough that you have been at such a vast charge, and presented them
with your Feast.
Truly, they ought to have been contented & thankfull to the highest
degree; and what they are unsatisfied with needed not to have cost you
so much mony; for if you had left them all at home, you could have
had no worse reward, but a great deal less charge. Comfort your self
with this, that when it happens again, you will not buy ingratitude at
so high a rate. 'Tis much better to invite them at two or three
several times before hand, and entertain them with a merry glass of
Wine, up and away; and then invite a small company which are better to
govern and satisfied.
'Tis a great deal more pleasure for you, to see your Wives friends
animate one another, to come, a fortnight after the Wedding, and
surprize you; with shewing their thankfulness and satisfaction for the
respect they have received from you; and that they are alwaies
desirous to cultivate the friendship, by now and then coming to give
you a visit.
This is here again a new joy! and as long as you keep open Table and
Cellar for them, that reception will keep all discontent from growing
among them. Yes, and it will please your Wife too, extraordinary well.
And by thus doing, you will not be subject to (as many other men are)
your Wives maundring that you entertained her friends so hungrily and
unhandsomly; but, for this, you shall be both by her, and her friends,
beloved and commended in the highest degree: Yea it will be an
incouragement that they in the same manner, will entertain your
friends like an Angel, and be alwaies seeking to keep a fair
correspondence among them. So that in the Summer time, for an
afternoons collation you'l see a Fruit-dish of Grapes, Nuts, and
Peaches prepared for you; which cold Fruits must then be warm'd with a
good glass of Wine. And in the Winter, to please your appetite, a dish
of Pancakes, Fritters, or a barrel of Oisters; but none of these
neither will be agreeable without a delicate glass of Wine. Oh
quintessence of all mirth! Who could not but wish to get such Aunts,
such Cousins, & such Bridemen and Bridemaids in their marriage?
Therefore, if you meet with one or t'other of your Cousins, press him
to go home with you, to refresh himself with a glass of Wine; O it
will be extreamly pleasing to your Wife, and a double respect paid to
him; because you bring him to a collation among other Cousins, and
pretty Gentlewomen, where the knot of friendship and familiarity is
renewed and faster twisted. And who knows, if you bring in a
Batchelor, but there may perhaps arise a new marriage, which would be
extraordinarily pleasing to your Wife; for there is nothing more
agreeable to the female sex, then that they may be instrumental in
helping their Bridemaids to husbands. And thus you will see a double
increase of your Minions, and your Wife get more friends to accompany
her, and drive fancies out of her head.
If your Wife should fail in her choice of houshold-stuff, and other
sort of those appurtenances; doubt not but these will be prudent
School-Mistresses for her, if she be unexperienc'd, to counsel and
advise her to buy of the richest and newest mode, and what will be
neatest, and where to be bought. Oh these are so skilfull in the art
of ordring things, that you need not dispute with your Wife about the
hanging of a Picture above the Chimney-mantel! for they'l presently
say, there's nothing better in that place then large China dishes; and
that Bed-stead must be taken down, and another set up in the place
with curious Curtains and Vallians, and Daslles: And thus, they will
deliver themselves, like a Court full of wise Counsellors, for the
pleasure and instruction of your Beloved. Well, what could you wish
for more? D'ye talk of mony? Pish, that's stamp'd with hammers: give
it liberally; the good Woman knows how and where to lay it out. If
there be but little mony by the hand; be silent of that, it might
happen to disturb your Dear, and who knows wherein it may do her harm.
It is not the fashion that Women, especially young married ones,
should take care for that. 'Tis care enough for her, if she contrive
and consider what must be bought, and what things will be most
suitable together. For this care is so great, that she never wakens in
the night, but she thinks on't; yea it costs her many an hours rest;
therefore ought not to be so lightly esteemed.
And now, O young husband, since you are come to the first step of the
School to exercise your patience; it is not fit that you should
already begin to grumble and talk how needfull it is to be sparing and
thrifty; that Merchandising and trading is mighty dead; that monies is
not to be got in; and that here and there reckonings and bills must be
paid: O no! you must be silent, tho you should burst with discontent.
For herewith, perhaps, the whole house would be out of order; and you
might get for an answer, How! have I married then a pittifull poor
Bridegroom? This would be sad to hear.
Go therefore to School by _Pythagoras_ to learn silence; and to look
upon all things in the beginning with patience; to let your Wife do
her own pleasure; and to mix hony with your words. Then you shall
possess the quintessence of this Pleasure fully, and with joyfull
steps enter upon the folowing.
* * * * *
THE THIRD PLEASURE.
_The young couple walk daily abroad, being entertained and treated by
all their friends and acquaintance; and then travell into the Country
for their pleasure._
If it be true that there is a Mountain of Mirth and pleasure for young
married people to ascend unto, these are certainly the finest and
smoothest conductors to it; that, because it was impossible to invite
every one to the Wedding, this sweet _Venus_ must be led abroad, and
shewed to all her husbands friends & acquaintance: yea, all the World
must see what a pretty couple they are, and how handsomly they agree
together. To which end they trick and prick themselves daily up in
their best apparel; garnishing both the whole city and streets with
tatling and pratling; & staring into the houses of all their
acquaintance to see whether they are looked at.
[Illustration: Folio 52. _Published by The Navarre Society, London._]
Do but see what a mighty and surpassing mirth! for they hardly can go
ten or twelve furlongs but they constantly meet and are saluted by
some of their acquaintance, wishing them all health, happiness and
prosperity; or by others invited to come in, and are treated according
as occasion presents, wishing them also much joy in their married
estate; Yea the great Bowl is rins'd, and about goes a brimmer to the
good prosperity of the young couple. Well, thinks the young woman,
what a vast difference there is between being a married woman & a
maid! How every one receives & treats you! What respect and honour
every one shews you! How you go daily in all your gallantry taking
pleasure! And how every where you are fawn'd upon, imbrac'd and kist,
receiving all manner of friendship! It is no wonder that all womankind
are so desirous of marriage, and no sooner lose their first husbands,
but they think immediately how to get a second? Oh, saith she, what a
fulness of joy there is in the married estate, by Virginity! I resolve
therefore to think also upon my Bridemaids, and to recommend them
where ever there is occasion.
And this is the least yet, do but see! what for greater pleasure! for
every foot you are invited out here & there to a new treat, that is
oft-times as noble and as gallant as the Wedding was, and are plac'd
alwaies at the upper end of the Table. If next day you be but a little
drousie, or that the head akes; the husband knows a present remedy to
settle the brain; and the first thing he saith, is, Come lets go to
see Master or Mistriss such a one, and walk out of Town to refresh our
selves, or else go and take the air upon the _Thames_ with a Pair of
Oars. Here is such a fresh mirth again that all _Lambeth_, the
_Bankside_, and _Southwark_ shakes with it. Oh that _Apollo_ would but
drive his horses slowly, that the day might be three hours longer; for
it is too soon to depart, and that for fear of a pocky setting of the
Watch. So that its every day Fair-time. Well, who is so blind that he
cannot see the abundant pleasures of marriage?
To this again, no sooner has the young couple been some few daies at
rest, and begin to see that the invitements decline; but the young
woman talks of going out of Town together, and to take their pleasures
in other Towns and Cities, first in the next adjacent places, and then
to others that ly remoter; for, because she never was there, and
having heard them commended to be such curious and neat places, she
hath a great mind to see _Oxford_ and _Cambridge._
Yea, and then she saith, my dear, we must go also to see _York_,
_Glocester_ and _Bristol_, and take our pleasures those waies; for I
have heard my Fathers Book keeper often say, that it is very pleasant
travelling thither, and all things very cheap. And when he began to
relate any thing of Kent, and its multiplicity of fruit, my very heart
leapt up for joy; thinking to my self, as soon as I am married, I
will immediately be pressing my husband that we may go thither;
because it seem'd to me almost incredible. And then again he would
sometimes relate of _Herefordshire_ what delicious Syder and Perry is
made there, which I am a great lover of; truly Hony, we must needs go
that way once, that I may say I have satiated my self with it, at the
Fountain-head. Ah, my dearest, let us go thither next week.
It is most certain that the Good-man hath no mind at all to be thus
much longer out of his house, & from his vocation; by reason he is
already so much behind hand with his loss of time in Wooing, Wedding,
Feasting and taking pleasure; but alas, let him say what he will, he
cannot disswade her from it.
_You may as soon retort the wind,
As make a woman change her mind._
In the night she dreams on't, and by day she talks on't, and alwaies
concludes this to be her certain rule. "The first year won't come
again. If we don't take some pleasure now, when shall we do it! Oh, my
Dear, a year hence we may have a child, then its impossible for me to
go any where, but I shall be tied like a Dog to a chain: And truly,
why should not we do it as well as they & they did; for they were out
a month or two, and took their pleasures to the purpose? my Mother,
or my Cousin will look to our house; come let us go also out of Town!
For the first year will not come again."
Well, what shall the good man do? if he will have quietness with his
wife, he must let her have her will, or else she will be daily
tormenting of him. And to give her harsh language, he can't do that,
for he loves her too well. His father also taught him this saying, for
a marriage lesson, _Have a care of making the first difference._ If he
speak unkindly to her, his Love might be angry, and then that would
occasion the first difference, which he by no means willingly would be
guilty of; for then these Pleasures would not have their full swing.
Well, away they go now out of Town: But, uds lid, what a weighty trunk
they send the Porter with to the Carriers! For they take all their
best apparel with them, that their friends in the Country, may see all
their bravery. And besides all this, there must be a riding Gown, and
some other new accoutrements made for the journy, or else it would
have no grace.
Now then, away they go, every one wishing them all health and
prosperity upon their journy, & so do I.
But see! they are hardly ridden ten mile out of Town, before the young
woman begins to be so ill with the horses jolting, that she thinks the
World turns topsie-turvy with her. Oh she's so ill, that she fears she
shall vomit her very heart up. Then down lights her husband, to take
her off, and hold her head, and is in such a peck of troubles, that he
knows not which way to turn or wind himself. Wishing that he might
give all that he's worth in the World to be at a good Inn. And she
poor creature falling into a swoon, makes him look as if he had bepist
himself, & though he sighs and laments excessively she hears him not;
which occasions him such an extremity of grief that he's ready to tear
the hair off of his head. But the quamishness of her stomack beginning
to decline, she recovers; and rising, they walk for a little space
softly forwards; the good man thinking with himself how he shall do to
get his dearly beloved to an Inn, that she may there rest her
distempered body. And then getting her up again, they ride very softly
forwards, to get to the end of their journy.
Truly, I must confess, that amongst the rest of the Pleasures of
marriage, this is but a very sorry one. But stay a little, yonder me
thinks I see the Steeple, we shall be there presently; the little
trouble and grief you have had, will make the salutations you receive,
and the scituation of the place seem so much the pleasanter. And these
dainty green Meadows will be a delicate refreshment. You'l find your
stomack not only sharpned, but also curiously cleansed of all sorts of
filthy and slimy humours. And you light not sooner from your horse
then your appetite is ready to entertain what ever comes before you:
The good Man in the mean while is contriving at whose house he shall
first whet his knife, and where he thinks his poor wearied wife will
receive the best entertainment and caresses, to drive out of her
imaginations the troubles and wearisomness of her journy; which will
the easier be dispensed with, when she walks out to see the rarities
of the place, and to visit your Cousins and relations. And so much the
more, because every one will be wishing the new married couple much
joy, receiving them kindly, and doing them all manner of pleasures and
civilities: which I assure you is no small matter of mirth.
But every thing must have an end. It is therefore now very meet to
speak of removing to some other City. But let the husband say what he
will of travelling by horseback, she is struck on that ear with an
incurable deafness.
They must have a Coach to themselves, and the great Trunk must go
along with them, or else the whole journy would have no grace. Neither
would it be respect enough for them in the presence of so many good
friends and acquaintance, unless the Coach come to take them up at the
dore. And it must be done to. Here now one is returning thanks for
th'entertainment, and the other for their kind visit, and withall wish
the young couple that all content, pleasure, and delight may further
attend them upon their journy, &c. Then it is Drive on Coachman, and
away fly the poor jades through the streets, striking fire out of the
liveless stones, as if Pluto just at the same time were upon the
flight with his Proserpina through the City.
But, O new married couple, what price do you little think this mirth
will stand you at? What man is there in the World, that hath ever an
eye in his head, but must needs see, that if he tarry out long, this
must be the ready way to Brokers-Hall. Yet nevertheless I confess you
must do it, if you intend to have any peace or quietness with your new
wife.
These are the first fruits and pleasures of marriage, therefore you
must not so much as consider, nay hardly think, of being so long from
home, though in the mean while all things there is going also the
ready way to destruction; for it is the fashion, at such times, that
maid, man, and all that are in your service, to act their own parts;
and so merry they are that they possess their own freedom, and keep
open Table, that the whole neighbourhood hears their laughter. Ask the
neighbours when you come home, and you will quickly hear, that by them
was no thought of care or sorrow; but that they have plaied, ranted
and domineer'd so that the whole neighbourhood rung with it; and how
they have played their parts either with some dried Baker, pricklouse
Tailor, or smoaky Smith, they themselves know best.
Down goes the spit to the fire; the pudding pan prepared; and if there
be either Wine, Beer or any thing else wanting; though the Cellar be
lockt; yet, by one means or another, they find out such pretty devices
to juggle the Wine out of the Cask, nay and Sugar to boot too; that
their inventions surpass all the stratagems that are quoted by the
Author of the English Rogue; of which I could insert a vast number,
but fear that it would occasion an ill example to the unlearned in
that study. Howsoever they that have kept house long, and had both men
& maid-servants, have undoubtedly found both the truth and experience
hereof sufficiently. And how many maids, in this manner, have been
eased of that heavy burthen of their maidenheads, is well known to the
whole World.
These are also some of the first fruits and delights of marriage; but
if they were of the greatest sort, they might be esteemed and approved
of to be curable, or a remedy found for prevention. Yet let them be of
what state and condition they will, every one feels the damage and
inconvenience thereof, ten times more then it is outwardly visible
unto him, or can comprehend. For if you saw it you would by one or
other means shun or prevent it. But now, let it be who it will,
whether Counsellor, Doctor, Merchant, or Shopkeeper; the one neglects
his Clients Suit, the other his Patients, the third his Negotiation &
Trade, and the fourth his Customers; none of them all oft-times
knowing from whence it arises that their first years gain is so
inconsiderable. For above the continual running on of house-rent, the
neglect and unnecessary expensive charge of servants; you consume your
self also much mony in travelling and pleasure; besides the peril and
uneasiness that you suffer to please and complaite your new married
Mistris. O miserable pleasure!
But you will be sure to find the greatest calamity of this delight, as
soon as you return home again; if you only observe the motions of your
wife, for whose pleasure and felicity you have been so long from home.
Alas she is so wearied and tired with tumbling and travelling up &
down, that she complains as if her back were broke, and it is
impossible for her to rise before it is about dinner time; nay and
then neither hardly unless she hear that there is something prepared
suitable to her appetite. If any thing either at noon or night is to
be prepared and made ready, the husband must take care and give order
for the doing of it; the good woman being yet so weary, that she
cannot settle her self to it; yea it is too much for her to walk about
her chamber, her very joints being as it were dislocated with the
troublesomness of the journy.
In the mean while the servants they ly simpring, giggling, and
laughing at one another, doing just what they list, and wishing that
their Mistris might be alwaies in that temper, then they were sure to
have the more freedom to themselves: the which, though done by
stealth, they make as bad as may be: and yet hardly any man, tho he
had the eyes of _Argolus_ can attrap them; for if by chance you should
perceive any thing, they will find one excuse or another to delude
you, and look as demure as a dog in a halter, whereby the good man is
easily pacified and satisfied for that time.
And these things are more predominant, when there is a cunning slut of
a Maid, that knows but how to serve and flatter her Mistris well,
getting her by that means upon her side: in such cases you'l generally
see two maids where one might serve, or else a Chair-woman; the one to
do all the course work, the other to run of errands and lend a helping
hand (if she hath a mind to it) that all things may the sooner be set
in order; & she then with her Mistris may go a gadding.
And because Peggy & her Mistris, do in this manner, as it were, like a
Jack in a box, jump into each others humour, the good woman may take
her rest the better; for she hath caretakers enough about the house.
And if the husband, coming from the Change or other important affair,
seems to be any waies discontented, that all things lies stragling
about the house, & are not set in order, presently crafty Peggy finds
a fit expedient for it with complaining that her Mistris hath had
such an insufferable pain in her head and in her belly, that it was
beyond imagination; & also she could get no ease for her, unless she
had prepared her some butter'd Ale, and a little mul'd Sack; and this
is the reason why all things were not so ready as they ought to have
been.
Herewith the good mans mouth is stopt. If he begins afterwards to
speak with his wife concerning th'unnecessary Chair-women; his answer
is, prithee Sweetheart, don't you trouble your self with those things,
leave that to me, I'l manage that to the best advantage; men have no
understanding about house-keeping; & it is most proper for a woman to
have the governance of her Maids. And also Sweetheart, if there be now
and then occasion for a semstress or a Chair-woman, they are things of
so small importance, that they are not worth the speaking of.
Now, if he will have peace and quietness at home, this reply must give
him full satisfaction; and tho he be never so patient, viewing all
things at a distance; yet the maids behind his back, that their
Mistris may more then overhear it, dare call him, a Tom _Peep in the
pot_, or _Goodman busiebody_. And before dinner is fully done, he must
hear _Peg_ asking her Mistris; Mistris, wont you please forsooth, to
go by and by and give Mistris _Moody_ a visit, or discourse a little
with Madam Elenor? As long as you have nothing to do, what need you
ty your self to any thing? Pray tell her that story that the North
Country Gentleman related, which you laught at yesterday so heartily.
Madam _Elenor_ will admire at it. And I'm sure she hath something that
she will relate unto you. Herewith the good Mistris begins to get a
drift, and away she goes with _Peg_ out of dores. Let it go then as it
will with the house keeping.
This is also no small pleasure, when the Mistris and the Maid alwaies
agree so lovingly together! then the husband need not go any more out
of Town to please his wives fancy; for she can now find pleasure
enough by her old acquaintance sweet Mistris _Moody_, and courteous
Madam _Elenor_.
Do but see now, O Lovers, what multiplicity of roses, and thistles
there are in the very Porch of the Wilderness of Marriage; you may
think then what the middle and end must be.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Folio 54. _Published by the Navarre Society, London._]
THE FOURTH PLEASURE.
_The Wife goes a pratling by her Neighbours; complaining of her
barrenness, and takes Physick for it._
Verily it is a great pleasure for the new married couple, that they
have been up and down taking their pleasure, and have been feasted by
all their acquaintance.
Now they have travelled from place to place, and taken a full view of
what friends and relations each other hath; and seen also the great
difference there is in the ornaments, neatness, manners and
deportments of each place, and also how pleasant the _Hills_, _Dales_
and _Meadows_ lie, with their silver streaming Brooks; but most
particularly, how neatly and compleatly one may, for their mony, be
treated. Yet come finally to a consideration within themselves of the
weakness and vanity of this pleasure; perceiving that all those who
possess it, at last conclude it burthensom, and have a longing desire
to be at home again in a frugal management of house-keeping at their
own Tables.
Verily, this is that happy hour of pleasure that the new married man
hath been long seeking for; to the end he might once be freed from all
such idle expences, and be again carefully looking after his affairs
and vocation. Now he begins to hope that all things will come into a
handsom posture; also not doubting, but that his wife will, having had
her full swing and hearts content of treats and all other sorts of
pleasures, begin like a House-Wife, to order her self to take some
care for the concerns of the Family, which indeed oft-times falls out
so, to the great joy, profit, and tranquility of the good man.
But can it be possible that this sweet pleasure should be so disht up,
without some bitter sauce of discontent? O kind Husband, if you will
beleeve that, then you may well think the whole state and term of your
marriage to be a Paradice upon earth; and that you have already got
footing in the high-way to all fullness of pleasures and contentments:
Yet tarry a few daies, and then experience will give you a better
understanding of further pleasures.
For the new Wife is no sooner come to be at quiet; but she begins to
complain, that she can hardly addict her self to this new way of life;
that it appears very strange and odly to her to converse with a new
Maid, by reason she must be telling her this thing, and commanding
her the t'other; and have a regard of all what she does, which are
things that she before never used to trouble her self with; and that
it is such a trouble to her to be out of her Parents house, in a
strange dwelling place: Nay, this oft-times surges so high, that the
good man hath his hands full of work to comfort her, and to talk these
foolish fancies out of her noddle; and verily, unless he can bridle
her frivolous humour with some pleasant discourses, and dry up her
tears with no small number of kisses; oh then he'l be sadly put to't.
And if this all falls out well, before six weeks are at an end,
there'l appear another dark cloud again, to eclipse this splendant
Sunshine.
For behold, within a very small time the good woman begins to scrape
acquaintance, and get some familiarity with her neighbours, which
increaseth from day to day more and more; nay oftentimes it comes to
that height, she's better to be found among her neighbours, then at
home in her own family. Here she sees Mistris Wanton playing with her
child that is a very pretty Babe. There she sees Mistres _Breedwell_
making ready her Child-bed linnens and getting of her Clouts together.
Yonder Mistris _Maudlen_ complains that she doth not prove with child;
& then Mistres _Young-at-it_ brags how nearly she could reckon from
the very bed-side. Oh then she thinks I have been married this three
months, and know nothing at all of these things; it is with me still
as if I were yet a maid: What certainly should be the reason thereof?
This is the first occasion that begets a great disturbance in the
brain-pan and imagination; and wo be to the good man, if he doth not
understand his Py-work well! Then to the end she may hear the better
how things goes; she inquires very earnestly amongst her acquaintance
what caresses they receive from their husbands; and most shamlesly
relates what hath passed between her and her husband, twixt the
curtains, or under the Rose; which she doth to that purpose, that she
may hear whether her husband understands his work well, and whether he
doth it well, and oft enough; and also whether he be fully fit for the
employ, &c. for the verification whereof the Councel of women bring so
many compleat relations, that it is a shame to think, much more to
speak of them.
Whosoever she speaks with every one pities her, and gives her their
advice: And the best sort will at the least say to her, I would
oftentimes treat my husband with such sort of spices as were good for
my self, _viz._ Oisters, Egs, Cox-combs, sweet breads, Lam-stones,
Caveer, &c. and counsell him every morning to go to the Coffe-house
and drink some Chocolate; & above all things advise him to desist from
Tabacco and drying things, or any other things that are too cooling
for the kidneys. And then I would many times my self by dallying with
him, and some other pretty Wanton postures, try to provoke him to it;
whereby he should surely know that it was neither your coolness, nor
want of desire that might be blamed in it; but rather alwaies confess,
that you had sufficiently done your indeavour.
Who will doubt but that she puts this advice, in operation? O happy
man, who art now every foot treated with some new sorts of kickshaws
at your Table; and have free leave to frequent the Coffy-house, which
other women grumble and mumble at. And besides all this, you find that
your dearest embraceth you as if you were an Angel, and shews you a
thousand other friendly entertainments that are beyond imagination to
express: it is alwaies in the evening, my Dear come to bed: and in the
morning, pray Love ly a little longer. These are most certainly very
great pleasures.
But if the Woman marks that this helps not, and that all things remain
in the old posture, then she begins to mump and maunder at her
husband; vaunting much of her own fitness, and not a little suspecting
her husbands; oftentimes calling him a Fumbler, a dry-boots, and a
good man Do-little, &c.
This makes him look as if he had beshit him self. And though he never
so much indeavours to vindicate himself; and also to perswade her from
the reasons and examples given by several learned Doctors; Culpepper;
the Queens Midwife; and some others of his friends and acquaintance
that he demonstrates unto her; it is all but wind. She still
complains, I must have a Child, or else I shall run distracted.
And this manner of frantickness hath so vehemently struck into her
brains, that the very house seems to burn over her head: Insomuch that
she's no sooner risen from her bed or from the Table, but immediately
she goeth a gadding amongst the neighbours; and takes other peoples
children in her arms, kissing and slabbring of them so unmeasurably,
as if she would almost devour them with love; nay she useth more
simple and childish actions with them, then ever own mothers have
done. By which means the children have many times as great an
affection for their neighbour, as they have for their own Father and
Mother.
This gadding out of dores doth undoubtedly a little trouble her
husband: But when he begins to consider, that his wife by this means
knows how to handle, and make much of children; and then again, that
she thus beforehand learns it for nothing; it must of necessity be no
less then a great pleasure for him. And so much the more, whilest she
is pratling with her neighbour, and playing with her child; he is
freed from the curse of hearing her sighs and complaints to have a
child. For she's no sooner within the dores, but she talks of her
neighbours child, and wishes with the loss of all that shes worth in
the World that she had such a one too; which continues alwaies so
long, that finally she bursts out into the like former frenzy against
her husband: see there I must have a child also, or else I shall run
distracted.
But what remedy? which way he turns or winds himself, he finds no
means or way how to pacifie his wife. And therefore thinks it best
himself to take th'advice of Doctor, and most especially with that
French Doctor, who is so renowned for his skill of making many men and
women that before were barren and unfruitfull to conceive children:
Insomuch that they do now every year precisely bear a young son, or a
daughter, yea somtimes two at a time. It is thereby also very
necessary that the good woman her self consult with some experienced
Midwives, and old Doctresses; to the end, that those distempers which
are the occasion of barrenness, might be the better removed and taken
away.
To this end there are almost as many Boxes and Gally-pots brought
together, as would near upon furnish an Apothecaries shop: Then to
work they go with smearing, anointing, chafing, infusing, wherewith
(as they term it) the good woman is to be made fresh and fit; but they
make the bed and whole house so full of stink and vapours, that it may
be said they rather stop the good and wholesom pores and other parts
of the body; then to open those that were stopt and caused
Distempers.
But in the conclusion we find it to be both fruitless and miserable,
where the good woman goes to seek it by th'Apothecary; even as her
husband doth out of the Oister and Eg-shels.
And if this will not do now; where shall the poor man hide his head
next? What shall he do more to please and pacifie her? He thinks upon
all the ways and means possible to entertain her to content. If she
will have costly things, he will buy them for her; and dissimulately
saith that all what she practiseth for her content, is his only
pleasure and delight: yea, although her pride and ambition many times
in several things flies too high, and oft-times also doth not happen
to be very suitable with the constitution of the cash; he dares in no
wise contradict her, for he fears that she will presently be at
variance with him again: And thinks in the interim, whilest her mind
hangs upon these things, she forgets her maunding and mumbling for a
child. Still hoping that there will come one happy night, that may
crown his earnest desires with fructivity; this it is that makes him
that he dares not anger her or give her a sour countenance; fearing
that if she might have conceived, that would be the means of turning
the tide.
To be short, it is his only and greatest delight to see that his wife
is well satisfied and receiveth her content and pleasure; which is
very hard to be practised, so long as she is not with child.
But O what a joy there will be if he may be but once so happy as to
hit that mark! How will the first day of her reckoning to ly in stand
in his Almanack, as if it were printed with a red Letter! Well young
people, be contented; Long look'd for comes at last to the
satisfaction of the Master.
* * * * *
THE FIFTH PLEASURE.
_The young Woman proves with Child, and longs._
The old Proverb tels us, that after the sour comes the sweet; and I
find, jolly couple, that it is so with you also; for I hear finally
that your wife is big with child: Well what a Pleasure is that!
Certainly, now you see that all your Doctoring and medicining hath
been to some purpose, and now you feel also that all herbs were made
for some good effects.
How happy a thing it is that you have made use of a learned Doctor,
and an experienced Midwife. Now is the only time to be very carefull,
for fear the least accident might turn the tide with the young woman,
and so she get a mischance, or some other sad mishap; and a mischance
is worse for her than a true Child-bearing; for that weakens nature
abundantly, and oftentimes brings with it several sad consequences, &
Thus the women talk.
[Illustration: Folio 85. _Published by The Navarre Society, London._]
But you, O noble Champion, who have behaved your self so gallantly;
continue now to reap the further conquests of your honour. Look not at
any small matters; and most especially if you hope or desire to gain
the principal prize of your pleasure. For be assured, that you must
suffer much, and see through a perspective glass all things at a
distance; because you never before saw your wife in so gallant a state
and condition as she now is in; and therefore you must cherish and
preserve her much more then formerly you have done. If you hear her
often grunt and groan, mumble and chide, either with the men or
maid-servants; nay, though it were with your own self, you must pass
it by, not concerning your self at it; and imagine that you do it for
the respect you bear your wife, but not by constraint; for it is
common with big-bellied women to do so.
But most especially rejoice in your self, if this grunting and
groaning happen only by day time; because then you may somtimes avoid
it, or divertise your self with other company. Yet by night generally
shall the good woman be worst of all? therefore be sure to provide
your self well with pure Aniseed, Clove, Cinamon-waters, and good
sack, that you may therewith be ready to strengthen and assist her.
For it will often happen that when you are in your best and first
Sleep, that your dearest wil waken you and complain of pain at her
heart, of dizziness and great faintness; then all what is in the house
must be stirring, and you your self also, though it be never so cold,
out of the bed you must with all the speed possible. Comfort your self
herewith, that this was one of the pleasures which you got with your
wife, though it was not set down in the Contract of marriage.
Now for this again you alwaies receive the honour, that when you are
invited with her to any place at a treat, the best that is upon the
Table shall be presented to the big-bellied woman: Yea if she long or
have a desire to any thing; immediately every one that observes it,
are ready to serve her with it; nay, though there were never so little
in the Dish, her longing must be fully satisfied, if no body else
should so much as tast of it. And by this means oftentimes the good
woman is so ill and disturbed, that she is forced to rise from the
Table, and falls from one faintness into another; which for civilities
sake, is then baptized, that she hath sat too high or been throng'd,
or that the room being so full, the breath of the people offended her.
And though she perceives that this very food makes her so ill; yet for
the most part she will be so choice and so dainty, that she seldom
knows her self what she will eat or hath a mind to; but generally it
tends to some thing or other that is delicate: Upon this manner again,
according to the former custom, she tumbles it in till she is sick
with it; and if any one looks but very wishly at her; immediately
another saies to them; she must eat for two, nay perhaps for three.
And not only that in this manner she grows so delicate and gluttonous;
but is thereby so easie and lazy, that she can hardly longer indure
her sowing cushion upon her lap. Also sitting is not good for her, for
fear the child thereby might receive some hindrance and an
heartfullness. Therefore she must often walk abroad; and to that end
an occasion is found to go every day a pratling and gossiping to this
and then to another place; in the mean while leaving her husband
without a wife, and the family without a mistris.
Then in conclusion this falls also burthensom to her, (as it is
generally with all things that are too frequently used) then she will
be for spurring you up to walk abroad with her, that she may get all
sorts of fruits and other fopperies that the season of the year
affords; and at the first baiting-place she's for some Cream with
sugar, stewd prunes, and a bottle of sider or perry; and thus abroad
to spend much, and at home neglect more.
If she have then gone somthing far, she is so excessive weary with it,
that if her life must ly at stake, she cannot set one foot further.
Herewith is the poor man absolutely put to a stand: ride she may not,
or all the fat would be in the fire; and they are so deep in the
Country that there is somtimes neither Coach nor boat to be had.
And if you should happen to be where a River is, there's never a boat
to be had; but if there should be one, then you must be subject to
humour the churlish Ferry man, who seeing the necessity of the
occasion, and that you are able to pay for it, will have what price he
pleases. And somtimes again you are timorous your self to hazard it,
because many women are very fearfull upon the water.
But indeed, if by this unhappy occasion, a good expedient may be found
to please your dearly beloved, it is no small joy. Well then make your
self jocund herewith, to the end that other troubles may not so much
molest and disturb you.
You may also be very well assured, that your wife no sooner comes to
be a little big-bellied, but she receives the priviledge to have all
what she hath a mind to & that is called Longing. And what husband can
be so stern or barbarous that he will deny his wife at such a time
what she longs for? especially if it be a true love of a woman, you
must never hinder her of her longing; for then certainly the child
would have some hindrance by it.
Forasmuch then as is necessary that you alwaies seek to avoid and
prevent this, you must observe, that all women when they are with
child, do fall commonly from one longing to another: And then the
providing and buying of that for them, must be as great a pleasure to
you as it is to them in the receiving and use of it; and that not
alone for theirs, but your childs sake also. And truly he that will or
cannot suit himself to this humour, will be very unhappy, because he
shall not then receive the full scope and freedom of this pleasure.
It is also most certain that these longing desires doth transport
their imaginations from one finical thing to another: If it be in the
summer, then they long for China Oranges, Sivil Lemmons, the largest
Asparagus, Strawberries with wine and sugar, Cherries of all sorts,
and in like manner of Plums, and these they must have their fill of:
And then when they have gotten through the continuance their full
satisfaction thereof; then be assured they begin to long for some
great Peaches and Apricocks; And though they be never so scarce and
dear, yet the woman must not lose her longing, for the child might get
a blemish by it.
If then Apples and Pears begin to grow ripe, you have the same tune to
sing again; for she is possessed with a new longing desire as bad, as
if it were a Quotidian Ague in all the joints of her body; and
whatsoever comes new to her sight, creates in her a fresh longing. If
she gets one hour curious Catherine Pears, Pippins, or Russetings, the
next she hath a mind to Filberds; and then an hour or two later Wall
nuts and Grapes fall into her thoughts; do what you will there's no
help for it, her longing must be satisfied, let it go as it will, or
cost what it will.
And this her longing leads her from one thing to another, of all what
the richness of the summer, or liberality of the harvest, out of their
superfluities pour down upon us. Insomuch that the good man wishes a
thousand times over that he might once be rid of these terrible
charges and great expence.
But alas what helps it? there's no season of the year but gives us
some or other new fruits that the women have alwaies a new longing
desire to. And if it be in the Winter, then they long for juicy
Pomgranates, new Wine upon the must, with Chesnuts; then for
Colchester Oisters; then again for Pancakes and Fritters; and indeed
for a thousand several sorts of such toys and fancies as do but appear
before their longing imaginations. And oftentimes it is no real
longing, for that were then pardonable, but a liquorish delicate
desire that they are sick of; as may be seen by those who simply
imagine themselves to be with child, are alwaies talking of this and
t'other dainty that they long after. And that which is worst of all,
is that both they and those that are really with child, long commonly
for that which is scarcest and hardest to be gotten: Yea in the very
middle of winter they oftentimes long to have a Greengoose or young
Chickens; which in some places are very hard to be got, and not
without paying excessive dear for them.
This longing being so satisfied; immediately arises another, and
nothing will serve but Meats, and several sorts of Comfits. Yea how
often happens it, though it rain, snow, and is very slippery, that
both the husband and the maid, if never so dark and late in the night,
must trot out and fetch candied Ginger, dried Pears, Gingerbread, or
some such sort of liquorish thing. And what is to be imagined, that
can be cried about in the streets by day time, but her longing before
hath an appetite prepared for it?
Yea through an excessive eating of raw fruits, and feeding upon
multiplicities of sweet-meats; to fulfill their longing; it turns to a
griping of the guts and overflowing of the Gall, which again occasion
Cholick, & manytimes other lamentable pains. Here is then another new
work. There the Doctor must be presently fetcht, and according to what
he pleases to order, either a Glister must be set, or some other
Physick taken for it.
But by reason these things are not so pleasant to the good woman as
the foregoing liquorish delicacies; she thinks it best that the
Midwife be sent for, because she hath a great deal better knowledge
touching the infirmities of women then the Doctors: Then she is
fetcht, and having done the first part of her office, she gives her
good comfort; and orders her to take only some of the best white
Wine, simper'd up with a little Orange-peel, well sweetned with sugar,
and so warm drunk up; and then anoint your self here, and you know
where, with this salve; and for medicines [that are most to be found
in Confectionres or Pasterers shops] you must be sure to make use of
those, then your pain will quickly lessen. You must not neglect also
ofttimes to eat a piece of bread and butter with either Caroway or
Aniseed Comfits; use also Cinnamon; the first expels wind, and the
second strengthens the heart; and they are both good for the woman and
the child. Be sure also to drink every morning and every evening a
glass of the best sack, for that strengthens the fruit of the womb,
and occasions you a good quickness, &c.
Who will doubt, but that she obeys the orders of the Midwife, much
better then that of the Doctors. And verily there is also a great deal
of difference in the suffering, of such or uneasie fumbling at the
back part; or the receiving of such pleasant and acceptable
ingredients. And so much the more, when she begins to remember that
Doctor Drink-fast used to tell her, that Medicins never make so good
an operation, when they are at any time taken against the appetite, or
with an antipathy, by the Patient.
Thus you may see, approaching Father, how you are now climb'd up to a
higher step of glory: Your manly deeds, make your name renowned; and
your joy is so much augmented that your wife looks alwaies merrily and
pleasantly upon you, for giving her content; and she now also salutes
you with the most sweetest and kindest names imaginable; you must also
now be her guest upon all sorts of Summer and Winter fruits, & a
thousand other kinds of liquorish and most acceptable dainties.
Insomuch that although you did not come into the streets in six
months, you may by the humour and actions of your wife know perfectly
when Strawberries, Cherries, Apples, Pears, Nuts & Grapes, are in
season. And there is no greater pleasure for your best beloved, then
that she sees you eat as heartily of them as she her self doth.
Confess then unfeignedly, from the very bottom of your heart; are not
these great Pleasures of marriage? And be joyfull; for this is only a
beginning, the best comes at last. Know likewise, that this is but as
a fore-runner of the sixth Pleasure, and will both touch you at heart,
and tickle your purse much better: Yea, insomuch that the experience
thereof will shew you that there is a whole mountain of pleasures to
be found in the bands of Wedlock. Whereby I fear, that you will,
perhaps, make a lamentable complaint, of your no sooner arriving at
this happiness.
But comfort your self herewith; that the medicaments of the Doctor and
Midwife, perhaps have done such a wished for operation, that you
thereby may obtain many Sons and Daughters, which you may then timely
admonish and instruct to that duty, so long by your self neglected,
and in a manner too late to repent of.
Doubt not, but assuredly beleeve, that now you are once gotten into
the right road, you may easily every year see a renovation of this
unspeakable pleasure; and beholding your wife oftentimes in this
state; in like manner you perceive that not only your name and fame is
spread abroad, but your generation also grow formidable. And this all
to the glory of your relations, and joy of your dearly Beloved.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Folio 102. _Published by the Navarre Society, London._]
THE SIXTH PLEASURE.
_Care is taking for the Child and Child-bed linnen; and to provide a
Midwife and Nurse._
In good truth it is very pleasant to see how the good womans Apron
from day to day, how longer the more it rises; now all the World may
plainly see you have behaved your self like a man, and every one
acknowledge that you are both good for the sport. Verily this is a
great pleasure! And it increases abundantly, when your wife comes to
be so near her reckoning, that she feels her self quick, and begins to
provide and take care for the Childs and Child-bed linnen. Then you
need not fear the turning of the tide, or that a mischance will
happen; wherewith all people, seeing no other issue, laugh and scoff
unmeasurably; and think that the Midwife hath been greased in the fist
(as it oftentimes happens) because she should say, that it was a full
created child, and no collection of ill humors, or a wind-egg.
And the greatest joy is, that you have now so hoisted your top-sail,
that your wife cannot any more call you a _Dry-boots_, or a _John
Cannot_; which were for you such disrespectfull names, and yet for
quietness sake you were forced to smother them in your breast, because
you could have no witnesse for your vindication.
You are now so far exalted, that you will very speedily be saluted
with the name of _Dad_ & _Pappa_; which is as pleasing and acceptable
for you now, as the name of _Bridegroom_ was before.
O how happy you are! & what pleasures doth the married estate provide
for you! how glad must your wife be now! how strictly she reckons the
months, nay the very weeks and days! O what an unexpressible love hath
she for you now! and with what imbraces and kisses she entertains you,
because you have furnish'd her shop so well! Now you may perceive that
the procreating of children, makes the band of wedlock much stronger,
and increaseth the affections.
Now were it well time, that by death either of the good woman or the
Child, that you did, by a will, seek the mortification of the
disadvantagious Contract of marriage; and by that means get all there
is to your self, in place of going back to her friends and relations;
But, alas, she hath so much in her head at present, that there is no
speaking to her about it, without being a great trouble to her:
besides her sences cannot now bear it therefore you must let it alone
till another time.
Do you your self but observe, & you'l quickly see that a lying-in
requireth so much trimming, that she hath really care enough upon her!
the Child-bed linnen alone, is a thing that would make ones head full
of dizziness, it consists of so many sorts of knick-knacks; I will not
so much as name all the other jinkombobs that are dependances to it.
Therefore, ought you to be so compassionate with her, as not to speak
to her about any other thing; for all her mind and sences are so
imploied upon that subject, that she can think upon nothing else but
her down-lying. Hear but deliberately to all her lying-in, and of what
belongs to it. Tis no wonder neither for there is not one of her
acquaintance comes to her, either woman or maid, but they presently
ask her, Well, Mistris, when do you reckon? And that is a Text then,
so full of matter that there is oftentimes three or four hours preacht
upon it, before any of the Auditors be weary. O that all Ministers
were so happy, as to have alwaies such earnest and serious hearers. In
the mean while there is no body happier than the maids, for they are
then free from being the Town-talk; for at other times, the first word
is, How do you like your maid? which is another Text that the women
generally preach out of, and make longest sermons in.
But methinks, I should happen to fall here from the Mistris upon the
Maid.
To go forward then. See how serious your dearest is, with _Jane_ the
Semstress, contriving how much linnen she must buy to make all her
Child-bed linnen as it ought to be! how diligently she measures the
Beds, Bellibands, Navel clouts, shirts, and all other trincom,
trancoms! and she keeps as exact an account of the ells, half ells,
quarters, and lesser measures, as if she had gone seven years to
school to learn casting of an account.
Let this measuring and reckoning be pleasant to you, because the
charge thereof will fall costly enough for you. To morrow she goes to
market, to buy two or three pieces of linnen, one whereof must be very
fine, and the other a little courser. And you need not take any notice
what quantity of fine small Laces she hath occasion for, by reason it
might perhaps overcloud this sixth pleasure of marriage, which you now
possess.
Why should you not be merry? you have now above all things a Wife to
your mind; who whatsoever she imagines, desires or doth, it is alwaies
accompanied with wishes. O, saies she, how glad shall I be; when all
things is bought that there ought to be for the making of my Child-bed
linnen. And no sooner is it bought, but then she wishes that it were
made.
But this requires some time: and then you'l have reason to rejoice;
for it is commonly the usual custom of the semstresses to let you go
and run after them, and fop you off with lies and stories, till the
time be so nigh at hand, that it will admit no longer delay.
Yet before you see that your wife hath accomplisht this desire, you'l
find her very much troubled at two several causes, which will make you
glad when she hath once obtained them. For these are things of
importance, to wit, the making choice of a Midwife and a Nurse,
because upon one depends the health and preservation of the life of
the Woman; and on the other that of the Child.
Let it no waies molest or trouble you, but rather be pleasing and
acceptable, if she be continually chattering at you, and desiring your
advice and councell, who she shall make choice of or not; hereby you
may observe, that you have a very carefull wife; and if you listen a
little more narrowly, you will hear what a special care she hath for
all things; then she will every day be relating to you that amongst
the number of Midwives which have been recommended to her, there is
not one that pleases her; for one is too young and unexperienced,
another is too old and doting; a third is too big handed; a fourth
hath too much talk; and the fifth drinks too much wine. To be short
there is so many deficiencies in every one of them, that the good
woman hath need of a learned Counsellors advice to help her to chuse
the best.
And the like trouble hath she also concerning the taking of a Nurse,
having already spent above a months time in examining among her
kindred and relations, and other good acquaintance, how such and such
nurses have behaved themselves; & she is informed that there are few
to be found but have certainly some faults or other, and somtimes very
great ones, for one is too sluttish, another saunters too much, a
third too lazy; another too dainty: and then again, one eats too much,
and another drinks too much; one keeps company too much with the maid,
and another in like manner with the good man: And such a one or such a
one are the best, but they were not very handy about the hearth, to
make ready some liquorish dainty things for the good woman, which is a
matter of no small weight.
Behold! hath she not very great cause to be troubled: and thereout you
may very well also observe how happy you are, seeing you have gotten a
wife that night and day is busie and taking care of all these concerns
and other affairs. Yes verily, although her big-belly be very
cumbersom to her, yet she must be abroad, every day from morning till
evening, to take care and provide all these important things, that
nothing may be wanting. Well what a carefull wife you have! how
mightily she is concerned for this above all other things whatsoever!
And scarcely hath the good woman gotten these two main instruments;
but she finds her self still involved in so much other business, that
she hardly can tell how to do or turn her self in it; for now there
wants a Groaning stool, a Screen, and a Cradle, with what belongs to
it; and heaven knows what more, which have been so long neglected with
the care that was taking to get a Midwife and a Nurse. Then again
there wants new Hangings, a Down-bed, a Christening-cloath, silver
candle sticks, a Caudle-cup, &c. that of necessity must be bought &
used at the lying-in, & Gossips feast; so that the good man need not
fear that his mony will grow mouldy for want of being turned too &
again.
Oh were your dear wife so happy that she had once made an end of all
these ponderous affairs, then all would be well: For then she could
begin to give order for the making clean the house from top to bottom;
and for the pressing of some curtains, Vallians and Hangings; the
rubbing of Stools, Chairs and Cupboard; the scouring of the
Warming-pan and Chamber-pot: And 'tis no wonder, for when the good
woman lies in, then come so many busie bodies that with their glouring
eyes are peeping into every hole and corner.
These things do so excessively trouble her brain; that she can hardly
the whole day think upon any thing else, yea goes so near her that it
oftentimes totally bereaves her of her nights rest insomuch that she
is fain to ly very long abed in the morning. And if by night she
happen but only to think of Boobincjo, she hath immediately such an
alteration in her very intrals, that she feels here or there some or
other deficiency; which comes so vehement upon her that the poor
husband, though it be never so cold, must out of bed to fetch some
Cinnamon and Annis-seed water, or good sack; or else some other such
sort of those liquorish ingredients and then these are the principal
keys of Musick that the whole night through are sung and plaid upon. O
how happy is the good man, that he hath, from time to time, in her
child-bearing, learned all these things with so much patience, which
makes him now that he can the better bear with all these finical
humours.
But for this again, O compassionate Ninny-hammer, you shall have not
only great commendations for your patience; but the pleasure also that
some of your nearest relations will come and kiss your hands, and
withall tell you how happy you are that y'are almost arrived at that
noble degree of being intituled Father. And then, with great respect &
reverence, they desire to receive the honour, some of being your
first-born childs God-fathers, and others to be God-mothers: Neither
will they then be behind hand in presenting the Child with several
liberal gifts, as an acknowledgement of the honour they receive, above
others, in being favoured with your Gossipship.
Well who would not, for so much honour and respect, but now and then
suffer the trouble of his wives quamish stomack with some charges
to't? And more then that, you have now the best opportunity in the
World, to go with your new chosen Gossips, (as you did before with
your Bridemen) & chuse & taste out some of the most delicious Wine,
for you must be sure to store your Cellar well, because then both the
Bridemen and Bride-maids will certainly come to eat some of the
long-look'd for Caudle; besides the great number of friends that will
come then also to give you a visit, and with all respect wish you much
joy: I will not so much as think any thing of those that will come
also to the Christning and Gossips Feast.
Be joyfull with this, till such time as the t'other Pleasure begins to
appear.
* * * * *
THE SEVENTH PLEASURE.
_The Woman falls in Labour._
Behold, young couple, hitherto a considerable deal of time is spent
and passed over, with the aforesaid Mirth and Pleasures; do not you
now perceive what a vast difference is between the married or
unmarried estate? You have, by provision, made your self Master of
these six Pleasures; nay oftentimes before you have gotten the
longd-for joy of the fourth Pleasure, appears that of the seventh very
unexpectedly; for the good woman begins to look so sour, grumble,
grunt and groan, that it seems as if she would go into the Garden and
fetch a Babe out of the Parsley-bed.
But Uds-lid this is a great-surprizal; for a little while ago she said
that she was but seventh months gone of her reckoning. How then?
should she have jested upon it? or has the good woman lost her book,
and so made a false account? Yet this being the first time of her
reckoning, ought the more favourably to be passed by as long as the
Trade goes forwards.
[Illustration: Folio 116. _Published by The Navarre Society, London._]
There's now no small alarm in the Watch. Who is there that is but near
or by the hand that is not set a work! Oh, was Dorothy the Semstress,
and Jane the laundress now here, what a helping hand we might have of
them! Where are now the two Chair-women also, they were commonly every
day about the house, and now we stand in such terrible need of them,
they are not to be found? Herewith must the poor Drone, very
unexpectedly, get out of bed, almost stark naked, having hardly time
to put on his shoes and stockins; for the labour comes so pressing
upon her, that it is nothing but, hast, hast, hast, fetch the Midwife
with all possible speed, and alas, there is so many several occasions
for help, that she cannot miss her maid the twinkling of an eye;
neither dare she trust it to the Maids fetching, for fear she should
not find the Midwives house; and she hath not shewed it her, because
she made her reckoning that she had yet two months more to go.
Therefore without denial away the good man himself must to fetch the
Midwife; for who knows whether or no she would come so quick if the
maid went; nay it is a question also, being so late in the night,
whether she would come along with the maid alone, because she dwells
in a very solitary corner clearly at the t'other end of the City:
(for after a ripe deliberation of the good woman, the lot fell so that
she made choice of this grave and experienced Midwife).
Away runs the poor man without stop or stay, as if he were running for
a wager of some great concern. And though it be never so cold, the
sweat trickles down by the hair of his head, for fear he should not
find the Midwife at home; or that perhaps she might be fetcht out to
some other place, from whence she could not come. And if it should
happen so, we are all undone, for the good woman must have this
Midwife, or else she dies; neither can or dare she condescend to take
any of the other, for the reasons afore mentioned.
But what remedy? if there must come another, then she will so alter,
vex, and fret her self at it, that all the provocations of pains in
labour, turns against her stomack, and there is no hopes further for
that time.
But whilest you are running, and consider in this manner hope the
best; rather think with your self, what great joy is approaching unto
you, if your wife, thus soon, come to be safely delivered of a
hopefull Son or Daughter: In the first place, you will be freed from
all that trouble of rising in the night, and from the hearing of the
grumbling and mumbling of your wife; two months sooner then you your
self did expect you should have been.
Be not discomforted although she doth thus unexpectedly force you out
of bed, before you have hardly slept an hour, for you see there's
great occasion for't; and now is the time to show that you truly love
your wife. This first time will make it more accustomary, the first is
also commonly the worst. And if you be so fortunate that at the very
first you happen to meet with this prudent and grave Matron Midwife, &
do bring her to your longing-for dearly beloved Wife; yet nevertheless
you may assure your self, that before you can arrive to have the full
scope and heighth of this Pleasure, you'l find something more to do:
For the Midwife is not able alone to govern and take care of all
things that must be fetcht, brought and carried to and again;
therefore of necessity the friends must be fetcht with all the speed
imaginable, viz. Sisters, Wives, Aunts, Cousins, and several familiar
good acquaintances must have notice of it, and be defraied to come to
her quickly, quickly, without any delay; and if you do not invite them
very ceremonially, every one according to their degrees and qualities,
it is taken to be no small affront.
It hath hapned more then a hundred times that the Sister afterwards
would not come to the Christning Feast; because, by chance, she heard,
that the Brothers wife had notice given her of the Child-bearing
before her self; little considering how few people the young people
had in the night to assist them; or that the confusion and
unexperiencedness was the occasion that they did not think of such a
method or order. Nay oftentimes is this sort of jealousie arisen
between the Aunt and Cousin; whereby may most certainly be observed
the intelligibility of the most prudent female sex.
'Tis true this running seems both troublesom and tiresom but little
doth the good man know that he is now first come into that noble
School & herein his patience shall be effectually exercised or that
this is but the first year of trying the same! O how happy are they
that are well instructed in it.
Do but see how impatient the good expecting Father is. What is there
not yet wanting, before he hath his lesson perfect! Behold the poor
Drone, how he moves too & fro! see what a loss and tostication he is
in! he tramples his hat under his feet, pulls the hair off his head,
not knowing what he would do, or which way to help his dear Wife; and
the Friends that were sent for do not come so quick as he expected,
because the most part of them must first trick and prick themselves up
before that they dare come; the one fearing the piercing view of
another, though they be all near relations and friends.
Here he stands trembling, not knowing which way to turn himself.
Womens assistance is at this present most requisite, and a good
Stierman at Stern, or the ship may run upon a sand. She runs first
backwards then forwards; seeks here then there. And although he hath
the keys of all the Chests, and Trunks, his head runs so much a Wool
gathering, that, let him do what he will, he can find no sort of those
things he most stands in need of.
Alas all things is thus out of order, by reason the good woman did not
think to come so soon in Childbed. Oh what manner of Jinkinbobs are
not here wanting that are most useful at this occasion; and the
Midwife cries and bawls for them that she's hoarse again! here's both
the groaning-stool and the screen yet to be made: And Mistris
_Perfect_ hath them both, but they are lent out.
Yonder Peg the maid runs her anckle out of joint, and her self out of
breath, to desire to borrow them of Mistris _Buy-all_. And she's
hardly gotten out of dores, before they perceive that the warming pan
is yet to be bought; and that that's worst of all, is, that all the
Child-bed linnen is not yet starch'd or iron'd; oftentimes it happens
that it is yet upon the Bankside at bleach. What a miserable condition
is this!
Here the good man is at no small quandary, with all the women, oh were
this the greatest disappointment for him! but presently he sees all
the womens countenances looking very dole-fully and mournfully at each
other, one beginning to pray; another to cry in; there comes a great
alteration in the pangs and pains of her Labour; nay they are so
desperate, that the fear is, either the mother or the child, or
perhaps both must go to pot. For all whatsoever the Doctor hath
prescribed, or that hath been fetcht from the Apothecaries; nay the
very girdle of Saint _Francis_ can work here no miracle.
Uds bud, this is but a sad spectacle. Oh, says Peg the maid, doth this
come by marrying? I'l never venture it as long as I live. I do beleeve
that it is very pleasurable to ly with a Gentleman, but the
Child-bearing hath no delight at all in it. Oh I am affraid, if there
come not a sudden change, that my good Mistris will not be able to
undergo it. Oh sweet pretty blossom as she is.
'Tis most true, that here wants crums of comfort both for the husband
and the wife; yea for the Midwife and all the rest of the Women
beside; for they all cry that the tears run streaming down their
cheeks; and neither their Cinamon-water, nor burnt wine, can any waies
refresh or strengthen her. Uds-lid: if there come no other tiding the
sweetness of this pleasure will prove but bitter to them.
But hark a little! there comes something of a tiding, that brings us
five pounds worth of courage with it. Two or three more such, would
make every one of our hearts a hundred pound lighter, and the great
Caudle Skellet would begin to quake and tremble.
Pray have a little patience, tarry, and in the twinkling of an eye you
shall be presented with a Child, and saluted with the title of Father.
* * * * *
THE EIGHTH PLEASURE.
_The Womans brought to bed._
Ha boys! after all the toiling, the happy hour is at last arrived,
that the good Woman, finally is delivered & brought to bed: well this
is a mirth and pleasure that far surpasseth all the other; for the
good man is, by a whole estate, richer than he was before.
Who can imagine or comprehend the jollity of this new Father? O he is
so overjoyed that it is inexpressible: Doll and Peg must out
immediately to give notice of it to all the friends and acquaintance;
thinking to himself that every body else will be as jocund and merry
at it as he is. Do but see how busie he is! behold with what
earnestness he runs up and down the house to give order that the great
Caudle Skillet may be in a readiness!
[Illustration: Folio 127. _Published by the Navarre Society, London._]
What a pleasure is it for him that he sees Mistris _Do-all_ attending
the Midwife, and giving her all manner of warmed beds and other
Clouts, the number and names whereof are without end; and that Mistris
_Swift-hand_ & Mistris _Fair-arse_ are tumbling all things
topsie-turvy forsooth to seek and prepare in a readiness all those
things that are most necessary for the Child; but little doth he think
that they do it more to be peeping into every hole and corner, and to
have a full view of all the Child-bed linnen, then out of needfull
assistance? And wo be to the Child-bed woman, if they do but find any
where a Clout, Napkin or Towel, that by chance hath either a hole or a
rent in it: for one or another of them will with grinning and laughing
thrust her finger through it, and then shew it to the rest, taking
also the first opportunity she can lay hold of, when they are a little
at liberty, to make a whole tittle-tattle about it, and very much
admireth the carelessness and negligence of the Child-bed woman; as if
she were a greater wast-all, and worse house-wife than any of them
else when to the contrary, if you should by accident come into any of
their Garrets, when the linnen is just come home from washing you
would oftentimes find it in such a condition, that you might very well
imagine your self to be in Westminster Hall where the Colours that are
Trophies of honour are hung up, one full of holes, another tatter'd &
torn, and a third full of mildew.
Yet notwithstanding all this peeping and snuffling in to every nook
and corner, they finally get the Child swathled: And then to the
great joy of the Father, it must be presented him in state by the
Midwife, with this golden expression, a Proverb not above two hundred
years old, _Father, see there is your Child, God give you much joy
with it, or take it speedily into his bliss._
Uds bud how doth this tickle him! what a new mirth and pleasure is
this again! see him now stand there and look like a Monky with a Cat
in his arms. O what a delicate pretty condition he's now in!
Well Midwife look to't, for this joy hath taken such a tyrannical
possession of his heart, that doubt not but immediately there will be
a good present for you, when he gives it you back again. 'Tis no
wonder, for if it be a Son, he is at least a thousand pound richer
then he was before: though he may look long enough before he'l find a
Bankers Bond in his Chest for the sum.
Now whilest the Child is swadled and drest up, all the other trinkum
trankums are laid aside; and the Table is spread neatly to entertain
the friends, who not alone for novelties sake, but also out of a sweet
tooth'd liquorish appetite, long to see what is prepared for them. And
I beleeve that although the Kings Cook had drest it, yet there will be
one or another of them that will be discommending something, and brag
that she could have made it much delicater, if there be then any one
that seems not fully to beleeve her, immediately she cites two or
three Ladies for her witnesses, who have given her the greatest praise
and commendations for her dressing of such dishes above all others.
And who can have better judgement than they? This is then a discourse
for at least three hours, for they are all of them so well verst in
the Kitchin affairs, that its hard for one to get a turn to speak
before the other.
But this is an extraordinary Pleasure for this new Father to hear out
of all their prittle pratlings how sweetly they will commend the Quill
that hath received all the Colchester Oisters, Cox-combs, Sweetbreads,
Lam-stones, and many other such like things, for they have found by
experience that such sort of ingredients occasion very much the
kindness of men to their wives. Yes, yes, saies M^{rs}. _Luxury_ it is
very good for my husband, and not amiss for any pallate neither, and
I'm sure the better I feed my Pig, the better it is for me in the
soucing out. And this discourse then is held up with such an
earnestness, and continues so long, that the Child-bed woman almost
gets an Ague with it, or at the least falls from one swooning into
another, whilest there is not so much as any one that thinks upon her.
Happy is the good man, if he can but act the part of a Ninny, and hath
busied himself for the most part in the Kitchin; then he may be now
and then admitted to cast in his verdict; otherwise, let them talk as
long as they will, he is forced in great misery to afford them
audience. But it is much better for him, if, according as the occasion
gives opportunity, there be now and then spoken something concerning
the Child-bed woman, or about the shaking of the sheets, which is
seldom forgotten; because he is now already so far advanced in the
Cony-craft of that School, that he is gotten up to the Water Bucket.
In the mean while Peg runs too and again, almost like one out of her
sences, to hunt for the Nurse, who dwels in a little street upon a
back-Chamber, or in an Ally, or some other by-place; and she is just
now no where else to be found but at t'other end of the City, there
keeping another Gentle woman in Child-bed.
Here is now again other fish to fry, for one will not be without her,
and t'other must needs have her, each pretending to have an equal
right to her. And the Nurse, finding that each of them so much desires
her, thinks no small matter of her self, but that she is as wise as
many a Ladies woman or Salomons Cat, and that her fellow is hardly to
be found. But before some few daies are past, there's a great trial to
be made of the Nurses experience and understanding; for, let them do
what they will or can, the Child will not suck; yea, and what's worse,
it hath gotten a lamentable Thrush. Alas a day what bad work is here
again, the Nurse is so quamish stomackt that she cannot suck her
Mistres, therefore care must be taken to find out some body or other
that will come and suck the young womans breasts for twelve pence a
time; or else her breasts will grow hard with lumps and fester for
want of being drawn. Or else also with the sucking she gets in the
tipples.
Now is the right time to fetch the Apothecary to make ready plaisters,
and bring Fennel-water to raise the milk, that the lumps may be driven
away; and most especially that the cloves in the tipples may be cured.
Help now or never good M^{r}. Doctor, for if this continue much
longer, the young woman perhaps gets an Ague that may then cost her
her life.
Verily, in this state and condition of the woman is also some pleasure
to be found, for you may keep your wife now very cheap; she is not now
so liquorish and sweet-tooth'd, as when she was with Child; which in
deed is very good at all times, but most especially in this pittifull
time for there's now nothing fitter for her to eat then a little good
broth, stew'd Prunes, Caudle, Water-gruel, roasted Apples, or new laid
Egs.
But now, Father, your Pleasure will immediately be augmented, for it
will not be long before you will have some or other Gentlewomen come
to give you a visit, who will then also out of their Closets of
understanding be very much assistant to you with their advice and
counsel for there are very few of them that are not deeply experienced
in Sir _Thomas Browns_ Mid-wivery, and if any thing do happen more
then ordinary, they never want for remedies.
Now there is Doctor _Needhams_ wife, who by her own experimenting,
hath knowledge of several other things: But upon such an occasion as
this, there is nothing better then that the child must be glister'd;
and for the lumps you must indevour through a continual chafing to get
them out of the young womans breasts. But Mistris _Rattle-pate_
relates, how miserably, she was troubled with an humour in her breast,
when she lay in; but that she had alwaies cured her self of it, by
only taking a Sandwich Carrot, and scraping it hollow in the inside,
and then put like a hat upon the tipple, this drew out all ill humour,
without any pain, or the least fear of danger.
Yes truly, saith Mrs _Talk-enough_, I do indeed forsooth beleeve that
that is very good, but here are very sore nipples, and they begin to
be chop'd; and there must be a special care taken for that; therefore
it will not be amiss to strengthen the nipples with a little _Aqua
vitæ_, and then wash them with some Rosewater that hath kernels of
Limons steep'd in it. There's nothing like it, or better, I have lain
in of thirteen children, but never tried any thing that did me so much
good, or gave me half the ease. Pray, dear Mistris, be sure to make
use of that, you will never repent it.
But Mistris _Know-all_ saith, that she hath made use of this also, and
found some ease by it; and that she hath tried above an hundred other
things, that were approved to be good; yet of all things never found
nothing under the Sun that was more noble then _Salvator Winter's_
Salve, for that cures immediately: And you can have nothing better.
Yet Mistris _Stand to't_, begins to relate wonderfull operations done
with oyl of Myrrhe; and of the plaisters that are made by the
Gentlewoman in Py-yard.
Now comes the sage Matron Experience, saying that she hath learnt a
secret from a prudent Doctor that's worth its weight in Gold, nor can
the vertue thereof be too much commended. And she hath already
communicated it unto several persons; but there are none that tried it
who do not praise it to be incomparable: therefore she hath been very
vigilant to note it down in S. _John Pain_, and _Nic-Culpeppers_
Works; to the end that her posterity may not only make use of it, but
participate it to others: This is, _Lapis Calaminaris_ prepared,
mingled with a small quantity of May-butter, and then temper them
together with the point of a knife upon an earthen plate, just as the
Picture Drawers do their Colours upon their Pallet, which will bring
it to be a delicate salve; and is also very soft and supple for the
chops of the tipples; nay, though the child should suck it in, yet it
doth it no harm; and it doth not alone cure them, but prevents the
coming of any more.
Yes, saith Mistris _Consent to all_, and my advice is then to take a
little horn, with a sheeps udder, & lay that upon the Tipples, for
that defends them, and occasions their curing much better and sooner.
O what a pleasure it is to hear all the pretty considerations of so
many prudent Doctresses! If _Clement Marot_ might but revive, I am
sure he would find here as many Doctresses, as ever there were Doctors
at Paris. But O how happy will this fortunate new Father be, when he
may but once see the back-sides of all these grave and nice
Doctresses! But my truth, this may very well be registred for one of
the most accomplished Pleasures.
But yet all this doth not help the young woman. Perhaps all these
remedies may be good, saith the Grand-Mother but they are not for our
turns; for alas a day, the very smell of salve makes her fall into a
swoon; neither can she suffer the least motion of sucking, for the
very pain bereaves her of her sences. What shall we do then? to keep a
Wet-Nurse is both very damageable, and cruel chargeable; for
Wet-Nurses are generally very lazy and liquorish, and they are ever
chatting and chawing something or other with the Maids; and in their
manner they baptize it, with saying it is very necessary & wholesom
for the Child. And then again, to put the Child out to Nurse, hath
also several considerations; first it estrangeth much from you, and
who knows how ill they may keep it. Therefore it is best to keep it at
home, and indeavour the bringing of it up with the Spoon, feeding it
often with some pure and cordial diets fit for the appetite, and now
and then giving it the sucking bottle.
But what remedy now? this is all to no purpose: For though the
Grandmother, Nurse, and Ant do what they can, yet all their labour's
lost. And the Child is so froward and peevish, that the Nurse is ready
to run away from it; nay, though she dandle and play with it alwaies
till past midnight, it is but washing the Black-a-more; in so much
that a Wet-Nurse must be sought for, or away goes the Child to
_Limbo_. For this again is required good advice, and the chusing of a
good one hath its consideration: But the tender heartedness and kind
love that the Mother hath for her Child can no way suffer this, she
will rather suck it her self though the pain be never so great. Yet
having tried it again a second time, the pain is so vehement that it
is impossible to withstand it; therefore the new Father cannot be at
quiet till there be a Wet-Nurse found and brought to them. For it goes
to the very heart of both Father and Mother to put the Child out to
Nurse.
And do but see after much seeking and diligent inquiring, the new made
Grandmother, hath at last found one, who is a very neat cleanly and
mighty modest woman, her husband went a little while ago to the
_East-Indies_, & her child died lately.
This is no small joy but an extraordinary Pleasure, both for the new
Father, and Child-bed woman. Oh now their hearts are at rest. And now
all things will go well; for as the Wet-Nurse takes care of the Child;
the dry Nurse doth of the Mother, & all this pleases the good Father
very well.
Now Child-bed-woman your time is come to make much of your self, that
you may recover strength. Now you wont be troubled with the pains of
sucking, or disturbed of your natural rest: now you must let the
Wet-Nurse take care for every thing, and look after or meddle with
nothing your self. Now you must sleep quietly, eat heartily, and groan
lustily. And though you be very well and hearty, yet you must seem to
be weak and quamish stomackt; for first or last the month of lying-in
must be kept full out. Do but think now by your self what you have a
mind either to eat, or drink; the first and worst daies are with the
tossing and turmoiling passed by; neither can you recover any strength
with eating of Water-gruel, sugar-sops, rosted Apples, and new laid
Egs; you are not only weary of them, but it is too weak a diet for
you. The nine daies are almost past, and now you must have a more
strengthening diet; to wit, a dish of fine white Pearch, a roasted
Pullet, half a dozen of young Pigeons, some Wigeons or Teal, some
Lams-stones, Sweetbreads, a piece of roast Veal, and a delicate young
Turky, &c. And whilest you are eating, you must be sure to drink two
or three glasses of the best Rhenish wine, very well sweetned with the
finest loaf sugar, you must also be very carefull of drinking any
French wine, for that will too much inflame you.
O new Father, what a Pleasure must all these things be for you; and
especially, because now you begin at the Bed-side to eat and drink
again with your Child-bed wife; and you begin also to perceive that if
all things advance as they hitherto have done, you may then again in
few daies make fresh assaults of hugging and embracing her.
This is that jolly month or six weeks that all women talk so
pleasantly of; because it learns them alwaies such a curious
remembrance. And really it is almost impossible that the husband at
these rates can grow lean with it; because he as well as his wife sits
to be cram'd up too: And he can now with his dearest daily contrive
and practice what the Nurse shall make ready, that his Child-bed wife
may eat with a better appetite, and recover new strength again. I
would therefore advise the carefull Nurse as a friend, that she
should be sure to provide her self with the _Compleat Cook_, that she
might be the more ready to help the Child-bed woman to think upon what
she hath a mind to have made ready, for her brains are but very weak
yet; so that she cannot so quickly and easily remember at first what
is pleasantest and wholesomest to be eaten.
O thrice happy new Father that have gotten such a prudent diligent and
carefull Nurse for your Child-bed wife! what great Pleasure is this!
And behold, by this delicate eating and drinking, your Dearest begins
from day to day to grow stronger and stronger; insomuch that she
begins to throw the Pillow at you, to spur you up to be desirous of
coming to bed to her: Yea, she promiseth you, that before she is out
of Child-bed, she will make you possessor of another principal and
main Pleasure.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Folio 141. _Published by the Navarre Society, London._]
THE NINTH PLEASURE.
_Of the Gossips Feast._
Now, O new Father, you have had the possession of eight pleasures,
which undoubtedly have tickled you to some purpose.
But now there is a new one approaching, that will be as full of so
many joyfull delights and wishings of prosperity, as ever the first
and most famous hath been; for it seems as if your Child-bed wife
begins to be a weary of this lazy liquorish life, and to leave off her
grunting and groaning; because she now longs to be gadding up and down
the street, or standing at the dore with her Babe in her arms.
But before this can be done, you know that there ought to be a Gossips
Feast kept. To this end the Nurse must be sent abroad; and a serious
Counsel held, as if the Parliament of women were assembled, to consult
who shall be invited, and who not. 's Wounds, what a list of relations
and strange acquaintance are here sum'd up in a company together, to
be invited to the Gossipping Feast. 'Tis impossible, the Nurse can
ever do this all in one day; because she would not willingly miss any
of them, out of the earnest hopes she hath of the Presents she
expects. And then also she must give an account to every one of them
that are invited of the state and condition of the Child-bed woman and
her Child. I wonder that there is no body that sollicites to have the
Office of an Inviter to all such sort of Gossippings, but the women
understand these affairs and the ordering of such sort of invitations
much better than any one else, therefore 'tis not necessary.
O, new Father, what a sweet Delight and Pleasure you must needs have
in reviewing this great List of your Gossips! What multiplicities of
wishes of joy and prosperity have you to expect! But if I were to be
your Counsellor, I assure you I would order the Nurse to desire Doctor
_Toss-bowl_, my Lord _Drinkfirst_ and then the other Gentlemen, to
wit, Masters _Cleardrinker, Dryliver, Spillnot, Sup-up, Seldom-sober_,
and _Shift-gut_, to fetch home their Wives in good time from the
Gossipping; because you have other mens Wives, who are your near
relations, that you must entertain longer; and they otherwise will
never think of rising or going home though it were midnight: And by
this means you will have a fit opportunity, with a full Bowl and a
Pipe, to wash away that rammish sent of a Child-bed out of your
brains; and also after many hopes, once arrive to the height of
receiving your full delight and pleasure. And then you may e'en clap
it all together upon the account of a Lying-in.
Now Nurse, here you have work by whole hand-fulls: for you shall no
sooner have made an end of your other errands, but immediately there's
so much tricking and pricking of all things up in neat order against
the coming of the sharp-sighted guests; that it's a terror to think
on't. Their eys will fly into every nook and corner; nay the very
house of Office must be extraordinary neat and clean; for Mistris
_Foul-arse_, Gossip _Order-all_, and Goody _Dirty-buttocks_, will be
peeping into every crevise and cranny: And because they will do it
forsooth, according to their fashion, they make a shew as if they must
go to the necessary Chamber, with a Letter to _Gravesend_, only to
take an inspection whether it be as cleanly there as it is upon the
Gossipping Chamber where all the Guests are. And 'tis a wonder if they
do not look into the Seat, to see whether there be no Spyders webs
spun in it; or whether the Goldfinders Merchandize be of a good
colour, equal-size and thickness.
But come let's pass all this by: for in the middle of these
incumbrances, the time will not only fly away; but we shall, at the
hour appointed, be surprized by our Guests. Uds life, how busie the
Wet and Dry-Nurses are with dressing the Babe neatly. Now Father,
look once upon your Child! O pretty thing! O sweet-fac'd dainty
darling! 'tis Father's own picture! Well what would not one undergo to
be the Mother of so fine an Angel! And who can or dare doubt any thing
of it, for the Mother loves it, and the Father beleeves it, nay and
all the friends that come tumbling in one upon another to-day, do
confirm it: For behold, every one looks earnestly at the Babe; and
doth not a little commend his prettiness. One saith it is as like the
Father (alias Daddy) as one drop of Water is like another. Another,
that the upper part of the face, forehead, eys and nose incline very
much to be like the mother; but downwards it is every bit the Father.
And who forsooth should not beleeve it, if it be a son. Every one is
in an admiration. O me, what a pretty sweet Infant! Nurse, you have
drest it up most curiously! And truly there's no cost spar'd for the
having very rich laces.
Thus they ly and tamper upon this first string, till the Child-bed
woman begins to enter upon the relating what great pain in travell she
had to fetch this Child out of the Parsly-bed, what a difference there
was between her, and others of her acquaintance, &c. Thereout every
one hath so much matter, as would make a long-winded sermon; and the
conclusion generally is the relating how and when the good man crept
to bed to her again; and how such a one had been a fortnight with
Child, before she went to receive her churching. Where upon another
comes with a full-mouth'd confession, that her husband was not half so
hot.
Do but tarry a little yet, till the Gossipping-bowl hath gone once or
twice more about with old Hock; then you'l hear these Parrots tell you
other sorts of tales.
In the mean while, do but see the husband, poor _Nicholas None-eys_
how he rejoyces, that his wife is so reasonable strong again; and that
she is so neatly trickt up sitting in state in the best furnished
room, by the bed-side! O what a pleasure this is! O how he treats all
the women with delicate Marget Ale, and Sack and Sugar! [unless he
begin to bethink himself, and for respects sake or frugality, sets
some bottles aside; because he perceives it to be nothing else but a
vast expence and womens Apish tricks]. How busie he is in carving for
them of his Roast-beef, Capons, Turkey-py, Neats-tongue, or some other
savoury bit to make their mouths relish their liquor the better; and
then stand fast Bowls and glasses for they resolve not to flinch from
it. And indeed why should he not? for he is now a whole estate richer
then he was before; and what need he care for it then.
Well behold here! Now the womens mouths are a beginning to be first a
little warm; and none of them all can be silent, though they should
speak of their own Commodities.
O how happy would you be, O Goodman _Cully_, if you had but as many
ears as _Argus_ had eys, that you might hear every where, whilest you
are carving and serving of them, what pretty sweet stories and
discourses, these sorts of Parrats will be talking of? For Mistris
_Sharp-set_ relates, what a pleasure she oft times received in it, to
keep School-time with her husband at noons, as soon as they had
feasted their carkasses well: but that conning of her lesson had
caused her severall times to make a journy to the Parsly-bed.
At this Mistris _Sincere_ wonders extreamly; saying how strangely
these things happen to one woman more then another. In our Parish
there is a married woman brought to bed, but she was so miserably
handled by the Midwife, that no tongue can express it. Insomuch that
Master _Peepin_ the Man Midwife, was fain to be fetcht, to assist with
his Instrument; it was a very great wonder that the woman ever escaped
it; which is most lamentable indeed to be related; and too sad indeed
to be placed by me among the Pleasures of Marriage.
In the mean time, at the t'other end of the Chamber, Mistris
_Fairtail_ relates a pretty story how their Maid was very curiously
stitcht up by their Tailor; and how she was every foot running
thither, then to have a hole finely drawn that she had torn in her
Petti-coat, another while to have her Bodice made a little wider, and
then again to have her stockins soled.
It is no wonder, (saith Mistres _Paleface_) that this should happen to
a poor innocent servant Maid; there was my husbands first wives niece
M^{rs}. _Young-rose_ that modest Virgin, she kept such a close
conversation & daily communication with Master _Scure_, that at last
there appeared a little _Cupid_ with little ears, and short hair.
Nay then (saith Mistris _Lookabout_) those two sisters need not twit
one another in the teeth with it; for the t'other kept such a sweet
compliance and converse with the Spanish Fruiterer, yonder at the
corner-house, where she did eat so many China Oranges, and other
watrish fruits, that they caused her to get an extraordinary swelling
under her stomack; which Doctor _Stultus_ judged to proceed from some
obstructions, wind, and other watrish humours; but it did not continue
so long before her Mother, beginning better to apprehend the nature of
her distemper, sent her away to her Country-house at Hackney.
Mistris _Lookabout_ was going to begin again; but they heard such
rapping and knocking at the dore, that one of them said I beleeve
there are our husbands; and indeed she guest very well. This augmented
their mirth mightily. And especially of the Nurse; for now she was
sure that, if the good Cully her Master treated his Gossips nobly and
liberally, her presents would be doubled. But Nurse do not cheat your
self, for fear it might happen otherwise; I know once a merry boon
Companion, who being at a Gossipping Feast, called the Nurse alone to
him; and saies to her, Nurse, I'l swear you are very vigilant and take
a great deal of pains, in serving both us and our wives with all
things, and also filling of us full glasses and bowls: hark hither, my
wife is a little covetous, and oft-times so narrow-soul'd that she
doth not keep her credit where she ought to do, so that I beleeve her
gift will not be very great, and truly because you are such a good
body, see there, that's for you, put it some where privately away; &
there-with thrusts her an indifferent great brass Counter, wrapt up in
a paper, into her hand. The Nurse certainly beleeving this to be at
the least a Crown piece, thanks him very demurely, and puts it in her
Pocket; never opening it till they were every one of them gone, but
then she saw that she was basely cheated. But Nurse you are warned now
by this, another time you may look better to't. Yet methinks I'd fill
about lustily, it is the good man of the house his wine; and when the
Wine begins to surge crown-high; the men are much more generous than
before.
And verily methinks I have a mind to take my portion of it also; but
yet not so as the Nurse did at my Neeces, who had toss'd up her bowls
so bravely upon the good health of the Child-bed woman her Mistriss,
that when she was going to swathe and feed the Child, instead of
putting the spoon into the mouth, she thrust it under the chin, &
sometimes against the breast; and then when she was about swathing of
it; as it is commonly the custom to lay a wollen blanket and linnen
bed together, she wrapt the poor Infant with its little naked body
only in the blanket alone.
O thrice happy young Father, who have hitherto so nobly treated and
entertained all your She Gossips, and had the audience of all their
curious relations! Now you will have the honour also of entertaining
their husbands your He-Gossips, who will not be backward in doing of
you reason out of the greatest bowl you will set before them, and talk
as freely of a Py-corner merchandize.
Who is there now that doth not praise, and commend your manfull deeds
to the highest? Ha, ha, saith Master _Laugh wel_, that's a Child! who
ever saw a braver! there's not the fellow on't! O my dearest, I have
such a delight in this Child, that if we were but a little alone
together, I'd cast you such another as if it were of the same mould.
Stay a little, stay a little, saith _Master Fillup_, it may be you
would not run so strong a course. Yet I saw once two Souldiers who
were Batchelors, that were sitting in an evening drinking in an
Alehouse, and talking lustily of the Bobbinjo trade; whereupon one of
them said; Cocksbobs _Jack_ if I had but a Wife, as well as another,
I'd presently get her with Child of a brave boy. Ho, ho, saith the
t'other, it is an easie thing to get a Wife if one seek it. If I
would, I dare lay a wager on't, I would be the Bridegroom within the
space of two hours. The other not beleeving him, they laid a wager
between them for a bottle of Wine. Hereupon one of them went out of
dores just upon the striking of the clock; & hardly was gone a streets
length, before he met with a bonny bouncing girl, who was going of an
errand for her Mistris, and he presently laies her on board. But she
seemed to be very much offended, that an honest Maid going about her
business in the evening, should be in this manner so encountred by a
strange fellow, with a sword by his side. Verily, Sweetheart, said he,
you have a great deal of reason in all what you say; but you may
certainly beleeve that it is an honest person who speaks to you, and
only seeks an occasion to be acquainted with a virtuous good
condition'd Maid. My wearing of a sword, is because I am a Souldier,
and am very well known by many honest people. And truly, if you please
to admit me this favour, you shall see and find me to be an honest
man, and none of those that go about to ly and deceive any body; and
indeed my intention & desire is to marry, to that end seeking nothing
but an honest Maid, and I doubt not but that I have at this time found
one to my mind. And went forward with his chat in these sort of terms.
But the Maid denied him, saying, that she had no mind at-all to a
Souldier, because it was one of the poorest and miserablest sort of
levelihoods; their pay being but very little, and they were seldom
advanced, &c. He on the other side commending & approving a Souldiers
life to be the merriest, resolutest, & absolute easiest of any that
was under the Sun; because that neither hungrie care, nor finical
pride did any waies take place by them, but that they, on the
contrary, were alwaies merry, never admitting sorrow into their
thoughts. 'Tis true, said he, our pay is but small; but then again,
all what the Country people have, is our own; for what we want our
selves, we get from them: we never take care for to morrow, having
alwaies something fresh, & every day new mirth. Riches, Sweetheart,
doth not consist in multiplicity of Goods, but in content; & there's
no one better satisfied than a Souldier, therefore you shall alwaies
see an honest Souldier look plump and fat, just as I do: but Drunkards
and Whore-masters fall away miserably, &c.
In short, the Maid begun a little to listen to him (and so much the
more, because that very morning she had a falling out with her
Mistris) and told him, she would take it into consideration. He
answered her again, what a fidle stick, why should we spend time in
thinking? we are equally matcht: a Souldier never thinks long upon any
thing, but takes hold of all present opportunities, and it generally
falls out well with him. But she drawing back a little, he saith, ah
my dearest, you must take a quick resolution. Behold there, yonder
comes a Cloud driving towards the Moon: I'l give you so much time,
till that be past by; therefore be pleased to resolve quick, for
otherwise I must go & seek my fortune by another. For a Soldier
neither woos nor threatens long.
Upon this she considered a little, but before the Cloud was past by
the Moon, she gave him her consent; and he gave her his Tobacco-box
for a pledge of marriage; and desired something of her in like manner
for a pledge; but she said she had nothing: howsoever he persisted so
strongly, that in conclusion she gave him her Garter for a pledge of
marriage. He was contented with it, and taking his leave, went unto
his Comrades; and told them what had hapned to him, shewing them the
Garter. Whereupon he that had laid the wager with him, askt, who it
was, what her name was, and where she dwelt, &c. And being told by
another, that it was a handsom, neat, and very well complexion'd Maid,
By my troth, said he, I wish I were to give four Cans of Wine that I
could light upon such another. Well, see there, saith the first, if
you will give four Cans of Wine, I will both give you the Garter & the
Maid too into the bargain: It was done but by Moonlight; so that she'l
hardly know whether it be me or another.
Hereupon the agreement was concluded, the two first Cans of Wine were
spent, and the Garter was delivered to him, and every one charged to
keep it secret.
This second Souldier goes to the Maid next day in the evening, at the
hour and place where they had appointed to meet. And there relating to
her several passages that were passed between them the day before, and
shewing her the Garter, made her beleeve that he was the person that
had contracted with her the day before. To be short, the Maid leaves
her service and marries him. And that which is most to be observed,
is, that that which the first Souldier vaunted to have done, the
second performed; for just nine months after they were married, she
was brought to bed of a gallant young boy, and they lived very
peaceably and quietly together.
Well, I'l vow, saith Master _Crossgrain_, that's a very notable
relation; it is better a great deal that the business happen so, then
like another, which is just contrary, that I shall make mention of to
you.
_Barebeard_ and _Mally_, who by a sudden accident, without much
wooing, were gotten together, and their first Bane of matrimony was
published; but falling out, they called one another all the names that
they could reap together; nay it run so high, that they would
discharge each other of their promises, and resolved to go to the
Bishop & crave that they might have liberty to forbid the Banes
themselves, which hapned so.
_Barebeard_ coming then with _Mall_ before his Grace, complained that
he did already perceive his intended marriage would never come to a
good event, because he found perfectly that this Maid was a lumpish
Jade, a nasty Slut, a Scolding, bawling Carrion, & a restless peece of
mortality. Therefore it might go as it would, he did not care for the
Maid, neither would he marry her, and for those reasons, he desired
his Grace to grant that the Banes might be forbidden; as thinking it
much better for him to quit her betimes, before it was too late. She
on the t'other side said, that he was one that run gadding along the
streets at all hours of the night, a private drunken beast, a
Spend-thrift, &c. so that she did not care for him neither. Whereupon
his Grace smiling told them, well you fellow and wench; do you think
that we do here so give and take away the consent of marriage? perhaps
when you are married, it may be much better, for the marriage bed doth
for the most part change the ten sences into five. But she answered,
may it please your Grace, he is no such man to do that, for all that
he can do is only to-follow his own round-head-like stiff-neckedness,
and e'en nothing else. Whereupon he again answered, may it please your
Grace, I have no mind ever to try it with such a creature as she is; I
should be then fast enough bound to her; neither would I willingly go
alive headlong to the Devil, to take my habitation in Hell.
The Bishop thus perceiving that no good thread could be spun of such
sort of Flax, caused the Banes to be forbidden. Then said _Barebeard_,
may it please your Grace, am I not a freeman, & may I not marry with
whom I please, or have a mind to? to which his Grace answered, yes.
Presently _Barebeard_ thrusting his head out at the dore, calls out
aloud, _Peg_ do you come hither now; and begged that his Grace would
be pleased to give him leave to marry with this person. Which Mall
seeing she cries out, you Rogue, you have been too cunning for me in
this; if I had the least thoughts on't, I would have had my _Hal_ to
have tarried for me at this dore, instead of tarrying for me at
another place. Whereupon his Grace, being in great ire, chid them most
shrewdly, giving them such strong reproofs, that at first it might
very well be imagined that he would never have admitted of a second
consent; yet afterwards upon considerations it was granted. But
_Barebeard_ being now married with _Peg_, they got no children: And
_Mall_ being married to _Hal_, they had both a Son and a Daughter at
one birth. By which its easie to be observed what acquaintance _Mall_
had made with _Barebeard_ before hand, & why she would rather marry
with Hall then with him.
To this again Mistris _Sweetmouth_ relates, that she had been several
times invited to Mistris _Braves_ labour; and that she had been twice
brought to bed very happily of two delicate twins. And in the last
encounter, for a recompence of the affection of her Beloved, she
presented him with two lustly and gallant boys; but because she would
equally balance his great bounty; the Midwife takes the same walk
again for another, and finding in what condition things stood, she
calls for a bason of warm water, bringing out at last a most delicate
pretty daughter, that was yet poor thing wrapt up in the Cawl. Which
she immediately laid into the warm water, and shewed unto them all the
wonderfull works of nature; for there they could see it move and stir,
as if it had been in its Mothers glass Bottle; but the skin being just
cut open with a small hole, it begun presently to make a little noise
like a weak childish voice, which indeed was very rare & pleasant to
be seen. In truth, such a Father, who can cast every time such high
doubblets, may very well be called by the name of Brave.
But this Story was hardly told before Mistris _Tittle-tattle_ pursued
it with another out of the same Text, saying, A little more then two
years ago I was at a Gossipping by Mistris _Gay_, who was then brought
to bed both of a Son and a Daughter, also at one birth; but indeed the
Labour came so violently upon her, that as she was standing upon the
stairs, not being able to set one foot further; and having neither
Midwife, nor any other women of her neighbors and friends, only the
assistance of her husband and the Maid; she was immediately delivered
of two gallant Children; but they did not live long.
Upon my word, said Mistris _Bounce-about_, it is an excellent help
when men understand their travelling upon such sort of roads. It
hapned to me once that some Gentlewomen were merry with me somewhat
late in the evening; and because I had had several Symptoms of Labour,
said this, Mistris _Bounce-about_, if you would now take a walk to the
Parsley bed, we would help you very bravely; but neither wind nor
weather was serviceable at that time. But they had hardly been gone an
hour, and being in bed with my husband, and he very fast asleep;
before there begun such an alteration of the weather; that my husband
must up with all speed, who wakened the Maid, and sent her for the
Midwife laying on fire himself in all hast; yet do all what they
could, within less then a quarter of an hour, and that without any
bodies help but my husbands, my journy was performed; but things were
done with such a confusion; that he received the child in the
Christning cloath instead of the Blanket.
And a thousand more such stories as these are ript up; that would
burthen the strongest memory to bear them: and so much the more,
because it is impossible to distinguish one from the t'other, when
the men and the women that gabble so one among another. And oft-times
they spin such course threads of bawdery in their talk, that are
enough to spoil a whole web of linnen. And who can tell but that their
tattling would last a whole night, for there's hardly one of them who
hath not at the least a hundred in their Budgets; but because it is
high time that either the Dry or Wet-Nurse must go to swathe the
child, they begin to break off and shorten their prittle-prattle.
Now young Father, do but observe what fine airy complements will be
presented to you at their parting. Every one thanks you for your kind
and cordial entertainment, and not one of them forgets to wish that
you may the next year either have a Daughter to your Son, or a Son to
your Daughter; imagining then that all things is well, when you
receive such a full crop: But I am most apt to beleeve that all their
wishes aim at the But of coming next year again to the Gossips Feast,
to toss up the Gossips-bowl, and in telling of a bobbinjo story they
peep into all nooks and corners.
Well, O new Father, this Pleasure begins to come to a conclusion; but
prithee tell me, would not a body wish for the getting of such
another, that his Wife might make a journy to the Parsly-bed twice a
year?
Now Nurse have at you; you shall now reap the fruit of all your
running and going early & late to invite them. Oh thinks she by her
self, would but every shilling change it self into a crown-peece. But
Nurse you'l hardly be troubled with a fit of that yellow Jaundies
sickness, for there's no drug at the Apothecaries, nor any lice among
the Beggars that can cure you of it. And I dare say Nurse, that you'l
go nigh to perceive that its a very hard time, and mony mighty scarce:
because formerly the women used to put their hands more liberally in
their purses, and one gave a crown, another half a crown; but the
times are now so strangely altered, that they keep little
mild-shillings only for that use, nay some of them rub it off with a
couple of their Grandams gray groats. But howsoever I hope for your
sake, it will not be here according as often happens, fair promises
but no performances; for if it should, I protest ye ought to have made
your bargain to have had a peece more at the least for your Nurse
keeping; or otherwise you must have had the full liberty to toss up
the remains of all that was left in the Gossipping Bowls, or else to
have carried the key of the Wine Cellar alwaies in your pocket, and
then after the feeding and swathing the child, you might in the
twinkling of an eye, swinge up a lustly glass upon the good health of
the Father, Child-bed mother and the Child; for the Wine was laid in
to be made use of to that end and purpose; and it is commonly known
that the Nurses are not so mealy mouth'd; for although they don't do
it that every one should see it, they'l be sure with the Maid to get
their shares in one corner or other. But you must for this again
think, that the freer you let them take their swing herein, the more
care they will take for the Child.
Now Nurse, don't spare to make good use of your time, for it belongs
amongst other things to this Pleasure; and the new Father will
nevertheless be turning about to another mirth, and then you may be
sure to expect to have a God be w'ye. Therefore make much of your
self, and toss up your glasses stoutly at the Wine-Cask; who knows
whether you may have the opportunity this twelve month again to meet
with such a good Nurse-keeping; a liquorish sweet-tooth'd Child-bed
woman, & a plentifull housekeeping, is not every where. And you may
certainly beleeve, that the month will be no sooner ended, then that
you'l begin to stink here; for the Mistris will begin to consider with
her self, that she can make a shift with the Maid and Wet-Nurse; so
that then you must expect to get your undesired Pass.
Then you must return back again to your own lodging, that dark, moist
and mournfull Cell, and satisfie your self, if you can get it, with a
mess of milk and brown George, or some such sort of lean fare. So that
you'l have time enough to wast away that fulsomness and fogginess of
body, that you have gotten in your Nurse-keeping. For there's no body
that will give you any thing, or thinks in the least upon your
attendance, unless they want you again.
O new Father, pray for it to come again within a twelve month, that
you may have a renewing of this pleasure once more; for it is with the
Nurse-taking its leave, and will conduct you to a following.
* * * * *
THE TENTH PLEASURE.
_A great Child-bed Feast is kept, and the Child put in Cloaths._
Oh how pleasant is th'estate of married people, above that of
Batchelors and Maids? how it distributes Mirths and Pleasures! Verily
one may in some measure recogitate or write something of it, but it is
impossible to imprint so Sun-like a splendor in Potters clay, or to
display it with the most curious Colours. Though the accomplishedst
Painter might have drawn it very near the life, yet it would be but a
dead draught, in comparison of the reality and experience that is
found in it self. You have already seen here nine Parts or Tables but
it is not ninety Pictures that can sufficiently shew you the fulness
of one of the nine Parts.
Be therefore chearfully merry, O sweet Couple, because you are in so
short a time arisen to the height of being possessors of all these
Pleasures: And so much the more, the ninth being hardly past, before
the tenth follows, as it were treading upon the heels of the t'other.
[Illustration: Folio 188. _Published by The Navarre Society, London._]
They have scarce wiped their mouths or digested the Child-bed Wine in
their stomacks, before there starts up a new day of mirth & jollity;
for now there must be a Child-bed feast kept & the child must be put
in Cloaths. O what two vast Pleasures are these for the young Father!
'tis indeed too much joy for one person alone to be possessor of.
At first you had the Pleasure for to treat the Women, those pretty
pleasing Creatures, and to hear all their sweet and amiable
discourses. But now you shall be honoured with treating the Matron
like Midwife, and those Men and Women that are your kindest friends
and nearest relations; Yea and the God-Fathers and God-Mothers also
who will all of them accompany you with courteous discourses and
pleasant countenances: They will begin a lusty Bowl or thumping glass,
_super naculum_ drink it out, upon the health & prosperity of you,
your Bedfellow and young Son; and very heartily wish that you may
increase and multiply, at least every year with one new Babe; because
that they then might the better come to the Child-bed Feast.
Here you'l see now how smartly they'l both lick your dishes, and toss
your Cups and Glasses off. Begin you only some good healths, as; pray
God bless his Majesty and all the Royal Family: the Prosperity of our
Native Country; all the Well wishers of the Cities welfare, &c. And
when you have done, they'l begin; and about it goes to invest you with
the honour and name, in a full bowl to the Father of the Family; Well
is not that a noble title; such a Pleasure alone is worth a thousand
pounds at lest.
And whilest the Men are busie this way; the good woman with the other
Women are contriving on the other side how the Child ought to be put
in Cloaths upon the best and modishest manner: For she is resolved to
morrow morning to be Church'd, & in the afternoon she'l go to market.
She accomplishes the first well enough, but is at a damnable doubt in
the second part of her resolution; for by the way, in the Church, and
in the streets, she hath continually observed severall children, and
the most part of them dressed up in severall sorts of fashions: Some
of them she hath a great fancy for, but then she doubts whether that
be the newest mode or not. One seems too plain and common, which makes
her imagine in her thoughts; that's too Clownish. But others stand
very neat and handsom. 'Tis true, the Stuf and the Lining is costly
and very dear; but then again it is very comly and handsom. And then
again she thinks with her self, as long as I am at Market, I'd as good
go through stirch with it; and make but one paying for all; it is for
our first, and but for a little child, not for a great person;
therefore it is better to take that which is curious and neat, the
price for making is all one; besides it will be a great Pleasure for
my husband when he sees how delicately the child is drest up, and his
mony so extraordinarily well husbanded.
Now, my dearest, pray be you merry: if the stuf hath cost somthing
much, you have need but of little; and it is for your first. When it
grows bigger, or that you get more, you must part with much more mony.
Don't grudge at this for once, because then you would spoil all your
mirth and Pleasure with it. Rejoice that you have a Wife, who is not
only good to fetch children out of the Parsley Bed; but is also very
carefull to see them well nourished, and neat and cleanly cloath'd.
You your self have the praise and commendation of it. Let her alone a
while, for women must have their wills; say but little to her, for her
brains are too much busied already; and it may be that in three hours
time, you would hardly get three words of answer from her; and suppose
you should relate somthing or other to her, this shall be your answer
from her at last, that she did not well understand you, because all
her thoughts, nay her very sences do as it were glide to & again, one
among another continually, to order the dressing up of her child.
I am very well assured, O new invested Husband, that your wits at
present run a Wool-gathering, because that both Merchandize and Trade
are neither of them so quick as you would fain see them; and by reason
of this tedious and destructive War, monies is horrible scarce,
nothing near so plentifull as you could wish it to be: But comfort
your self herewith, that it hath hapned oft-times to others, & will
yet also happen oftner to you. Yet this is one of the least things;
but stay a little, to morrow or next day the Nurse goes away. This
seems to be a merriment indeed; for then you'l have an Eater, a
Stroy-good, a Stuf-gut, a Spoil-all, and Prittle-pratler, less than
you had before.
You are yet so happy that you have a Wet-Nurse, that carefully looks
after the Child; by which means both you and your Wife are freed from
tossing and tumbling with it in the night: whilest others, on the
contrary, that have no Wet-Nurses in their houses; begin first to
tast, when the Dry-Nurse goes away, what a Pleasure it is that the
Child must be set by the Bedside, and the charge thereof left unto
both Father & Mother, when it oftentimes happens that the good woman
is yet so weak, she can neither lay the Child in, nor take it out of
the Cradle; insomuch that the Father here must put a helping hand
to't, because he is of a stronger constitution, and hath the greatest
share in it.
By my faith such as those are they who have the first and true tast of
the Kernel of the Tenth Pleasure; because the husband ought as then,
out of a tender affection for his wife to rock continually, that she
might take her rest; otherwise she would not get any suck in her
breasts for the Child: And happy they are somtimes, if they come off
with but rocking the most part of the night; for many times it
happens, that the Child is so restless and unquiet, that Father,
Mother, & Maid; nay and all whatsoever is in the house must out of
their beds to quiet it; and though they use a thousand tricks and
stratagems, yet all's to no purpose.
And yet this is but a small matter for them neither; for before a few
months are past, the child begins to get teeth; and bawls and cries so
night & day, that they can tell the clock all the night long; wishing
a thousand thousand times over that they might see day-break; and so
by the comfortable assistance of day-light receive a little solace for
all their toiling and tumbling too and again.
Yet I would advise such as these, that they must in no manner be
discomforted at this; if they intend to demonstrate that they have
learnt somthing in the School of Marriage, to exercise their
patiences: But, on the contrary, to shew themselves contented with all
things; being assured, that hereafter when all this trouble is past,
they shall receive the happiness, that the child will return them
thanks with its pretty smiles; and in time also will salute them with
a slabbering cocurring. And I beleeve now that they clearly find that
all things do not go so even in this World, as they well imagined: And
that the fairest Sunshine of Marriage, may be somtimes darkned with a
Cloudy Storm.
You married people, that have the help of a Wet-Nurse, receive a much
greater advantage in participating of the Pleasures of Marriage,
neither need you to be troubled with tossing & dandling of the child
in the night.
O, young House-Father, this is a most incomparable Pleasure for you!
For now you may most certainly see the approach of a Daughter to your
Son; and by that means reap the possession again of all those former
Pleasures; & by every one be saluted with the Title that you are an
excellent good Artist.
If it be so, be carefull that you do not gad up and down with your
wife too much on horseback, or in Coaches; for fear it might make her
miscarry. But you have learnt all these things well enough at the
first, and without doubt have kept them well in remembrance.
Do but behold, in the mean time, what an unexpressible Pleasure your
dearly Beloved hath in the tricking up of her sweet Baby in the most
neatest dresses. What a World of pains she takes & spends her spirits,
to make the Tailor understand, according to what fashion she will have
it made; & to hasten him that all things may be ready and totally
finisht against Sunday next.
O new Father, now open your eys! Behold what a pretty Son you have!
How happy you are in so loving and understanding a Wife that knows how
to trick it so curiously up in this manner! She was never better
pleased! Undoubtedly the Summer nights are too long, and the daies too
short for her to gad up and down traversing the streets of the City,
that she may fullfill her desire of shewing it to every body: never
was any thing more neatly drest. But the Nurse and the Maid with the
Child in the mean while at Jericho; for their very backs and sides
seem to be absolutely broken with carrying it up & down from day to
day. And most especially when the Child is wean'd, and the Wet-Nurse
turn'd away, the Maid cannot let it penetrate into her brain; that she
now not only the whole week must rock, sing, dandle, dress, and walk
abroad with it; but that she is upon Sundaies also bound to the Child,
like a Dog to a halter; and never can stir out, as she formerly did,
to walk abroad with _Giles the Baker_, or _John True the Tailor_; nor
so much as go once to give a visit to her Country-folks or kindred;
which occasions no small difference between the Maid and the Mistriss.
But good House Father, never trouble your self at it, for this belongs
also to the Pleasures of Marriage; nor do not seem discontented
because your Dearest walks abroad thus every day; but rather think
with your self, she takes her spinning Wheel and reel along with her.
And if in her absence, you have not that due attendance, nor find that
in the house and Kitchin things are not so well taken care for, why
then, you must imagine to be satisfied with th'assistance of the
Semstress, or some such sort of person, as well as you were when you
enjoied the Eighth Pleasure: You must also observe, that if the Child
should sit much, it might get crooked legs, and then the sweet Babe
were ruined for ever. It is also too weak yet to be any waies roughly
handled; but it begins from day to day to grow stronger and stronger:
Also with your Dearest carrying it abroad continually to visit all
your friends and acquaintance, it learns by degrees to eat all things,
and drinks not only Beer, but some Wine too. And I assure you it is no
small Pleasure for the Father and Mother to see that this little young
Gosling can so perfectly distinguish the tast of the Wine, from the
tast of the Beer: tho when it is come to some elder years, perhaps
they would give a hundred pound, if they could but wean it from it.
But that's too far to be lookt into. And care too soon taken makes
people quickly gray-headed.
Before you reach this length, yea perhaps before some few weeks are at
an end; you will see this sweet Babe afflicted with either the Measels
or small Pox; and then you'l wish for a good sum of mony that he might
not be disfigured with them, in having many pock-holes. And it is no
wonder, for who knows whether he may be past small-pocking and
measeling when he is five & twenty years of age? But on the contrary
there may then perchance appear so many glimps of marriage Pleasures
from him, that such small things will not be once lookt at.
For if your Wife be now upon a new reckoning, and you come then, as I
have told you before, to get a Daughter; you will in time see what a
pretty sweet Gentlewoman she'l grow to be; how modestly & orderly she
goes to learn to write and read; but most especially to prick samples;
which perhaps she'l be wholly perfect in, before she hath half learnt
to sow: nay its probable that she'l be an Artist at the making of
Bone-lace, though she was never taught it.
Otherwise both you & her Mother will reap an extraordinary Pleasure in
seeing your Daughter grow up in all manner of comly and civil
deportments; and that she begins to study in the book of _French
manners and behaviours_; and knows also how to dress up her self so
finically with all manner of trinkum trankums, that all the
neighbouring young Gentlewomen, and your rich Neeces esteem themselves
very much honoured with the injoiment of her company; where they,
following the examples of their Predecessors, do, by degrees, instruct
one another in the newest fashions, finest Flanders Laces, the
difference and richness of Stuffs, the neatest cut Gorgets, and many
more such Jincombobs as these. Nay, and what's more, they begin also
to invite and treat each other like grave persons, according as the
opportunity will allow them, first with some Cherries and Plums; then
with some Filbuds and Small Nuts; or Wallnuts & Figs; and afterwards
with some Chesnuts and new Wine; or to a game at Cards with a dish of
Tee, or else to eat some Pancakes and Fritters or a Tansie; nay, if
the Coast be clear to their minds to a good joint of meat & a Sallad.
Till at last it comes so far, that through these delicious
conversations, they happen to get a Sweetheart, and in good time a
bedfellow to keep them from slumbring and sleeping. And it is very
pleasing to see that they do so observe the making good of the old
Proverb,
_As old Birds did, the young ones sing,
Which is a very pleasant thing._
Happy are you, O you new Housholders, who have already possessed your
selves of so many Pleasures in your marriage; and are now come just to
the very entrance to repossess your selves of them over again; and
perchance they'l never depart from you as long as you see the one day
follow the other. Be not backward or negligent in relating your
happiness to others; but if there be any distast or disaster that can
happen in the married estate, lock it up in the very Closet of your
heart, and abhor everlastingly the thoughts of relating it; then you
will have many that will pursue your footsteps, and be Listed into
your Company, & then also will your estate and condition be famous
through the whole World.
CONCLUSION.
Thus long you have seen, Courteous Reader, how that those married
people, who are but indifferently gifted with temporal means,
indeavour to puff up each other with vain and airy hopes and
imaginations, perswading themselves that all the troubles, vexations,
and bondages of the married estate; are nothing else but Mirths,
Delights and Pleasures; perhaps to no other end but to mitigate their
own miserable condition, or else to draw others into the same unhappy
snare; as indeed oftentimes hapneth. But it is most sad and
lamentable, that the meaner sort of people, when they have thrown
themselves into it, make their condition a thousand times worse then
it was before: For they, who at first could but very soberly and
sparingly help themselves, do find when they are married, that they
must go through not only ten, but at least a thousand cares and
vexations. And all what hath hitherto been said of the ten Pleasures,
is only spoken of the good and most agreeable matches; and not of any
of those, which many times are so different and contrary of humour,
as the light is from darkness; where there is a continual Hell of
dissention, cursing, mumbling and maundring; nay biting & scratching
into the bargain, which for the most part is occasioned by the
quarrelsom, crabbed, lavish, proud, opinionated, domineering, and
unbridled nature of the female sex. Besides there are a great number
(which I will be silent of) who do all they can to please others, and
Cuckold their own husbands. And others there are that disguise
themselves so excessively with strong Waters, that a whole day long
they can hardly close their Floud-gates. So that you need not wonder
much, if you see the greatest part of women (tho they trick themselves
never so finely up) can hardly get husbands; and their Parents are
fain at last to give a good sum of mony with them, that they may
disburthen themselves of them. Insomuch that it is easie to be seen
that they are in effect of less value then old Iron, Boots and Shoes,
&c. for we find both Merchants and mony ready alwaies to buy those
commodities.
Therefore O you that are yet so happy as to have kept your selves out
of this dreadfull estate of marriage, have a horror for it. Shun a
woman much more than a Fish doth the hook. Remember that Solomon
amongst all women kind could not find one good. Observe by what hath
befallen those that went before you, what is approaching to your self,
if you follow their footsteps. And be most certainly assured that the
acutest pens are not able to expound the light & feasiblest troubles
and disasters of marriage, set then aside the most difficile and
ponderous. Do but read with a special observation the insuing Letter
of a Friends advice touching marriage; imprint it as with a Seal upon
your heart; and lay fast hold upon that golden expression of the
glorious Apostle, _It is good for man not to touch a woman._
THE END OF THE TEN PLEASURES OF MARRIAGE.
* * * * *
A LETTER
From one Friend to another,
_Desiring to know whether it be advisable to marry._
_SIR,_
I must acknowledge that the Letter which you have writ me hath given
me some incumbrance, and made me more then three times to ruminate
upon the question you propounded to me concerning Marriage; for it is
a matter of great importance, that ought to be well pondered and
considered of, before one should adventure to solemnize & celebrate
it. Several of my familiar friends have troubled me touching the very
same subject, and I gave them every one my advice according as they
were affected; but me-thinks I ought not to deal so loose and
unboundedly with you, by reason I dare speak unto you with more
freedom and truth. First, there are two things which bind me strictly
to you, Nature and the Affection; and moreover the great knowledge I
have of this so necessary an evil. I will tell you my opinion, then
you may use your own discretion, whether you will approve of my
meaning for advice or not. For my part, I beleeve that of all the
disasters we are subject to in our life time, that of Marriage takes
preference from all the rest: But for as much as it is necessary for
the multiplying the World, it is fit it should be used by such as are
not sensible of it, and can hardly judge of the consequences thereof.
Neither do I esteem any man unhappy, let whatsoever disasters there
will happen to him, if he doth not fall beyond his sence so far as to
take a Wife. Those troubles that may befall us otherwise, are alwaies
of so small a strength! that he who hath but the least magnanimity may
easily overpower them. But the Tortures of Marriage are such a
burthen, that I never saw no man, let him be as couragious as he
would, which it hath not brought under the yoke of her Tyranny. Marry
then, you shall have a thousand vexations, a thousand torments, a
thousand dissatisfactions, a thousand plagues; and in a word, a
thousand sort of repentings, which will accompany you to your Grave.
You may take or chuse what sort of a Wife you will, she'l make you
every day repent your taking of her. What cares will come then to
awake and disturb you in the middle of your rest! and the fear of some
mischance or other will feed your very spirit with a continual
trouble. For a morning-alarm you shall have the children to awaken you
out of sleep. Their lives shall hasten your death. You shall never be
at quiet till you are in your Grave. You will be pining at many
insufferable troubles, and a thousand several cogitations will be
vexing your spirits at the chargeable maintenance of your Family.
Insomuch that your very Soul will be tormented with incessant crosses,
which alwaies accompany this evil, in the very happiest marriages. So
that a Man ought in reality to confess, that he who can pass away his
daies without a Wife is the most happiest. Verily a Wife is a heavy
burthen; but especially a married one; for a Maid that is
marriageable, will do all that ever she can to hide her infirmities,
till she be tied in Wedlock to either one or other miserable wretch.
She overpowers her very nature and affections; changes her behaviour,
& covers all her evil and wicked intentions. She dissembleth her
hypocrisie, and hides her cunning subtleties. She puts away all her
bad actions, and masks all her deeds. She mollifies both her speech
and face; and to say all in one word, she puts on the face of an
Angel, till she hath found one or other whom she thinks fit to deceive
with her base tricks and actions. But having caught him under the
Slavery of this false apparition; she then turns the t'other side of
the Meddal; and draws back the curtain of her Vizards, to shew the
naked truth, which she so long had palliated, and her modesty only
forbad her to reveal: By degrees then vomiting up the venom that she
so long had harboured under her sweet hypocrisie. And then is
repenting, or the greatest understanding of no worth to you: Perhaps
you may tell me, that you have a Mistriss, who is fair, rich, young,
wise, airy, and hath the very majestical countenance of a Queen upon
her forehead; and that these are all reasons which oblige you to love
her. But I pray, consider with your self, that a fair Woman is
oftentimes tempted; a young, perillous; a rich, proud and haughty; a
wise, hypocritical; an airy, full of folly; and if she be eloquent,
she is subject to speak evilly: if she be jocund and light hearted,
she'l leave you to go to her companions, and thinks that the care of
her mind, is with you in your solitariness; and by reason she can
flatter you so well, it never grieves you. If she be open-hearted, her
freedom of spirit will appear hypocritical to you: her airiness you
will judge to be tricks that will be very troublesom to you. If she
love playing, she'l ruine you. If she be liquorish and sweet-tooth'd,
she leads your children the ready road to an Hospital. If she be a bad
Housekeeper, she lets all things run to destruction, that hath cost
you so much care and trouble to get together. If she be a finical one,
that will go rich in her apparel, she'l fill the Shopkeepers Counters
with your mony. And in this manner her lavishness, shall destroy all
your estate. To be short, let her be as she will, she shall never
bring you much profit. In good troth, I esteem very little those sort
of things, which you imagine to have a great delight in. 'Tis true, if
you take a Wife, which is ugly, poor, innocent, without either air or
spirit; that's a continual burthen to you all your life time. The old
are commonly despised; the ugly abhor'd; the poor slighted; and the
innocent laught at. They are called beasts that have no ingenuity: and
women without airiness, have generally but small sence of love. In
these last some body might say to you, that one ought to take of them
that are indifferently or reasonably well qualified. But I will surge
a little higher, and tell you plainly, that that will be just like one
who fearing to drown himself at the brinks of a River, goeth into the
middle, to be the higher above water. You see now, why I cannot advise
you to marry. Yet I would not have you to beleeve, tho I so much
discommend it, that it is no waies usefully profitable. I esteem it to
be a holy institution ordained by God Almighty. That which makes it
bad is the woman, in whom there is no good. If you will marry, you
must then conclude never to be any thing for your self again; but to
subject your self to the toilsom will and desires of a Wife, most
difficult to be born with; to pass by all her deficiences; to assist
her infirmities; to satisfie her insatiable desires; to approve of all
her pleasures, & whatsoever she also will you must condescend to. Now
you have heard and understood all my reasons and arguments, you may
then tell me, that you have a fine estate, and that you would
willingly see an heir of your own that might possess it; and that it
would be one of your greatest delights, to see your own honour and
vertues survive in your children. But as to that I'l answer you, and
say, that your reward shall be greater in relieving the poor and
needy; then to leave rich remembrances to Heirs; and procure you an
everlasting blessing, that you might otherwise leave for a prey to
your children; who it may be are so bastardized in their birth, that
they are both Spendthrifts and Vagabonds; for it happens oft that good
trees do not alwaies bring forth good fruit. If, when you have
seriously perused this my Letter, you are not affrighted at your
intention; marry: but if you take it indifferently; marry not. And
beleeve me, that a man who is free from the troubles & vexations of
marriage, is much happier and hath more content to himself in one day,
then another in the whole scope of his Wedlock. And what's more, a
single man may freely and resolutely undertake all things, to Travel,
go to battell, be solitary, & live according to his own delight;
without fearing that at his death he shall leave a Widow and
Fatherless children, who must be delivered over to the Fates, for
their friends will never look after them. Hitherto I have kept you up,
concerning your intention; and further I give you no other advice,
then what by your self you may take to your self. If you marry, you do
well: but not marrying, you do better. And if you will incline to me,
rather then to marry, you shall alwaies find me to be
SIR
_Your very humble servant_
A.B.
* * * * *
THE
CONFESSION
OF THE
NEW MARRIED COUPLE.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE CONFESSION OF THE NEWLY MARRIED COUPLE
LONDON,
PRINTED in the JEAR 1683.
_Published by The Navarre Society, London._]
THE
CONFESSION
OF THE
NEW MARRIED COUPLE,
Being
The Second Part of the Ten Pleasures of Marriage.
Relating
_The further delights and contentments that
ly masked under the bands of Wedlock._
Written by _A. Marsh._ Typogr.
[Illustration]
LONDON,
Printed in the year 1683.
* * * * *
TO THE READER.
Courteous Reader,
_Thy kind acceptance of the First Part, hath incouraged me to go
forward with a Second, which I here present thee with; being now
indifferently confident that it will be no worse used by Thee then the
Brother of it was: I hope there is never a Part of it, in which thou
wilt not find somthing that will please thy Fancy: But for such as
profess to be of the zealousest sort of pe
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