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WOM

We to their flaves are humble flaves, whilft they
Command our lords, and rule what we obey:
Their loves each day new kindneffes uphold,
We get but little, and that little cold;
That a poor wife is with her ftate reproach'd,
And to be marry'd, is to be debauch'd.

WOMEN.

It is thought wonderful

Crown's Califle.

Among the feamen, that mugill, of all
Fishes the swifteft, is found in the belly
Of the bret, of all, the floweft: and fhall
It not feem monftrous to wife men, that the
Heart of the greateft conqu'ror of the world,
Should be found in the hands of the weakest
Creature of nature? of a woman! of
A captive! Ermines have fair skins, but foul
Livers; fepulchers fresh colours, but rotten
Bones; women fair faces, but false hearts.

Lilly's Alexander and Campafpe.
Mens due deferts each reader may recite,
For men of men do make a goodly fhew,
But womens works can never come to light;

No mortal man their famous acts may know;
No writer will a little time bestow,

The worthy acts of women to repeat;
Though their renown and due deferts be great.
Mirror for Magiftrates.
1. You're pictures out of doors,

Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,

Players iu your housewifry, and housewives in your beds!

2. O, fie upon thee, flanderer!

1. Nay, it is true, or e!fe I am a Turk ; You rife to play, and go to bed to work,

Shakespear's Othello,

If fhe be black, and thereto have a wit,
She'll find a white that fhall her blackness fit.

Shakespear's Othello.
There's none fo foul and foolish thereunto,
But does foul pranks, which fair and wife ones do.

A woman fometimes fcorns what beft contents her;
Send her another, never give her o'er;
For fcorn at firft, makes after love the more:
If fhe do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If the do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why, the fools are mad, if left alone:
Take no repulfe, whatever she doth say;
For, get you gone, fhe doth not mean away:
Flatter, and praife, commend, extol their graces;
Tho' ne'er fo black, fay they have angel's faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I fay is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

Ibid.

Shakespear's Two Gentlemen of Verona.

One woman reads another's character,
Without the tedious trouble of decyphering.

Johnson's New Inn.

He that holds religious and facred thoughts
Of a woman; he that bears fo reverend
A respect to her, that he will not touch
Her, but with a kifs'd hand and a timerous
Heart; he that adores her like his goddefs,
Let him be fure, fhe'll fhun him like her flave.
Alas! good fouls, women of themselves are
Tractable and tractable enough, and
Would return quid for quod ftill, but we are
They that spoil them, and we shall answer for't
Another day; we are they that put a
Kind of wanton melancholly into them,
That makes them think their noses bigger than
Their faces, greater than the fun in brightness;
0.2

And

And whereas nature made them but half fools,
We make them all fools.

Chapman's May Day.

Trust women! ah Myrtillus, rather truft

The fummer's winds, th' ocean's conftancy;
For all their substance is but levity:

Light are their wav'ring veils, light their attires,
Light are their heads, and lighter their defires:
Let them lay on what coverture they will
Upon themselves, of modefty and fhame,
They cannot hide the woman with the fame.
Truft women! ah Myrtillus, rather trust
The falfe devouring crocodile of Nile,
For all they work is but deceit and guile:
What have they but is feign'd? their hair is feign'd,
Their beauty feign'd, their ftature feign'd, their pace,
Their gefture, motion, and their grace is feign'd:
And if that all be feign'd without, what then
Shall we fuppofe can be fincere within ?
For if they do but weep, or fing, or fmile,
Smiles, tears, and tunes, are engines to beguile;
And all they are, and all they have of grace,
Confifts but in the outfide of a face.

Daniel's Arcadia.

But how durft he of one the glory raife,

Where two contemn'd would needs the wrong repair?

It fpites our fex, to hear another's praise;

Of which, each one would be thought only fair.

Earl of Sterline's Julius Cæfar.

A woman's hate is ever dipp'd in blood,
And doth exile all councils that be good.

Lord Brooke's Alabam,

Alas, fair princefs! those that are strongly form'd,
And truly fhap'd, may naked walk; but we,
We things call'd women, only made for fhew
And pleasure, created to bear children,
And play at shuttle-cock; we imperfect mixtures,
Without refpective ceremony us'd,

And

And ever compliment, alas, what are we?
Take from us formal custom, and the courtefies
Which civil fashion hath ftill us'd to us,
We fall to all contempt. O women! how much,
How much are you beholden to ceremony?

If fhe be a, virgin of a modeft

Marfion's Sophonisba.

Eye, fhame fac'd, temp'rate afpect, her very
Modelty inflames me, her fober blushes
Fire me: If I behold a wanton, pretty,
Courtly, petulant ape, I am extreamly

In love with her, because she is not clownifhly rude,
And that the affures her lover of no
Ignorant, dull, moving Venus: Be the
Sow'rly fevere, I think the wittily counterfeits,
And I love her for her wit: If the be
Learned and cenfures poets, I love her foul,
And for her foul, her body: Be fhe a
Lady of profeft ignorance, oh I am
Infinitely taken with her fimplicity;
I'm affur'd to find no fophiftication
About her! Be fhe flender and lean, fhe's
The Greek's delight: Be the thin and plump, the's
Th' Italian's pleafure: If fhe be tall, fhe's
Of a goodly form, and will print a fair
Proportion in a large bed: If fhe be
Short and low, fhe's nimbly delightful,
And ordinarily quick witted: Be the young,
She's for mine eye: Be fhe old, fhe's for my
Difcourfe, as one well knowing there is much
Amiableness in a grave matron: But be

She young, or old, lean, fat, fhort, tall, white, red,
Brown, nay even black, my difcourfe fhall find.
Reason to love her, if my means may procure
Opportunity to enjoy her.

Marfton's Fawn.

But when that fex leave vertue to esteem,

Thofe greatly err, which think them what they feem.

'Their

Their plighted faith, they at their pleasure leave,
Their love is cold, but hot as fire their hate;
On whom they fmile, they furely those deceive;
In their defires, they be infatiate:
Them of their will, there's nothing can bereave,
Their anger hath no bound, revenge no date:
They lay by fear, when they at ruin aim,
They fhun not fin, as little weigh they shame.

Drayton's Barons Wars.
To dote on weakness, flime, corruption, woman!
What is fhe, took afunder from her cloaths?
Being ready, the confifts of hundred pieces,
Much like your German clock, and near ally'd;
Both are fo nice, they cannot go for pride:
Befide a greater fault, but too well known,
'They'll ftrike to ten, when they fhould ftop at one.
Middleton's Mad World
my Mafters
When there comes a restraint upon flesh, we
Are always moft greedy upon't; and that
Makes your merchant's wife often times pay fo
Dear for a mouthful: give me a woman
As fhe was made at firit, fimple of herfelf,
Without fophiftication, like this wench:
I cannot abide them, when they have tricks,
Set fpeeches, and artful entertainments:
You shall have fome fo impudently aspected,
They will out-cry the forehead of a man,
Make him blufh firft, and talk him into filence;
And this is counted manly in a woman;
It may hold fo, fure womanly it is not: no,
If e'er I love, or any thing move me,
'Twill be a woman's fimple modefty.

Oh hapless creatures!

There is in woman a devil from her birth;
Of bad ones we have fhoals, of good a dearth.

Ibid.

Dekkers Match me in London.

She

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