Selected quad for the lemma: love_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A16771
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Pasquils mistresse: or The vvorthie and vnworthie woman VVith his description and passion of that furie, iealousie.
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Breton, Nicholas, 1545?-1626?
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1600
(1600)
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STC 3678; ESTC S104767
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14,911
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50
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would true honour crush And make her soule vnto her minde a brush And loues entirely where she takes affection Makes mans life happie in his loues direction She that is Nobly borne and Princely bredde Heauenly enclin'd and holily disposed A Sarahs spirit and a Indiths head And haue her comforts in that care enclosed That haue their rest in vertue all reposed Such an Angelicall Creature in a wife Might make a king to knowe a happie life She that doth rather loue to heare than speake And rather striues to vnderstand than teach And neuer will the bands of honour breake Nor euer seeke to clime aboue her reach Nor in her thoughts let folly make a breach Such a wise wench in true wits wealthinesse Will make a man finde his lifes happinesse Shee that will rather a defect amend Then to defend or any way excuse Nor coine a lie nor an vntrueth defend Nor from a friend a good aduise refuse Nor the true honour of her loue abuse Nor hath that blame that worthily may blot her Makes the man happy for a wife hath got her She that will weare according to her calling Such decent garments as she may maintaine And will not in her busbands eare be bawling To feede her humour with an idle vaine And make his purse beyond his penny straine Such a kinde wench that so her will doth cary Doth make him happy that doth liue to marry She that can goe to market for her meate And not stay twatling there with good wife Twat Come home and dresse it and can kindly eate That which God sendes and be content with that And take the leane together with the fat Know when to be a spender when a sauer Wil make a poore man happy that could haue her She that doth weare but her owne proper heare And hath no beautie but of Natures blisse Can not commaund a kinde of fained teare But when iust cause of hearty sorrowe is And rich or poore will neuer runne amisse Such a true wench to make a happie wife Would make a man to leade a blessed life She that doth beare the eye of modestie The face of grace minde of humilitie The tongue of trueth the heart of honesty The parentage of true Gentilitie In the true notes of true Nobilitie In my conceit would surely prooue a wife To make a Lord to lead a happie life She that is full of liberalitie And to the begger neuer shuts her doore And loues to keepe good hospitalitie And hath delight for to relieue the poore Yet hath a care for to enrich her store Doth make a man a very happie Creature That marries with a wench of such a Nature She that doth hate to brabble brawle and scolde To sweare and lie and talke of Robin Hood And will no longer any question holde Then while she wel may make her iudgemeÌ„t good To prooue that shee her selfe hath vnderstood Such a rare wench for a well gouernd wit Wold make him happy that were matcht with it She that is free from infamies deface Wealthie in lands her Cophers full of golde Her minde of vertue and her heart of grace And doth no honour but in vertue holde That true sweete Ladie be she young or olde Will make that man to leade a happie life That knowes what makes man happy in a wife Shee that is mistresse of her owne affection And vnto reason hath subdued her will And will not harken vnto imperfection To leaue the good to entertaine the ill In the true rules of my experience skill I thinke that woman where she is a wife Doth make a man to know a happy life Shee that in wealth and wo sicknes and health Is all alike vnto her setled loue And in the world doth count her chiefest wealth But in the life but of her turtle doue And seekes on earth no other heauens to proue In my conceit who had her to a wife Had no small means to make a happy life She that is wholly giuen to godlynesse And hates to leade the life of wantonnesse And hath true patience in vnhappinesse And onely seekes the spirits wealthinesse In the true weight of honours worthinesse If that a man were in hearts heauinesse With such a wife might liue in blessednesse Now hoping that although the birde be rare The Phoenix in a woman may be found And doubting not but many women are Of their good husbands happinesse the ground I wish the wise a womans worth to sound And deerely loue her for that worthinesse That makes a man to liue in happinesse But if that Youth for wealth wil match with Age And witlesse age will dote on wanton Youth If discontent doe growe to rancors rage When hollow hearts do hammer with vntruthe If ruine then be subiect vnto ruthe What shall I say but sobbe for such a woing Where kindnesse hath no coÌ„fort in the doing Make then thy choyce not all alone by chaunce Let reason guide thine eye honour thy minde Vertue thy heart and so thy thought aduance That wisdomes care may happie comfort finde That if that fortune fall to be vnkinde Yet heauenly loue that doth the life reioyce Will make thee happie in a heauenly choyce If thou canst get thee wealth then doe not want But chiefely take good heed thou want not grace For gratious spirits in the world are skant And conscience liues in such a pittious case That faith on earth can hardly shewe her face And simple loue alas without some liuing Is like a present hardly worth the giuing And therefore leauing each one to their lot To like to loue and liue as likes them best To keepe their choyce or if it like them not When as they feele their spirits most opprest To vse their best discretion for their Rest I wish good husbands all to haue good wiues And all good louing wenches all good liues So hoping that the best will be content To know the worst must haue a time to mend Who haue bin ill may haue a good intent To bring bad humours to a better end Vnto your kindnesse kindly I commend Pasquils mad humour to describe a woman Fit to be lou'd of all or lik't of no man FINIS ⧠PASQVILS DESCRIPTION OF HIS Mistresse with a passion vpon the Ielousie of her match MY sweete Muse beholde a creature Of the world the sweetest feature Garnisht with those inward graces That adorne the fairest faces Which described in their essence Shew the earth a heauenly presence Haires no haires but golden wires Binding life in loues desires Eyes no eyes but starry glories Reasons states and honours stories Cheekes enchaining hearts beholding Lippes maintaining loues vnfolding Necke no necke but alablaster Natures mistresse Reasons master Breasts not breasts but beauties mouÌ„tains Of Mineâ—uas milke the fountaines Armes embracing loues deseruing Hands vnlacing loues preseruing Belly no but Venus bedding All too faire for Vulcans wedding Nauell not but Natures signet All the graces grau'n within it For the secret sweete
of reason Careful thoughts must speak no treason Thighes no thighes but beauties pillers Made for beauties best welwillers Knees not knees but Pallaes bending While Diana was commending Legs no legs but honours passage To the life of louers message Feete no feete but fauours staying Where no fauours are decaying Toes not toes but each a token Of more trueth then may be spoken That in all for much perfection Natures draught by loues direction This faire creature wonder-woman Scene to few and knowne to no man By those heauenly powers created That haue hellish humours hated While the Angels all were sleeping Fell to cursed creatures keeping Cursed creatures carnall diuels Hates of good and grounds of euils Wronging vertue killing reason Vowing trueth but working treason These oh these by loues illusion Wrought the course of my confusion Hatefull course in heart concealed But by hell to be reuealed In wich briefely is contained Neuer eased euer pained In which cruell cares termented Liues my comfort discontented Pittie weepes to see this wonder Loue and vertue liue asunder Honour sigheth without ceasing To beholde this hell increasing And the heart of loue is dying While he heares his darling crying Oh how is the soule agrieued Where no sorrowes are relieued And where crosses are so many Nor the comforts can be any Thinke if this be hell mistaken So of heauenly hopes forsaken But oh wicked wretched freâ—nzy That hast so corrupted fancy Helplesse hopelesse matchlesse shamelesse Dost thou thinke thou shalt be namelesse No the world shall knowe thine euill Ielouzie thou art the diuell This is that same inward treason That hath so confounded reason This is that same hellish humour Fils the world so full of rumour This is it that kils the louer That he neuer can recouer This is that same hellish fiende That was neuer vertues friend This is that same foolish blindnesse That confoundeth louers kindnesse This is it by proofe of many Neuer yet did good to any Then on thee and thy possessor Wilfull follies plaine professor That hast so my mistresse wronged And her helplesse woes prolonged Fall the curse of loues confusion By the death of loues illusion A description of Ielousie VVIthin the hart ther breeds a kind of thought Begotten as some gesse it by the eye But I doe rather thinke it to be wrought By a blinde sight that euer lookes awry And only feedes but of a Lunacy Which being gotten kindly in the head Workes a weake wit to bring a foole to bed It thinks it knowes not what nor how nor why But once perswaded t will not beremooued Cares for no trueth belieueth euery lye That hath apparance though it be not prooued Loues but in feare and feares it is not loued Frets chafes and grieues and neuer is at rest Because the worst doth euer doubt the best It workes and watches pries and peeres about Takes counsell staies yet goes on with intent Bringes in one humour puts another out And findes out nothing but all discontent And keepes the spirit still so passion-rent That in the world if that there be a hell Aske but in loue what ielousie can tell It would haue more then all it doth possesse And turnes content vnto a crosse conceite It brings discretion but into distresse Where feare doth onely but on folly waite While doubts do only dwell vpon deceite It doth abuse the wit distract the minde And knows not what to seeke nor how to finde It doth amaze the eye enchaunt the eare And wholie kils the stomackes appetite With spightfull thoughts it doth the spirit teare And keepes poore patience in a pitious plight While darke suspicion makes the day a night It is in summe a very hellish fiende That neuer yet was loue nor beauties friend It is a plague that Nature was ordained In beauties eie to wounde the heart of loue An inward poyson that hath throughly vain'd The haplesse wit that workes for wils behoue To make a Iacke Dawe of a turtle Doue Where best contentmeÌ„ts are too much abused While wilfull follies can not be excused It is the death of ioy twixt man and wife Where loue is too much loaden with mistrust It makes the maide to feare the married life Least firmest faith should fall to be vniust It beats the braine and grindes the wit to dust It makes the wise a foole the wealthie poore And her that wold kepe house to ope the dore Oh t is a childe of an vnhappie choyce Nurst by the milke of an ilfauour'd beast Which neuer suffers reason to reioyce But keepes the heart within an Hornets neast Which nought but venome bring into the breast It is in summe a kinde of secret ill That neuer yet did good nor euer will How it hath handled many a haplesse heart Let them describe it that do better knowe it But how it workes the sowles continuall smart He that is able let him truely showe it Or seeke by all meanes how he may forgoe it But for my selfe I say no more but this God blesse me from it and my misteris And such as will be madde let them be so Who cannot iudge of good conceiue it ill He that will take a finger for a toe Must either blame his wit or else his will That knowes his folly and will be so still Who will be ledde but onely by illusion Must be content to fall vpon confusion And thus my friend what so thou be that readest These fewe inuectiue lines of Iealousie Hoping that thou thy fancie better feedest Then with the aspen leaues of Lunacy Whose iuyce giues nothing but inconstancie I wish thy loue more kindly to be borne Or for thy iealous head a huge great horne What art thou angry are thy ribbes so gaid They cannot bide the chinking of a spurre Be still a while and be not so appald A thousand gownes are surd with Cony furre Euery one 's not dead that hath the Murre Loueâ—s may looke and laugh and happ'ly like But many a one may frowne that wil not strike Because her eye is faire shall thine be fowle Because that she is wise wilt thou be fond Because that thee doth smile must thou needs scoule Because that she is free wilt thou be bod Oh make not to a puddle of a pond Be pleâ—sd to thinke of euery thing the best Fâ—r Ielousie is but an idle iest Mistrust doth argue but a misconceit Suspiâ—ion sâ—â—ewhat in thy selfe amisse Doubt but a dreaming only on deceite Feare but a curse where neuer fell a blisse Tush smile and laugh emâ—â—ace and coll kisse And thou shalt liue as merry as a cricket While Iealousie shall stand without the wicket FINIS