A dyall for dainty darlings, rockt in the cradle of securitie A glasse for all disobedient sonnes to looke in. A myrrour for vertuous maydes. A booke right excellent, garnished with many woorthy examples, and learned aucthorities, most needefull for this tyme present. Compiled by VV. Auerell, Student in Diuinitie, and Schoolemaister in London.

❧ The rare vertue of a Maiden, and the singular discrecion of a young man, the one in her good and godlie gouernment, the other in his wise and prudent choise of his Wife. An excellent example to all Maidens, how they should exercise their golden tyme: and a perfect platforme to young men, not to runne rashlie to the bayte of theyr pleasures, least they be caught in the hooke of follie, to their owne harme and hinderaunce. (Book 3)

IN no one action that per∣taineth to the life of man, ought there to be so great care, studie, or foresight, as in the choise or election of a Wife, because that therein consysteth, eyther the pleasure or paine, the gaine or gréefe, of him that endeuoureth to enter that state of lyfe, nei∣ther may the same once taken in hand and accomplished, be reuoked, except by the disso∣lution of that bonde, the destruction (or at least the conti∣nuall gréefe) of eyther part be procured: And therefore, as he that betaketh himselfe to the Seas, must abyde the stormes or tempest: or he that entereth warres sustaine of lyfe the daunger, without reuersion, tyll fortune finishe theyr trouble in bringing a happie ende to theyr taken enterprise: So, who so attempteth marriage without ad∣uisement, running rashlie vpon the reckes of theyr owne ruine, and entring the combersome conflict of cares, where the gunshotte of calamitie shall batter theyr braines, and the assaultes of sorrowes ouer maister theyr mindes, such

must patientlie beare the brunt of theyr owne breeding, abiding the bitter blastes of vnquiet brawling, tyll death make a deuision of theyr fortunes, by disioynting of theyr bodies, conglutinate together by the free consent of theyr headdy mindes: To auoiding therefore of such daungers, as maye be the vnsauorie sance of the whole life, it beho∣ueth eche wise man to enter the garden of discretion, there to picke out the purest hearbes of wisedome, which maye serue him as preseruatiues of knowledge, before choyse to make right election, or as plaisters of remedie in choyse to heale the heart with contentation.

And that example of right choosing, might appeare vnto those vnskilfull in choosing, whose tender yeeres, or hastie heades driueth foreward theyr posting mindes, to experi∣ence of marriage, before wisdome haue taught them what it meaneth: I haue bréefely, though bluntlie layde a plat∣forme thereof, in the consequent that followeth vnto their open construction.

There was sometime a ritch man, of great possessions, of large reuenewes and ample substance, hauing a sonne, whose wisedome surpassed his fathers wealth, whose rea∣son, his ritchesse, and whose good gouernement, his fathers hereditament: so that if the Father were fortunate in his wealth, yet his good happe succeeded in his heyre, which more adorned the lyfe of his Father by his vertue, then the same was garnished by his treasure, so that if the same were luckie by the inheritaunce of the Father, yet was the Father more renowmed by the vertue of his sonne: a great contrarietie in the giftes of fortune, for as much as where she cōmonly giueth wealth, there she withdraweth wisdome, where she yeeldeth vsually beauty, there she wi••∣dome placeth continencie, and where for the most part, she lendeth strength, there many times she withholdeth humilitie, yet héere it pleased her to bestowe both the one and the other, as a large mystrisse of her heauenly gifts.

But as the vnchast minde is neuer satisfied, nor the drie ground neuer suffised, so is the minde of the ritch and co∣uetous neuer contented, but that he daily contriueth how to encrease his stocke plentifullie, how to marry his chyl∣dren wealthily, and how to aduaunce his kindred ritchly, as this Father, that albeit his owne landes and substance were sufficient, to the maintenaunce of his successiue heire, yet his musing minde continually compassed, howe to accuimulate and heape vp riches for his sonne, by in∣sinuating this braunch of his body, into the stocke of some noble kindred of affinitie, rather regarding the vallour of the presence, then the vertues of the personage, more estéeming the wealth, then the wisdome, the dowrie, then the déeds, the ritches, then the renowne: and hauing espi∣ed a match meete to his minde, for mucke, though not measured at the meatwand of wisdome, for womanhead, namely, the daughter of a ritch Knight, whose pulchritude so pleasaunt, whose beautie vnblemisht, whose feature well framed, but chéefelie, whose dowrie delightfull, he thought might content as well the fantasie of his sonne, as it lyked his couetous appetite: brake therefore vppon a tyme with his sonne, as concerning the same, laying fyrst the beautie of her bodie, as a baite to allure him, and afterward her treasure, as a trap to traine him.

But hee, whose wisedome ouerwaide his Fathers gréedie will, considered that the sweetest Cedar in smell, is bitter in sent, that the fayrest fruite in touch, is not the best in taste, that the goodliest Oke in sight, is not most sound and safe, nor the ritchest state, on vertue chéefest stayed.

But that the Spider may lurke in the Rose, the rot∣ten woorme in the fayre fruite, the stinging Adder in the gréene grasse, and heapes of vice in high Estate. And therefore discretelie aunswered his Father, that as due∣tie dyd driue him to esteeme his good will, so reason

reuokt•• him from his vnséemelie choise, which his fancie grounded on vertue misliked, for that he sawe not in her actions, the things that might drawe his déere affections. And albeit she were endowed with temporall treasure, concordaunt to her corporall beautie, yet vertue being a habite of the hidden minde, appeared not in her externall déedes, the valure whereof, he estéemed aboue the masse of mouldred muck, for as much as it so farre excéeded wealth, as the minde surpasseth the body, and as the superior ele∣ment, the inferior creature.

But as the Mole, vnto whome the whole meddowe is scarcelie sufficient, rooting vp euerie furrowe of the féeld, to satisfie her gréedie nature, therein destroying the earth, hindering the owner of the grounde, and lyttle profiting her selfe, except in contenting her wastfull minde. So this couetous father, not content with aboundaunce, ha∣uing his minde as much vppon gathering money, as the Mole in rooting the meddowe, increasing his ritches per∣aduenture by the decay of others, hauing no profite there∣by, except in beholding the same, to suffise his couetous hart: was incensed against his sonne, in that he condiscen∣ded not, to the conclusion of his choise which he had made, as much and more to the pleasure of himselfe, then the af∣fection of his sonne, considering he had determined the same with the father of the Maiden, the consent of the vir∣gin, but most especiallie, the agréement of her dowrie, the quantitie whereof so tickled his hoording heart, that vppon the refusall thereof, he cast his sonne out of his fa∣uour, willing him to auoide his sight, with most bytter threates of his displeasure, losse of his heredetaments, but chéefelie, the lacke of his blessing.

Yet this sober youth, giuing place to the passions of his Father, and ouercomming his anger with quiet suffe∣raunce, knewe that though the impatience of his Father, was for a time somewhat troublesome, yet time might

both appease the same, and yéeld better fortune vnto him, that his Fathers couetous minde did wishe.

He well remembred that the herbe Scamone, although it be venemous, yet it purgeth coller, though Southern∣woodde be vnsauorie, yet it expelleth venime, and though Rew be bitter, yet it cleanseth the braine, cleareth the sight, purgeth fleame, and bringeth many commodities to the body: So thought he, that albeit the auoyding of this match, and the abiding of this brunt be bitter, yet fu∣ture profite, may repaye the same with double pleasure, and therfore to auoide the coller of his Father, to dissipate and make voide the deuise of his braine, and to accommo∣date vnto himselfe some better fortune, he fled the sight of his aged Syre.

And tracing his iourney through many a wilde wilder∣nesse, walking through vnknowne woods, vncouth pathes and wearie wayes: the Sunne withdrawing his lyght∣some beames, and the night approching with his duskishe clowdes, he declined into the house of an aged man, to rest himselfe after his taken trauaile.

And entring into the doores thereof, he found the daugh∣ter of the olde man (being his onely childe) with lyfted handes, bended knées, and open mouth, yéelding prayse vnto the Lord, for his great benefites bestowed vpon her, and making her prayers vnto him from the bottome of her heart, to graunt her his grace to liue in his feare, to the reuerence of her Father, the discharge of her duetie, and the quiet contentation of her owne conscience. A woorthy president to fire before the face of all modest Mai∣dens: shée was not héere occupied, neither in trimming her head, in glaring in the glasse, in fingering her Lute, in singing of Sonnets, in denising of Letters, in daunsing with her Louers, nor in any such lewde and vnséemelie pastimes, but like a chaste Virgin, a milde Maiden, and a good Christian, was occupied in heauenly contemplation.

This routh musing at the rare exercise, and no lesse ad∣myring at the godly praiers, stepped vnto her with fréend∣lie salutations, requesting to know whether these diuine orations, were her continuall study and frequentations, and considering her pouertie (which appeared in outward showe) how and for what cause she yéelded such thankes vnto God, for great receyued benefites.

The Maiden méekely beholding him a while, although at first abashed with his suddaine sight, yet at last, she wiselie and discretelie framed vnto him this aunswere. Syr, I see you meruaile, that my pouertie should not be an obstacle to my prayers, for as much as to your iudge∣ment, it conteineth few worldly benefites: consider with your selfe, that as a simple medicine, dooth more often cure great diseases, then large compoundes curiously framed: so pouertie, though in apparaunce simple, yet to a conten∣ted minde, the very schoolemaister of vertue, and the per∣fect path vnto perpetual pleasure, more excellent to y^e god∣lie, then the glistring state of golden ritches, which though in outward appearance it séem glorious, yet is it the hooke of hurtfull securitie, couered with the baite of worldly fe∣licitie, a log to vertuous life, a stop to quiet state, and the verie blocke, whereby worldlinges stumble into the pric∣king perils of choking cares. And although I am not in∣dewed with aboundaunce of worldly treasures, yet doo I thinke that the Lord hath left vnto me great ritches, in as much as he hath graunted me the onely company of my a∣ged Syre, vnto whome (as in youth) he shewed me loue, so in age I may yéeld good will, being vnto him in age a staffe, that was to me in youth a staye. And thinke you good Syr (quoth she) that I haue receiued but small bene∣fites at the hands of God, who hath made me a reasonable creature, that might haue made me a sencelesse thing by nature, who hath giuen to me a soule, that might haue cō∣stituted me onely of a body: who hath made me a christiā, that might haue made me an infidel, redéeming me by his

blood, that might haue perished in mine owne, & sanctify∣ing me by his spirite, that might haue béen possessed by the enimie: These caused considered, I doo twise euerie day make my praiers vnto y^e Lord for my soule, as I doo twise euerie day féed my body, lest if I should cherish my body, & not nourish my soule, the one might grow disdainful, and the other sinfull, and if I should not thus repay him with thankes, that hath fed me with benefits, I might appeare more vngratefull to him for his mercies, then he benefi∣ciall for mine vndeseruinges.

O myrror of maidenhood, O glasse of true virginitie, O mind endued with modesty, O hart fraught with true hu∣mility: Sée héere you gadding girles, that gape after euery gaude, and prease after ech peeuishe pastime, you that can daunce with the daintiest, smile with the smothest, & laugh with the leudest, you that wāder to weddings, thrust in at Theaters, & trip into Tauerns, you that take more care to trick your bodies to the pleasure of men, then to deck your soules to the will of God, you that had rather spend two houres at y^e glasse, then a minute at the bible, taking more delight to vew your faces, then to behold your consciences, rather hardning your héels with daūcing, then your knées with praying. Behold the exercise of this virgin, note her life, and follow her example, begin in vertue, & end in the same, be not like a number of foolish damselles that begin hotlie, after a while are luke warme, but in the end stark cold: like to the monster Chimera, whose vpper part was a Lion, whose midle a Gote, but her neather part a Ser∣pent. Be not like to the Jewes that bowed theyr knees vnto Christ, and yet buffeted him in the face, neither him that prayseth a man now, and yet slandereth him by & by after: folow not the example of the vsurer, who on the one side prayeth, and on the other side notwithstanding taketh vsurie: but if you will be true prayers, and perseuerers in déede, follow this virgins example, plucke out the rustie yro•• out of your wound, before you proceede to take a

plaister, and purge your soules of corruption, that you may be healed, and perseuere.

But to returne to the sequell of this Historie. The yong man hauing impressed in his memorie, the wise and ver∣tuous aunswere of this rare and godly Virgin, thought that time thrise happy, that he directed his steppes into the doores of this olde man, and passing the tyme with her in common conference: found her wisdome such, and her go∣uernement so godly, that his affections which before were his owne, were now alyenated and estraunged from him so farre, as his whole delight was fixed how to drawe vn∣to him her good lyking, purposing not to passe any fur∣ther, tyl he had made a tryal of her good will: and although the consideration of her pouertie, might some what discou∣rage him from his pretended choyse, yet thought he, that greater ritches could not remaine in any, then the true possession of a vertuous minde, the which he found to be so aboundauntlie placed in the breast of this young Maiden, as he thought it as harde to finde her match, as to gette a blacke Swan.

By this her father (who vsually after supper, walked abroade into the féeldes) returned home, and finding a guest in his house more then either he knew or expected, was not a little abashed, for as much as through the suspi∣tion of his pouertie, his poore cottage was but smally fre∣quented, yet being wise and well acquainted with cour∣tesie, bade him welcome: vnto whome this young man, after humble thankes for his good entertainement, reque∣sted of him that he might but finde so much fréendship at his handes, as for his money to tarry and refresh himselfe in his house, tyll he were more apt and able to passe foorth the rest of his vnknowne iorney.

Vnknowne iorney (quoth the old man) why, are you out of your way good Sir (sayth he) or know you not the name of the place wherevnto you are bent, eyther haue you for∣gotten

the same, or dyd you neuer héeretofore trauaile this wayes.

Good father (sayth the yong man) for so both your age and state requireth, I am not out of my way, but rather in the same, & thrise happy doo I thinke my selfe, that fortune gui∣ged me into this pathe: the name of this place I neuer knew, and therefore haue I not forgotten the same, neither did I euer before trauaile this way, but I so bide mine vn∣knowne iorney, in as much as I am ignoraunt, whether it will please you to graunt me abyding within the compasse of your cottage, which if you doo, then is not my iorney vn∣knowne, but at an end, for as much as since my arriuall at your house, I haue found the place, which I hope fortune decréede I should atchieue.

Gentleman (quoth the old man) what good happe is that, that you harpe on so much, that hath guided you hither, I know not, but if you shall receyue any good by the meanes of your comming hyther, I shalbe right glad of the same, as for the vse of my poore cottage, although it be but simple, & not woorthy your entertainement: yet least I should séeme to deny you the same, vse both it and me I beséech you at your pleasure, taking such fare as you finde and see, agrée∣able to my poore state and calling.

Good father (quoth the other) the good I haue got, and the lucky hap I haue had since my comming, I shall in time to come (I hope) make knowne vnto you, in the meane while, I am to yéeld you most harty thanks, that being a stranger altogether in these parts, you haue notwithstāding deined to proffer me such courtesie, as greater can I not find amōg my best acquaintaunce, and as for your fare, were it neuer so simple, if I should mislike the same, procéeding from a franke and willing heart, I might be counted an yl guest, that would estéeme more of the meat then the man or more of your fare then of your faithfull hart, I account the dwel∣ling good, that is not daungerous, and the chéere great that is willingly bestowed.

Gentleman (sayth the olde man) the good behauiour and

courtesse that I sée apparaunt in your outward habite, ma∣keth me to iudge therby, the maners of your inward mind, and therefore your none acquaintaunce, is quitted by your modest demeanor, for vertue maketh a straunger vnto eue∣rie wise man a familliar, neyther haue I euer séene that young man héeretofore, vnto whome mine eye, vppon so small acquaintaunce, hath drawne my heart more néerer, and therefore I & my poore cottage are to vse at your plea∣sure, tarry your time, and depart at your leysure.

Thus taried this youth in the house of this olde man, no∣ting the outward pouertie of the Father, and the inward vertue of the Daughter, no lesse musing at the one, then meruailing at the other: but especiallie, the Virgins godly gouernement, her modest manners, her words placed with wisedome, her lookes without luste, and her déedes ruled by discresion, so that it séemed vnto him, that her life was a lampe to the lende, a lantorne to the loose, and a light to the laciuious, gouerned by grace, ruled by reason, and bridled with the bytte of Gods holy word, wherein he sawe her so continually occupied, that her whole delight séemde to be placed in the meditation thereof.

On the other side, the old father marking the godly life of this young man, noting his courteous iesture, his wisdome, his humility, his sobriety, his spéeches familiarly spoken, yet wisely placed, his minde stored with myrth, yet vsed with modesty, his contentiue minde, his patient sufferaunce, his earnest praiers for his Father, though he might haue grud∣ged at his vnkindnesse. And knowing his Father, his kin∣dred and fréendes, yet more regarding his vertue, then his fortune, or any part of his hoped wealth, was wunne vnto such an inward affection towardes him, as he studied howe to bring that to passe, which the young man did most secret∣lie desyre.

Noting also, the honest and mutuall fréendship, the ver∣tuous and faithfull loue, that daylie increased in the minds of these two younglings, he thought that match could not be made a misse, where loue was the beginning, and ver∣tue

was the ende, and therefore breaking one day the mat∣ter vnto his daughter, was desyrous to know the affections of her minde, at which he aimed by y^e dispositions of her bo∣dy, and she whome simplicity had nourished with the milke of truth, hauing her face stained with the vermillion of ver∣tue, with blushing countenaunce reuealed that loue, which her outward iestures could not conceale, desiring therin the consent of her fathers mind, from whose body she had recei∣ued the substaunce of her being, shewing him that she was more drawn to loue him by the view of vertue, then any af∣fection dimmed with the vaile of vanitie, requesting him, that as he had béene a Father of her body, in giuing to her those thinges necessarie for her vse, so he would be also a go∣uernor of her life, in not denying her him wheron her ioies did rest: which the good olde man did as willingly graunt, as she did heartely desire, perswading her that as she had béen a comfortable staffe to staye vp the weight of his aged lymmes, so he would be a carefull father in prouiding her a mate agréeable to her minde, as soone as tyme would per∣mit the accomplishment of the same.

Shortly after the old father espying an apt occasion to per∣forme his promise, brake with the young man in the de∣maund of this match, requesting of him to know, how he li∣ked the rude demeanor of his daughter, and for as much as he had moued the question of mariage vnto her, of which she had certified him at large, was desyrous to know what he sawe in her, that should drawe him to lyking of so vn∣séemelie a choise, perswading him, that if he shot at wealth▪ in stéede thereof he should finde want, for as much as his state could yéeld no supplie to his necessitie, but if he aimed at vertue, he thought her able to bring him a sufficent dow∣rie, in that his study had béene, to make her therewith suffi∣cientlie endued.

The young man replied vnto him, that he gaped neither after gold nor goods, for as much as he saw by sufficient ap∣pearaunce, that there was no such gaine to be gased after, within the compasse of his cottage, but that he had found

already an inestimable treasure, in an obscure corner, the possession wherof, if it pleased him he might quietlie enioy, he acknowledged himselfe ritcher then Cressus, and his sub∣staunce more then all the golden sandes of Pactolus, or the siluer streames of Ganges, more happier in his conquest then Alexander, and farre more more fortunate then Po∣licrates.

This good old man (espying the vertuous end of this yong mans desyre, and seeing that vertue was the onely marke whereat he did Jeuell the shotte of his affections) could not any longer dissemble his hidden state, neither the good will that he bare to his vertuous minde, & therefore taking him apart into a priuie corner of his cottage, he shewed him a huge summe of gold & siluer, not gathered by his care (who was rather addicted to contemplation, then to heaping of treasure,) but bequeathed by the death of her Vncle, a man of great substaunce, who noting the hope of her vertuous heart, that shined foorth in the image of her face, deliuered to her Father to kéepe for her vse, a homelie coffer in out∣ward showe, farced within full of gold and siluer, all which (for so much as he saw, he desired not wealth, but wisdome, nor the body of his daughter, but her minde) he gaue him, calling vnto him his onely child, and ioyning theyr handes with the frée consent of theyr ioyful hearts, he blessed them, praying God, that as vertue was the beginning of theyr loue, so it might be the ende of the same, that they might liue together héere in all godlinesse and felicitie, and ende theyr dayes in peace and tranquilitie, that such issue might spring of their séede, as might be the common wealths com∣moditie, to theyr comfort and Gods glorie.

Thus liued they together in all honestie, godlinesse, and quietnesse, breaking all brawles with humilitie, & quieting euerie discorde by loue, the one not being proude through rule, the other not checking her husband for wealth, looke what he lyked, she loued, looke what he loathed, she lusted not after, in pleasure she would be his partner, in sorrowe his companion, her honest myrth was his mellody, and her

fréendly hart his harmony, in health his delight, and in sick∣nesse, his Phisitian, and in bréefe, the piller of his life, and the onely patterne of a vertuous wife.

O how many wiues haue we in our Citie, that follow not the example of this Damsell, but rather runne with maine strength the contrary way, whose liues if they were noted, would rather deserue a sharpe inuectiue, then a plausible prayse, against whome I will not inueigh, least I might be rather vniustlie accused of some of enuie, then thought to write of iudgement and experience. I will therfore strike sayle in such a tempest, rather then striuing with contrarie windes, runne against the rockes of womens venemous tongues, and so put in perill the ship of my safetie, accoun∣ting this only example sufficient to encourage the good, and to gaule the wicked, the one burning with the praise of ver∣tue, the other blushing at the want thereof.

Wherefore, let all Maidens learne by this Virgins ex∣ample, how to weare out theyr golden time of virginitie, not by spending the same in wantonnesse, wildnesse, l••se∣nesse and libertie, but in shamefastnesse, discréetnesse, chast∣nesse, and sobrietie, which as Valerius sayth, is, Custos casti∣tatis, The preseruer of chastitie. Moreouer, let them be si∣lent, not coueting by wordes rather to be séene, & so to shew their eloquence, then by shamefastnesse to declare theyr ho∣nest silence, as a number doo in these daies, who make their tongues swéete instruments, to delight the eares of trifling talkers, & count it a great gaine to florish in glorious speech, so that if nature had made them for that vse, I thinke some of them would prooue gallaunt Orators to pleade, and as sutle Sophisters to deceyue.

Let them learne also to kéepe theyr féete from gadding, and to exercise themselues at home in vertuous dooing, of which, the one will blotte theyr good name with infamie, but the other adorne theyr life with glorie.

This Maidens modesty may be theyr myrror, and her go∣uernment a glasse for theyr behauior, how to consume their time in godlinesse and praier, and to bridle theyr loose affec∣tions

from vicious demeanor, whose example if they immi∣tate, they shall finde more faithfull louers of theyr vertue, then foolishe doters on theyr beautie, more suters for theyr honestie, then lykers of theyr braucrie: and aboue all, they shall be sure that God will prouide them such husbands, as shall be trusty louers, and honest lyuers.

But for so much as I promised in the Exordium of this hi∣storie, to set downe somewhat, whereby the vnskilful youth may be warned, how to make a right choise in the chosing of a Wife, or hauing chosen, how theyr life may be spent in quietnes, I wil bréefly performe it, and so drawe to an end.

Chrysostome, perswadeth him that will marrie, to cen∣sider* 1.1 whether the Parentes be both good, or both euill, or whether the one be good, and the other euill: if they be both good, then may he safely make choise of her, if both euill, then to refuse her: if the one be good, & the other euill, then may he be doubtfull what to doo: yet if the Father be good, and the mother dishonest, vnquiet, or without gouernment, he ought rather to feare, then contrariwise: and the reason is, because Maidens haue béene more accustomed to be con∣uersaunt with theyr Mothers, then with theyr Fathers: and therfore more inclined to follow their manners, wher∣vpon rose the prouerbe, Qualis mater talis filia, Such a mo∣her, such a daughter.

But especially let him beware that intendeth to marrie, that these things concurre and méete together, namely, that in theyr states there be an equallitie, for where there is no equallitie of condition, there can be no quietnesse of life, for as much as two contraries are neuer found in one subiect, nor one hart in two contrarie fortunes, for wealth in a wo∣man without wisdome, & pouertie in a man without great gouernement, doo neuer make vp a quiet marriage.

Moreouer, let there be a lykenesse in theyr manners, and a vnitie in theyr mindes, least if there affections be vari∣able, they become seperable: for where there is no likenesse in manners, there can be no soundnesse in fréendshippe: where is no soundnes in fréendship, there is no faithfulnes

in loue: where is no faithfulnes in loue, there may be no quietnes of lyfe, and where the lyfe is vnquiet, there is the lyfe but a death, and the mariage a myserie.

But aboue all, séeing that Natura nihil solitarium amat, And that those that haue not the gift of continencie must marrie, (albeit that in marriage are many discommodities, yet of euils the least is to be chosen, For better it is to mar∣rie, then to burne in fleshlie desires:) let euery wise man haue a speciall regard therefore, that her Parentes be ho∣nest, she vertuous, and therewithall Religious, séeing that the lacke of Religion is the want of good lyfe, and the open gappe to all vngodlinesse, and surely, this lacke of foresight in choyse, leadeth many a man to yll chaunce, making the whole lyfe vnsauerie, that else might be spent in swéete and pleasaunt quietnesse, and ended in myrth, ioye and happinesse.

In breefe therefore, good education is better in a Maiden then ritches, albeit I will not disswade any man from pro∣fite, so it be not wholie respected: for I deny not, but that wealth & wisdome may be coupled, and vertue and ritches conioyned, that there may be as much vice in néedy pouer∣tie, as pride in glistering ritches, for Marcus Cato had a wife, who although she were poore, yet was she proude, pō∣tifical & péeuish: yet is a poore Maiden vertuous, better then a ritch that is vicious, and pouertie with glorie, is better then ritches with infamy.

But now to vse Apostrophe, to those that are married, as in the choyse of a wife, there is to be vsed discretion, so must thou gouerne her by mildnesse and wisedome, austeritie of wordes, must be mingled with gentlenesse of spéech: feare must in her be turned into loue, and bitternesse in thée, into swéetnesse of behauiour, seeing that she was not made of the head nor the foote, but of the ryb and side of man, which sheweth, that as she may not be a mystresse, so must she be no maide, as no soueraigne, so no seruaunt, but an equall companion, and a freendly fellow, to participate with thee of euery fortune.

With this mildnesse of gouernement, must be matched, secrecie of chastisement, that euery fault be not openly cor∣rected, nor euery offence publique detected, euery light fault must not be found, nor euerie infirmity sharply noted, for as a discord in musicke, being a harshe and vnpleasaunt stroke of mixed soundes, sharpe and flat, is unpleasaunt to the tuneable eare: So the publique disagréemēt of cooples, being an vnsauerie noyse of iarring wordes, is gréeuous to the honest godly minde, therefore if any occasion of offence fal out, (as it cannot chuse but euen among the best, it may sometimes happen, for, Ʋnicuique dedit vitium natura crea∣to, To euerie one that liues, hath nature giuen a fault,) there ought to be great cyrcumspection, that it be not onely reprooued, least a small offence vnwisely handled, bréede a gaule in the minde, and a gréefe in the heart.

Last of all, accustome thy selfe to fréendlinesse in spéeche, and louingnes in cōmunication, to honesty of life, and ver∣tuousnesse of manners, that going before in gouernement of life, she may follow in obedience of behauior, let thy life be a lantorne to light her, and a guide to leade her, an ex∣ample of vertue, and a patterne of honest demeanor, that she beholding thy vertue, may immitate thée in euery god∣ly action. These notes duely obserued, will profite thée in singlenesse, and ease thée in wedlocke, make thy whole life delightfull, and thy death ioyfull, that departing from the shaddowe of this short life, a good conscience may accompany thée to the life eternall, and a good name remayne for thy eter∣nall memorie. Amen.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Super. Math.