The Ephesian and Cimmerian matrons two notable examples of the power of love & wit.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE Ephesian Matron.

My dearest Friend,

YOu can be, I perceive, both highly obliging, and no less severe to one and the same Per∣son, in one and the same act. When you were pleas'd last Summer, to send me your EPHESIAN MATRON, with strict Command, that I should entertain her, as jealous Italians do their Mistresses, mew her up in my Cabinet, from sight of the whole world: You sent a Present

(I acknowledge) than which nothing could have been more gratefull; but you conjoyn'd therewith a R••striction, than which none could have been more rigo∣rous. You gave me good Wine, and then gelt it with Water; as the Spanish say∣ing is of such, who destroy their own benefits. Like an imperious Lord, you would have had the Lady my Tenent at your will: and after you had made me a free Grant, you inserted a Proviso to ren∣der it void. In a word, your Injunction to me, to restrain her from the conversa∣tion of all others, was not only tyrannical and inhumane in it self (for, as our great Moralist, and beloved Author, Chaucer, in the Wise of Bath's Prologue.

He is to great a Diggarde, that will werne A man, to light a candle at his Lanterne;)

but also inconsistent with both the good∣ness of her nature, and the freedome of my enjoying the pleasures thereof. For,

First, the love of Liberty is no less natural to the soft and delicate Sex, than

to our harder and martial one: nor doth our Magna Charta contain more Privi∣ledges and Franchises, than theirs. Nay, their Beauty, as being the Ofspring of light (for Plato defined it to be the luster of the Soul resplendent in the bodie) justi∣fies their abhorrence of confinement. Henc•• no Law-givers have ever been so unrea∣sonable, so unhumane, as to abridge Wo∣men of their native priviledge of a free and open conversation with Men. And we should live but uncomfortably at best, if we denied them, especially while they are young, handsom, and well dress'd, to shew themselves abroad in company, and appear in frequent assemblies. Besides, as the same Wife of Bathe speaks in the name of her whole sex,

We love no man, that taketh keepe or charge Where that we go; we woll be at our large.

Nor is it less difficult to put restraint up∣on a Lady of her sprightly and debonaire humor, than to imprison the Sun-beams, catch the winds in a net▪ or impound an

Eagle (as the Aldermen of Gotham did a Cuckow) within a hedge: and he who is so well conceited of his vigilancy, or pow∣er, as to attempt it; is capable of being perswaded also, that he can make Glass malleable, square the Circle, prevent the decay of beauty by Time, or repair it by the oyl of Talk. Novelty is a Loadstone to us all, especially to Women, who na∣turally are so much given to Curiosity, that some Divines have held, our Great Grandmother Eve had never longed for the forbidden fruit, had it not been for∣bidden. Hence that Proverb, where Jealousie is Jaylor, most break prison, which was litterally verified in the Wife of the Goaler, in Aristenatus; who though strictly watch'd and lock'd up by the jealous Coxcomb her Husband, yet found an opportunity to be loose, while she was in strong hold.

Quisquis vectibus & seris Custodit uxorem, cum sibi sapiens vi∣deatur Stultus est.

Again, you were not ignorant, that I am of so Charitable and Communicative a Genius, that I hate to eat my morsels alone, though they be never so sweet and delicious. One of my Maxims is, quo communius, eo suavius; the more de∣lectable I find any thing to my self, the more desirous I am to impart the same to my Friends and Acquaintance: it being not the least of my pleasures, to accom∣modate and please others.

Knowing, therefore, on one part, that the Ephesian was amiable, tempting and witty; and on the other, that I am no Monopolizer of such Commodities, but of a publick spirit and free-hearted: You ought either not to have put her into my hands, or not to have expected I should restrain her from shewing her self to the world. Nor am I to be so much bla∣med, for permitting her to go to London, and appear openly in the New Ex∣change: as you are for imagining, that so fair and polite a Creature deserved

such harsh usage, as to be alwayes con∣fined with me in an obscure Country Village among Fanatick Weavers and Cloth-workers.

But, you'll say (I presume) as poor Malbecco said in excuse of his jealousie; that you grounded your command of Se∣cresie, not upon distrust of the Matrons virtue, but upon fear of having your judgment and honour brought into question, if the censorious World should once come to know, who it was, that brought her from Rome, and furnished her with so handsome an English dress. And this seems a good Caution; but was it a prudent one? What cause had you for it? More than one. Well then, I guess at your thoughts. You feard, lest some men might be of so severe a brow, as to think you had forgotten the Gra∣vity required in a Philosopher, and one of your ripe years, while you in∣dulged your Pen, the liberty of touching

upon an Amorous Argument, though without violation of Modesty, and only for divertisement. You feard, lest others, less acquainted with Books, might mistake the History for a Ficti∣on; and you for the Author: and thereupon take occasion to discredit both. You feard again, lest others might per∣vert the sense of your Text by a false Comment, interpret what you inten∣ded only for an innocent and facete Exercise of your Wit, to be a designe of Malice, a studied Satyr against Women. These are all the Reasons I can imagine you could alleage against my ex∣posing to publick view that good-natur'd Stranger.

To let you see, then, how much you were deceived in the weight of these Objections, suggested to you by your fear of Detraction and Scandal; and withall briefly to Apologize for my own transgression of your Command,

in transmitting the Ephesian to the Press (for, that I own to my act:) I find my self obliged to perpend them one by one in the ballance of Equity.

In the First place, you had no reason to think Love to be so juvenile and sooty an Argument, that you could not handle it without contracting stains upon your Reputation. For, that Erotic passion is allowed by all learned men to be a spe∣cies of Melancholy, and in that name your very Profession gave you a just title to inquire into the origine, nature, causes, signes, symptomes, &c. thereof. Again, you have the authority of no less man than Marsilius Ficinus (in praefat. ad Convivium Platonis) omnem Amo∣rem honestum esse, & bonum, omnes∣que amore dignos, qui bene dicunt de amore; that all Love is honest and good, and all those worthy to be loved, who speak well of it. Nor need you seek long for Presidents in the case. Among An∣tient Philosophers, you have Plato

(〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉) Xenophon (sym∣pos.) Theophrastus (if we may believe Athenaeus, lib. 13. cap. 9.) Plutarch, Plotinus, Maximus Tyrius, Cadmus Milesius (who, as Langius, in lib. 1. Epist. 24. observes out of Suidas, wrote no less than 14. Books of Love) and A∣vicenna. Among the Moderns, Picus Mirandula, Marius Aequicola, both in Italian; Kornmannus de linea Amoris lib. 3. Petrus Godefridus, in as many; and P. Haedus. Of Physicians, you have Arnoldus de villa nova, Valleriola, Aelian Montaltus, in their Treatises of Melancholy; Valescus de Taranta, Gor∣donius, Hercules de Saxonia, Savanaro∣la, Langius, Sennertus, Tulpius: some of whom have written express Tractates of the nature and extent of Love-melan∣cholly; and others rare observations of the strange and prodigious Effects of the same. Yea, of Divines themselves you have Examples not a few; of which I shall put you in mind only of two, as most

memorable. One is that of Heliodorus, a reverend Bishop, who penned the famous Love-story of Theagines and Chariclea: and when some sowr Cato's of that time reprehended him for it, chose rather (saith Nicephorus, Histor. lib. 12. cap. 34.) to leave his Bishoprick, than disa∣vow his Book. The other is of Aeneas Silvius, an ancient Theologue; who after the 40. year of his age, as himself confesseth (in praefat. lib. 1.) composed that wan∣ton Roman of Euryalus and Lucrecia. To these I could have added other two eminent Divines of our own time and Nation, Mr Burton, who wrote copious∣ly and learnedly of Love-melancholy; and Dr. Tailer, who thought it no dimi∣nution of his Gravity, to recount (if I remember well, in his Art of living and dying virtuously) the very same story of the Ephesian Matron, as an instance of Human Frail••y. Nay, I might alleage the Loves of Jacob and Rachel, of Sichem and Dinah, Juda and Thamar, Samp∣son

and Dalilah, David and Bersheba, Ammon and his Sister, Salomon and Pharaoh's Daughter, &c. all mentioned in Sacred Writ. But I have been al∣ready too prolix in an Argument so com∣mon and obvious. To conclude this first part, therefore, of your Iustification; if it were no dishonour to these grave Au∣thors to have treated of Love; why should you, a Natural Philosopher, and yet no old man, apprehend it so dangerous a thing to your good name, to let the world know, you had bestowed a few va∣cant hours, for your divertisement, upon the same Subject? Had you been at that time twice as old as you are now, I, for my part, should have liked your Chara∣cters of Love so much the be••ter: be∣cause (as the Lord John answered the Queen in that I••alian Guazzo, lib. 4. de civili conversatione) a grave and discreet Person is fi••test to discourse of Amorous adventures, as having more experience, and more staid judgment,

to make wholesome and usefull Re∣marques thereupon, for the advice and caution of greener heads.

As for your Second imaginary Obje∣ction, viz. that the Ephesian might be thought the Minerva of your Brain, your natural Daughter, when indeed she was only your adopted one: certainly, my dear Friend, you had laid aside your considering-cap, when you sufferd so light a conceipt to make any the least impres∣sion upon your skull. For, every Scholar very well knows, that the Lady being the Daughter of Petronius Arbiter, in his Satyricon, cannot therefore be less then sixteen hundred years elder than you. Whether she was a True, or a Roman∣tique one; the Author having kept that in his breast, I am not able, after so long an interval of time, to determine. But thus much I can assure those, who doubt of her Reality; that Flavianus, apud Salisberiensem, affirms that the Sto∣ry is a true one, and that the Woman

suffer'd death for her parricidal wiched∣ness and adultery, as he (in my judgment too severely) stiles her fault. This Paren∣thesis begets a Digression.

I say, too severely; because her Hus∣band being newly dead of some violent sickness, and she then a Widow, when she so graciously obliged the Souldier: where was either her Parricide, or her Adultery? I should think, that either the Ephesian Laws against removing the dead out of their Sepulchres, were inhumanely strict; if her Iudges were thereby obliged to ac∣count that fact in her equivalent to Par∣ricide: or that Flavianus had been mis∣informed in that part of the Story. For, as to the other part of her Charge, her so facil and suddain giving her self up to the Souldiers embraces; had the Laws of the place made it capital (which I be∣lieve they did not, because I never read of any Laws so extremely rigorous, in any of the Cities of Greece) yet she had wit enough to evade them, by pretending

Marriage to her new Lover. Here I have an opportunity to observe to you, that though that excellent Divine, new∣ly quoted, Dr. Tayler, was pleased so to sweeten and extenuate the Levity of the Woman, as to tell his Readers, that she married the Souldier in the Vault, yet I cannot assent to him in that particular. The words of Petronius, indeed, are these; Jacuerunt, (or, as the best Cri∣tiques read, latuerunt) una, non tan∣tum illa nocte, qua nuptias fecerunt, sed postero etiam ac tertio die, &c. But all who are conversant in the Latin tongue, well understand, that nubere & nuptias facere, is by a modest Meta∣lepsis used, by the ancient Romans, pro 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉; as Plautus used it, Pseud. act. 1. scen. 3. and as Voscius (in Etymo∣logic.) judiciously holds Petronius to have used it in this place. Which I occasionally touched upon, not as a de∣fect of Iudgment, but an excess of Cha∣rity in that learned and pious Divine;

who was willing to honest the poor wo∣mans lapse, by an interpretation to her most favorable, and to her Sex least of∣fensive.

To return to my tracing of the Story it self. Jan. Dousa, in his Notes upon this Chapter of Petronius, tells us, that the very same Novel was put into elegant Latin verse by one Romulus, an antique Grammarian; that long after that it was copiously wri••ten in the German language, and thence translated again into Latin, by Fr. Modius, a Civilian, who changed the persons, new-mold••d the Story, and publish'd it under this Title: Ludus septem sapientum de Astrei, re∣gii adolescentis, educatione, periculis, &c. and that about the year of Christ ci••. cc. it was rendred in French Rithm by Hebertus, a Clerk. To these I could have added others also, through whose hands our Matron passed, had I not wan∣ted the latest Edition of Petronius by Gabbema, who has been diligent in

deriving her pedigree; and to whom I am compelled to refer you. Mean while it is well known even to the vulgar of our Nation, that she hath found a place in the Book of the Seven Wise Masters; and is the chief Person in the Comedy called the Widdows Tears. Now it be∣ing thus credible, that the Ephesian was no Roman, no Fairy or Child of Fancy, but a very Woman of flesh and blood, and notoriously manifest, that she ••ath been Favorite to many learned and grave Men, who have handed her down (〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉) from Nation to Nati∣on, from age to age, keeping the torch of her beauty unextinct, and giving her a perpetual Youth by the Nepenthe of their immortal Penns: whoever shall take her for Your Daughter (I do not say Mi∣stress) will discover ignorance enough to render him the subject of scorn and dirision; nor will he more easily find be∣lief among the sober and judicious, than if he should report you to be the Souldier,

who cured her of her Grief, by easing himself of his Love.

As for the Last Objection, your fear to fall into the displeasure of the La∣dies, who being naturally jealous of the honour of their sex, possibly might su∣spect the Book to be at best but a well-dis∣guis'd Satyr against them: I conceive that to be already sufficiently prevented, partly by what you have, in many places of the Book it self, said in ho∣nour of their Virtues; par••ly by my precedent solutions of your two for∣mer Objections. For, since I have made it apparent, that you are not the first Philosopher who hath exerci∣sed his wit and pen in consideration of their admirable power of Love, nor Author of Story of that Amorous Ad∣venture of the Ephesian, which Ladies are most likely to condemn: I see no rea∣son, why any Woman should take offence, for that you have in chast and unblame∣able language illustrated the nature of

the Former, by observing the wonder∣ful Accidents of the Later. All cau∣ses are best known by their effects: and in all Arguments, simple Discourses, without Examples, are flat and unper∣suasive. To me, therefore, it seems ra∣ther a virtue, than a fault in you, that having designed to examine the forces of that Vniversal Tyrann, Love; You made choice of a short and memorable Story, in which the same were clearly Exemplified. Besides this, I can al∣leage in your defence, what the learned Mycillus, being reprehended for trans∣lating some of the profaner Dialogues of Lucian, pleaded in his own; Operi suscepto serviendum fuit, you were obli∣ged to comply with your Province, and to prosecute the work you had taken in hand.

If it be farther urged, that you bring in the Souldier most bitterly railing upon, and blaspheming the whole Sex, I an∣swer, that you could not with decency a∣void it. Because you were bound in your

Narration to introduce him in that distem∣per of Passion, into which his misfortune and danger had transported him. O••her∣wise you could not conserve the 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (as Aristotle properly calls it) the De∣corum of either his Person, or his passion, or the Occasion of it. For, he is delivered to have been no accomplish'd and polite Courtier, nor unpassionate Stoic, but a blunt and Choleric Fellow, a Common Souldier: and being inraged at the steal∣ing away of the Malefactors Carcass from the Gibbet, and reflecting upon the obli∣ging Lady (who, as you well observe, de∣served more respect and gratitude at his hands) as the chief cause of his negli∣gence: it is highly probable, that he brake forth into dire imprecations & reproach∣es, such perhaps as those, in which you imagine him to have vented his furious resentments. In Poets, all acknowledg it an Excellency, to accomodate every person whom they introduce, with language and action agreable to his Character & Passion:

why then should the same be a Vice in you, where you were obliged to repre∣sent a person almost distracted with a syndrome of Remorse▪ Fear, Anger and Despair; the least of which was violent enough to make him forget his late obligations to his Mistress, and the ci∣vility due to her Sex? So that it may with more justice be said, that the Soul∣dier put that invective Harangue into your Pen; than it can, that you put it into his mouth. In fine, I dare be so far your Compurgator in the case, as to swear, that it went against your very soul to be necessitated, by the condition of your Theme, to say any thing that tended to the disparagement of the beautifull and delicate Sex: and how∣ever you may suffer by the prejudice of some Ladies, to whom your Perso•• and Conversation are ••nknown; there are others, I am sure, who will vindi∣cate you from the infamy of a Woman-hater.

Now, my dearest Friend, if what you have heard me say here, in way of a short Remonstrance of the Innocency and Candor of your Ephesian, be judged by you sufficient to reconcile the Ladies to her, and my self to you, after my offence committed against both, in exposing her to publick censure: truly I shall think my self no less happy in being instrumental to your vindication, than I have thought my self unhappy in being so to your Scandal. If not, there is no way left for me to expia••e my fault, but by in∣volving my self also in the same danger, to which my excess of good-nature hath made you obnoxious. Having in sport thrown you into the river, and finding you unable to bear up against the impe∣tuous torrent of Feminine prejudice, that is violent ••nough to overset a Navy: I am resolved to leap in after, and ei∣ther save you from sinking, or perish with you. Well then, to le•• you see how far I dare to hazard my own fame, to preserve

yours; behold a Second Matron, whose Amorous Adventure very neerly resem∣bles that of the kind Ephesian. She in like manner falls into an Intrigue (as they now adays call it) with a Souldier, and at first sight too: and encountring no small difficulty in the pursuit of her love, is witty enough both to surmount that, and conceal her stoln pleasures, by a trick that pass'd for no less than a Miracle. Ha∣ving found the Novel in the Comus si∣ve Phagesiposia Cimmeria of that witty and erudite Noble Italian, Erycius Pu∣teanus; and out of his elegant Latin translated into plain English; I now bring it as a Handmaid to wait upon the Ephesian, at least, if you think it worthy of that honour. And because I would have this Cimmerian come as neer to the Ephesian in Habit and Equipage, as she doth in Manners and Fortune; I have taken a little pains to dress her, as you did the other, li••e the Mistress of a Philosopher. Finding it very undecent

to interlace the Narration with Philoso∣phical Speculations, as you have done the former; because her adventure ad∣mits no pauses or intervals, wherein the Reader ought to be diverted for Modesty sake: I have been constrained, therefore, to put all her Garniture in one place, at the end, where you will meet with it under the title of The Mysteries and Miracles of Love. ¶

Here endeth the Squiers Prologue, and here after followeth his Tale.