CCXI sociable letters written by the thrice noble, illustrious, and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

CXCVIII.

MADAM,

IN your last Letter you Express'd to me, that Mr. F. R. was to Visit you, and his Discourse was bent all against Women, saying, that most of their Actions were spent in Dressing, and their Thoughts in Devising and Inventing of Fashi∣ons, and that they were Composed of Nothing but Vanity, and made up with Art, so that by their Dressing, they might be thought rather to be Artificial, than Natural Creatures; but you Answer'd him Well, when you told him

he was more Artificial with Formality, than Women with Vanity, and that all Men were as much Artified as Women, and I having no∣thing to do, after I had read your Letter, made a Copy of Verses upon the Theme of his Dis∣course, I confess they are not Good ones, but such as they are, I send them you, as following.

THou Seeming Wise man, what is that to thee, If I to Please my self, Accoustre me According to my Mind? Must nought be worn That doth the Body Handsomly Adorn? If we must nothing Artificial wear, Then go stark Nak'd, and all the Body Bare, For if thou wear'st a Rag, though ne'r so Plain, Yet Artificial still thou wilt remain; Nay, if with Fig-leaves thou dost make thy Breeches, 'Tis Artificial still, if sow'd with Stitches; If thou dost Shave thy Beard, or Cut thy Hair, Or Pair thy Nails, or Corns, 'tis Art, I Swear; But if thou Artificial things think'st Vain, Then like a Beast in Woods and Fields remain, And feed on Grass Vnmow'd, and Herbs Unset, And Fruit that's Wild, if thou but canst them get, For Nature's not so Bountiful to give All Creatures a Sufficiency to Live; For if that Art did not Increase the Store Of every thing, the World would be but Poor, Nay Beasts would Sterve, and Men with Fa∣mine Dye, If Art did not use Skill and Industry;

But Art and Nature do so well Agree, Like Man and Wife, they Propagators be, And therefore Scholars, as Grammarians, miss When they say Both the Female Gender is. But, Lord! what Fools these Seeming Wise men are, Or those that are Precise, and do not wear, Nor will allow that any thing be worn Which may the Body Handsomly Adorn, But Rail at those that Newer Arts Attire, And nothing but Old-fashion'd Clothes Admire, When in those Older Clothes and Fashions too, Art had as much as in new Modes to do. When VVomen fine are Dress'd, and Curl'd their Hair, They Rail, and say they Artificial are, They are not Handsom, 'cause th' are Artified, VVith several colour'd Ribbands they are tyed, VVorthy is only she to be Admir'd That's only in her Natural Dress Attir'd, And thus they Talk; but if her Dress be so, She Naked as her Mother Eve must go. VVhat shall I say to these Grave Fools their Talk, VVho with an Artificial Pace do walk, And yet Condemn the Art that VVomen use, And think therein they Nature much Abuse? They may as well Condemn the Husband's Care, Who doth Manure his Lands to make them Bear, Or Gardners that do Plant, or Set sweet Flow'rs, Or make fine Arbors, or Cool Shady Bow'rs; Or Cooks that do dress Meat with wondrous Skill, Which Nourishes the Body, and doth Fill; Or Apothecaries, which do Drugs Compound, To Help the Life, and make the Body Sound;

Or States, or Commonwealths, which do provide What makes Good Laws the Vulgar for to guide, That men may live in Neighbourhood and Peace, In which Mankind doth Thrive, & much Increase. They may as well call all the Preachers Fools, Because they Preach & Teach by Logick Rules. Yet Preachers in their Pulpits do Declame 'Gainst Dressing Arts, and all our Sex do Blame For Plaited Braids, Pendents, and Curled Hair, And all our several Garments which we wear, A Feather'd Fan, though't Cools the Sultry Heat, With terrible Threats they in our Ears do beat, Black patches on our Face, Pimples to hide, They Rail against, and call them marks of Pride, And every thing indeed which we do wear, Th' Exclame against, as if their Throats they'd tear. Sure they would have us Adamites, yet know, Against Bare-necks they Thundring Words out throw, This last, I do conelude without all doubt, 'Tis that we are not Naked quite throughout; But let them Rail at Clothes and Curling Pins, Black patches, Fans, and such like other things, We are Reveng'd, for with their Firy Tongues, They Spend their Spirits, and do Hurt their Lungs; For sure a Man no Reason yet can show, Nor hath Intelligence the Truth to know, That God should be Displeased at our Dress, As for a Patch Damnation, and no less.

Would he make Souls for Devils to Possess, And none as made his Goodness for to Bless? 'Tis not a Feather'd Fan, or Curled Hair, Can make him Angry, when we them do wear, For Prayers may to Heaven High be sent With as much Zeal from Souls as Innocent, That have their Bodies Beautiful and Fair, Their Garments Vseful, Comly, Rich, and Rare, For Garments Rich do not the Soul Pollute, Nor can Poor Clothes against Great Sins dispute; Devotion in Prosperity may live, And praise God for the Gifts that he doth give; As for Example, Job in's Happy State Was as Devout, as when Unfortunate, When he was Rich, and all in Purple Clad, As often to his God Recourses had, And Abram Rich, who lived like a King, He many Offerings to his God did bring. Thus Rich men be'as Devout, as those that are Both Mean and Poor, and rather Foul than Fair. Devotion may in Palaces be found, As soon as in a Cell under the Ground, Or Cottage that is Poor, Thatch'd, Mean, and Low, Wherein the Dwellers no Religion Know, For they not having Means for to be Taught, Do neither Seek, nor Practise what they ought, And Deadly Sin in Poor mens Hearts may Dwell, As oft as in Rich mens whose Wealths Excell, And had but Poor men Wealth, they soon would grow So Proud and High, as not themselves to Know.

And if Rich men can Serve their God as well As those that in Low Poverty do Dwell, Why should they Quit their Wealth, and choose to Live With Poverty, that nothing hath to Give? Doth all Devotion in Shav'd Heads still dwell? Is there no way to Heav'n but through a Cell? Must Tubs, as Pulpits, only be for Prayer, Or must to Zealous Night-caps we Repair? Hath none the Grace, or Spirit of God but those Who all are clad in Puritanical Clothes? Their very Looks and Gate with Art is Drest, The Picture of Hypocrisie Exprest; 'Tis not the Outside makes the Soul Divine, No more than Earth doth make the Sun to shine; Extremes in all Religions are not well, It Keeps from Heaven, and Draws down to Hell.

But now I send you these Verses, Madam, you must not let F. R. See, nor Hear them, for if he knows they were made upon his Dis∣course, he will leave off Railing against the Ge∣nerality of our Sex, and fall only on Me, so as it will draw the whole Malice upon Me, by reason I have Answer'd in the Behalf of the Ge∣nerality; also I have call'd him a Seeming Wise man, which will Anger him more, for it is almost as bad as if I should call him a Fool, for a man takes it for as Great an Af∣front to be call'd a Fool, as a VVoman doth when she is said not to be Handsom. But howsoever I leave my Poem to your Dis∣cretion,

to be Disposed of as you Please, and rest,

Madam,

Your faithful Friend and Servant.