Samuel Rowlands

“ Vnto the purpose I was borne, ile liue,
All maydes are fooles that vvill not ioyne vvith vs,
And vnto men their right of marriage giue:
Most vvorthy Bride, here is my hand and vow,
I loue a man in heart, as vvell as thou. ”

“ Your liues are like those worthles barren trees,
That never yeald (from yeare to yeare) but leaues:
Greene-bowes vpon them only all men sees,
But other goodnes there is none receaues,
They flourish sommer and they make a showe,
Yet to themselues they fruitles spring & growe.
Consider beast, and fish and foule, all creatures,
How there is male and female of their kinde,
And how in loue they doe inlarge their natures:
Even by constrayn'd necessity inclyn'd:
To paire and match, and couple tis decreed,
To stocke and store the earth, with what they breed. ”

“ Why then of all on earth that liue and moue,
We should degenerate and monsters proue.
Besse.
Monsters (forsoth) nere sleepe in maidens beds,
But they are lodged with your married wiues,
The knotty browes, and rugged butting heds,
Concerne not vs, professing single liues,
To learne your horne-booke we have no deuotion
Keepe monsters to your selues, we scorne the motion. ”

“ I pray you here let this contention ende,
(We being all of selfe same woman kind,)
And each the other, with aduise befriend,
Because I see some of you well enclin'd:
To take good wayes, and so become good wiues,
Ile teach you certaine rules to leade your liues.
You that intend the honourable life,
And vvould vvith ioy liue happy in the same,
Must note eight duties doe concerne a wife,
To vvhich vvith all endeuour she must frame:
And so in peace possesse her husbands loue,
And all distast from both their hearts remooue. ”

“ As well of wiues as you that are but maydes,
We praise not faults wherewith men are infected,
Nor yeeld applause to euery one perswades:
Our praysing men thus vnderstand you must,
Tis meant of those are honest, louing, iust.
Why there are men doe erre in what you hold,
Chast batchelers that neuer meane to match,
Who for the siugle life smooth tales haue told,
And yet the fleshly knaues will haue a snatch:
Ile ne're trust those that of themselues doe boast,
The great'st presisians will deceiue you most. ”

“ They Maiestraites to right offensiue wronges,
They souldiers for their martiall valiantnes,
They artizans, for all to vse belonges:
They husbandmen to worke the earths increase,
And they the some of womens ioye and peace. ”

“ Nothing vnfit, nothing vniust to doe,
But all in order orderly consisting,
Then what seeme they that wil not ioine their two
And so be one, without vnkinde resisting:
Surely no other censure passe I can,
But she's halfe woman liues without a man.
One, that depriues her selfe of whats her right,
Borne vnto care, and ignorant of ease,
A lustlesse liuing thing, without delight,
One, whom vnpleasantnesse best seemes to please:
Depriu'd of lifes sweete ioy, from kind remoued,
Of worthlesse parts, vnworthy to be loued. ”

“ Then friend in trouble rhat his loue explaines:
For such a one we may resolue is true,
That changeth not, though fortune turne from yon.
And thus faire virgins, to you all farewell,
What I haue spoken doe proceede from loue,
The ioyes of marriage I want art to tell,
And therefore no more talke, but try and proue:
With wedding rings, be wiues of credit knowne
God send good husbands to you euery one. ”

“ When the complete works of Samuel Rowlands were issued by the Hunterian Club in 1872-1880, in an edition of two hundred and ten copies, the Editor was obliged to omit from the collection the poem entitled "The Bride." No copy of this tract was supposed to be extant. Twenty years later, in the article on Rowlands in the Dictionary of National Biography, Mr. Sidney Lee also names this poem as one of the author's lost works. All that was known of it was the entry in the Stationers' Register: [Footnote: Arber's Transcript, vol. iii. p. 609.] ”

“ Or robd some printed Booke, I doe protest:
I cannot tell, but his owne name is to it,
Which proues he takes vpon him for to doe it.
* * * * *
The Loue Letter.
The truest heart, shall nought but falshood cherish,
The mildest man, a cruell tyrant prooue,
The water drops, the hardest flint shall perish,
The hilles shall walke, and massie earth remooue:
The brightest Sun shall turne to darkesome clowde,
Ere I prooue false, where I my loue haue vowde. ”

“ And decently vnto her calling goe,
Not diuing in the frugall purse too deepe,
By making to the world a pecocke showe:
Though they seeme fooles, so yeelde vnto their wiues,
Some poore men doe it to haue quiet liues. ”