PASQVILS Mistresse Or THE WORTHIE AND vnworthie woman VVith his description and passion of that Furie Iealousie ¶ Imprinted at London for Thomas Fisher and are to be soulde at his shoppe at the Signe of the White Hart in Fleetestreete 1600. ⧠THE BEST MERIriest wit in true honest kindnesse not king Humfrey but Humfrey King God and a good wife make a happie man in this world LVstie Humfrey honest wagge hearing of late of your determination to enter into the honourable course of kindnesse which after many mad Roundes will be the best daunce to continue with hopeing that you are olde enough to knowe what is good for your selfe and yet not so wilful in conceipt but you will take aduisement of your good friends for the better instruction of your iudgement in this loues lawe-case I haue thought good to set you downe such notes worthy memory as may giue you great light in the best way to your comfort where finding the true description of the worthy and vnworthy woman you may by gods helpe make a choyce worth the chusing Pasquill sent them to me and I to you hoping that if they be not as they should be you will blame him and not me So wishing thine honest heart as good fortune as my selfe and as much better as shall please God if you light well to be glad but not proude of it if otherwise to be as patient as your poore friendes hoping that you wil finde a iewell worth the keeping and drosse but worth the discarding I cōmit my booke to your kinde reading my loue to your like keeping and so rest Your affectionate friende Salohcin Treboun ⧠To the Reader PASQVILL as you haue heard hauing had many madde humours in his heade could neuer be at quiet in his heart till he had eased his minde of his melācholy now of late leauing boyes play to goe to coytes to put toyes out of his heade fell to studie of loue which finding out a Mistresse for his humour put his wits to many good seruices scarce worthie the reciting But in briefe he was so graueled in the admiration of her perfections that he look't so farre into her minde as made him haue minde almost of nothing else till finding the varietie of her inclination hee grewe out of loue with loue his mistresse was but a dreame and women were strange creatures if they were as they should be they were to hard to come by if as too many be they were better lost than founde And in this quandarie of quimeddledy how now according to the olde country Rounde Take the best and leaue the worst and breake none of the pale hee hath written his minde of all that came to his thought hoping the best will be quiet and the rest wil mende And so wishing euery man to take his fortune as patiently as hee may and to speake as well of him as he list he rests after his olde fashion Pasquill ⧠Pasquill in general to women YEE that are worthie of honour I willingly giue it yee yee that deserue ill I will pray for yee that God wil amend yee but yee that are gratious be not proud least yee fallere yee be aware and yee that are too blame be not desperate God is mercifull among yee all let none be more pieuish than another to take ill to her selfe What is good take it yee that deserue it what is ill I bequeath it to none at all for I knowe not her whome particularly I will touch with imperfections Some kinde of shadowes I dreamed of that were like women which when I awooke I found nothing such And therfore hoping all women will deserue some good thought or other I will honour the best pray for the worst and so rest Pasquill ⧠PASQVILS MISTRESSE NOt shee that braues a picture for a face Nor shee whose waste is little as a wand Nor shee whose eye can glance it with a grace Nor shee that hath a Spider fingred hand Nor shee that doth vpon her Tiptoes stand Nor shee that is with beauties drosse bedight Is she of whom my Muse doth meane to write For Beautie fadeth like a Morning flower And sicknesse windes the bodie soone awry And Pride is but the shadowe of a power Nor in a finger doth all fairenesse lie For when foote hand head heart and al must die And death hath made a Carcasse of a Creature What good do then the Ornaments of Nature No no there is an other kinde of thing Which in the heart doth grow as some do gesse That secretly doth through the spirit spring And heauenly powers especially doe blesse Which as it growes by measure more or lesse Doth beautifie the bodie where it growes As wit and reason all in wonder showes Which some do call the Quintessence of Nature Other set downe for reasons gouernment And some do call the forme of honours feature And other some the spirits Instrument That giues each limme sense their ornament But all and some agree on this I finde It is the wonder in a womans minde It is the Minde that giues the Maiestie The purest beautie is within the Minde It is the Minde that makes the dignitie It is the Minde that makes the Nature kinde And keepes the eye that neuer can be blinde It is the Minde that guids both heart head For kill the Minde the body is but dead And this same mind that monarcheth the thought Wherein it doth by inspiration dwell By whom the ground of euery grace is sought The eye to see eare heare the tongue to tell How euery sense may in it selfe excell This minde I say the maiestie of Nature Is onely it that makes the perfect Creature This minde the gift of the Supernall grace Descending from the life of Mercies loue Which in true musique skorns to touch the Base But in the height of honours best behooue Doth the true consort of contentments prooue This minde is it that in true happinesse Doth onely make a womans worthinesse For let her be as faire as Curds and Creame Yet if her minde be made of Milke and Cheese Her water is but like a common streame That in a puddle doth her honour leese A Waspish minde is not for hony Bees While the true minde where honour hath her height Can not descend into a base conceit And let her be a bagge of golde for wealth Yet if withall she beare a begger minde The gratious eye that sees the spirits health Knowes that the heart that is to hell enclinde In vertues heauen can neuer honour finde While the true minde where vertue hath her place Makes gold but drosse to purchase honors grace And let her be a very Ape for wit Yet if she be enclinde to Monkies toyes Vertue that doth the heart to honour fit Findes it too full of follies fowle annoyes To seeke the Iewell of true Graces ioyes While wisdome showes that in the soule doth sit There is no honour in an Apishe
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
wit And let her be a Ladie for her honour Yet if shee be of an vngentle minde What heart of worth that will attend vpon her That can not grace true vertue in her kinde But like a Buzzard let her beate the winde While the true minde that hath true honor proued Makes gratious kindnesse worthily beloued Thus let her be faire wealthie noble wise Yet if these be not inly in the minde In the cleare iudgement of true wisdomes eyes Shee is no Creature of an Angels kinde While shadowes do but Indiscretion blinde No t is the minde that the true worth retaineth That all by vertue endlesse honour gaineth For if I may describe a worthie woman Worthie of honour in the highest kinde Such as but such one knowne to few or no man But by the module of a heauenly minde If that mine eye be not conceited blinde I will set downe how gratious thoughts bring forth The perfect wonder of a womans worth If shee be faire without gratious within Noble of birth and in demeanour kinde Welthie in purse yet will with bounty winne The worthy honour of a Noble minde Such a rare Phoenix in the world to finde And to be matched in her worth by no man May well describe the wonder of a woman But if her beautie be a common blaze To fire the heart of euery foolish head Or like a glasse be euery woodcockes gaze By fond affectes to bring a foole to bed If such ill humours haue the spirit fedde Where wisdom wants to giue the minde a grace It makes a picture of a painted face And if she be of Noble Parentage Yet turne her minde vnto a meaner string And by the want of honours cariage Will grace a begger and disgrace a King And leaue a Larke to heare a Cuckoe sing Vnfitly was that honours title giuen her Whē a base minde hath to such beggery driuen her And if she be as rich as Croesus was Yet if her minde be giuen to greedinesse And doth for wealth more than for honour passe And thinkes no honour but in wealthinesse In the true Rules of honours worthinesse She is as farre from true Nobilitie As an olde Churle from true Gentilitie And if she be as wise as wit can make her Yet if that wisdome doe not guide her mind Such Apish humours will so ouertake her That oftentimes she will be wilfull blinde And loose the worth that better wit might finde And then the wit that hath but folly proued Will make her little worthy to be loued Oh then let vertue gouerne beauties eye And honours loue a noble spirit Nurse Let wisdome wit to cares discretion tye And Bounty keepe the wealthy Ladies Purse So in the blisse where neuer fell a curse Perfections grace the spirit of that kinde That so can make a bodie of a minde For such a bodie of a minde so framed Containes more worth then passion can expresse Which wonder being in a woman named In honours title can deserue no lesse Then Reasons grace in Natures worthinesse Which on the earth in any one well knowne Might make her only by her selfe alone The Noble minde regards true Noblenesse And bends no eye vpon a base aspect Reiecteth pride rewardeth thankfulnesse And vnto vertue hath a chiefe affect And is not of the subtill humour'd sect But plainely sees and markes loues the hart That onely seekes for honour by desart It loues no creeping that doth sinell of craft Where faire before doth hide the fowle behinde Nor is it pleased in a sugred draft That fils the stomacke onely but with winde Nor loues a Falcon of a Buzzards kinde But like a Phoenix soaring in the Sunne Begins to liue when that her life is done It maketh patience kill each discontent And reason comforts in their kindes to measure It breedes the humour of the best intent And tels the heart what should be her chiefe treasure And but in heauen doth place the spirits pleasure It liues on earth but hath not heere her liuing While heauenly loue hath al her essēce giuing What worth hath wonne the fairest womēs fame But that which honor in the minde hath wrought And what hath wrought the truest honors frame But that which vertue in the minde hath taught To which the bodie is a thing of naught For in the minde the gratious spirit dwelleth That giues the groūd wherein each sēse excelleth The gratious glorious Queene of womankinde The virgine Marie mother of all Blisse What wonne her honour but an humble minde That shewes the vaine where truest vertue is Leading the soule it cannot goe amisse But in perfection plainely hath approued The onely life that is of God beloued Venus was faire but to Diana fowle Minerua wise till Pallas came in place But oh to match an Eagle with an Owle A baggage spirit with an Angels face Honour can neuer yeelde to such disgrace No vertues hand that giueth honours crowne Wil strike the thought of al dishonour downe Oh the true noble beautie of the minde The hearts chiefe riches and the spirits treasure That doth the soule to sacred seruice binde That only seekes in Paradise her pleasure Hath euen of heauen already made a seisure And shewes where vertue doth the wit refine It makes the creature to be knowne Diuine It makes the eye of beauty blesse true honour And honour grace the heart of humblenesse And wisdome make best wits to waite vpon her While wealth rewardeth seruice thankfulnesse And fils the minde so full of worthinesse As where such true perfections are approued Can not but be of heauen and earth beloued Penelope was constant in her loue Which to her beauty gaue a glorious grace Did not Lucretia as great honour proue Against Tarquinius in a wofull case Oh modest beautie hath a blessed face But faire and noble constant wise and kind Doe shewe an Angell in a womans minde Oh this same minde a spirit of that power That ioyes in nothing but in doing good And will omit no meane no place nor hower That may bring in the height of honours slood Caries no falshood in too faire a hoode But onely grieues at an vngratious Nature Doth in a woman make a worthy Creature Oh that same minde of true humilitie Doth gaine more grace then mountain mines of golde Where the true badge of true Nobilitie Doth shewe the honour that will euer hold While baggage humours will be bought sold Where beggers pride the Towre of Babilon Will quickly fall vnto confusion To shewe examples of our former times In true recording of those worthy mindes That would but fill my paper vp with Rimes Of commendations in deserued kindes Which wisdomes iudgement in perfection finds It were too tedious let thus much suffice To shewe the mind wherin true honour lies But as in all things contrarietie Doth shew the difference twixt the good and bad And in all humours the varietie Shewes which deserueth chiefest to be had Which makes the minde most