The conuersion of an English Courtizan.

SIth to discouer my parentage, woulde double the griefe of my lyuing Parents, and reuiue in them, the memory of my great amisse, and that my vntoward fall, would be a dishonour to the house from whence I came. Sith to ma­nifest [Page] y ^e place of my birth, would be a blemish (through my beastly life so badly misledde) to the Shyre where I was borne: sith to discourse my name, might be holden a blot in my kindreds browe, to haue a sinew in their stocke of so little grace. I will conceale my parents, kin, and Country, and shroude my name with silence, least enuie myght taunt others for my wantonnesse. Knowe therefore, I was borne about thréescore miles from London, of honest and welthy parents, who had many children, but I their onely daugh­ter, and therefore the Iewell wherein they most delighted, and more, the youngest of all, and therefore the more fauoured: for beeing gotten in the wayning of my parents age, they doted on me aboue the rest, and so set theyr harts the more on fire. I was the fairest of all, and yet not more beautifull then I was witty, in so much that beeing a pretty Parrat, I had such quaint conceipts, and witty words in my mouth, that the neighbours said, I was too soone wise, to be long olde. Woulde to God, eyther the Prouerbe had been authentical, or their sayings prophecies, then had I by death in my nonage, buried many blemishes that my riper yeeres brought me to. For the extreme loue of my parents, was the very efficient cause of my follies, resembling heer­in the nature of the Ape, that euer killeth that young one which he loueth most, with embracing it to feruētly. So my father and mother, but she most of all, although he to much, so cockered me vp in my wantonnes, that my wit grew to the worst, and I waxed vpward with the ill weedes: what soeuer I dyd, were it neuer so bad, might not be found fault withall, my Father would smyle at it, and say, twas but the tricke of a child, and my Mother allowed of my vnhap­py parts, alluding to this prophane and olde prouerbe, an vntowarde gyrle makes a good Woman.

But now I find, in sparing the rod, they hated the chyld, that ouer kind fathers, make vnruly daughters. Had they bent the wand while it had béene greene, it woulde haue beene plyant, but I, ill growne in my yéeres, am almost re­mediles. The Hawke that is most perfect for the flight and will, seldome proueth hagarde, and children that are vertu­ously [Page] nurtured in youth, will be honestly natured in age: [...]le vpon such as say, young Saints, olde deuils, it is no doubt a deuillish and damnable saying, for what is not bent in the Cradle, will hardly be bowed in the Sadle. My selfe am an instance, who after I grew to be sixe yeeres olde, was sette to Schoole, where I profited so much, that I writ and read excellently well, playd vpon the virginals, Lute & Cytron, and could sing prick-song at the first sight: in so much, as by that time I was twelue yeeres olde, I was holden for the most faire, and best qualitied young girle in all that Coun­trey, but with this, bewailed of my wel-wishers, in that my parents suffered me to be so wanton.

But they so tenderly affected mee, and were so blinded with my excellent quallities, that they had no insight into my ensuing follies. For I growing to be thirteene yeere old, feeling the rayne of liberty loose on myne owne necke, began with the wanton Heyfer, to ayme at mine own wil, and to measure content, by the sweetnes of mine owne thoughts, in so much, that pryde creeping on, I beganne to prancke my selfe with the proudest, and to holde it in dis­daine, that any in the Parish, should exceede me in brauery. As my apparrell was costly, so I grew to be licencious, and to delight to be lookt on, so that I haunted and frequented all feasts and weddings, & other places of merry meetings, where, as I was gazed on of many, so I spared no glaunces to suruiew all with a curious eye-fauour: I obserued Ouids rule right: Spectatum veniunt, veniunt spectentur vt ipse.

I went to see & be seene, and deckt my selfe in the highest degree of brau [...]rie, holding it a glory when I was wayted on with many eyes, to make censure of my birth. Beside, I was an ordinary dauncer, and grewe in that quality so fa­mous, that I was noted as the chiefest thereat in all the Country, yea, and to soothe me vp in these follies, my Pa­rents tooke a pride in my dauncing, which afterward proo­ued my ouerthrow, and their hart breaking.

Thus as an vnbridled Colte, I carelesly led foorth my youth, and wantonly spent the flower of my yeeres, holding such Maidens as were modest, fooles, and such as were not [Page] as willfully wanton as my selfe, puppies, ill brought vppe and without manners, growing on in yeeres, as tyde nor tyme tarrieth no man, I began to waxe passion-proud, and to think her not worthy to lyue, y ^• was not a little in loue, that as diuers young men began to fauour me for my beau­tie, so I beganne to censure of some of them partially, and to delight in the multitude of many wooers, beeing ready to fall from the Tree, before I was come to the perfection of a blossome, which an Unckle of myne seeing, who was my Mothers brother, as carefull of my welfare as nie to me in kinne, finding fit oportunity to talke with mee, gaue mee this wholesome exhortation.

A watch-word to wanton Maidens.

COzen, I sée the fayrest Hawke hath oftentimes the sick­kest feathers, that y ^e hotest day hath the most sharpest thunders, the brightest sunne, [...]he most suddaine showre, & the youngest Uirgins, the most daungerous fortunes, I speake as a kinsman, and wish as a friend, the blossome of a Maidens youth, (such as your selfe) hath attending vpon it many frosts to nyp it, and many cares to consume it, so that if it be not carefully lookt vnto, it will perrish before it come to any perfection.

A Uirgins honour, consisteth not onely in the gyfts of Nature, as to be fayre and beautifull, though they bee fa­uours that grace Maidens much, for as they be glistering, so they be momentary, readie to be worne with euery win­ters blast, and parched with euery Summers sunne, there is no face so fayre, but the least Moale, the slenderest skarre, the smallest brunt of sicknesse, will quickly ble­mishe.

Beauty Cozen, as it florisheth in youth, so it fadeth in age, it is but a folly that feedeth mans eye, a painting that Nature lendes for a tyme, and men allowe on for a while, in so much, that such as onely ayme at your faire lookes, tye but their loues to an apprentishippe of beauty, which broken eyther with cares, misfortune, or yeeres, their [Page] destnies are at liberty, and they beginne to lothe you, and like of others.

Then Cozin, stand not too much on such a slippery glo­rie, that is as brittle as glasse, bee not proude of beauties painting, that hatched by tyme, perrisheth in short tyme, neyther are Women the more admirable of wise men for theyr gay apparrell, though fooles are fed with gards, for a womans ornaments, is the excellencie of her vertues: and her inward good qualities, are of farre more worth then her outward braueries, imbroydred hayre, bracelets, silkes: rich attire, and such trash, doo rather bring the name of a young Maide in question, then adde to her same any title of honour.

The Vestall Uirgins were not reuerenced of the Se­nators for their curious clothing, but for their chastitie. Cornelia was not famozed for ornaments of golde, but for excellent vertues. Superfluity in apparrell, sheweth rather lightnes of mind, then it importeth any other inward good quality: and men iudge of Maydens rarenesse, by the mo­destie of their rayment, holding it rather garish then glori­ous, to be trickt vp in superstuous and excéeding braueries. Neither Cozen is it seemely for Maydes, to iet abroade, or to frequent too much company.

For shée that is looked on by many, cannot chuse but bee hardly spoken of by some, for report hath a blister on her tongue, and Maydens actions are narrowly measured. Therefore woulde not the auncient Romaines, suffer theyr Daughters, to goe any further then theyr Mothers lookes guided them. And therefore Diana is painted with a Tortuse vnder her feete, meaning, that a Maid shoulde not be a stragler, but like the Snayle, carry her house on her heade; and keepe at home at her worke, so to keepe her name without blemish, and her vertues from the slaunder of enuie.

[Page] A maide that hazards herselfe in much company, may venture the fréedome of her hart by the folly of her eye, for so long the pot goes to the water, that it comes broken home, and such as looke much must néedes like at last: the Fly dal­lyes with a flame, but at length she burneth, flax and fire put together will kindle, a maid in companie of yonge men shall be constrayned to listen to the wanton allurements of many cunning speeches: if she hath not eyther with Vlisses tasted of Moly, or stopt her eares warily, shee may either bee enti­sed with the Syrens, or enchanted by Cyrces, youth is apt to yeeld to swéet perswasions, and therfore cozen thinke no­thing more daungerous than to gad abr [...]ade, neither cozen doe I allowe this wanton dauncing in younge virgins, tis more comendation for them to moderate their manners, than to measure their féete, and better to heare nothing than to listen vnto vnreuerent Musicke: Sylence is a precious Iewell, and nothing so much worth as a couetenaunce full of chastitie, light behauiour is a signe of lewd thoughts, and men will say, there goes a wanton that will not want one, if a place and person were agréeable to her desires: if a mai­dens honor be blemisht, or her honestie cald in question, she is halfe deflowred, and therefore had maidens neede to bee chary, least enuy report them for vnchast. Cozen I speake this generally, which if you apply particularly to your selfe, you shall find in time my words were well saide.

I gaue him slender thankes, but with such a frump that he perceiued how light I made of his counsayle: which hee perceiuing, shakt his head, and with teares in his eyes de­parted. But I whom wanton desires had drawne in delight, still presumde in my former follies, and gaue my selfe either to gad abroad, or else at home to read dissolute Pamphlets, which bred in mee many ill affected wishes, so that I gaue leaue to loue and lust to enter into the center of my heart, where they harboured tyll they wrought my finall and fa­tall preiudice.

Thus leading my life loosely, and being soothed vp with the applause of my too kind and louing parents, I had many of euery degrée that made loue vnto me, as wel for my beau­ty, [Page] as for the hope of wealth that my father would bestowe vpon mee: sundry sutors I had, and I allowed of all, though I particularly graunted loue to none, yéelding them friendly fauors, as being proud I had more wooers then any maid in the parish beside: amongst the rest there was a welthy Far­mer that wished me well, a man of some forty yeeres of age, one too worthy for one of so little worth as my selfe, and him my father, mother, and other friendes, would haue had mee match my selfe withall: but I that had had the raynes of ly­bertie too long in mine owne hands, refused him and would not bee ruled by their perswasions, and though my mother with teares entreated mee to consider of mine owne estate, & how wel I sped if I wedded with him, yet carelesly I des­pised her counsayle, and flatly made aunswere that I would none of him: which though it pinched my Parentes at the quicke, yet rather than they would displease me, they left me [...] in mine own liberty to loue. Many there were beside him, mens sons of no meane worth, that were wooers vnto mee, but in vaine, either my fortune or destenie dro [...]e me to a worser ende, for I re [...]used them all, and with the Beetle, re­fusing to light on the swéetest flowers all day, nestled at night in a Cowsheard.

It fortuned that as many sought to win me, so amongst the rest there was an od companion that dwelt with a Gen­tleman hard by, a fellowe of small reputation, and of no ly­uing, neither had he any excellent quallities but thrumming on the gittron: but of pleasant disposition he was, and could gawll out many quaint & ribadrous Iigges & songs, and so was fauoured of the [...]oolish sect for his foppery. This shifting companion, sutable to my selfe in vanitie, would oft [...] times be iesting with me, and I so long dallying with him, that I beganne déepely (oh let me blush at this confession) to fall in loue with him, and so construed of all his actions, that I con­sented to mine owne ouerthrowe: for as smoake will hard­ly be concealed, so loue will not bee long smothred, but will bewray her owne secrets, which was manifest in mee, who in my sporting with him, so bewrayed my affection, that hee spying I fauoured him, began to strike when the yron was [Page] hotte, and to take opportunitie by the forehead, and one day finding me in a merry vaine, began to question with me of loue, which although at the first I slenderly denyed him, yet at last I graunted, so that not onely I agréed to plight him my faith, but that night méeting to haue farther talke, I las­ciuiously consented that he cropt the flower of my virginity. When thus I was spoyled by such a base companion, I gaue my selfe to content his humor, and to satisfie the sweet of mine owne wanton desires. Oh heare let me breath and with teares vewaile the beginning of my miseries, and to exclayme against the folly of my Parents, who by too much fauouring mee in my vanitie in my tender youth, layde the first plot of my ensuing repentance: Had they with due cor­rection chastised my wantonnesse, and supprest my foolish will with their graue aduise, they had made mee more ver­tuous and themselues lesse sorrowfull. A fathers frowne is a bridle to the childe, and a mothers checke is a stay to the stubhorne daughter. Oh had my parents in ouerlouing mee not hated me, I had not at this time cause to complaine. Oh had my father regarded the saying of the wise man, I had not beene thus woe begone.

If thy daughter bee not shamefast holde her straightly, least shee abuse her selfe through ouer-much libertie.

Take heede of her that hath an vnshamefast eye, & mar­uell not if she trespasse against thee.

The daughter maketh the father to watch secretly, and the carefulnesse he hath for her, taketh away his sleepe.

In her virginitie, least shee should be deflowred in her fa­thers house.

If therefore thy daughter be vnshamefast in her youth, keepe her straightlie, least shee cause thine enemies to laugh thee to scorne, and make thee a common talke in the Cittie, and defame thee among the people, and bring thee to pub­lique shame.

Had my parentes with care considered of this holy coun­saile, and leuelied my life by the load-stone of vertue: had they lookt narrowly into the faultes of my youth, and bent the trée while it was a wand, and taught the hound while he [Page] was a puppie, this blemish had neuer befortuned me [...] nor so great dis­honour had not befallen them. Then by my example, let all Parents take head, least in [...]ouing their children too tenderly, they [...] them vtterly, least in manuring the ground too much with the vnskilful hus­bandman, it were too fat, and bring foorth more wee [...]s then floures, least cookering their children vnder their winges without correction, they make them carelesse, and bring them to destruction, as their [...]r­ture is in youth, so will their nature grow in age. If the Palme tree be supprest while it is a sien, it wil contrary to nature be crooked when it is a Tree.

If then vertue be to be ingrafted in youth. least they prooue obsti­uate in age, reforme your children betimes both with correction and counsaile, so shall you that are parentes glorie in the honour of their good indeuours, but leauing this digression, againe to the loosenesse of mine owne life, who now hauing lost the glorie of my youth, and suffered such a base slaue to possesse it, which many men of woorth had desired to enioy, I waxed hold in sin & grew shameles, in so much he could not desire so much as I did grant, whereupon, seeing hee durst not reueale it to my father to demand me in marriage, hee resolued to carry me away secretly, and therefore wisht me to prouide for my selfe, and to furnish mee euery way both with money and apparrell, hoping as he sayd, that after we were departed, and my father saw wee were married, and that no meanes was to amend it, he would giue his free consent, and vse vs as kindly, and deale with vs as liberally as if wee had matcht with his good wil. I that was apt to anyil, agreed to this, and so wrought the matter, that hee carried mee away into a straunge place, and then vsing me a while as his wife, when our mony began to wax low, he resolued secretly to go into the Country where my father dwelt, to heare not only how my father tooke my departure, but what hope we had of his ensuing fauour, although I was loath to be left a­lone in a strange place, yet I was willing to heare from my friendes, who no doubt conceiued much heart sorrow for my vnhappy fortunes, so that I parted with a few teares, and enioyned him, to make all the hast he might to returne, hee being gone, as the Eagles alwaies resort where the carrion is, so the brute being spred abroad of my bewtie, and [Page] that at such an Inne laie such a fatre yoong Gentlewoman, there re­sorted thither many braue youthfull Gentlemen and cutting compa­nions, that tickled with lust, aymed at the possession of my fauour, and by sundry meanes sought to haue a sight of me, which I easily graun­ted to all, as a woman that counted it a glory to be wondred at by ma­ny mens eyes, insomuch that comming amongst them, I set their harts more and more on fire, that there rose diuers brawles who should bee most in my company, beeing thus haunted by such a troupe of lustie Ruffiers, I beganne to finde mine owne folly, that had placst my first affection so losely, and therefore beganne as deeply to loath him that was departed, as earst I likte him, when hee was present, vowing in my selfe though hee had the spoyle of my virginitie, yet neuer after should he triumph in the possession of my fauour, and therfore beganne I to affection these new come guests, and one aboue the rest, who was a braue yoong Gentleman, and no lesse addicted vnto mee, then I de­uoted vnto him, for daily hee courted mee with amorous Sonnets and curious proude letters, and sent me Iewels, and all that I might grace him with the name of my seruant, I returned him as louyng [...]nes at last, and so contented his lusting desire, that secretly and vn­knowne to all the rest, I made him sundry nights my bedfellow, where I so bewitcht him with sweet wordes, that the men began deepely to doate vpon me, insomuch that selling some portion of land that he had, hee put it into readie money, and prouiding Horse and all things con­uenient, carried mee secretly away, almost as farre as the Bathe. This was my second choyce and my second shame, thus I went for­ward in wickednesse and delighted in chaunge, hauing left mine olde loue to looke after some other mate more fit for her purpose, how hee tooke my departure when hee returned I little cared, for now I had my content, a Gentleman, yoong, lustie, and indned with good qual­lities, and one that loued mee more tenderly then himselfe, thus liued this new entertained friend and I togither vnmarried, yet as man and wife for a while, so louingly as was to his content and my cre­dite, but as the Tygre though for a while shee hide her clawee, yet at last shee will reueale her crueltie, and as the Agnus Castus leafe when it lookes most drye, is then most full of moysture, so womens wantonnesse is not quallified by their warinesse, nor doo their chari­nesse for a moneth, warrant their chastitie for euer, which I prooued true, for my supposed husband beeing euery way a man of worth could [Page] not so couertly hide himselfe in the country, though a stranger, but that he fel in acquaintance with many braue Gentlemen whom he brought home to his lodging, not only to honour them with his liberall courte­sie, but also to see mee being proude of any man of woorth, applaw­ded my beautie. Alas poore Gentleman, too much bewitcht by the wilinesse of a woman, had hee deemed my heart to bee a harbour for e­uery new desire, or mine eye a suter to euerie new face, hee would not haue beene so fonde as to haue brought his companions into my com­pany, but rather would haue mewed mee vp as a He [...]ne, to haue kept that seuerall to himselfe by force, which hee could not retaine by kind­nesse, but the houest minded Nouice little suspected my chaunge, al­though I God wot placed my delight, in nothing more then the desire of new choyce, which fell out thus. Amongst the rest of the Gentle­men that kept him company, there was one that was his most fami­liar, and hee reposed more trust and confidence in him then in all the rest, this Gentleman beganne to bee deepely inamoured of mee, and shewed it by many signes which I easily perceiued, and I whose eare was pliant to euery sweete word, and who so allowed of all that were bewtifull, affected him no lesse, so that loue preuailing aboue friend­ship, hee broake the matter with mee, and made not many suites in vaine before hee obteined his purpose, for hee had what hee wisht, and I had what contented mee, I will not confesse that any of the rest had some sildome fauours, but this Gentleman was my second selfe; and I loued him more for the time at the heele, then the other at the heart, so that though the other youth beare the charges and was sir pay for all, yet this newe friend was hee that was maister of my affections, which kindnesse betwixt vs, was so vnwisely cloaked, that in short time it was manifest to all our familiars which made my supposed husband to sigh and others to smile, but hee that was hit with the horne was pincht at the heart, yet so extreame was the affection hee bare to mee, that he had rather conceale his greefe, then any way make me discon­tent, so that hee smoothered his sorrow with patience, and brookt the miurie with silence, till our loues grew so broad before, that it was a woonder to the worlde, whereupon one day at dinner, I being verie pleasant with his chosen friend and my choyce louer, I know not how, but either by fortune, or it may be some set match, there was by a gen­tleman, there present a question popt in about womens passions, and their mutabilitie in affection, so that the controuersie was defended, [Page] pro & contra, which arguments, whether a woman might haue a se­cond friend or no, at last it was concluded, that loue and Lordshippe brookes no fellowship, and therefore none so base minded to beare ari­uall. Hereupon arose a question about friendes that were put in trust, how it was a high point of treason, for one to betray an other, especial­ly in loue, in so much that one gentleman at the boord, protested by a solemne oath, that if any friend of his made priuie and fauoured witly the sight of his mistresse whom hee loued, whether it were his wife or no, should secretly seeke to incroach into his roome and offer him that dishonour to partake his loue, he would not vse any other reuenge, but at the next greeting stabbe him with his Poynado, though hee were coudemned to death for the action. All this fitted for the humor of my supposed husband, and strooke both mee and my friend into a quanda­rie, but I scornfully iested at it, when as my husband taking the ball before it fel to the ground, began to make a long discourse what faith­lesse friends they were that would faile in loue, especially where a re­solued trust of the partie beloued was committed vnto them, and here­vpon to make the matter more credulous, and to quip my folly, and to taunt the basenesse of his friends minde, that so he might with curte­sie both warne vs of our wantonnes, and [...]eclaime vs from ill, he pro­mised to tell a pleasant storie performed as hee sayd not long since in England, and it was to this effect.

A pleasant discourse, how a wise wanton by her husbands gen­tle warning, became to be a modest Matron.

THere was a Gentleman (to giue him his due) an Esquire heere in England, that was married to a yoong Gentlewoman, faire and of a modest behauiour, vertuous in her lookes, how soeuer she was in her thoughts, and one that euery veay with her dutifull indeuour and outward apparance of honestie, did breed her husbands content, inso­much that the Gentleman so deeply affected her, as he counted al those houres ill spent which he past not away in her company, besotting so himselfe in the beautie of his wife, that his onely care was to haue her euery way delighted, liuing thus pleasantly togither, he had one spe­tiall friend amongst the rest, whom he so dearly affected, as euer Da­mon [Page] did his Pythias, Pliades his Orestes, or Tytus his Gisippus, he vnfolded all his secrets in his bosome, and what passion hee had in his minde that either ioyed him or perplexed him, he reuealed vnto his friend, & directed his actious according to the sequel of his counsailes so that they were two bodies and oue soule. This Gentleman for all the iuward fauour showne him by his faithful friend, could not so with­stand the force [...]f fancy, but he grew enamoured of his friendes wife, whom he courted with many sweet words and [...]aire pr [...]nises, chorms that are able to inchant almost the chastest eares, and so subtilly cou­ched his arguments, discouered such loue in his eyes, and such sorrow in his lookes, that dispaire seemed to sit in his face, and swo [...]e, that if shee granted not him Le don du merci, the end of a louers [...] would present his hart as a Tragick sacrifice to the sight of his [...] mistresse, the Gentlewoman waxing pitifull, as women are [...] [...] ­ted and are loth Gentlemen should die for loue, after a few excuses [...] him dub her husband knight of the forked order, and so to satisfie his humor, made for feyt of her owne honor. Thus these two louers conti­nued by a great space in such plesures as vnchast wantons count their felicitie, hauing continually fit opportunitie to exercise their wi [...] purpose, sith the gentleman himself did giue them free libertie to lo [...] neither suspecting his wife, or suspecting his friend, at last, as such traytrous abuses will burst foorth, it fell so out, that a [...]yd who had been an old seruant in the house, began to grow suspitious, that there was too much familiaritie betweene her mistresse and her maisters friend, and vpon this watcht them diuers times so narrowly, that at last she sound them more priuiate then either agreed with her maisters honor, or her owne honestie, and thereupon reuealed it one day vnto her maister, he little credulous of the light behauiour of his wife, blamed the mayd and bad her take heed, least she sought to blemish her vertues with slaunder, whom hee loued more tenderly then his owne life, the mayd replied, that she spake not of enuy to him, but of meere loue she heare vnto him, and the rather that hee might shadow such a fault in time, and by some meanes preuent it, least if others should note it as well as shee, his wiues good name and his friends should bee cald in question, at these wise words spoken by so base a drug as his mayd, the Gentleman waxed astonished and listened to her discourse, wishing her to discouer how she knew or was so priuy to the folly of her mistresse, or by what meanes he might haue assured proofe of it, shee tolde him [Page] that to her, her owne eyes were witnesses, for shee saw them vnlaw­fully togither, and please it you sir quoth shee, to faine your selfe to go from home, and then in the backhouse to keepe you secret, I will let you see as much as I haue manifested vnto you, vpon this the maister agreed, and warnd his mayd not so much as to make it knowne to any of her fellowes. Within a day or two after, the Gentleman sayd, hee would goe a huntiug and fo rise verie early, and causing his men to couple vp his Honndes, left his wife in bed and went abroad, assoone as he was gone a myle from the house, he commanded his men to ryde afore and to start the Hare and follow the chase, and wee will come faire and softly after, they obeying their maisters charge, went theyr wayes, and he returned by a backway to his house, and went secretly to the place where his mayd and he had appointed. In the meane time, the mistresse thinking her husband safe with his Houndes, sent for he [...] friend to her bed chamber, by a trustie seruant of hers, in whom shee assured that was a secret Pander in such affaires, and the Gent [...]eman was not stacke to come, but making all the haste hee could, came and went into the chamber, asking for the Maister of the house very famili­arly, the old mayd noting all this, assoone as she knew them togither, went and cald her maister and carried him vp by a secret pair of staires to her mistresse chamber doore, where peeping in at a place that the mayd before had made for the purpose, he saw more then he lookt for, and so much as pincht him at the very heart, causing him to accuse his wife for a strumpet and his friend for a traytor, yet for all this, valu­ing his owne honour more then their dishonestie, thinking if he should make an vprore, he should but ayme at his owne discredite, and cause himself to be a laughing game to his enemies, he concealed his sorrow with silence, and taking the mayd apart, charged her to keepe all se­cret, whatsoeuer she had seene, euen as she esteemed of her owne life, for if shee did bewray it to any, hee himselfe would with his Swoord make an ende of her daies, and with that putting his hand in his sleeue, gaue the poore mayd sixe Angels to buy her a new gowne, the wench glad of this gift, swore solemnely to tread it vnder foote, and sith it pleased him to conseale it, neuer to reueale it as long as she liued, vp­on this they parted, she to her drudgery, and he to the field to his men, where after hee had kild the Hare, hee returned home, and finding his friend in the Garden, that in his absence had been grafting hornes in the Chunnies, and entertained him with his woonted familiaritie, and shewed no bad countenance to his wife, but dissembled al his thoughts [Page] to the full. Assoone as dinner was done, and that he was gotten solita­rie by himselfe, he beganne to determine of reuenge, but not as euerie man would haue done, how to haue brought his wife to shame, & her loue to confusion, but he busied his braines how hee might reserue his honour inuiolate, reclaime his wife, and keep his friend, meditating a long time how he might bring all this to passe, at last a humour fell in­to his head, how cunningly to compasse all three and therefore he went & got him a certaine slips, which are counterfeyt peeces of mony being brasse, & couered ouer with siluer, which the common people call slips, hauing furnished himselfe with these, hee put them in his purse, and at night went to bed as he was wont to doo, yet not vsing the kind fami­liaritie that he accustomed, notwithstanding he abstained not from the vse of her body, but knew his wife as afore times, and euery time hee committed the act with her, he layd the next morning in the window a slip, where hee was sure shee might finde it, and so many times as it pleased him to be carnally pleasant with his wife, so many slips he still layd down vpon her cushnet. This he vsed for the space of a fortnight, till at last, his wife finding euery day a slip, or sometime more or lesse, wondred how they came there, and examining her wayting maydes, none of them could tell her any thing touching them, whereupon shee thought to question with her husband about it, but being out of her re­membrance, the next morning as he & she lay dallying in bed, it came into her minde, and she asked her husband if he layd those slippes on her cushnet, that she of late found there, hauing neuer seene any before. I marry did I quoth hee, and I haue layd them there vpon speciall rea­son, and it is this. Euer since I haue been married to thee, I haue dee­med thee honest, and therefore vsed and honored thee as my wife, par­ting coequall fauours betwixt vs as true loues, but alate finding the contrary, & with these eyes seeing thee play the whore with my friend in whom I did repose all my trust, I sought not as many would haue done, to haue reuenged in blood, but for the safetie of mine own honor, which otherwise would haue been blemisht by thy dishonestie, I haue bin silent, and haue neyther wronged my quandom friend, nor abused thee, but still do hold bed with thee, that the world shall not suspect a­ny thing, and to quench the desire of lust I do vse thy bodie, but not so louingly as I would a wife, but carelesly as I would a strumpet, and therefore euen as to a whoore, so I giue thee hyer, which is for euerie time a slip, a counterfect coyne, which is good inough for such a slippe­rie wanton, that will wrong her husband that loued her so tenderly, [Page] and thus wil I vse thee for the safetie of mine owne honour, til I haue assured proofe that thou beco [...]est honest, and thus with teares in his eyes and his heart readie to burst with sighes, he was silent, when his wife striken with remorse of conscience, leapi [...] out of her bedde in her smocke, humbly confessing all, craued pardon promising if he should pardon this offence which was new begun in [...], shee would become anew reformed woman, and neuer after so much as in thought, giue him any occasion of suspition or ielousie, the patient husband not wil­ling to vrge his wife, tooke her at her word, and told her that when he found her so reclaimed, he would as afore he had done, vse her louing­ly and as his wife, but till he was so perswaded of her honestie, he wold pay her stil [...]lips for his pleasure, charging her not to reueale any thing to his friend, or to make it knowne to him that hee was priuy to their loues. Thus the debate ended, I gesse in some kinde greeting, and the Gentleman went abroad to see his pastures, leauing his wife in bed full of sorrow and almost renting her heart asunder with sighs, assoone as he was walked abroad, the Gentleman his friend came to the house and asked for the goodman, the pander that was priuy to all their prac­tises, said, that his maister was gone abroad to see his pastures, but his mistresse was in bed, why then saies he, I will go and raise her vp, so comming into the chamber and kissing her, meaning as hee was wont to haue vsed other accustomed dalliance, shee desired him to abstaine with broken sighes & her eyes full of teares, he wondring what should make her thus discontent, asked her what was the cause of her sorow, protesting with a solemne oath, that if any had done her iniury, he wold reuenge it, were it with hazard of his life, she then tolde him scarce be­ing able to speake for weeping, that shee had a sute to mooue him in, which if he granted vnto her, she would hold him in loue and affection without change next her husband foreuer, he promised to do whatsoe­uer it were, then saies she, sweare vpon a Byble you will do it without exception, with that he tooke a Byble that laie in the window & swore, that whatsoeuer she requested him to do, were it to the losse of his life, he would without exception performe it. Then she holding downe her head and blushing, began thus. I need not quoth shee make manifest how grosly and greeuously you and I haue both offended God, and wronged the honest Gentleman my husband and your friend, hee put­ting a speciall trust in vs both, & assuring such earnest affiance in your vnfained friendship, that hee euen committeth me his wife, his loue, [Page] his second life, into your bosome, this loue haue [...] constancy, in playing the harlot, that saith that he [...] you returned with trechery and falshood, in abusing mine honesty and his honor, now a remorse of conscience toucheth me for my sinnes, that I hartily repent, and vow euer hereafter to liue onely to my husband, and therefore my sute is to you, that from hencefoorth you shall neuer so much as motion any dishonest question vnto mee, nor seeke any vn­lawfull pleasure or conuersing at my handes this is my sute, and here­unto I haue sworne you, which oath if you obserue as a faithfull gen­tleman, I will conceale from my husband what is past, and rest in ho­nest sort your faithfull friend for euer, at this shee burst a fresh into teares, and vttered such sighes, that he thought for very griefe her hart would haue claue asunder. The gentleman astonied at this straunge Metamorphesis of his mistresse, sat a good while in a maze, and at last taking her by the hand, made this reply, so God helpe mee faire swee­ting, I am glad of this motion, and wondrous ioyfull that God hath put such honest thoughts into your mind, & hath made you the meanes to reclaime me from my folly, I feele no lesse remorse then you doo, in wronging so honest a friend as your husband, but this is the frailnesse of man, and therefore to make amends, I protest a new, neuer hereaf­ter so much as in thought, as to motion you of dishonestie, onely I craue you be silent, she promised that and so they ended. And so for that time they parted, at noone the gentleman came home and cheerfully saluted his wife and asked if dinner were ready, and sent for his friend, vsing him wonderfully familiarly, giuing him no occasion of mistrust, and so pleasantly they past away the day togither, at night when his wife and he went to bed, shee told him all, what had past betweene her and his friend, and how she had bound him with an oath, and that hee voluntarily of himselfe swore, as much being hartily sory that hee had so deepely offended so kinde a friend, the gentleman commended her wit, and found her afterward a reclaimed woman, shee liuing so ho­nestly that she neuer gaue him any occasion of mistrust. Thus the wise gentleman reclaimed with silence a wanton wife, and retained an as­sured friend.

At this pleasant Tale all the boord was at a mutinie, and they said the gentleman did passing wisely that wrought so cunningly for the safetie of his owne honor, but highly exclaiming against such a friend [Page] as would to his friend offer such villany, all condemning her that wold be false to so louing a husband. Thus they did diuersly descant & past away dinner, but this Tale wrought litle effect in me, for as one past grace, I delighted in chaunge, but the gentleman that was his fami­liar and my Paramour, was so touched, that neuer after hee would touch me dishonestly, but reclaimed himselfe, abstained from me and became true to his friend, I wondring that according to his woonted custome, he did not seeke my company, he and I being one day in the chamber alone, and he in his dumpes, I began to dally with him, and to aske him why he was so straunge, and vsed not his accustomed fa­uours to me. He solemnely made answere, that though he had playd the foole in setting his fancy vpon an other mans wife, & in wronging his friend, yet his conscience was now touched with remorse, & euer since he heard the Tale afore rehearsed, hee had vowed in himselfe ne­uer to do my husband the like wrong againe: my husband quoth I, he is none of mine, he hath brought me from my friends and keepes mee here vnmarried, and therefore am I as free for you as for him, & thus began to grow clamorous, because I was debard of my lust, the gen­tleman seeing me shamelesse, wisht me to be silent, and sayd, although you be but his friend, yet he hold you as deare as his wife, and therfore I will not abuse him, neither would I wish you to be familiar with a­ny other, seeing you haue a friend that loues you so tenderly, much good counsaile he gaue me, but all in vaine, for I scorned it, and began to hate him, and resolued both to be ridde of him and my supposed hus­band, for falling in an other familiar of my husbands, I so inueagled him with sweet words, that I caused him to make a peece of mony to steale me away, and so carry me to London, where I had not liued long with him, ere he seeing my light behauiour, left mee to the world, and to shift for my selfe. Here by my example may you note the inconstant life of Courtezens and common harlots, who after they haue lost their honestie, care not who grow into their fauour, nor what villany they commit, they fancy all as long as crownes last, and only ayme at plea­sure and ease, they cleaue like Caterpillars to the tree, and consume the fruit where they fall, they be Vultures that praie on men aliue, and like the Serpent sting the bosome wherein they are nourished. I may best discourse their nature, because I was one of their profession, but now beeing metamorphosed, I holde it meritorious for mee to warne women from being such wantons, and to giue a caueat to men, least [Page] they addict themselues to such stragling strumpettes, as loue none, though they like all, but affectionate only for profit, and when he hath spent all, they beate him out of doores with the prodigall childe, but stopping heere, till occasion serue mee fitter to discouer the ma [...]ner of Courtizins, to my selfe, who now being brought to London, and left here at randon, was not such a housedoue while any friend stated with me, but that I had visite some houses in London, that could harbour as honest a woman as my selfe, when as therefore I was left to my selfe, I remoued my lodging, and gat mee into one of those houses of good hospitalitie whereunto persons resort, commonly called a Trug­ging house, or to be plaine, a whorse house, where I gaue my selfe to entertaine al companions, sitting or standing at the doore like a staule, to allure or draw in wanton passengers, refusing none that wold with his pursepurchase me to be his, to satisfie the disordinate desire of his filthie lust, now I began not to respect parsonage, good qualities, to the gratious fauour of the man, when eye had no respect of person, for the oldest lecher was as welcom as the yangest louer, so he broght meate in his mouth, otherwise I pronounce against him.

I waxed thus in this hell of voluptuousnes, daily worse & worse, yet hauing as they terme it, a respect to the maine chance as neare as I could to auoyd diseases, and to keepe my selfe braue in apparell, al­though I pay [...] a kind of tribute to the Bawde, according as the num­ber and benefite of my companions did exceed, but neuer could I bee brought to be a pickpocket or theeuish, by any of their perswasions, al­though I wanted daily no instructions to allure me to that villany, for I thinke nature had wrought in me a contrary humor, otherwise my bad nourture and conuersing with such bad company, had brought me to it, mary in all their vices I carried a brazen face & was shamelesse, for what Ruffian was there in London, that would vtter mor edespe­rate oaths then I in mine anger, what to spet, quaffe, or carouse more diuellishly or rather damnable then my selfe, & for beastly communica­tion, Messalyna of Rome might haue bin wayting mayd, besides, I grew so grafted in sin, that Consueto peccandit ollebat sensum peccati, Custome of sin, tooke away the feeling of the sin, for I so accustomably vse my selfe to all kinde of vice, that I accounted swearing no sinne, whordome, why I smile at that, and could prophanely saie, that it was a sin which God laught at, gluttony I held good fellowship, & wrath [Page] honor and resolution, I dispised God, nay in my conscience I might easily haue been persuaded there was no God, I contemned the prea­chers, and when any wisht mee to reforme my life, I [...]ad away with the Puritan, and if any yoong woman refused to be as vitious euerie way as my selfe, I would then say, gip fine soule, a yoong Saint will prooue an old diuel; I neuer would go to the Church and Sermons, I vtterly refused, holding them as needles Tales told in a Pulpit, I would not [...]end mine eares to the hearing of any good discourse. but still delighted in iangling Ditties of ryhaudrie, thus to the greefe of my friendes, hazard of my soule, and consuming of my bodie, I spent a yeare or two in this base and bad kinde of life, subiect to the whistle of euerie desperate Ruffian, till on a time, there resorted to our house a Cloathier, a propper yoong man, who by fortune, comming first to drinke, espying mee, asked mee if I would drinke with him, there nee­ded no great intreatie, for as then I wanted company, and so clapt me downe by him, and began verie pleasantly then to welcome him, the man being of himselfe modest and honest, noted my personage, and iu­ditially reasoned of my strumpetlike behauiour, and inwardly as after he reported vnto mee, greeued that so foule properties were hidden in so good a proportion, and that such rare wit and excellent bewtie, was blemisht with whoredomes base deformitie, in so much that hee began to think well of me, and to wish that I were as honest as I was bew­tifull. Againe, see how God wrought for my conuersion, since I gaue my selfe to my loose kinde of life, I neuer liked any so well as him, in­so much that I began to iudge of euerie part, and me thought he was the properest man that euer I saw, thus we sat both amorous of other, I lasciuiously, & he honestly, at last he questioned with me what coun­try woman I was, and why being so proper a woman, I would beseem to dwel or lie in a base Alehouse, especially in one that had a bad name, I warrant you hee wanted no kna [...]ish reply to [...]it him, for I tolde him the house was as honest as his mothers, marry if there were in it a good wench or two, that would pleasure their friends at a neede, A gesse by his n [...]ase what porredge hee loued, and that hee hated none such, well, seeing mee in that voice hee said little, but shaked his head, payd for the beere and went his way, only taking his leaue of me with a kisse, which me thought was the sweetest that euer was giuen mee, assoone as hee was gone, I began to thinke what a handsome man hee w [...]s, and wisht that he wold come and take a nights lodging with me, [Page] sitting in a dump to thinke of the quaint [...]es of his personage, til other compan [...]s came in, that shakte mee out of that melancholie, but as­soone againe as I was secrete to my selfe, hee came into my remem­brance, passing ouer thus a day or two, this Cloathier came againe to our house, whose sight cheared mee vp, for that spying him out at a Casement, I came downe the staires and met him at the doore, and hartily welcomed him, & asked him if he wold drinke, I come for that purpose saies he, but I will drinke no more below but in a Chamber, marry sir quoth I you shal and so brought him into the fairest roome, in their sitting there togither drinking, at last the Cl [...]athier fell to kis­sing and other dalliance, wherein he found me not coy, at last told mee that he would willingly haue his pleasure of mee, but the roome was too lightsome, for of all things in the world, he cou [...] not in such acti­ons away with a light Chamber, I consented vnto him, and brought him into a roome more darke, but still hee said it was too light, then I carried him into a farther Chamber, where drawing a buckeram cut­tain afore the window, and closing the curtaines of the bed, I asked him smiling, if that were close inough, no sweet loue saies he, the curtain is thin & not broad inough for the window, peradu [...] some watch [...] eye may espie vs, my hartmisdoubts, & my credit is my life, good loue if thou hast a more close room then this, bring me to [...], why then quoth I follow me, & with that I brought him into a backe loft, where stood a litle bed only appointed to lodge suspitious persons, so darke that at noone daies it was impossible for any man to see his owne hands, how now sir quoth I, is not this darke inough, he sitting him downe on the bed side, fetcht a deep sigh, & said indifferēt, so, so, but there is a glimpse of light in at the tyles, some bodie may by fortune see vs, in faith [...] quoth I, none but God, God saies hee, why can God see vs here, good sir quoth I, why I hope you are not so simple, but Gods eyes are so cleare, and penetrating, that they can peirce through wals of brasse, and that were we inclosed neuer so secretly, yet we are manifestly seene to him, and alas quoth he sweet loue, if God see vs shal we not be more a­shamed to do [...] such a filthy act before him then before men, I am sure thou art not so shameles but thou woldst blush & be afraid to haue the meanest commoner in London see thee in the actiō of thy filthy lust, and doest thou not shame more to haue God, the maker of all thinges see thee, who reuengeth sin with death, he whose eyes are clearer then the Sun, who is the searcher of the heart, and holdeth vengeance in his [Page] handes to punish sinners. Consider sweete loue, that if man and wife would be ashamed to haue any of their friendes see them in the act of generation, or performing the rightes of marriage which is lawfull, and allowed before God, yet for modestie do it in the most couert they may, then how impudent or gracelesse should we bee, to fulfill our fil­thie lust before the eyes of the Almighty, who is greater then all kings or princes on the earth. Oh let vs tremble that we but once durst haue such wanton communication in the hearing of his diuine Maiesty, who pronounceth damnation for such as giue themselues ouer to adultery. It is not possible saith the Lorde, for any whoremaister or lasciuious wanton, to enter into the kingdome of God, for such sinnes whole Ci­ties haue suncke, kingdomes haue beene destroyed, and though God suffreth such wicked liuers to escape for a while, yet at length he pay­eth home, in this world with beggarie, shame, diseases, or infamy, and in the other life, with perpetuall dampuation, weigh but the inconue­nience that growes through thy loose life, thou art [...]ted of all that are good, despised of the vertuons, and only well thought of, of reprobats, raskals, ruffians, and such as the world hates, subiect to their lust, and gaining thy liuing at the hands of euery diseased leacher. Oh what a miserable trade of life is thine that liuest of the vomit of sin, in hunting after maladies, but suppose, while thou art yoong, thou art fauoured of thy companions, when thou waxest old, and that thy beautie is va­ded, then thou shalt be loathed and despised, euen of them that profest most loue vnto thee, then good sister call to minde the basenesse of thy life, the hainous outrage of thy sin, that God doth punish it with the ri­gor of his iustice, oh thou art made bewtifull, faire, and well fourmed, and wilt thou then by thy filthie lust make thy bodie, which if thou bee honest, is the Temple of God, the habitation of the diuel. Consider this, and call to God for mercy, and amend thy life, leaue this house, and I will become thy faithfull friend in all honestie, and vse thee as mine owne sister, at this, such a remorse of conscience, such a fearefull terror of my sin strooke into my minde, that I kneeled downe at his feete, and with teares besought him he would helpe me out of that mi­sery, for his exhortation had caused in me a loathing of my wicked life, and I wold not only become a reformed woman, but hold him as dear as my father that gaue me life, where upon he kist me with teares, and so we went downe togither, where wee had further communication, and presently he prouided me an other lodging, where I not only vsde [Page] my selfe so honestly, but also was so penitent euery day in teares for my former folly, that he tooke me to his wife, and how I haue liued since and loathed filthie lust, I referre my selfe to the Maiestie of God, who knoweth the secrets of all hearts.

Thus Country men I haue publisht the conuersion of an Eng­lish Courtizen, which if any way it bee profitable either to forewarne youth, or withdraw bad persons to goodnesse, I haue the whole end of my desire, only crauing euery father would bring vp his children with carefull nourture, and euery yoong woman respect the honour of her virginitie.

But amongst all these blythe and merry [...]estes, a little by your leaue, if it be no farther then Fetterlane, oh take heed, thats too nye the Temple, what then, I will draw as neare the signe of the white Har [...] as I can, and breathing my selfe by the bottle Ale-house, Ile tell you a merry Iest, how a Conny-catcher was vsed.

A merry Tale taken not far from Fetter Lane end, of a new found Conny-catcher, that was Conny-catcht himselfe.

SO it fell out, that a Gentleman was sicke and purblinde, and went to a good honest mans house to soiourne, and taking vp his Cham­ber grew so sick, that the goodman of the house hired a woman to keep and attend day and night vpon the Gentleman, this poore woman ha­uing a good conscience, was carefull of his welfare and lookte to his dyet, which was so slender, that the man although sicke, was almost famisht, so that the woman would no longer staie, but bad his Hoste prouide him of some other to watch with him, sith it greeued her to see a man lye and starue for want of foode, especially being set on the score for meate and drinke in the space of a fortnight, foure ponndes. The goodman of the house at last, hearing how that poore woman did finde fault with his scoring, the Gentleman not only put her out of doores without wages, but would haue arrested her, for taking away his good name, and defaming and slaundring him, and with that calling one of his neighbours to him, sayd neighbour, whereas such a had to [...]ngued woman hath reported to my discredite, that the Gentleman that lyes sicke in my house wants meat, and yet ruunes very much on the score, I pray you iudge by his diet, whether hee bee famisht or no, first in the [Page] morning, he hath a Cawdell next his heart, halfe an houre after that, a quart of Sugar sops, halfe an houre after that a neck of mutton in broath, halfe an houre after thaat Chickens in sorrell sops, and an houre after that, a Ioynt of rostmeat for his dinner, now neighbour, hauing this prouision, you may iudge whether he be spoyld for lacke of meate or no, and to what great charges his dyet will arise, whereas in truth, the poore Gentleman would haue beene glad of the l [...]all of these, for he could get none at all, but the cousoning knaue, thought to verse vpon him, and one day seeing mony came not briefly to the Gen­tleman, tooke some of his apparrell, his cloake I gesse, and pawnde it for fortie shillings, whereas God wot, all he eate in that time was not wo [...]th a Crowne, well, the Gentleman seeing how the knaue went a­bout to Conny-catch him, and that he had taken his cloake, smoothe­red all for reuenge, and watcht opportunitie to do it, and on a time, see­ing the goodman out, borrowed a cloake far better then his owne, of the boy, saying that he would goe to a friend of his to fetch money for his maister & discharge the house, the [...]oy [...]ending it him, away walks the Gentleman though weake after this great diet, and neuer came at the Taylors-house to answere him cloake or mony. And thus was he Conny-catcht him­selfe, that thought to haue verst vp­on another.