_Wilful woman_
[No date; c. 1653.]
I was carried yesterday abroad to a dinner that was designed for
mirth, but it seems one ill-humoured person in the company is enough
to put all the rest out of tune, for I never saw people perform what
they intended worse, and could not forbear telling them so; but to
excuse themselves and silence my reproaches they all agreed to say
that I spoiled their jollity by wearing the most unseasonable looks
that could be put on for such an occasion. I told them I knew no
remedy but leaving me behind them; that my looks were suitable to
my fortune though not to a feast. Fie, I am got into my complaining
humour that tires myself as well as every body else, and which (as you
observe) helps not at all; would it would leave me and that I should
not always have occasion for it, but that's in nobody's power, and my
Lady Talmash, that says she can do whatever she will, cannot believe
whatsoever she pleases. 'Tis not unpleasant, methinks, to hear her
talk how at such a time she was sick, and the physicians told her she
would have the small-pox and showed her where they were coming out
upon her, but she bethought herself that it was not at all convenient
for her to have them at that time; some business she had that required
her going abroad, and so she resolved she would not be sick nor was
not. Twenty such stories as these she tells, and then falls into
discourses of the strength of reason and power of philosophy till she
confounds herself and all that hear her. You have no such ladies in
Ireland.... My poor Lady Vavasor is carried to the Tower, and her
situation could not excuse her, because she was acquainted by somebody
that there was a plot against the Protector, and did not discover it.
She has told now all that was told her, but vows she will never say
from whence she had it; we shall see whether her resolutions are as
unalterable as those of my Lady Talmash. I wonder how she behaved
herself when she was married; I never yet saw anybody that did not
look simply and out of countenance, nor ever knew a wedding well
designed but one, and that was of two persons who had time enough I
confess to contrive it, and nobody to please in it but themselves. He
came down into the country where she was upon a visit, and one morning
married her; as soon as they came out of the church, they took coach
and came for the town, dined at an Inn by the way, and at night came
into lodgings that were provided for them, where nobody knew them,
and where they passed for married people of seven years' standing. The
truth is I could not endure to be Mrs. Bride in a public wedding, to
be made the happiest person on earth; do not take it ill, for I would
endure it if I could, rather than fail, but in earnest I do not think
it were possible for me; you cannot apprehend the formalities of a
treaty more than I do, nor so much the success of it. Yet in earnest
your father will not find my brother Peyton wanting in civility
(though he is not a man of much compliment unless it be in his letters
to me), nor an unreasonable person in any thing so he will allow him,
out of his kindness to his wife, to set a higher value upon his
sister than she deserves. I know not how he may be prejudiced upon the
business, but he is not deaf to reason when it is civilly delivered,
and is as easily gained with compliance and good usage as any body
I know, but no other way; when he is roughly used he is like me ten
times the worse for it. I make it a case of conscience to discover my
faults to you as fast as I know them, that you may consider what you
have to do: my aunt told me no longer ago than yesterday, that I was
the most wilful woman that ever she knew, and had an obstinacy of
spirit nothing could overcome. Take heed, you see I give you fair
warning. I have missed a letter this Monday, what is the reason?
By the next I shall be gone into Kent, and my other journey is laid
aside, which I am not displeased at, because it would have broken our
intercourse very much. Here are some verses of Cowley's; pray tell me
how you like them. It is only a piece taken out of a new thing of
his. The whole is very long, and is a description of, or rather a
paraphrase upon, the friendships of David and Jonathan. 'Tis I think
the best I have seen of his, and I like the subject because it is that
I would be perfect in. Adieu!